Disclaimer: See default chapter

Chapter 14

* It may sound absurd *

It may sound absurd...but don't be naive
Even Heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed...but won't you concede
Even Heroes have the right to dream
It's not easy to be me
(Superman sung by Five for Fighting)

*~* Flashback*~*

"Why is your heart so cold to him Thranduil?" Lalaith asked, her arms coming to rest on his chest. "Why haven't you come to see him? He asks for you daily."

Thranduil sighed. "One day he will die, 'Laith, and there will be nothing you or I can do."

"He is not dead yet Thranduil, yet you still hold back your love." There was a hint of accusation in the fair voice.

Thranduil drew back, drawing his defenses around him tightly. "I lost a child in my arms Lalaith, I do not want to loose another." Then turned and strode from the room.

Lalaith stood, her arms at her side, looking sadly at the back of her husband. "He will not die Thranduil." She whispered to the empty room. "He will live, but he needs your love first."

Thranduil strode furious to the throne room. How dare she even think about him giving his love to someone who would die! Had he not already suffered enough heartache?

As he turned the corner he nearly ran over a small elfling walking very slowly in the corridor.

Despite his best efforts to stop, the little elfling fell backwards, landing on his backside. But instead of wailing out his pain, he just sat there and looked quizzically up at him, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

"Are you alright little one?" Thranduil bent down and helped the serious elfling up.

"Yes thank you." The elfling replied courteously, then paused and staring back into Thranduil face, asked a question that startled him.

"Can you tell me where King Thranduil is?"

"And why are you looking for him?" Thranduil asked curiously, there was a moment when the thought that this could be his son flitted through his mind. But it was impossible. This serious elfling couldn't be from him! But the elfling's next words erased his thoughts.

"He's my ada."

Thranduil took a step backward. This was his child? This thin, pale, solemn little being? Impossible!

"Legolas!"

Both turned at the frantic call, but it was Thranduil who was shocked at seeing his oldest daughter run up and swept the little elfling into her arms.

"Where have you been? Naneth is nearly frantic searching for you! Why did you leave the nursery? You were supposed to stay there. Why did you leave?" Loriel alternated between shaking him and hugging him close.

The elfling's little face screwed up as Loriel hugged him close to her. "Go 'way, "Reil." He pushed her chest as hard as he could. "I don't want to go back to the nursery."

"You don't really have much choice in the matter, Legolas." Loriel countered, setting him down then grabbing his hand. "You know that you aren't supposed to leave the nursery without supervision!"

"I didn't run 'Riel." The adorable little frown came back into place.

And with a shock, Thranduil realized he was looking at a miniature of himself! His shock furthered as the elfling, without really realizing what he was doing, crossed his arms, set his feet apart and raised one eyebrow.

It was a stance that everyone knew. Everyone who had come into contact with Thranduil that is.

Loriel placed her hands on her hips and glared right back. "I don't care if you ran or not, you ran away from the nursery."

Immediately the shoulders drooped, and the arms fell to his sides. "I just wanted to see my ada, 'Riel." He said pitifully. "Nana says that I might meet grandfather some night, but I wanted to meet ada first."

It was almost as if someone had taken an axe to his chest and caved it in with one swift, cruel blow. "Loriel?" Thranduil found that his voice wasn't quite steady.

Loriel gave a tentative smile. "Ada. I didn't know you were here."

Wordlessly Thranduil gestured toward the little, blonde hair, blue-gray eyed little elfling.

Loriel bent down next to Legolas' side almost protectively. "This is Legolas, Adar." She switched to western. "This is the child that you refused to see." Her voice had taken a slight edge.

Legolas looked up, confused at the sudden switch in languages. "'Riel?" He asked hesitantly. He reached up and placed his hand within hers. The mere sight tearing a void within Thranduil.

"Legolas." Loriel caught his attention. "This is your ada."

Blue-gray eyes stared at Thranduil, piercing into his very soul.

"Are you?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil dropped to his knees in front of Legolas, to better see the features so like his own yet so much like Lalaith's as well. The eyes were definitely his, as was the nose and the part in the hair. But the lips and delicacy surrounding the little elfling was all Lalaith.

"Yes." Thranduil whispered, his own gaze searching Legolas'.

Legolas head tilted to the side. "Do you hate me?" His voice was soft.

Unable to stop himself, Thranduil reached out and clasped the son that he had ignored since the day he was conceived, into his arms. "No." Thranduil choked out. Tears were rapidly welling into his eyes. The last time had had held such a small body was long before Legolas had been conceived.

Pen-neth, they called him still. A beautiful child who took his first and last breath in his Ada's arms. His heart still ached when he though about it. The tiny, frail child had torn a hole into Thranduil's heart, a hole that wasn't very easily repaired. And still hadn't repaired eleven years to the day.

But yet Thranduil felt a faint stirring within his heart. A longing to know this little one in his arms even if he was going to die.

To Thranduil's complete and utter surprise, the thin little arms, instead of pushing him away, wrapped around Thranduil's neck and pulled him even closer. "I love you." The words were barely a whisper.

Thranduil froze. He looked up at Loriel who also had a shocked expression upon her face.

Thranduil pulled back slowly. "You what?" He whispered.

Legolas looked down for a moment, and then looked straight into Thranduil's eyes. The ones so much like his own. "I love you ada." A spark of mischief sparkled in his eyes. He stretched his arms as far as he could. "I love you this much."

Thranduil bit back a smile. He knew this game; he had played it with all of his children. He stretched his arms as far as they could go. "Well, I love you this much."

Legolas' eyes widened in delight. He stood upon his tiptoes and stretched his arms as high as they could go. "I love you this much." He giggled.

Thranduil stood and did the exact same thing as his son. "Well I love you this much."

Legolas' delight grew even more. "I love you to the top of the palace." He challenged.

"Well I love you to the top of the trees." Thranduil shot back.

"I love you to the tallest mountain." Legolas stated proudly.

"I love you to the sun." Thranduil replied.

"I love you to the highest star." Legolas retorted.

Thranduil gathered Legolas into his arms. "I love you ten times that much."

Legolas pulled back. "Really?"

And to Thranduil's surprise. He found that he did.

*~*End Flashback*~*

Thranduil smiled as the memory ended and reality began. Crooning a soft lullaby he watched his son drift from unconsciousness to sleep.

From that day on, Legolas had become a huge part in his life. Thranduil often stole the child away to gaze at the stars at night, or to go tree climbing, or they would often cuddle in front of the huge fireplace and Thranduil would tell stories of many years past. It was in those years that Thranduil had borne in Legolas a love for reading and story telling.

Thranduil smiled gently at his son, then quietly rose and exited the tent. He still had questions that needed answering.

*~*

"Why aren't we going along the Anduin, Thalion?" Telos' voice was low enough that the rangers around them couldn't hear, the elves from Lothlorien were too far back to hear and the Rivendell elves were too far ahead.

Thalion met Telos' questioning gaze head on. "I have already lost many warriors under my command." His voice was a mere whisper. "I do not want to put the warriors sent with us in any danger, and besides. The Lothlorien elves would continue to Rivendell. They were not sent for our protection, but the protection of Lord Elrond."

Telos snorted lightly. "The Rivendell elves couldn't guard a fly."

"I will hear none of that Telos." Thalion's voice brooked no argument. It was no longer a voice of a friend but that of a prince, whose command was to be followed no matter how the warrior felt.

Telos inclined his head slightly to show that he would obey.

They rode in silence for several moments before Telos broke the silence. "Are you really going to let that Dunedain travel with us to Mirkwood?"

Thalion's eyes flashed at the hinted insult. "Yes." He replied simply. "I have a feeling that Legolas will need him."

Telos looked slightly startled at Thalion's admission. "But he is a mortal!"

Thalion merely looked at him. "That mortal has helped Legolas in many more ways than I could ever help him." He stated with a quiet fierceness. "He is coming and I will have no argument."

Telos' shoulder's stiffened. "As you wish my prince." He stated stiffly. Then before Thalion could say anymore Telos lightly touched his heels to his horse's sides and quickly rode ahead.

Thalion closed his eyes and sighed. Not wanting to deal with anything anymore. He was tired. More tired that he would have liked to admit.

"Prince Thalion?" The ranger who had spoken earlier called Liam spoke up quietly. "Are you well?"

Thalion forced his eyes open and looked at the young ranger. "As well as can be expected." He smiled wanly. The world was spinning around in circles it seemed, except for Liam's face. What was a matter with him? It was snowing still, but for some reason Thalion felt warm. Too warm for his own comfort. Reaching up to unclasp his cloak his hand encountered something wet and warm on his hand.

Looking down he realized it was blood. Not just blood. It was black in color. He lifted his hand up curiously.

He very faintly heard several gasps of surprise from around him, but he was too absorbed in the blood on his hand, and the growing black stain on his front. He rubbed his fingers together feeling the texture, as it grew hard between his fingers. Blood was a strange thing, he mused. It gave life as well as took it.

Long slender, cool fingers grasped his, moved past to touch the tunic and then ripped it open. The cool air was a welcome relief to his burning skin. He looked down at his chest. There was a long gash that was bleeding black blood. Thalion knotted his brow in confusion. Last time he knew elves bled red blood. He reached down and touched the long gash.

He very vaguely heard someone saying something about poisoning and then someone cursing, it sounded a lot like Telos. He lifted his head up and looked straight into Elrond's worried eyes. Thalion smiled trying to relieve the worry so evident in all the eyes around him, human and elf alike. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and slipped out of his saddle.

*~*~*

"Dearest Lothgil." No. Thorinell shook his head, too sentimental.

"My dear Lothgil." He shook his head again, too artificial.

"Dear Lothgil.." Thorinell bit his lip then crumpled the paper up. He wasn't using his best handwriting skills.

"Dear Lothgil.

        I write to you begging you forgiveness. I wrote to you earlier trying to dissuade you of my love for you. But I wrote because I am not worthy of you. You are like a dream to me. A dream that fades each morning when I wake.

        I am a simple warrior. You are a princess. I have not the means to take care of you the way you live now. My life is one of hardship and heartache. There are many times when the patrols are too late to help us. I have seen many of my fellow elves die in front of my eyes. I do not lie when I tell you that my settlement is leaving for the Valinor soon. We have suffered too much heartache and grief.

        You might not know, but I am the leader of this settlement. My father died passing the privilege on to me. I have led the settlement for over a hundred years now and can't abandon them now. Not when their need is so great. I do not think that your father would think highly of me if I abandoned my settlement now. And I cannot marry you then leave for the Valinor. Your Adar needs you almost as much as I dare to want.

        The very moment I saw you, I knew that you were meant for me. The Valar handcrafted you for me. Your hands fit mine perfectly. You say your heart is mine. My heart is yours. But the reality of life is too harsh. I cannot rip you away from your family Lothgil. No matter how much I love you. I love you heart and soul. I have talked to my mother on this subject, seeking her advice. I beg you to go to someone you hold dear to your heart. Your Adar, your brother or sister-in-law. Anyone.

        I beg you not to make a rash decision. I can wait for you. I will wait for you. I have loved you for a few years, but your Adar had loved you for thousands. I would rather die than hurt your Adar by taking his last daughter. I write a letter to him as well. If you so choose my love, please give the letter to your Adar. Please do not read it. It is a matter of utmost importance. Once again, I beg you to go to someone and tell them about us, and ask their advice.

        I remain,
        Most sincerely,
        Thorinell

With a sigh, Thorinell leaned back. Studied the letter in front of him, then with another sigh, crumpled it up and threw it against the wall.

"Thorinell!" A call from the door quickly brought him to his feet.

"What!"

"Orcs have been spotted!"

Leaving the crumpled paper all over the floor, Thorinell quickly grabbed his bow, quiver and knives and hurried out the door, leaving his mother to watch clasping her hands together in worry.

After the two elves had disappeared, Morwen sighed, and then turned back inside to finish cleaning. Passing Thorinell's room she noticed the wads of paper all over the floor and shaking her head she began to gather them up. Curiously she began unfolding them and reading the bits and pieces of a letter Thorinell was trying to write. There was a tenderness in the letter that surprised Morwen. As she read each and every scrap of crumpled paper she finally reached the only finished letter.

There was poignancy and a straightforward honesty that touched Morwen, and making a sudden, unexpected decision, Morwen quickly straightened the paper, folded it properly, sealed it then wrote Lothgil's name on it and quickly called for a messenger.

As she sat down, she prayed that her rashness wouldn't come back to haunt her.

*~*~*

Legolas stirred slightly in his sleep. His face drawn up in pain from his wounds, and perhaps a wound from the heart. Thranduil sighed, he had cleaned himself up as best as he could, and making sure that no blood was on his tunic, hands or face.

There had been one prisoner. He had stated that his name was Siovan. He had been the only one who had not been killed when the elves had come into the camp. He had nearly been decapitated, but the eagerness in his gaze awaiting the blow, had stopped the warrior elf from killing him. The human had made not a single move to defend himself. It was if he was trying to get himself killed.

Thranduil shook his head in confusion. The human had asked that in exchange for information, that the elves would kill him with a single blow. But when asked why he wanted death, he refused to answer.

A low moan pulled the king back from his thoughts. Focusing his attention upon his youngest child, he smoothed away the frown and placed a gentle kiss upon the forehead. Legolas' hair was growing back already, though it was still short, he no longer looked like a slave would. A poorly treated slave.

Thranduil sighed as he closed his eyes and rested his head upon Legolas' chest. He could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and not for the first time wondered at Legolas' resilience. His strength. He had been through so much, yet still remained strong.

The tent flap opened and Thranduil turned around to face his other son. His oldest son.

"Still not awake?" Lomion asked softly.

Thranduil shook his head. "Do you know what that animal did to him?" He whispered.

Lomion regarded his father with curious eyes, knowing it had to have been something brutal for his Adar to tell him. "No."

"That animal kissed him." Thranduil's throat swelled. "And he threaten to do more." He shook his head. "He threatened Legolas with rape." He said shortly.

"What?" Lomion hissed, letting himself fall onto a nearby stool. In all of his worst nightmares, he had never even thought of something so horrendous.

Thranduil nodded, tiredly. "That animal is dead, but how do you heal wounds dealt upon the heart?" He whispered. "His physical wounds will heal, but what about his emotions? His mentality?" He shook his head.

Legolas moved again, restlessly in his forced slumber. His hand was unconsciously groping for something on the bed sheet. Instinctively Thranduil gently clasp the hand in his, and immediately Legolas stilled, his features relaxing and a very faint smile appeared on his lips for an instant before it left.

Thranduil watched a smile upon his face as Legolas slowly woke up, his eyelids fluttering as he regained consciousness. "Ada?" The usually fair voice was rough.

"Shh." Thranduil soothed. "Lomion, go get Galion, tell him that Legolas is awake." He ordered lightly.

Lomion had stood and walked over to Legolas' side, peering over his Adar's shoulder, he smiled at his youngest sibling. "Take it easy, 'Las." He smiled, and then quickly left to find the healer.

"Ada?" Legolas griped his hand tighter. "It hurts." He whimpered. "My leg hurts." He closed his eyes tightly, squeezing a tear from the pain out.

Instinctively Thranduil gently lifted Legolas up and cradled him to his chest. "Shhh." He soothed. "Galion will be here soon."

"I'm sorry ada." Legolas whispered. "I'm sorry I ever got you into this mess. I'm sorry for worrying you. I'm sorry for being such a bother." Tears were pouring down his face now, partly due the pain and partly due to Legolas' own grief. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Fighting back his own tears Thranduil was loathed to say anything as he calmed his son. "Legolas." He whispered after his son's tears had slowed. "Do you remember Tillio?"

Legolas looked up, slightly startled at the mention of the small stuffed rabbit that his mother had made him, several hundred years ago. "Yes." He replied cautiously.

"Your mother made him so whenever you were scared he would 'protect' you. Remember?" Thranduil smiled at the fond memory.

Legolas smiled. "I used to take him everywhere with me." He reminisced, his mind far away from the pain of his leg and back.

Thranduil laughed softly, the sound resonating in his chest. "Whatever happened to him?"

"I gave him to Adoril." Legolas' voice grew softer. "Since he was an only child, he didn't have a big brother or sister to climb into bed with."

Thranduil smiled sadly. "Adoril always adored you." He said softly. "He always looked up to you."

"Now I shall always look up to him." Legolas' voice turned bitter. "Why did he do it ada?"

Thranduil sighed. "He did it because he was a warrior. He did it because it was his sworn duty. He did it for many, many reasons, but I think he mainly did it for you." He rubbed Legolas' arm consolingly. "You would have done the same had the roles been reversed. It was Adoril's greatest gift to you. His life."

Legolas bowed his head. "My best friend or my ada." He whispered. "I could not have made a choice, ada." He swallowed.

Thranduil smiled. "So Adoril made it for you. He always did like making decisions for you. Even though you were the older of the two."

Legolas smiled through his tears. "He always managed to make me feel younger than him."

"Don't remember the day that he died, Legolas." Thranduil parted words of wisdom well learned from many years past. "Remember the years he lived. Remember the laughter and not the tears. Remember the joys and not the sorrows. Remember Adoril for who he was, not for who he is now."

"There's a hole in the world now. A center like no other, of memory and hope, knowledge and affection which once inhabited this earth is gone. Only a gap remains. A perspective in this world, unique in this world, which once moved about in this world has been rubbed out. There's nobody who saw just what he saw, knows what he knew, loves what he loved. Questions I have can never now get answers. The world is emptier."

                                      Lament for a son
                                                By
                                        John Halstead