Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Between Duty and Love (#390)
Author: WilwarinAndamar
Chapters: 8

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Archive: Tolkien
Category: Alternate Universe (AU)
Description: When Darkness falls over Greenwood, Thranduil is desparate to be rid of it. What happens when he finds out the price, and is forced to chose between losing his realm or his only son?
Published: 08 Nov 2003
Updated: 09 Feb 2004
Warnings: Angst
Type: Angst
Characters: Thranduil; Gandalf; Legolas


Chapter 1 - Mithrandir's Arrival

1050 Third Age -- "About this time a shadow falls on Greenwood, and men begin to call it Mirkwood." (Return of the King, Appendix B)

". . . fell beasts came hunting, and cruel and evil creatures laid there their snares . . . Mirkwood it was called, for the nightshade lay deep there, and few dared to pass through . . ." (Silmarillion, Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age)

Part One -- Mithrandir's Arrival

For Elven footsteps, they were loud. Heavy strides pounded into the stone floor as the border guard rushed towards the throne room.

He threw open the doors and nearly collapsed in front of the king of Greenwood.

"Gracious, dear boy, I could hear you a mile away."

"Your highness," the exhausted Elf gasped. "We have fallen into another trap. This one possibly the worst of all."

The king's eyes widened. "How many this time?"

The guard's head shook, trying to regain his thoughts. "Ten, at least. Many more are severely wounded. Two are not expected to live to see dinnu."

Stunned, Thranduil nodded. "Thank you, lad. You are dismissed. I have thinking to do."

The guard bowed, and slowly walked out of the room.

Thranduil slumped in his chair and massaged his temples. Ever since Greenwood the Great fell under darkness, more and more had died because of orc or spider attacks. The only thing that gave him strength was Legolas, his only child. When the Queen died, Legolas became his entire life. Nothing made him happier than seeing his son running through the forest laughing.

Another knock at the door snapped him back into reality. "Minno."

An elderly man, dressed in grey and bearing a staff, walked into the room. "Suilaid, Aran Thranduil Oropherion."

The king's mood improved. "Mithrandir? Mae govannen! What brings you to Greenwood?"

"'Mirkwood' would deem more appropriate, as it is called by Men these days. I was nearly attacked by giant spiders on my way here, on more than one occasion."

"And for that, I apologize," the Elven king replied earnestly. "Long have I been trying my hardest to prevent such attacks, but to no avail. I do not know what to do anymore. I have lost ten guards this morning, and many more are wounded. These past few months, the death toll has reached over one hundred. Even one in my realm is too many."

"I agree, and that is precisely why I am here."

Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief. "Hennaid veneg le, Mithrandir. I am willing to do anything to be rid of this evil."

The elderly man nodded. "Good. We shall start tomorrow morning. Until then, I believe that I am in need of a good meal and long rest."

"And that you shall have," Thranduil said, smiling. "Tolo, we have much to discuss."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

dinnu -- lenitited form of tinnu, "starry twilight, early night"
Minno -- "Enter"
Suilaid, Aran Thranduil Oropherion -- "Greetings, King Thranduil son of Oropher."
Mae govannen! -- "Well met!"
Hennaid veneg le -- "A thousand thanks to thee"
Tolo -- "Come"


Chapter 2 - NEW! The Unspeakable Answer

Beta'ed by HoVis

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part Two -- The Unspeakable Answer

Early the next morning, the king and the wizard were poring over the palace’s library; at least, the barely organized chaos that passed for one. Every book, parchment, and important document was kept in the small room normally used as storage. Mithrandir sat on the floor in the midst of the chaos, while Thranduil occupied the only desk in the room.

Anything remotely usable was read over at least three times. After poring over several large volumes, Mithrandir held up a piece of paper with a sketch drawn onto it. “What’s this? ‘Thranduil, age three’?”

Thranduil’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Quite talented for such a young one. Is that a rabbit?”

Thranduil nearly dived over the tabletop, upsetting a large stack of documents. He quickly snatched the paper and stuffed it into the pocket of his robes. “It was a tree.” He muttered awkwardly, his cheeks reddening.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Mithrandir’s lips twitched slightly.

The Elvenking shot him a look of annoyance. “Could we please get back to work?”

“Of course.” Mithrandir smiled, his eyes twinkling.

Several hours passed, and they still had found nothing. Mithrandir set down the book he had been reading. “If you don’t mind, mellon vell, an old man needs to stretch his legs and clear his mind.”

Without looking up from his parchment, Thranduil nodded and waved his hand, abiding him leave. After a few moments, he tossed the document aside. With a heavy sigh, he reached across the desk to the next one in the stack. “Elbereth, will this never end?” he muttered to himself.

After a quick glance, he threw it into the air. He gave up with the loose papers. They were getting him nowhere.

He surveyed the room, realizing he was literally almost knee-deep in texts, scrolls, and other miscellaneous documents. He shook his head in disbelief. Finding anything even close to what he was looking for could take weeks, months; time which Mirkwood could not afford. At random, he picked up a large tattered book.

Flipping through the pages, something caught his eye. He turned to the spot and nearly fell over backwards in excitement.

“Hirnin ha!” He exclaimed.

Mithrandir strode back into the room. “Na vedui! Dangweth!”

Thranduil was now immersed in the text. Hunched over the book, his eyes darted back and forth on the pages. Suddenly, he suddenly went deathly pale and his eyes widened in terror. Dropping the open book on the desk, he leapt from his seat and ran from the room.

Puzzled, Mithrandir walked to the desk and turned the book around, reading where Thranduil had left. He quickly scanned the last passage, and gasped in shock, just as Thranduil had done:

“ . . . Should Darkness come to Greenwood the Great,
Death will not be the land’s worst fate.
Unless the king wants to lose his home,
Must sacrifice the next male heir to the throne.
Upon the Sacrificial Rock he shall lie,
And by his own father’s hand he shall die . . .”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

mellon vell (dear friend)
Hirnin ha! (I found it!)
Na vedui! Dangweth! (At last! An Answer!)


Chapter 3 - NEW! Thranduil's Decision

Here is the extended edition of chapter 3. Special thanks goes to my beta HoVis.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part Three -- Thranduil’s Decision.

Mithrandir was searching for Thranduil throughout the palace. He had heard stories about Sacrificial Rock, none of them pleasing. It was no wonder the Elvenking had run from the room so abruptly. Worry began to set in as the hunt became increasingly longer. There was no telling what was running through the king’s mind, or what he was doing. He finally found Thranduil aggressively pacing in his bedchambers.

The instant the king saw him, he burst out angrily. “I will NOT sacrifice MY SON!”

“No one is asking you to, Thranduil,” the wizard said quietly. “I know how much Legolas means to you.”

“Of course no one is *asking* me -- I am being forced!” Thranduil was bright red, and livid. “How could I even consider such an option? My son or my kingdom? I would rather kill *myself* first!”

“Do not speak of such things, Thranduil, no matter how true your words!” Mithrandir chastised.

Thranduil quickly closed his mouth, realising the severity of what he had said. He sank into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands. “I am sorry, Mithrandir, but you cannot possibly fathom what I am going through. He is my SON, for Elbereth’s sake! I love Legolas with all of my heart. Greenwood has always been second to him, but I have worked FAR too long and hard to just let it crumble beneath my feet.”

“Thranduil, there must be some other way--”

“There IS no other way!” Thranduil sighed heavily, as if releasing his frustration, then spoke in a calmer demeanour. “If there was, I would do it in a heartbeat, or half of one. Sometimes I think I love him more so than I loved my wife.”

“There may yet be an alternative. The prophecy, so to speak, may not be wholly accurate--”

“And you do not think I have already thought of that? It was the first thing to come to my mind. I am stuck between the frying pan and the fire.”

“I know how you feel, Thranduil, but we must consider the possibilities.”

Thranduil bit his lip and shook his head. “It matters not. Either way, no matter what I choose, I will lose something very dear to me.”

“Thranduil,” Mithrandir replied in a tone that was filled with both concern and reassurance, “at the very least, give it some thought. If only for tonight, give yourself some time to think about what you are planning on doing.”

The Elvenking gave Mithrandir a look filled with pain and fear, before he walked, soundlessly, out of the room.

~*~

That night, Thranduil tossed and turned in his bed. He was plagued with nightmares of the fell creatures that had invaded Greenwood, but in the darkness of the night they became much worse. In his dreams, a great spider with long, dripping fangs lunged at him, but the image shifted into a ferocious werewolf with blood-red eyes, snarling and howling. The figures faded, and Thranduil found himself alone in the open forest, weeping and hunched over Legolas’ grave. Miraculously, Legolas rose from the earth, and embraced his father. Around them, Greenwood burned, bringing death and destruction to its people, until it was as black and evil as Mordor.

Thranduil shot up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. It took him a brief second to realize he was in his own bedroom, but that he had only woken from one nightmare to return to a far worse living one. After a few deep breaths, he lay back down again, but he could no longer return to the peacefulness of sleep. He realised that there was only one solution to be rid of the Darkness that had fallen over Greenwood, but it was one that he was loath to carry out.

~*~

The Elvenking’s hair was dishevelled and there were dark bags beneath his eyes when he stumbled into the kitchens the next morning, half asleep. Mithrandir was sitting at the table, his back to the doorway. “You are late.” He said, a hint of accusation in his tone. Thranduil did not answer. He walked around and sat across from the wizard. It was then that Mithrandir looked at him. “You look terrible.”

“I am in no mood for jests. I have made my choice.”

The pain in Thranduil’s features was easy enough for Mithrandir to read. He frowned. “You intend to do it then?”

“What other option do I have?” He sadly looked at the Istar, a tear making its way down his face. “Tomorrow morning, I am going to the Sacrificial Rock with Legolas. Unless you can prove there is some other way to keep Greenwood safe, I will do what I feel is necessary. If you do not mind, I have arrangements to make.” He walked out of the room, not bothering to wait for a reply. None was forthcoming. The Maia was already deep in thought.


Chapter 4 - A Father's Farewell

Part Four – A Father’s Farewell

Thranduil watched his sleeping son from the doorway. Nothing could stop the tears in his eyes from shedding. He did not even bother to wipe them away. The longer he watched him, the more Thranduil wanted to kill himself. It pained him to even lay eyes on his son, knowing it would be the last night he would see Legolas alive.

Carefully, he crept into his son’s room and sat on the edge of his bed. Legolas didn’t stir; his eyes were closed, deep in sleep.

He ran his fingers through Legolas’ silk-like golden hair.

Thranduil marveled at his son’s appearance; how Legolas mirrored both him and his wife so well. Of course, he always did so, but this time was different; it would be the last.

So young . . . so innocent and full of life . . .

Elbereth! Why should he be put through such torment? Why should a father be forced to kill his only child? He had known life was unfair and cruel, but this crossed the line of reason.

Thranduil’s mind wandered to the time when Legolas was just a toddler, and he had attempted to give him a bath. He had turned his back for a mere second, and Legolas was gone; running through the palace stark naked. It was quite a surprising and amusing site for the servants; the crowned prince, running throughout the hallways wearing nothing, soon followed by an angry king of Greenwood. It was a favorite story for several decades, told at every banquet held at the palace, behind the king’s back; but of course he knew. He always knew.

His lips curled into a smile at that memory, but became solemn again when he realized Legolas would become just that: nothing more than a memory.

His eyes fell to the bed sheets around his son’s waist. Carefully, he pulled them up to Legolas’ shoulders.

Leaning over his son, he whispered, “I am fighting a losing battle, and I cannot keep fighting it forever. I hope you will understand what I must do.” “I will miss you when tomorrow is over, lasgalen dithen. More than you can imagine.” He softly kissed his son’s forehead. “Take comfort in knowing yours will be swift and painless while mine will be slow and agonizing.”

He stood up, and slowly began walking out of the room. Halfway out the door, he stopped. He glanced over his shoulder one last time, then turned away. Already he could feel his heart breaking.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

lasgalen dithen -- little greenleaf


Chapter 5 - Sacrificial Rock

Part Five -- Sacrificial Rock

Almost trance-like, Thranduil packed for the journey to Sacrificial Rock. What would normally take two or three days’ travel was cut down a full day, provided he rode as fast as he was able. Even then, it was too long of a journey.

Anor had barely begun to shine over the horizon when Thranduil finished tying the supplies to his two fleetest horses.

Legolas peered over the side of his balcony. “Adar!” He jumped down and landed light as a feather onto the ground below. “Where are you going at this time of day?”

Thranduil avoided eye contact. “I’m headed to the opposite end of Greenwood, to improve the safety of the realm.”

Legolas smiled. “May I join you?”

Thranduil’s heart nearly stopped. His poor son was willing to go with him to Sacrificial Rock; except he did not know it. He tried to hide the shock in his voice. “Yes, you may come.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Adar, are you all right? You do not sound like yourself.”

“I just have something on my mind. It’s nothing.”

Legolas nodded and started to walk away.

In a split second, Thranduil jumped him from behind and pinned his arms to his side, covering his face with a cloth. Legolas struggled, but within seconds went limp in his father’s arms. The cloth had been soaked in a liquid that Men call “ether”.

Thranduil lifted his unconscious son over his horse’s back. “This is not what I wanted, Legolas. Believe me, I never wanted this to happen. I would rather this be my own fate, and not yours.”

He mounted. With a swift flick of the reigns, he began the long journey to Sacrificial Rock.

~*~

Sacrificial Rock was in a lower corner of Greenwood forest, south of East Bight. It had not been used in over a millennium, perhaps longer. Except on occasion when come across by a lost traveler or a curious guard, it remained hidden and secluded. No one knew its origin, but legend said was it was used for the ritual killing of animals and people.

All it consisted of was a large slab of solid rock, just the right size for a body. On opposite ends were two medium-sized trees, used for binding the victim’s arms and legs to prevent escape. Beside it was a small fire pit to provide light and heat during the night.

Their journey South was flawless. Not a spider or orc sighted. Thranduil considered them lucky.

The south region of Greenwood was exceptionally dark, and the Night only made matters worse. It was not long before he was forced to light a torch to see his way through the forest. Checking the map, he slowed down to a halt; they were near. He quickly dismounted and surveyed the area around him. There was no sign of life except for the two Elves.

Thranduil lifted his son over his shoulder and grabbed the pack. He left the two horses untethered, in case they were needed to make a quick escape. He continued on foot.

He found it within minutes. The small clearing was barely fifteen yards away from where he had left the horses.

He carefully laid his son on the large stone that was Sacrificial Rock. He turned and placed the torch in the fire pit covered with small branches. Soon, the fire was large enough to light the expanse.

As he looked upon the orange light reflecting off of Legolas’ soft face, he felt a pang in his heart. However, his mind was made; and there was no turning back at this point.

He tied ropes around Legolas’ wrists and ankles, and secured them to the trees.

The time had come. Legolas would be dead within a few minutes; his blood on his own father’s hands.

Thranduil desperately wanted to hold his son one last time, but it would not be right, as Legolas would not hold him back.

‘Perhaps,’ he thought, ‘I should have awaken him last night and . . . no, no. He would have known something was amiss. It is better this way . . . or is it? . . .’

He shook his head; it was too late for that now. He carefully pulled the long knife from his pack. Rubbing his thumb against the edge of the blade, he tested it for sharpness and found that it was too dull.

He almost began to sweat. For everything that had been going right, this was the one thing that was preventing him from finishing what he had to do.

With a heavy sigh, he sat upon a fallen tree trunk and began to sharpen the blade.

Unfortunately, within a few moments, Legolas slowly started to regain consciousness. “Adar?” he groaned. “Adar? What is happening?”

Thranduil did not respond. He bit his lip, trying to fight back his emotions. He kept his gaze fixed on the knife.

“Adar?” The voice was pitiful.

Thranduil could not postpone it any longer. He stood beside Legolas, the large blade in hand.

The prince’s eyes widened in fear. “Adar!?”

A tear fell from Thranduil’s face. “I am so sorry, ion,” he whispered, nearly choking on his own words. He raised the knife above his head, holding it with both hands. “Saes, goheno nin an man cerithan.”

“ADAR!” Legolas yelled one last time.

Thranduil closed his eyes, tightened his grip on the knife, and thrust it down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Anor -- The Sun
Adar! -- Father!
ion -- son
Saes, goheno nin an man cerithan -- Please, forgive me for what I am going to do
(Literally, "Please, forgive me for what I will do.")

Author's note: I have read The Hobbit and LOTR and the Sil and, yes, they mention the soporific effects of the river that runs through Mirkwood; but from what I understood, it had to be ingested for it to take effect . . . not inhaled.


Chapter 6 - Saved!

Part Six -- Saved!

“THRANDUIL! DARO!” Mithrandir shouted from a distance.

Startled, the King of Greenwood dropped the blade. It hit the ground with a soft ‘thud’.

He had barely missed his son. Another inch, and Legolas would have been impaled. The frightened child stared at his father in shock and hurt; his chest quickly rising and falling with heavy breathing.

Thranduil was overcome with grief as he looked at the sight before him. He collapsed to his knees, weeping, hiding his face behind his folded arms.

Mithrandir stood behind the Elvenking and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let him go, Thranduil.”

The king made no reply, but slowly, his hand reached for the fallen blade. Grasping it, he raised it to the cords to Legolas’ arms and slit them in half.

Legolas quickly snapped off the ropes binding his wrists together, and untied his legs. Once free, he took off running into the woods. Soon, the sound of a horse’s neigh cut through the night air. He had taken off with Nimlith, one of the horses.

Thranduil continued to sit in the dirt. He wanted to go back three days, before the discovery of the book; or better yet, before the Darkness fell over Greenwood.

Not a sound was made, except for a single cricket chirping. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Thranduil finally spoke.

“Kill me now, Mithrandir,” he said, barely audible. “I beg of you, end my torment and send me to the awaiting Halls of Mandos.”

“No, Thranduil,” the Maia replied, shaking his head. “I cannot do that, for reasons which you already know.”

“But what will I do? How could I do something like this to my own son?” the Elvenking asked. “Greenwood will collapse beneath me and be destroyed and Legolas thinks I’m no better than an orc. I doubt he will ever look upon me as a father again, much less a loving one.”

“I doubt any of them. Greenwood will not easily fall, and Legolas will forgive you in time.”

“Somehow, though,” Thranduil whispered, his brow wrinkled in uncertainty. “I do.”

~*~

Legolas was driving the poor horse as fast as he was able. He didn’t care where he was going – he just wanted to get away, to somewhere safe. Everything was a blur; he barely seemed to notice that dawn would be approaching within the hour.

Tears of betrayal ran down his face. His own father had tried to kill him!

//But it could not have been him . . . ú-adar nín . . . he loves me . . . but it *was* him . . . holding a blade above me . . . why would he do such a thing? . . . does he not love me anymore? . . . adar? . . . or Morgoth in disguise? . . .//

He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his tunic. His mother would have had a fit if she had seen . . .

//Nana . . . aníron le nant si . . . I need you now more than ever . . .//

Without warning, Nimlith suddenly fell to the ground due to exhaustion, and Legolas was violently thrown off of her, tumbling on the forest floor until he crashed against a tree.

His entire body was sore. With a groan, he rolled over onto his back. He turned his head, and saw the horse lying on the ground. Painfully, he slowly crawled over her and shook her mane.

“Nimlith, erio. Tolo, boe ammen gwanno.”

But the horse did not move or respond.

A loud shriek behind him caused him to jump. He spun around, and four pairs of red eyes starred back at him. It was a giant spider, hidden in the darkness.

He shook the horse again. “Hurry, Nimlith. We have to get out of here.”

Still, the horse did not move.

Legolas began to panic. “Nimlith?” He turned, and the spider stepped out from the shadows.

Its large, brown fangs dripped with venom, and all eight of its beady eyes were fixed on its next meal – the young elf. It growled, and Legolas heard it speak. “Fresh . . . meat . . .”

Terrified, Legolas backed into the trunk of a large tree. Looking for escape, he found none. He had unknowingly trapped himself.

The great spider seemed to laugh at its fortune. With a deep hiss, it jumped at Legolas. The prince screamed at the top of his lungs.

“LEGOLAS!”

Something large flew out of the brush and crashed into the spider, knocking it to the ground. It was Thranduil. When he stood upright, his sword was covered in black spider blood.

“Legolas,” he gasped, pointing his sword north, “take Malwaew and run!”

Without hesitation, Legolas ran to where his father had pointed. There, standing, was the second horse. Legolas mounted in a single leap, and rode back to the palace. Leaving the horse in the stables, he continued to run, not stopping until he had closed the door to his room and leaned against it.

He was safe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Daro! (Stop!)
Nimlith (White ash)
ú-adar nín (not my father)
adar (father)
Nana (Mom)
aníron le nant si (I wish you were here)
Nimlith, erio. Tolo, boe ammen gwanno. (Nimlith, get up. Come, we need to leave.)
(Literally, “Nimlith, arise. Come, it is needed to us to depart.”)
Malwaew (Golden wind)


Chapter 7 - Mistrust

Part Seven – Mistrust

Legolas was sitting on his balcony, curled up into a ball, huddled beneath a large blanket. In his hands was a small scrap of fabric that came from one of his mother’s dresses. He was still able to smell her scent. He could barely remember her, as he was very young when she was taken from him; but whenever he held that piece of cloth, the image of her was as clear as a diamond.

He had locked the door to his room from the inside and barricaded it with a large chair. The last time he remembered doing something similar was decades ago. He had accidentally broken a vase dating from the First Age. He had been attempting to fire an arrow using only his feet, but the bowstring had broken, sending the arrow into his father’s bedroom. Narrowly missing his father’s head, the arrow had struck the vase, shattering it beyond repair. Frightened, Legolas had locked himself inside his room and refused to open it to anyone. He was afraid that his father would be angry about the broken vase; but after Thranduil heard the youngster’s explanation, he had laughed, saying “Either greatly improve, or never attempt it again.”

Legolas could not explain the change in his father.

The silence was broken by a knock at the door, causing him to nearly leap out of his skin. “Legolas? May I speak with you?” It was his father. “Legolas? Saes, edro i ammon.”

“Leave me alone!” he cried out and curled himself even tighter.

“Legolas,” Thranduil begged. “Aníron pedi anich.”

“Baw! I hate you!”

“Please do not hate me, Legolas.” On the other side of the door, Thranduil was growing desperate. “I know you are angry with me. You have every right to be; I would not expect anything less. Please, I only want to talk.” There was only silence. Frustrated, Thranduil leaned his forehead against the door. “Sooner or later, you will have to leave your room. I am going to sit out here for however long it takes you to open the door and speak to me face to face.”

Legolas angrily chewed his bottom lip. He was not ready to confront his father yet, but the run-in with the spider still gnawed on the back of his mind. After all, his father did still love him . . . didn’t he? Or was this a trap to get him back to Sacrificial Rock?

Cautiously, he walked over to the door and cracked it open, just enough to see his father standing in front of it. “Bado ó.” Thranduil winced, a pained expression on his face. “I deserve as much. Please, may I come in? I swear I am unarmed.” He raised his hands in defense.

Legolas pensively looked him up and down. It was not like his father to openly admit being without weaponry, but he would never lie about it either. Deep down inside, Legolas desperately wanted to be able to trust him again. “All right,” he said finally.

Leaving the door open, Legolas walked back into room and stood, leaning against the wall. Slowly, Thranduil followed and sat on the edge of Legolas’ bed, much like he had two nights ago. “Perhaps I should explain . . . but where do I begin?”

Legolas’ eyes narrowed. “You could try to explain why you tried to kill me.”

“It was a choice I deeply regret, Legolas--”

“You did not answer my question,” the young elf interrupted harshly, his voice cold and uncaring.

Thranduil sighed heavily. “You know about the attacks by the Orcs and spiders, yes? The only way to put an end to them was to kill you. I did not want to, Legolas, I was forced.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Legolas asked, with a mix of anger and sarcasm. “Knowing the reason my own father tried to kill me was because he was forced?”

“I did not feel I had a choice. It was the most difficult thing I had ever had to do in my life.” Thranduil replied, his voice filled with remorse.

“I do not believe you.” Legolas turned to walk out of the door, but his father grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“What would *you* do then, Legolas?” Thranduil replied, turning the tables. “If you were given the choice between watching everything you had worked so hard for crumble before your eyes or giving up your only child, whom you love more than your own life, what would you do? I would have killed *myself* first, had I had been given the option.” His face was filled with sorrow and remorse.

Legolas was shocked. From early on he had been taught that, for Elves such as he, life was sacred and to take one’s own was unforgivable. And now, he did not know what to say. He sat down onto the bed, next to his father.

Thranduil continued, his voice calmer. “Our people look up to me – to us. They seek us out when there is a problem. They expect us to have all of the answers. But when the only answer means the loss of their lives or one of ours, it makes things more difficult for us and puts everything into a whole new perspective.”

“I had not thought about that,” Legolas mumbled, feeling ashamed of his previous behavior.

Thranduil placed the back of his hand to his son’s cheek and looked him in the eyes. “You are worth more to me than all of the jewels of Middle-Earth. If I could go back, I would. I should not have put you through that kind of torment. I am so sorry.”

Thranduil was nearly knocked over by Legolas throwing his arms around his neck.

“Gohenan le, adar. I am sorry too, I should have trusted you.”

Thranduil shook his head. “No. You have nothing to be sorry for, ion vell. It was all my fault.” He sighed and embraced his son tighter. “Elbereth, I thought I would never do this again.”

“Neither did I,” Legolas murmured through his father’s cloak. “I love you, adar.”

Thranduil smiled. “I love you, too, Legolas. I suppose you knew that already.”

“I did . . . thank you.” Suddenly, he broke away, remembering. “Nimlith--”

“--Is all right.” His father replied, smiling. “She took a rather nasty fall and was quite exhausted, but she will be fine. Once she was able to stand, I followed you close behind in case any other spiders showed themselves.”

Legolas beamed, his sky-blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Thranduil kissed his son’s forehead, then stood and left the room.

Once outside, Thranduil silently praised Elbereth. A miracle had happened – Legolas had forgiven him. But joy turned to dread when he realized the awful truth; Greenwood was still under Shadow and threatened to fall faster than Westernesse. Out of Legolas’ earshot, he let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t out of harm’s way yet. He went back to his own bedchambers and sat in a large chair while he waited for his world to come crashing down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saes, edro i ammon. (Please, open the door.)
Aníron pedi anich. (I want to speak to you.)
Baw! (No!)
Bado ó. (Go away.)
Gohenan le, adar. (I forgive you, father.)
ion vell (dear son)


Chapter 8 - Môr Dannatha

Part Eight -- Môr Dannatha

Thranduil was still sitting in his chair, half awake, when Mithrandir appeared inside his room.

“Thranduil, tolo. Boe pedim.”

The Elvenking shifted his weight, turning away from him. “There is nothing to discuss.”

“Thranduil,” Mithrandir repeated with a slightly harsher tone, “you are coming with me whether you want to or not.”

Thranduil opened his mouth to protest, but shut it, not wanting to angry a Wizard. With a look of confusion and annoyance, he stood up and walked out the door, closely followed by Mithrandir.

~*~

Both were silent as they walked through the palace hallways. Once outdoors, the Istar tried to ease the tension. “I am glad to see that Legolas has forgiven you.” Not getting an immediate response, he continued. “You have done quite well raising him alone.”

Thranduil nodded. “I would like to think so.” There was a slight pause. “If you had not arrived when you did, I cannot even begin to imagine what I might have done.”

“A wizard arrives precisely when he means to, Thranduil,” Mithrandir replied, smiling. “It was not by mere coincidence that I arrived when I did.”

The Elvenking was not amused. “Do you have a true reason why you bid me to come here?”

The grin quickly faded from the Istar’s face, and he turned serious. “I believe that, somehow, Sauron and his minions are still at work. I have reason to believe that one of them, possibly one of the Nazgul, has a stronghold here in your own realm. Until his power is destroyed, Greenwood will be engulfed in darkness. It could be years or decades before we discover where the stronghold is located, and just how strong his power really is.”

Thranduil’s jaw nearly hit the ground. It took him a few seconds to regain his ability to speak. “I . . . I do not understand. The prophecy--”

“--Was misleading. I went back to it after you began to pack. Had you killed Legolas, the Darkness over Greenwood would have lifted, but only temporarily.”

Thranduil let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. “Mithrandir, you do not know how grateful I am that you were here.”

“Actually, I do know.” The faintest smile graced the Wizard’s features.

“A father should never have to bury his son,” Thranduil replied, as if he hadn’t heard him. His eyes flung open in realization. “Decades? But what shall I do until then? I cannot sit idly by and watch my people turn into feasts for wolves.”

“The main problem, Thranduil, is that your border guards are trained to fight orcs, not giant spiders and wolves. They are poorly trained and badly equipped to face such foes. Instruct your guards to better prepare themselves in an event of another ambush. Also, the spiders’ venom is toxic to Elves, but there is an antidote. I made a batch for your healers and have given them instructions for how to make more. As long as it is given within the hour, the afflicted will survive.”

The Elvenking stared in disbelief, and then shook his head. “Such an obvious solution. You must think me as a very terrible king.”

“Not at all,” Mithrandir reassured him. “You simply were not aware of the circumstances. Besides,” he added, “you always have been known to take the more drastic route.”

Thranduil turned slightly pink. Fortunately for him, he was saved from any further uneasiness by the sight of Legolas running towards them -- or so he thought.

“Greetings, Adar,” said Legolas, smiling. “Thank you, Mithrandir. For everything.”

Mithrandir chuckled, ruffling the Elfling’s hair. “You are more than welcome, cunn neth.”

The Elvenking glanced up at the sky, noticing the sun was directly overhead. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “You have archery practice right now, do you not?”

Slightly embarrassed, Legolas looked down and kicked at a clump of grass. “Yes . . .”

“Go . . . now.”

“Yes, adar . . .” Legolas turned and slowly started walking away. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back. After a stern nod from his father, he lowered his head and continued towards his lesson.

As soon as he disappeared from view, Thranduil sighed. “I still have a lot of work to do with him.”

Mithrandir broadly grinned. “Oh, he is not so bad. Believe me, the two twin terrors of Elrond Peredhel are much worse, and I make it a point to avoid his daughter whenever possible.”

“I will take your word for it,” Thranduil replied, staring at the vacant area formally occupied by his son. “Still, I never would have forgiven my father had he tried to do the same to me.”

“That is true, but then again you are not Oropher, and Legolas is not you.”

The two were suddenly thrown back when a stray arrow from the archery range flew between them, barely missing them both. It struck the trunk of a tree just a few feet behind them.

“Sorry!” A voice that sounded like his son’s shouted from afar.

Thranduil groaned aloud, rolling his eyes. “You were saying . . .?” he asked, massaging his forehead with one hand.

Mithrandir placed his hand on the king’s shoulder. “It is all right, mellon vell, he will learn eventually. Remember?”

Thranduil opened his mouth to ask, but laughed when he saw the twinkle in Mithrandir’s eye. “I do, and I suppose you want me to help him.”

“All of Greenwood will thank you,” he replied, patting him on the back.

“As always, I will do my best.”

“At least you have all of the time in the world now.” Mithrandir brought two fingers to his mouth and a shrill whistle pierced the air. Within seconds a brown stallion appeared from the thicket.

“You are leaving?” Thranduil asked, somewhat surprised. “Must you go so soon?”

“I am needed elsewhere.” He turned to see the Elvenking’s brow furrowed with worry. Mithrandir faintly smiled. “But do not fret. I know you. You will be fine without me. Until next time, Thranduil.” He mounted and with a flick of the reigns, he rode away, disappearing into the forest.

“Until next time . . . mellon vell,” Thranduil muttered to himself. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, glancing in Legolas’ direction, and a devilish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Legolas, if you insist on shooting with your feet, you have to work on your control of the arrow.” He allowed the smile to spread across his entire face. “Here, let me show you . . .”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Môr Dannatha (Darkness Will Fall)
Thranduil, tolo. Boe pedim. (Thranduil, come. We need to talk.)(Lit. “Thranduil, come. It is necessary we speak.”)
adar (father)
cunn neth (young prince)
mellon vell (dear friend)

THE END
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