The History of Legolas - The Last Green Leaf

Author’s Note: First off, The Lord of the Rings and all associated characters belong to Tolkien and his estate. I am not making any profit off of this story, save the enjoyment I had making it.
This is, obviously, a sequel to The History of Legolas, parts one and two. It comes highly recommended that you read those first, otherwise you might suffer from a lot of confusion.
Note upon edit: I apologize for the age confusion with Legolas. I was aware that elves were fully-grown at the age of fifty, but somehow in my brain, I added an extra zero and ended up thinking it was five-hundred (I am dyslexic. And proud! ). It has been changed.



“Legolas!”

The voice was sharp in the young elfling’s ears. He knew he was in trouble. The blond-haired, blue-eyed elf sighed and put the gold leaf necklace that he had been looking at back under his tunic before giving away his position.

“I am here, Arthion.” Legolas said, waving to his elder brother from the tree in which he sat. His brother looked up and rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Ada is not pleased with you for running off without telling him where you were going.” Arthion scolded as his little brother scurried down the tree.

“He was busy! And I did not really know where I wanted to go anyway.” Legolas said. Arthion took his hand forcefully and led him back to the great doors of their father’s halls.

“That’s even worse, Legolas! If you did not know where you were going to go, how were we supposed to find you?” Arthion asked annoyedly.

“I hate being in the caves! I love the trees!” The young elfling protested. “Ada does not make you tell him where you’re going! Why must I?”

Arthion sighed as the two stopped at the doors of the Halls. “It is different for me. I am older.” He said.

“It’s not just that! Hérion gets to go wherever he wants too.” Legolas pointed out.

“Do not question things that you could never understand.” Arthion said as the doors opened. Legolas let out a frustrated sort of growl and glared angrily at his oldest brother as they walked into their father’s halls.

Legolas did not like the darkness of their underground home, especially since he was made to spend so much time in it. His father was very strict with the things he could and could not do, and had ever rarely let him out on his own. The youngest of Thranduil’s sons wanted nothing more than to explore the forest about him and listen to the trees. He loved the trees, and if he were allowed to, he’d spend all day outdoors listening to what they had to tell him.

As Arthion and Legolas passed an elleth who was pulling her elfling along to their home, the youngest son of the Elvenking dared to ask the question that he had been asking since he was old enough to realize that there was something missing in his family.

“Why do other elflings have a naneth and we do not?” he questioned timidly. Arthion immediately appeared uncomfortable. He averted his eyes from Legolas and loosened the grip on his hand.

“You will learn when you are older.” He answered quietly.

“You said that when I asked you on my tenth begetting day! I’m now twenty!” Legolas complained. “When will I be old enough?”

“When Ada thinks you are, he will tell you.” Arthion said. Legolas growled angrily and marched alongside his brother, too frustrated to talk anymore.

Arthion led his littlest brother to their father’s study. Legolas was suddenly frightened. He knew he was in a bit of trouble for wandering off without permission. Just as Arthion was going to knock on the wooden door, Legolas stopped him.

“Arthion, Ada isn’t going to yell, is he? I do not like it when he yells.” The youngest said, sounding ashamed. Arthion chuckled and ruffled his brother’s hair, mussing it slightly.

“I am only sure of one thing,” the eldest said, “you are in for a scolding.”

Legolas made a whining noise, his brothers words had neither confirmed nor disproved his fears and he swallowed hard as Arthion knocked on their father’s study’s door.

“Enter.” A firm voice said.

Arthion pushed the door open and gave Legolas a gentle nudge inside. The elfling stumbled forward ahead of his brother. Thranduil, who had been sitting at his desk, looked up and dropped the papers he had been reading, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Thank you for finding him, Arthion.” Thranduil said, standing up. Arthion nodded, but said nothing. He did not fully approve of his father’s obvious over-protection of Legolas, but he was always afraid to discuss it. Arthion knew why his father sheltered his youngest, and he knew that if the subject were ever brought up, it would be painful for everyone involved.

“You may leave us now, I have some things to discuss with Legolas.” Their father said, looking intently at his youngest son. Arthion nodded again and patted his little brother on the shoulder before leaving.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Arthion, Thranduil came out from behind his desk and stood in front of his son, his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed on the little blond head that was looking at the ground.

“Where did you go?” Thranduil asked.

“Outside.” Legolas answered guiltily.

“Have I not told you that you are to ask for permission to go out of doors, and that you must be accompanied by an adult?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you not obey me?”

“Because,” Legolas paused, wondering if he should tell the truth or if he should make something up, “I wanted to go outside.” He finally said.

“Why could you have not waited for my permission, and for someone to take you outside?”

“Because I wanted to go alone!” Legolas said, suddenly raising his voice.

“Legolas, the outside is no place for an elfling - ”

“All of the other elflings my age get to go outdoors by themselves!” Legolas interjected.

“The other elflings have the proper training with a bow.” Thranduil replied.

“Because the other elfling’s parents let them learn how to use one!” his son retorted.

“You are not ‘other’ elflings, Legolas.” Thranduil said sternly, working himself out of the hole he had dug himself into. Legolas looked up at his father with an angry glare.

“It’s not fair!” He protested.

Thranduil got down on his knees to meet his youngest son at eye level and put his hands on Legolas’ shoulders. The elfling’s body stiffened at his touch, his anger at his father was apparent.

“One day you will understand.” Thranduil said.

Legolas looked even more upset at his father’s words. “When will I be old enough, Ada? I want to understand everything now!”

Thranduil laughed and patted his son’s shoulder. “Not even the oldest and wisest elves understand everything, Legolas.”

“When will I be old enough to know why…” Legolas stopped mid-sentence and covered his mouth; suddenly remembering that the question he was about to ask was a dangerous one.

“Know what, little one?” Thranduil asked. Legolas shook his head, his hands still covering his mouth.

Just in the nick of time for Legolas, the door to his father’s study opened and Nestadriel walked in. The healer, who had been Legolas’ caretaker since he had been born, looked startled.

“I apologize, I can come back later.” She said. Thranduil was about to nod, but his youngest son took this opportunity to duck out of the door and run away from the curiosity that almost got away with him. Thranduil sighed and shook his head as he laughed to himself a little.

Legolas had run only partway down the hall when he stopped dead in his tracks and thought for a moment. Why was he running? His father had said that he wanted to know what his question was. And Legolas did have a right to know about his mother, did he not?

The little elfling, having made up his mind, turned back around and ran back to his father’s study. He was about to burst through the door until he noticed it was still open a little, and he could hear Nestadriel and his father speaking. Being the curious little elfling that he was, Legolas stopped and eavesdropped on what his father and caretaker were discussing.

“I met Arthion in the hallway, my lord. He said that Legolas asked about his mother. Again.” The healer said, sounding slightly more than annoyed. Thranduil looked at her pensively, not saying anything.

“Have you not told him?” she asked.

Thranduil sighed heavily before answering. “I have not.” He said.

“The child deserves to know about his mother! He is twenty years old!” Nestadriel said, pointing to the door. Legolas, afraid that he would be spotted, moved to the side of the opening to conceal himself.

“He is not ready for that kind of information, Nestadriel. He is still too young to understand.” Thranduil said.

“Legolas is a bright young boy, he will figure it out soon enough if you do not tell him.” Nestadriel warned.

“He will not be able to figure it out if no one gives him clues.” The king said sternly, giving a warning of his own. Legolas peeked into the door again. His father had a very angry look on his face and had his hands balled into fists.

“Even without clues from you or I or your sons, he is old enough to understand that those of the Eldar do not die unless mortally wounded, and he knows that Wood-Elves do not sail West. And he knows that he did not simply spring out of a hole! He will put two and two together before long, my lord.”

“I will not have my son thinking it his responsibility for his mother’s death!” Thranduil shouted angrily.

Legolas, in shock and despair, felt his muscles loose their tenseness for a moment and he fell forward, pushing the door open all the way. He caught his balance as Nestadriel and Thranduil turned and saw him standing there. Thranduil’s heart sunk into his chest as he realized that Legolas had heard his words, and there was no way to take them back.

“Legolas,” he said softly as he began to walk towards his son, his hand outstretched. Legolas, out of fright and anguish suddenly turned and ran. He did not want his father to see the tears that were threatening to spill over his cheeks. He did not want to face his father.

Thranduil tried to follow after him, but Legolas was a fast runner and was already rounding the corner as the king stepped out of his study and called “Legolas!” The Elvenking sighed heavily as he watched his son disappear around the corner to hide himself somewhere in the network of caves.

Legolas ran as fast as he could, not paying particular attention to where he was going. He ran into a few elves along the way, but did not stop to apologize for fear they would see his tears. All the while he was running he could hear three words echoing in his mind:

“I killed her.”

Slowly, Legolas began to think that the reason his father had never let him do anything fun was because Thranduil hated him for causing the death of his wife. Now he understood why Nestadriel and his brother’s always seemed upset with Legolas mentioned his mother; because he had killed her. The tears that had been falling from his eyes began to fall with more frequency and it was hard for Legolas to continue running for despair he felt.

When Legolas stopped, he was in front of the doors of the Great Hall, where his father’s throne was. There were two large statues built into niches in the wall on either side of the doors. One was an elleth, and one was an ellon. The ellon wore a crown of vines and looked very kingly. The statue often reminded Legolas of his father, though he knew it was not Thranduil. The elleth was a very graceful character that had long and flowing hair and a beautiful face. The little elfling often mused that if he ever had a mother, she must have looked like that.

Legolas suddenly remembered his father’s words and more tears gushed from his eyes. Feeling guilty and remorseful, the little elfling climbed behind the stone elleth and hid in the shadows, crying.

~

Thranduil had searched high and low for his son. After a half hour had passed, he sent some of the guard into the forest to search, thinking that perhaps Legolas had fled to the shelter of the trees as his mother had often done. Almwen and their son had like minds – they loved the trees and felt safer in a grove of growing things than in a guarded fortress.

Alas, the guards had returned empty-handed and Thranduil then employed his elder sons to search the halls and any place in them where Legolas might be. Nestadriel had also gone off searching with a defiant “I told you so” . So far, they had not found the youngest of the Elvenking’s children.

It had been nearly an hour when Thranduil finally entered the foyer to the Great Hall. The king was on the verge of giving up when he heard what sounded like a child crying. Thranduil looked around, not seeing any other elves except for the stone statues that were created in the likeness of Oropher and Almwen. The king followed his ears until he came upon the space between the base of Almwen’s statue and the wall. He looked into the shadows there and saw his son, curled up in a ball in the corner, sobbing. The king smiled, happy to have found his son, and finding it slightly ironic that he was hiding his mother’s effigy.

“Legolas, here you are.” Thranduil breathed in relief.

Legolas’ head whipped up and his eyes stared straight into his father’s. His little bottom lip quivered as he realized his hiding spot had been revealed and he began to wail loudly. Thranduil instinctively reached into the corner and pulled his son out into the light, then sat on the ground and cradled the elfling in his arms as Legolas cried into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Ada!” He cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Legolas, my son, you have naught to be sorry for!” Thranduil said, putting his hand on the back of the elfling’s head and stroking his blond hair.

“Yes I do! I killed Naneth!” Legolas sputtered, still crying into his father’s shoulder.

“An Orc’s arrow killed your mother, Legolas.” Thranduil sighed. Confused, Legolas sniffled and looked up into his father’s face.

“But you said - ”

“I worried that if I told you what happened you would think it was your fault. I should have told you sooner – when you first asked. I could have saved you the heartache I caused you today. It is I who should apologize.” Thranduil explained.

“It’s not my fault?” Legolas asked innocently. Thranduil smiled warmly and hugged his son close.

“No, my little green leaf, it is not.” He said. Thranduil felt Legolas’ tense muscles relax, though he only began to cry again. The king’s brow furrowed and he looked down at his son.

“Legolas, what is wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t know!” Legolas sobbed. The little elfling did not understand why he was crying. He only knew that he felt like it. Perhaps he was happy that he had been acqutted of his mother's death, or sad that she had died. Either way, he still sobbed away in his father's arms.

Thranduil smiled and kissed his son’s hair and hugged him. The king sighed as he stroked Legolas’ back, comforting the little elfling as he cried. After a few moments, Legolas’ sobs subsided and he gradually pulled away from his father’s chest and looked into Thranduil’s eyes with a sleepy gaze.

“My son, you look exhausted,” Thranduil chuckled, patting the little boy’s head. Legolas looked as if he were going to say something, but a great yawn stifled what words he was going to say, making his father laugh more.

“Shall we put you to bed for a small nap before dinner?” Thranduil asked.

“I want to know about Naneth.” Legolas said simply. Knowing he could put it off no longer, the king sighed.

“Do you remember me telling you that we used to live in the southern mountains before you were born?” Thranduil asked. Legolas nodded. “Well, just before you were born, evil things started to come to where we lived. It wasn’t safe for us anymore. So we decided to leave. Your mother was still carrying you in her when we departed. We were nearing the Forest Road when we were attacked by a band of Orcs.”

Thranduil stopped and swallowed as the memories he had repressed for so long came flashing back to him. He could hear the shouts loudly ringing in his ears, and an arrow flying at full speed into flesh. He shuddered.

“Ada?” Legolas asked. His father shook his head and breathed deeply before continued.

“Your mother was hit by an Orc’s arrow in the shoulder. The wound probably would not have been fatal, if it were not for the poison on the tip of the arrow.”

Legolas gasped, suddenly making a connection. His father did not want him to train with the bow because his father was afraid to send him into battle. Thranduil, taking his son’s gasp for fear, squeezed Legolas’ hand and continued.

“Your mother was very concerned for your well-being, for she knew the poison would soon mingle with your blood. She gathered all her strength and willed you to be born. And you were.” Thranduil’s voice broke, the memories causing sadness beyond belief for him. Nonetheless, he suppressed his tears and orated on.

“She saved you, Legolas. And she gave you something to remember her by. Do you wear the gold leaf necklace I gave you for your tenth begetting day?” Thranduil asked. Legolas nodded and took the chain that was around his neck out from under his collar and let it rest outside his clothing. Thranduil touched the leaf charm that hung on it.

“This was your mother’s. She gave it to you just before…” Thranduil’s voice trailed off, loosing his voice in his memories.

Legolas looked up at his father. “Ada, if I had not been born, would Naneth still be alive?” he asked. Thranduil looked at his son and saw the desperate look in his eyes. To be completely honest, Thranduil had no idea what would have become of his wife if she had not willed herself into labor, but he had always assumed that both she and Legolas would have perished that night. There was always the thought that perhaps their child would have died instead and Almwen would have remained, but Thranduil tried not to linger on that thought. He loved his son too much to harbor any animosity towards him, and he did not want Legolas constantly wondering if he had died, would his mother have lived.

“No.” Thranduil finally said. “I believe that I would have lost both of you that night, if it were not for your mother.”

Legolas, finally hearing for the first time the truth about his mother, felt a horrible sense of loss. He snuggled close to his father’s chest for comfort. A few tears trickled down his already tear-stained face as he looked up at his father.

“I wish I could have known her.” Legolas said quietly. Thranduil smiled.

“You know her very well, Legolas.” He said. The little prince looked at his father with confusion reflecting in his bright blue eyes. “Her spirit lives on in you.”

“What does that mean?” Legolas asked, wrinkling his nose.

“That means that you can find her when you look inside yourself.” Thranduil said, poking his son’s nose with his index finger. Legolas giggled and swatted his father’s hand, which resulted in a tickling attack on the little prince.

“Ada!” Legolas laughed, trying to wriggle away from his father. “No tickling!”

“What is that you say? More tickling?” Thranduil laughed.

“No! No more!” Legolas said between giggles.

The laughter of father and son echoed off of the foyer walls, creating a light-hearted, melodious mood in the room as the stone carving of Almwen observed the happy scene in watchful silence.