Between Duty and Love

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

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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.