Between Duty and Love

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)