Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

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"You will do no such thing." Thranduil lashed back. "I will not allow it. You are far too young to lead anything; your childish actions this afternoon have already proved it."

The door quietly opened and closed. It was past the noon hour and the king wanted to make sure his patient had had eaten. If he had, it would be the first time he had willingly eaten since he had been carried semi-conscious through the doors of the Houses of Healing, bleeding from multiple wounds.

Aragorn searched the bed but found it empty. He quickly scanned the room only to rest upon the open balcony doors. Quietly walking to the doors he finally spotted the figure he was looking for, a rather forlorn and pitiful looking figure, worn thin from the weeks of lying in bed and throwing up most of the food fed to him.

It was a beautiful day out, the sun shone brightly while the birds chirped merrily in the distance, but there was something obviously burdening the figure for no ready smile was upon the fair lips, and there was a shadow in his blue-gray eyes that stared to the North.

The slender figure was clad in loose leggings and a too large shirt that made sure it didn’t press against any of the bandages around his torso. Though the lacings in the front had been tied, it was large enough for the one side to slide off the white shoulder revealing the bandages, which were still white, much to Aragorn’s relief.

Unconsciously a slim hand reached up and over, dragging the shirt back on the shoulder only to have it slide off again. The blonde haired head shook in mild frustration and heaved a sigh.

“Troubled?” Aragorn smiled briefly, a wave of protectiveness rising up within him startling him. Though Legolas was many years his senior, perhaps it was his youthful appearance that made Aragorn look after the elf like a younger sibling.

“Aragorn.” Legolas greeted, a smile touching his lips before disappearing as quickly as it had come. “Don’t worry.” He opened the top part of the lacing. “They didn’t bleed through.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Aragorn seated himself on the balcony ledge enabling him to study the elf before him.

After a few moments of companionable silence, Legolas broke it. “You’re wondering why I haven’t sent word to my Adar aren’t you.” He said quietly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. His hair was not in his usual warrior braids, but hung in a single braid down his back.

“Yes.” Aragorn nodded. “Among other things. Do you wish to talk?” He asked neutrally.

Legolas briefly closed his eyes, fighting off a wave of nausea. Because of the wounds to his head and stomach mainly, it had been hard for him to even stand because the room would swim around him. It had only been by hanging onto the wall that he had been able to get to the balcony.

It had been exactly three weeks and four days since his arrival in the White City. Most of those days he did not remember because of the pain of his wounds and the haze of the high fever. A few elves had stayed with him because of their own wounds and a few more stayed just because he was their lord and heaven knew what humans would do.

He had dismissed his overprotective guards and sent them back to Ithilien; he knew he had no need of them here. Not with Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir and Eowyn visiting him almost daily and guards posted at his door.

As the silence drew on, Legolas became aware that he had not answered Aragorn’s question and his probing gaze. He gave a wan smile. “My mind wanders.” He said softly. “My heart aches Aragorn.” He began slowly. “The reason for not notifying my Adar is this.” He cast his gaze downward. “We no longer are on speaking terms.”

“What!” Aragorn stood up shocked. Ever since he had known Legolas and Thranduil he had found their relationship, though strained a loving and kind one. What had happened since then?

Legolas bit his lip, fighting the ache in his heart and the tears in his eyes. It still hurt even after nearly five years of cold silence. He could still hear the anger in his Adar’s voice as they argued. The chilling coldness between them when around others still remained ever present in his mind. He had lost a part of himself on that day, in more ways then one.

The elven prince knelt in the wet grass holding his best friend to his chest. His heart no longer beat, the fair lips were no longer turned upward in a ready smile, and the eyes that were once so full of life were now blank and empty, but all Legolas could think of, could remember was only a few moments earlier when Tarion’s laughter had rang out, then arrows had flown thudding into the elf’s body.

Then the space between there seemed to slow. Orcs screaming, shooting arrows at them, his own screams and his own arrows flying at the enemy, the slow realization that Tarion was dead and the dull aching pain that Gollum had escaped and he had failed. Again.

It was because of him that an elf was dead. Not for the first time either. He dreaded having to tell Tarion’s parents and even worse telling his Adar and king what had happened, of his failure to protect the realm.

He became aware of someone shaking him, trying to make him focus. He blinked tears from his eyes and looked up into the face of his guardian, Meldar.

‘No.’ Legolas thought desolately. ‘There was nothing more he could do.’ He very carefully stood with Tarion in his arms and they began the slow procession back to the palace.

In the dizzying haze that surrounded him afterwards, he forgot about the sword wound in his side and because of the blood from Tarion no one else noticed it either.

He bathed and changed in a daze, everything blurring around him because of the tears in his eyes. He dressed in his formal robes and placed the small circlet signifying his royal status upon his carefully combed hair. There was only a few times when he did not wear his hair in the traditional warrior braids and this report somehow seemed fitting that he wore his hair down.

The guards all stood a little taller, their shoulders thrown back a little more as their prince strode by. They dearly loved their prince and each wished that they could ease the pain in those clear gray blue eyes just a little, but knowing they couldn’t they sent up a silent prayer to the Valar in hopes that his ache would ease.

Standing outside the throne room door, Legolas took a deep breath trying to focus on what he needed to do. He nodded for the guard to announce him, and with his head held high he strode into the room and stood before his king.

With a single gesture, Thranduil ordered the court to be emptied. After the last elf left and the silence once more reigned Thranduil lashed out a question. “What were you thinking?” He shouted.

“Sorry.” Thranduil scoffed. He was angry, far angrier than he had been in a long while. “You are always sorry.” He stood with a sudden movement that made Legolas take a step backward. “Well sorry won’t bring back Tarion.” He hissed.

The words were like a cold knife to Legolas’ heart. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

Thranduil sighed suddenly and sank into his chair and gestured for Legolas to make his report.

Legolas did so, quietly and with his voice breaking every so often as the pain of his friend’s death threatened to overwhelm him. Once finished he requested permission to follow Gollum and capture him once more.

Thranduil snorted. “Do you honestly think I would allow more warriors to die under your care?” He snapped. The moment he said the words he immediately regretted them, but there was no turning back.

“You may not know it.” Legolas snapped back. “But I am one of the best archers in your realm.”

Thranduil snorted, too angry to actually think upon what he was saying and what devastating impact it would have. “So good that your best friend died when on watch with you?”

Thranduil watched horrified as a wall slammed between them. The love and affection they once held openly was now shut. His son was no longer his son but one of his warriors to command. But his pride, his stubborn pride refused to allow him to back up and apologize for the devastating words.

“You will do no such thing.” Thranduil lashed back. “I will not allow it. You are far too young to lead anything; your childish actions this afternoon have already proved it.”

With a look that would haunt his father’s heart for the rest of his life, Legolas turned and walked defiantly away.

Thranduil sank back in his chair after the door slammed behind his son, and buried his face in his hands, cursing his stubborn pride and the stubborn pride that was also in his son.

“Recapturing Gollum and killing orcs will not bring back Tarion.” Meldar said quietly.

Legolas halted, surprising his guardian who almost toppled over trying not to run into his charge.

Turning suspiciously bright blue-gray eyes upon Meldar, he replied in a low whisper. “I know, which is exactly why I am going.”

Meldar sighed. “You had an argument again didn’t you?” He knew very well of the frequent arguments and the lost tempers between the royal father and son.

“It’s none of your business.” Legolas replied flatly, continuing onward to his room. He jerked open the door and stormed in, ripping the robe from his shoulders revealing a loose under tunic that had been hastily thrown on, so hastily that Meldar saw that Legolas had not even tied the lacing together to keep it on his shoulders, and one side of the shirt had fallen down revealing a white shoulder.

Legolas angrily jerked the shirt up and quickly tied the lacings together. He threw on a dark gray tunic that would blend well with the growing shadows of night. He easily unstrung his bow and secured behind his back after he also secured his quiver and knives.

He would be running to catch up with the orcs and would not stop until he had killed every last one of the foul breed. There was a fierce determination that startled Meldar, a strange light shone in the blue-gray eyes of his charge that he had never seen before and it frankly scared him.

The prince paid no attention to him and pulling on his tall black boots used for when he was on patrol, stormed out the door.

“Legolas!” Meldar ran after him, his concern raises several notches. He had only seen Legolas like this once before… A long while ago when the queen had been on her way with Legolas to Rivendell. They had been ambushed and Legolas had been forced to watch the orcs brutally rape then murder her.

It was a rather strange ordeal even now… No one exactly knew what had happened that fateful day, part of the reason because the prince and queen had been purposely captured then moved taken to a small cave away from the guards and the other part was due to the fact that Legolas never spoke about that day. Only the guards only knew what they had found, the queen dead along with the small band of orcs that had captured them. They had found Legolas a short distance away in a small muddle of mostly mud and a small amount of water, scrubbing at his skin, tears pouring down his face. But he made not a single sound, his skin nearly rubbed off in several places and bleeding.

It had taken six warriors to calm him down, and in the end they ended up using a drug to pacify him. For three years he didn’t speak a single word. He obeyed every order from the healers and from his Adar. He always stayed within arms reach of Thranduil almost as if he was terrified to lose sight of him for just a few seconds.

It had been in the first of those three long years of silence that Meldar had been assigned to the prince. It had been Meldar who had coaxed the prince to start speaking again and it had been he who had trained Legolas in his skills as a warrior.

Legolas never said a single word about what had happened on that fateful day when the queen had died. No one knew what had really happened and none really wanted to press the already heartbroken prince for the details. So it remained a mystery, left buried in the past much to the relief of the prince and the curiosity of everyone else.

No one, not even Lord Elrond could pry into the prince’s heart and reveal what had happened. It remained tightly closed and locked to all.

“Legolas!!! Answer me!” Meldar called again frantically. He managed to catch up with the nearly running elf and jerked his arm back to make him stop.

“What are you planning?” Meldar hissed. He still had on his sword and his knives but had taken off his bow when he had entered the palace.

“I am going to kill the orcs that killed Tarion.” Legolas said quietly but with such a force that it shook the other elf, chilling his heart.

“I’m not trying to prove anything.” Legolas ground out, frustrated with his guardian who held him back from his chase.

“You cannot win his respect nor his pride Legolas.” Meldar continued. “It is something freely given and freely returned. Not something to be won.” He placed his hand on the other’s shoulder comfortingly.

He was surprised when Legolas jerked himself away. “I do not wish to hear of it.” He said shakily.

Legolas whirled around, tears in the blue-gray eyes.” I want him to hate me!” He yelled. He suddenly paused, remembering that fateful day, he closed his eyes and repeated quietly but just as forceful, "I want him to hate me."

“Because I killed her.” Legolas said brokenly. “I killed her.” He wiped tears that were falling too fast. “I want him to hate me for killing her.”

Legolas held on to him like a drowning man to a lifesaving raft. It was in the moment that the emotional walls that Legolas had built up so strong shattered in an instant. His knees buckled and he took Meldar down with him. His agony was a raw pain that left his guardian half in pain as well.

The prince’s keening cries were heard and healers were immediately sent for. Grief was a dangerous thing in an elf, but even more so for Legolas. His grief had been kept secret for a long time and in doing so, it was like a hidden wound, slowly festering until there was nothing more one could do about it.

His breath soon came in gasps as he struggled to keep his hold on his fraying emotions….

Thranduil rushed towards the hall where his son was… Though he could easily command thousands of warriors, a simple healer summoning him was enough for him to lose all control.

He stumbled to a halt at the sight of his son holding onto his guardian, sobbing as if his heart would break.

‘You should be the one in my place.’ The guardian’s gaze bore through Thranduil’s heart.

Terrified Thranduil pulled his son away from Meldar, needing to know but not wanting to know what condition his son was in.

His face was ashen in color, his eyelids were closed and his breath shallow. His wound that hadn’t yet been attended to suddenly ripped further open and blood gushed out. Horrified, Thranduil carefully gathered his son in his arms then with Meldar behind him walked to the healer’s ward.

Legolas never knew that in those first three days of anxious waiting for him to wake up, it was his father that was at his side. Not a healer, not his guardian but his Adar.

All he knew was that the first face he glimpsed was of his guardian. He didn’t know that the healers had drugged his Adar to get him away fro his son’s bed. All he knew was that his Adar wasn’t there.

In the next few days as he rested and recovered, he never once saw his Adar enter the healers ward, but what he didn’t know was that his Adar did indeed visit him. But it was as he slept, often in the darkest hour of night, Thranduil would creep in holding a small candle up to look upon his son’s face.

He would sooth away the marred brow that reflected the prince’s inner turmoil and then would press a tender kiss upon his forehead.

He would then stand and with a sigh would leave, knowing that Legolas would never remember his nocturnal visits, but he couldn’t bring himself to face the blue-gray eyes so like his own, yet not.

There was a deep agony, a shame, self-torture and misery in the blue-gray eyes that stared back at him. And it literally pained his father’s heart to know that his son was in pain, but there was nothing he could really do about it.

The horses panicked first. That was always the first thing he remembered. Then the screams of the orcs came.

He would always remember the terrified look on her face. The absolute horror on the guards faces as they were carried away. And then the pain from the orcs cruelly tight grips on his arms.

He would always remember her frantic attempt to escape and her screams at him for to flee... He would always remember that he didn’t... That he had stood frozen in terror, watching as the orcs easily subdued her... Then in horror as the orcs ripped off her clothing... His young innocent mind to numb to really comprehend what was taking place...

If only he had run he might had found the guards in time... If only he had listened... If only he had obeyed her last command... If only... If only...

After the deed had been done, and her blood soaked into the ground, he had erupted. Not caring anymore... Not feeling anymore...

The words of denial and self-condemnation echoed in his mind. ’She’s not dead... It’s all my fault...’

When the last orc had fallen, he had turned to her, but her blank, lifeless eyes stared back at him... Condemning him of her death.

And so he had run, trying to find water to clean himself of the orcs foul blood and stench and her shamed gaze.

They had found him there... In a small muddle of mostly mud and a little bit of dirty water... Tears pouring down his cheeks, but not a single sound coming from him...

He was afraid of what they would say when they realized that he had helped kill her. So he obeyed every command, half afraid of what would happen if he didn’t. Afraid of what his Ada might say he remained silent, speaking to no one for nearly three years.

Meldar had been assigned to him the first year, but the prince had rarely left his Adar’s side for the guardian to do much of anything but stay by his charge’s side. But in those years, Meldar slowly gained the prince’s fragile trust, but never his full trust until one night when his nightmare came back with a full viciousness, that had him screaming unconscious for several minutes.

Thranduil had been called away to a settlement and hadn’t been there as he usually had been. So it had been Meldar who had quietly taken the trembling form into his arms and humming a lullaby, rocked the prince back to sleep.

It was then that Legolas had given Meldar a trust that he had only given his Adar, and it had been Meldar who had gotten him to speak again.

Disclaimer: See default chapter

Chapter 3: Escape from the past

Legolas stared about him, wearied at his emotional tale, yet needing to find the strength to finish.

“A few days later we received a message from Lord Elrond about a council that was to take place.” He swallowed. “Since it was my responsibility, I was sent to inform the council of Gollum’s escape.”

Aragorn winced remembering his words all too clearly. “How is it that the folk of Thranduil have betrayed their trust?”

Compared to what Legolas had just told him, it must have been like a slap in the face, an added insult that shouldn’t have been spoken. He cleared his throat. “Are you planning at all to tell your Adar about you blaming yourself for your Naneth’s death?”

The look the elf shot him would have fried an orc into ashes.

“Are you going to let me finish or not?” He asked, rolling his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Flashback

Thranduil’s POV

Thranduil sighed, staring at the ever-smaller figure of his son galloping away from the palace. They had argued once again but this time with words of far greater hurt than before.

He hadn’t meant to tell his son that he had been an accident, that he hadn’t been wanted. He hadn’t meant to, but the words just slipped out.

Legolas’ face had turned white, and he had swayed dangerously. His wound, though healed would often pain him. A mixture of physical and mental pain would never allow the wound to fully disappear.

Tears smarted the blue-gray eyes, but no hand reached up to brush them away. And so they slid, caressing the cheeks... Some slid off down below his chin and a few slid into his lips. Instinctively his tongue slid over his lips, catching the salty tears.

Surprised, a shaking hand lifted and brushing several tears away, stared at them... Almost uncomprehending the fact that he was silently crying. He rubbed the tears between his fingers, looking at them sadly.

He had not shed tears since his wife had died, so many long years ago now, but now his relationship with his son in tatters, he found that he was alone... So utterly alone...

Legolas’ POV

He refused to look back. Though his heart ached and his eyes threatened to fill with tears, he denied himself. He had cried to many tears and he had let his heart’s emotions take him over too many times.

He knew that Meldar was looking at him, worried not only for his physical health but his mental and emotional stability.

He took a deep breath, then slowly let it release. “Meldar?” He asked quietly.

“Yes Legolas?” Meldar answered just as quietly.

“Help me.”

Meldar edged his horse alongside his prince’s. “With what?”

“Help me face Aragorn.” Legolas said simply. “Help me know I can do this.”

“Oh Legolas.” Meldar sighed. “You know you can do this. You know it.”

“So why doesn’t Adar know it?” Legolas whispered.

“He knows it.” Meldar said confidently. “But he refuses to acknowledge it.”

Legolas pulled the reins back. “Why?” He asked in a tortured voice.

“Because he doesn’t want to loose you like he lost your Naneth.” Meldar said simply.

“So he denies the fact that he ever wanted a son?” Legolas questioned, his mind whirling with confusion and pain.

“Think of it this way Legolas.” Meldar said gently. “You hold in your hand the life of your Adar. You have the ability to make him laugh or cry, you even have the ability to tear his heart in two.” Meldar sighed. “And in return he also has the same gift or curse.”

He hesitated; knowing that the words he would speak could easily break or mend the torn bond between father and son.

“He is only doing the best he can to keep you within arms reach.” Meldar started out. “You may think that he is being too overprotective or that he is doing because he doesn’t think highly of your skills, but it is quite the opposite. He denies the fact that he ever wanted you because he doesn’t want felt he pain he felt when he lost your Naneth. But...” He held a finger up silencing whatever the prince was about to speak. “He cannot help but love you and in loving you he also fears you.”

“Fears me?” Legolas was taken aback.

“He fears the fact that there is always the possibility that you will die, just like your Naneth. He fears the hold you have one him and he also fears the hold he has on you.” Meldar paused. “In hurting him you only hurt yourself.” He gave a small sad smile. “And vice versa.”

As they bedded down for the night, Legolas thought over his guardian’s words and how true they really were. But there was a stubborn pride that refused him to apologize for his own hurtful words and actions.

Flash Forward

“So why didn’t you make it up when you went back to Mirkwood for the two years you were there?” Aragorn asked quietly.

Legolas shrugged, the gesture making him seem all the more vulnerable. “I tried, but the wrong words always came out.” He frowned, trying, needing to find the right words but not really being able too. “Every time I tried we would just end up yelling at each other.” He sighed.

Aragorn shook his head. “There’s got to be some way for you and your father to get along at least for the sakes of other elves.” He said musing.

Legolas winced. “That’s what Meldar said too.”

A low chuckle turned the king and prince towards the previously empty room.

Meldar strode through the balcony doors carrying a teapot and three cups as well as several scones. “Queen Arwen sent me.” He informed them. “She was worried that Legolas might be in pain so she also sent this.” He reached into a hidden pocket and revealed a small vial of a yellow liquid.

Legolas’ lips turned up in disgust. “I’ll have you know that I am perfectly fine.” He stated, glaring at the vial. “I’m not in any pain at all.”

“I thought that is what you would say.” Meldar chuckled again. He replaced the vial in a pocket and setting the tray down served the king of Gondor and the prince of Eryn Lasgalan tea.

Legolas stirred the tea, the spoon clinking against the cup as he did so. He wasn’t at all hungry, nor was he thirsty, but he had a feeling that either his guardian or his best friend would force him to do one of the two and right now the tea was probably the only his stomach could handle. Either that or take the vial of the yellow liquid.

He took a small sip aware of two sets of eyes upon him as he did so. He grimaced as the hot liquid burned his tongue.

“Hot enough?” He asked scathingly to his guardian. He ran his tongue along his upper teeth, feeling the strange numb feel of a burn.

“Sorry.” Meldar shrugged. “I just did what I was told to do.”

Legolas sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Are your...” Aragorn started.

“No they aren’t.” Legolas interrupted. He winced at the harshness in his voice. “Sorry.” He apologized again, sipping his tea to try and cover the sudden flush to his cheeks.

“I wrote your father a week ago Legolas.” Aragorn said abruptly. “I just received a message that he is on his way and should arrive by tomorrow.”

Legolas choked on his tea.

Meldar carefully pounded on his back.

“You did what?!” Legolas sputtered, still choking on his tea.

“I wrote to your father a week ago.” Aragorn began to repeat himself, but stopped when Legolas cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“I heard you the first time.” Legolas glared at the king of Gondor. “Why did you send for him?” He demanded.

“Well first of all, you nearly died six times in the past fourteen days.” Aragorn ticked off one finger. “Second of all, you aren’t healing like an elf usually does.” He ticked off another finger. “And third of all, because it’s for your own good.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and leveled a stare at the elf, who suddenly felt like an elfling who did something naughty and was standing before his Adar to receive his punishment.

Legolas scowled, pushing himself up and for just a second forgot about his wounds... But then the nausea rushed back and he sank back onto the bench, unconsciously wrapping an arm around his stomach. The few sips of tea threatened to reappear, but with an effort Legolas refused to throw up yet again.

He knew that both his guardian and best friend were watching him, but made no move to help him.

“When do you expect him?” The prince sighed, half accepting his fate.

“Sometime tomorrow.” Aragorn replied calmly taking another sip from his cup.

Legolas grimaced. “I’m glad you told enough in advance so I could at least bath and change clothes.”

“I’ve already had water start to be heated for you.” Aragorn said offhandedly. “And I know Meldar brought some of your better clothes when he came from Ithilien.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes at his guardian. “You knew didn’t you?”

Meldar shrugged. “Of course I knew, I’m your guardian, I’m supposed to know everything.”

“Ha.” Legolas retorted, trying once more to push himself up. He half succeeded, but then sank back down as the world spun dizzily around him. He groaned. “This will never do, I can barely stand let alone receive my father.”

“So you still consider him your father?” Aragorn questioned.

The startled look on Legolas’ face, told him exactly what he wanted to know.

“What kind of a question is that?” The prince demanded. “Of course he is still my father.” He tried pushing himself up again, still not succeeding. “Now would you be so kind as to help me?”

“I need to check your bandages.” Aragorn said standing up, grasping the elven prince’s arm he helped him stand as well.

Legolas scowled at both kings wavering in front of him. “They are healing just fine ranger.”

Aragorn chuckled. “I hope that isn’t an insult, because if it is you seriously have lost your touch Mellon Nin.”

Legolas rolled his eyes, but said noting, allowing the human to help him back to the bed.

Aragorn ignored the prince’s glare, and pulled the ties on the elf’s tunic and forcefully pulled it up and over his head. Easily sliding his knife out he easily sliced the tied knot and began to unwind the bandage.

The bandage was a large one; it started over the Prince’s right arm and ended at his hips. Once unwrapped, Aragorn inspected the long puckered reddish-white skin that was pulled together by long rows of stitches. The largest one ran from the top of the Prince’s right shoulder and ended at his left hip. The shortest one was probably six inches long that ran horizontal across his stomach.

He had gotten so mad, he had told Aragorn jokingly, that he had almost spilt his guts.

Aragorn had rolled his eyes, but knew that another inch deeper and his elf friend probably would not have made it... No matter how hard he or any of the other elves tried.

The two friends had both ignored that fact that one of them had nearly died...

A slight groan from Legolas told Aragorn that the cuts were still taking their own time to heal, despite the frequent changing of bandages and ointment.

The king sighed, shaking his head. He wished that his foster father, Elrond had not departed over the sea. So many times he would turn to ask a question and realize that the other healer beside him was not Elrond. There were still so many questions that he wished he could ask... So many answers he wished he could have in the palm of his hand...

He had taken up, in his spare time of writing a book of all the healing skills he had ever learned. Which in all things considered was quite a bit.

He sighed again, he half thought that it was grief that kept the prince from healing, but his wounds were still very severe...

His fingers gently probed the wounds, ignoring the hisses of pain coming from above him. There was a slight infection, but that was to be expected... In all, the Prince was healing nicely enough in human’s terms. For an elf, that was something completely different. He had known many times that Legolas and he would get almost an identical cut, or some sort of wound, and Legolas would always heal several times faster.

He silently rubbed the ointment on the many puckered lines of skin then re- bandaged them.

“Well they are healing as best as I can get them.” Aragorn raised his hands to show that he was finished.

Legolas said nothing, but wincing got the tunic settled back over his torso and re-laced the ties.

He looked at Meldar then at Aragorn. A plan was forming in his mind and the only way he could get it to work was if the two in front of him to somehow leave...

“Do I at least get the bathe alone?” He pleaded, turning his blue-gray eyes upon Aragorn first then Meldar.

Meldar’s lips twisted quickly to prevent anyone to see the sudden smile. Very few could ever resist that look... Not even Thranduil could resist that look. When Legolas usually wanted something, he usually got it...

So, Meldar supposed, it was a good thing that his Prince did not utilize the look very often.

“Well...” Aragorn hesitated.

And Meldar knew that Aragorn was lost.

“Please?” Legolas opened his eyes slightly and put a slight pout of his lips.

Aragorn looked slightly lost. He had never been given such a pitiful look from his friend before and was quite at a loss what to say. He looked up, pleadingly at Meldar who simply smiled.

“Aragorn.” Legolas captured the man’s attention once more. “I have bathed myself since before your great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great...”

“Finished?” Aragorn questioned amused.

“Not quite.” Legolas smirked. “Great, great, great grandfather was even born.”

“Ok.” Aragorn stood. “I think that I can believe you, just make sure not to wash the wounds with soap.”

Legolas’ lips turned upward in a sneer. “You mean the lavender scented soap?”

Aragorn looked startled. “Is it? I didn’t know.”

“You know.” Legolas complained. “The male elves in Ada’s.” He caught the slip but not fast enough. “Adar’s kingdom would never even think about having lavender scented soap, but here I find it everywhere!” He finished brashly, silently cursing the slip of his tongue.

Aragorn smirked, choosing to ignore the slip. “What? Don’t you like it when men ask you if you are available?”

Meldar chuckled.

Legolas’ eyes narrowed.

Meldar stopped.

Aragorn smiled. “Well, I think Meldar and I can leave you in peace for a little while.”

“Don’t worry about.” Legolas said seriously. “I’ll be fine. I won’t drown myself and I won’t scrub the stitches.”

Aragorn laughed. “I would hope not. I would hate to tell King Thranduil of your death.” He chuckled. “He’d probably raise you from the dead and then kill you again.”

Despite himself, Legolas had to laugh. The description of his father was apt.

And so the guardian and king left Legolas alone with a smile upon his face. He watched making sure that the door was firmly shut and no footsteps could be heard, he then slowly stood and went to a nearby panel.

Faramir had once shown him many secret tunnels leading from one room to another. The one in this particular room would lead him to exactly where he wanted to go. The stables.

His slender fingers finding the small notch in the he pushed in, and the secret door swung open.

The Prince bit his lip, then going to a nearby table he hastily scrawled a note to Aragorn and Meldar.

He knew that Aragorn would probably rush after him with Meldar on his heels, with a whole escort of guards behind them, but if he got a good enough head start he could easily be back in his colony before they could ever catch up to him.

Taking a small candle in his hand, he quickly moved towards the door and once safely inside, the door swung shut, leaving an empty room.

TBC:

"Sire! There are several elves who demand to see you." A guard bowed in the hall after rushing towards the guardian and king. "One says that he is King Thranduil of the Eryn Lasgalan Realm."

Meldar and Aragorn exchanged surprised glances. They had not expected the king so soon.

"How many other elves are there?" Aragorn questioned, his legs already carrying him quickly to the throne room.

"At least twenty My Lord." The guard replied. "Also Lord Faramir has also returned, and he asks to see you immediately as well." The guard hesitated. "He asked that you see him before you do King Thranduil."

Very quickly entering the throne room and sitting down, Aragorn gestured for Faramir to come in.

He did so very hurriedly and gave a short bow. He had been to Henneth Annuin for a couple of days after Aragorn had practically forced him to take a short leave of absence.

Faramir did his job with a vengeance that left little un-done, but because of all the reports, papers and other things, Faramir would often not go to bed until mid-night or later and would often wake up sometime even before the sun rose. And more often that not, he would either skip eating or forget about it entirely was he so engrossed in his work.

So Aragorn had forced him to take a couple days leave with his ranger's. "Sleep under the stars and eat over a campfire." Aragorn had said, gently forcing the younger male to leave.

In the end Faramir had resisted and Aragorn had watched triumphantly knowing that the ranger turned Steward would come back refreshed and the lines under his eyes would have disappeared.

He was right, as usual. Though Legolas would have scoffed at him for saying so. But looking at the re-freshened Steward before him, Aragorn knew that the few days of chaos without the Steward had been well worth it all.

"Exceedingly well thank you." Faramir grinned a bit bigger, then sobered. "But I was going to ask you why you let Legolas leave without being fully dressed?"

"WHAT?!" Aragorn shouted coming up off the throne and quickly ran down the steps. "Where did you see him?"

Aragorn groaned. "And with Thranduil at my front door too." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He knew why Legolas had ran, escaping from the palace and the confrontation with his Adar, but...

He turned to Faramir. "We will talk about your trip later." He promised. "Can you send a guard after Legolas? Don't stop him, just make sure he gets to Ithilien alright and make sure to send some extra bandages along."

The front doors opened and King Thranduil strode in with several elves flanking him.

Aragorn inclined his head, showing respect for the other king. "King Thranduil."

"Thank you for coming so quickly." Aragorn gestured for him to be seated in one of the council chairs and took one himself. "However, Legolas is no longer here."

Thranduil immediately sat back, relaxing the taunt shoulders. "I'm not surprised." He returned.

"But since Legolas isn't here to object to anything." Aragorn's lips turned upward in a quick smile. "I think you might like to hear what Legolas told me."

Thranduil made a steeple with his long fingers. "I would be most eager to do so."

Legolas held back a moan. The jarring ride was only making his wounds hurt more and he was half afraid that most of the stitching would be ripped out.

His Adar's party had just entered the fifth level of Minas Tirith when Legolas had made his get away. And he hoped that his escape would not be noticed for a while, or at least until he got over half way to his small but growing colony of elves.

Then whoever was sent after him would know that it would be closer and easier to bring him to his colony. He hoped anyway. Hopefully he would soon run into a patrol that would help him back to the colony.

And there, in the distance was a small band of men, obviously rangers, and Faramir's rangers to be exact, with Faramir in front.

Legolas put his head down on the horse's back and groaned. He knew that he would not win any battle with Aragorn nor Meldar in his weakened condition, but Faramir... Faramir was a different subject all together.

Though Meldar was an elf, and his guardian, he usually refrained from using such a sharp tongue with his charge. Now Faramir on the other hand, was not an elf, but had the quickness of mind and tongue that would often amaze even Legolas. He could easily read into the hearts of men, and if allowed into the hearts of elves.

Legolas had grown close to the young Steward of Gondor and he knew that Faramir knew many things about his Adar that Aragorn could never understand.

After many midnight talks, Legolas had realized that Faramir was quite a bit like him. They both had craved their father's love and approval, but unlike Legolas, Faramir didn't have a chance to reconcile with his own father.

And the stark brutality of that simple truth was enough for the Steward to almost beg the elven prince to reconcile with his father.

Faramir knew all too well the aching need to find love and approval of a father, but he also knew too well the bitter denial of both. Many times when the elven prince and the Steward would sit down and talk, Faramir would often tell Legolas many tales of trying to make himself worthy of his father's praise and of the many failures as well.

The prince would listen quietly, but often would say nothing. He would sometimes tell the young man of early childhood memories instead, changing the mood from sober to lighthearted. He would never speak, no matter how hard Faramir tried, of the arguments between he and his father. That was strictly something kept hidden, away from common gossip.

So Faramir had accepted that didn't want to talk about the wall between the father and son, but as he had put it, it didn't mean that he was giving up.

Knowing that they were going to catch up inevitably, Legolas reined in his horse and carefully sliding to the ground, sat down, awaiting the Steward's arrival.

He watched them ride up and then dismount. "Did Aragorn send you to fetch me back?" Legolas asked his voice resigned.

"Actually no." Faramir replied, sitting down next to the elf. "Aragorn just wanted to make sure that you got safely wherever you wanted to go."

"He's talking to my Adar isn't he?" Legolas groaned, burying his head in his hands.

Faramir chuckled. "Of course. Do you really think he would let that opportunity be missed?"

Legolas sighed. "No, I wasn't exactly thinking." He made a face. "I just wanted to escape."

"Have you ever wanted to get away, but knew you couldn't no matter how hard you tried?" Legolas replied with a question of his own. "Your friends know exactly what is a matter with you, but you don't want them to help you. You just want to hurt and make the other hurt too. So instead of facing the problem you run." He lowered his head. "Just like you always have."

"You know. "Legolas ignored the question. "I can easily face Trolls, Ring wraiths, Orcs, Uruk Hai's and Spiders but I shake in terror to face my Adar."

"Because he has a greater ability to hurt you in a different way." Faramir explained gently. "Trolls, Ring wraiths, Orcs, Uruk Hai's and Spiders can hurt you physically, but your father can hurt your emotionally, mentally. He can get past your defenses and strike the most vulnerable place in your heart that you have probably without even knowing it."

The Steward looked down, the words were striking too close to his own wounds, his own hurts. He said nothing, but placed a hand upon the shaking shoulder.

"I told him that I wished I had a different Adar." Legolas replied bitterly regretting the words echoing in his mind.

"I have only told two people what happened on that day." Legolas replied. "You and Aragorn. Meldar doesn't even know."

"Why?" Faramir pressed. "Why is it that I know and Aragorn knows, but not even your guardian nor your father knows?"

"I killed my father's wife, and my mother." Legolas replied scathingly. "Do you honestly think I want to be banished for the rest of my life?"

"So you'd rather be at odds with your father the rest of your life." Faramir shot back. "And you did not kill your mother."

"Did you take a knife and stab her? Did you shot arrows into her? Did you take a spear and spear her?" Faramir pressed.

"I didn't obey her." Legolas closed his eyes. "She told me to run, but I didn't. If I would have run I could have gotten the guards and they would have saved her, but I didn't."

"If, Legolas, if." Faramir sighed. "When your mother did everything in her power to help you escape, she knew her life was already forfeit, but she also knew that the guards were near by and if you ran that you could easily find them and they would take care of you. She did not want you to run for the guards to come and save her as well. She wanted you to be safe. She wanted you to escape."

"But I just stood there." Legolas choked back a sob. "I just stood there and watched."

"Legolas, you were but a child. You didn't know what to do. You were just starting your warrior training. How were you supposed to know what to do?" Faramir questioned.

"I killed them." Legolas whispered, starting to shake, not only from his wounds, but also from many years of silent pain and suffering. "I killed all the orcs." He turned tortured eyes upon the young man beside him. "If I would have just killed them sooner then she would be alive."

"Legolas." Faramir drew the elf's attention to him. "Your mother knew what she was doing."

"Oh Legolas." Faramir drew the hurting elf into his arms, and let the fair being sob in his arms. "You didn't kill her, the orcs did."

Faramir brushed a stray tear from the flushed cheek. "No." He said simply. Then watched as Legolas' face slowly crumbled, the impenetrable wall slowly shattering.

Aragorn shrugged. "I don't know, but what I do know is, that he thinks that you hate him."

"Where would he get a...Oh..." Thranduil buried his face in his hands, startling the King of Gondor, who had never once seen the King of Eryn Lasgalan loose control.

"One day." Thranduil sighed. "You will know exactly how I feel." He gave a small smile. "Now, where is my son?"

Faramir was starting to get worried. He knew that Legolas needed his father, but didn't know when Thranduil would come.

What Legolas also needed was a healer. Blood was slowly seeping through the bandages because of either torn or loosened stitches.

Legolas raised himself up, revealing flushed cheeks, red swollen eyes and tears easily falling down. There was a fear in the blue-gray eyes that Faramir wished he could soothe, but knew that only one person could ease that. The elf was still hiccupping slightly and as he scrubbed his eyes, Faramir could easily picture a much younger, much more vulnerable elfling whose mother had just died.

As the two Kings came closer, Legolas tried to pull himself together, but there was too much pain built up, too much anger, too much hurt to really even try.

Thranduil gasped at the sight of his son sitting on the ground, half enclosed in a comforting embrace, tears falling from red swollen eyes.

Without a single thought, except for the health of his son, he threw himself off of his horse, still almost at a full gallop.

"Legolas." Thranduil breathed his son's name as he rushed forward to enfold the shaking figure into his arms.

The humans carefully withdrew leaving the royal father and son sitting on the ground, one sobbing as if his heart would break, and the other looking as if he would start crying.

After a few moments, Legolas slowly calmed down. He took several shaky breaths and gave his Adar an insecure smile.

"Now tell me what is a matter." Thranduil said, sounding quite a bit like the Ada of old, when Ada wasn't scared of anything and could easily conquer the world with just his pinky.

Feeling every bit like a small elfling who just climbed into bed with his parents after a nightmare, Legolas told the entire story starting from the beginning of that fateful trip with his Naneth, to the present.

He told of his guilt, his pain, his sorrow, and his silent anguish of not wanting to tell anyone. He told of his agony of watching his mother be brutally raped then murdered. He told of his own anger at himself for not doing something sooner. He told of trying to wash off the guilt of her shamming gaze and of his failure.

The words so long built up of self condemnation poured out, and Thranduil knowing that Legolas needed to talk, kept silent, but every so often placed a comforting hand on the shaking shoulder, or would gently wipe away tears.

It was dark by the time that Legolas had finally finished and they were both exhausted. Legolas was far more exhausted of the two because of his still healing wounds.

It didn't take long and soon Thranduil coaxed the tired prince into his arms and stood with him half asleep.

He quietly called out to Aragorn, and they carefully mounted and slowly rode back to the palace.

Since Aragorn and Faramir knew of Legolas' complete story, Thranduil quietly told them that Legolas had been able to pour out his feelings. But there was one thing that Thranduil said that Legolas kept on repeating.

The King of Gondor and the Steward could easily see that the words tore at Thranduil's heart. Both wished they could ease his pain, but both also knew that Legolas would have to help heal that particular wound himself.

As they slowly rode back to Minas Tirith, Legolas fell completely asleep, his eyelids falling to shut out the pain in the depths of the blue-gray eyes.

He tried to move, but it hurt too much, so he allowed his wounded, bleeding body to settle back down on the soft grass and gazed tiredly at the gently moving leaves.

They had been on a simple patrol when a roving band of orcs had attacked. At first the elves had easily dispatched killed the few orcs, but then more had arrived and kept on arriving, and soon outnumbered the elves.

Legolas had been the first to fall underneath the gleeful orcs swords, taking a long but not deep cut from his right shoulder and ending at his hip. He had bent forward to try and escape the blow, but got a cudgel in the head for his trouble. His body automatically trying to evade another blow, he threw his head backwards narrowly missing a sweep with a sword that would have taken his head with it.

Knowing he had to get back on his feet, even if to encourage his elves, Legolas strained to grab onto something, someone to help him rise back to his feet.

As he slowly regained his feet, using one arm to push himself upward and the other to block any blows coming his way, he didn't see his elves frantically push their way towards him in an attempt to protect him. He didn't see several elves fall dead and dying as they went nearly berserk with panic that their Prince was down.

"To the Prince!" They shouted courageously, placing their bodies in the paths of the weapons turned toward their Prince. Immortal blood slowly soaking in the ground as the patrol of twenty soon became five, then two.

As Legolas turned his battle enraged gaze upon the orcs, he hardly felt the orcs blows to his own bleeding body.

His voice joined the furious screams of his last two fighting warriors as they threw themselves in the battle for their lives.

Blows came lightening quick on his battered body, tearing open new cuts or enlarging older ones. Blood easily soaked his clothes and dripped down to the ground, joining in with the blood of elves and orcs alike.

A sword carved a chunk of flesh from his back, making him arch in agony, exposing his vulnerable stomach. He never saw the sword as it swung towards his stomach, the orc holding it intent on making the elf's guts spill.

Taithar had always wanted to be a guard in the King's guard. He had always read of the fierce courage of the elves who had guarded and died trying to save King Oropher and who had ultimately saved Prince, now King Thranduil. His heart had always beat a little quicker when he would reread the tales of old and he had been thrilled when he had been chosen as a guard for Prince Legolas.

He had always wondered if he would be willing to put his life on the line for his Prince, and in those mere seconds that seemed to last a lifetime, he knew what he had to do, and accepted it calmly and willingly.

As the sword arched towards his Prince's vulnerable stomach and began to ruthlessly cut Taithar stepped forward and using his body as a shield intercepted the blow.

The force of the blow was so strong that the sword didn't stop until it was halfway through Legolas stomach as well as Taithar's own stomach, but because of Taithar's involuntary jerk backward, the sword only cut barely an inch into Legolas' skin.

Even in his own agony, Taithar searched the wound as he fell to his knees. There was a cut probably about six inches across the Prince's stomach, but it wasn't fatal, but with all the rest of the Prince's wounds, and the blood that poured freely from the several cuts the Prince was in a dire situation.

Taithar howled in agony as the sword was ruthlessly yanked from his body and he fell gracefully to the ground.

The Prince was on his knees staring vacantly at a distant point in a memory that only he could see.

Using the last of his strength, Taithar reached up and forced the Prince down, then crawled on top of him covering him. He could see the Prince's lips moving and as his ear reached the Prince's mouth he could hear the whispered words.

Unable to draw a breath Taithar's last thought was of regret, that though he had died saving his Prince, he had been unable to comfort him in a time of need.

Another patrol had been sent out from Ithilien to search for the lost party and it was they who found the twenty elves and their Prince lying as they had fallen. There were several that were alive, but there were more that were not.

The Prince was barely breathing and his heartbeat was actually slowing as fingers frantically pressed against his chest trying to keep the heart going.

The dead were gently placed in a line and their faces carefully covered in order to be taken back to their family in Eryn Lasgalan.

The living and the almost dead were hastily placed upon stretchers to be carried to the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith. Only four elves survived the trip to Minas Tirith. Three were taken by their kin back to Ithilien to be prepared to be sent back to Eryn Lasgalan.

Songs of grief rose in the hearts of the elves that had found their Prince and his patrol's last stand and it was so strong that the trees around them took up their anguished cry and carried to Lothlorien and then onto Eryn Lasgalan.

Their greatest worry was for their Prince who teetered on the fine line between life and death.

"Nana!" He called out. He tried to part the mist with his hands, but it swirled about him teasingly, refusing to give way.

"Nana!" The childish cry echoed in the gray mist, as the Prince began to frantically search through the heavy fog.

Orcs stood over his mother.... Blood slowly soaked into the ground... Her wide eyes stared, transfixed upon his face...

"So good that your best friend died when on watch with you?..."

They never let him forget what had happened.

There were a few times when Aragorn would walk in to check on Legolas, only to find him curled in a tight ball, his hands over his ears trying to shut out the condemning voices.

But the days had slowly passed, and he slowly began to heal, the memories continued to plague his dreams... The hurt refused to leave...

The memories plagued his nights and his days, never letting him forget... Never letting him escape...

A/N: I know this might be a little confusing, but this is actually supposed to be almost like a flashback...

The next morning, or mid-afternoon actually when Legolas awoke, he found himself in a familiar clean white room. But this time his Adar was sitting next to him and not Aragorn.

The blonde haired archer prince blinked sleepily at the woodland King, then gave a bleary smile, his dreams had been filled with memories some happy, but many more sad…

"Hello Ada." He whispered, his voice raspy from the previous day of tears and sorrows.

"Hello my little leaf." Thranduil whispered in return, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from the face. "How are you feeling?"

Legolas yawned. "Tired." He blinked sleepily. "And hungry." He rubbed the rest of the sleep from his eyes.

Thranduil chuckled. "Aragorn just sent over some broth he said he wants you to eat."

Thranduil nodded and reaching over took the lid from a tray revealing steaming broth along with some watered down wine.

He very carefully lifted the bowl of broth on his hand and carefully balancing it lifted the spoon up full of broth.

Obeying, the Prince was surprised to see that his hand was shaking just enough to ensure that he would not be able to hold a spoon without spilling. He scowled at his hand, his attention turned away so he didn't see his father's quickly buried smile.

Heaving a sigh, Legolas allowed his father to carefully spoon-feed him. Blue-gray eyes watched the other elf, wanting to ask a question, but feared the answer.

After the broth was finished, and the wine drunk, Thranduil helped Legolas settle back in the sheets. He fussed over the sheets making sure that they were straightened and smoothed.

Legolas gently reached out and took one of the slender hands in his own, stilling it.

"Ada?" He asked quietly, turning trusting eyes upon the blonde haired figure before him.

"Yes?" Thranduil gently coaxed, he had a feeling he knew what his son was about to ask, but hoped it wasn't it.

Despite himself, and the gravity of the situation, Thranduil smiled. "Oh Legolas." He brushed an errant strand of blonde hair away. "When your Naneth came to me and told me that she was expecting you, I must admit I was very surprised. I didn't realize that she had wanted a child and I must admit that I didn't want a child then. I was already weighted down with the burdens of the kingdom and I didn't know how I could ever raise a child. But your Naneth knew exactly how I would react when you were born."

He smiled, a far off smile full of memory. "I would often sneak away from my office just to hold for a few moments then sneak back. Your Naneth would have you run errands to me, just so that I would get distracted from my work." He sighed. "As I look back now, I thought you were an accident." He said bluntly. "But now I know that you are a precious gift that your Naneth gave to me." He searched the blue-gray eyes carefully.

"You are far more precious to me than any silver, mithril or gold in the entire Middle Earth." Thranduil said softly. "And I am ashamed to say that it has taken me most of your life for me to finally realize that."

Tears welled up in the gray-blue eyes as Legolas gave his Ada a trembling smile. "So I am no accident."

Leaning forward in a gesture from childhood, Legolas touched his forehead against his Adar's in a deed of absolute trust, allowing his Adar to see within the very depths of his soul.

There, Thranduil could see the absolute trust and the unconditional love within his son.

He had never asked for such a gift, yet here it was. Staring him in the face, asking, pleading, begging to be accepted and returned.

Gently removing his hand from his son's, he laid it against the side of the fair face before him. Identical eyes stared at each other, as Thranduil processed the joy of the knowledge that his son did indeed love him.

Legolas blushed, red staining the white pallor of his cheeks. He looked downward as thoughts plagued him. Funny, he had always wanted to hear those words of pride and love, but now that he had heard them, he wanted to know why his Ada loved him, what made him so worthy of his Adar's love and pride?

Thranduil smiled as he lifted his son's chin up so that they were once more eye-to-eye.

"Do you think that I would hate you for living when your mother died? The king asked softly, mistaking the look downward for shame."No." The Prince shook his head. "I was afraid you might hate me for not protecting her."

"Legolas." Thranduil said quietly, drawing his son's full attention back to him. "You were barely old enough to even hold a sword let alone have the full training. The guards were all shocked that you killed them all and didn't receive hardly a scratch."

"But if I would have just done something sooner…" Legolas' trailed off helplessly.

"Legolas" Thranduil lifted his son's chin with his thumb and forefinger. "What would have happened if you had listened to your Naneth and run when she had told you."

"I would have gotten back to the guards and told them where Nana was and they would have come and saved her." Legolas replied steadily.

"The orcs would most likely have followed you and already easily outnumbering the guards they would have probably killed all the guards." Thranduil painted a different scenario. "Then they would have killed you as well, I would have lost not only my wife, my guards but my only son and heir." He smiled sadly.

"There is no certain way what happened that day would have turned out any different Legolas." Thranduil continued. "You did your very best that day, and I am so very proud of you for doing so."

With a shuddering sob, Legolas fell forward into his Adar's strong embrace, finally coming to grips with that one horrific day that tore his Nana from him.

It was a few hours later when Aragorn finally felt he had given the King and Prince enough time to reconcile.

Legolas had his head pillowed on his Adar's lap; his eyelids half closed in a manner telling the healer in Aragorn that the elf was healing, but not quite healed.

Thranduil was leaning back against the headboard; his eyes were glazed signifying that he was fully asleep as well. One hand rested upon Legolas' head and the other held his hand.

It was a perfect picture of simple trust, love and affection between father and son, and Aragorn knew in that instant that they had reconciled. He knew that there were many things that would take days, months and even years to fully heal, but he also knew that the two were well on their way.

With a smile on his lips, the King of Gondor exited, leaving the father and son to rest and fully heal.

As the sun slowly sank beneath a pink dusted sky two elves stood at the very edge of top level of Minas Tirith. Neither had any fear of the dizzying height and stood very close to the edge.

The older elf wrapped his arms around the younger, resting his head against the gold hair. "I think she can."

As the wind swept the long blonde hair into disarray, the young elf could almost imagine her laughter and her warm embrace gently enfolding him and his Ada.

Suddenly the world seemed a little brighter and life was no longer something to live through, but to live in.

He grinned broadly, then closed his eyes, lifting his hands up to enfold his Ada's.

For the first time in many, many years he was once more happily within the warm protecting embrace of his loving Adar, and knew at last, that his Adar did indeed love him.

"Ada can you read me a story?" The tiny blonde haired elfling bounced eagerly on the balls of his feet.

Thranduil could not help but smile at his only son and heir, his pride and joy. "And what story would you like me to read?" He asked in return.

"When Grandada lead the charge against…" Legolas started in a rush, but was stopped by a single raised hand.

"How about when your Grandada was just a little elfling just you are now?" Thranduil suggested smoothly.

The blonde haired head nodded eagerly and scrambled to sit on his Ada's lap, his legs between his Ada's and his hands already playing Ada's hands.

"Just like you." Thranduil agreed. "He had lots of friends and liked to play with them everyday." He waited for an outburst from his son, but Legolas just settled himself down content to just listen.

"But one day, he was a very naughty elfling and he went outside without his Ada or Nana or anyone else." Thranduil continued. "He got lost in the big forest and he was all alone and couldn't find his way home."

He continued to weave his tale together, not only telling a story but also instilling hopefully a lesson in his son's heart. Not to go outside without a parent or guardian.

He held the little elflings attention easily as he spoke, the words flowing together smoothly as he pieced together a story about his own Ada.

Neither realized that another was listening to the story as well. The Queen of Mirkwood stood by the doorway, watching her two 'boys' as she affectionately called them.

There were many times that she knew that her husband didn't know how to handle Legolas, but she also knew that Legolas held a special place in his Adar's heart where not even she could pry.

Legolas would do anything for his Adar, Thranduil only had to ask, and sure enough it was vice versa as well.

With a smile upon her fair lips she quietly closed the door and continued on her way, knowing in the depths of her heart that no matter what if one fell, the other would be there to pick the other up,

Thranduil smiled, Legolas had yet to know what being immortal meant, but until then… "No." He replied softly. "I'll love you until the day that I die."

"You hold the answers deep within your own mind.
Consciously, you've forgotten it.
That's the way the human mind works.
Whenever something is too unpleasant, to shameful for us
to entertain, we reject it.
We erase it from our memories.
But the imprint is always there."

(Can't wash it all away)
(Can't wish it all away)
(Can't hope it all away)
(Can't cry it all away)

The pain that grips you
The fear that binds you
Releases life in me
In our mutual
Shame we hide our eyes
To blind them from the truth
That finds a way from who we are
Please don't be afraid
When the darkness fades away
The dawn will break the silence
Screaming in our hearts
My love for you still grows
This I do for you
Before I try to fight the truth my final time

"We're supposed to try and be real.
And I feel alone, and we're not together. And that is real."

Can't wash it all away
Can't wish it all away
Can't cry it all away
Can't scratch it all away

Lying beside you
Listening to you breathe
The life that flows inside of you
Burns inside of me
Hold and speak to me
Of love without a sound
Tell me you will live through this
And I will die for you
Cast me not away
Say you'll be with me
For I know I cannot
Bear it all alone

Can't wash it all away
Can't wish it all away
Can't cry it all away
Can't scratch it all away

"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."

A/N: Thanks to all who have read and reviewed! I will be back with thanks for everyone who reviewed, comments on the story and ect:-) And perhaps a sneak peak of a new fic!

Most of the time when I write a fic, I am usually dealing with many of the things in the fic. When I wrote the first chapter, I had just gotten in an argument with my own Adar and was feeling the aftermath of it. The pain of arguing and the anger over arguing, though it wasn’t as harsh as Legolas and Thranduil arguing, the one sentence...

The words were like a cold knife to Legolas’ heart. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

Was what I felt personally as well as the “You cannot win his love.” I was in a very morbid mood when I wrote that and even now I can still feel the pain that I felt. It was a heartbreaking chapter that is still very personal.

If you noticed something familiar about the whole “You’re my child!” It was taken from the Patriot starring Mel Gibson and Heath Ledger and a whole ton of awesome actors.

The words “If only, if only..” I think are a part of everyday life. If only I would have done this then that wouldn’t have happened. If only I would have gone here instead of there. If only I would have made a left turn instead of a right. I wanted to portray the helplessness and the wish that if only he had done something, something different would have happened. In his mind only though.

Many times I think even surrounded by our closest friends and family, we can still feel so utterly alone. Though Thranduil had his son by his side, he still felt so alone. I often wonder what it would be like, to be married for so many years then to loose your partner, to have to relearn to sleep alone in bed? To look for your loved one and not find them? I cannot even imagine it and the simple thought fills me with a sort of sadness and a hope that that is something I will never have to face.

A few people wanted to know why Legolas wanted to escape and well it might just be me, but I find that I hate confrontations and the later the better. Though often it hasn’t worked that way. :-P

I have found that often I can be going through several mental and emotional pain and no one else will know it. I kind of wanted to show that Thranduil was oblivious to many of his son’s pains not because he turned a blind eye, but because Legolas hid most of it from him.

I have always felt that Faramir was somehow mistreated by Denethor and for this fic I was shocked to realize that there was a possibility of using my two favorite characters at last:-)

I think the realization that Legolas didn’t actually kill his mother was heartbreaking, even though I wrote it. A few were half afraid that Legolas did kill his mother out of pity and her suffering too much. But no that wasn’t the case. You can feel like you killed someone without laying a finger on them.

Ok shocker here. This wasn’t a part of the original piece, that I wrote. This actually came from a question from LAXgirl ( I still can’t believe she reviewed me:-) She wanted me to sort of clarify about Legolas getting wounded and such.

I changed this around a bit from the first draft, but not much. The whole accident part wasn’t in there and I felt the other piece I had in there was just a little too cheesy.

I have always loved the song “Holes in the Floor of Heaven.” It’s a country song but I can’t remember the artists name. The one line goes. “Cause there’s holes in the floor of heaven and her tears are pouring down. That’s how I know she’s watching wishing she could be here now.” Thought I didn’t have the rain, I hope the sunshine, the light breeze and the warm embrace helped that along.

The Flashback was the only thing I did not change. I loved it from the first draft, I only spell checked and switched a word here and there. I have two younger brothers and so I could easily find the ease to write that scene.

The ending “No, I’ll love you until the day I die.” Is actually taken from the Swan Princess also at the very end when Derek (finally!) proclaims his love for Odette. Those lines stuck in my head and though my story has father and son, not true love with true love I found that it still worked.

Numb by Linkin Park Easier to Run by Linkin Park Hello by Evanescence Bring me to life by Evanescence My Immortal by Evanescence Return of the King Soundtrack

Thank you to all who have read and to all who have also reviewed. While I won’t get all your names here please know that I thank you from the deepest part of my heart.

Special Thanks to Sparrow Greenleaf and Blaise for helping me writing and inspiring me along the way.

And here is a possible sneak peak for a new LOTR fic... Let me know what you think!

As the ship slowly neared the shore, elves rushed down to the sandy beach to see who had at last arrived. Legolas Thranduillion and his friend Gimli had arrived nearly five hundred years earlier and all where curious to see who had come.

Two identical heads appeared and a cry of gladness arose. The Sons of the Elrond had at last come home.

After many hugs and tears they had settled down and were asked many questions about Middle Earth. It took them nearly a week before they were allowed to ask questions themselves. And their chief question was:

Yes it is a Character death, something that I never thought I would do, but I will be writing and if you want sneak peaks along the way just add me to your Yahoo! Or MSN messenger and I will be happy to give you some:-) Until then!

I Might Fall by LOTRFaith