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

Disclaimer: Own nothing of Lord of the Rings, Peter Jackson, J.R.R. Tolkien, any of the characters or actors playing the characters.

PG 13 - Character Death. Angst. Violence.

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Elladan sighed, looking over the ship that was soothingly rocking in tune with the waves gently crashing against the dock. He and his twin brother were the only elves left in Middle Earth.

Legolas had finally departed with Gimli nearly five hundred years before them, but they had felt the call to stay for a bit longer.

Legolas had accepted their decision and had only wished them well. He had tucked the letters from them to their parent’s into his tunic, gave each an affectionate hug and a sad smile, then climbed aboard his ship and set sail.

Life had been hard for the Elven Prince in the years before he had left. So many of his friends had died not of battle wounds but of old age. Each had died peacefully with Legolas looking on, wondering why and not the first nor the last time what a cruel fate it was for him. He had watched the fellowship joined together, watched it break apart, regroup with many more than nine companions then over the years watched it break apart again, to meet where Elves rarely went. The Halls of Mandos.

Merry had been laid to rest next to Eomer in Rohan, while Pippin had been laid to rest next to Faramir, each as their allegiance had been during the great war of the Ring. Now but a dusty chapter in a long forgotten book. Eowyn had also died and was laid to rest near her husband, the faithful Steward of Gondor. Lothiriel, Eomer’s wife had also passed and soon Legolas had found himself surrounded by his closet’s friend’s children.

Each death had brought the grieving elf ever closer to the edge of despair, and Elladan and Elrohir both knew that only Gimli’s life had kept Legolas from death after Aragorn’s own death.

Legolas had wept bitter tears over the news of Arwen’s death and indeed the twin son’s of Elrond had worried that even Gimli would not be able to keep the Prince alive for much longer.

It took little pressure to convince Legolas to sail and take Gimli with him.

Elladan and Elrohir both hoped that the haunted look in the Elven Prince’s eyes would soon disappear in the Valinor.

They had stayed in Middle Earth until they could hear their names being called in the gentle but often violently wind swept sea.

Taking on last stroll in the mighty city of Minas Tirith they were comforted by the fact that several children were flocked around a minstrel who was telling the glorious tale of The Fellowship of the Ring and how they won the war against Sauron.

The names of Frodo, Samwise, Aragorn, Gandalf, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, Merry and Pippin were each known by the children who gasped in all the right places even though they had heard the tale countless times.

Elladan and Elrohir had stayed hidden against the side of a building listening to the story and once finished they watched with gentle smiles as the children fought over who could be one of the fellowship and who would be the Orcs and Nazgul.

Elladan and Elrohir had watched with a sort of sadness but knowing that if the tale lived in the hearts of children, then the humans would forever be immortal in the minds of children who wanted to be them.

Their ship built and ready for the journey they cast one last long look at the place that had been their home for countless years, they stepped onto the ship and without another look backwards, they sailed for the Valinor.

Though they would never remember how long the journey took them, they would always remember the loud outcry of joy when they peered over the edge to see a vast amount of friends and family.

And at last they were reunited with their long departed Naneth.

Thranduil was there along with his three elder sons, but not Legolas or Gimli for that fact. Too busy answering questions and receiving hugs their own question was lost for nearly a week as their Ada was extracting every little bit of information from them that was possible.

When at last they raised their question, they were met with a sad smile. Half horrified the twins began to ask a flurry of questions but were stopped when a knock was heard.

Quieting they waited to see who was at the door. It was Lomion and Thalion, both had been sent over by their Adar who knew that the twins would want to know where his youngest son was.

They were cordially greeted by Elrond and then by the twins. Once seated around the comforting warmth of the fire, and with a nod between the two Thranduillion’s Lomion began his tale.

“It all started about four hundred and fifty years ago.” The elder of the two Thranduillion’s began. “Everyone connected with Gimli started to notice that he could not move as he used to and his jibs at Legolas were getting slower and slower.”

---Flashback---

“Gimli? Are you awake?” The fair-haired elf questioned quietly in the stillness one night.

A snore answered him.

Biting his lip, Legolas carefully stood up and eased his way to Gimli’s bed. He and Gimli both stayed with his parents because of the simple fact that Legolas was not married and didn’t want to have his own household anytime soon.

Kneeling down next to the still figure, Legolas studied his friend. There were more lines on that care worn face... More gray hairs in the still full beard and hair... There was a slowness in his movements that weren’t there a decade ago... And in the darkness Legolas could not help but feel afraid.

Frodo, Sam and Bilbo had all died before he had made it to the Valinor. Frodo, bless his small heart had at last found his peace in the stillness and calm of the Valinor and had died with his faithful friend, guardian and gardener by his side. Sam had died only a few hours later. Bilbo had managed to outlive the both of them, living almost two months after their deaths. But he had died in the end as well.

He still grieved for them, Legolas supposed. Their deaths had come as a surprise to him. He had thought that once in the Valinor the hobbits would become immortal like an elf, but it was not to be.

The deaths of the three hobbits had awoken a silent fear in the depths of his heart that if the hobbits could die in the Valinor, then a single dwarf could also die as well. And then the Elven Prince would truly be the last of the Fellowship.

Suddenly unable to bear the thought of Gimli leaving him, Legolas fled from the room into the cool night air outside.

The stars twinkled merrily at him, but Legolas felt no gladness rise up within him like usual. They reminded him too much of when....

He turned away violently from the thoughts of his friends whispering their farewells to him.

Everything haunted him now, with the memory of what had been. The stars shone as brightly as when the Three Hunters made their trek across the plains to rescue two young hobbits. The whisper in the trees lulled him as gently as they had when the Fellowship had passed into Lothlorien, tired and heart sore with grief over Gandalf’s death. The gently caress of the wind was the same as it had been on the very top of Minas Tirith as Aragorn had been crowned King Elessar. The ground still felt the same as when he walked forward to the Black Gate leading into the very heart of Mordor.

Every touch reminded him of what had been, and what could never be again. At least for him anyway. The Fellowship was almost reunited in the Halls of Mandos, all but Gimli and him. And he would never be allowed in the Halls of Mandos now that he was in the Valinor. Though an elf could die, it would be a very rare thing indeed.

He knew his parents, siblings and friends all tried to understand for him, and though he appreciated the effort he knew that they would never understand the depths of his silent pain.

“Ion?”

The younger elf started out of his thoughts at the sudden voice. “Yes Nana?” He replied quietly.

Lalaith hesitated not knowing what to say to ease her son’s pain, but wanting to be by her son to help at least to try and understand some of it. “What burdens your heart so?” She asked wrapping her arms around his slender frame in a quick, but warm embrace.

“Sometimes I wish I had never met Aragorn.” Legolas said softly. “That I had never met the hobbits, Gimli, Boromir, Faramir, Eomer, Eowyn.” His voice trailed off as he stared into a distant memory. “But then I know that I would never had lived as I had in Middle Earth. My friends close beside me, always there to help pick me up when I fell, friends who would easily take a sword or arrow for me. Friends who would willingly give their lives just to save me.” He sighed. “I always knew that they would die, but I don’t think I realized what death was until they started to leave me.” His voice cracked.

I never hated death, until they started die. I hated the fact that they could go somewhere I couldn’t.” He choked on his words. He pressed his palms of his hands to his eyes, trying to rub the sudden headache away.

“Oh Legolas.” Lalaith soothed, she really didn’t know what to say. Her experience with men had not been as her son’s had been. Personally she thought them weak and filled with greed, but wisely choose to say nothing. She supposed that she actually should be grateful that Legolas had had so many good friends surround him, but she could not help but feel angry that her son had chosen such friends. Mortals, men doomed to die and that had left her youngest child in agony over their deaths.

And then there was Gimli, son of Gloin. A dwarf, who happened to be living in the same household as her. She still even after fifty years did not really know what to think of the friendship between her son and the dwarf. It was warm and affectionate and at the same time very bold often rude and the names they called each other!

There were a few times when grandchildren had come over and she had felt the need to place her hands over their ears so that the words spoken during their ‘arguments’ wouldn’t be heard.

She had once complained to Thranduil about their frequent arguments, but he had simply replied that it was certainly better than tears. Which was very true, but still!

“What will I do when he dies?” Legolas whispered. He turned haunted eyes, full of memories of his friends dying.

“You will remember them.” Lalaith offered. “You will keep them immortal by your memories of them. In your mind they will always live. And once you are married and have children, you will pass their stories on to them and then they will tell their children and in doing so, your friends are every bit as immortal as we are.” She gently smiled at him.

His head dipped slightly to show that he had heard her words and accepted them. After a few moments of tranquil silence he looked at her with tears in the gray-blue eyes so like his Adar’s.

“But.” He whispered quietly, sadly. “They will still die in my dreams.” He gave a wan smile to his Naneth, then turned and silently went back inside.

Lalaith stared up at the stars as if wondering why the Valar had put such hardships in front of her youngest son that he still had yet to face. His life had already been filled with pain and hardship so why, here in the peace of Valinor, the haven for Elves, did he have still face turmoil?

Though she knew if Gimli had not sailed with Legolas, Valar only know why they allowed him to enter, Legolas might have given into the grief and pain of his tender heart and faded, she could not help but feel a little twinge of anger at the dwarf. Even though she knew that the dwarf could not help being mortal than she immortal, she often wished that Gimli had died in Middle Earth, then perhaps Legolas could have found his peace and safe-haven at last.

She shook her head. She wasn’t being reasonable at all.

“Lalaith?” A soft voice from the doorway called.

“I’m right here Thranduil.” She called back quietly.

“What are you doing out here so late at night?” He greeted her by wrapping his arms around her slender frame.

She sighed, leaning into his warm embrace. “Legolas was just out here.”

“I know.” Thranduil nodded. “I saw him sneak back into his room with Gimli.”

“My heart aches for him.” She whispered.

She felt rather than heard his heaved sigh. She knew that her husband had a special connection with Legolas because of her departure to the Valinor when he had still been but an elfling.

“What will happen to Legolas if Gimli dies?” Lalaith questioned. “Can he fade here in the Valinor? Will the Valar allow him to go to the Halls of Mandos?”

“I don’t know.” Thranduil replied honestly.

“You remember how he was when arrived here.” Lalaith continued.

“Yes.” Thranduil said simply. “I remember.” He gave a pained sigh. “How could I ever forget?”

He would always remember the grief and weariness upon his son’s pale face. The tears he had shed not only in happiness at last arriving with the peace of the Valinor and reuniting with his family, but also of bitterness, that now he would never be close to his friends.

‘At least.’ He confided to Lomion one night. ‘In Middle Earth their bodies were still there and that would be the closest that he would ever be able to be by their side again.’

Lomion had in turn told Thranduil of the words and had hoped in due time that the shadows would flee from his little brother’s eyes.

But it hadn’t. It seemed to only grow.

Thranduil sighed. “I will talk to him tomorrow.”

“Gimli?” Legolas called out to the smaller being. “Awake!” He cried as gaily as he could. “The sun has already risen!”

He easily swung his legs over the side of his bed and began to unlace his shirt. His quick movements stopped when he noticed Gimli’s silence.

“Gimli?”

It took him a few seconds to realize that there was no rise and fall of Gimli’s chest, that the usual snores were silent.

“Gimli?” There was fear in the voice.

Two quick steps brought the lithe elf to the dwarf’s bedside.

“Gimli?” He shook the figure.

There was no response.

Legolas began to shake.

“Gimli?” He whispered.

His hand slowly reached out and touched the dwarf’s still, peaceful face. Tears slowly began to well up in the blue-gray eyes.

He sank to the floor. Even resting on his knees, the bed was low enough for Legolas to clearly see Gimli’s face.

“Gimli?” He questioned again, his voice choking with tears.

There was still no response. No movement. Nothing.

With a sob, Legolas flung his arms around the small still figure. “Gimli!” He cried. “Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me alone! Please Gimli. Don’t leave.”

Footsteps sounded outside the door but Legolas paid no attention. “Please Valar!” He cried. “Don’t take him from me!”

A hand was gently placed on his shoulder. “Come Legolas.” The low melodious voice sounded in his ear. “He is gone.”

“No!” Legolas wailed in agony. “He can’t be! I didn’t even say goodbye to him.” He sobbed.

His arms were gently pried from the small, still figure.

“No!” Legolas shouted, his grief taking a hold on him and replacing it with anger. “I will not leave him!”

“Legolas!” A voice shouted. “He is dead!”

“”No!” Legolas yelled. “He’s just sleeping!” He fought the hands pulling him away. “He’s just sleeping!”

“Legolas! Stop it! Stop it!”

They were dragging him away from Gimli. “No!” Legolas pushed the hands away. “I promised I would stay!”

Something pressed against his face.

“No.” He wheezed through the cloth. “I promised.... I... would....” His eyes rolled back and his world went black.

The tall dark haired elf sighed. He had come to know Legolas like another son in their times together back on Middle Earth and to know that the young elf was going though such tormented agony was nothing less than painful to himself.

“Has he woken up yet?” He asked softly.

Thranduil looked pained at the question. He had hated the very sight of the drug that Elrond had given him a few years previously. But the very hysteria that Legolas had flung himself into had been nothing less than terrifying. He had quickly told Lalaith to douse a cloth with the drug and with his own two hands had placed it over his youngest son’s nose.

And had watched with tears in his own eyes and a pang in his heart as his son slowly slipped into oblivion.

“No.” Thranduil replied simply. He had quickly summoned his other children as well as Elrond as soon as he was able, hoping that if Legolas was surrounded by the ones who loved him it might help him emotionally.

“Quite frankly.” Thranduil continued. “I don’t know what to do with him when he does wake up.” He saw the other elf look at him curiously out of the corner of his eye. “Will he fade after this? Or will he regain his hold on life and continue to live?” He sighed, shaking his head. “I lost him once when I departed before he did.” He paused. “I don’t know if I can do that again, and this time being forever.”

Elrond laid a compassionate hand upon his friend’s shoulder. He knew how the Elven king felt. He had left his three children in Middle Earth. His daughter would remain there forever. His twin sons he had no idea about. Their parting had been silent. They didn’t whisper a word telling if they would someday leave Middle Earth or stay, leaving their father to wonder nearly every day what would happen to them.

“When the time comes.” He offered quietly. “You will know what to do.”

“But what.” Thranduil’s brow furrowed in thought. “If he needs to be set free, but I hold him back? Or the opposite?”

Elrond laughed softly.

Thranduil turned toward him curiously.

“Isn’t it amazing.” Elrond began. “That even after so many years of being parents we are still stumped on what to do when something happens.” He smiled at the Elven King. “You will know what to do. Trust me.”

Thranduil slowly nodded, accepting his friend’s words.

“Thranduil?”

The two males turned at the feminine voice.

“Yes Lalaith?”

In the few hours that had transpired since Gimli’s death, Lalaith had seemed to age. There were bags under her eyes and she seemed tired.

“Gimli is prepared.” She said simply. She had decided that it would be her job to prepare her son’s best friend’s body. Even though there were many times that Lalaith and Gimli had not gotten along, there had been a mutual respect between the two, mainly for Legolas’ sake.

She sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. “Is Lomion still sitting with Legolas?” She questioned tiredly.

“Yes.” Thranduil replied.

“He should be waking soon.” Elrond reassured.

“What will he be like when he wakes up?” Lalaith inquired. “Will he be the same as this morning? Or will he be calmer.”

“I quite frankly don’t know.” Elrond replied honestly. “That particular drug happened to be one that I usually used on my patients who were in need of surgery immediately.” He paused thinking on all the patients he had had in Middle Earth. “They woke up fine, perhaps a little groggy and a little confused about their surroundings, but other than that.” He shrugged.

“Adar!” Lomion’s call quickly brought Lalaith to her feet and the other two elves hurrying towards the door.

His heart pounding furiously, Thranduil jerked the door to Legolas’ room open.

And stopped in his tracks.

‘He looked like a wraith.’ Was Thranduil’s first thought. His son’s usually fair face was sheet white, the listless gray-blue eyes standing out startling against lack of color.

His head was pillowed in Lomion’s lap, while he stared blankly ahead, lost in a distant memory or just trying to erase the memories.

Lomion’s fingers gently combed out his golden hair, but Legolas gave no indication that he even felt the soothing motion.

Thranduil carefully eased to his knees and gently took his youngest son’s limp hand in his. “Legolas?” He called softly.

“He’s dead Ada.” Legolas said listlessly, startling his father and the elves around him. “He’s dead.”

“I know.” Thranduil said helplessly. “I know.”

Legolas gave a small sigh. “I’m tired Ada.” He said quietly, blinking sleepily against the pale light filtering in through the high window. “Can I sleep?”

Thranduil threw a helpless look towards Elrond, who nodded.

“Yes my little leaf, you can sleep.” Thranduil whispered, pressing a familiar kiss to his son’s forehead.

Legolas gave a winsome but wan smile then let his eyes close and fell asleep.

Disclaimer: Own nothing of Lord of the Rings, any characters or descriptions. Own nothing of New Line Cinema or any affiliates. This is for writting and reading enjoyment purposes only.

Many elves had come to witness the burial of the dwarf, but Legolas was oblivious to all but his friend’s grave and the stone casket that Gimli himself had carved.

He had lied to Legolas and had told him it was a box for his armor. Only after Gimli died did Lalaith find the note containing the burial rites of dwarves.

He stood as still as the stone covering his friend’s body was carefully laid into the ground. No movement marked his sorrow, but everyone could see that his grief was insurmountable. His face was composed, but his eyes gave him away.

The haunted expression told of memories of his other friend’s deaths and burials. Memories of the different traditions of burial rites, memories of wives crying, but knowing that they would soon join their husbands, memories of his friends dying, one by one and now he was truly the last of the Fellowship alive.

His mind refused to register what people said to him or if they gave him an affectionate touch or a warm embrace, he was too numb to respond.

After all the Elves had left, Thranduil gently shook his son’s shoulder. “Come Legolas, let’s go home.”

Legolas blinked as if waking suddenly. “Not yet.” He whispered so low that Thranduil had to bend down to catch the softly spoken words.

Legolas gently disengaged his arm from his Adar’s strong grip and walked heavily to the grave and sank to his knees. His fingers traced the runes declaring to all that Gimli, son of Gloin, friend of Legolas Thranduillion, one of the nine walkers would forever rest in the peace of Valinor, a safe heaven for elves.

Not bothering to wipe away the tears slowly trickling down his face, Legolas quietly began to lift his voice in a song telling of when they had first met. As his voice gently twisted the journey of two friends together, the wind quieted and even the sun seemed to dim in reverence of the elf’s pain.

He sang of when his friends died and how at last the two friends departed to the Valinor, then finally his voice choking, he sang of Gimli’s death and how he would celebrate his life.

Once finished, Thranduil could tell he was drained, emotionally and physically. Tears still ran freely down his son’s face even though his eyes were closed.

Quietly sinking beside his son, Thranduil reached out and pulled him into an embrace.

Though Legolas made no gesture that he was even aware of the embrace, the very fact that he slightly leaned into the embrace comforted his Adar.

Legolas gave a small nod against his Adar’s shoulder, silently agreeing to leave. His legs, asleep after sitting on them for nearly two hours buckled underneath him when he tried to stand.

Without a single word, Thranduil swept Legolas up into his arm and carried him the few hundred yards back to their quarters.

It pained him to see his once proud, strong son lie unperturbed in his arms. Even when he had been a small child he protested against being carried unless absolutely necessary or extremely tired.

Even after he had been captured by the Easterlings and returned and had lain so helplessly for a while he had never let himself be carried without protesting.

But now, weakened emotionally and that wreaking havoc on his body he was also being weakened physically.

It seemed that his youngest son had not the will to live anymore and was letting himself slowly sink into a state where he could no longer be reached. His gaze was empty, often staring at a wall or into a distant memory.

For nearly a week everyone feared that the prince would die, but he clung to life as weak as a newborn babe. His most basic needs were taken care of by others. His hair washed and braided everyday by his Naneth. His body cleansed everyday by his Ada. He was often cradled by one of his brothers or sisters in law, lullabies gently sang to him.

No one knew what do to, and no one dared to try and force him from his grief. They all let him cry his tears of pain.

It was one the eighth day that Legolas suddenly blinked as if waking from a deep sleep.

“He is in the sitting room talking with Lord Elrond.” Thalion replied. He was sitting in a near by chair, making no fuss over Legolas’ awakening, in fact he causally marked the page in the book he was reading. And then continued to speak.

Legolas sighed. “I’m glad.” He said simply. “I don’t like being alone.”

A few more moments of silence reigned, and Thalion giving his youngest brother a comforting smile, returned to his book.

“Will the pain ever fade?” The young prince asked quietly, staring up into the face of his older, but not oldest brother.

“You know.” Thalion made himself comfortable on the chair, marking the page once more and closing it with his finger in place. “I asked Adar that when Naneth departed.” He smiled wistfully. “I was heartbroken. Naneth and I were like you and Adar. We were a lot alike, so we knew how the other felt. But anyway, I asked Adar that question and this is what he told me.” Thalion leaned forward making sure that Legolas’ eyes were upon his.

“It is up to you to decide wither the pain will fade or not. As elves our memories span across time itself and they remain crystal clear, but we do have a choice on what memories to remember.” Thalion rubbed Legolas’ hand reassuringly. “Instead of remembering their deaths, remember their lives. Remember the first day you met Aragorn and your adventures together. Remember meeting the Fellowship and being joined together, no matter the race. Don’t remember their farewells, but remember their greetings.”

Legolas sighed Thalion’s words were almost exactly replica of their Naneth’s words to him. “What if my mind is filled with their deaths though?” He asked hollowly.

“Then.” Thalion leaned back. “You talk about them. Tell someone of their dreams they lived to see happen. Tell someone about what it felt like in Minas Tirith when Aragorn was crowned king. Tell someone what it felt like when you rode with the armies of Rohan and Gondor to the black gates leading to Mordor. Do not keep those memories inside of you.” He pleaded. “Tell them to the children so that they might also remember with you. Let them share your memories and thus keep your friends alive.”

Legolas listened quietly to the entreaty, making no gesture showing that he was taking the words to heart, but Thalion could easily see that his words made an impact upon his brother’s heart.

A few more moments of silence reigned. “I’ll go get Adar.” Thalion said finally. “He will be pleased to hear you have woken.”

He pressed a soothing hand upon Legolas’ shoulder, then quietly left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Frowning, Legolas pushed himself up and leaned back, his back pressing against the wall for support. He was rather surprised to find himself so weak, but then again he had drifted away from reality for how long? A week? A month?

Leaning his head back, he stared up at the ceiling, watching the dust motes dance gaily in the bright sunlight. It was probably around mid-afternoon or later, he guessed.

Bringing his head up and around his eyes met those of his Adar’s. “Ada.” Legolas acknowledged with a small smile.

Thranduil swept Legolas into a heartfelt embrace. “Oh my little leaf.” He whispered into his youngest ear. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

Wrapping his own arms around his Adar’s strong frame, Legolas sighed, letting the tension slowly ease from his own slight frame. How he loved being in his Adar’s arms. Here everything was all right in the world. There was no pain. No hurt. No sorrow.

He said nothing, content to stay comfortably in the warmth of the embrace. After a while, he pulled back.

“Please don’t ask me why either.” The young elf gave a wan smile. His gray-blue eyes met the ones above him.

Thranduil kept silent, wanting to ask, but knowing he would be better off holding it back. Instead he simply nodded. “When do you leave?” He asked quietly.

“Don’t you think you had better regain your strength first?” Thranduil asked, his lips quirking up amused.

Red stained the still white face. “Perhaps in a few days.” He said, with a slow smile.

The next two nights passed easily, no nightmares woke the young Prince from his slumber and life seemed to go on, except for the void that had been filled with Gimli’s laughter and jibs.

On the third day since his awakening, Legolas packed a few extra clothes, stored away some lembas and dried fruit, slung the pack around his shoulders, and with a farewell kiss to his parents set off.

He did not know where he was going, but all he knew was that he had to get away.

He took a deep breath and started forward, letting his love for adventure take him as it’s wont. He had not felt as he had in a very long time and it was a feeling met with a bitter sweetness. It was a feeling of wanting to disappear from the world, wanting to let the trees sooth away his pain as he grieved.

He had disappeared in Middle Earth when one of his friends had passed as well. Fleeing from civilization for a few weeks, not telling anyone where he would go, only taking some spare clothes, lemabs and dried fruit. He would always come back and no one the wiser that he had spent the last few weeks near the edge of fading.

Aragorn had guessed his inner turmoil and quietly conferring with his steward and wife, asked Gimli to keep an eye out for him. Only after Arwen had left did Gimli break his vow of silence and demand that Legolas take him along when he disappeared from the world.

Legolas had laughed through his tears, remembering all the times when the former ranger had always felt the need to protect him from whatever danger, Wither it be from attacking orcs or fading from grief, he always had kept an eye out for his elven friend.

But now, even Aragorn couldn’t help his friend. But since he was in the Valinor, he couldn’t fade from grief, but he would still have it in his heart.

He took a deep breath of the fresh air. He had traveled far this day, his long legs taking him wherever they chose to go. They had decided to take him to a large forest with mountains to the north and east of it, reminding him a lot of his birthplace in Middle Earth.

As he traveled through the great forest he felt a sense of calm steal over his soul. The trees whispered to him their reassurance and comfort to him as their leaves gently danced with the gentle breeze.

After a full day and night in the forest he left, heading towards the mountains. Though he had not told anyone, he had a single purpose on this trip. Not to grieve, he had already done that, but to find a spot to have a memorial of his friends back on Middle Earth and his mortal friends that had died in the Valinor.

He was looking for a spot that only he would know of the location. And the only place he could think of was a cave. Though he hated caves with a passion, that was the most secretive place he could think of. Now he had only to find one deep enough.

He spent the next two days searching along the mountains for a cave and finally found one of the close of the second day. Lighting a fire and making himself a torch that would burn for a long period of time, he entered the cave.

It was wet, as all caves seem to be. There was a dank, stale smell that made the elf wrinkle his nose, but continued to press on. He knew exactly what he was looking for and only hoped that this cave held it.

He wanted something like the Glittering Caves back on Middle Earth. The sight of the eerie glow far beneath the earth had taken his breath away. It had been a sight to behold and one that Gimli had loved.

Turning around a bend he stepped into a large cavern like the Glittering Caves but after searching around knew that this place was not the place and smothering his torch continued on in the complete darkness.

How far he went he did not know, as time was non-existent in a place such as this.

He could hear scratches of rodents as they scurried along the rock walls, and the ‘drip’ ‘drip’ of the water plopping down from the walls. Letting his keen senses take hold he pressed onward.

The black silence of the cave took him back to that day when Gimli had literally dragged him into the Glittering Cave. But this time the silence was worse, because the noise was not from Gimli walking confidently in front of him, but rather it was his own steps making small echo’s along the rocky path.

Catching his foot on a loose stone, Legolas tripped forward. Unable to catch himself he fell forward. His breath escaped him as his body slammed on the stone pathway. He groaned.

Then had to smile. “Gimli would be laughing about now.” He muttered to himself as he picked himself up, dusting off his clothes.

Looking upward, he suddenly saw a faint light. Curious, yet already half knowing what it was that he found he very carefully picked his way forward, his eyes never leaving the light.

It was almost hidden from view. The cavern walls were almost completely sealed shut save for a small opening near the ground. Crawling in, Legolas had to blink back tears as he accidentally hit his head on the small ‘doorway’. Ruefully rubbing his head he stood and stared.

Suddenly the magnificence of the Glittering Caves died away into a small non-descript cave. The cavern was huge. Easily three times the size of the Glittering cave and nearly three times as bright. It was if he had stepped into a patch of sunlight. The blue colors shone brightly, intermingling with both green and yellow.

His lips curved into a smile. This, this was the place where he would make his memorial. Pulling the pack from his shoulders he dug through the contents and pulled a hammer and chisel from the depths. He had carefully hidden both from any prying eyes.

Searching through the pockets he pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. He knew in his mind exactly what he wanted to do, but the paper was for a single sentence, a quote that Legolas had quickly jotted down after Aragorn had said it.

He sat on his heels and taking a deep breath closed his eyes, mentally preparing for the task ahead. It would be a long and arduous one. One that he would not be able to complete for several years and one that only he would ever be able to ever see.

Opening his eyes, he picked a huge chunk of rock sticking out along the wall and began to chip away.

Thalion graced then with a sad smile. “Legolas should be coming home tonight. It is his custom that every twenty years he will leave for a week or so and then come back. He told Adar that this time he would only be gone for one week, and he actually left a few hours before you arrived.”

Both twins digested the facts. “Has he found an Ellyth yet?” Elrohir asked suddenly.

Lomion shook his head. “He still considers all the ellyth’s his age to be silly and immature, but he did manage to find one. Her name was Kariean, however.”

“She happens to harbor a dislike of men and dwarves.” Lomion smiled grimly at the shocked faces before him. “She was born here in the Valinor and has only known the tales of treachery of both races, but does not realize that even our own race has such treachery within us.”

Lomion chuckled. “The look on Legolas’ face when she told him that was beyond words. He was furious. He told her off in a few short dwarvish words, which left little doubt to what he said. But then she ran off crying to her Adar, who also got upset that his precious daughter was crying and then ordered Legolas to apologize to her. Well Legolas doesn’t take kindly to being ordered around as you know, so he told her Adar off in a few short dwarvish words.”

Lomion grinned, enjoying the tale and knowing that the twins, Lord Elrond and Thalion were as well.

“So her Adar went to the High King, Finarfin and stated a complaint. King Finarfin summoned Legolas and asked him to repeat what had happened and what he had said.” Lomion shook his head. “I still can’t believe that Legolas actually said what he had said.”

“Did he translate the dwarvish?” Elladan asked a grin plastered all over his face.

Thalion laughed. “You bet he did!” He cried out. “He even repeated it twice to make sure that everyone heard it.”

“The king agreed with Legolas that all men and dwarves were not treacherous just as all elves are not treacherous. Then he ruled that Callar, Kariean’s Adar was wrong in coming to him for a trivial matter and had Callar apologize to Legolas.” Lomion laughed.

“And since then Legolas has looked upon the younger female population as silly, immature spoiled snots.” Thalion put in. “Poor Naneth.” He shook his head in mock sympathy. “She despairs of him ever finding a wife.”

The door suddenly burst open, revealing a very ecstatic blonde elf. “Elladan! Elrohir!” He shouted in greeting, jumping over a couch to get to them.

There was confusion as the twins and Legolas collided into each other and gave each other a huge hug, pounding on each other’s backs as they did so.

“When did you get here?” Legolas asked his eyes alight with a passion that had not been there for a long time.

“A few hours before you left I guess.” Elladan replied, dragging the younger elf to sit down next to them on the couch.

“Oh.” Legolas blinking surprised. “Why didn’t someone come after me?” He demanded, turning towards his two older brothers.

Thalion laughed. “You can be so juvenile at times Legolas.” Then laughed again at Legolas’ glare directed towards him. “You didn’t exactly tell us where you were going.”

“Funny.” Legolas taunted, ignoring the pointed cough from his oldest brother to stop their bickering. “I thought you knew how to track.”

“Why you little...” Thalion half raised from his seat, indignation on his face.

“That’s enough.” Lomion grabbed the back on Thalion’s tunic and pulled down making him sit back down.

The twins watched with unveiled amusement and a small hint of sadness. They had often done the same thing when Legolas and Aragorn had erupted into a near fight. Elrohir would grab Legolas’ tunic and Elladan would grab Aragorn’s or vice versa if need be.

“When did you get back?” Elladan attempted to change the subject turning his attention towards the still grinning Legolas.

“About an hour ago.” He replied. “Ada didn’t tell me for a little while then I rushed over.” His words were a little mysterious, but no one in the room cared to press him. Not now. Not with that happy grin on his face and that light radiating from his eyes.

Legolas hesitated. “How is Middle Earth?” He asked carefully, even though everyone knew what he really wanted to ask.

Elrohir smiled. “Middle Earth lives on.” He replied quietly. “Eldarion’s great, great grandchild sits upon the throne of Gondor now. He has dark curly hair and gray eyes.” He answered Legolas’ unasked question.

“He had just recently got married and the last time we visited Minas Tirith, the White City was in the midst of celebration.” Elladan continued. “We were slightly surprised that the King asked that the ceremonies begin with the tale of The Fellowship of the Ring.”

He smiled gently at the young prince beside him. “You were the favorite of all the boys there.” He laughed softly. “They all wanted to be you, but there were a few that decided that the others in the fellowship were worthy enough of getting to ‘be’ them as well.”

He sobered. “Arwen’s grave is still at peace within the depths of Lothlorien. There have been a few mortals who have chosen to dwell among the leafy boughs and the trees have welcomed them.” He looked down for a moment. “Arwen is well protected.” He said softly.

“She is happy.” Legolas said suddenly. “For she is with her only love.” His countenance was saddened. “And that is the only place she could truly be happy.”

“And what of you Legolas?” Elrohir asked quietly. “What is the only place that you will be happy?”

The prince’s face twisted into a grimace, surprising the other elves. “There is no place in the Valinor or in the Halls of Mandos where I will ever be truly happy.” He said abruptly. “The only place I was truly happy was in Middle Earth, surrounded by both my friends and my family.” He shrugged. “But that will never happen.”

Thalion looked curiously at his youngest brother. “What do you mean? A place in the Halls of Mandos?” There was not a small hint of fear in the voice.

Legolas gave them all a mysterious smile, but would not say another word despite their questions.

A curious silence reigned for a while, each elf wondering what Legolas could possibly mean.

Disclaimer: Own nothing of Lord of the Rings, J.R.R Tolkien. New Line Cinema and actors or charaters or places. For reading and writting enjoyment purposes only.

Three days passed since the late night reunion of the two sons of Elrond and the youngest son of Thranduil. The three elves spent whatever time they could together. The twins being careful not to mention anyone or anything back on Middle Earth and Legolas being careful not to mention any of the Fellowship.

Both Elladan and Elrohir tried to pry what secret Legolas had, but neither were able to do so. They had found out that Legolas had not told anyone else either. Which surprised Lomion and Thalion, who both knew that Legolas could keep very little from their Ada. It seemed that Legolas' secret was of somewhat importance judging the way that he would smile mysteriously about it, but refused to say anything.

No matter the questions, Legolas stood firm in his secret, something that secretly scared Thranduil. There were a few things that he as an Adar did not pry onto his son's life, but this was one time that he did try to interfere, but was rebuffed as was the rest of his family and Legolas' friends.

They were all puzzled by Legolas' 'secret' and even more so the fact that he refused to speak to any of them about it. It was highly unusual, so much so that Thranduil called a secret meeting to ask the a few friends what he should do.

His friends had no answer, but to leave the young elf alone and let him in his own time come forward. Though he hated to admit defeat, Thranduil finally agreed to do so and told his sons, daughter and wife to do so as well. Bowing to their Adar's wishes, they acquiesced and left their youngest brother alone.

Legolas said nothing, but was secretly amused at all the fuss, but he knew that there was good reason to fuss, but now was not the time to reveal it.

A year passed. The twins settled down with their Adar and Naneth, but would often-invited Legolas over or vice versa. They had all quit trying to find out what Legolas' secret was, but each often still wondered what it could possibly be.

Life seemed to go for all the Elves, but there were times when Elladan or Elrohir would question the whereabouts of Legolas, but would be met with a shrug. Legolas' family had long learned to let the prince have his own time and space when he needed it.

Everyone knew that Legolas still hurt, but there wasn't much that he would let anyone do. So mutually agreeing to back off, his friends and family strove to ensure that their topic would not land on Middle Earth, the Fellowship or anything else pertaining to Legolas' dead friends.

Though Elladan and Elrohir still carried their own hurts after finally leaving their mortal sister behind forever, they were very careful not to mention anything that would hurt Legolas further. Though an occasional dropped word would bring a grimace not only to Legolas' face, but to the Twins as well.

Life passed slowly for Legolas, for in the years upon Middle Earth after Sauron had at last been defeated, he forced himself to count the days, months and years as a mortal would. He had watched his friends grow old in the span of what he thought was only a blink of an eye. He would often not visit Minas Tirith and the royal family for a few years and then would be shocked at the new lines upon his friend's faces.

So he had learned to count days and months, making sure he visited more often than he usually would. Though the Elves all thought that Legolas visited his mortal friends too often, his mortal friends thought he didn't visit enough.

Torn between both mortal and immortal reasoning, he finally told everyone that he would visit Minas Tirith and Gimli every six months. And so he made himself a calendar and would mark the days gone by and would often find himself counting the days until he would visit his friends.

And now, in the Valinor where time was endless, he found the days dragged by. He told no one that his mindset had changed, and continued to struggle though each day.

"Yes Nin Ion? Thranduil replied vaguely, his attention fixed upon a sheet of paper in front of him.

Slowly Thranduil raised his head to look at his youngest son. "Oh?" He responded.

Legolas nodded. "I want to show you first, and then I will show the others." He hesitated. "Is that alright with you?"

"Yes." Thranduil smiled. "That is perfectly alright with me. When do you wish to leave?"

"I have meeting with the king tomorrow morning, but nothing after that." Thranduil critically studied a small note in front of him, words of a summoning scrawled within the folds.

"Can we leave after your 'meeting'?" Legolas asked, a slight stress on 'meeting'. He knew that the 'meetings' between two ruling kings could be rather interesting to watch, since both kings had the same amount of stubbornness. The 'meetings' usually turned into arguments that both kings usually sent apologies to each other after a few weeks to calm down.

He grinned. He had been lucky enough to watch his father and King Finarfin 'talk', and had been greatly amused by it, as had been Gimli, who had told Legolas afterward that Thranduil's temperament had at last been confirmed.

Legolas had laughed and teased Gimli that the dwarf was lucky enough to be on the widely known temperamental king's good side. Gimli had shaken his head and grinned, easily recognizing the truth in his friend's words.

Thranduil twirled the seal opener with his fingers, contemplating his son. He knew that Legolas thoroughly enjoyed it when he and the Noldor king faced off and he also knew that Legolas always tried to get things smoothed back as quickly as possible between the two. But perhaps if Finarfin did not receive an apology from him for a few days it might make the Noldor wonder how things truly were and it had the possibility of making the Noldor send him an apology instead of the other way around, for Legolas usually got him to apologize first instead of Finarfin.

He grinned. 'Just perhaps.' He thought. "Right after our meeting?" Thranduil clarified.

"Very well, I shall have my things packed." He stood and stretched. "I shall inform your Naneth of our impending departure and you can make sure we have plenty of food." He made a wry face. "And please don't make it all lembas and dried fruit."

Legolas laughed. "Thank you Ada." He said quietly, wrapping his arms around him.

'Oh Legolas.' Thranduil thought sadly. 'I would move the earth if only to see you happy again.'

Even though he was waiting in another room, completely sealed off from Finarfin's throne room, Legolas could still hear the angry shouts the two kings exchanged.

Sighing and shaking his head, he drew out a book of drawing paper and began to draw with a novel thing called a pencil. It was a slender stick, holed and a piece of lead was stuck in it, then it was sealed off at one end. A knife was used to sharpen it, but over all it was a handy thing to have.

Easily drawing the elegant arches of the waiting room's doors, his hand seemed to take a mind of it's own and he began to draw a very familiar corridor that he had not seen in a long time. Doors quickly sprang on the sides of the halls, and there striding down the center was Aragorn, closely followed by Eldarion. The boy's face was alight with joy and his arms were already flung out to welcome the Elven prince back to Minas Tirith.

Slamming the book shut with a force that even surprised him, he became aware of a presence standing at the doorway.

Looking up he froze. "Lady Galadriel." He immediately began to rise, but was stopped by a smile.

"Do not arise for my account young Legolas." Galadriel smiled. She paused and turned to listen. "It seems as though my Adar and your Adar are still at wills." She laughed lightly.

"We are well." Legolas replied equally calm. "Lomion's wife Lainiel is expecting any day now."

"I believe Lomion said it was a boy." Legolas replied. His face twisted slightly. "He wants to name him Eldarion."

"A son of the Eldar." Galadriel translated the name. "Why does your heart grieve over the name?" She asked curiously. She knew of course why Legolas' heart twisted within him at the mere mention of the name, but she wanted Legolas to know as well.

"Eldarion is the name Aragorn gave to his first born son." Legolas smiled. "His only son and heir." He sighed. "I watched Eldarion grow from a babe, to a young lad to a strong man who easily took the reign from his father. And I cannot imagine any other Eldarion taking Eldarion's place in my memory."

"Ah." Galadriel smiled sadly. She understood in many more ways than Legolas could or would ever know. "May I see your drawing?" She asked after a few moments of silence.

"It would be my pleasure." Legolas opened to the page of his latest drawing and handed the book to her.

Galadriel's fingers gently caressed the boy's face. "My great grandchild." She whispered. "Elladan and Elrohir have shown me pictures of him when he was older and the years had already worn him down, but this." She smiled softly. "Ai he was a beautiful child." She fingered the rest of the pages. "May I?"

Caught up in his own memories of the dark haired child, Legolas could only nod and watched with growing pangs in his heart as his private drawings were displayed.

Pictures of Gimli laughing as several children climbed over him, pictures of Aragorn, Arwen and Eldarion standing proud beside the throne of Gondor, pictures of the royal family in a less formal setting, Aragorn on the ground laughing with Eldarion, Merry and Pippin piled upon him, with Gimli, Arwen, Faramir, Ewoyn, Eomer, Lothiriel, Sam and his Rosie in the background all laughing along, pictures of all of his friend's alone, pictures of his friends all-together, pictures of the just the males, pictures of just the females.

The book was nearly full of drawn pictures, some old, some new, some had a few suspicious places where it looked like the ink had run.

Galadriel said nothing, but her heart was filled with sorrow at the pain the young elf beside her was going through. He dearly loved his friends as much as he loved his family. But the two were cleaved into two completely different places.

Her fingers stopped at a page. A babe lay within the page. His face was at peace; the dark eye lashes covering the gray eyes beneath. A necklace was grasped within the tiny fist. The Eveningstar. The hair was faintly curled and spoke of a full head of curly hair when grown. The round features of the child were clearly pronounced, yet Galadriel could clearly see that the child bore many characteristics of both parent's sides. And though only one ear showed, she could clearly see that the tip of the ear was very faintly pointed.

Her fingers gently caressed the cheek of the sleeping child, so real, so lifelike. It was hard to believe the child had lived and died a long time ago.

She raised her eyes to meet those of the young prince's. "It is a beautiful drawing, Legolas." She said quietly.

Legolas blushed faintly, his eyes still on the page. He could so clearly remember that day. It had been a few months after his birth, Aragorn was in a court session while Arwen was furiously planning his birthday celebration in secret, and so the Elven prince had been put to work babysitting. Gimli had already been recruited to ensure that Aragorn would have no knowledge of it and Legolas had sat quietly, alone watching Eldarion sleep.

Tearing his thoughts away Legolas focused them back to the present. "I have a drawing for you." He said quietly. "I have been meaning to give it to you, but." He shrugged slightly helpless. "I found that whenever I tried, I had to make just one more copy of it."

He bent over and grasped a pack at his feet. "I knew that I might see you today and brought it along." It was framed in a beautiful woodwork, with gentle elvish script along the edge, but it was the picture that caught Galadriel's attention. It was in full color, from the eyes to the intricate buttons. Aragorn stood, with Arwen at his side and their children surrounding them.

Reading the script it boldly proclaimed: King Elessar, Queen Arwen, and their children.

Tracing the faces of her granddaughter, grandson and her great grandchildren, Galadriel smiled. "Thank you Legolas. It is a gift I shall cherish."

She bestowed a gentle kiss upon the prince's forehead, handed him back the book almost full of drawings and taking the picture, she walked out leaving the prince to his thoughts once more.

Gently thumbing though the pages Legolas swallowed back tears. How he longed to be back in the past. Surrounded by his friends and family.

He refused to let his tears fall. He had refused them for a long time and it was breaking his heart. He tried to swallow the lump his throat, but for some reason it wouldn't budge. He reached up to try and massage it away, but it had no effect. He took several deep breaths to control his emotions, but found that it only seemed to help the tears that wanted to fall.

"What is a matter my little one?" Thranduil's low melodious voice was suddenly at his side.

With shaking hands, Legolas opened his drawing book and showed him the page that showed friends laughing at the antics of Pippin. Then flipped a couple more pages to show Aragorn standing with a grin on his face holding the newly born Eldarion in his arms.

Thranduil's heart sank. There had been many times in Middle Earth, he had often wondered what Legolas might have done had he not been fighting Orcs, spiders and wargs for much of his life. He had gotten a slight glimpse of what might his son had been after Sauron had been defeated.

Legolas loved to draw. He had loved to draw ever since he was a child. He drew with a skill and natural ease that often left people in tears. Since his memory was crystal clear he would often reach back in the past and draw with such intricate details that it seemed as though he had just seen it happen.

But these drawing instead of bringing back memories of happiness, they only brought back memories of a bittersweet time that would never be replayed in real life.

Very carefully taking the book from his son's hand, Thranduil closed it and sat down. "Why do you do this to yourself ion?" He asked, his voice tender despite the question.

"Lady Galadriel wanted to see them." Legolas replied his voice low. "I couldn't refuse."

Thranduil sighed, he cupped Legolas' chin in his hand. "I hate seeing you like this Legolas." He said. "I hate seeing you in pain."

Legolas swallowed, forcing his emotions back behind the wall carefully erected and put into place. "I'm sorry Ada." He whispered, giving the older elf a brief but sincere hug. "Are you ready to leave?"

Thranduil eyed Legolas curiously. He could almost see the mask drop over his son's face and that worried him. He knew that Legolas was hiding his emotions, but every tactic he tried to help him release his emotions was easily avoided or the subject was changed.

Little did Legolas realize though that with every question deflected, every subject avoided, he retreated further into a dream like world, where his friends and family lived happily together. His reality was no longer the Valinor. His reality was Middle Earth.

His friends watched with growing concern and sadness, but since Legolas refused help they were powerless.

They stood together. Father and son, tall and strong, proud and stubborn. Equal in many things, different in others.

"Do you..." He hesitated. "I mean... Are you...?" Legolas bit his lip not really knowing how to phrase the question he wanted to ask.

Shaking his head exasperated at his youngest antics, Thranduil just smiled and kept his questions to himself. He would find out exactly what Legolas meant but only when Legolas chose to reveal it himself.

They quietly walked side by side until they reached the flet. After years of staying in a 'cave' Thranduil still found a silent thrill whenever he climbed the leafy boughs.

After many years Gimli had been able to 'climb' the tree to get to the flet. Legolas had laughingly built his small friend a stairway the wove around the tree, stabilizing itself and making sure that Legolas did not have to nail the stairs to the tree. It was similar to the many staircases that had been built in Lothlorien. Though this tree could not be compared to many of the giant trees where stairs were necessary, it had enough height that the flet rested easily within the boughs.

Lalaith greeted them as she usually did, with a smile upon her lips and smothered laughter in her eyes. She knew all to well the 'discussions' her husband and the high king had. She placed a kiss upon her husband's lips and a kiss upon her youngest son's forehead.

"Thalion, Miriwen, the twins and Marielle are here." She informed them. "Dawriel has something she wishes to show Legolas and Danuas thinks that somehow his grandada will allow him to go along."

The twins greeted them enthusiastically. Though Marielle was only a few months old she gurgled happily and waved her arms about at the sight of her uncle and grandada.

Easily wrapping his arms around the twins, Legolas pressed kisses upon their foreheads and then laughed as they quickly scampered over to Thranduil to receive the same thing.

He knelt beside Miriwen and carefully lifted Marielle into his arms. "How is this little one?" He cooed at the happy baby.

She shrieked and immediately grabbed a strand of his hair. Thalion grinned, remembering all the times when Legolas had grabbed his own hair.

After a few moments of settling down, Thalion rather abruptly asked. "When are we leaving?"

"Thalion." Thranduil broke in smoothly. "I think this is one time that I think that Legolas is right in telling you no."

As he turned around he didn't see Legolas triumphantly stick out his tongue at his older brother, but after Dawriel choked back a chuckle, Thranduil shook his head. "Legolas, stick your tongue back in your mouth."

"Adar." Thalion ignored his youngest brother's antics. "I don't see why there would be a reason why I cannot accompany you and Legolas."

"Legolas." Thranduil warned. "Do not mock your brother." He turned his attention towards his second oldest son. "Thalion I do not want to hear anymore of this. You two are acting like elflings."

Danuas and Dawriel laughed, each delighting in the mental picture of their father and uncle as elflings.

Thalion sighed, casting a glare at his youngest brother who returned with a smug smile.

"Where is Lomion at?" Miriwen asked, casting her own smile at her youngest brother in law.

"Probably at home with Lainiel." Lalaith replied easily. "He is bound and determined to make sure that Lainiel rests." She laughed.

Thalion laughed as well, sending a wink towards his wife. Miriwen had never liked to stay indoors during her pregnancy and would often send Thalion into little fits when she came back inside, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes alight.

His attention was turned back to his parents, younger brothers and his children as Lalaith questioned Miriwen on some decorating designs. They chatted for a while, the three older males content to sit and listen to them.

After a few minutes the twins begged to go practice with their bows in the clearing below and Miriwen and Lalaith left to look at some design that was in Thranduil's study, leaving Thalion, Thranduil, Legolas and Marielle who was blinking drowsily.

After another few moments of silence Legolas quietly spoke up. "You are not to angry that I would like just Adar to go with me are you?" His voice was pleading, sitting down beside his elder brother.

Thalion smiled, resting a comforting hand upon Legolas' shoulder. "No, Legolas. I am not. But I do expect that you will show me what you have been so secretive for these past years."

Legolas blinked surprised. He had not breathed a single word about where he had gone or what he had done.

"Don't you know that we have raised you little leaf?" Thalion's voice, though amused was tender. "We have learned to read every expression on your face, when you are hiding something or when you are hurting." He smiled, but it was a rather sad smile. "That's what a family is for."

Disclaimer: Own nothing of Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien. New Line Cinema. Any of the notable characters or places. Written for enjoyment purposes only.

Settling down that night underneath the bright stars, Legolas could not help but voicing his questions.

Thranduil chuckled. "Ever since the first day you came back after you went off into the wild."

"I knew you would come forward sooner or later." Thranduil replied with a smile. "So I had patience and waited."

The fire crackled merrily as if to laugh along with the father and son. The air was much clearer away from civilization Thranduil had found with appreciation. Often he would find himself almost choked with the life teeming around him and his family.

After years of living away from civilization, it was quite difficult to change to a city like atmosphere. Though 'his' wood elves could easily slip in and out of such grand places as Lothlorien or Rivendell, they had always loved returning to the palace hidden deep within the woods of Eryn Lasgalan.

Legolas sighed lightly, dropping down onto his bedroll. "Nay." He replied softly. His gaze dropped down to stare at the cheery fire.

There were a few moments of silence as Legolas carefully sorted his thoughts and emotions apart. "You know, after I talked to Elladan and Elrohir I realized that I was not the last of the fellowship." His voice was quiet. "But then I also realized that I was picturing the fellowship in a different light. Mithrandir." He smiled. "Gandalf was a part of the fellowship of the ring."

"Mithrandir was there when we charged against Mount Doom and Sauron's full wrath. Mithrandir was there when Aragorn became King Elessar and married Arwen. But..." Legolas stopped, taking a deep breath, forcing his emotions under control. "Mithrandir was not there when Faramir married Eowyn. Mithrandir was not there when Eomer married Lothiriel. Mithrandir was not there when Eldarion was born. Mithrandir was not there when Aragorn almost died of a poisoned blade. He wasn't there when Eomer almost died from an assassination attempt." Legolas stopped abruptly, looking up into his father's eyes. "He missed so many things Ada. So many things."

His heart twisting within him, Thranduil rose from his own bedroll and clasped his son into his arms.

"Everyone says that I am not the last of the fellowship. And I am not the last of the fellowship of the ring." His voice choking, Legolas pressed on. "But I am the last of my fellowship. The fellowship of Merry, Pippin, Sam, Gimli, Aragorn, Arwen, Eomer, Eowyn, Faramir, Lothiriel, Imrahil, so many friends that I made after Mithrandir left."

"They keep saying 'You're not the last of the fellowship.'" Legolas whispered. "But in truth, I am." He leaned his head against the strength of his Adar. "I am."

For the first time, in he didn't know how long, Legolas felt like he was home. Held in arms that loved him, really loved him. All the pain in the universe could not disrupt this moment in time. And he didn't want to let it go. Yet those moments could never last, but they were meant to be treasured forever.

He fell asleep like that, cradled in his Adar's strong arms. Looking for all the world an innocent elfling without a care in the world. The lines of emotional pain soothed from the careworn face and for the first time in a long time, Legolas slept with no memories of his mortal friends.

The bright sun woke Legolas up, combined with the merry chirping of the birds and the happily babbling brook nearby.

He yawned rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Ada?" He called out, when he realized his father was nowhere to be seen.

He stood and stretched, easing his muscles back into working order. He twisted this way and that, hearing a pop as air pockets were released from his bones.

A low chuckle brought his head up and his hands reaching for his bow and quiver still on the ground.

"What are you doing here?" Legolas demanded as Elladan and Elrohir stepped into his view.

"Haven't you heard?" Elladan cried out easily stepping over an empty bedroll and embracing Legolas enthusiastically.

Elrohir simply stood with a grin on his face, content to let his older brother (by a few seconds) tell their best friend the good news.

"No." Legolas disentangled himself from Elladan's embrace. "What are you talking about?"

"Tasari has come! Arielle has too! And Thorinell and Lothgil too! They have been allowed to come from the Halls of Mandos!" Elladan cried, promptly yanking Legolas' arm and impatiently tugging upon him to get him to return with him to the court of Finarfin.

"Tasari, Arielle, Thorinell and Lothgil are all in your house waiting for you to return!" Elladan practically shouted.

"Tas and 'Gil are here?" Legolas whispered, realization finally dawning upon him.

"Yes." Elladan proceed to yank on Legolas' arm again. "They are waiting for you back at your house."

His hands shaking, Legolas stuffed the bedrolls away and began to clear the camp, his mind in turmoil.

'I wonder if they saw Aragorn.' Legolas thought. 'Or Gimli, or Frodo, or anyone!'

Only after everything was packed and the three friends were actually leaving did any of them think about Thranduil.

The trees were laughing, delighting in the presence of a wood elf. Though it had not been long since a wood elf had been underneath their tall boughs, it was the first time that a wood elf actually paid attention to them. His thoughts were not filled with pain and sorrow, but rather with delight and happiness. His heart was a little different matter however.

Thranduil would always love the trees he had lived under in Middle Earth. Eryn Lasgalan would forever hold a niche in his heart, but here underneath such grand trees, the pain was lessening every so slightly.

'I am King Thranduil.' The elf inclined his head slightly as he was meeting another on his own level of royalty.

'You are like him.' The trees alleged. 'But your thoughts are not full of pain and sorrow.'

Thranduil smiled sadly. 'He is my son. His heart has been hurting for many, many years now.'

'Why?" The trees inquired. 'Why does not he delight in trees as you? What is his pain that he cannot hear the song of the trees?'

Thranduil closed his eyes, the last bit of news wholly surprising and unexpected. Legolas had loved to listen to the song of the trees ever since he was born and to hear that his heart was so full of pain that he couldn't hear the song was nothing more than appalling.

'There are two more that join your son.' The trees informed the king. 'They cannot hear the song as you can but they can understand it a little.' The trees laughed, their limbs shaking in amusement.

'Elladan and Elrohir.' Thranduil replied, a smile upon his own lips. 'They were not born to hear the song of trees, but rather the song of the sea.'

Thranduil nodded in agreement. 'But.' He thought. 'The song of the trees holds my heart.'

"Some of it.' The trees returned gaily. 'But the song of your family holds your heart in a greater hold.'

'He is not hurt.' The tree reassured him. 'He has received good news from the two dark haired ones.'

Panting from running as fast and as hard as he could, Legolas broke into the clearing, his feet tangled in some dead brush, he tripped and fell.

Thranduil blinked. He had not seen Legolas this excited in a long time. "What is it?" He questioned.

"Tas! And Gil!" Legolas yanked on Thranduil's arm dragging him towards the campsite.

"Legolas what in the world are you talking about?" Thranduil asked, trying in vain to pull his arm from Legolas' grip.

Abruptly stopping, Legolas turned to face his Adar. "Tasari, Arielle, Thorinell and Lothgil are here." He said, then whirled around and continued to pull Thranduil behind him.

His mind in a whirl, Thranduil let his son pull him along. 'His little Tasari? His little princess 'Gil? Here in the Valinor?'

"Who... Who told you?" Thranduil asked at last, forcing his thoughts to focus on one task, to get back home.

He stopped suddenly. "Legolas." He pulled his arm from his son's grasp yet again. "You don't mind that we have to turn back do you?"

Legolas blinked. In his excitement, he had completely forgotten about the cave. He sent a reassuring smile to the other. "No Ada." He said softly. "I would not want to delay seeing Tas and Gil for anything in the world."

Wrapping his arms around the slender frame, Thranduil gave Legolas a quick hug. "Then come." He grinned. "Tasari and Gil are waiting for us." He quickly strode ahead, this time tugging on Legolas' arm.

Legolas laughed and soon they were racing past Elladan and Elrohir who watched with not a small bit of amusement.

He had not raced in several years, Legolas thought rather sadly as the trees blurred as he past them. Taking a firm hold on the adrenaline rush, and with a reckless gleam in his eyes Legolas leapt up in the trees and began to race from bough to bough as easily as if he were walking upon the ground.

Hearing laughter in the treetops the twins looked up to see Legolas high above them racing along as merrily as was possible.

Nudging Elrohir, Elladan spoke up, nearly shouting to ensure that Legolas would hear them. "Oh look Elrohir! A blonde haired squirrel! Shall we catch him?"

And suddenly Legolas was standing before them, his chest heaving, eyes alight with a wild adrenaline rush and his hair messed from the wind he had created.

His lips were turned up in a feral, daring grin. "You can try." He challenged and with that was gone with only laughter upon the air to show that he had ever been there.

Exchanging startled yet gleeful glances, the twins cried out their agreement and sped after the prince.

Thranduil slowed down as soon as he saw Legolas leap into the trees. He smiled wryly, he could easily remember doing that he when he was much younger.

He sighed. Tasari and Lothgil were in the Valinor, as were Thorinell and Arielle. So why hadn't his own Adar and Naneth come to the Valinor? Or mayhap they were already in the Valinor, but he had not found them yet.

His heart suddenly troubled, Thranduil continued onward after his son and his son's two best friends.

After breaking into the large clearing that held one of the larger settlements, the twins and Legolas broke even as they continued to race towards a statue where every race they had run had ended.

Other elves quickly gathered to cheer them on as they usually did. So far Legolas had been the champion at all but two races and this time was no different.

Though gasping for breath, Legolas pressed on to the large flet where he lived, Elladan and Elrohir following him.

He grasped the handrail and stopped, bending over still gasping for breath. He had not as such in such a long time that his lungs had seemed to forget how to properly breath in a longer race than usual.

Legolas nodded, just as Elladan knew he would. Indeed if Legolas had told him that he wasn't he might have been seriously worried.

Sitting down on the step, Legolas took several deep breaths and after a few moments regained his breath. Looking pensively upward towards the flet he could not help but wonder what his older brother and sister had gone through. If there was a sort of physical pain involved in returning or perhaps a mental pain.

His hands suddenly shaking, he carefully opened the door. Laughter greeted him. He could easily identify the different voices in the other room. Thalion was here along with Miriwen, the twins and Marielle, as was Lomion and his family, and Loriel with her family. Finally, the entire family was together again.

Not even realizing that he was shaking Legolas hurriedly walked down the short hall and into his Adar's study.

Lomion and Lainiel with their children Bregolas, Orophin, Deirdre, Morwen and another on the way. Loriel and Galador with their children Jehle, Eayre, and Linnete. Thalion and Miriwen with their children Danuas, Dawriel, and Marielle. Tasari and Arielle. Lothgil and Thorinell.

"Legolas!" Lothgil noticed him first. She quickly stood and rushed over to him enveloping him in an affectionate hug. "Oh 'Las." She whispered in his ear. "I have missed you so much."

Squeezing him once more, she stepped back and let Tasari wrap his around the slender figure. "Hello 'Las."

Suddenly unable to find his voice, Legolas could only bury his face into Tasari's shoulder and hold him tighter. He had not realized how much he had missed Tasari and Lothgil until he was once more able to feel them in his arms.

He pulled back, trying in vain to smile, but found that he couldn't with the tears in his eyes, threatening to fall. And indeed there were a few that he saw had escaped and were on Tasari's shoulder.

He struggled to keep his emotions down, but found that they were overwhelming him.

"Hey." Tasari said softly, wiping a tear away from Legolas' cheek. "What's this?"

With a choked sob, Legolas once more buried his face into Tasari's shoulder and clung on for dear life.

He felt Lothgil come behind him and wrap her arms around him as well, securing Legolas in a complete embrace.

Closing his eyes, Legolas took a deep breath, his mind flying back to memories of an elfling and being held by Tasari or Lothgil.

Lothgil smiled, gently brushing the few errant tears from her little brother's cheek.

There was such pain in his eyes, Lothgil saw. What had happened in the years she spent in the Halls of Mandos? What pain in Legolas' life had put such turmoil in his eyes? That even here, safely tucked away in the loving arms of his family and friends the pain had not decreased?

Her thoughts broke off as soon as she saw someone in the doorway, someone very dear to her.

"Ada." Her lips moved silently and then she was flying across the room and into his arms, Tasari right behind her.

Legolas stood back and greeted his sister and brother in law, his eyes still red and slightly swollen from his tears. He pulled Arielle into a quick but warm embrace and clasped Thorinell's wrist in a warrior's greeting before also giving the other elf a quick embrace.

He then sank to his knees next to Lalaith, his head resting on the side of her knee as the rest of the family watched Lothgil, Tasari and their Ada reunite.

"I am sorry for breaking up what you had planned Legolas." Lalaith said quietly. "But I thought you would want to know rather than wait until you returned."

"Do not be sorry." Legolas flashed a quick smile, taking her hand into his. "I am glad you sent Elladan and Elrohir."

Chaos reigned for a few moments as everyone shifted to make sure that everyone could sit down.

Thranduil watched with a fond smile as his children and grandchildren settled down. He had been truly blessed.

Night slowly settled upon the land, lamps were lit but the conversations never died down. There was much that Tasari and Lothgil wanted to know and much that the others wanted to tell.

A supper was hastily gathered as the females in the group joined in the kitchen to prepare it. The males were left alone, but Thorinell wanted to see some maps and so Lomion and Thalion joined him to look for them. Galador and Thranduil were discussing a book that they had both read and Legolas found the perfect opportunity to talk alone with Tasari.

"What is it that you wish to speak to me about?" Tasari asked sitting upon the neatly made bed.

Tasari sighed. He had heard bits and pieces of what Legolas had been though and he knew what he was about to say would only tear his little brother's heart more.

"Legolas." He began. "Mortals are not allowed into the Halls of Mandos. It is for elves only. Mortals go somewhere else." He looked down at his hands. "I thought you knew that."

He quickly looked up at the gasping breath. Legolas had gone completely white, his hands were shaking and his eyes were distant.

"Legolas!" Tasari cried out, immediately standing to rush over to his brother's side. "Are you unwell?"

His mind reeling from the shock of the statement, Legolas could barely comprehend his brother's words.

"No!" Legolas exclaimed. "I... I... I... Just... I... I just need to think." Legolas said. "I... I... I... I need to think."

After the door softly shut, Legolas crumbled. He buried his face in his hands and tried to control his breathing.

Half afraid that someone would hear him, Legolas quickly escaped out his window and quietly down the tree and fled into the night.

* Quote taken with permission from Arldetta's Star Wars fic - Forsaken and Begotten. Chapter 12 - When the Lion roars and the Lamb cries.

As they all gathered back to Thranduil’s study, only one person noticed that Legolas was missing. Indeed it was rather hard with all the elves milling around.

Tasari sat pensively on his chair. He wondered if he should say anything and if he should, who should he tell? Adar? Lomion? Thalion?

“And I don’t know if I should tell anyone what I told him.” Tasari confessed.

The wind tore at his clothes, at his face, at his hair, but he didn’t feel it. He could feel the tears seep from his eyes. He could feel the pain tearing at his heart.

Where he ran he had no idea. All he knew was that he needed to be alone. Somewhere where no one could easily find him.

He had no idea how far he ran. It could have been a few yards or a few leagues for all he cared.

All he knew was that when he reached his destination, he had reached somewhere special.

It was a large cliff with the sea dancing below it. The white path of the moonlight gently entwined with the whisper of the waves, together yet apart.

He stood there, balancing on the very edge of the cliff, his arms hung limply at his sides. Tears ran soundlessly down his cheeks. No effort was made to wipe them away.

His senses were utterly useless. Legolas was nowhere in sight. No touch could tell him where Legolas had gone. Even standing as still as possible, there was nothing that his hearing could define where Legolas could be. He could not taste anything save his own fear for his son.

His other children were left behind, most of them confused over the sudden turn of events.

The moonlight had shifted slightly as if the moon wished to comfort the prince and used the only resource it had.

The light gently bathed the grieving prince, easily defeating the shadows surrounding him and sent forth such brilliance that later on many an elf would say that the light had seemed as bright as the sun.

“Mortals are not allowed into the Halls of Mandos. It is for elves only. Mortals go somewhere else.”

The pain ripped across his already fragile heart, threatening to tear it in two.

He needed arms to hold him, to help ease the pain until he could make it lie dormant again.

He slowly looked around gazing at the sheer untamed beauty of the sea. How ironic that for so many years he had fought the call of the sea and could not even look at it for fear of waking it. But now here he sat, gazing at the very thing he had hated.

How easily he would trade the pain of the call of the sea for the pain of his long dead friends.

A quiet sigh from the edge of forest, shook him from his thoughts but didn’t surprise him.

Thranduil said nothing but moved forward, gently pulling his suffering son into his arms.

They sat there, letting the time slip away. Neither cared for in truth they had all the time in the world.

“I have forgotten the laughter of the wind.” Legolas said, his voice choking on the sobs from the deepest hurt in his heart. “Because all I can hear is the laughter of my friends.”

“I have forgotten how to listen to the song of the trees because all I can remember is the songs of my friends.” Legolas whispered.

“I don’t know how to be an elf anymore.” He confessed. “My path is darkened by memories that hurt. The tears in my eyes blur my sight and I cannot speak for the lump in my throat.” He turned heartbroken eyes upward. “My heart is numb, I only feel pain when I am lost in the memories of my friends.”

He fought to gain his emotions. “I feel so lost and alone.” He sighed. “And so utterly broken.”

“Then let us help you.” Thranduil said urgently. “Let us help you pick your up broken heart and mend it back together with our love, our laughter, our tears.”

Tears choked his own throat, until he could not speak, but continued to hold his son close to his heart.

“I’m broken Ada.” Legolas whispered. “Can you fix me? Can you help mend my heart? For I fear if you cannot, then I am lost forever.”

Thranduil cupped Legolas’ chin in his hand. “I would mend your heart if I could.”

He placed his hand over Legolas’ pounding heart. “I would take your pain in a second, but I cannot. It is up to you, you can take this pain and embrace it and let it go, or you can hold on to it and let it consume you like it has for so long.”

“The choice is yours and yours alone, no one else can decide for you.” Thranduil said quietly.

Food was picked at, moved about but only a few bites were actually eaten. Everyone’s thoughts, expect perhaps Marielle’s was upon Legolas.

Each worried what would happen to their the young prince, each wanted to do something, but no one knew what.

“May I please be excused? I forgot something at the house I wanted to show Deirdre.”

Tasari chuckled suddenly bringing all eyes upon him. “It seems so weird seeing you all here.” He smiled a little wistfully. “There is so much I.” He glanced at Arielle. “We have missed.” He sighed. “Legolas being one of them.”

Thalion shook his head. “Legolas is too caught up in his own pain to realize what pain he is causing others.”

“Thalion!” Miriwen exclaimed. “How can you say something so mean? Legolas is hurting very deeply and we should all try and comfort him.”

“No.” Loriel spoke up. “Legolas is being rather selfish in his own pain, Miriwen. How long has it been since Gimli died? It seems like he is hanging on to his pain just to remind us of his mortal friends.”

“That’s rather mean Loriel.” Lomion spoke up. “I highly doubt that Legolas realizes what he is doing.”

“That’s just it.” Loriel countered. “He’s to lost in himself to see anyone else.”

“I think he just needs some more time.” Galador spoke up, his baritone soothing tempers.

“Thalion please.” Lainiel soothed, shooting a look towards not only her children but also Loriel’s and Miriwen’s.

“Legolas has had enough time to grieve for his friends.” Thalion said with conviction. “He needs to realize that we are still here. We have not left. He keeps focusing upon the fact that his friends are dead and not us.”

Thalion laughed. “Ada always coddled him after...” He stopped short. Suddenly realizing the presence of another.

As if everyone was on the same thought, everyone turned to look at the their Naneth.

Eyes were turned downcast, napkins were fiddled with and blushes stained pale cheeks.

“But he is not completely spoiled.” Lalaith spoke up quietly. “I think you were all coddled a bit after I left you.” Her voice was sad. “And it is no one’s fault but mine.” She cleared her throat. “Now who would like some dessert?”

After years of commotion, Legolas found the silence depressing. He was so used to some noise in his ears that the silence was almost scary.

The silence that prevailed as the prince contemplated his Adar’s wise words had a bit of melancholy in it. For Legolas knew something that no one else did.

“I have been hiding something from you.” Legolas began, slowly creaking open the doors to his heart that had long been shut and locked.

His attention instantly caught, Thranduil looked at his son. “Oh?” He prodded curiously.

“I know I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t want to worry you and I know you get worried easily, so I decided not to tell you but you are still worried so...” Legolas said in a rush.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and smothered a chuckle. For all his hurts and pains, Legolas was still Legolas. “Go on.” He encouraged gently.

“There was something that happened on one of the times I was gone.” Legolas began again, his voice hushed as if telling a secret.

He looked down as if ashamed. “I was walking along thinking about Aragorn and everyone else when...” He bit his lip. “Everything went black and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground.” His brow furrowed. “There was blood on the ground, but...” His head tilted ever so slightly to the left. “I wasn’t cut.” He absently wiped and imaginary trail of something from his chin.

“But there was blood. Not a lot of blood, but blood.” Legolas continued. He stared down at his hand, suddenly awash in a not long distant memory.

A slender pale hand reached up and wiped away a sticky wetness from his chin then stared in shock at the blood on his hand.

His brow furrowed, Legolas stared at his hand. There had been blood on his hand, but then he had washed it off.

“Legolas?” Thranduil quickly drew his son’s attention to him. “When was this?”

Deep in thought, Legolas didn’t realize his hand was automatically wiping itself off on his leggings...

But Thranduil noticed. And his worry, panic and heartache burst into a new light... This time for his son’s very life...

The fire crackled merrily, contrasting starkly against the dark mood that had settled amidst the adults.

Spoons gently clanged against sides of cups, but no one noticed. Each elf was deep in their own thoughts.

“When do you think grandada and uncle Legolas will be back?” Danuas asked quietly.

Danuas bit on his lower lip. “Is he going to be all right? Uncle Legolas I mean.”

Exchanging quick glances with his wife, Thalion asked cautiously. “And why do you ask that?”

“He seems so sad all the time.” Danuas’ voice was sad. “Like he has lost his way and he can’t find it.”

“I don’t know.” Thalion replied, gently twirling his tea with his spoon. “I don’t know.”

“All the other elves I know that have lost someone on Middle Earth seem to be happy.” Bregolas spoke up.

“I think it’s a little different for your uncle Legolas.” Lomion spoke up.

Legolas was a favorite among the younger generation and to see their parent’s and relatives so worried over him was startling.

The door suddenly swept open. “Lomion send for Lord Elrond, tell him it’s urgent.”

“Where is Legolas?” Lalaith cried out, not seeing her youngest son with her husband.

Thranduil quickly shook his head, looking meaningfully at the children sprawled about the room.

Though most of them were young adults they were and probably would always be children in the eyes of Thranduil.

Many of them looked ready to protest, but with a single look from one of their parents, they quietly acquiesced and filed out of the room behind their grandnana.

Questions flew at the Woodland king, but he shook his head. There was no time to answer them.

“Legolas is fine.” He stressed the fine, as if trying to force the idea into their minds. “But I need to talk to Elrond.”

Thranduil sighed. “I think so, but I don’t know for sure. That is why I need Elrond here.”

“He just went to send a messenger off for Lord Elrond.” Lainiel replied smoothly.

“Tell Lomion to tell Elrond to meet me at the cliff top.” Thranduil ordered and rushed back out the door.

A/N: Hello all... Sorry it's taken me a little bit to get this chapter up... I have been really getting discouraged by the 'constructive reviews' I have been recieving... I will reply to each review, but here is something htat I would like for you to read...

This is fan fiction. Mark the fiction. It's not real. It might be based on something real, but it isn't. I have been taking and absorbing a lot of blows abouthow this shouldn't have happened, this couldn't have happened, you're forgetting someone, ect. This story and any of my stories are something very personal to me. God gave me a gift for writting and when you critize my writting you critize me. And that hurts. Please do not tell me how to write my story. If you choose to find every single thing you don't think is right you can't read my story the way I intended it to be read. This is fan fiction. It's an AU story. It's my version of how I think it might have happened. That's is what is so cool about people. We all have different ideas on the same issue. So let me write my version and you write your version and we can celebrate in the differences of us both!

A tear ran down a smooth cheek. A pink tongue reached out and wiped it away; the owner then closed his lips as if to savor the salty taste.

“What are you doing to yourself?” Aragorn’s voice questioned across time.

“Ha! I think your memory is going, I’m King Elessar now remember?” The memory taunted.

“Don’t hate me for dying Legolas.” The memory changed. “Love me for living.”

“I fear for him Gimli.” Another memory. This time from unintentionally eavesdropping on two of his dearest friends. “His heart is too frail for his own good.” A sigh.

“Nay Aragorn.” The memory replied in Gimli’s voice. “His heart is too strong for his own good. I don’t think that Legolas will ever be able to give into anything easily.”

“He never will give into anything easily.” Came the soft answer in Aragorn’s voice. “And I fear that will be the breaking of him.”

“He is dying Legolas. There is nothing you can do.” Arwen’s soft voice floated across years back into Legolas’ heart. “He is dying of old age. There is nothing anyone can do.”

“We just received word that Master Brandybuck’s and Master Took’s bodies are on their way.”

“Oh Legolas.” Arwen’s voice whispered once more. “I cannot wait to be with him again.”

“Lothiriel passed away last night Legolas. My life, my breath, the other half of my soul.”

“They are all dead Legolas.” The statement was startling to the young prince.

“Don’t you know that we have raised you little leaf?” Thalion’s voice, though amused was tender. “We have learned to read every expression on your face, when you are hiding something or when you are hurting.” He smiled, but it was a rather sad smile. “That’s what a family is for.”

“I would take your pain in a second, but I cannot. It is up to you, you can take this pain and embrace it and let it go, or you can hold on to it and let it consume you like it has for so long. The choice is yours and yours alone, no one else can decide for you.” Thranduil said quietly.

Elrond’s voice brought the blonde haired head around to look over his shoulder.

“Yes.” Legolas said simply. “Ada has told you about what happened to me and he is worried that I am fading and he wants you to change that fact.”

“So why are you coughing up blood?” Elrond questioned. His healer’s instincts were screaming at him to get Legolas on his back to examine him.

Legolas pressed a hand against his heart. “There are too many emotions within my body.” He looked down. “I have been unable to eat or sleep for several weeks now.”

Legolas smiled. “When you push your food around on your plate and cut it in small pieces it looks like you ate something.” He shrugged. “They watch me, but they don’t seem to pay attention.”

“I know they worry about me, but they don’t really seem to understand.” Legolas finished quietly.

“You don’t really give them a chance you know.” Elrond admonished gently. “They try to understand.”

“But they can’t.” Legolas protested lightly. “None of them have ever befriended a mortal as I did.”

“Very true.” Elrond allowed. “But that doesn’t mean you should block them out just because they might not understand.”

“Now.” Elrond stood. “I wish to examine you and see why you have been coughing up blood.”

“It was only once.” Legolas protested but allowed himself to be pulled to his feet as well.

“Take a deep breath.” Elrond ordered the shirtless Legolas, his hand in the middle of his back.

Making sure of it, Elrond stepped back. “And how long before you would tell anyone about your difficulties breathing?”

Legolas scowled. “I’ve lived with it for quite a while now and I didn’t think I needed to alarm anyone.”

“Except now you confessed to your Adar, who is terrified you are fading.” Elrond countered.

Legolas sighed, having the grace to actually look ashamed. “I was going to tell him more, but he rushed off.”

Elrond shook his head and sat on the edge of his desk. “Legolas, Legolas, Legolas. What am I going to do with you?”

“I think that Legolas is finally backed against something that refuses to move.” Elrohir said his voice melodiously fair.

“Hmm.” Elladan tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Who do you think it would be Ada mine?”

“I think.” Elrohir grinned easily, too easily in Legolas’ opinion. “That our gwador (brother by choice not blood) knows what it is, but doesn’t want to say.”

Legolas scowled at them, his head disappearing for a few seconds as he slid his shirt on. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” He fairly bristled.

“Boys.” Elrond’s voice had a warning in it. “I would appreciate it if you did not rile my patient up.”

“By free choice or force?” Elladan grinned, tugging at Legolas’ shirt to smooth out a wrinkle.

“Oh good.” Elrohir returned. “That means that Adar can tell us all your ailments.”

“Boys please.” Elrond heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Thranduil is probably wearing holes in the waiting room waiting for my report.” He smiled at the mental image.

He patted Legolas on the shoulder and exited, leaving him with his twin son’s.

“So.” Elladan seated himself on a chair. “Are you going to tell us what is happening or are we going to be forced to ask Adar?”

Legolas sighed. “I coughed up some blood a few weeks back.” He confessed. “And at times I have had difficulty breathing properly.”

“Not to mention the fact that you don’t sleep or eat properly either.” Elladan stated, with a shake of his black haired head.

At Legolas’ surprised look, both twins smiled, albeit sadly. “Legolas, do you honestly think you are hiding your every movement from the rest of us?”

“Legolas you are as dear to us as if you were our real little brother.” Elrohir said quietly, but with such an emotional plea that Legolas could not help feel a little guilty over his want to hide everything from view.

He raised teary eyes to the two figures before him. “I am sorry.” He whispered, his voice cracking. “I have lost sight of my path.” He confessed; a lone tear trickled down his cheek. He made no attempt to wipe it away; indeed it was questionable if Legolas even knew it was there.

“I look at the faces of my family and all I can remember are the faces of everyone else.” He bit his lip, trying to force the lump in his throat away.

“I’m afraid of forgetting them.” Legolas whispered. “I’m afraid that if I forget, everyone else will.”

“Oh Las.” Elrohir replied tenderly. “Do you really think we could forget Aragorn and Arwen?”

“Nay.” He shook his head. “But I fear you will forget the others.” He hesitated. “Like Eomer, Eowyn, Faramir, Lothiriel, Merry, Pippin, Rosie…” His voice choked.

Silence prevailed for a few moments as Elladan and Elrohir frantically searched their minds for an answer that would be right.

“Easy.” Elladan soothed, pressing the prince back down. “Listen to what I have to say.” He said quietly, his eyes finding the gray-blue ones.

“You have kept silent for so long about them.” Elladan began to explain. “You have pushed their memories into darkness, allowing no one to speak their names, or any memory of them.” He paused thinking quickly. “Even Adar hesitates to say any mention of Arwen or Aragorn.”

Legolas flinched, not so much at the names voiced, but at the fact that even the well-respected Lord Elrond would humble himself to try and not cause Legolas any pain.

“He loves you, you know.” Elrohir spoke up softly. “To him you are just like another son.”

“Nay.” Elrohir smiled sadly. “No one can replace Aragorn, but you help fill a void within his heart.”

“How?” Legolas questioned. “How do I fill a void when I feel like I am a void myself.”

“Oh Legolas.” Elladan whispered. “You fill the lives of so many here. Don’t let the darkness take you away from us.”

Elrond smiled, he knew that Thranduil would be as such. “Sit down Mellon Nin.” He said quietly, gesturing towards the seats near the cold fireplace.

Instantly intense gray-blue eyes pierced Elrond, ones quite like his patient’s, but at least these were not haunted and full of grief.

Elrond hid a grin. Ah yes, Legolas would have gotten the temper from his Adar, he thought ruefully.

“He is not eating properly or taking care of his body’s needs.” Elrond explained. “He also told me he has been having a little difficulty breathing, and there is a hitch in his lungs when he breathes.”

“And I think you are doing the best job possible with a young elf who is very depressed.” Elrond said quietly.

“But there must be something more we can do!” Thranduil cried out, standing up.

“There is one thing.” Elrond began. “But I am hesitant with the possible repercussions.”

“I watched them grow old.” Legolas whispered. “I watched lines grow on their faces, not because of laughter, but because of old age. I watched brown hair turn silver and black hair turn white. I watched as their bodies began to slow down and they needed help just to walk.”

Elladan and Elrohir remained silent, letting their young friend voice his hurts and sorrows.

“I watched their children grow, from babies to young adults to mature men and women. I watched them marry and have more children.” His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “I was everyone’s Uncle Legolas.”

“I was there at every wedding, at every birth…” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “And at every death.”

“I told him not to leave me.” Legolas cried his voice muffled by the Elrohir’s shirt. “I told him but he didn’t listen.”

“Oh Legolas.” Elladan soothed, his own voice choking from the pain of Legolas’ words. He clasped his arms over Elrohir’s and together they poured out their support and love.

Thranduil looked around the room, his mind reeling away from what Elrond had told him.

“You want me force him to open his heart? His very being to me?” Thranduil sat down, shocked.

“The sooner Legolas can release his pain.” Elrond said. “The sooner he may begin to heal.”

“But...” Thranduil shook his head, his whole body aghast at the possible repercussions. “It could kill him!”

“Nay.” Thranduil shook his head. “I will not risk it.” He whispered. “I will not risk loosing my child.”

“You are already loosing him Thranduil!” Elrond exclaimed. “His heart is being ripped in two!”

“I hate it!” Legolas cried, tears pouring down his cheeks. “I hate being here alone.”

“You are not alone!” Elladan shook the prince slightly. “You have your friends. You have your family. You have us.”

He shook the prince again as if to try and force the words into the grieving prince’s head and heart.

“You have us.” Elladan choked. He flung his arms back around Legolas and buried his own face into Legolas’ shoulder.

He as well as Elrohir had kept their pain hidden. Not only to protect Legolas, but to protect their Adar and Naneth. But now, here when the pain flowed freely, every hurt bubbling up and demanding to be released, it was painfully hard to relinquish the pain they had been carrying for so long. There was something comforting in the past.

Taking his pain, his hurts, his sorrows in hand, he held them close to his heart. He could see their faces. Hear their laughter.

A/N: I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas! I am soooo sorry this is late!... Hopefully the next chapter will be sooner...

Thranduil tiredly rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day and even longer night.

Thankfully Legolas was sound asleep, not a light Elven sleep but a deep healing sleep that would mend his broken emotions. His eyes were shut, a testament of how exhausted the Prince was.

The King sighed, letting his head fall back, thinking back upon the heartbreaking scene he had come upon.

Legolas wrapped into a gentle, fierce, loving and supportive embrace as his emotions ran rampant.

Elladan and Elrohir had quietly moved to let Thranduil in his rightful place, and there his head buried into his Adar’s shoulder and his hands twisting into Thranduil’s robes desperately trying to find comfort after years of denial, he soon fell asleep.

They had carefully lifted the prince onto a nearby bed, slipped off his boots and gently tucked him under the sheets.

Pressing a gentle kiss to Legolas’ forehead, Thranduil stepped back to gaze sorrowfully at his youngest.

For many years he had held a thought in his mind why Legolas had reacted so badly to his mortal friend’s dying and perhaps now it was time to shed light upon it.

And there he sat, a small fire in front of him to dispel the chill of the night and early morning, with a glass of wine still full beside him, his brow furrowed as he thought upon Legolas’ life.

A knock sounded startling the King from his musings. He heard a servant open the door.

“Come and sit down Lomion.” Thranduil invited. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

“Oh?” Lomion raised an eyebrow as he gracefully sat down. “And what would that be about.”

“I think there is a reason and a good one, why Legolas has been acting as he has been since Gimli died.” Thranduil began. “But I want to hear your opinion upon it before I talk with your other siblings.”

“What do you remember most after your Naneth died about Legolas?” Thranduil questioned.

“What do I remember most?” Lomion clarified, leaning back and laced his fingers together.

Casting his memory back, Lomion’s brow furrowed as he thought back to that horrible day when their Naneth had left.

“Legolas wasn’t told.” He said abruptly. “The rest of us knew why she left, but Legolas was not told until he was an adult.”

“He wanted Naneth.” Lomion whispered his mind filled with the elflings screams.

“I want Nana!” Legolas screamed. One hand holding onto his blanket and the other tightly wrapped around his Adar. Tears were pouring down the red face.

The entire realm mourned their beloved queen’s passing into the West. Indeed many could not fathom a reason why a mother would leaver her children behind, especially the youngest being an elfling yet.

Everyone in the realm knew of Legolas’ delicate condition and many were horrified that Lalaith could so callously leave.

Legolas had been born two months early his lungs had not been able to fully develop. He had struggled to live for several years until a chance encounter with Lord Elrond had given Legolas back his life.

Those few weeks in Imladris were rarely mentioned, but everyone who had been present could easily remember it.

“Now.” Thranduil continued. “Do you remember what happened after Loriel was married and left?”

A sad smile crossed Lomion’s lips. “He was devastated.” He said simply. “He refused to talk or eat, and was in a sullen pout for about three months.”

“But why do you think that has anything to do with Naneth leaving?” Lomion questioned.

“What happened whenever you were punished and sent to your room?” Thranduil asked.

“Who did your first run to when you scraped a knee or elbow?” Thranduil pressed.

Thranduil nodded. “Exactly. Now where was she when Legolas was growing? Where was she when Legolas scraped a knee or elbow? Where was she when Legolas was punished and sent to his room?”

“Your Naneth balanced out your childhood.” Thranduil explained. “I punished, she soothed.”

“No.” Thranduil agreed. “But can you see the difference? One parent to punish and one parent to sooth.”

“But not his Naneth.” Thranduil countered. “Yes he had his sisters and brothers, but there is something pure and precious in a Naneth waiting to hold you and comfort you.”

Thranduil’s brow furrowed. “Legolas never really had that balance. For the first years of his life, I was absent. And from then to now, your Naneth was absent. And now that he does have the proper balance he feels lost. He doesn’t know whom to turn to. You, Loriel, Thalion, Tasari, Lothgil, your Naneth or I.”

“He has always been forced to balance things himself. But I think with his friends dying, he was forced to face a different balance.” Thranduil continued. “The balance of life and death.”

He took a breath. “See he knew that his Naneth was waiting for him here in Valinor. But his friends couldn’t wait here because they are mortal and sent some other place.”

“In his mind yes. In his heart he wanted to believe something different. He wanted to believe that because of their actions in Middle Earth that each of his mortal friends would be placed here in Valinor.” Thranduil explained.

So.” Lomion said slowly. “You think that because Legolas didn’t have Naneth by his side when he was growing up that that is the cause for all his hidden grief?”

“Some of it.” Thranduil returned. “He lost something very precious when your Naneth left him.”

“With grace and dignity.” Thranduil agreed. “Forgiveness? I believe so, judging by Legolas’ actions around her. But I doubt that he even knows that her leaving was the first step that slowly tore his heart into pieces.”

He forced his eyelids open, he could not, for the life of him think why they were closed.

His head throbbed suddenly as he tried to sit up, the room unexpectedly going into dizzying spins.

He closed his eyes and forced the nausea down, taking several deep breaths. After a few moments he tried again.

He looked about the healing room. Herbs were hung here and there for drying, bottles with different colored liquid were stacked upon a nearby shelf that also held several volumes of books. Papers lay scattered upon a desk, some had sketching of various wounds and bruises and others had words on a new ailment that had been found, or a new poison.

His brow furrowed as he tried to remember where he was. The last thing he remembered as he sorted his rather fuzzy thoughts was that of being held.

He blinked and looked around the room again. There was no sign of anyone else. Usually there was somebody beside his bed or just entering the door to check on him.

His head tilted ever so slightly as he regarded the door quizzically, waiting for someone to come through the door.

With a slight shrug, Legolas carefully swung his feet down and stood rather shakily.

Elladan laughed. “I know.” He said striding over to the bed. “I was teasing.”

“I feel…” Legolas hesitated, searching for the right words. “Empty, but full.” He frowned. “I feel as though a weight was lifted from me, but I can still feel traces of it.”

Elladan smiled gently, easily pulling the younger elf into a quick embrace. “Good.” He said simply. “I am glad.”

Legolas smiled back, his eyes sparkled from unshed tears. “I realized something Elladan.” He said quietly.

“I cannot change anything in the past. I can only accept it and move to the future.” Legolas said carefully. “For so long I hated the fact that my friends were dead, and here I am, alive. Living. Breathing.” He shook his head. “But now I realize I am only hurting myself. In hating them for dying, I started to hate myself for living.”

“And in hating myself, I started to hate everyone around me. I hated being immortal, at times I still do.” He continued frankly. His eyes took a distant look. “Just think, our mortal friends are all together.” A sad smile crossed his lips. “The fellowship is almost complete, all but one person.”

He turned bright eyes upon Elladan. “It’s rather funny isn’t it? For so long Boromir was the only person missing in our original fellowship. Now it’s me.”

Elladan smiled sadly, but made no comment. He knew Legolas had to get a lot of grief off his chest and was only too glad to remain silent and listen.

“But now.” Legolas whispered. “I realize that I don’t think I could ever bear to leave my family.” He turned a wavering smile upon the other elf. “Not even for Aragorn.”

Elladan quickly pulled the younger elf into a hug. “I am glad.” He whispered fiercely. “I am glad.”

Lomion idly ran the tip of his finger along his glass of wine. The wine was superb, but Lomion really had no taste for it especially after such a long thought provoking talk with his Adar.

Legolas had always been a wonderful child growing up. Though at times, now he could really think back, there were times when no one could console Legolas. There were times when on Naneth could have truly understood, not Loriel or Lothgil trying to understand or anyone else for that matter.

From growing from a small elfling, to a proud warrior to the commander of the army, Lomion had always had both parents near him.

Thranduil had been there when he had killed his first Orc, he had consoled his oldest son, but Lalaith had been there just to hold her oldest son while he wept, as his precious innocence was forever lost.

It had been the same with Thalion and Tasari. Thranduil had helped them come to grips with what they had done and Lalaith had been there to simply comfort them.

But when Legolas had killed his first Orc, it had been completely different. No one had been there to hold him. Lomion, Thalion and Thranduil had been in a conference with the other leaders, while Tasari and Lothgil had been off somewhere and Loriel had already left.

Picking up the glass by the stem he swirled the white wine around for a few seconds the raised the glass up and swallowed the rest of it easily. Then stood gracefully, stretching.

He had promised Adar to check on Legolas before Thranduil had left to talk to the rest of his siblings.

Gracefully walking down the corridor he silently opened the door. He was not surprised to see Elladan sitting with Legolas on the bed, but he was surprised to see them both laughing.

“He had that stupid look on his face!” Legolas laughed. “Like he was trying to be innocent when the cat was in his hands!”

Tears of laughter, of joy rain down Legolas cheeks, so different from the many tears of sorrow and pain. There was a light surrounding Legolas. The grief had started to fade from the gray-blue eyes.

If Legolas’ face had not already been lit up, the smile would have easily brightened it. “Lomion!” He cried out, as though he had not seen Lomion in several ages.

Slightly stunned, Lomion wrapped his own arms around his little brother and squeezed back.

Legolas smiled, pulling back. “I just realized how much I have been neglecting my family.” He said.

“No.” Legolas shook his head, but smiled to take away the sting of the word. “You understood the best you could, but you never fully understood.”

Lomion gently tucked a stray hair behind the elegantly pointed ear. “Oh Legolas.” He whispered. “When did you grow up?”

“A long, long time ago.” Legolas grinned. “You just never looked hard enough.”

“Nay.” Elladan gracefully slid off the bed and onto his feet. “I just listened.”

“And understood with a greater ability than I could ever possess.” Lomion returned.

“I am glad someone does though.” Legolas said quietly, reaching out to pull the dark haired elf into a warm hug. “Thank you.” He whispered.

Without warning, the young prince launched himself at grinning elf, grabbed his right wrist and twisted backwards, then triumphantly seated himself on Elladan’s back. “And what do you say now?” Legolas asked wickedly. “Do you need a lot of help or just some help?”

Giving a mock outcry of rage, Legolas grabbed Elladan’s left wrist and pulled back, joining the wrists together towards the middle of the dark haired elf’s back.

“I say you are a spoiled princeling who always gets his way.” Elladan wheezed.

Easily taking both of Elladan’s wrists in one hand Legolas used the other take the clips out of the other’s hair.

“Are you having fun Legolas?” Lomion asked eyebrow raised with a grin playing on his lips. He could easily remember when Legolas had first learned that trick, much to the chagrin of Thalion who had been the first whom the trick had been played upon, right in front of his fellow warriors if Lomion remembered correctly.

Legolas had been about eleven, they had only recently returned from Rivendell and Legolas was rather sad coming home only to have no Nana waiting for him, so Lomion had taught him a trick.

And then told him how to use the trick properly so that Legolas could actually use it.

He had stood hidden by a tree and watched with glee as Legolas very easily carried the trick out on Thalion in full view of Thalion’s entire patrol. There were few warriors who did not look back on that memory and smiled.

Elladan’s hair was completely undone, since Legolas had pulled the clips holding Elladan’s hair out, and was hanging in the dark haired elf’s face.

With a laugh Legolas easily pulled himself up and off of Elladan’s back. Unable to resist, the young prince reached out and tousled the dark hair.

Elladan scowled playfully. “I hope you had your fun.” He teased. “Because I will get my revenge.”

“Sure you will.” Legolas taunted lightly, he leaned back, letting his head fall on the side of Lomion’s shoulder. He was tired, but was having too much fun to admit it.

He looked so young, half laying against his older brother, Elladan thought. As if the world had not touched him. And had there not been a slight shadow in the blue-gray eyes, Elladan could have easily believed it.

At Elladan’s raised eyebrow he amended his words. “I mean of course I do.” He grinned rather lopsidedly. His brain wasn’t really functioning quite well at the moment, but he pressed on.

“Your Adar found out that my.” Legolas yawned again. “Lungs aren’t working correctly again.” Another yawn. His eyes began to slowly slid shut, completely against his will. “But I’m not…” His voice slurred and his mind slowly went blank. “Not dying…”

Lomion and Elladan smiled at the still figure. And ever so gently, Lomion eased Legolas off of him and laid him down while Elladan retrieved a blanket and placed it over the sleeping prince.

Filing out the door behind Elladan, Lomion could not help but pause and turn around. It had always been a tradition that whoever tucked Legolas to sleep that the person would always place a kiss upon the fair brow.

When Legolas had asked why, he had been told that the kiss was a guardian against evil dreams and it would protect him. Though many an age had passed since Legolas had been a small child, Lomion could not help but smile, walk over and place a kiss upon his youngest brother’s brow.

A/N: Sorry this is taking so long! I am really struggling with this story so don't expect the next chapter too soon. Sorry again!

“So you think that Naneth leaving impacted Legolas in a far deeper emotional sense than we could have ever realized?” Thalion asked quietly.

“Yes.” Thranduil responded. “And I also think that is why he hardly ever accepts change as well as the rest of us can.”

“Remember when anything sudden happened? Something that was not planned for weeks ahead?” Thranduil inquired.

“And when he found that Tasari, Arielle, Lothgil and Thorinell had all died?”

“We thought for a time he would not make it himself.” Thalion shook his head. Remembering all too clearly the hellish days following the return of the youngest prince of Eryn Lasgalan.

“I had some rather interesting conversations with Gimli before he died.” Thranduil revealed.

“He told me what Legolas did after he watched his friends die, one at a time.”

“Aragorn told Gimli to keep an eye upon him.” Thranduil explained slowly. “It seems that Legolas would always leave for a few weeks. No one would know where he went and no one knew when he would be back.”

“Who let you in?” Thalion greeting, standing and wrapping his hand around the other’s wrist in a familiar warrior’s greeting.

“Of course.” Elrohir smiled. He seated himself comfortably. “What Gimli told you is true.” He began. “When the first death occurred Legolas just seemed to vanish. We searched everywhere for him. Lothlorien, Eryn Lasgalan, Rivendell, the Shire, Rohan…” He shook his head. “Even to this day we still don’t know where he was.”

“No.” Elrohir shook his head. “We gave him the space we thought he needed, but we also let him know we were never too busy for him to come and talk if he wanted.”

“He didn’t.” Elrohir said grimly. “Or rather he refused to talk about it. Every time we started a conversation about it he would either leave or just clamp up and refuse to talk.”

“You mean.” Thranduil began. “He’s been grieving ever since the first of his friends died?”

“You mean he’s been grieving for over six hundred years?” Miriwen asked incredulously.

“Probably.” Elrohir agreed. “But at times I think it was lightened enough to the point where he wasn’t really in danger of fading.”

“But hidden grief is dangerous.” Thalion persisted. “And if he’s been hiding it for so long…”

“There was a difference in his weeping.” Elrohir explained. “Like a dam that had burst open.” He frowned. “I can’t really explain it, but there was just a difference.”

Thranduil nodded. “But there are still a few concerns about him that I would like to ask you about.” He directed towards the young dark haired elf.

Thranduil grinned, liking the young elf’s ease around him. There had been few of Legolas’ friends who had been completely at ease with the renowned woodland king, renowned for his temper that is.

Elrohir dropped his head, unable to hide the memories that flooded in his mind of his mother’s leaving. “Our reaction?” He clarified, his voice rough as he unconsciously brought his twin brother in his mind.

“We reacted with anger.” Elrohir began. “Mainly to cover up our heart’s agony. We refused to believe that what had happened to Naneth had happened. But that was our reason why we…” He faltered.

Headless Orcs lying about, their faces twisted in horrible masks of agony before they had died…

Screams of men who had been known to help Orcs, as they were ‘interrogated’ and then mercifully killed after they talked… And if they didn’t talk…

He stared at them… His hands were clean now… Spotlessly clean… Not even a speck of dirt under the nails or dirt in the crevices of his calluses.

Black blood so thick upon his hand that it had taken weeks for them to be fully cleaned… Stained so deep in the tiny crevices that it would have been easier to skin his hands that for the to fully be cleaned…

The dark haired elf smiled sadly. “Memories.” He said as an explanation, but giving no indication that he wanted to continue on that path, Thranduil did not press him.

“For many years Elladan and I did not acknowledge what had happened to our Naneth. Until our Adar showed us how he had been suffering as well.” He frowned. “I don’t think we realized what havoc we played on everyone else’s emotions until Adar showed.”

“So you think it is possible that Legolas doesn’t even really know what pain he is causing us?” Miriwen asked quietly.

“Yes.” Elrohir nodded. “I think it is very possible. But…” He directed a faint smile towards the woodland king. “That doesn’t answer your question really.”

Thranduil chuckled, despite the rather dark mood that had descended upon the four elves. “No not really.”

“Looking back now, I found we reacted with too much haste. We were too quick to hunt Orcs or anything that stood in our path against us. We denied the fact that our Adar needed us, as well as Arwen.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t even think we realized that they needed us as much as we needed them.”

“There was almost a feeling of instability after she left. Like something had been disrupted. Like someone had tipped or taken something off a scale that before had been perfectly balanced.” He said thoughtfully.

Thalion could not help but grin at the smug look on his Adar’s face. “Enough gloating Adar.” He said mildly. “You have made your point clear enough.”

Thranduil graced his second born son with a very smug smile. “It just shows that you never argue with your Adar, because he is usually right.”

“Usually, Adar.” Miriwen smiled, standing up and walking over to place a kiss upon his forehead. “Usually.”

“To check on the children.” Miriwen replied blandly. “Who knows what trouble they are getting into?”

“Top to the bottom?” Thranduil asked unable to hold back his laughter. It reminded him very much of another two elflings. Namely Lomion and Thalion.

“And would I be correct in assuming that it was Dawriel who suggested the race?” Thranduil asked mildly.

“Yes Adar.” Thalion replied with a longsuffering sigh. “You would be right to assume such.”

“I told you that get a child just like you and then you would realize what I had to put up with for so many years.” Thranduil laughed.

Thalion shook his head. “It’s a shame I never heeded your warnings.” He said easily a teasing smile upon his lips.

Thranduil stood and placed a kiss upon his second born son’s brow. “Indeed it is.” He teased. “Now, I must be going. I’m sure Legolas is asking for me.”

Thalion laughed lightly. “Of that there is little doubt.” He sobered. “He always did prefer you above everyone else.”

Nibbling on an apple, Lomion idly flipped through a book about healing. Legolas had been peacefully sleeping for a few hours and showed no signs of waking soon, but Lomion knew how quick his little brother could wake.

The door softly opened letting in Thranduil, who smiled at his youngest son’s figure and then at his oldest son.

He poured himself a small glass of wine and sat down. Perhaps Legolas was breaking through many of the walls he had erected around his tender heart.

Legolas shifted restlessly, drawing the attention of his Adar and oldest brother to him, but settled down after wrapping his hand around a handful of the blanket.

Lomion waited until Legolas was once more still and then stood up. “I need to see how Lainiel is doing.” He whispered. “I’ll be back later tonight.”

Thoughtfully swirling his wine in his glass, Thranduil absently took a sip. In talking to Elrohir and Thalion he had only become even more convinced that Legolas had first become more vulnerable to emotional hurts when his Naneth forsook him. Now, he had only to figure out how to mend that hidden wound without Legolas or Lalaith looking.

He smiled. Though Legolas probably didn’t realize it, he shared many characteristics with his Naneth.

Although Thranduil would be the first to admit that Legolas had more than one of his own characteristics as well. Stubbornness, a quick temper, as well as a quick smile and there was that rather sneaky business of trying to hide wounds that he had passed along to all of his children, not just Legolas. Legolas however was the only one who had been wounded so many times that hiding wounds had become almost like a joke to the Thranduillion family. Except for a few times when the only way they had found out about Legolas’ wounds was when he had collapsed in the midst of something, then of course it wasn’t funny anymore.

Legolas shifted slightly letting out a soft sigh, his right hand groping the covers for something or rather someone else’s hand.

Quietly standing and moving to the chair next to the bed, Thranduil carefully let his youngest son find his hand.

Instantly Legolas settled down. After a few moments of quiet, Legolas sighed again and slowly opened his eyes.

“I’m rather surprised you are the only one here.” Legolas commented lightly, forcing his upper body up. He cast a quick look around the room. “Where are all the rest of my siblings?” He questioned, quirking his eyebrow. “I was half expecting them to be hovering over me as I woke up.”

Thranduil laughed. “No I convinced them to wait to poke and prod you until we get home.”

“Nice try bratling.” Tasari spoke of from the doorway. He had snuck in after Legolas had looked around the room. “You couldn’t get away from us even if you went back to Middle Earth and hid in a cave.”

Legolas scowled. “Everyone was happier when you were in Mandos.” He glared, though a smile played on his lips letting his Ada and brother know he was teasing.

“So was I.” Tasari shot back. “I wasn’t pulling my hair out worrying about you.”

“Well your hair must grow back awfully fast for it to look like that.” Legolas retorted.

Thranduil sighed. That was another thing he had passed to all of his children as well. A quick tongue sharpened by a quick mind.

Fortunately a few of his children had also received a double dose of patience from their Naneth’s side. Unfortunately the two in front of him had been given less than a single dose.

“Shouldn’t the person who started it finish it?” Legolas queried, a smile upon his lips.

“No, the person who started it can’t finish it because the person who started it, started it and shouldn’t have to finish it.” Tasari quipped.

“Well the person who should finish it should be the one who started it because the person who started it is at fault for starting it, so he should be the one to finish it.” Legolas grinned.

Thranduil shook his head in mild exasperation, but couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips. Gandalf’s words from many years ago crossed his mind. ‘Never ask an elf for an answer, for they will say both yea and nay in one breath.’

“Well it depends on who you think started it.” Tasari said. “Now I think you started it because you said something that provoked me into answering you.”

“Well if you hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have had to answer to whatever I said.” Legolas retorted. “Besides, it was your own choice to say something when you didn’t have to say anything. So you are the one who started it, so you are the one who should finish it.”

“Well I don’t think I should have to finish something that you started so I think you should finish.” Tasari quirked an eyebrow quizzically waiting for his little brother to respond to his challenge.

Thranduil laughed. He had not realized how much he had missed the game of words between his two youngest sons.

He looked at the two grinning faces before him. “You two.” He said in mock exasperation.

Legolas only laughed and reaching precariously towards his Ada, tilting his upper body off of the bed and wrapping his arms around the sitting figure. “What would you do without us?”

“I could actually get somewhere besides listening to you two exchange words.” Thranduil shook his head; his hands easily making sure that the rest of Legolas’ body did not tumble off the bed.

Tasari laughed. He had always loved the easy camaraderie when he was around his Adar. “Then you would just get Thalion and Lomion arguing about something else.”

“Your Adar was in a rush and forgot to send for me.” She explained easily as she walked over to Legolas’ bedside.

She reached over and gave him a warm hug. “Lomion informed me of everything thus far.” She smiled.

Lalaith suppressed a smile. ‘He was so much like Thranduil.’ She thought fondly. “Thranduil.” She gained her husband’s attention. “When have you eaten last?”

Thranduil blinked. Then he smiled, it might take a little while, but he could figure when his wife was trying to leave a not so subtle hint. “Come Tasari.” He rose. “I find myself suddenly very hungry for some of Miriwen’s honey apple porridge.”

Tasari laughed, but allowed himself to be dragged away. “You behave princeling.” He called over his shoulder.

Lalaith smiled, enjoying the sound of her youngest son’s laughter. It had been too long since she had last heard it.

She impulsively reached out to touch Legolas’ hand. To the prince’s credit, he did not pull back from the cool hand.

Lalaith sighed quietly when Legolas did not continue. “Do you wish to talk?”

“I will not push you Legolas.” Lalaith continued. “But if you wish to talk, please know that I will also listen to you.”

“I never realized how much that word could mean before I came here.” Legolas began quietly. “The only thing I knew growing up was that every other elfling had one and I didn’t.”

“I hated you for so long.” Legolas revealed. “I couldn’t understand why you would leave me.” He hesitated. “I still don’t know why.”

“I was jealous of Lomion, Thalion, Loriel, Lothgil, Tasari… Even Adar.” Legolas confessed.

“They all knew you. They would tell me story after story about you, but I couldn’t remember you. Your face faded from my memory. Your voice was just another I could barely remember. I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t hear you. I didn’t know you. I don’t know you.”

“I always hated the fact that you could leave but still be alive.” Legolas finally said after a few moments of silence. “Aragorn.” He swallowed. “Aragorn left and he’s dead. They all left me and they are all dead.” He looked up. “But you left me and you’re still alive.”

There was puzzlement in his face, a question in his eyes. He did not know what the answer was that he wanted, nor did he know the question he wanted answered.

“It seems so strange.” He said quietly. “How one person can leave and still be alive, while another can leave and be dead.”

“Immortality can be a blessing and a curse.” He said soberly. He shook his head. “Immortality. It is a false word to place upon elves.”

“Because we die.” Legolas said quietly. “We die from broken hearts. Spears. Arrows. Knives. Swords. Poison. We die as many men have died.

“Live?” Legolas choked back a sob. “Do we really live? Or do we just exist.” He turned heartbroken eyes upon his Naneth. “In Middle Earth I lived. For a while, here in Valinor I lived. But now?” He shrugged helplessly. “I find that I am just surviving. Existing.”

Lalaith sat down, her arms aching to comfort, to soothe her hurting son but she resisted, not knowing how he would react.

“But when I look into the eyes of other elves, I can barely stand the pity I see. Are they sorry I have ever known mortals? Or are they sorry that they died?” Legolas shook his head angrily trying to rid himself of his tears.

“They don’t know how to act.” Lalaith said. “No one knows because no one understands.” She swallowed back her own tears. “No one has ever had a friendship such as yours. They are partly in awe, but they don’t understand it. They hear tales of your adventures and they don’t know how the story really ends.”

“It doesn’t.” Legolas said roughly. “The story doesn’t end because I am immortal.”

“Then tell them.” Lalaith pleaded. “Tell them what you saw. What you heard. What you felt. Make them understand.” She hesitated. “Otherwise I fear no one will ever understand.”

“But how many others?” Lalaith pressed. “I doubt even your Adar understands Legolas.”

“Don’t shut us out Legolas.” Lalaith said. “Just because we don’t understand now, doesn’t mean that we can’t.” She stood and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’d better get some rest.” She smiled and left.

Thranduil frowned reading the careful scrawl of his youngest son. When he had asked his wife how Legolas was doing, she had simply smiled and said nothing.

But now, reading the note and while wishing, but knowing there was nothing more he could do or say to his son, Thranduil silently gave his youngest his blessing and prayer that he would once more find his path.

Lightening flashed across the darkened sky as the heavens opened up and poured out the rain. Thunder crashed, rumbling darkly and echoing in the heart of a drenched elf, sitting by a rock face, his knees drawn to his chest.

‘The rain suited his mood just fine.’ He thought bitterly. Tears slid silently down the pale cheeks, mixing in with the pouring rain. His heart ached, a slow pang that never seemed to stop, never seemed to go faster and never went slower. It stayed there. Beating in tune with his heart.

He stood with one fluid move, letting the rain pound at his slender frame. He tilted his face to the sky, loving the feel of rain hitting his face. The shiver of cold wetness numbed his skin, but oh how he wished it would numb his heart.

His eyes slid shut, tears forced from the corners. How he hated the warmth of his tears, it meant that he still lived. ‘Lived?’ His mind scoffed. ‘He didn’t live. He just existed. An empty shell holding a hurting heart.’

“WHY!” He screamed, choking back his sobs. “Why don’t you take me? Can’t you see my suffering? Can’t you see my pain? Why am I left here?”

The storm lightened and slowly passed, but Legolas remained on his knees, unaware of his surroundings.

‘Are you moping again Legolas?” Gimli’s voice scaled through time. ‘I never realized elves moped so much.’

“Watch your tongue master dwarf.” Legolas replied condescendingly. “I do not mope.”

“I wish I could take all of his fears Aragorn.” Another memory. Accidentally eavesdropping on a conversation between Frodo and Aragorn. “There are times when he looks so lost. I almost wish he had never come. That he would have never stepped forward.”

“He would have had to face the sea sooner or later, Frodo.” Aragorn replied softly.

“But he is still so young in Elven terms.” Frodo protested. “I would have him live a longer life here on Middle Earth.”

Legolas had often pondered the somber words. He never understood them until he had reached the Valinor and was forced to face yet again the pain of loosing his beloved friends.

His safe guard, the place that he thought that death could not come to had come and torn his already fragile heart into pieces. He had known that death would happen in Middle Earth, but he would have never imagined it in Valinor.

But yet it had. It had come silently, stealing his friends away. No outcry had been made, for they had not been given a choice to remain or leave.

He stood suddenly, surprising the world around him. His fists were tightly clenched. Drops of water fell easily to the already soaked ground. His blonde hair was plastered to his head, but he cared not. His leggings were filthy from kneeling in the muddy ground, but he was unaware of it.

He had brought no extra clothes with him, no food to eat, no water to drink, nothing.

The wind rustled the treetops, sending the leaves into complete disarray. The wind tugged at his loose tunic, sending a chill down the elf’s back. Pushing aside wet hair, Legolas slowly trudged onward.

His feet carried him to that secret place where no other elf had ever gone except him. The trees blurred by him as he ran faster and faster.

He had made several torches to light on an instant notice, providing the flint worked. His hands were shaking, he noticed rather distantly. It was if he was watching himself do everything.

He struck once. Twice. Took a rattled deep breath and tried again. The flint sparked and immediately Legolas gently blew on the tiny sparks until they became hotter and soon the torch was afire.

Grabbing two others he quickly stood up then crumbled to the ground as the world spun around him. He blinked several times at the six torches that had been suddenly lit and then only one focused.

He swallowed back the nausea in that back of his throat and slowly stood again. This time the world stayed where it was supposed to and he pressed on. Twisting and turning along the hidden path, Legolas’ steps were sure as he ducked underneath the low ceiling of rock and twisted his body this way and that as he went deeper into the cave.

How long he pressed forward, he did not know. All he knew was the beating of his heart, the torch in his hand and the echoes casting their eerie sounds along the path.

The torch sputtered, but Legolas paid it no mind. He had come along this path that he did not even need the torch, and his mind was so consumed with thoughts that he didn’t even really pay attention to where his feet placed him.

The torch suddenly died. With a curse Legolas flung it away, but pressed on, his eyes needing no light to guide him.

The darkness seemed to cling to him. The shadows whispered tauntingly in his ears.

If there was something there, he could not see it. For even his Elven eyes could not pierce the utter darkness surrounding him.

“Do not hate me for dying, Legolas.” The whisper echoed along the darkened path. “Love me for living.”

He broke into the large chamber that cast an eerie green glow upon the rocks surrounding him.

He had made statues of all his friends here. Of Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, Eowyn, Eomer, Lothiriel, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Sam, Gimli, Boromir… There were hundreds within the large cavern.

“Oh Legolas.” Aragorn’s statue seemed to move, but it was not the statue that moved, it was a transparent figure of Aragorn standing before him.

Tears spilled down the dirtied cheeks. Grabbing a long metal bar, he screamed and began to destroy the beautiful statues he had so lovingly created in memory of his friends.

The stone shattered beneath the metal bar in his hands. Aragorn’s smile disappeared as the metal bar disfigured it.

“I hate you!” Legolas screamed. His hands stung from the vibrations off the metal but he paid it no mind.

Soon the cave was filled with chunks of elaborately carved stone. Faces were disfigured, arms were smashed into pieces, and one statue after the other fell victim to his hatred.

His breath came in gasps as he slowly crumbled to the floor, the bar falling weakly from his grasp. He buried his face in his hands as he cried out his agony.

This would end here. He would live or he would die. He would no longer just exist. His fate would be decided in the green glow of a ruined cavern.

Legolas swallowed and slowly stood. Walking carefully to the entrance he looked out.

There was a large green pasture with apple trees in full abundance scattered every which way. He saw his beloved mortal friends sitting comfortably around a large picnic blanket with food scattered here and there.

“Pippin! I told you not to eat all the scones!” Arwen scolded the hobbit.

“Oh don’t mind him Arwen.” Merry said laughing. “He’s got two empty legs to fill yet.”

Aragorn grinned, his pipe in his mouth as he regarded his friends with a happy sparkle in his eye.

“Aye lads.” Gimli growled. “Enough of that or you’ll poke someone’s eye out.”

Tears formed and spilled down the cheeks, making a clean path amidst the dirt. “Gimli.” Legolas whispered. “Aragorn.”

Both looked up as though they had heard their names actually being called. Then looked at each other and gave a wistful smile.

“I hope his life is happy.” Aragorn commented lightly. There was no mistaking who he was talking about.

“He is surrounded by his family Aragorn.” Boromir said setting Pippin down. “He used to tell me so many stories about his family.”

“But it was his friends who knew him the best after Aragorn was crowned king.” Gimli rumbled, sitting back his pipe fixed in his mouth as well.

“Legolas is strong.” Faramir interjected. “I’m sure he is just fine.”

“I shall never forget when I saw him first saddle that stallion.” Eomer said quietly. “We all called him a fool for wanting a horse such as that after Arod died.”

‘If elves could die of a broken heart.’ Legolas thought. ‘He was well on his way.’

“In Valinor he can live as an elf was meant to live. In Middle Earth he rarely knew peace. He was always fighting, always protecting someone or something. He never looked to his own needs, but always placed us before him.” Frodo said quietly. “But in Valinor perhaps he will find a wife, have a few elflings and then tell his children of us.”

Laughter broke out. “Perhaps.” Aragorn said, he gazed thoughtfully at his surroundings. “Perhaps.”

The light faded and Legolas found himself, once more alone in the cold green glow.

He cast a glance at the ruined statues and with a new determination, he rose to his feet. He went to the weakest points in the cavern and taking the metal bar into his hands, he took a deep breath and swung with all his might.

“Adar?” Lomion questioned, uneasily looking towards the far distant mountains.

Thranduil said nothing, but felt his heart sink. Legolas was out there somewhere.

It was Elrond. He was hurrying forward a worried look on his face. “I’ve just received news that a few elves saw Legolas heading in that direction.”

Sudden terror froze his blood. Every thought but that of Legolas drained from his mind.

When at last huge chunks of rock fell from the ceiling, he turned and ran out the entrance.

He could hear the thump of the boulders falling around him, but his only focus was of that of the entrance.

Flinging rope across his shoulder and grabbing a shovel and pick, Thranduil turned to face his wife.

Thranduil blinked, surprised at the words. He looked at her; she was dressed in male’s clothing, leggings and short tunic. Her hair was twisted simply in a bun, a few stray strands escaping. She looked every inch the beautiful ellyth he had fallen in love with at first sight.

He nodded, finding no words in his heart to deny her. “Come.” He said simply, holding out his hand.

“Don’t forget me.” Merry’s last words echoed in his heart. “Don’t forget me.”

“Crazy elf!” Gimli shouted across time, across worlds. “Are ye’ trying to get yourself killed?”

Despite himself Legolas grinned. “No.” He coughed again. “No Gimli. I am not trying to get myself killed. Just out of here.”

He could almost see Aragorn’s worried face above him. Waiting to poke and prod him to make sure of any injuries that Legolas would try to hide.

Then the faces changed, and instead of seeing Aragorn’s face, he saw that of his Adar’s.

“Legolas! Guess what I did today?” His nieces and nephews piling on him eager to tell their beloved uncle the day’s events.

He struggled forward, the debris impending his movements. Panic edged his vision. “I don’t want to die.” He thought terrified.

He pushed through some rocks to find open air. He was still in the cave, how far in he still was he didn’t know, but if he could find the path again he would hopefully be able to easily find his way back out.

He bent over, placing his hands on his knees and taking a deep breath coughed as much dust from his lungs and spat it out.

He gingerly ran his hands over his body, looking for any injuries. He found many bruises, but nothing serious.

Blinking quickly, he felt around with his foot to find any sort of pathway to guide him out.

The path that he had helped create had been a small one. Only one elf at a time could fit through the passage.

Stepping forward cautiously, he was not surprised slam his head on a low rock ledge, but he was surprised when his feet suddenly slid forward and he landed on his back, blinking at the stars that suddenly appeared in his vision.

He groaned, the sound echoing in the damp cave. Pushing himself upwards, he felt a trickle of warm blood slid down his face. Grimacing, he wiped it away and stood. Carefully regaining his balance, he started forward again.

‘Thank the Valar Legolas had decided to move after the rain had stopped.’ Thranduil thought, as he literally flew along the easy path that Legolas had made.

Broken twigs lay scattered about amidst the muddy ground. Leaves were pulled from their branches and there were several branches that had been bent and torn off.

The clear path only in intensified Thranduil’s worry, and he could easily read the worry on his three other son’s faces as well as his wife’s.

Legolas dearly loved ‘his’ trees and to see them so torn was shocking, especially since Legolas had been the one who had made the disarray.

Legolas smiled at the memory of entering another cave, a different place and a different time.

“Ha.” Gimli retorted. “You can’t fool me elf. I know you’re scared.”

“I am not!” Legolas defended himself, but his actions proved otherwise as he edged ever so closer to the dwarfs stout frame.

“The only protection I need is from your stench.” Legolas desperately tried to wrap his mind around something other than the cold darkness surrounding him. Their torch had ‘accidentally’ gone out, or so Gimli said. “Did you even take a bath this morning?”

“Stench!” Gimli growled, all to easily letting himself be pulled into the taunt. He knew exactly what Legolas was doing. “I thought that was you.” He sniffed suspiciously.

“Aye laddie.” Gimli agreed, but his hand strayed to his axe tucked behind his back. “A mouse.”

Gimli grinned, seeing a very juicy moment for a trick. “Oh I don’t know. Some mice are big…” He paused dramatically. “But then again there are rats down here too.”

“Aye.” He agreed with himself. “What do you think cleans all the orc carcasses?”

“What orc carcasses?” Legolas whispered, his hands instinctively going to his blades.

Pretending to slip, Gimli latched onto Legolas’ arm. “Oops!” He cried out. “I’m sorry laddie. I must have just tripped on something.” He grinned, having felt Legolas jump in surprise.

“If we ever get out of here I am going to introduce you to my pets at home.” Legolas threatened weakly.

They had survived, thankfully. But he had sworn never to go into any cave with out a torch. Yet here he was. Trapped in a cold, no wait. That was because his clothes were still damp. Or was it?

He felt his clothes. There were slightly damp, but not enough to really chill him.

Disclaimer: Own nothing of Lord of the Rings, New Line Cinema, any characters, J.R.R. Tolkien, etc..

You have been drifting for so long
I know you don't want to come down
Somewhere below you, there’re people who love you
And they're ready for you to come home
Please come home

“Adar?” Lomion spoke up softly, as they hurried forward on the clear trail that Legolas had left.

Thranduil cast a helpless look over his shoulder. “I hope not, but I don’t know.” He set his gaze ahead again. “I don’t know.”

‘They had given him their blessing.’ Legolas thought wonderingly. And now… He looked behind him, and though he couldn’t see anything he could still remember the crash of the rocks around him. The statues lying in broken pieces, crumbled rocks showering around him.

It seemed strange to think of it, but his past really was buried. The life like statues he had made had always been there to remind him with a greater certainty of what had been lost and could never be replaced. But now… With the statues gone it was like a scar that had suddenly faded.

It was like he had ripped free of his chains, the pain still stung but there was a certain sense of freedom in his soul that wanted to sing out.

Immediately he flung himself down, his arms protecting against his mouth and nose.

He waited a few moments until he was sure that there was no more dirt that would come crashing down, then carefully stood.

The blood from the cut was already drying, thankfully. But it was rather annoying to feel the drying blood actually drying against his face. He didn’t want to wipe it off for fear it might start bleeding again, so he left it and continued on his way.

While he didn’t realize it, his natural Elven light had started to shine ever so brighter.

The darkness of grief had long overshadowed it, but when at last Legolas had pulled it back, the light shone all the brighter.

Easily finding the cave opening and the torches, Thranduil, Lalaith, Lomion, Thalion and Tasari quickly lit them and hurried on. Though they could not see tracks because of the stone path, there was no other path but that one.

He could very faintly see a pinprick of light shinning down. Straining forward, he could just barely hear the song of a bird trilling outside.

He knew now that somehow he had turned completely around and wasn’t heading in the same direction where the entrance was.

But he figured it wouldn’t hurt if he continued forward and if he hit a dead end then he would retrace his steps and go another way, if possible.

Kneeling, Lomion dabbed his finger in the small pool of blood. The moisture of the cave had kept it from drying quickly, so Lomion only had a vague idea of how much time had passed since Legolas had passed through.

He rubbed the sticky liquid between his fingers and his eyes narrowed. Legolas was hurt. He could easily see the bits of displaced dirt where Legolas had unsettled it.

“Adar.” He called over his shoulder. He showed Thranduil his blood covered fingers.

“I doubt it’s bad.” Lomion reassured. “There is only a small bit here.”

Thranduil sighed, shaking his head. “I am going to lock him up for a few centuries when I get my hands on him.” He said rather ruefully.

Despite the serious situation, Lalaith laughed lightly, the sound echoing in the cave. “You probably should have done that a while ago if you were going to do that.” She said.

Thalion snorted. “Legolas would have easily found a way to escape you know.” He turned an apprising eye toward his younger brother.

Tasari raised his hands pleading innocence. “I’m not the one who taught him how to pick locks.”

Lalaith laughed again. “Well I can remember a certain someone who used to pick locks to get to a certain wine when his wine keepers back was turned.”

The three brothers turned to look at their Adar, who simply chuckled. “Of course your Naneth showed him which knife to use for different sets of locks.”

“One never knows when a use such as that will come in handy.” Lalaith said unrepentant, urging her sons and husband on.

Legolas blinked, hearing the echo of laughter along the corridor. It sounded like…

He should have known that his family would come after him. The most surprising however, was that his Naneth had gone with his Adar and older brothers.

Even after all this time he was still getting used to the fact that he really did have a Naneth. A living, breathing Naneth.

Turning around he cast a look over his shoulder at the tiny light still shinning brightly. It was amazing how that tiny light had so immediately drawn his attention.

He had been stumbling around in the dark for so long, that that tiny light had given him an unlooked for hope.

Legolas’ steps faltered, then stopped as he realized the implications of his recent journey.

It had been a long since Gimli had died, but Legolas had always seemed to be stumbling around in the dark, perhaps not literally, but metaphorically.

Long had his heart and mind been dark with grief, but now he realized that a light had drawn him, the light of his family, loving him, worrying about him, giving him plenty of space to figure out life for himself.

He sank to his knees, overwhelmed at the thought. He had been chasing after his long dead friends so long that he never even realized how much pain he was causing his Elven friends and family.

Elladan and Elrohir had not only lost their adopted brother, but their beloved sister as well. They too had lost friends, perhaps they had not been as close to Eomer, Faramir and the like, but they were still friends to them.

They had known humans for far longer than Legolas had, and so it was easy to just assume that the twins could deal with death better than he could. But the death of a family member…

A slow smile spread across Thranduil’s face. And suddenly his feet moved and he was running towards his son. “I’m coming!” He shouted.

The light from a torch moving towards him brought forward more emotion than he thought possible.

Dawn broke across the night sky. The pale rose color spread it’s wings across the soft blue as the bright sun slowly came up.

Thranduil gazed at the beautiful morning, his mind for once drinking in the glorious sight without worried thoughts about Legolas.

The deep even breaths pulled him away from the window. Thranduil smiled. Even after being married for centuries to Lalaith, it still never ceased to amaze him at the love welling up within him whenever he looked at her.

One arm was tucked underneath the soft pillow while the other one grasped the light quilt on the bed. The golden hair was in complete disarray and partially hid her face from his view.

He gently reached forward and pushed aside her hair and tucked it behind her elegantly pointed ear.

She sighed, and blinked sleepily. A sleepy smile touched her lips. “Were you watching me again?” Her voice rasped from the lack of use.

Thranduil simply smiled and pressed his lips to hers. “I love you.” He whispered.

“Legolas needs to talk.” Thranduil said simply. “We’ll be back before dark.”

Legolas looked up from twirling the small cup in his hand. “Good morning Adar.” He said quietly, a smile on his face.

Placing a gentle kiss on Legolas’ forehead, Thranduil gently examined the three stitches. Though it wasn’t a serious cut, it was one that would be hard for the skin to pull itself together to heal. So Elladan, taking a needle and thread in hand quickly sewed his friend up.

Elrohir, quickly focusing on Legolas hands, noticed that the prince was clenching and unclenching his hands as if they hurt. Gently taking them into his own hands, Elrohir easily pressed the prince into telling them why they hurt.

They were all quiet for a few moments as each digested what Legolas had told them.

Lomion had entered carrying a bottle of wine and several glasses and the moment had been lost.

But now, after so much had been acted out on pure emotional adrenaline, Thranduil could see hints of regret in the blue-gray eyes.

He said nothing however, and left it up to Legolas to breech the subject if he wanted to. His little leaf was as stubborn as he was, and Thranduil had no wish to create an argument with him.

Legolas took another sip of his water. “Do you mind where we go Adar?” He questioned, idly twisting the glass in circles on the table. He studied his glass, refusing to meet his Adar’s curious glance.

“Of course not.” Thranduil responded, easily, pouring a glass of water for himself.

“Are you sure you have the time?” Legolas bit his lower lip. “I don’t want to take you away from anything you could be doing.”

Thranduil sat down and took his son’s chin in hand and forced him to look him straight in the eye. “I would spend every possible second with you that I could, Legolas.” He said quietly. “Your siblings are very strong and they also had a spouse to help them in ways I cannot, you.” He smiled. “Are still in need of your Ada.”

Legolas blushed, but his eyes clearly showed Thranduil his deep need and yearning to finally be free of the past. “How did I ever get so lucky as to have you as an Adar?” Legolas smiled.

The view was magnificent. The mountains were reflected in a clear lake. The lake looked as though it was shallow, but if you stepped in you would easily be over your head.

As the morning sun slowly edged it’s way even further in the sky, father and son sat on an out cropping of rocks, each drinking in the magnificent view, each content to dwell one their own thoughts.

Then quietly, Legolas began to speak. He told of his beginning frustrations with the other elves that they could not understand how he felt. The sharp agony when Gimli died had how he tried to force the agony away, but it only resulted in a numb heart. How the long days turned into even longer weeks. The nights of simply watching the stars instead of trying to sleep because his dreams would be plagued in remembering the laughter of years past.

How certain foods would churn his stomach because the last time he had them was when his mortal friends had surrounded him. How he would always hesitate to say anything to anyone because he feared that no one would know how he truly felt and the last thing he wanted was pity.

He had only wanted to tell a portion of his story, but now that he was there he found himself pouring out his entire heart. Nothing was spared, no emotion not realized, no thought left unsaid. His heart was laid bare and once he finished he turned a hurting, wounded heart to his Adar and quietly asked his forgiveness.

His heart filled with a peace, knowing his son would finally be alright, Thranduil took Legolas into his arms and like an elfling, Legolas cried his fears away.

There will be an epilogue. I know this is short and rather vague, but I just needed to finish this... Any questions or if you'd like to see something if I would ever update, let me know in a review.. Thanks!

Laughter danced amidst the trees as Legolas pledged his life, love and happiness to his bride. She had light brown hair and sapphire eyes that danced merrily. She had lived, protected within the safe borders of Lothlorien in Middle Earth, born only three years after Legolas had been. She too had suffered a life full of loss. Her father had died in the battle of Helm’s Deep and her mother had quickly left for the Valinor after that. Two of her brothers died in the defense of Lothlorien, and she watched her sister slowly fade from grief after her husband died. Her surviving brother had taken her sail and there he told her that he was going to live with Prince Legolas in the land of Ithilien.

She had been forced to live on her own for several years before her parents had come from the Halls of Mandos. She was well known, well respected and well liked. She made her trade by making clothes for the wealthier elves, and all of the women in Legolas’ family had often bought dresses from her.

Tawariell her name was, translated in to western it would be girl of the forest. Legolas had taken more than a few ribbings about the meaning of her name, but he took them all lightheartedly and usually with a foolish grin on his face.

They had meet quite by accident. Loriel had been behind in her party plans and had told (“Ordered actually.” Legolas would tell you) to pick up her dress from Tawariell’s. Legolas had rolled his eyes, but dutifully went as asked. (“Ordered!”)

They had quickly become friends, the two finding a lot of common ground in their own struggles. Tawariell found a home with Thranduil and Lalaith, the two easily reminding her of her own parents still in the Halls of Mandos. And much to Legolas’ delight, his parents adored her, as well as all of Legolas’ siblings.

Elladan and Elrohir took much delight in teasing their friend about Tawariell, but Legolas would simply reply. “Just wait until you find the right one for each of you.”

And so, they were married beneath the blossoming apple trees, the bride blushing as she smiled at her new husband. As the evening wore on, Thranduil snuck his youngest son away.

The crickets chirped merrily in the tall grass as father and son quietly slipped between trees and up to a secluded spot on a high cliff. A light breeze played with their blonde hair as they watched the waves crash on the rocks far below.

Legolas sighed. “As happy as I am, I still wish that Aragorn, Arwen, all of my friends were here to help celebrate.” He chuckled. “Gimli would tease me at finding Tawariell, Eomer…” Legolas blushed.

Thranduil laughed. He could remember well the blonde haired Horse lord. There was a wry recklessness in Eomer’s blue eyes that had reminded Thranduil of a certain few of his children.

“Arwen, Ewoyn and the other ladies would have helped Tawariell with the wedding plans.” Legolas sighed. “But, the past is still the past, and as much as I wish it were different, I am glad that I at least still have my family by my side.”

Thranduil simply smiled as he held his youngest to his chest, a secretive smile that held a world of promise. But, unfortunately for Legolas, who didn’t see the smile, the secret would remain as that. A secret. Kept in four immortal hearts, and begging to be released.

A/N: I never thought I would ever marry off Legolas... But it seemed, well right you could say. :-) Hopefully it won't offend to many people...

Mortal Memories by LOTRFaith