Chapter Sixteen

Legolas took a deep breath and unwound his arms. He pulled his body forward over his legs and rose up on his bare feet. The elf felt a moment of lightheadedness, but it wasn't enough to cause him to lose his balance, so he forced himself to ignore it. He particularly didn't want Estel to notice, or the man would try to convince him to go back to bed. At the least, he would have done his best to keep Legolas in his room.

When Estel also rose, Legolas said, "I must talk with my father. I have to get things settled with him first of all. This business with Mordraug cannot be dealt with properly, as long as tension hangs between us."

"Are you sure you're ready for that right now? You're not as steady on your feet, as you would have me believe."

So much for hiding his brief dizziness. The elf wasn't really surprised by Estel's remark. As a ranger, he had honed his skills of observation to a fine art. He had to. His life and that of others often depended on it, therefore little got by the ranger. Legolas was grateful his friend hadn't said more, so the elf just nodded in response to Aragorn’s question. "I have to be." He gave his friend a small smile of reassurance. "I will be all right, Estel." Then, he remembered the verbal exchange they had had in the forest, so he added, "And, it is not because of stubborn pride that I say this."

That remark brought a smile to the man's face. He gripped Legolas's shoulder, noting that, though lessened, tremors still ran through the elf's body. He decided not to comment on it. Getting into a verbal battle of wills with Legolas as fragile as he currently was would only cause more stress for him. His friend didn't need the aggravation. It was best to trust him and let him do whatever he felt he needed to do without an argument. Aragorn would just keep himself near to offer support, if and when it was needed.

"Do not be concerned, Estel. I will be with my father." Legolas turned and left the balcony.

*That's what worries me,* the man said to himself, knowing full well where Legolas's stubbornness came from. On more than one occasion, he had been witness to a battle of wills between Thranduil and his youngest son.

Legolas stopped in his room long enough to change shirts, discarding the rumpled blue one he had slept in and exchanging it for a fresh dove gray one. He then put on his soft suede shoes.

When the elf finished dressing, Aragorn called his name. "Legolas."

The elf turned and faced his friend. "Yes?"

With a grin, Aragorn said, "I saw the rabbit. I knew you wouldn't have come back to camp empty-handed."

Legolas appreciated the ranger's comment. He smiled and nodded, then turned and headed for the door, which was beyond Aragorn’s line of sight.

Aragorn heard no footsteps, of course, but he did hear the bolt on the door being pulled back. The door closed quietly, leaving the ranger alone to ponder all that Legolas had told him. He shivered at the mere thought of it. He also unconsciously put his hand up to his mouth. When he realized he had done it, he pulled it away and made a face like he had just eaten a bitter piece of fruit. He was glad he hadn't done that in Legolas's presence, though he doubted the elf would have faulted him for it.

Thinking again on the story, Aragorn knew that no words could describe the trauma such an experience must have caused Legolas. No wonder he was trembling. Aragorn felt that if that had happened to him, he probably wouldn't even be able to put two words together in a coherent thought. He once again admired his friend's strength of will.

He wondered if it was the venom itself that had sent the elf into a deep coma, or if Legolas's mind had driven his consciousness deep inside himself to protect him from the memory of what had been done to him. He would have to ask Elrond what he knew of it or at the least, his thoughts on the subject. His own idea was that it was probably both, though the venom held the edge. It was a thought that made him very nervous. He couldn't explain why he believed there was more heartache ahead---but he did.

Aragorn knew there was nothing more he could do while standing on the balcony, yet he found that he couldn't pull himself away, as his eye was drawn to the garden. He walked back to the railing and stood, watching the leaves on the trees gently swaying in the early morning breeze. It moved across the balcony, caressing his skin like a cool breath. He closed his eyes and held his face to the sun. Right here, right now his body felt calm and relaxed. So, why did his heart always seem to exist on the edge? He decided it was the state of the world he had to live in. Would evil ever leave them in peace in his lifetime?

~*~*~

Legolas walked down the hallway toward the room where he knew his father was staying while in Rivendell. He paused briefly in front of the large oak door. This was going to be difficult, and he didn't feel the least bit like having the kind of confrontation with Thranduil that he knew was coming, but it had to be done. He had meant what he told Estel. The business with Mordraug couldn't be dealt with properly, if there was tension remaining between him and his father.

With a deep sigh, Legolas knocked on the door. At first there was no answer. So, the young elf knocked again. There was still no answer. Along with the next knock, Legolas called out, "Ada. It is me."

It took no more that three seconds for the door to open. Thranduil's tall, lean yet muscular form stood in the doorway. The king regarded his son. The expression on his face was one that Legolas could not read. "May I come in?" he asked politely, after receiving no encouragement to do so from the elder elf.

Thranduil just nodded and stepped aside, so Legolas could enter the room. It was a room befitting a king. Half again as large as Legolas's own, it was decorated in white and gold. One end of the room was dominated by a large canopied bed and the opposite end contained a large fireplace surrounded by a sofa and several chairs. The pieces of furniture were plush and their wooden frames ornately carved. It was all much too elaborate for Legolas's simple tastes, but he had grown up with similar ostentation. knowing his father relished such luxurious decor.

The younger elf walked to the center of the room and then turned to face the elder elf. Legolas bowed is head and crossed his right arm over his chest, his fist over his heart. He held the pose for several seconds.

Thranduil was only mildly put out by the gesture. It was usually only performed by family members during very formal occasions. He certainly did not require it of his blood kin in private. Legolas had been doing that in similar circumstances most of his life. The King knew Legolas hadn't done it to hurt him. It was just his son's way of showing that things between them were not on a comfortable footing. It exasperated the king, but as always, he just accepted the gesture, since he had long ago forgone any comment on it. Thranduil sighed. This was not going to be easy.

Legolas's respectful recognition of his sovereign executed, the young elf lowered his arm and raised his head. Forgetting the elf before him was his King, Legolas now saw only his father. "We have to talk."

The two were now simply father and son and not king and subject, so Thranduil directed Legolas to the sofa. After the younger elf sat down on one end of it, Thranduil sat down next to him. They faced each other.

"I wish to apologize to you, Legolas," the woodland king began. "I have done much thinking on what transpired between us last evening."

"Do you think that an apology will make things right?"

"Not entirely. I certainly hope it will be a beginning." The King's voice was soft yet clear and strong.

"Why did you keep the manner of Naneth's death a secret from me all these years? Did I not deserve to know the truth?" Legolas's voice was anything but soft. It was louder than normal and tinged with anger.

"As I told you last evening, I did it to protect you."

"And, I told you that keeping secrets was not the way to protect me." Legolas stared straight into his father's blue-gray eyes so like his own.

Guilt and regret may have dominated Thranduil's emotions, but he did not flinch from his son's stern gaze. He was a king and never backed away from any situation, no matter how unpleasant.

"Tell me, Legolas, how would knowing the manner of your Naneth's death have done you any good? Would knowing the truth have allowed you to sleep better at night? Would it have made your remembrances of her fonder?" Thranduil did not want to be harsh in what he said, but it was the only thing that he knew to say to try and get his son to understand his motives.

Legolas shook his head. "No. It would not. Yet, you have always taught us that truth is its own reason for being and that truth, in the end, transcends any sadness or heartache that it may cause. You did not trust me to handle the truth. Why did you not follow your own teachings?"

"Believe me, Legolas, it was never a matter of trust. In this circumstance, I let my heart rule my head. I love you more than you can possibly imagine, and I had hoped to spare you such heartache. I admitted last evening that I was wrong, and I admit it again right now." It was only now that the sorrow Thranduil felt in his heart could be read in his expression.

Legolas felt for his father. He truly did, but there was one more thing he had to know. "Did my brothers and sisters know the truth?"

"Yes." Thranduil paused, and it was then that Legolas recognized that the word ‘yes’ that his father had just said sounded so much like the ‘yes’ Estel had said earlier, when he had admitted to Legolas that he had been feeling guilty, because he felt his decision in the forest had led to Mordraug's attack. If not for the difference in the voices themselves, Legolas wouldn't have been able to tell which one had spoken.

With a small start, Legolas realized that his father had continued with the explanation. "They were much older. You were but a young elfling."

"And, the secret could easily be kept from me."

A nod confirmed Legolas's reasoning. In his own defense, Thranduil said, "I did try to tell you several times, when you were older, but I never could bring myself to do it. I just wanted to forget the horror of it and remember her the way she had been during our life together. It is hard to let one event, no matter how deeply wrenching, ruin the memory of so many centuries of happiness. For you it was different. You had only a little time with her. I did not want the few memories you held tainted with the horror of what happened. I would do it differently today, but I cannot change the past." This explanation was the best way Thranduil knew to express his reasons for what he had done.

Tears sprang to Thranduil's eyes then, but he refused to let them fall. The one thing he did not want to do was let his tears sway Legolas. His son had to forgive him or not based on Legolas's feelings about what his father had just told him and not on emotional display, however unwanted and unintended it was.

The elder Wood elf watched Legolas's face closely and saw the various emotions playing across his handsome features. He thought, as he often did, of how beautiful Legolas was, even among a race of beautiful beings. He also marveled again that his Little One had a heart and soul to match.

Thranduil knew how upsetting it would be if this precious child that he had raised and loved with all his heart could never forgive him. He tried so hard not to think that a foolish, though well-intentioned, decision he had made so very many years ago could come back to break his heart now. He waited, almost afraid to hear what Legolas would say.

Legolas had listened to everything his father had said. He also watched the King's face and body language very closely. Thranduil was basically honest and straightforward. However, as a king, he had found that on occasion it was prudent to be less than forthright in some of his dealings with those from other realms. It was a necessary game that Thranduil felt he was sometimes forced to play to protect Mirkwood. After thousands of years of doing it, he had become quite good at it.

Legolas knew his father very well. He was one of the few who could tell when Thranduil was being genuine and when he had what Legolas called his ‘Kingly Mask' in place. It was a mask Thranduil virtually never used when dealing with his own people. One thing Legolas knew for certain: no matter what game Thranduil played, once he had given his word, he kept it.

Legolas saw no deception in the elder elf before him. His father had truly spoken from his heart. He also hadn't missed the misty eyes his father had tried so hard to hide. Without a word being spoken, Legolas reached out and wrapped his arms around his father’s shoulders. "I love you, Ada, and I forgive what you did."

Thranduil returned the embrace. It was only then that the elven King let the tears roll down his cheeks. His son had forgiven him. Nothing in all the world right then could have given him more joy. There would be many that knew the King of Mirkwood as temperamental, difficult and fierce, who would be very surprised, if they could have see him at that moment.

After a moment spent in the silence, Legolas pulled away. He made no remark about the tears he saw on his father's face. "Let us go down to breakfast together."

"I would like nothing better," Thranduil said with a large smile.

Legolas got up from the sofa and started toward the door. He paused when his father said, "I have to put on a robe a little more formal than this." He swept his hand down the front of his clothing. "Wait for me in the hall. I will join you shortly."

The young elf smiled. His father was already wearing a robe fine enough to impress most people, but it did not satisfy Thranduil. Legolas knew that his father also needed to dry his tear-stained face. He nodded and left the room.

Legolas walked out into the hall and stood and waited for his father to join him. He had forgiven Thranduil and had no intention of dwelling on what he considered a closed subject. He couldn't keep a smile from crossing his face. It felt good to get that settled. In truth, it would have broken his heart, as well, to be at odds with his Ada much longer.

Such were his thoughts, when unbidden, the dream and the snake's attack sprang to the forefront of his mind. Most times he was good at forcing unpleasant thoughts from his consciousness and ignoring them for as long as he needed to. This wasn't going to one of those times. It was just too traumatic to stay hidden for long. The settling of the difficulty between himself and his father had allowed for the more intense thoughts to spring forward.

As if triggered by the memory, a searing, white hot pain exploded through his whole body. It was so sudden that his knees buckled and it forced the air from his lungs.

He soon found himself on his hands and knees, head hanging down, panting for breath. During his long life, he had sustained wounds, burns, broken bones, animal bites and other types of injuries, all of which had been painful. However, this pain was unlike any he had ever experienced before. Agony had blasted through every fiber of his being all at once. Every nerve in his body was screaming. It felt as if he was being consumed by flames.

TBC