Chapter 4: Found

“Bregolas has found a trail!”

The word was passed from searcher to searcher, reaching Thranduil as he crossed the bridge in front of the palace doors.  He instinctively quickened his pace, his shoulder brushing against Lathron’s, and together they flew to where the trail had been found.  Thranduil was mildly surprised at the number of elves who respectfully stepped out of his way, but then realized he was so focused on his sons, he failed to consider that all of his people would come out in search of a missing child. 

While it seemed to take an eternity to catch up to Bregolas, in reality scarce time had passed when they came upon the barely visible figures of the lead scouts.  Bregolas and Rawien were carefully examining the brush and trees for signs of the trail.

“The trail has been clearly marked,” said Bregolas, rising to acknowledge his father and brother’s approach.  “But it wanders. The good news is that it means Legolas probably did not go as far as he thinks might have. Tinánia might not realize it either.”

“Is there any other reason that Tinánia might have left this trail?” asked Lathron suddenly.

“I do not think so,” called Ethiwen from behind them.  “She was expected home to bathe and change and go to the feast.”

Thranduil felt his heart lift with the knowledge that Legolas was likely not alone. He stopped, allowing Bregolas and Rawien to continue their tracking, and turned his thought to the forest once more.   The forest here was peaceful, despite the storm. He felt next for Legolas, and was surprised to sense that his spirit was calm as well.  Warmth spread through him, and his heart was eased.

* * *

Tinánia had drifted into a light sleep when a sound caught her attention. A long stick was thrust through their shelter wall, but no accompanying words offering identification or introduction were offered.  She felt her heart jump into her throat, and she carefully rose, laying Legolas in the warm spot where they had been sitting, and then pulling an arrow from her quiver and nocking it in her bow.  Grunts of someone digging could be heard, and Tinánia determined that whoever was invading them was not an animal, yet she feared speaking to the person, too.  Just as she determined she would call to this person to stop, a large hat thrust through the opening.

“Daro!” she cried, pulling the arrow back.

The head rose, a crushed but pointed hat now visible on top of bushy hair and a bushy beard on the face.  Kindly blue eyes twinkled at her, and then the being laughed.  “My cave is already inhabited, and by elves!” he laughed in Sindarin. He watched her carefully for a moment, then said, “I have seen you before, child, and you have seen me, I think. I am Mithrandir, and you are . .. hmm… Tinánia, I think, daughter of Urithral.”

“Mithrandir!” she replied, lowering her arrow as a sigh of relief escaped her. “You should really announce your presence when breaking into a snow cave,” she chastised him.

Mithrandir laughed, then withdrew, and soon he tossed his large pack through the opening and then crawled in himself.   He patched up the opening as best he could, and then seated himself across from Tinánia, pulling off his soaked hat. He leaned to one side, and then motioned at her.  “And who is this you are hiding behind you?”

Tinánia turned and lifted Legolas into her arms, then seated herself back down against the kindly oak and wrapped her cloak around Legolas again. He had not awakened, but he did again feel cold.  “He is cold again,” she said disagreeably.  “I should not have put him down.”

Mithrandir lifted his shaggy eyebrows into his shaggy hair. “Neither of you looks dressed to be out in this storm,” he noted.  He began rummaging in his pack.

“We did not intend to be out in the storm,” replied Tinánia curtly, annoyed that he would think they had done this on purpose.

“Elves do not let their children wander far from them,” said Mithrandir, more kindly. “What is the king’s son doing so far from the palace?”  He pulled a blanket from his pack, unfolding it and tossing it over her and Legolas.

“He was upset by something another child said and he ran into the woods.  The snow came and he was lost.  I saw a footprint and decided to follow, though I did not know whom I followed until I found him,” she admitted, situating the blanket comfortably.

“Then I should expect to be found by warriors of the Woodland Realm,” laughed Mithrandir.  “Good. I look forward to sleeping in a warm bed.” He raised a brow at her unexpectedly and she laughed.

“Yes, I left a good trail.  I do not think they will let darkness stop their search.  They do not know I am with him, and they will fear for him,” she answered.

“If you ventured into the storm unprepared, then I will guess you do not have food,” said Mithrandir.

“No, I am sorry,’ replied Tinánia.  “But this is the eve of Yule, and there was to be a feast tonight.  There will be plenty left when we return.”

Mithrandir laughed. “I was thinking of your hunger, child, not my own.”  He rummaged about in his pack again, pulling forth various small packages. “Wake your young friend.”

Tinánia hesitated, trying to decide if she wished to wake Legolas when he was so comfortably sleeping, but Mithrandir laughed loudly again and Legolas stirred in her arms. She sighed, exasperated. She did not recall the wizard being so loud.

“He will be fine, little naneth,” teased Mithrandir. 

Legolas sat up yawning, and his eyes fell suddenly on the very large bearded old man sitting just a few feet from him.  They widened in surprise, and he gripped Tinánia’s tunic tightly for a moment, but then curiosity overcame his reticence. 

“Greetings, Legolas,” boomed the wizard, “We were just thinking of having some dinner.  Are you hungry?”

Legolas sat speechless for a moment, then suddenly began digging in his cloak.  He pulled out a handful of treat bags and then reached back in two more times, until he had all of them. “I have treats!” he announced.  He looked closely at Mithrandir.  “Who are you? Wait, I know you.”  He tapped his finger thoughtfully against his cheek.  “Mif…”

“Mithrandir,” Tinánia finished for him.  “You met him when you were small.”

“He is still small,” noted the wizard with a snort.

Legolas glared at him for a moment. “I am not that small,” he argued. “Adar says I have grown lots.”

“You are very small compared to me, and very young.  But that is no fault of your own.  Everyone is young and small once,” replied Mithrandir, now intent on unwrapping and distributing his goods.  He peered into one of Legolas’s treat bags. “Ah, sweets.  These I favor.”

“You had stones and you made them change colors,” announced Legolas.  He glanced at Mithrandir’s pack, his interest rising.  “Do you still have them?”

“No tricks or toys until after dinner,” answered Mithrandir, swatting at the small hand that was reaching surreptitiously to his pack.  “Here, eat.”

“Your stick is glowing,” said Legolas suddenly.  Tinania looked at the wizard’s staff and realized it was glowing.   She felt her cheeks redden as she realized she had not noticed that they had had some light until now, or that the cave seemed warmer. 

“Very observant,” said Mithrandir, cocking his head to one side as he looked at the elfling.  Legolas grinned, then at the wizard’s motion, began to eat what had been provided.

When they had finished, Legolas distributed the treats, chattering on about Yule and how he had hung so many of the bags in the trees and this year even Emlin would be able to reach one.

“Emlin is Tathiel’s baby,” Legolas informed Mithrandir.

Mithrandir smiled and looked at Tinánia, who nodded.  “Emlin is two summers now,” she added, and she thought he looked pleased by this. He leaned back, loosening the belt of his long robe slightly.

“Not your ideal Yule celebration, but not bad either,” he commented.

Tinánia looked at the glow emitting from the staff, and in her mind she saw a tiny candle. It had provided very little light in the cave, but they had celebrated Yule, with baby Legolas in his little booties, crawling about, and they had the food the Watcher had provided, and they sang the songs that they knew were being sung at home, and they knew that they were not forgotten.  They knew candles were lit for them as well, candles meant to symbolically guide them home.  It was one of their favorite memories of the winter spent in the cave.  “No, not bad either,” she agreed, and she smiled.

Legolas stretched his legs out and leaned against her contentedly, popping a nut in his mouth. “What else did you bring?” he asked Mithrandir, grinning.

A laugh rumbled from Mithrandir, and he pulled his pack into his lap.  “Let me see. . .”

* * *

“The trail has ended,” said Rawien, finally voicing what all had concluded.

The elves stood spread out in their search line, each having found no further clues.  They were in a slight valley, thick with trees and undergrowth, and in the several hours of their search large drifts had formed, making the way difficult and obscuring Tinánia ’s trail.  Darkness had fallen, and Ithil was hidden as gusts of wind blew into the valley, packing the snow high on the south side and biting at their bare skin.

“We need to split up,” said Bregolas, his voice impassive and his face masked.  Clearly his confidence that they would find Legolas and Tinánia together had waned.  “There are no caves along this valley, but perhaps they moved closer to the river in search of shelter.”

Thranduil listened to Bregolas’s words, but his eyes kept drifting to the snowdrifts to the south.  Something seemed odd about the posture of the oak tree, which was buried above its lowest branches.  He focused on the tree, listening for its song, and what he heard was a paternal whisper of comfort mixed with joy.  He began to walk to it, hoping it could impart any memory of small elves having passed its way, when he suddenly saw a light shining beneath the snow.  As his pace quickened, the light grew brighter, and then the snow began to move. A walking staff that Thranduil immediately recognized thrust out of the side of the drift, and he ran to the spot, dropping to his knees and digging at the snow around the staff.

Laughter surrounded him, the gruff voice of Mithrandir loudest of all, as he thrust his head through the hole he had dug and looked inside the snow cave.

“Ada!” cried Legolas, scrambling loose of Tinánia’s arms and cloak. He crawled to Thranduil, who was widening the opening by thrusting his body through it.

He felt Legolas’s arms twining around his neck as the child buried his face in Thranduil’s shoulder. Snow began falling on them as the cave wall collapsed, and Thranduil pushed his body back out into the open, never loosening his hold on his child.

Then suddenly he was surrounded, the search party digging out Tinánia and Mithrandir and relieving the tree of the burden of snow it had born, amidst tears of joy and laughter. Thranduil was pulled to his feet and surrounded by his older sons.  Lathron and Bregolas were smothering Legolas in kisses and hugs, but Legolas was not letting go of his father.

Thranduil saw Mithrandir unfold himself from the cramped snow cave and straighten, his staff still casting light about him, and his cloak fell in shimmering folds around him. Thranduil laughed at the sight.

“It was not my choice in color,” grumbled Mithrandir, knowing immediately that he was the source of humor. “Elrond insisted.”

“You look like a big ripe berry,” laughed Thranduil.  “You no longer have any cause to grimace at my choice in crowns!”

Mithrandir glared at him, his look silencing most of the laughter, although many a giggle could still be heard passed into a cloak or gloved hand.  He swung the end of his cloak up over his shoulder to aid in walking, the deep purple color blending in with the night, but glinting as flashes of light from his staff and the torches bounced off it.

“Come,” commanded the wizard, as he turned to walk in the direction of the palace. “I have put off my warm bed long enough.”

* * *

They entered through the doors of the Great Hall, the subdued sounds of the Mid-winter Eve’s feast barely audible. As the king’s presence became known, and the bundle in his arms roused to look around him, a cheer arose.  The musicians began to play and the dancers dance, and at the wave of Thranduil’s hands, the wine began to flow.   The first cups filled were given to the searchers, who were cheered and welcomed home by their families.

Thranduil continued out of the Great Hall and down the Hall to the family quarters, and a nod from the guard directed him to the family sitting room.  Bregolas pushed the door open, and Thranduil stepped inside, preparing himself for the onslaught.  He knelt down, setting Legolas on his feet, and kept a firm hold on his son when Tathiel, Elumeril and Emlin descended on him.

“I am not hurt!” protested Legolas as Tathiel checked him over, but he did not squirm away when she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. Instead, he dissolved against her.

“Do not go way again, Leg’las!” cried Emlin suddenly.  She hit Legolas on his leg with her fist. “You scared me and nana!”

Legolas put his arm around her and pulled her to him.  “I am sorry, Emlin.  I promise I will not go away again.”

Thranduil had watched the reunion quietly, but Legolas was cold, and he intended on getting him into a warm bath. He also wanted to speak to his son about what had happened, as Legolas seemed sobered by the experience. He held out his hand. “You may come back after you have had a warm bath, Legolas.”

Legolas stepped to the door, but before he could walk through it, Lathron scooped him up. “My turn,” he said, his voice muffled in Legolas’s hair.

Thranduil saw the tears that Legolas had mostly held back start to flow, and Legolas sobbed, “I am sorry I ran off.”

“All is well now,” Lathron comforted him as he walked to Legolas’s room. Meriwen, who kept the chambers, had drawn a bath, and she let forth a sigh of relief when she finally saw Legolas. She mussed his hair and kissed his forehead, before retreating from the room.  Lathron helped Legolas out of his clothing, and Thranduil could feel the chill rising from his skin, though Legolas did not seem bothered.  He climbed into the tub, but then sat quietly with his head down.

“Tell me what happened,” coaxed Thranduil as he took a washcloth in hand and began to wash his child, hoping the soothing movements would help.

“Adar, I was very foolish,” Legolas finally admitted.  Thranduil bit his lip to keep from smiling at this admission. “You probably should punish me, but not tonight, please.”

Lathron snorted at that, causing Legolas to raise his eyes and look at his brother appraisingly. 

“I admit that punishing you is not on my list of things to do this night,” agreed Thranduil.  He continued to bathe his son, feeling some of the tension and cold leave the small body. “What happened that made you run out into the forest?”

“I did not know what to say to Abronwë. He made me mad,” said Legolas, his voice at first angry, then sad, “and then I thought he was right.”

“Right about what?”

“He said that Tathiel only took care of me because she had to and that she would rather not, if she did not have to.”

“Why did you think he was right?” asked Thranduil cautiously.

“I do not know,” replied Legolas, his voice barely audible. “He said you had servants raise me because I reminded you too much of my naneth.”

“Hmm,” considered Thranduil. “Well, that proves to me that Abronwë does not know what he is speaking of, for I am glad that every time I look at you I see your naneth.  I loved her very much, and I love you very much. You are a nice reminder.”

Legolas suddenly smiled at him, and Thranduil was reminded how much like Narawen he really did look. “I do not know why Abronwë has said these things, Legolas.  It can be hard to do, but when someone says something hurtful like that, you must stop and consider their words.  If you conclude they are not true, then you will have done much to stop the words from hurting you.  If you do not know if they are true, then you should come ask me or one of your brothers or sisters or Tathiel. We will always tell you the truth.”

“Or Tinánia,” added Legolas.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow slightly when his son blushed. “Yes, and Tinánia, and others that you trust.” He hid his smile.  “We are very grateful to Tinánia that she followed you.”

“Adar, do you think Tinánia will marry me when I grow up?” asked Legolas seriously.

“I do not know, Legolas,” answered Thranduil in a strangled voice.  He took in a deep breath and bit the inside of his cheek. “I do not think you need to find a wife quite yet, though.”

He turned serious, taking Legolas’s face in both hands, he first kissed his forehead and then said, “Do not run off into the forest again, Legolas. There are too many dangers, too many things that can happen suddenly, like this snowstorm.  I cannot bear to lose you, my little leaf.”

Tears filled Legolas’s eyes and he flung his arms about Thranduil’s neck, heedless of the water dripping from him. “I am sorry, Ada. I am sorry! I was scared and cold, and I tried to remember what Bregolas said about finding shelter if I was lost, but the snow was biting me and I could not leave the tree! I was so glad when Tinánia came, Ada.  I do not want to run away ever again,” he finished as sobs again racked him.

Thranduil stood, letting Lathron wrap a towel around Legolas, and he carried him back to his room.  He sat down in the rocking chair where he used to sit and rock Legolas when he was just a toddler and unsure of being home, and he let Legolas cry until his tears were spent.  Lathron covered them both in a blanket and built up the fire in the room, then left to see that Mithrandir was settled and the celebration ongoing.  As Thranduil sat in the darkness, with just the flames dancing off the walls for light, and his son asleep in his arms, he could not help but remember this same night many years earlier, when he had sat in this same chair, but without his son in his arms, and he had been the one to cry as he wondered if he would ever hold this child.  He wondered if he would ever look at Legolas and not think of how he had nearly lost him.

He heard the door quietly open, and seeing Tathiel, Rawien and Emlin in the entrance, he motioned them in.  Rawien held Emlin, and he knelt beside the chair so that she could kiss Legolas.

“She would not go to bed until she had kissed Legolas good night,” explained Tathiel. She smiled at Thranduil. “She adores him, you know.”

Thranduil smiled back, and motioning Tathiel to draw near, he pulled her down and kissed her head.  “Legolas adores you, you know,” he replied. “Part of what led Legolas to run was an accusation that you did not willingly take care of him, but that you had to. Anyone who knows you or Legolas knows that is not true.  You are very much his naneth, and I thank you for it.”

Tathiel tucked Legolas’s hair behind his ear, and wiped a tear track from his cheek.  She suddenly smiled, the look feral. “Whoever said that better ensure they never say it in front of me.”

Rawien laughed, Emlin clapping her hand over his mouth as she had been sworn to silence before coming in the room.  He put his arm around his wife and pulled her to her feet, while she merely smiled serenely. “Good night, Thranduil.”

A short while later the door opened again, and this time it was Tinánia who stuck her head in.  Thranduil motioned for her to come. He gazed upon the young lady before him, soon to reach her majority and he felt tears prickle at his eyes as he considered what she had meant to his family.  She drew near, leaning over to check Legolas herself and kiss him goodnight. There was a time when Thranduil would have pulled her on to his lap and hugged her like one of his daughters, but on this night he merely took her hand in his.  “Twice you have helped save my child, Tinánia.  There is naught within my power I would not do for you or give you; you have but to ask.”

Tinánia smiled. “There is naught that I need or want,” she replied shyly.

“Legolas asked me if I thought you would marry him,” he informed her, teasing.

Tinánia reddened and laughed.  “He is a bit young yet.  Perhaps we had better wait until he grows up. Emlin may claim him, after all.”

“I am pleased you are his first crush, and you are part of my family regardless of who you marry,” replied Thranduil.

Tinánia blushed again and left, running literally into Lathron as she passed him, which made her bush even more and then flee.  Thranduil could not help but smile as he suddenly realized who Tinánia might have a crush on!

“Mithrandir is comfortably settled, and the feast goes on, Adar,” reported Lathron. “No one expects you to attend. Bregolas is present, as is Urithral.   I have arranged for a smaller celebration tomorrow, in honor of Mithrandir’s arrival.”

“I would like to make Tinánia a small gift.  Do you know what she might like?” asked Thranduil.

Lathron considered the question for a moment, then replied, “Two things come to mind, Adar.  Bracers made with the emblem of your house would be fitting, considering how often she has aided this house.  On a more personal note, Tinánia is often in the gardens reading.  There is a particular book of poetry that I believe she would like.”

“Will you see that both are done?” asked Thranduil, watching Lathron closely.  He could read nothing in his son’s demeanor, but he tucked the information away for a later day.  Tinánia was not of age, and if Lathron had feelings for her, he would never allow them to be known until he felt it was time.

“Yes, Adar,” replied Lathron. He motioned to Legolas. “Do you wish me to take him to bed with me?”

Thranduil nearly said ‘no’, thinking he would keep Legolas by his side this night, but he decided he had had Legolas safely in his arms all evening.  He would do well to share him with Lathron this evening, and with Tathiel tomorrow. Besides, he had asked Abronwë’s and Narthan’s families to wait for him in the Great Hall.

“Please,” he replied.  “Legolas enjoys having you to himself.  I will go meet with the families of his friends.  I am more than curious to know how this child Abronwë has come to such conclusions.”

Lathron nodded, his lips pursed, and Thranduil knew that his son would find such a meeting unpleasant.  While he was a skilled diplomat and negotiator, he had little patience for cruel words thrown at someone merely to cause pain.  Thranduil stood, transferring Legolas, blankets and towel to Lathron’s arms. Thranduil looked at the still damp patch on his tunic and smiled. “I will wear a robe over this,” he concluded, as he decided he would not dress for the evening’s event.

* * *