Chapter 26:  picking up the pieces

Thranduil looked up when a knock sounded on his study door. He sighed. Only half an hour ago he had retired to his room hoping to re-order his thoughts, to get a look at the correspondence that had been neglected for so many weeks, and to get away from the questioning, prying and worried eyes. He was far from feeling up to taking over his duties just yet, but he would go mad if he remained in bed any longer.

Three hours ago he had met with the few elves around him who were and had always been loyal to him. Together they had made plans about how to free the imprisoned elves in the palace, where to search for possible allies of Thoran still hiding somewhere within the palace and had constructed a plan to search the caverns for dangers seen and unexpected.

Thornil, the Head Healer, had told him without mincing words that he was not in any condition to accompany the groups searching the palace and the grounds. Only an hour ago Meldrion had reported that all of the captured elves had been freed, ten of Thoran’s fellows had been captured and imprisoned, and that the palace staff was slowly returning and resuming their duties.

Thranduil was no fool however. It would need time, weeks or maybe even months, until all would have returned to normal. He knew that things wouldn’t return to what they had been. Too much had happened to not permanently affect their lives from this point.  But there were aspects that he was still not sure how to best handle. A revolution was something neither he nor his father had ever encountered.

A few elves had betrayed his trust at a level he was not willing to forgive. Others had acted either out of fear or because of threats to themselves or members of their family. Some who had sympathized with Thoran would never be detected. All in all this left a very bad taste in Thranduil’s mouth and he was sure he would yet come across some unpleasant moments and situations.

The most important thing to the King was his concern for his sons. From Galadhion he had heard nothing so far. Saeron was recovering from his severe injuries in the infirmary, but he had told Thranduil that Legolas had been safe when he had left him in the care of Senath’s wife and some warriors.

And still he was not sure how to deal out justice to match the crime Thoran had committed. His actions could only be termed high treason and as such he would be judged. But removing Thoran would not solve the underlying problem. There were still elves in the south who disagreed with his decisions to evacuate the region around the dark tower and the old conflicts between Silvan elves and Sindar elves also lingered.

While still wracking his brain with so many unsolved questions he had nearly forgotten the knock at the door. The elf asking for permission to enter, however, was not so easily rejected and reminded his King of his presence with a second knock to the door.

Raising an eyebrow in annoyance, Thranduil called out and bade the visitor enter. His face lit up when he saw Thalan, his most trusted councillor and long time friend. Thalan had been with the elves who were imprisoned in the dining hall, but fortunately he had not been blackmailed by any threats of harm to a loved one. He had nonetheless abided with the unfortunate detainees and made sure that all had remained calm and were minimally cooperative.

“My Lord,” he said and Thranduil was glad that no concern, pity or annoyance was underlying his friend’s tone. “You should come outside with me. There is something I’m sure you will want to see!”

Searching the elf’s face and seeing only sincerity Thranduil rose to his feet, confident that his friend would not lure him out for something unimportant. He was still unsteady when walking and his side still hurt with occasional shooting pains yet he was also eager to know what was so important that it required his presence.

While walking through the hallway Thranduil recognized that Thalan was hovering at his elbow but in spite of initial annoyance, he inwardly was glad for the offered support. Thalan had without doubt seen his grimace while he stood up.

On his way to the entrance of the fortress many elves crossed his path. This was an everyday occurrence, yet it was now different. The looks directed at him varied from astonished and joyful through ashamed. Indeed it would be a long time until he could walk his halls with the same confidence and comfort as before.

When he exited the palace he suddenly stopped, surprised at the sight that greeted him. A long procession was just crossing the bridge and beginning to gather below the steps leading up to the entrance.

Scanning the group he recognized that it consisted of the warriors who had been fighting to repel the orcs attacking the southern settlements. There were other warriors among them. In fact there were members from all of the warrior groups ranging from the Home Guard to those from all four sections of Mirkwood.

It was a motley crew but he had never been happier or more grateful to see so many of his elves who had successfully removed themselves from Thoran’s clutches. It was these elves who had secured his kingdom at the last resort.

The defection of the warriors had cost Thoran his victory and had brought about his downfall, and Thranduil knew exactly who he had to thank for it. But now was not the time. A few important things still had to be achieved before they could rejoice and make a new start.  

When his eyes travelled to the middle of the group fear gripped his heart. Attached between two horses was a litter and he did not need to look closer to know that the still elf lying there was none other then Galadhion.

He had barely had time to digest this shock when his eyes caught sight of another detail, no less shocking but in a positive way. In front of Sinaht, the Chief Commander of the Home Guard, sat Legolas clutching the mane of the warrior’s great stallion tightly.

As soon as their eyes had met Sinaht was hard pressed to set the elfling on his feet before he could fall from the great horse while trying to wriggle free. With some effort Thranduil went down to one knee and prepared himself for the impact of the fair-haired elfling running up to him at full speed. He was unaware of the understanding smiles directed at him from all around.

“Ada, Ada,” Legolas cried and a second later Thranduil pressed the elfling against his chest, the world around him momentarily forgotten. With a deep breath he inhaled the scent of his child, having feared to never again have the chance to do it.

Legolas was chattering and crying, laughing and murmuring all at the same time but Thranduil didn’t care. He was only relieved to have his boy back whole and healthy. He knew that so many others were not as fortunate and a sad feeling came into his heart despite his overwhelming joy. The homecoming of the children Thoran had abused was still fresh in his memory. The funerals he had officiated over for the five dead children had been the worst duty he had performed in a long time.

When only the need for air stopped the flow of words Thranduil gazed deeply into his son’s eyes and calmed his son’s agitated thoughts to a level so that soon the elfling was snuggling close against him content to be held in his arms. Carefully rising he scooped Legolas up and could not avoid a grimace of pain at the stabbing pain in his side. But he refused to relinquish the burden of the elfling in his arms.

After a nod from their King the warriors dismounted and began to disperse in all directions. Thranduil looked at the group further and caught his breath again. Four elves were standing to one side who were distinctly not a part of the larger group.

All four were well known to him. He nodded respectfully towards them while carefully descending the steps. Thalan was always close behind him for which Thranduil was for once grateful.

He approached the four, his son still clutched in his arms. Beside Lord Glorfindel stood Celeborn, the Lord of the Golden Wood, and next to him his grandsons and Lords of Imladris, Elladan and Elrohir. Behind them stood the warriors of their respective realms. How these elves had come to be here had to be addressed later, now he was only glad, if a bit bewildered, to meet them. When he had reached his guests he looked at each one with a mixture of gratitude and annoyance.

The Lord of the Golden Wood exchanged a quick glance with the fair haired warrior from Imladris and could not hide his amusement. Seeing the self-confident King of Mirkwood shaken to a level of muteness was a rare occasion. Yet when he looked closer he could clearly see the tracks of pain and worry in the King’s face and the amusement quickly vanished from his dirty face.

“Go to your son, Thranduil,” Celeborn said softly the only one of the four elves familiar enough with the woodland King for such a tone. “We are not asking for formalities and the information and news we bear can be exchanged later.”

Nodding his thanks while still clutching his youngest son to his chest Thranduil turned away. Words were not necessary anyway. His mind was still reeling. How was it be possible for the four elves to be here? The loyalty displayed was a balm to his sore heart. Walking through the warriors still present, he squeezed many an arm in thanks and offered a few words of reassurance.

His gaze however was fixed on the litter and the still form of his eldest son. The kind smiles that had followed him during his reunion with Legolas were changing now to ones of concern when the King reached the litter.

Thranduil set Legolas down on his feet and gazed at his son on the litter. It was hung at a height that allowed Legolas to gaze over the rim and the King didn’t have to crouch too low.

To his surprise Galadhion was awake and looked at his father with questioning eyes. Thranduil caressed his son’s cheek and let his gaze wander over the lightly covered body.

Two dark patches of dried blood made him frown and although the heavily bandaged right upper arm looked awful, it was the red patch just below the ribcage that heightened Thranduil’s concern. He had only to look at his son’s ashen face to know that the injuries were severe.

Sending calming thoughts Thranduil placed a gentle finger over his son’s lips with a silent promise of a later explanation. Galadhion closed his eyes in exhaustion but with a much lighter heart.

“Gal is hurt?” Legolas asked in a fearful voice and Thranduil gathered the elfling again into his arms when the tears threatened to spill.

“Yes, but he is sleeping now and will recover. You will see,” Thranduil answered while stroking the fair hair of the boy and with a last look at the littler. Thornil and two helpers had already arrived and were now waiting until the litter was detached from the horses.

While the healers picked up the litter containing the wounded prince, Thornil directed a stern gaze at his King. Understanding the demand, Thranduil nodded slightly and Thornil turned to hurry after his newest patient.

Most of the warriors had already dispersed and Thranduil could also no longer see his guests from Lothlórien and Imladris. Confident that they understood the still raging disarray and hoping that at least one of his councillors had followed protocol and provided the guests with refreshment and accommodations, he had to be content for the time being.

Thranduil shifted the drowsing elfling in his arms and was about to begin climbing the steps again, when a most pleasant sight greeted him. Hurrying toward him was Loriel, Legolas’ nurse. He was glad to see that some elves were restored and most of all, healthy.

Reaching him Loriel curtsied. “My Lord King, I’m glad to see you on your feet again. Will you relinquish this sleepy warrior to me?” she said with a twinkle in her eyes and outstretched arms.

“I’m also glad to see you, Loriel. Yes, thank you,” he answered and handed the now sleeping boy over. He was happy to be relieved of Legolas´ weight, as light as it may have been. Annoyed he once again recognized how weakened his condition still was. Thornil´s reminder still echoed in his mind.

Only now aware that Thalan was still waiting patiently at his side, Thranduil surveyed the scene once more. Apart from a few elves caring for the horses and some packs still waiting to be brought inside the palace, the grounds looked almost untouched.

But Thranduil was not fooled. Much remained to be achieved. First he had to make his position clear. He needed to gather as much information as possible to give him an impression of what had happened both inside and outside the palace; in fact all over his kingdom, over the last few weeks.

“Thranduil, we should return inside,” Thalan suggested seeing the face of his friend getting paler by the minute. Still annoyed at the constant reminder of his condition Thranduil nodded and together they slowly climbed the many steps toward the entrance. Thranduil felt his legs begin to tremble and his vision narrowed to a small tunnel in front of him. Unwillingly he shook his head and when he had reached the top step he turned. There was one task left to do.

He directed his gaze towards the great stone gates and called upon the old magic. After a few second the great slabs groaned and banged shut with a firm sound. Thalan inclined his head at the sight, confident that again a small step toward normality had been done.

Turning quickly, he reacted to something he saw from the corner of his eye.  Reaching out he caught the limp body of his King collapsing into his arms. Having expected this he turned, and carrying Thranduil, hurried inside the palace.

…………………………………………

When Thranduil awoke he felt somewhat refreshed, a feeling he had not known for many weeks now. As pleasant as it was he jerked upright annoyed by the thought of how long he had slept this time. He could not even remember when he had retired.

One more thing, his side, while still bandaged heavily was not hurting as much as it had. Although he was grateful for this, as he got up from his bed his bewilderment was mounting with every minute.

He was in his own rooms, his clothes laid out for him as always, a heavenly smelling tea at his bedside. For one moment he was tempted to forget all the past weeks of hardship, doubts and pain. Yet he was never one to accept a favour easily. He knew that everything had its price.

Determined to finally get his life and his kingdom back to normal levels he quickly dressed while taking sips of the tea and looked one last time in the full-length mirror before leaving his apartments. Setting a last braid in place and straightening a wrinkle he nodded. He was satisfied with his appearance. His spurred himself to finally start his day, resolutely opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

For a second he paused and listened to the sounds around him. The flurry of activity let him imagine that the palace life had returned to normal, yet he knew that weeks would still be needed to pick up all the pieces. Many things, both pleasant and unpleasant, would need to be accomplished before all traces of Thoran were eliminated from his Kingdom.

When he crossed the great hall some of the elves he passed bowed or curtseyed with smiles on their faces. He savoured their open display of allegiance and made no secret of it. Yet the traffic was too sparse for a fully staffed palace.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. Nothing had returned to normal! How could he have thought that all would return to as the way it had been before Thoran had plunged his world into chaos? His optimistic feelings from the morning had vanished while he thought of his opponent. Still, he had to decide how to judge the imprisoned elf.

With a determined jerk he opened one side of the huge double door leading to the great audience chamber. Well, he at least would take up his duties! He stopped walking as if he had hit an unseen barrier when a collective cheer arose at his entrance.

The great hall was crowded from wall to wall with elves who were standing and applauding loudly while they were calling out, “Hail to the new and old King!”

Thranduil, never one to be impressed lightly stood there immobile and overwhelmed. The hall was nearly bursting with occupants all dressed in their finest clothing; the ladies elegant in long gowns the warriors in full ceremonial attire. Servants, councillors and members of the staff, scribes, cooks and other helpers in between, along with many others of all ages stood there cheering and applauding him.

Thranduil swallowed hard to keep his composure. He could see Thalan and Thornil, the four section commanders, Galion and Loriel and many others who helped him to master his daily life.

What nearly crumpled his self-restraint however was the sight of Galadhion and Saeron sitting side by side in the front row smiling at him. The still heavily bandaged leg of Saeron did not allow him to stand nor did Thornil’s restraining hand placed firmly on his eldest´s shoulder.

Thranduil did not care. Seeing his sons up from their sickbeds was all that mattered to him. Continuing to scan the crowd his eyes came to rest on his four guests who were also standing and cheering alongside the others. He was determined to have some long talks with them to investigate all the tales still unknown to him behind their coming to his aid.

Thranduil was just about to step forward and thank the many elves when the crowed parted forming a passage between them. When the King recognized who was coming forward he lost his composure.

Legolas walked carefully toward him with a black satin cushion in his hands. Atop the pillow rested his crown. The cushion swayed dangerously but the elfling managed to balance it safely along the corridor. When he had reached his father he stretched up his arms holding the crown up towards his father.

“Welcome back, Ada!” the boy whispered his eyes shining. Thranduil knelt and accepted the cushion while inclining his head. The formal gesture lingered only for a moment longer. Quickly the King set the pillow aside and embraced his youngest now no longer able to hold his tears back.

To be continued……………………………..