Chapter 5:  falling into darkness

The King flung his cloak to the side while rushing through the open hallway giving the servant standing nearby no chance to catch the garment.

He, his sons and all available warriors and guards had searched the area around the glade where his wife had been attacked on her way home for more than a full day. Yet try as they might, and even knowing their forest as no one else could, they had found nothing. There was no trace of his youngest son and no hint of where the boy could have vanished.

Thranduil was desperate beyond any measure and no longer sure that Legolas was still alive. He believed he was still feeling his child through their bond but he feared that he was succumbing to wishful thinking.

It was more realistic that the orcs had captured the elfling or he had fallen prey to another predator in the forest. Thranduil could not even bring himself to think about this possibility. He was in deep sorrow over the loss of his wife. He feared he would be unable to endure the additional loss of his youngest son.

He had after all seen what orcs did when they could capture an elf. What chance did his little son have against such brutes?

After striding into his rooms he forcefully slammed the door shut. He could no longer endure the sympathetic glances directed at him. The body of his wife had been brought home but he just couldn’t face looking at her yet.

He had not even been able to comfort his sons. Saeron had searched with him; mute and angry, he had raced beside him through the trees. For hours and hours they had circled the clearing hoping to find the missing elfling. They had shouted their throats raw, yet the child remained unfound.

Saeron’s barrier of indifference had changed the moment he had spotted Galadhion who was also desperately searching the surroundings for his little brother.

Before Thranduil had a chance to react Saeron had leaped from the tree just above Galadhion, instantly dragging his older brother to the ground. The Crown Prince had been too surprised to deflect the blows Saeron was raining down on him.

“Where were you?” Saeron had cried again and again while punching his brother’s face. “You were supposed to protect her!”

The King’s second son had screamed while tears ran down his face. Too overwrought with grief and anger he had punched and slapped his brother until a strong hand had gripped his shoulder, flinging him off Galadhion. Saeron had hit the ground hard and raised his head, looking dazedly at his father.

“Saeron, are you mad?” the King had shouted. “Pull yourself together or return home!”

With that the King had turned and extended a hand toward a still cowering Galadhion. The Crown Prince had grabbed it and was forcefully pulled to his feet. Staggering slightly he had dragged his sleeve over his bleeding nose and lip.

The warriors surrounding the trio had shifted uneasily. The situation was explosive. Saeron had still looked angrily at his brother and the King had been furious. His eyes had glared and the brothers had been frozen in their places. Thalan, holding the warriors back, had been unsure how any of them including him could ease the tension.

Galadhion had turned away without a word, preparing to run into the trees.

“Galadhion! Stop!”

The sharp command had stopped the younger elf immediately. Yet he had not turned. Narrowing his eyes and exhaling Thranduil had stepped behind his son and pulled him around.

“Galadhion, what is the meaning of this?” he had demanded his voice now low. “I would very much appreciate my sons behaving like adults!”

Galadhion had flinched at the tone and lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, my Lord, but Saeron is right. It is my fault that she is dead!”

He had screamed the last words into his father’s face and before anyone could react he had turned and leaped into a tree.

The King had closed his eyes briefly and started forward again. He did not care if anyone was following him. He had to find his youngest even if he had to search every tree and every hole in his forest! Saeron had followed his father while Thalan had given the signal to depart.

Galadhion had not shown up again; Saeron had remained by his father’s side, yet he had not spoken a single word.

After more than a day of fruitless searching the party had finally returned home.

Thranduil banged his forehead against the doorframe. He welcomed the pain, yet it was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

Pushing himself from the door he crossed the room to stand before his desk near the small window. Documents had already been piled there during his absence. With an angry swipe of his hand he cleared the desk. Papers, pencils, the ink pot and other items clattered to the floor. He fell to his knees and rested his forehead against on the cool wood of the desk.

“Why didn’t you wait?” he cried. “WHY IN THE NAME OF THE BELAIN DIDN’T YOU WAIT?” he screamed, exhausted beyond measure.

With a last broken sob the King sank to the floor unconscious.

Thalan, always hovering around his Lord, quietly opened the door. He had managed to send away all of the curious servants who wanted to look into the King’s quarters and he slipped into the room silently. He was one of a few elves allowed to do this unannounced.

His heart sped up at the sight of his friend lying immobile in front of his desk. Before he hastened over he turned and opened the door again right in front of the face of a still hovering servant.

“Fetch Master Thornil, now!” he demanded, startling the elf and sending him running down the corridor. Thalan sighed. The Woodland King was well loved and the tragedy had not only unbalanced their otherwise strong ruler but also affected his subjects.

After crossing the room Thalan knelt down and felt for a pulse. He had been expecting this breakdown. Relieved at finding a strong heartbeat he pulled the unconscious elf into his arms and carried him over to the large bed. He swallowed while he looked at the two neatly made sleeping places. Now one would forever be vacant.

After placing the King on the bedding Thalan sat on the edge of the mattress and slowly removed Thranduil’s outer tunic. He wrinkled his nose. A bath and fresh clothing was in order. He would wait for the healer before continuing. Maybe a good night’s sleep and fresh clothing would bring some relief even if it was only to the King’s body.

He did not have to wait long until the door opened again and Thornil slipped into the room. Looking at the desk area the healer only raised an eyebrow but he did not comment on the mess. Looking around the room he quickly determined the situation.

Thalan had meanwhile managed to remove Thranduil’s clothing. Seeing the pile of dirty garments Thornil moved silently into the bath room and returned with a basin of warm water and some wash cloths.

“Have you seen the boys?” Thalan asked. Thornil shook his head. He knew that the advisor meant Galadhion and Saeron.

Galadhion had not yet returned from his search and Saeron had been closeted inside his rooms since his return. Someone had to check up on them too.

Even though the message that the Queen had been killed had spread like a wildfire the King’s herald still had to make the official announcement. Thalan had been on his way to consult with his King about how to phrase the official statement when he had heard the commotion in the royal apartment.

“Has she already been brought inside?” Thalan asked and the healer nodded again.

“Yes, I was just preparing her for the funeral.”

The healer looked at the pale figure on the bed. “I do not know how we will get through this ceremony.”

Thalan sighed. They all would be hard pressed to remain unmoved during the official final farewell. Together the two elves washed the King and even managed to comb his long hair. While dressing him in clean sleepwear Thornil looked at Thalan. “Was he unconscious when you arrived?” The advisor looked up startled but nodded.

“That’s alright. At least he will get a few hours of relief,” Thornil replied while making a quick examination. After covering the King with a blanket the healer rose and handed a small vial to Thalan.

“Maybe you can convince him to drink this. It’s a light sedative. It will calm his nerves and encourage him to sleep some more.”

“Thank you,” Thalan answered while accompanying the healer to the door. Knowing that Thalan would remain with the King, Thornil turned before leaving. “I’ll be in my office. You have only to call if you need my help again!”

“I know, thank you,” Thalan replied and closed the door when the healer had left. He bent down and picked up the items that were strewn all around the desk, placing them back on the desktop. With a last look at the still form of his friend he settled himself in an overstuffed chair. This was going to be a long night.

…………………………………….

Thranduil awoke confused and rubbed his eyes, blearily. The sun was streaming through the narrow window on the left wall but the rays did nothing to warm him. He could not even remember going to sleep.

Abruptly his memory returned and the ache in his heart flared up. He let out an anguished cry. Thalan dozing in a nearby chair jerked up at the sound and rushed over to the bed.

“Thranduil, are you alright?” he asked concerned. Seeing the incredulous look in the King’s eyes he chided himself for his stupid question. How could he be alright? How could anything ever be alright again?

“Thalan?” Thranduil asked while directing an annoyed expression at his friend hovering over him. “What happened?”

“You collapsed, my friend, after your return from the search for…” Thalan stopped not wanting to stir up all the raw emotions at once.

The King however, even if deeply grieved had not lost his sharp mind. “Has my son been found?” he asked sharply not further elaborating on his state.

Thalan only shook his head. Galadhion had returned in the morning in no better shape then his father. Thalan and Thornil had been hard pressed to convince the Crown Prince to not disturb his father‘s rest. He had no positive news to report anyway. Only an hour ago a whole troop of warriors and guards had also returned with empty hands.

Despite the healer’s advice Galadhion had not retired but sat near his mother’s body which was lying in state in the throne room. Thalan had at least managed to hold Saeron at bay, keeping the brothers from again confronting each other.

Thalan´s attention refocused when Thranduil began to struggle out of his bed. He looked around in irritation. “Where are my clothes?” he asked while checking the area around the bed.

“Thranduil, maybe you should rest some more…” Thalan started, but he was interrupted when the King whirled around and came face to face with his advisor.

“Maybe it has slipped your notice Thalan, but I have a kingdom to rule. I have neglected my duties for too long already. Please leave me so that I can make myself presentable!”

Thalan, knowing the hot-headed son of Oropher long enough stepped back a step. First he wanted to retort in a similar sharp voice but then he remembered that his friend’s bearing was only a result of his grieving.

“Thranduil, I understand……..”

“LEAVE!”

Without another word Thalan turned. Any further words would be futile until after Thranduil calmed down.

………………………………

When the door to the throne room opened Galadhion looked up. He stiffened when he recognized his father entering the dimmed room. Without looking at him or even acknowledging his presence his father crossed the room and sat beside the bier his mother was lying on.

The healer had prepared her well; she looked like she was only sleeping. She was dressed in a midnight blue gown of velvet, her long black hair combed and dotted with tiny gems that sparkled and glittered. Her hands were crossed over her belly and held a single white rose.

Galadhion shifted uneasily. His father sat with a blank look not even directed at his mother. He wanted so desperately to talk to his father, to tell him that he was sorry, that if he had only arrived a few minutes earlier … but not a single word left his mouth.

Since their meeting in the woods his father had not talked to him, had not spoken a single word of comfort or in sympathy. But he knew the reason well; his father was holding him responsible for his mother’s death! How could he console him when he could not even forgive himself?

Yet he ached for a response, and so Galadhion stepped closer.

“Ada?” he asked his voice sounding weak and tremulous in the great room.

The king did not move, not even to blink. Galadhion closed his eyes. He would not get his absolution. Without another glance or word he turned and left the room. He had not only lost his mother and his little brother but he had lost the respect and love of his father too!

To be continued………………