Swallowed in the Sea

Summary: Legolas has returned to his father, hale, whole, and blessedly alive. But Thranduil can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Lord of the Rings universe, or the song Swallowed in the Sea by Coldplay, which inspired this story (and a few quotes in it).

Thranduil didn't know what to do.

It had been nearly a fortnight since his son had finally returned to him, hale, whole, and blessedly alive after his year-long quest. At first, all had seemed well. Legolas had laughed with his friends and shared his father's joy in seeing the glory of their woods renewed. His people had celebrated the prince's return and victory. Yet as the days progressed, Thranduil could not help but notice the occasional cloud over his son's usually sunny demeanor. At first he attributed it to the shock of seeing their beloved woods scorched from the battle against Dol Guldur, but would its effect on Legolas not have been worst when he first arrived back home? Or maybe Thranduil had just been so happy to see Legolas that it had blinded him to his son's pain.

It could simply be that Legolas was war weary. That was natural, of course, but Thranduil's fatherly intuition would not let him accept that as the answer.

And no other explanations worked either. He had no logic to back that statement up, only the same intuition that would not let him rest. His son, though he tried hard to hide it, was melancholy. What was worse, the king couldn't escape the thought that he had seen this same look, the same cloud, on someone else. He felt like an incompetent healer who had seen the same symptoms before but could not properly diagnose them.

And Thranduil didn't know what to do. Should he just ask him? Should he wait for Legolas to come to him? But what if he never did? It's not that Thranduil expected his son to come running to him whenever he had a problem, but he should talk to someone, and Legolas clearly wasn't doing that.

The Elvenking was nothing if not direct, so he settled on approaching his son. After all, he ran his kingdom that way, so it seemed like as good an approach as any.

He knocked softly on his son's door.

"Come in."

Thranduil entered quietly. The room was dark, with only a few candles to light his way. As his eyes adjusted, he spotted his son on the balcony.

Striding over to him, he settled gracefully on the bench next to Legolas.

His son graced him with a slow, easy smile. "The trees still speak to me. I had forgotten how reassuring that sound could be." Again, Thranduil couldn't help but notice the slight crease of the eyes or straightening of the lips that made the smile suddenly a little less genuine, but when he tried to get another look it was gone. "I remember you telling me, when I was younger and then later when I began my warrior training, how the trees would help me: to find my way home, to warn me of danger," Legolas smirked, "to conspire against those who tried to plot against me."

"And by 'plot against you,' I meant orcs or traitors, not your history tutor."

Legolas shot him an innocent look. "You weren't that specific."

"And for your tutor's sake, I am very sorry I wasn't," Thranduil said wryly.

Legolas laughed. "He was fine."

"Yes he was." Thranduil allowed himself a chuckle, but sobered quickly as he remembered his purpose here. "But you, ion-nin, are not."

Legolas' eyes widened slightly and he sat up from his semi-reclined position. "What do you mean?"

Father and son were very different, both in temperament and in heart. But hundreds of years together, the majority without the queen or any other family member to function as a mediator, had taught them how to love each other. And if there was one thing the king had learned, it was that Legolas had his mother's heart. Thranduil, though caring, was typically gruff and closed off when it came to emotions. After his wife sailed, he did his best to absorb the loss and move on. His grief was expressed in action, in moving on.

But with Legolas, sometimes you needed to stand still. Wait him out. When it came to his son, slow and steady was the way to go. And though Thranduil wanted nothing more than to demand the information he needed, he knew it would do him no good.

"Legolas…you are not yourself. You are trying to put on a brave face, and are mostly succeeding, but there is something you are hiding." Thranduil knew he hit the mark as his son looked away from him in shame, and his tone softened to a pitch that very few would have expected him capable of. "Tithen pen, I do not expect you to tell me anything. I understand that some things are personal, even from your father and your king. And I will not demand anything of you, save this: to talk to someone."

Legolas lowered his head as tears started to cloud his vision, but he refused to let them fall. His loose golden hair draped around his face like a curtain and Thranduil reached out to tuck the strands behind his ear. "It does not have to be me. But please, whatever it is that is making you so unhappy, tell someone. That is all I ask of you."

Thranduil leaned over to kiss his son's temple and began to leave to allow him privacy. He got a few paces away from the bench when Legolas turned to look at him for the first time since his speech.

"Ada?"

Thranduil turned.

"Can we just sit here for a while? Not talk, just…sit," Legolas murmured. Even in the sparse light, Thranduil could see that his son's eyes were still brighter than normal. And where before Legolas would not look at him, he eyes were now begging him to stay.

"Of course," Thranduil said just as softly. If this was all his son wanted, how could he deny him?

After he returned to his position on the bench, Legolas slid closer so that he leaned against his father's side. Thranduil draped an arm around his shoulders and held him close: once again, he did not know what else to do.

He had to admit that he missed this. He had feared that he would never see his son again, and it was comforting to finally hold him in his arms. He doubted Legolas would have permitted the coddling under other circumstances, and where Legolas found reassurance from the sound of the trees, Thranduil found it in the sound of his son's soft breathing. For several minutes, there was nothing but silence as they looked out over the forest.

Surprisingly, it was Legolas who broke the silence first, and Thranduil could not have fashioned a more random question if he had tried. "Ada?" He felt his son stiffen slightly, as if bracing himself for a shouting match. "Were you angry at Nana for choosing to sail?"

Thranduil's brow furrowed, trying to understand where this question was coming from. It's not that they never talked about his wife, but his son's inquiry puzzled him. "Of course not. I was angry, but never at her."

Once again, Legolas was staring intently at his lap. "You weren't mad at her, even though she left us?"

Was that it? Was Legolas angry at his mother for leaving? But that was hundreds upon hundreds of years ago, when the darkness first bled into Lasgalen and they had grossly underestimated it - which had led to the attack on his queen and her eventual departure to Valinor. Why would Legolas bring that up now?

"She had to leave, Legolas. She…she wasn't herself. The sea's pull was too strong after she – after what happened. If she hadn't sailed, she would never have been whole again."

Legolas' shoulders slumped, and he looked even more miserable than before. What had he said? Had he not just said he did not blame his wife for anything? She had to sail, and Thranduil knew in his heart there was no other option. One only had to look at her to see that…

And then it all clicked. He could diagnose the illness now, and it was terminal. The king knew where he had seen that look before: it had plagued the queen before she sailed. Legolas had the same look that his wife had.

Valar, no.

Thranduil swallowed and tried his best to not look as devastated as he felt. "The sea calls you." It was a statement, not a question.

Legolas finally looked at him and when he did, the dam of tears finally burst. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I don't know what to do. I told Aragorn I wouldn't sail until…until he passed, but it's been less than a year and the call is already in the back of my head all the time." Now that he started, he couldn't stop his confession that bordered on a ramble. "When Nana left it tore our hearts out. I didn't want to do that again," Legolas was losing his will but forced the last words out in a whisper, "but my heart breaking anyway."

With those last words, Thranduil's heart shattered. Like his wife, he had to watch his son lose himself to the sea. Thranduil felt something that seemed suspiciously like tears well up in his eyes. "Mine too."

Legolas sobbed, and Thranduil had no words to give, nothing that would make things alright. Once again, he had to rely on his intuition. It unnerved him: lately his instincts had been geared more toward battle than comfort. He pulled Legolas against him once again and leaned back slowly so that they rested against the back of the bench. He waited Legolas out as he cried. It occurred to him that it would suit them both to go slow for a while: this may be one of the last precious moments he could have with his son for a while if he chose to leave.

He stroked his son's hair absentmindedly while he pondered what exactly this new revelation meant. Legolas' guilt, his belief that he had somehow betrayed his father by wanting to sail, was false but not entirely ill founded. After his wife departed, Legolas was literally the only being who kept Thranduil in Middle Earth; Legolas was the only family he had left. Thranduil doubted that even duty to his people would have tied him to these shores, and even if it had, he knew his reign would have been superficial. It was for his son that he fought fiercely against the spiders, for his son that he worked to keep the paths safe and his people happy. What he did, he did for Legolas. But only because he wanted his son to be happy. And if staying in Lasgalen wouldn't make him happy…

Legolas sniffled. "What do I do? Do I stay and make my friends miserable as the sea's call gets louder, or do I leave and betray them?" Legolas sat up and looked his father in the eye. "If you think it's selfish to leave I won't, Ada, I won't."

This was his chance. All Thranduil had to do –and he hated himself for even thinking of it - was say the words, and Legolas would stay. What had he done to inspire that kind of trust from his son?

"Legolas," he took a deep breath and forced a small, reassuring smile. "If you are worried about me, then you shouldn't trouble yourself. Celeborn is now lord of half of the woods, and more and more of our people are leaving for the havens every day. There is plenty to do now, but soon enough there will be no reason for me to stay and I will have nothing left to give to Middle Earth. And as for you, lasse pen," Thranduil shook his head, "what good would it do to stay here when you have nothing left to give, or no longer love all you see?"

Legolas' brow furrowed. He hadn't thought of it like that. Middle Earth didn't just mean wandering aimlessly, waiting for the sea to swallow him. There was Aragorn and Gimli; there was so much left to do. "No," he said faintly, "I do have something left to give. Aragorn will need help during his reign, and the woods in Ithilien need care. I will be the one to care for them. The sea's call will not forgive me, but perhaps I can forget for a while."

Thranduil felt a rush of relief, but he wanted to make sure that his son was positive. He didn't want to give Legolas a chance to change his mind, but attempting to ignore the sea's call was no light matter - even if it was only for the remainder of Aragorn's life, the blink of an eye for an elf. "And you feel good about this decision?"

Legolas smiled softly. "Yes, I feel very good. But what about you?" Legolas frowned. "Your heart still rests in the forest, I can tell, and now that our woods are finally free…" he looked unconvinced, "I don't understand why you would leave when you are not drawn to the sea."

Thranduil smiled. "It is not the sea, but the company who would draw me to Valinor. If the two people I love the most are across the sea, then that is where I belong. And you belong with me," he added softly.

A smile, that special, entirely genuine one that Legolas saved just for him, spread across his face. His eyes, once again, became slightly damp. Thranduil's heart sighed in contentment; he wanted to see that smile, completely free from shadow, more often. "Alright," Legolas grinned. "If that is the king's will."

Thranduil smirked. "It is."

They sat in contented silence for a while longer. The younger elf returned to his position, half leaning against the pillows, half resting against his father. Slow and steady won the race, and the Elvenking decided it was time for the next hurdle.

"So…" the king forced his voice to sound casual, "you aren't really friends with that dwarf, are you?"

He was rewarded with a snicker. "Ada, stop."

Translations

ion-nin – my son

Tithen pen – Little One

Ada - Dad

lasse pen - Little leaf