Chapter 48

Thranduil sat and watched over his son with a heavy heart. The pale, wan figure resting in the bed beside him was almost a shadow. Legolas' frame had ever been slender, belying the strength and muscle within it but now, now it seemed as if he could be carried away by so much as a single breath of air. The fair face, usually so animated and full of vitality was almost lifeless in its repose, eyes shuttered and blank, their brilliant green light doused by pain and exhaustion, cheeks sunken and grey from horrors the king could not bear to contemplate and lips almost blue in the light from the single lamp his son had begged him not to extinguish before sleep had finally claimed him.

After a fraught and unsure embrace the floodgates had opened and once Legolas had started to talk it was as if the tale had taken on a life of its own, pouring from his son in waves of pain filled narration that had almost torn Thranduil's heart apart. That Legolas could not bear to meet his gaze throughout the telling was the worst part however, his shame filled eyes fixed on a point visible only within and which Thranduil would have given anything to be able to erase.

At last the torrent of words had ceased and silence had grown thick between them as each wrestled with emotions they had long ago buried the knowledge of how to share with the other. How he wished it had not been so. His son had lain, broken and defeated before him, his soul bared as never before, needing so much yet he had struggled to find the words to offer comfort, to begin to help piece him back together. It was only when Legolas had begun to shrink back upon the pillows in an attitude of utter defeat that Thranduil had finally found his voice, allowing his heart full reign, and in that moment he had known that, although it would not be easy, he would never allow anything to come between them again. How had he ever allowed this most precious of gifts from the Valar, who had saved his very soul from being lost to wander, houseless for eternity, slip out of heart and mind so far and for so long?*

The figure on the bed shifted slightly with a sigh of breath and Thranduil tensed as Legolas' fingers began to clutch at the white sheet beneath them. Another shift, this time accompanied by a low moan had the king on his feet wondering whether to wake his son or wait, until he saw those same fingers relax their hold as Legolas once more settled into peaceful sleep.

Seating himself slowly once more the king began to review his son's revelations. The darkness spreading through his kingdom was of no surprise and he had long felt that its origin must be around the old fortress of Amon Lanc but had no idea that it had become the home of one of the defeated Sauron's Nazgul. In all honesty however, he knew that if he had, it would have made no difference. He would still have withdrawn his people from the area, brought them to shelter within his halls and cut himself off from the world. As long as his people were safe it mattered not what was happening elsewhere.

Consequences, he had never spared a thought for the consequences.

A shudder went through him as he reached forward to brush a stray hair from his son's forehead. Here was living proof of the folly of his thinking, proof that because of his single minded arrogance, had so very nearly been lost to him for good. He knew it would not be easy but changes needed to be made and as he watched over the one who meant more to him than any other in all of Arda his resolve hardened and a plan began to form in his mind.

~o~

Aragorn awoke to a persistent full ache in his bladder that had him scrambling out from underneath his covers in some haste. Making his way to the communal facilities he relieved himself with a satisfied sigh before the rumbling of his stomach pointed out his bodies other need, reminding him of the fact that he had not eaten since the day before entering the Kings Hall. A few steps took him out into the main corridor where he then followed the delicious scents that spoke of breakfast and had his mouth watering in anticipation before finding himself suddenly blinded as a pair of hands reached out from behind to cover his eyes and a voice whispered softly into his ear.

"Caught off guard again Ranger!" The quiet exclamation was followed by a low chuckle and the removal of his fleshly blindfold. "This is becoming a habit."

Turning swiftly on his heels Aragorn scowled in mock annoyance at the grinning pair now standing before him.

"I was merely indulging your need for foolish frivolity," he retorted, attempting to mimic the world weary style his adopted father oft used when dealing with his sons. "Your orcish footsteps upon the flagged floor behind me had already given you away."

Laughter erupted from the trio as Aragorn clasped each brother by the shoulder.

"Come," he grinned. "The scent of good food is increasing my hunger every moment and you know how bad tempered us humans get if we are not fed. Besides," he added more earnestly. "I would soonest know how Legolas fares."

With nods and murmurs of agreement the twins happily fell in behind as he led them into the dining hall and over to a table laden with such an assortment of comestibles that even a hobbit would be hard pressed not to fill themselves to bursting.

A few choice cuts of meat, some full flavoured cheese and a hunk of freshly baked seeded bread, still warm and smothered in honey later, the brothers emptied their cups of fragrant tea, rose as one and strode out in search of news.

Reluctant to enter the royal quarters after the feelings of guilt his last sojourn there elicited, Aragorn led the way to the throne room, fully expecting to find the king in attendance. It was empty. A cold finger of dread meandered down he young man's spine, he could never recall a time when Thranduil could not be found here. Even in times of celebration and rejoicing, when the rest of his household were making merry and dancing under the stars, his friend's father had held himself aloof. Never allowing any to forget that it was he who ruled here, not even himself. Turning questioning eyes to his brothers he beheld his own disbelief mirrored in theirs.

"Where?"

"Legolas!"

Aragorn's tremulous answer to the twin's synchronous question had left his mouth without conscious thought and his heart began to race. Surely Legolas lived! He had heard his voice last night, albeit weak and thin. He took a deep breath, commonsense dictated that they would have been told if the prince's state had deteriorated. If nothing else but to make use of the twins healing knowledge. His heart rate slowed as in his mind he heard again the small, cracked voice of his friend and remembered too the unguarded love and emotion in Thranduil's reply. Of course, he smiled. He knew exactly where the king was. He was where he should be and with that thought he turned towards the exit, intending to seek him out, leaving his perplexed brothers to stand and wonder where he was going.

~o~

Legolas slowly opened eyes reluctant and full of dried tears to a room bathed in gentle, suffused light radiating down from skylights expertly crafted into the rocky ceiling overhead. The soft, snuffling noises that had encouraged him from slumber continued unabated as his sleep fogged mind tried to make sense of what exactly he was hearing and where he was. Turning his head slowly from one side to the other he took in the familiar surroundings of his room and as his eyes finally lit on the still figure, curled up in the armchair beside his bed, memories from the night before came flooding back. Slowly and quietly easing himself into an upright position he allowed himself to study his father's face. Softened by repose the features had lost the stern, forbidding style that the younger elf was more used to, replaced instead by a softer, almost youthful appearance. The face of a father rather than a king and one he could not remember seeing for many a long year. His mind wandered back over the words they had shared before sleep finally overtook him and he wondered how he had ever thought this elf before him to be uncaring and hostile. How their paths had separated so widely, the gulf between them appearing to widen with every meeting until they were as alienated as strangers, each beholding the other with hostile, wary eyes. Each never giving the other an inch but prepared to take a mile.

How easy it had been then for the darkness to creep into his heart.

Tears began to form once more as he thought back upon what he had done and the end had so nearly wrought. How could he have allowed himself to become so twisted, so rotten inside as to wish death upon his own father, never mind the depravities that had gone before? How had he blindly believed that he had the right to kill, to actually enjoy the act itself indeed to crave it without once questioning why his heart felt so leaden in his chest and his fëa seemed to quail with every pleasurable rush his body experienced? A long shuddered sigh wracked his body as he wondered if this was indeed how orcs were created. If the stories from his childhood were true his heart bled for the elves who had been so corrupted then nearly stopped when he realised how close he may have been to joining their number.

A rustle from the chair pulled Legolas from these desperate thoughts and as his eyes re focused they met those of the older elf, sharp and blue as a summer's sky after rain.

"Legolas."

The love infused into that single word nearly broke the young elf's heart.

"Ada."

A tremulous whisper was all he could manage in return as his eyes dipped to the sheet clutched and twisted between his fingers.

"Ion nin."

A strong hand covered his own, the thumb gently caressing away the tension within and allowing him to grant the tortured fabric its freedom.

"Ada, I…" He began but was shushed into silence.

"No, Legolas." Thranduil's words were soft but firm. "No more recriminations or apologies." He continued, his thumb now drawing tender circles upon Legolas' wrist. "We must only look forward now, not back. There have been mistakes upon both sides. Both sides." He emphasized, placing a single finger over the younger elf's lips which had been opened to remonstrate. "But we shall learn from them and move on." He smiled widely before adding strongly. "Together."

As he gazed upon Thranduil's face Legolas saw naught but love and understanding and finally accepted the truth. His father had really and truly forgiven him. He also understood that the king was telling him that it was time to forgive himself but he knew that would not be an easy path to tread.

"Now." Thranduil said crisply, before pulling his son into a swift hug. "If you feel up to visitors, I believe there is someone just about to request admittance." Leaning back to stare into his son's eyes he continued. "Shall I allow him entry, or would you prefer me to send him back to his brothers to wait until you feel stronger. I know he is anxious to see how you fare."

These last words were accompanied by three sharp taps at the door and Legolas smiled softly as his father raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I…" He licked nervous lips. "I think I would like to see him father."

A cold dread suddenly gripped the young elf's heart. What if the young man outside looked upon him now with the anger and revulsion he felt he deserved?

"But…" The sheet was once more gripped tightly in both hands.

"Please…" He faltered once more, despising himself for appearing weak,

"Would you stay with me?"

Risking a glance at his father's face Legolas was relieved to see a gentle smile of understanding painting it with a soft glow.

"Of course, ion nin." Thranduil replied. "For as long as you need me, I will be here."

Leaning down the king kissed the top of Legolas' head then turned to face the door as another rat a tat tat echoed through the room.

"Men are such impatient creatures!" He exclaimed in mock exasperation, lifting the mood a little such that Legolas managed a small chuckle. "I had better open the door before he knocks it down!"

He paused half way across the room to look back to his son.

"Remember, ion nin," he smiled, tender concern filling his voice. "No more recriminations. He loves you as a brother. You will need none."

With those words he moved towards the door and flung it open, catching the raised fist that was about to rap upon it once more in his own, fierce grip and fixing the young man it belonged to with a steely stare before channeling his most regal tones.

"May I help you young… man?"

"Oh, erm…" Aragorn stuttered, suddenly feeling very young and insignificant. A feeling he had often experienced in the presence of the imposing elf he found himself held captive by. "I was hoping…"

"To see my son?" Thranduil interrupted brusquely before breaking into a wide smile and releasing his hold. "I think that can be allowed. Indeed," he paused to usher Aragorn into the room. "I feel that your presence is just what the healer ordered."

For a moment panic and confusion clouded Aragorn's thoughts as his eyes quickly moved to the bed expecting to see the frantic movements of someone trying desperately to save a life whilst he wondered how the King appeared to be so calm and collected. The sight of his friend, reclining against the soft pillows, alone and nervously plucking at the white sheet covering his slender form eventually penetrated his distraught mind however and he sighed in relief before glancing back to Thranduil who simply nodded and smiled as if he could read his every thought.

"Legolas."

Approaching the bed Aragorn was suddenly at a loss for words, his friend's name the only one his mouth seemed able to form and then in such whispered tones it almost seemed like a prayer.

"Legolas."

The young elf mustered his courage and raised his gaze to meet that of the young man he felt so much for and steeled himself for whatever he saw there. It would break his heart should Aragorn renounce their friendship and replace it with repulsion and hatred but he would understand why after all he had put him through.

Time seemed to still for both and a thousand unspoken utterances spilled into the space between them, filling it with all the love each had held for the other and speaking of all that still to come before Aragorn found himself seated on the side of the bed with Legolas' hand clasped firmly in his own, stilling the fidgeting fingers and marveling at the fact that his friend was actually alive and present though almost translucent as a ghost.

"Legolas." He smiled as the name flew to his lips once more. "I thought we had lost you." Aragorn continued, finally finding his voice. "I am…"

"I am sorry, Estel." Legolas' broke in, his voice a mere shadow of its former self. "I…"

"Nay!" Aragorn responded, taking back the conversation with a soft smile. "You have no need to apologize mellon nin. Yours is not the blame. 'tis the evil that ensnared you which will be held to count."

Aragorn's thumb brushed over that of its elven counterpart as he spoke as if gently smoothing away the hurts and fears hidden within his friends being and Legolas felt as if his heart would burst for love. Yet he still could not fully believe that this man could forgive when once he knew the completeness of his downfall.

"No, Estel." He forestalled the young man's interruption this time with a raise of his uncaptured hand.

"I must speak," he continued, gaining strength from a glance toward his father who had retreated to the far wall but remained in the room as he had promised and nodded in encouragement.

"Please, hear me out before making any rash decisions about blame and where it should be apportioned," he swallowed convulsively "or about our continued friendship." He ended quietly.

"I will listen, if you wish this, mellon." Aragorn replied softly. "But, know that nothing you can say will change my mind. Whatever you have done, or think you have done." He stressed. "Your mind was not your own, you were compromised by outside influences not of your own making." He reached out and placed his palm over the elf's heart. "I can forgive because I know what is truly inside here." He paused as if to underline his words. "We are brothers of the heart Legolas and my heart tells me you are still the same elf I have always looked up to, respected and loved. No matter what you may feel now, this has not diminished you in my eyes and in fact has made me more in awe of your strength of will."

Legolas was shaking his head from side to side in disbelief as Aragorn continued, his words rolling out in a wave of passion.

"You fought a great fight. Legolas. I saw it in your eyes as you battled with your father. You fought the evil trying to overwhelm you and you won. You won!" He stressed again. "You. No one else but you." Aragorn's had pressed harder onto the elf's chest.

"You beat the darkness back and defeated it and that is why I say I do not need to know the ins and outs of all that happened whilst you were under its influence. As far as I am concerned it is water under the bridge and you are returned to me stronger than ever, still one I am proud to call gwador and walk beside with pride."

He sat back as the torrent of words abated and smiled before adding softly.

"However, I will listen if you still feel you need an ear to hear and help you absolve yourself of the sins you perceive you have committed."

Silence enveloped the room, yet it was not a thick, unkind silence but soothing and cool like a balm applied to an open sore and Legolas finally relaxed under his friends open gaze.

"No," Legolas smiled softly. "I think, maybe for now at least, this is enough Estel." He said and reached out to take the young man's hand. Aragorn still loved him, their friendship survived although he was not completely sure why but he would take this and be grateful. Time might bring his misdeeds into the open but he was no longer afraid if this happened. Estel, Aragorn had not turned away, would never turn away and for this he vowed to follow the man to whatever end the Valar decreed they should face. Together or apart theirs was an unshakeable bond the like of which had been rarely seen in Middle earth.

Thranduil watched the young pair from across the room and smiled, grateful for the love this scruffy, unshaven, unkempt young man held for his son that he had never felt to have. The pair seemed content now to sit in silence basking in the reforged bond of their friendship and he silently slipped from the room unseen.

Moving down the corridor towards his state rooms the king contemplated the plan he had formed whilst Legolas had still slept. The young man would play a key part if Legolas was to become the ambassador Thranduil wished him to become. The half elven family he had been adopted by would be very useful in this endeavor also he mused. His son would need to be able to interact with many different peoples, both elves and men and their diplomatic skills would be most useful indeed. Thranduil himself had no wish to be drawn out of his forest but if he had learned naught else from this incident it was that he could no longer hide from the outside world as if it did not affect them. His son was the perfect choice to represent their kingdom and in doing so would restore his own sense of self-worth along the way.

A wave of nausea suddenly passed over him and Thranduil lurched, needing the support of his hand on the nearby stone wall to maintain his balance. His vision suddenly clouded and the noise of a gathered army assaulted his ears. What was this? Were they under attack again? He shook his head and another wave of nausea followed but this time his vision cleared and before him lay, not the corridor he knew was there but a great black gate topped with grotesque figures who began to gibber and howl down at the small force that waited at its foot. He stood in disbelief as two of the figures resolved into recognizable forms. Those of his son and the young man he called Estel but who looked older, harder and almost regal as he faced the monstrous forms that had begun to pour forth when the gate slowly swung open, raised his sword and called out a strange battle cry the king could not quite catch. As his heart beat faster he watched the pair then exchange a look filled with emotion before they turned to run, blades at the ready, towards the expanding black tide and into a distance that began to blur then fade away till he stood alone in the corridor once more breathless and more afraid than he had ever been in his long life before.

~ FIN~

* 'How had he ever allowed this most precious of gifts from the Valar, who had saved his very soul from being lost to wander, houseless for eternity' - a reference to The Last Greenleaf, the story of 'the birth'of Thranduil's son

'But there was in Thranduil's heart a still deeper shadow. He had seen the horror of Mordor and could not forget it. If ever he looked south its memory dimmed the light of the Sun...' -Unfinished Tales by J.R.R Tolkien"

Authors Notes.

I am unsure if anyone will be interested in this final chapter after all this time but here it is anyway and I do hope if you do read it you find it enjoyable. I apologize greatly for the delay but believe me, it has taken blood, sweat and tears to get to this point and there were many times when I thought it would never get there at all.

Many thanks again to all who have read and especially to those who have taken the time to review my pitiful offering. I do hope that if you are still here you can find it in your hearts to let me have your final thoughts.

Namárië