Well, here it be. The last chapter. I told Cassia and Sio that I'd have this done, and I swore to myself I'd have it in before the last chapter of the Mellon Chronicles. So here it is, entirely completed, entirely done. Complete… how sweet the sound. A pretty wretched present, but Cassia and Sio- this goes out to you. This also goes out to everyone who's prodded me, yelled at me, cursed me, thanked me, and inspired me. Especially my pushy muses; Rhonda and Alex. For endings, and for beginnings- I give you, Risk of Yesterday.

"Risk of Yesterday"

Author: Spark. Just... Spark.

Email: PG13, for mentions of torture and physical abuse.

Feedback: Very welcome! The bad and the good please! One request, if your telling me it sucks, please... tell me why! EVERY MISTAKE IS MINE ALONE (Because, frankly- I'm an idiot)

Disclaimer: No, for those people who have the strange idea that I am J.R.R.Tolkein and own Lord of the Rings or anything related, I don't. Yup. Sad, but true

Summary: When Aragorn accompanies Legolas home, it brings up issues Legolas would rather leave untouched. But when he is in danger, will the secrets finally be revealed?

Notes: Like Cassia and Sio, I hold the fact that Aragorn was raised by Elrond among Elladan and Elrohir to be true to these stories even if some do not agree.

Fairly Important only to title of story: 'A risk of yesterday' is a phrase I thought would seem like a very elven phrase, meaning it was of the past, it was something that can not be changed, etc... as 'yesterday' to the elves is more or less a greater idea of time. If an elf wanted to literally say it was a risk of the day before, it would make more sense to state a more direct time reference, such as 'yesterday morning' or 'yesterday evening' or such. This is one of Legolas's favorite phrases in my little universe. Don't ask why. Thanks for understanding my odd mind

Elven references Ada Father/Dad Adar 'Formal' Father Mithrandir Gandalf Valar Read the Silmarillion.

To Cassia and Sio…

Chapter 20

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The trip through the palace was from then, thankfully uneventful. Not one of the sneaking miscreants would be able to take much more, the walls themselves seemed to be seeping dread and taxing their minds. Not to mention the constant attention Legolas had to receive to even continue walking, and everyone's nerves enjoying their stay in the lumps of their throats. Even the normally docile wizard was walking with an aggravated step, letting his staff fall awkwardly as if he had suddenly forgotten how to wield it. Thus it was with great trepidation that they arrived before the door leading to the throne room.

The wood upon the doors seemed menacing, the iron niches and joints standing out starkly, as if a whole, separate, cold entity. Or maybe that's just what the wood elf among them thought. And he had stared at them for over three millennia without noticing how wretched they looked, digging into his dear wood. There was no one at the doors to announce them; it would seem Thranduil had wanted Legolas alone- completely alone. That was enough to send any of the small band deeper into paranoia. After a deep breath, Gandalf stood before the group and launched himself at the doors, so as to make them screech in ire before sweeping to allow them entry.

Before them was the grand room, as everyone in attendance had previously seen, but instead of the bustling hub of activity most remembered there were only two occupants of the room. One was King Thranduil, sitting on his thrown with his head hanging and staring at the floor. The other was a golden haired aid, whom was sent away with a flick of his liege's hand once they had heard the door open. There was a long pause as the aid left without another word and left only the small group staring at the top of the elven king's head. His small entwined circlet of a crown didn't hold much of his hair back, and it fell to the sides of his face while he peered, seemingly, at his well made and well worn elven boots. With a small ripple of his hair, the elven king raised his head and glanced at the entire assembly. His eyes did not glint of the evil they thought now possessed him, and some were taken aback- those that would have noticed such things. Now, Elrond feared what a mistake such as this would cause them.

But when the king's eyes lighted on his son, who had pulled away from his supports so as to put up a brave act, there was little relief in finding the glint reappear, an angry miserable sort of glint. "I called for you alone, Prince Legolas." His voice was no different than it had been so many years ago, it was his voice- but the malicious tinge made it sound strange in the ears of those present.

Legolas was about to answer when Lord Elrond intercepted the question. "We thought it best we accompany him, Thranduil." He replied evenly, eyeing the Elven King for a response.

All he received was a very unelven sneer. "Cannot my own son stand before me unaided? Has he grown so weak as to be carried by three elves, a wizard, and a human?" Every word coming from Thranduil's mouth screamed insult at all before him, but as always mostly Legolas, at whom they were directly aimed.

With a definite, though attempted hidden, walk, Legolas began to walk towards his father and liege, is small entourage following behind. They needed to be closer to Thranduil and be near Legolas. Aragorn's heart burned for every derogatory word Legolas strove to endure. Silently he urged his friend to remember it was not his father who spoke, or at least who forced the words. Elrond's human son had more patience for the elven king than Elrond himself did, and he found himself growing more and more angry hearing Thranduil speak. Perhaps it was his astonishment that Thranduil had been so corrupted towards his son, or maybe fear that one of elven kind could be so preyed upon, that forced Elrond's emotions past their normally stoic settings.

"By the Valar, Thranduil! You're son is not weak, he's injured! Surely even you must understand this, son of Oropher." By prying into the past a bit, Elrond hoped to see some of that glint disappear, it had little to do with Legolas, but obviously enough that Thranduil's demeanor refused to change.

With a growl, Thranduil stood to his full height, and glared at his son and those accompanying him. "I understand strength, and I understand power. Weakness and inadequacy I will never fully comprehend. Not to his level." He spat at Legolas, who shut his eyes but continued and struggled till he was but three feet fro Thranduil, who seemed to grow more anxious and irritated as Legolas approached.

"I am glad to see you well, Adar." Was Legolas' only reply, as he bowed before his king with all his remaining strength, feeling himself being torn apart but injuries not long rested. He did not rise not only in honor to his father but as his father said, because of his own weakness, as he could not even pull himself straight.

Far from appeased, Thranduil's sneer only grew at the sight of his humble son. "Returned from abandoning your own kingdom, eh? I'm surprised you came back. You never liked your own wood as much as others. You don't deserve it."

In a quick decision, Gandalf decided to change tactics. "And why would he want this place? Full of darkness and evil, creeping everywhere it's allowed." Legolas looked surprised and extended a worried look to Gandalf. He loved his wood very much, more than any other, and would not give his father any strong proof otherwise. He had imagined enough proof already.

Thranduil swung his head from Legolas to Gandalf at the slight at his wood and suddenly seemed less antagonistic. "I do not let evil roam freely, wizard! I have sent out guard after guard, few return- I am still attempting to keep it all at bay, and I have reclaimed parts of the east wood from their grasp! What more would you have me do, Mithrandir?" In his eyes were only truth and a tortured king behind all his problems. The eyes gazed openly at Mithrandir, as if questioning him as the wizard's eyes slitted and searched for a hint of evil. There was none, not now, not as the king spoke of his forest.

Secure now were Mithrandir's guesses, Thranduil was not now nor ever was completely consumed. Being an elf, whatever horrible evil attempted to control the king had not the power to make an elf succumb to evil, but it could influence an elf in his weakest points. It was as if breaking a fortress many walls thick, even if a single wall is destroyed at a certain point, the fortress could still not be taken, no matter how ruined a certain defense may be. Even in the times of Oropher, one of Thranduil's weakest points had always been in relating to family. His chink in his grand wall of power had been attacked, and it was Legolas who paid the price.

"Perhaps you could have your son lead an expedition. He is an accomplished warrior." Innocently prodded the wizard, evil can only be drawn if evil was present. As if a switch, the glint of anger was apparent in Thranduil's eyes, and gone was the caring king worried over his land. Here was the father immensely displeased with his 'low rate' son. Angered by the very thought of Legolas accepting anything worthwhile, Thranduil became even more visibly irate and moved in front of his son, gripping the front of Legolas' over tunic and forcing it up, Legolas' head with it. The quick jerk of the action and Legolas' weakened reflexes sent him crashing to his knees, and the jaunt pained not only his legs but his healing sides as well, and he let out a hiss behind his gritted teeth.

Giving a small cry, Aragorn practically launched for his friend's side, ready to take the Woodland King's arm off if need be, but he was forcibly restrained by his brothers, and it took both of them to keep the human in control. In the background Thranduil heard the human's cry, but in his vision was only Legolas, attempting not to squirm before him. It was Elrond who sought to get through to him now, though quite sure he wouldn't listen. "Thranduil! What is this that has overtaken you? You love your son, surely you must see there is something wrong!"

The room about them seemed to darken and crackle with angry anticipation as the volume of Thranduil's voice grew, and as his eyes seemed to widen in not only rage but as if struggling to see. "All I see is a useless slab of life! Wasted on something so weak, so piteous. And to think, you were chosen to be an elf! Life is wrong, you deserve none of this. You deserve nothing but DESPAIR! You deserve nothing but PAIN!" Cried Thranduil, suddenly taking Legolas by the throat and lifted him with strength only known to elves to what would be standing level, had Legolas any strength to stand. Legolas simply gave a gargled cry as his hands shot to his father's single hand, cutting off his air. Thranduil saw his son in his grasp and could not and would not have tried to control the rage filtering through him, and punched Legolas in the face with his remaining fist, smiling in relief as he felt his fist connect with the flesh and bone of Legolas' face.

Everyone else in the room rushed to Legolas' aid, but as if on cue, a gust of dark energy seemed to force them back, threatening them with the dark crackles that had been present not moments previous. Aragorn would not be so easily thwarted, and again through himself towards Thranduil and Legolas, but found himself collapsing under not only the force around but the dark memories and thoughts drawn on by this energy, and the feeling of having his mind torn open. "Elrohir! Focus on protecting our minds, Elrond try to force the energy to abate." Gandalf cried, as Elladan ran forward to pull his brother back, as much as he wanted to rush forward himself. The energy appeared as gusts of wind, ripping at Gandalf as if trying to stop him from preparing his attack.

At his call, Elrohir ran forward before the others and began to shut his mind to the energy around, as Gandalf had taught him for the last month or so. It was as if he placed a shield in front of his mind and memories, against the torrent of despair that rushed them, while still attempting to force it to him as if he was an elven lightning rod. Gritting his teeth, he felt his eyes forced closed by the sheer power of the darkness before him and was too busy struggling to keep the evil away from his family too attempt to see what was going on around him. 'C'mon Elrohir, they're counting on you... they're counting on you...' Chanted his mind as he attempted to close it off to all else.

A great deal due to Elrohir's valiant attempts to guard the minds from the onslaught of evil, Elrond's attempts to force back the energy were largely productive. It was still grievously difficult, by Elrond was strengthened and hurried by the thought of the woodelf prince who needed his care. With Legolas' suffering in mind, Elrond pushed on, and his mind attempted to force a way through the energy. Trapped in his mind, he waded through the energy as if it was a fast rushing river, and he had to make a path for the wizard. Elrond also clamped his eyes shut, partly to concentrate and partly to close off the horrid picture of Legolas struggling at the hands of his own father. With another growl at the thought, Elrond forded through the energy with all speed, and when he again opened his eyes and ripped them from Legolas, he saw Mithrandir was prepared.

A nod from the Noldor elf was all the wizard needed, as he suddenly pushed himself forward and held his staff before him. "King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, hearken to me!" He yelled, and though he felt the weakening Elrond did, it was with much effort that he resisted the swarms of power against him. With a yell, Elrohir fell to the ground as he felt the energy charge and nearly overpower him, attempting to snatch, or at least halt, the wizard. "El!" Cried Elladan as he picked up his brother, whose forehead gleaned with sweat and eyes were still clenched, still battling the energy to keep it at bay. Aragorn finally regained his feet and refocused his eyes only to gaze upon Legolas, stills struggling in his fathers grasp. Though Thranduil had partially turned towards Mithrandir, he refused to let go of his son, who continued to gasp silently, attempting to press air between his father's tight clenched fingers. In his father's eyes he saw only anger and hatred, and he felt remorseful even now, and could not bring himself to fear that which would now kill him, even if he saw only a stranger in his beloved father.

Gandalf again called to the battling elf. "Thranduil, HEARKEN TO ME!" This time, the elven king found the call impossible to deny, and his head wrenched towards Mithrandir, his attention riveted. With a surprised gasp, Legolas found himself free even as his vision darkened, and falling for a split second as he had in his escape from the fortress and fall from the ladders. With a hard crash, he felt himself tumble onto the floor as if dead weight, and he had not the strength to cry out while his mind begged Mithrandir not to hurt his father.

The wizard focused on the evil he saw in Thranduil's eyes, saw it as clearly as the hinges upon the wooden door, sticking out as if wrongly placed. He knew he could separate the two; they did not belong together, and had not combined. Feeling the gaping hole left him by Elrond, he pushed his hand forward with his hand and whispered. "I release you from this spell." His quiet incantation flew from his mouth to Thranduil, who immediately flew backwards into his thrown as if shoved. The dark energy around them began to dissipate, and they all stood in wonder as the room lightened and Gandalf began to shrink down from exertion.

The only one who did not stand mesmerized was Legolas, who immediately started crawling to the thrown, not a foot away. Tears streamed down his face thanks to the excruciating pain his body exuded and he continued to gag when he swallowed too much air, but he forced himself to grip his fathers thrown and pull himself up. "Adar, adar?"

Responding to Legolas' call, Thranduil's still weaving head righted itself enough to stare at his son as his sight began to clear. Suddenly, he squinted at the elf struggling up his thrown, feeling an instinct to aid whoever it was before he even recognized who it was. "Legolas!" Thranduil immediately and purposefully fell to his knees before Legolas and pulled Legolas into a leaning position in his arms so he could stop forcing his body to sit up. "Legolas, what happened to you? Are you alright... you're, you're grown." Whispered Thranduil, his eyes wide in surprise and confusion. "What, what...?" He began to search his mind and found naught but darkness, and Gandalf forced his mind elsewhere.

"Much happened, my friend. Do you not know the year?" Mithrandir asked concerned. He had not expected Thranduil to lose his memory...

Thranduil gazed at those around, an open confusion still evident on his face, though he would normally have never allowed any such prestigious guests to see him so. "Of course I know the ye... That would make you over three millennia old!" Cried Thranduil to his son he held in his arms, as if searching him. "But I don't remember..."

Grimacing, Mithrandir mourned with the king. He had retained all his memories, but those of Legolas had not been his to retain, the only place poisoned by some evil wizard. It was cruel indeed for a father to not remember the years of his son. 'I will have my revenge, for these I see before me.' Thought the tired wizard as he silently cursed whichever wicked one of his kind would do such a thing. He must discuss this with Sarumon; he would know what to do. But first, there was a family here that needed him. "Your son is in fact over three millennia old Thranduil. This surprises you?"

"The last.. the last I remember..." Thranduil tried to push past all his nightmares that were so prominent in his mind, to his surprise, to force his memory back into function. "You were but five hundred seventeen years old. You were training... for the Warriors Challenge, it was being held that year... " Thranduil put a hand through Legolas' hair and redirected his attention to him. "Did you win?"

Legolas gazed at his father, deliberating whether or not to answer. If he did answer, they'd know for sure if Thranduil was as in control of his mind as he had been so many years ago, but Legolas was not sure if he wanted to know if they had failed. "Nay, father- I lost. Glorfindel beat me, rather badly. I outscored him in archery, though. And I won both not six hundred years later." He said quickly and raspily as if trying to placate a calm elven lord.

Thranduil looked down at his son and felt his haggard breaths. "You did wonderfully, and I'm sure you did well even without the archery, if your heart and will were in the games. Imagine, someone five centuries old competing... why I ever allowed you to do that..." Thranduil stopped suddenly as he stared at his son, more specifically his pain but joy filled eyes. "You're injured, why didn't you say so..." Suddenly he turned to Elrond, as if remembering he was there, and flooded with relief. "Lord Elrond, will you aid my son?" He asked as he carefully stood, his son in his arms.

Everyone around was simply staring at Thranduil as if unsure whether to come any closer, but Elrond felt Legolas' safety much more important at the moment, and hurried to take Legolas from Thranduil, much to Thranduil's surprise. He enlisted Aragorn's help, who rushed to aid him and soothe Legolas' pains. "I've waited to hear you say that for some time, King Thranduil." Replied Elrond before hurrying off, and motioning his twins to follow him, Elladan aiding Elrohir to rise.

The small spite in Elrond's voice surprised Thranduil as he watched the Noldor race away with his son, presumably to aid him. Thranduil quirked his head slightly, frowning as he did so. "I fear I've offended him, though I know not how." Mithrandir laid a hand on the elf's shoulder and smiled sympathetically, leading him towards the door that lead to the elvenking's study.

"We have much to speak on, my friend, and I have much to explain." The room stood empty until a few attendants peaked in and began to dust a sculpture or straighten a wall hanging after they saw their liege had retired. From afar, you could almost hear cries of anger coming from Orthanc. Almost. But the calm breeze carried such sounds away, replacing it with the sweet song of the birds and the trees. And from the windows, light that still remained in Mirkwood shone, wiping away the shadows as if they were risks of yesterday.

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EPILOGUE

It was with much despair and mourning that Thranduil learned of his deeds, and he could not bring himself to even look at his son, no matter how much he wished to beg his forgiveness. He had in due time apologized to and thanked Mithrandir, Elrond, and his twin sons, and had received some redemption in their forgiveness and softened eyes. He had not yet seen his son's ranger friend, the son of Elrond, whom he had not met but had heard of in the past. Obviously the young man had not left Legolas' side the entire time his son resided in the infirmary, which spoke wonders of the boy's loyalty in Thranduil's eyes, despite the man's lineage.

His kingdom was entirely in order, and he could remember every moment of the two and a half millennia the cursed wizard had had his hand in his mind, which was mostly to Thranduil's shame. He could so easily retain his wits when referring to his kingdom, but when it came to his son whom he loved so dearly- oh how he hated himself now! Had he not had a son and a kingdom to live for, he surely would have died in grief and shame combined, he felt more than enough of both.

Thus it was a full week before he brought himself to see his son. Even as he stepped towards the infirmary, he swore at himself for his idiocy, at his own weakness, his own inadequacy that brought Legolas to this condition. He had cried silent tears before, and now he was barely holding them back as he turned the room to where his son was located. There, on the bed, sat his son, who had insisted to be let up to eat, tired of lying like a useless log. And there beside him sat a much relieved and joyous ranger, who was much pleased with how quickly Legolas was healing. But as soon as he saw the Elf King approach, he stiffened. He had never seen anything of the elf king but the two or three instances he had been in his presence, and every memory was evil, even most of the last. Now he was loathe to leave him alone with Legolas, but he knew the generous amount Legolas loved his father, and his wishes to see his father, and his sorrow that he was too ashamed to see him. He had rightly guessed that one.

Once Aragorn saw Thranduil's remorseful eyes, however- he could not think of separating the two. Who was he to keep a worried father from his son? Thus with a smile he patted Legolas' hands, and then bowed to the king, and left. Legolas had acknowledged Aragorn's departure, but even then he had no eyes but for his father, who stood in his room. Silently he begged the elf to come forward and talk to him. "Adar..."

Even as he heard the word, his heart broke. How, HOW could he have done those things to his son? He didn't understand, he couldn't comprehend, and he tore himself in two simply thinking on it. But right now he didn't have time for agony, he wanted to see to his son. With a quick step, Thranduil sat himself on the bed next to Legolas, hoping to the Valar his son didn't loathe him, and ready to leave if he did. "Legolas, I... Legolas... Legolas, do- do you want me to leave?"

With a sad smile Legolas gingerly took is worrying father's hand in his own while putting his remaining food on the nightstand nearby, despite his still slight lack of strength. Here was his father, his father as he remembered. He had a much easier time remembering than anyone else, but that's because he had wished it so for so long, even if he hadn't admitted it. "Ada, I want anything but. Please, stay. Talk with me, I've missed you." Replied Legolas honestly.

Thranduil began shaking his head slowly, listening to Legolas' innocent answer and not able to hold back his tears. Immediately, he let go of Legolas' hand and crushed him towards him as gently as he could while embracing him. He allowed his own head to lie of Legolas' shoulder and began weeping openly, his golden hair blending perfectly with his son's. "Legolas, Legolas! How could I... I couldn't, I'm horrible... You must hate me... Forgive me." As soon as he said it between his tears he regretted it. Who was he to ask Legolas' forgiveness? Who was he to touch him, speak with him, see him? Perhaps he should simply allow Elrond to take him home to Rivendell, no matter how much he wanted Legolas with him...

Legolas smiled happily and yet also with much sorrow as he listened to his father speak, and he began to cry as well, as he clenched his father to him. "It wasn't your doing father... It wasn't you, I know it. I don't think you're horrible, or weak for letting it happen. I'm just glad to have you with me, so happy..." He burrowed his face in his father, as he longed to do for so many times before, so many times... "And I have forgiven you, and forgive you still. I love you father, and I pray I still have your love."

"Oh my Legolas," Thranduil said as he continued in the bliss of holding his son, "I love you too- I love you so much."

And so it happened that father and son were again rejoined. After wizard, rebellion, and injury attempted to draw them apart, their love was too unbreakable to be harmed. Trust for many was slow coming, but not for each other- their love blinded even what logic would tell them, as it had for Legolas so many years. Elrond finally decided he was comfortable leaving Legolas in Mirkwood, after seeing how happy he was, but left Aragorn, much to the rangers joy. Both to allow Aragorn his desire to stay close to Legolas during this hard time and to kidnap Legolas should anything in Thranduil's demeanor change as drastically as it had. That never happened. Gandalf rode off to Orthanc to search for the perpetrator of this horrid crime- but to no avail. And so Mirkwood continued for many more years, and never were father and son wrenched away from each other for longer than a year until much later- when there was a certain ring that needed to be destroyed.

THE END

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Notes: Well, there it is! I wanted a story somewhat like this, though it changed drastically as ideas hit me. In the end- I'm just glad to have finished. I wanted a story that gave some foreshadowing to Sarumon's evils in the attempted takeover of Rohan while easing my own curiosity: Could an elf be taken over as Theoden was? Answer: No, not completely as Theoden, but yes, somewhat, but their strength keeps them from complete control.

Also, I decided to add in this chapter that Sarumon is forced from Thranduil's mind by Gandalf's short incantation, which also shows somewhat why he'd be confused that it didn't work on Theoden, in the movies. (Not exactly a movie lover, but believe me- I've seen them.)

I DO NOT THINK THRANDUIL WAS A BAD FATHER. Well, he was in this story- but I mean, canon wise. I don't believe it's in an elf (other than ones twisted by darkness/evil) to act this way.

Dr. Peppers to all reviewers, I'll get to you next chapter… well, not another chapter, it's DONE (whoooo!) but you get what I mean.

Hmm... I'm sure there is more, but I don't feel like addressing it. Feel free to email me if you have questions. Or review, and put in your email .

-Tips Dr. Peppers to Cassia and Sio- Hats off to you. Thanks for all you've done. Keep in touch . Oh, and congratulations, for finishing such a wonderful and well loved collection like the Mellon Chronicles.