A Leaf in the Wind

At first, he was not sure what woke him up.

The Shadow was gone from Eryn Lasgalen. His people were able to enjoy peace for the first time since his coronation.

Then, he remembered.

He was not king anymore, was he? He was just another elf amongst thousands who had travelled to Aman during the Third and Fourth Age of Middle-Earth. The Valar did not acknowledge titles (not the title of Sindar lords anyway), which was both a relief and reason for concern. He was concerned because his people... no, the former inhabitants of Greenwood… did not stop viewing him as their king simply because the Valar wished it. On the other hand, he could not help but enjoy this newfound freedom with that tremendous burden lifted off of his shoulders. It was a privilege to talk to his son without their responsibilities weighing down on them and...

Legolas.

His heart clenched. All of a sudden, he knew the reason for waking and reprimanded himself for not realizing it sooner. He quickly rose and left his chambers.

His son was probably by himself grieving for the loss of his beloved friend.

Thranduil would lie if he claimed to not have seen this coming. He never approved of his son's numerous mortal friends; not because they were not worthy of befriending his son - each and every single one had proven again and again their loyalty to Legolas - it was because their company could never compensate for the pain his son had to endure when Eru claimed yet another mortal soul. This was worse, though. With Gimli, his last connection to his Heart Brothers of the Fellowship was gone. Gandalf could never truly measure up to that, he was too detached, too eternal to fill the hole all those mortal deaths had carved into his son's far too kind heart.

On his way out, he encountered Brilthor, one of his son's oldest friends.

"My... Thranduil," the young elf stuttered and the former King of Eryn Lasgalen would have smiled if he had not felt so much dread.

"Have you seen Legolas?" Thranduil asked.

"No, my... Thranduil," answered the younger elf. He also seemed concerned. "I have been looking for him. Sûlil lost sight of him and Glanduin is not with him."

The feeling of trepidation intensified. The former king however managed to reign in his fears.

"Surely, he's just gone off to be on his own," said he.

"My Lord, I..." Thranduil lifted his hand.

"But we have no intention of letting him dwell on dark thoughts. Sûlil will go to the shore, while you and Glanduin search for him in his favourite parts of the woods and I will look inside of the cave that was Master Gimli's refuge."

It became clear to him just how much Legolas had cherished his friendship to Gimli when Thranduil entered that cave, for how his freedom and forest-loving son could voluntarily enter this piece of rock was beyond him.

"Legolas?" he called softly and his voice carried through every corner of the cave.

"He is not here," a voice spoke. Only when he emerged from the shadows, the king recognized him.

"Aulë," Thranduil said, surprised. "I did not know you dwelled here."

"I do not. This was my Child's favourite place in Aman and here I will remember him," said the mighty being in front of him. The master of all crafts was grieving, his eternal eyes so terribly sad that it was hard to hold his gaze.

"I..." Thranduil did not know what to say.

"Do not begrudge their friendship," Aulë said softly. "I am saying it and so will your son when you ask him. The grief is worth those brief years they spent as friends. I only wish that I possessed the gift of granting immortality to those I created."

"Immortality is no one's gift to give but for Eru," Thranduil replied, unwilling to leave the Valar alone in his sorrow.

"Ha!" Aulë exclaimed. "And it is said you do not see as far as your noble kin."

Thranduil smiled a little.

"Legolas was here yesterday. And the day before that," Aulë added, looking concerned. "I believe he is the only reason why my beloved hasn't ripped me from this place by force."

Thranduil did not think there was anyone more delighted in regards to the unlikely friendship between a dwarf and a woodelf than Aulë and Yavanna. Both lamented Gimli's death.

"I will come with you," the Valar spoke. "Your son has finally started to understand the secrets of rock and stone and I would not want my Child's work to be undone by grief."

Together they went back to Thranduil's current home. On their way back, Aulë's spouse encountered them with a smile, thanking Thranduil for fetching her husband. If the benevolent insult had not been directed at Aulë, the former king of Eryn Galen would have given a less than dignified answer. Once they explained to her why they were here, she looked distinctly worried.

"Lady Yavanna, please, do you know where he is?" Thranduil pleaded.

"My love?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, husband. They wouldn't make such a decision without at least consulting us."

"What are you saying?" Fear, as old as the first time he had held that small bundle that was his newborn son so many centuries ago, nearly swallowed the Sindar lord.

"The others are worried about Legolas' anguish. His thoughts may not be dark, but the trees love him and they echo his hurt. It dims the glow of Valinor. Some fear that Gimli's death could not be borne by the power of Light," she said. "The deaths of the Great Ring-Bearers started it, but they fear that this gloom might consume the light of Aman."

"They compare my son to Ungoliant?" Thranduil thundered incredulously.

"No, no, but they believe that his willingness to live with the pain could darken his heart," she answered, clearly not agreeing.

"He promised Gimli, and King Elessar, to remain and remember. He promised me to live no matter how dark the world may seem. How can the Valar judge such commitment? Do they want him to just fade away? He is a warrior of Greenwood. If we just gave up when hardship strikes, Dol Guldur would have swallowed us centuries past."

With quick strides, only vaguely hearing the master of crafts and the lady of fruits following him, he continued to move towards his quarters. Ethiron saw him and even from afar, his life-long friend and trusted advisor knew that something was wrong; something that concerned Legolas.

"Thranduil?" he asked after he quickly approached them.

"Brilthor, Sûlil, your son…" the former king of Greenwood began. He did not bother wasting time explaining matters to his friend. "They are still looking for him. Fetch them, as well as all those who worry about his fate."

"You want me to fetch all of Greenwood, Imladris and Ithilien? Thranduil, this is madness, what is happening?"

"That, only Valar can say."

For once, the old saying was true.

In the end, due to his unwillingness to wait, Thranduil Elvenking stood before the Valar all by himself. Normally, he would have been respectful. Normally, he would be patient. However, this was about Legolas. None of the usual courtesies applied here.

They had made him one elf among thousands. The Valar themselves had made it possible for him to be a father first for the first time in his son's life.

By Eru, he intended to be just that.

"Where is Legolas?" he demanded bluntly, his eyes sought Manwë Súlimo.

"Please, be calm, Thranduil Oropherion," Elbereth, or Varda as they called her here, said softly. Her face was too beautiful for words and yet, Thranduil still believed her beauty to be too otherwordly to be called thus. She was Light, but it faded in comparison to his late wife. "May I ask for the reason of your disquiet?"

For the briefest of moments, he heard Ethiron's voice telling him to think before he spoke, but the thought of Legolas' unknown fate discarded that well-trusted voice of reason.

"It is said that you hear farther than any other living creature when you stand beside your spouse. I think this belief either needs to be recertified, or you are purposely misunderstanding me. Nevertheless, I shall repeat myself: Where Is My Son?"

"How dare you speak like this?" Oromë thundered and if his worry and love for Legolas had been any less strong, Thrandulil would have recoiled in the face of the mighty lord's anger. He was well aware that those beings could kill him right where he stood. He was an accomplished warrior, but it was an illusion to think that he was a match to the Valar: it would be like a human child in an archery competition against Legolas…With the exception that the Valar would not let him win.

In this moment, he did not care, but his anger was gone, and all that remained was dread.

"Please, if you know, tell me," he pleaded, his eyes fixed upon the Lady of the Stars.

"I… do not know," she said. "He has gone beyond my hearing and sight."

"No," he whispered. He looked about until he saw Mandos.

"His soul has not departed," the Doomsman said. "However, he no longer dwells in Aman."

"He went back to Arda?"

Good.

He would talk to Círdan. Surely, the Telerin would help him build a ship. Legolas' small vessel delighted him, unwilling to believe that a woodelf could build a ship for the Sea all by himself.

Thranduil had come here only to reunite with his son and wife, only to realize that his wife was still in the Halls of Mandos, and probably would not leave for millennia, if not after the Ending of All Things.

If his son was gone, he had no reason to stay.

It was almost amusing that he seemed to be more attached to Arda than some of the Silvan elves who had followed him.

"No," Manwë spoke and Thranduil thought that the Lady of the Stars looked startled at the exclamation.

"Then where is he?"

"He has gone to the homeland of the Edain."

Silence. Even though they were far away from the shore, Thranduil could hear the waves of the sea.

"I beg your pardon?" he said after what seemed like an eternity.

"He has gone through Elenandon, the Ring of Illùvatar," the mightiest of the Valar continued.

Thranduil froze. He knew of the Gate to the Stars, but the songs were nothing but a faint memory as if those who first sung of them had only heard of it but not seen it themselves.

"I do not understand." Only for the sake of Legolas did he allow himself to admit his ignorance.

"The Secondborn were neither born nor awoken in Arda," Elbereth spoke, her fair voice soothing Thranduil's sore heart. "Long ago, those who called themselves Lanteans came to Valinor. They believed our ways to be… simple," Thranduil could barely suppress the smirk that stole itself on his lips. That slight had stung. "However, they admired the craft of Fëanor. With the design of the Lanteans and the substances of Aulë, the first of the Elenandon was built. On its own nothing but beautiful craftsmanship, but several Elenandondi, if placed on other Worlds, was an effortless method to visit the Stars. Fëanor built five more gates and in return, the Lanteans let all those Eldar who desired to visit the Stars go with them."

"I know this as it is part of Song, but I did not know that the Edain came through the Gate of Valinor," Thranduil said impatiently.

"They did not. One gate was placed on Arda, but it is long lost. Through this gate, the Edain came and we welcomed them for we knew of their coming since the beginning of time."

"I see. What does this have to do with Legolas?"

"The homeland of the Edain is in great danger. Mandos has seen this," Manwë spoke. "We offered Legolas the chance to help."

He should be angry, no, furious, but Thranduil felt numb because he could see it clearly.

All too clearly.

The Valar – all but Ulmo who was still at Sea, Nienna forever dwelling alone, Aulë, Yavanna and, given the way Elbereth regarded her spouse, the Lady of the Stars – told his grief-stricken son of the dangers the Edain faced. Legolas did not like to brood, he never had. He preferred doing something, anything, such as working himself to exhaustion in the form of practice or patrols to discard of the pain.

Also, since the death of Elessar, all that concerned Men was connected to the great King of Gondor. The Valar only had to say that Men were in danger and Legolas would offer his bow.

Thranduil had not known the Powers of Arda could be so crafty.

"How dare you?" his voice shook as he spoke, fury burned white-hot within his heart. "How dare you?"

"Our reasons are not yours to know," said Tulkas.

"They are if they concern my son, but there is no need for you to speak. Lady Yavanna has already told me what you fear. All you had to do was tell me. I would not have wanted my son to stay in a place where he is not welcome."

"The time of the elves is over," Mandos spoke with certainty and Thranduil could barely keep his temper in check.

"I do not care. I would have gone with him, to the homeland of the Edain if you believed that Arda would no longer welcome us. In fact, this is what I am going to do in this very moment. Tell me how to go there."

"We shall not."

Thranduil once more looked upon the face of the High Lord of Valinor.

"Pardon me?"

"If you go, all of Greenwood will follow. The Edain would not receive help, they would receive saviors, and that would hinder their growth. It is time for them to be free. Legolas has proven before that he can be a silent watchman, a simple leaf in the forest, and still be a valiant warrior capable of aiding those who turn the wheels of the world."

In this moment, Thranduil knew that no speech could ever sway the Powers of Arda in their belief.

Their decision was made and so was his.

"Those blasted seagulls ate away my son's happiness for a century," he hissed coldly.

The Lord over the Winds looked as if he had not expected this.

"I did not send them."

Thranduil smiled. It was not a kind smile.

"I did not imply that you did. I am merely proving my point, oh Manwë the Great. Lord over the Winds you are and all those that live there are at your beck and call, yet you had no power over a few seagulls."

When Thranduil paused, nobody spoke. He wondered if his words were heard. He was capable of speech, but his words never possessed the kind of power that Fëanor had.

"When the Noldor left, a terrible oath was spoken, but I am not of the Noldor and I will speak no oath, however I cannot remain in a land that rejected my son. Farewell, oh Great Powers of Arda. You are not enemies, but those who use my son's grief for their own meddling certainly do not count as friends of mine."

"How do you intend to leave?" Irmo asked.

"If I have to, I will Swim."

"That won't be a necessity. I wouldn't want you to Drown in the Sea of Stars, my old friend."

Elrond's voice had him turn around. There stood Legolas' friends, Elrond and Celebrían, Ethiron and members of Greenwood he had not truly spoken to in many months. He was so very proud of his people.

"Either we build a ship on our own, or we shall ask Círdan. There is no need for you to Swim," the Elven Lord's eyes were unreadable: he seemed both enraged and strangely mischievous as if… It seemed Thranduil was not the only one who felt oddly misplaced in the Elven Home.

"We?"

"If you believe that we will let you go by yourself, you are sorely mistaken," said Elrond.

"We are loyal to Eryn Lasgalen and the royal family, my king," Brilthor said. If he sounded a bit breathless, speaking before all of the Valar, Thranduil could not blame him. "Our hearts are yours."

"We shall remain here," Aulë spoke, hand enveloped in Yavanna's, "so that your beloved will know where to go when she emerges from the Halls of Mandos. Good luck, Thranduil Elvenking, you will be missed."

A/N: This is the beginning of a story that I always wanted to write. Not sure if there are any LotR or Stargate SG-1 fans left on this site... Not to mention a single reader who wants to read a crossover...

For those who read the entire thing: thanks. If you could leave a comment, that would be wonderful.

Dedicated to my old friend Jedi Sapphire. Jedi: As you can see, I did some rewrites from what I sent you ages ago, because I decided to create my own Greenwood, but that is not to say that I don't adore the world you created and that my characters are not heavily inspired by yours :) I hope you are well! Thanks for all the email conversations about this story.