by Jay of Lasgalen  

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What words could he possibly write?  What words could simultaneously justify this desperate decision, explain the great need for their hopeless quest, and yet reassure Thranduil – at least as far as was possible?

His mission – his evil tidings about the escape of Sméagol – had proved ill news indeed; abruptly changing his resolution to deliver the message, and thence return to the defence of Lasgalen.  He burned now with the need to atone for his people’s failing, and had been elated when Elrond named him as one of the Nine Walkers.

Slowly and hesitantly, he began to write.  ‘My dearest father,’.


Slowly and hesitantly, Thranduil opened the letter.  When his son had not returned from his mission – bearing words which could be entrusted to no other – he had feared much.  Now, it seemed, his fears were indeed justified.  The words lay stark and bold on the paper before him – words of desperation, hopelessness and defiant reassurance.

Amid the fears – Legolas was all that was left to him – there was an immense pride; a sense that if this could be done, his son would see it through; no matter what the cost.

Slowly and hesitantly, he began to reply.  ‘My beloved son,’.