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
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,’.