Dusk was falling over Mirkwood as Legolas made his way down the hall
towards his chambers. It had been several months since Mirkwood’s
reunification and the difficult work of beginning over had thus far
been going very well.
The prince paused when he saw light spilling into
the hallway from the partially open door to his father’s study.
Thranduil was obviously working late again.
Legolas crept to the door and peeked in through the
crack. His father was seated at the desk, working over a stack of
parchments that were spread around him.
Not wishing to disturb the older elf, Legolas
started to creep away again, but a voice from within the study stopped
him.
“Legolas? Is that you?”
“Yes, Ada,” Legolas pushed the door open somewhat
sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Thranduil smiled and laid aside his quill, gesturing
for the child to come closer. “You’re never an interruption
Legolas, please, come in.”
Legolas complied happily. All the chairs by
Thranduil’s desk were covered in requisition papers and missives
waiting either to be read or sent, but the Elvenking pushed the stack
of parchments on the edge of his desk further into the middle, patting
the desktop in an invitation for Legolas to sit down.
The young elf hopped nimbly up and sat on the edge
of his father’s desk, curling his folded legs under him and letting his
hands rest on his ankles.
“Your mother says that Cúrorth has decided to
sponsor you in the junior archery tournament next season. Would
you like me to come with you tomorrow when you meet with him?”
Thranduil asked.
Legolas beamed excitedly. “Yes father, I would
love that, but I thought you had a meeting with the council
tomorrow. I really don’t mind if you can’t, it’s not important.”
Thranduil nodded. “I do have a meeting, but if
we aren’t finished by then they will just have to wait and we can
reconvene the day after. Legolas... it is important,” Thranduil
captured his son’s eyes. “It’s important to me to be part of your
life and I have been too remiss about letting you know that.”
Thranduil reached up and squeezed his son’s
hand. When Legolas squeezed back his fingers caught on the ring
his father was wearing. The edsiria glimmered faintly in the
candlelight.
Thranduil caught his son looking at it and Legolas
quickly looked away as soon as he realized he had been, withdrawing his
hand. The boy’s inner hurts were healing, but the memories would
take far longer to fade.
“I’ve never told you the story behind this ring,
have I Legolas?” Thranduil asked softly, considering the green and
silver band on his finger. “It was given to my father by Maenas,
a Sinda craftsman who was friend to Celebrimbor. It helps to
channel and focus the power of the wearer, giving them greater control
over their own innate strengths. It is a very special heirloom of
our house and a secret not to be made known to the outside world.”
Legolas was studying his hands in his lap. “I
didn’t know. Father, I’m sorry about...”
Thranduil touched the boy’s lips gently, bidding him
stop. “No Legolas, no more apologies. They aren’t
necessary. I tell you this because someday it may pass to
you. If and when that happens, I want you to be ready for what
guiding a people and guarding a realm entails. There’s so much I
haven’t shared with you that I should; so much I want you to be a part
of now... if you want to be. Do you want to help shoulder the
responsibility of running this kingdom with me?”
Legolas nodded quickly, his smile brightening once
more. “Yes, Ada, I would.”
Thranduil smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Well then, you can start right now. How about helping me sort
through this...” the Elvenking glanced around at the stacks of papers
strewn about the room and gestured helplessly. “This mess?”
“All right, where do I start?” Legolas agreed
eagerly. Thranduil never shared his personal responsibilities
with anyone and the prince felt incredibly honored that he wanted to do
so with him.
Thranduil assessed the carefully controlled chaos
with a rueful grin. “I’ll take the right flank,” he gestured to
the piles overflowing from the desk to the chairs on one side of the
room. “And you take the left flank,” he gestured to the side
closest to Legolas. “And we’ll catch them between us and meet in
the middle.” The Elvenking laughed. “They almost all need
answers. Most are fairly simple and you’ll know how to deal with
them, if you have any questions, just ask. I think you’ll find
another quill... under here... somewhere,” Thranduil chuckled as he
rifled through papers until he discovered the extra quills and
ink-dippers hidden beneath.
An hour later when Elvéwen looked in, she was
surprised to find them both there. “Legolas, it’s past your
bedtime,” she chided with a soft smile.
“I’m not tired Nana, I’m helping Ada,” Legolas said
proudly, lifting the quill in his ink-smudged fingers as proof.
Thranduil smiled conspiratorially at his son over
the desk they were sharing. “Ah, but we’re working my love.
I’ll see Legolas gets to bed at a decent time.”
Elvéwen smiled and shook her head.
“Your idea of decent could be questioned of late dearest, but very
well, I will see you in the morning.” She was glad to see them
together like this.
The next morning, Elvéwen realized that she
had slept alone and Thranduil had never been to bed. Pulling on
her dressing gown, the queen made her way quietly out of the
bedroom. Just as she suspected, a faint light was still spilling
from beneath Thranduil’s study door.
Soft sounds of laughter could be heard issuing from
within and her eyebrows went up. Many mornings she had awoken to
find Thranduil still busy at work from the night before, but there was
never anything mirthful to the situation.
Cracking the door slightly she peered inside.
The papers and missives had all been dealt with and were stacked neatly
in the corner of the room. The desk had been cleared and a chair
was pushed up against it at an angle. Much to the Queen’s
amusement, she found Thranduil and Legolas racing flat, circular goblet
coasters down natural ramps made by the chair arms and attempting to
knock over a tall tower of carefully folded and balanced scrap
parchment.
Elvéwen could not help laughing, which caused
both Thranduil and Legolas to look up at once; sharing the same amused,
but slightly guilty look.
“Morning already, dear?” Thranduil remarked with an
innocent smile. He and Legolas had been having more fun than he
had had in ages and the Elvenking had actually lost track of time.
“Good morning Nana!” Legolas bounced over to give
his mother a hug. Despite having been up all night, his eyes were
glowing and dancing in a way that warmed Elvéwen’s heart.
“I’ve beaten Ada five times now.”
“Four and a half,” Thranduil protested
good-naturally. “We haven’t finished this one yet! Good
morning, meleth-nín,” he kissed his wife on the cheek.
“Good morning, my loves,” Elvéwen could not
contain her amused smile. “Well, since you are obviously still
very busy with your important affairs of state, I shall tell them you
won’t be wanting breakfast, although I did hear that they were making
fresh fruit over aflas...”
“Aflas!” Legolas cheered happily. “Let’s go
have breakfast Ada!”
Thranduil laughed. “I think that would be
good. That way I can leave my ignominious defeat at four and a
half. But I will be wanting a rematch,” he warned with a smile as
the three of them headed down the hall together.
Legolas flashed his father a brilliant grin.
“Any time, Ada.”
There was much work ahead for all of them, but
together they would find a way to make it through.
The process of restoring everything that had been torn apart was long
and difficult, but Mirkwood did rebuild and reunify completely,
becoming a stronger and more affluent realm than ever before.
Eventually Legolas would get his wish, although in a
way quite unforeseen, and many of the lost exiles of Mirkwood who had
shared Doriflen’s banishment were brought home and reunited with their
former kin. Such was the case with Garilien and Cirlith who were
reunited after Doriflen’s death and managed to rebuild what had been
lost; letting two broken hearts become whole again in newfound joy.
Over the years Thranduil never did beat Legolas’
record at coaster-racing and they stopped counting sometime after
five-hundred and thirty-eight, although the Elvenking still swore it
was five-hundred, thirty-seven and a half.