The Sinister Chapters of The Woodland Realm

by AnUncannyRabbit

Summary:

Legolas should not be jealous of that Lothlorien singer, but he did.

It's unfair, as he tried so hard...All his life, he had one goal: to reclaim his father's affection that he had lost when Nana passed away, and he couldn't get it. Yet this young and 'innocent' Lothlorien bard snatched it effortlessly with one ballad, and it was not even a good one!

Legolas wanted his ada all to himself, and he knew he could never get it, therefore he tried to find the Elven King's shadows in every lover, until Thranduil finally had enough and put the defiant prince in his place.

Notes:

Here is the beautiful fanart by ssssand: https://twitter.com/ssssand4/status/1419242608853872645?s=21, based on a scene from chapter 7 and chapter 8.

Chapter 1

Legolas always wondered what amount of pain and suffering would be able to turn one of them, the firstborn, an elf, into something so twisted, savage, and so utterly lacking of anything good.

An Orc.

His patrol party had been tracking the pack of Orc scouts for days. They were sneaking around their boarder, carving suspicious sigils onto those gigantic trees. They killed countless animals whose mutilated bodies were left rotting on the ground, and their blood darkened the soil.

Legolas had been furious. Those Valar forsaken creatures dared to step their hideous feet onto the sacred land of Greenwood, not to mention harming his innocent subjects and defiling his beloved forest. He would make them paid.

Legolas' cold anger had been thick and threatening, like the looming thunder echoing afar. Not even Captain Tauriel dared to say much lest to provoke any outburst. After all, the Prince was so much like their King. Both were extremely intimidating when they were angry.

They killed all but one of the Orcs.  He was the strongest one, a pale Goblin with shoulder twice as wide as Legolas' torso.  His fight was fierce and brutal, managed to kill one of the elf soldiers and wounded several. Eventually, Legolas' arrows pierced through the creature's right thigh and left shin, rendered him incapacitated. The Prince decided to take him back to the Palace for his father to interrogate the meanings of those mysterious sigils that were appearing everywhere in their forest.

Striding across the long and tortuous wooden bridge connecting to the Audience Terrace, Legolas watched his father, King Thranduil, ascending the high throne. A familiar thread of dread boiled up in his chest.

Thranduil's parenting style was known to be exactly opposite to Lord Elrond's. To say the least, the Elven King was definitely not a warm and benign father. Legolas could not remember when was the last time his father had any kind of physical contact with him, nor did he recall any praise for his hard work on the battlefield or diplomatic conduct through the past couple of centuries.

Yet Legolas still craves for the things he could not get. And all he could do was to try harder. To be the perfect son that would make his Ada proud one day, if he was lucky.

Sometimes, he tried a bit too hard. He would practice archery for countless hours non-stop until his fingers bled and ran out of bowstrings. He would practice his double sword skill and win every match ever held in the elven kingdom. He would throw himself to the heart of the most perilous battlefield regardless of his own safety just to claim the head of the enemy's lead. He would be the dominant, sturdy and arrogant ambassador of his father while attending all kinds of joint committees with other Elven lords or Human Kings.

They were still not enough to exchange the Elvenking's affection apparently.

Legolas had been restless and agitated even more than usual recently since his father started to have an 'affair' with a bard from Lothlorien, a male Silvan Elf with a pretty face and voice of a nightingale. The bard, whose name was Faendir, was about the same age as Legolas. And watching his father showing subtle but still rare caring and tenderness that Legolas had long lost toward someone at his own age, somehow broke the Prince's heart a little bit.

Perhaps that was also the reason Legolas single-handedly killed the majority of those orcs with slightly excessive ire.

Legolas was standing in front of the throne, head bowed low, reporting about their captive and his own suspicion about the sigils to the mighty King.

Thranduil was sitting high on the throne with an idle gesture, while still looming and powerful like a respiting panther. His beautiful face was stone cold as usual, dark blue eyes conceiving deep meanings.

His gaze made Legolas' heart tremble, and its not just from fear.

"Bring forth the Orc," Thranduil ordered.

The Orc was in pain, yet still full of malic and deviance. He was cursing in Orkish, small beady eyes glittered with hatred and disdain.

"Who gave you orders? "The King inquired.

The Orc murmured another gush of insulting in Orkish.

Legolas learnt a bit of Orkish during his long years of patrolling around the woods, and from the snippets that he got from the Orc's gibberish, he already wanted to stab his arrow inside that filthy mouth.

No one was allowed to insult his father, so he backhanded the Orc hard, causing his nose to bleed. The Orc growled with rage, tried to attack the Elven Prince.

Taurial immediately grabbed the Orc by his sparse and greasy hair, forcing him to keep kneeling.

"Answer me, Orc." Thranduil commanded., "or we will behead you right now."

The Orc finally spoke in Common Speech, "Azog the Defiler."

"And why did he want you to carve those sigils? What was the meaning of them?"

The Orc grunted, "I don't know. I was just following orders."

"You are lying! I have seen you chanting something while you were carving those sigils! Who gave these to you? A wizard?" Legolas rebuked.

"No, not a wizard, but your sweet mother!" The Orc insulted in Orkish again, following by a burst of arrogance laughter. Legolas wanted to cut done one of his useless limbs to teach him a lesson of respect, but Thranduil stopped him.

"Legolas, enough. "Thranduil reprimanded coldly, "If you keep hitting him every time he curses, the interrogation will last until next moon without producing any useful information."

Legolas bowed his head and backed off.

Thranduil focused his ice-blue eyes on the uncooperative Orc again, and his lips curled in a mysterious sneer.

"What is your name, Orc."

"Uzrogh."

"You see, 'Uzroth,'  "Thranduil emphasized on the name sarcastically, "I never met you, but I did know Azog the Defiler when he was but a pawn of Mordor, and you resemble him perfectly. "

The Orc growled again, this time in a manner of a bluff.

"Your true name is Bolg, Azog's only son." The King concluded with triumphant, "and if you are not willing to confess the meaning of those sigils, your father will."

"you elf cunt think you are so smart, aren't you? My father will come for me! And he will slaughter you and your pretty little Prince like pigs before he fucks both of your's elven ass bloody!" Bolg barked again in Mordor's foul language, while he was dragged to the dungeon by guards.

Tauriel was dismissed soon, and it was only Legolas left on the platform. He raised his head to look at his father's apathetic visage, questioned carefully, " Azog won't even care about him. They are Orcs, they don't have affection even to their offspring."

Thranduil raised up from the throne, descending the stairs slowly toward him, "your judgement is clouded by presumption, ion-nin. Azog had claimed Moria, and if he wants to declare himself as a king, he will need an heir. Bolg is his only son, he wouldn't give him up so easily as it is rather hard for Orcs to breed offspring through the...natrual way."

Legolas grimaced, hardly had given any consideration to Orcs' reproduction and anatomy, and the very idea of those monstrous creatures having sex made him cringe.

Thranduil recognized his son's uneasiness and chuckled, "speaking of 'breeding,' it occurs to me that you are also of age now. Many lords have been trying to convey their interest in having you marry their daughters...or sons in some cases."

"Ada! I would rather not talk about my marriage after a topic involving Orc breeding!"

"Sooner or later." Thranduil curled his lips in amusement, but it only lasted a second. The everlasting coldness returned his eyes, "I want you to deploy an army near our Southern west border. If Azog comes for his son, we have to be prepared. "

"Yes, Adar."

Thranduil turned around, preparing to leave, but then recalled another matter, "oh, and the Lothlorien diplomats are departing tomorrow. We will honour them a banquet tonight. Be sure to attend this time, no excuses."

Legolas' heart leaped in exhilaration, yet he asked in a masked apathetic voice," is Faendir also leaving then?"

Thranduil answers in a casual tone as he walking away, "no, he will stay for a while longer."

At that, Legolas' short-lived exhilaration turned into a bitter acid taste in his mouth and a disappointing lump in his chest.

>>>>>>>>>>

Legolas took a bath before the banquet started to wash away dirt and blood from the previous battle, trying to make himself presentable as a Prince.

Servants had prepared an emerald tunic with delicate golden embroidery, and a pair of light brown breeches. A golden circlet decorated with Emerald gem that matches his clothing was placed on the top.

Legolas was used to warrior's lifestyle as he went out with the patrol parties and stayed in the woods from time to time. He preferred to dress and groom himself instead of letting servants help him like most of the other lords or nobles did. Yet he distasted delicate clothing like this, as they usually had more layers and buttons that were hard to figure out where goes to where.

He slowly put on the attire, braiding his silken golden hair with skilled fingers. He was a bit distracted, as it bothered him to attend a banquet where he had no choice but to witness his Ada subtle flirting with the lowly bard with his wicked smirk and...mesmerizing eyes and…dashing eyebrows and...lustful lips...

No, what was he thinking!

He did not know since when did he start to notice his father's unearthly beauty. The almost white golden hair soft and lustre, his spotless skin glows like the moon in the darkest shadow, and his tall and well-defined body full of power and mystery.

He should not be jealous of that bard, but he did.

It's unfair, as he tried so hard...All his life, he had one goal: to reclaim his father's affection that he had lost when Nana passed away, and he couldn't get it. Yet this young and 'innocent' Lothlorien bard snatched it effortlessly with one ballad, and it was not even a good one!

Ok maybe it was a good one, but it was not that special!

Legolas threw the comb on the table and grumped in frustration, he rubbed his face, calming himself down, and looked up into the mirror.

He was good looking enough, right?

At least that was what people appraised him...Some of the bards even wrote poems and songs about how "beautiful" he was, how he was the “pellucid green-leaf flourishing in the gloomy winter," the “blessed treasure of Woodland Realm."

Although it was possible that they only praise him disingenuously to gain his favour and only loved him for his title, they couldn't all be lying, could they?

And he was pretty sure he was way more good looking than Faendir.

It didn't matter...because he shouldn't want what Faendir had stolen...no, not stolen, because there was nothing to steal in the first place.

Legolas sighed, gathered himself, and left room for the banquet.

Notes:

English is not my native language so I am a bit nervous about posting this, but I figured if I never start writing in it I could never improve, so here I come challenging myself with a dark fantasy. Please be gentle with me :)

Chapter 2

　　With the lurking shadow spreading from the south, the once vast, bright and tranquil Woodland Realm had diminished the joyfulness that used to vibrate at every grass, every branch, and every piece of soft petals. Squirmy worms, poisonous insects and obscure predators were infesting almost one-third of the eleven kingdoms, driving elves to move further to the north, reluctantly leaving their home and gardens behind.

It was a time of loss and sorrow, yet a banquet could always bring back light-hearted old times. Barrels after barrels of exquisite wine were brought out from the cellar, filling up every flagon and goblet. Comely eleven maidens were singing and dancing, nimble fingers strummed the strings elegantly. Among all the talented musicians, one of them surpassed them all. He was fair and slim, with long raven hair and light gray eyes. He was wearing a silver-gray robe, playing his lute with such easiness and talent as if it was part of his soul.

He was singing a paean of Varda, voice gentle and ethereal as if Ainurs blessed his very vocal cord. He shined like the Lumbar star, attracting every pair of eyes in the Hall, including the King‘s eyes.

Legolas gulped down the seventh goblet of wine, while the King was giving public praise to Faendir’s voice. He made an attempt to recall when was the last time ada gave him any compliment on anything, but failed.

This was too pathetic. He was better than this.

Feeling childish and stupid, Legolas did not notice another pair of eyes were lingering on him.

“It is a blessing to meet you again before my departure, Prince Legolas.”

Legolas turned his head, and was met with a pair of dark blue eyes. The Silvan Elf was tall, shoulder almost as broad as the King, light golden hair that was rarely seen in Silvan Elves shining dreamily in the starlight. It was Haldir, the March Warden of Lothlorien.

Legolas met him once when the Lorien diplomats arrived two months ago, yet never again for the Prince departed with a patrol troop the very next day. And when he came back, he was stricken by the fact that Thranduil took an interest of the Lorien bard, therefore avoided all occasions where there were Lorien elves present.

Legolas stood up from his seat, raised his newly filled goblet and gave a courtesy smile. Well, as courtesy as possible given his slightly intoxicating state.

“My apology for my poor hosting skill, Haldir of Lothlorien. I was caught up in chores and duties.”

“Well, you still have a chance to make it up to me.” Haldir chuckled, amusement glittering in his eyes.

Legolas raised his eyebrows. He detected a note of flirtiness but wasn‘t sure if it was in his head.

“What do you have in mind?”

A new song was played, light and jolly. The march warden extended a hand and asked, “Start with a dance?”

There was a gush of excited murmuring spreading around. Legolas directed his sight to the source of the mild turbulence and saw his father descending from the high table, walking toward the smiling Faendir, who was extending a hand toward the King, asking for a dance.

Legolas had never seen his father accept any dance invitation before.

Bitter bile rose behind his throat, yet he smiled sweetly at Haldir and took his hand.

It was a rare scene, for both the King and the Prince were not keen on dancing. Yet they were both excellent dancers, their movement supple and elegant. Many dancing couples gave way to the monarchies and their partners.

The March Warden was a skillful dancer himself. He took the role of lead naturally, without even consulting the Prince. Legolas was not used to the subtle display of dominance, for most of his past dancing partners worried that such arrogation would anger him, and thus always waited for his lead.

Yet Legolas liked been held by his waist and guided by strong, steady arms. Their steps light and agile, moved perfectly in harmony. Their body pressed close, and the Prince could smell the fragrance of the Elanor flower from the golden Lothlorien. Legolas finally gave out a trickle of laughter that night, his bright blue eyes devoided of pensiveness, and was filled with joyfulness instead.

“So you do know how to laugh.” Haldir teased.

Legolas rolled his eyes, “and you are particularly bold, March Warden.”

Haldir gave him another cocky smirk, “I simply wondered how ravishing the smile of the most beautiful elf in this realm would be, and I always seek the answer to my curiosity. ”

Legolas chuckled, but didn’t take it seriously, “such flattering words, do you usually get what you want with them?”

“Oh yes, all the time.” Haldir practically purred in a low sexy voice, sending a shiver down to the Prince‘s back.

When they spun again, Legolas could see his ada over Haldir’s shoulder. And to his surprise, the King was also staring at him over Faendir‘s shoulder.

Two rays of soul-piercing gaze fell upon Legolas, carrying a note of annoyance. But annoying of what? Of Legolas having fun with another elf rather than brooding alone?

Yet the King too held another young elf in his broad chest without giving one single fuck of how his son would think of it.

Legolas was immensely pissed.

“Let’s get out of here,” Legolas whispered into Haldir‘s pointy ear.

“So soon?” The March Warden raised his eyebrows and widened his smile.

“Well, you can stay if you want.” Legolas challenged, and walking toward the gate swiftly. He was pleased to hear the step following him.

They walked a while and entered the garden deep inside the gigantic caves. Moonlight rays reflected several times by mirrors are like silver streams trickling over the magical trees, herbs and flowers.

Legolas came here often, for it gave him peace and comfort during times of confusion and frustration. His mother used to plant Laurinquë trees here, and now those trees had grown tall and luxuriant, golden flowers covering long strips scattering down to the ground like Yavanna’s hair.

She would have loved to see how beautiful they had become.

“What‘s troubling your mind, my fair Prince?”

Haldir’s voice grounded him back to reality. Legolas was slightly embarrassed, “nothing. I was just remembering things.”

Haldir approached him slowly, almost like a leopard circling his prey. The ambience in the air shifted obscurely, something feverish and dark was brewing, setting the cold moonlight on fire.

Legolas backed up into the curtain of golden flowers, leaned on the Laurinquë with a seducing smirk. In the moonlight, the March Warden‘s hair was almost white, and his shape was strong and tall, surprisingly resemble the profile of King Thranduil.

Legolas felt a tremble exuberance flustering in his stomach as Haldir trapped him between the elder elf’s body and the tree behind him, demanding stare holding the Prince in place.

“I want to make you forget anything you just remembered if you would allow me.”Haldir whispered into his ear.

Legolas returned his gleaming gaze and returned a deviant smile, “I would love to see you try.”

Not needing further instruction, Haldir held Legolas‘ neck and kissed him hungrily on the lips. The kiss was hard and rough, involving biting teeth and loud moans, almost like a fight rather than lovemaking. Burning passion dancing on their entangled tongues like soul-consuming fire, and Legolas didn’t know the very first step of intimacy could hold so much power.

Haldir released his red and moist lips to explore his jaw and long neck. His swift hand unbuckled the Prince‘s belt and then burrowed into the fine emerald tunic like a sinuous snake.

Legolas had sexual experiences with several partners, but they were all short-lived. To Legolas, bringing lovers to bed was more like a duty, as though all the encounters, he always felt something amiss. Something that could have turned a plain and boring lovemaking ritual into a hot and consuming miracle.

And now, he could feel that something he had been seeking without knowing was pouring down.

It was the feeling of submission, a sense of losing control, and an urge to be dominated and possessed that he longed for so centries, and yet could never get because of his royal status.

He had dreamt of similar situations many times. A tall and strong elf, with white golden hair and ice-blue eyes, engulfing him in his long arms and tearing off his tunic and pants, taking him roughly from behind without mercy.

Except, that elf in his dream was none other than his own father.

“Ah...”A sweet moaning escaped the Prince’s wet lips, deep and husky. Haldir‘s hand found his half hardened member and was stroking it with skillful fingers. His other hand was pinching his right nipple,  playing it until it was red and swollen.

“You are so beautiful like this, getting undone by my hand.” Haldir licks Legolas’ earlobe, voice as sweet as honey.

“And you are no doubtfully, ‘very patient.’” Legolas challenged again, though a bit out of breath.

The next moment the Prince yelped as a sneaky, but slander finger reached his back and breached his hole without any warning.

Haldir‘s smile was dark and evil, “have to satisfy a very impatient Prince.”

Legolas’ expression was a mixture of pain and pleasure. He held the March Warden‘s shoulder tight, like a drowning person holding a floating log. The finger opens him slowly but steadily, turning and probing the hot inside, and when Legolas’ voice turning sweeter and on edge, the second finger was added in.

Legolas‘ legs were weak, if not for the arm holding him in place, he would have melted on the ground. He liked being fingered and entered by something more prominent in size than mere fingers, and yet he could rarely make the demand, as he was supposed to be dominant, fierce and imposing, like his father, even in bed.

“I want more...give me more!” Legolas squirmed in Haldir’s arms, feeling restless and unsatisfied.

Haldir could hardly hold back any longer. He turned the Prince around roughly, pinned him securely on the tree trunk, and then pushed the breeches down. Two peaches like cheeks were revealed, perfect and wanting. Haldir opened his own breeches, the angry and pulsing member coated with pre-cum, standing tall and proud.

“Tell me what you want, my Prince.”Haldir whispered again, “Beg me for it.”

“Wha...what?!”

“Beg me for it.” The taller elf repeated slowly, a trace of mischief hanging in his voice.

Legolas cursed in frustration,”Ci orch ‘waur! ” (meaning: you dirty orc! the phrase was derived from the Elvish Phrase Book https://realelvish.net/)

“Such a foul tongue, not very princely don‘t you think?”

Legolas grunted annoyingly, yet he had no other choice.

“Please...”

“Please what, your highness?”

“Please...take me!” Legolas almost yelled in anger, but then realized it could attract unwanted attention.

“With pleasure!” Haldir slammed into the Prince’s ripe and feverish body, and the squishy warmth was overwhelming, made him sigh in pure satisfaction.

Legolas yelped again, feeling full and stretched. His nails dug into the tree bark, the whole body was shaking in the toxic, painful pleasure like autumn leaves.

“Are you ok?” Haldir asked.

“Yeah, yeah I‘m ok, now move!”

“So demanding!”

Again and again, the March Warden thrust into the deepest place of Legolas’ body, changing his angle from time to time, repeatedly rubbed against the sweet spot. Legolas felt like a shaking and crumbling boat tossing on a roaring and stormy sea of lust. The mindblowing pleasure was too much to handle, yet he did not want to stop.

“Valar...You are perfect.“ Haldir couldn't help but lost in wonder. Legolas’s every reaction toward him was heavenly sweet and beautiful. His body was sensitive and his voice was melodious and inviting, and it was such a prominent contrast to the Prince‘s usual cold and distant demeanour.

A hidden treasure of the Mirkwood…

Chapter 3

　　The climax was sensational to the extent of overwhelming, and it engulfed the Prince and the Lorien Elf simultaneously. At that very moment, Legolas lost control of his body and went into spasm. Every nerve in his body fired up like fireworks. His Fëa was stretched to the edge of the universe by the most primordial force. His channel contracted in waves and sent Haldir right to the explosion point that he was holding off.

They held each other, panting heavily, could not return from the euphoria just yet. It was outright the best sex Legolas ever had. It was so good that he somehow felt guilty about it, as it was usually misfortune following the zenith of joy.

Haldir slowly let go of Legolas's sweaty body, cherishing him with tenderness. Legolas turned around, losing himself in the dark blue sea singing in the other Elf's eyes.

"This is the best hospitality I have ever gotten." Haldir joked.

Legolas answered playfully, "The pleasure is mine."

"Oh how I wish it is not my last night in Woodland Realm, such cruelty, for I have taken a glimpse of a hidden treasure and yet could not admire him any longer."

Legolas laughed at the comparison, "hidden treasure? Too corny."

"But I have only spoken of my heart. "Haldir stroked Legolas' cheek gently, outlining his lips with his thumb, "I wish to see you again."

Legolas lowered his sight, quietly answered, "We both have our duties. But...I do want to see you again, if fate would ever join our paths in the future."

Haldir raised his chin and left another kiss on his lips, "I would love to show you the golden forest of Mallorn, we could roam under the ever floating starlights, to hear the euphonious chant of the fair priestess. "

Legolas curled his mouth, smiling softly, "yes, I would love that."

"So, is it a promise?"

"Only if you don't mind of the indefinite time limit."

Haldir chuckled fondly, "we are elves. Time is never a problem for us."

**********

The grand hallways of the Elvenking's palace were falling into quiescent sleep, while the epilogue of the banquet was still echoing, most guests had retired. Some had fallen asleep in comfortable beds, others passed out on their way and were carried into guest rooms by dutiful guards.

Legolas' steps are swift and light, trying not to disturb the peaceful quietness. He had parted with Haldir, and was on his way back to his room.

He halted his step while noticing there were light spilling out of the King's Chancery Chamber. Driven by curiosity, Legolas opened the vine engraved door and stepped inside.

Thranduil was sitting behind the desk, reading through letters. Hearing the disturbance, he raised his eyes and found Legolas closing the door.

"I didn't expect to see you here, ada." The Prince approached with ease. It was rare for him to appear relaxing and light-hearted around the King. May it be the effect of the wine and the activity he had with the March Warden.

Thranduil returned his gaze to the letter, "where do you expect me to be then?"

"I don't know, Faendir's bed?"

The King raised his luxurious eyebrow, a glint of amusement reflect in his eyes, "you don't like Faendir, do you?"

Legolas considered a little while, and replied honestly, "no, I don't."

"Why? I had lovers before, and you never had a problem."

"He was my age."

"So? You passed the age of majority two centuries ago. So did he. "

"That's not what I mean." Legolas was standing near his desk, looking a bit frustrated.

Thranduil raised his head and examed his only son again. Legolas looked...ravished. His cheeks flushed with scarlet, and his golden hair slightly messed. His attire seemed tidy at first sight, but there were traces of disarray in detail if looking closely.

Thranduil sniffed the air around his son, and he recognized a residue smell of a different forest realm.

The King did not like it.

"I see, you have enjoyed foreign companies yourself."Thranduil's voice was calm, yet lingered an ominous foreboding. Legolas swallowed, unsure if the King was not happy with his little adventure tonight.

But why would the King care? His Majesty had his singing bird ready to play with at any time, and Legolas only had this one night of fun. What gave him the right to whine about it?

Not that the King actually whines...

Legolas challenged with a shrug, "like father, like son."

"You could have done better than him."

"Better than him? Ada, Haldir is the most handsome Elf I have been with for the past century! Who else 'better' could I have 'done'?"

"A status of superiority does not singularly determine by appearance, though it does contribute to a large portion of the assessment. "

The authority in the King's voice left no room for argument. Legolas decided to drop it, as he never disagreed with his father. He mumbled, "He is going back to Lothlorien tomorrow anyway. I won't be able to see him for a long time."

That somehow soothed the King's annoyance. Thranduil stared at his only son, amazed by how alike he was to the Woodland Realm's late Queen. The Prince inherited her unmatched beauty and was utterly breathtaking when he appeared at the banquet in those fine emerald robes.

He could have captured any Elf's heart in mere seconds if he desired, and yet Legolas was always alone. He was busying with his princely duties day and night, wearing those practical oriented armours and tunics and always braided his golden hair into warrior style, hiding his radiance in the humble attire.

Thranduil wondered if his son truly grasped the extend of his own beauty at all.

Not that he didn't like it...

"Do you like him?"The King asked.

"Yeah..."Legolas hesitated for a brief moment, then answered more affirmatively, "yes, I like him."

"It is a pity." The King seemed lost interest in the topic and directed his attention back to the paperwork, "he is but a low born Silvan Elf and does not deserve your attention. I forbid you to see him again."

"What?!"

"Do not make me repeat my decision." Thranduil dismissively waved his hand, ending the conversation, "now go back to your room and sleep. It is late."

"Ada, I am not an Elfling anymore. You cannot forbid me to see someone like that!"Legolas was outrageous. What game was his Adar playing?!

"I can, for I am both your Father and your King." Thranduil raised his eyelids, the terrifying blue sights piercing through the Prince's soul, nailing his verdict, "Would you dare to disobey me?"

Legolas was furious, yet he didn't bicker. He knew it would be futile to try to change his father's mind, for the King was the most stubborn, tyrannical and aloof Elf he'd ever seen. He merely stormed out of the room, closing the door with too much force.

Thranduil chuckled to himself. He would never have admitted that there was a secret part of him enjoyed his son's frustration, especially when he was the cause.

Chapter 4

At dawn, when the golden sun ray kissed the unfurling leaves at the tops of the branches, Lothlorien elves were gearing up for departing. Many of them drank too much last night and were still having a mild hangover, yet a little discomfort did not affect their elegance and diplomacy.

Thranduil descending from the grand hall to bid them farewell. Legolas followed him, wearing a rather formal silver robe. Haldir exchanged official but friendly words with Thranduil while having a wired feeling that the King was sizing him up in an intimidating way. Could it be his imagination after last night's adventure with the Prince? Did Legolas tell his ada? No one will discuss their own...private life with their parent, right?

After Thranduil stepped aside, Legolas also bided his farewell according to diplomatic etiquette. While he was doing so, Haldir suddenly held his right hand and left a gentle kiss on it. Legolas startled a bit, eyes darted to his father's direction and caught the coldness forming under the King's piercing eyes.

"I will be waiting for you to fulfill your promise in Lothlorien, my dear Prince." Haldir smirked with honey-like words before mounting the horse, leading his people galloped away along the torturous pathway through the ancient trees.

Legolas watched the mercury-like hair disappeared into the shades of the woods. An ominous sense of dismay filled his heart.

He was alone again, as usual.

"What was the promise?" The King's voice interrupted his self-pity.

Legolas tried to answer as indifferent as possible, "nothing important, it won't happen anytime soon."

"What, was ,the promise?" The King repeated his question in a somewhat threatening way, which means he was pissed.

Legolas would rather not discuss this in front of all the nobles and guards, yet Thranduil seemed not letting the topic drop.

"I just promise to visit him in Lothlorien sometimes in the future, nothing more." Legolas answered in an annoying tune, which irritated Thranduil even more than he already was.

"Hm, did you." The King remarked with an ambiguously cynical tune, turned and left.

For the rest of the day Legolas was busying deploying troops to the woods' border, giving orders to captains and warriors. By dinner time he felt his throat was on fire. As he was gulping down water, a servant came on behalf of the King, summoned the Prince to dine with him.

Legolas was surprised as Thranduil rarely insist on dining with his son like some other Elven lord (Elrond in particular) did. Most of the time Legolas would just finish his dinner with other warriors or in his own chamber.

He changed into a more "presentable" robe (his father's standard) swiftly and rashed to the dining hall since he was already late, and Thranduil hates waiting for people. As he stepping inside the room, his heart sank.

Thranduil was sitting at the end of the long table, listening to Galion-the dutiful and loyal butler- giving a swift account of several palace refurbishing progress. Beside him sits Legolas's enemy number one, Feandir the bard, who was eating a piece of fresh mulberry in an unnecessarily delicate way.

What is this, a form of retaliation or show off from his 'beloved' Adar?! Legolas cursed bitterly in mind, considering turning back and leave.

"Ah, Legolas, come and join me."

Legolas cursed again in his mind, dragged himself from the doorway, sat on the other side of the King, as the cutlery arrangement indicated.

Feandir, who was sitting right across the table, bowed his head to him timidly, "your highness."

Legolas nodded coldly, focusing on the wine that a servent was pouring for him.

Thranduil signed some paper and dismissed Galion. The butler gave Legolas a warm and encouraging smile before leaving.

Growing up with a cold and distant father was not easy, and Galion somewhat filled in the blank when the princeling needed a father figure the most. The butler always knew Legolas craved Thranduil's attention, but oblivious just to what extent and in what way.

"How was your day?" Thranduil asks in a business-like tone.

"I have deployed troops to the border as you commanded. They will depart early tomorrow morning."

"Good."

Feandir smiled sweetly to Legolas, "I have heard so many tales about your bravery, your highness. I would love to have been able to see a heroic scene of you fighting those grotesque creatures, defending the glorious Woodland Realm. Maybe I could gain inspiration and compose a ballad in your honour. "

Legolas almost rolled his eyes, "you will shit yourself when you actually see the 'heroic scene.'"

Thranduil glared at him warningly and gently touched Feandir's hand. "I'm sure it would have been great work."

Feandir kept smiling. Yet Legolas could almost see a glint of deviance and provocation in the bard's eyes when his sight swept to the Prince's direction.

Was that bastard challenging him?!

Legolas's knuckles were turning white, and the poor silver cutlery was almost bent.

The food was delicious, yet Legolas couldn't really taste them. While maintaining royal manners, he ate as fast as possible, tried to escape from this torture of seeing the bard held a strawberry at his fingertips, practically feeding it to his father. Worse, the King actually took it with his mouth. The strawberry was crushed in his teeth, blood-like juice stained his sensuous lips.

The lips that Legolas wanted to lick clean with his own tongue so bad...

Legolas stood up abruptly, creating a harsh and sudden noise, "I'm finished. Allow me to retire early as it has been a long day." He turned to the door without even waiting for a response.

The King's majestic voice echoed in the hall with a hint of danger, "did I give you leave?"

Legolas's step froze. He turned around, head bowed low while answering in a subtlely cynical voice, "is there anything else you wish to command me, my King?"

Thranduil stood up and walking toward him slowly. His higher stature and broader build blocked candle lights, creating a heavy shadow pressing down on the nervous Prince.

Thranduil held Legolas's chin in his hand, a little too tight, forcing the Prince to raise his head and meet the King's piercing gaze.

Their face was so close that Legolas could feel his father's wine tinted hot breath fell on his skin.

"You DO NOT leave without my permission, is it understood?"

Legolas swallowed, heart beating too fast. Thranduil rarely touched him in the past centuries, and this little rough touch was enough to stir his forbidden desire.

Were all of these about that promise he gave to Haldir, about going to Lothlorien?

Usually, he would have just said "yes my King" like a good obedient son. But today, he wanted more. He wanted to cause some trouble.

"Or what?" The Prince challenged defiantly.

Thranduil was almost surprised, and the rebelling attitude certainly fueled something blazing in the King's gaze. He moved his thumb, gently rubbed across Legolas's lower lips. If he pressed a bit harder, the tip of his thumb could have dig into the Prince's soft lips, passing through the barrier of the teeth he knew Legolas wouldn't dare to bite down and touch the delicious warm tongue within.

But he restrained himself.

The King leaned in, noticing Legolas shivered a bit. His hot breath burned Legolas's earlobe, "do you want to be punished, ion-nin?"

"Maybe I do."Legolas whispered, "better than being forced to entertain your bard."

Thranduil felt a jolt of thrill ran through his body like electricity. The suggestion of punishing his brave, beautiful, jealousy and rebelling son evoked so many immediate imaginations. Those images in his head would have doomed him and Legolas eternally.

"You drank too much tonight."

"Not as much as you."

Legolas felt he saw something in Thranduil's expression, something dark and forbidden, full of the thick, sweet and bloody fragrance of an untouchable sin, echoing his own desire. Was it his delusion?

Then Feandir spoke, "my King, I'm sure his highness was only too tired. Please be merciful."

That broke the tightened string forming between father and son. Thranduil released Legolas's chin, turning back to his seat while waving his hand dismissively, "I will pardon your overstepping this time. Do not forget your place, now go."

Legolas's heartbeat had not slowed down. He left a venomous glare at the bard, hating him for breaking……whatever it was between him and his father, and then practically ran out of the room.

His thought was in chaos, so many emotions and confusion swirling like a maelstrom. His finger touched his own chin as if he could still feel his father's touch. His cheek and ear were burning as if the King's breath were still floating on them.

He wanted more, a lot more, and it was driving him crazy.

Chapter 5

Summary:

Legolas interrogated Bolg for more information, and had a quarrel with Thranduil.

The dungeon below the King's Hall was a place of many foreboding shadows. Hundreds of cells carved into the steep and rough stone cliffs like beehives, sinuous stairs connected each of them, forming a delicate spider web wrapping around.

Not many elves had seen this part of the kingdom, as the dungeon was desolate most of the time. Only a small fraction of guards patrol through the twisty stairs, narrow platforms and deep tunnels once every day.

But now, it has a loud resident.

Legolas heard the foul curses the minute he stepped into the shadows of the dungeon.

Unlike humans or any other species, Elves do not like to torture their captives, nor enjoy to see them suffer, even if the prisoner was a filthy Orc who killed many of their kins. The wood elves applied herbs to his arrow wounds, provided fresh food and water to the son of Azog, and tried to accommodate any of his reasonable needs. However, Bolg showed no gratitude at all.

"You soft stupid fairy arses! What do you think I am? A fucking cow?! Bring me more meat and blood! More real food! "Bolg turned over the plate of assorted berries and cheese with a big clang.

Legolas stood in front of the cell and answered in a cold tone, "you should be grateful that we don't starve you."

The giant Goblin raised his bald head. When he saw the Prince, the beady eyes fired up, "ah, it's you, the pretty little elf prince. Miss my big cock already?"

The guards reprimanded loudly to protect their Prince, but Elves can hardly win when it comes to cursing, especially when the other party was an Orc. Legolas raised his hand and dismissed the guards in Elvish. Before they left, he took a whip from one of the guards.

The pale Orc came near the stone fence, malice and lust blooming in his eyes; every muscle twitch of his disfigured face conveyed twisted excitement.

"Oh, I see, the little prince wants to play." He licked his chasm-like lips.

"Who gave you those sigils?" Legolas asked.

"Didn't I tell you? It's your sweet mo..." Bolg didn't get to finish the sentence as Legolas's whip fell on his face with meticulous accuracy and brutal force. He yelped, the burning sensation exploded, and he could taste his thick blood.

But the Orc did not retreat from the fence. He kept grinning at Legolas like a predator, dark blood stained his sharp teeth.

Legolas asked again, "Who gave you those sigils?"

"We can do this whole day, elfling. How about you come in and let me show you the proper way of using that whip? I promise I will be gentle."

"Is it the necromancer from Dol Guldur?"

Bolg fell in silence.

Legolas observed his expression carefully, "you are scared of him."

"You should be scared too." Bolg growled, "your forest will be his, and your kingdom will fall. No one can stand against him. Not even your gods."

Legolas had heard much rumour about the mysterious sorcerer who built the dark tower at the Woodland Realm's southwest edge. At first, no one gave much thought to it. There were many sorcerers in this world and the evil one had already fallen.

And then, the shadow started to spread.

The once luxuriant Eryn Galen were infested by something sinister inch by inch. The soil turned sour and slimy; trees were dying; monstrous creatures lurked in the poisonous miasma.

They were driven to the north gradually, forced into the other side of their homeland like a cornered prey. Some local humans even started to call their once grandeur forest the 'Mirkwood.'

Legolas had wanted to take a small troop with him to investigate the forbidden fortress, to find the possible source of all the corruption. But Thranduil reprimanded him for even thinking about risking his people's lives like this, accused him of being arrogant and careless.

Legolas dropped the matter temporarily after that quarrel with his father, but as the Prince of Woodland Realm, he had to do something.

"Have you ever met him?" Legolas asked.

"...Once."

"What does he look like?"

"Why do you want to know? Aren't you a bit too curious for an elf?"

Legolas commanded with authority, "I am the one asking questions, not you!"

Bolg examined the Elven Prince with irritating amusement. The obscene gaze made Legolas uncomfortable, but he maintained his apathetic visage.

"You are thinking of sneaking into the dark fortress of the south, aren't you? Probably without daddy's permission?"

"Shut up and answer the question!"

"How can I answer the question if I shut up?"

Talking to this creature was even more frustrated than Legolas had thought.

Bolg was clearly enjoying this "interrogation." He grinned at the Prince, undressing him with his sticky gaze, saliva dripping at the mouth corners, "You know what princeling, I can tell you what does he looks like and what he is capable of, and I can even draw you a map of Dol Guldur. As long as you come in and let me enjoy a little bit of your tight elven ass, how's that?"

Without any surprise, the whip fell on his bald head. The pain did not deter Orc's insulting language. He probably even liked it.

Legolas straightened his posture, and to the Orc's surprise, he smirked.

"You are so afraid of him that you'd rather provoke me and take the whip than talking about him." The Prince gibed, "you are a coward."

"What do you know about fear?! I bet your daddy protected you like a fucking sunflower. Have you ever left the forest to see the real world?! Do you know what it was like to wonder if your father will slit your throat in the next moment just because that necromancer said so?"

"I thought you are the sole heir of Azog."

Bolg sneered, "so what? There will be only one lord, and it isn't Azog. What's the point of having an heir. You probably should have just executed me. He won't come."

Not knowing if it was imaginative, but Legolas saw a trace of sadness in the beast's eyes. And to his surprise, he felt sympathy.

Would ada go to war for him if the fallen dark lord captured him? Would he come for him knowing it would be a lost cause?

The sad truth was, he was not sure.

"I will send a healer for your wound. "Legolas gestured his face, turned and left.

" I would not go to that place if I were you." The Goblin yelled at his back, " Once he sees you, you can never escape."

……………………………………………………

"There will be only one lord, and it isn't Azog. " The Orc's words troubled Legolas for the whole afternoon, distracted him from reading the infestation report.

Orcs do not get terrified easily. For Valars' sake, those creatures do not even scare of death.

One lord... Could it be...

Impossible, the Dark Lord was gone, obliterated in the Last Alliance. Legolas had not been born by then, but it was a fact written in the history books.

Yet the ring was still here, stashed in some unforeseeable corner on Arda, waiting patiently for its master to return.

Legolas could not get rid of the dreadful feeling. Something was not right with the sorcerer, and if it was really him, they had to warn everyone.

Legolas rushed to Thranduil's Study, didn't even wait for the guard to announce his arrival before entering. Thranduil was reading a letter, brow furrowed tightly, lips forming a thin line.

The King was not in a good mood. Something annoyed him in that letter.

Feandir was playing harp quietly at the side. He was startled by the Prince's sudden enter, quickly rose to bow.

"Didn't Galion teach you the basic manner?" Thranduil scolded without looking up.

"I need to talk to you in private."

The King sighed, gave Feandir a nod. After the bard left and the door was closed, Legolas stepped forward, " I interrogated Bolg this morning. It was the necromancer of Dol Guldur who gave them the sigil. Azog is his pawn now, and we have to do something!"

Thranduil laid down the letter, leaning on the oak chair and looking at his son idly, "and what do you suggest us to do?"

"We need to investigate the dark fortress."

"I thought I made it very clear during our last discussion of the matter. It is not going to happen."

"Why? What are you so afraid of?! Our forest is dying and if it was indeed him..."

"Indeed who?"

Legolas paused for a second, and then answered quietly, " what if the Dark Lord didn't die? He had been destroyed before and had come back multiple times. "

Thranduil laughed sarcastically, "did the Orc tell you this too?"

"He didn't say the name, but he mentioned there would be only one lord, and he will destroy everything. Those Sigils, they are dark magic. The necromancer was using them to corner us, to drain our spirit and resources, can't you see?!"

"Enough!" Thranduil's voice echoed in the room like rolling thunder, "the Dark Lord was destroyed, and it caused two-third of our people's lives along with my father's. So I command you to stop your delusional and disrespectful obsession!"

Shame and anger burned in Legolas's chest, and his eyes stung. His father never really spoke of the tragic Battle of Dagorlad, but Legolas knew his grandfather Oropher was killed savagely during the first onslaught, and orcs slaughtered their kins mercilessly. The soil was soaked with Elves' blood. The first children’s body piled like a mountain. There was no hope, no rescue.

He could not imagine how his father survived all of those nightmares, and he certainly meant no disrespect. It must be painful to imagine all of those sacrifices were in vain, but they should not be blind sighted by wishful thinking.

"I'm sorry for being blunt, but..."

"No 'but', and maybe the court is too leisure for you, giving you too much time with your thoughts. Perhaps you should go with the troops, occupying yourself with more useful tasks. Now get out of my sight."

The King's rigid words were sharp like a thousand needles, piercing through the Prince's heart relentlessly.

His father was chasing him away, again.

He had only been back for less than a month, and Thranduil had already sicked of his presence.

Perhaps he should have never come back. Perhaps he was better off alone.

Legolas quickly turned around to leave, not wanting to show his watering eyes and the leaking hurt expression.

Yet the King was not done, "And Legolas, if you dare to put any of my people’s life in unnecessary danger by getting near that fortress, Valar help me I will make you pay."

It was like when someone had stabbed a person multiple times, and one more stab would not cause any extra pain. It was just numbness. Legolas didn't reply, quickly closed the door behind himself.

As he was leaving, wiping his eyes angrily with the back of his hand, Feandir called him from behind.

"Your highness!"

Legolas cursed quietly, desperately tried to regain his posture in the shortest amount of time and turned around.

He knew his eyes were still redder than usual, but he couldn't do anything about them.

"What do you want?" He answered coldly, wanted to finish whatever conversation as soon as possible.

Feandir smiled fondly at him, made him wanted to punch his pretty face.

"The King cares about your safety very much. Please take care and be careful, don't act alone on any tasks. "

Legolas frowned, "you eavesdropped on our conversation?"

"It was hardly eavesdropping if the sounds came to me. I was just standing outside." Feandir bowed his head tamely, "I apologize if it causes your discomfort, your Highness. Next time I will stand farther."

Legolas didn't say anything further, just walked away. Yet the bard's word lingered in his mind.

His father didn't mention anything about his safety, as the King cares for his subjects more than his son.

"Don't act alone on any tasks. " The bard said. And it gave him an idea.

If he went alone, he would be putting no other elves' lives in danger.

Notes:

Thank you for your kudos and comments, they mean a lot to me!

Chapter 6

Summary:

Legolas sneaked into Dol Guldur and was trapped.

Legolas lowered his body, merged into the moist shadows. The giant tree branches were covered by soppy grayish mosses and fleshy fungus. Each touch left a gross slimy feeling on his fingertips. he grimaced at the unpleasant tactility, hoping the rotten fishy smell wouldn't linger too long.

He had travelled into the gloomy shades for three days, leaving the sunlight, fresh air and civilized villages behind. Before the departure, he sent a message to Taurial informing his delay to the border, lest she raised any unnecessary suspicion of his whereabouts. Therefore no one knew that right now, he was marching deep into the southern part of the currently 'not so green' woods.

Wood elves had abandoned this part of the homeland several decades ago. The once elegant halls, temples, gardens and cottages were covered by poisonous spider webs and smelly mould, like mummified ancient bodies preserved in rotten shrouds.

The Prince was sad to see all those ghosts of the past glorious, but he dared not to linger, as many dangerous beasts and insects were preying around. He kept himself well-hided, managed not to disturb the eerie quietness most of the time.

He slew several giant spiders on his way, noticing the number of them was rising as he approaching Dol Guldur. His hypothesis was correct. The closer he got to the dark fortress, the worse the infestations he saw. Dol Guldur was the heart of the corruption, the source of the expanding filthy darkness.

Now he could see the high towers rising from the sea of ancient trees, thin and bony like the remains of a giant. He hadn't seen any trace of Orcs or Trolls, but there were old foodprints scattered under the decaying leaves.

Legolas approached the fortress quietly, steps light and supple like a strand of skimming moonlight. He passed through the towering stone arch and mottled walls, scrambled rugged and broken stairs, carefully perceiving any shuffling sound in the dark. He heard nothing, not even chirps of crickets nor hoots of owls. There was only still air and dead silence, and it was incredibly eerie.

Had this fortress already been abandoned? Was he wrong about the cause of the infestations?

Legolas could sense something wrong about this place, like a black hole sucking out all the light and hope. Tendrils of miasma curled around him, whispering something incomprehensible.

He felt like he was watched, but there was no one.

He reached a decadent and half-collapsed hall surrounded by rows of pillars and steep corridors, and in the middle of the emptiness, there was a throne covered by tangled thistles and thorns.

Legolas approached the throne curiously, eyes tracing the tentacle-like vines to the farther shadows. He was surprised to find they were alive, and there were delicate and coquettish red flowers interspersed in between the sharp barbs.

Legolas felt an ominous yet strong draw toward those flowers. They were so red, blood-stain-like, a sinful yet breath-taking beauty bloomed in the suffocating darkness. They swayed in the damp wind, giving out all of their life and desire, calling for the intruder's admiration.

Legolas was mesmerized, didn't even register that he was extending his hand toward one of them. As his index finger was about to touch the petals, the vine suddenly moved, wrapping around his wrists like a snake in a blink of an eye. The barbs dug into his right wrist mercilessly and the pain caused him to yelp.

Legolas tried to withdraw his arm, but countless vines appeared from nowhere and crept onto his other arm and his waist, wrapping around his neck and almost chocked him. As he stepped back to try to escape, a sharp pain exploded on his ankle and tripped him. He lost balance but did not fall, as his body was captured by more thorns and flowers covered vine.

He was held firm and tie, like an unfortunate butterfly entangled by a spider web. Piercing barbs tore his tunic and broke his fair and tender skin. Trickles of blood stained the slender body.

He struggled desperately, ignoring the serried pain spreading through his whole body. But the vines were stronger than iron and steel, and all of his attempts only provoked them to shrink tighter, digging deeper into his flesh.

And then, a voice intruded his mind.

"Fear not, young Prince of Mirkwood. I have no intention to harm you."

It was a treacherous voice, not like anything he had heard before. It was hollow and dark, devoid of life, echoing like a perpetual nightmare.

Legolas shivered.

"Who are you! Show yourself!"

A gush of bemused laughter hovered over him, and the voice said, "I am your liberator, your deepest desire."

"You are the necromancer that has been poisoning our land!"

"Am I?" The voice kept chuckled annoyingly like a cat playing with its prey, "And what are you, pretty Elfling? Knowing what's my capability and still come all by yourself, should I praise your gallantry, or mock your stupidity?"

Legolas answered by a new round of desperate struggle. Fear crept up his spine and seized his heart.

If he died here, no one would know. His body would be tarnished by mould, filth and evil, rotting silently into a puddle of goo, and even if anyone found him, they wouldn't have recognized him.

He would never see his father again, and he had not yet said goodbye. Their last conversation didn't end well, and he would never have a chance to make it up.

He's angry, pathetic self would be the last thing Thranduil remembered.

Maybe...Maybe they can still meet in the Hall of Mandos? But would Valar permit him to enter the Undying Land after seeing through his fëa?

They would see...they would know his sin and reject him. And he would be lost and wander between life and death like a ghost. He would never see his ada again.

Legolas started to panic, thrusting in all directions regardless of how many new wounds had been carved out.

His fear excited the formless entity, and dark energy tendrils intertwine around the Prince's bleeding body, licking blood from the fresh wounds.

"Hmmm, delicious... I could taste something in your blood. Something rich and dark. Ah, I see. You are drawn to me because you are not as pure and innocent as you look, Elf. Your soul has been corrupted by the...sinful desire."

Legolas's chest tightened in shock, "I don't know what are you talking about."

"Don't you? " The voice was filled with malice and lust.

And suddenly, Legolas was in another place.

He was still trapped by the mysterious vine and cannot move, but he was at home. To be more precise, an older home before they moved further north into the Thousand Caves Palace. He could see himself standing outside of the King's room. He was twenty years old, an elfling only half of his current height. He held a small fruit cake in his left hand, right hand knocking on Ada's door with a determined expression.

Legolas remembered that day. It was his twentieth birthday, and Nana had passed away three years ago. He missed his Ada terribly since he hadn't seen him for a month, so he figured that delivering his own birthday cake was a good enough reason to see Thranduil.

The door was opened, and his beautiful father was there, towering him like Valar himself. Legolas offered the cake timidly, struggling to say something, but words failed to come to his anxious mind.

"I'm busy. Go find Galion."

That was the only words Thranduil gave him, and then the door closed.

He stood outside of the door for a while, unable to comprehend his too-fast failure. He didn't even get a chance to say anything.

A couple of minutes later, a realization struck him. Thranduil forgot his birthday.

It was the first time the King forgot his birthday, and it was also the last time the Prince celebrated his birthday.

And then the memory shifted. Legolas was fifty years old, a junior elf that looks almost the same as the current himself, but still younger, shorter in height and smaller in build. He just came back from his first patrol as a warrior, and he was thrilled to go back to meet Ada and tell him every wondrous thing he had seen in the deep forest.

There was no warm welcome when he was back, but Legolas half expected it. He rushed toward the King's study regardless of Galion's effort to stop him, and as he was opening the door, he was shocked to see his father was kissing an elf Lady feverishly, their clothes in disarray.

"Get out."The King commanded dismissively without even lookup.

Legolas closed the door and left quietly, though he was unsure why his heart ached so much.

And he just could not forget what he saw. Not the Lady, no...The one that appeared in his doomed dreams was a tall, marble-like and strong body. Those chiselled muscles were covered in sweat. And the elegant and perfect visage, always expressionless, now burning with passion and desire.

And then the memory shifted again. Legolas was a hundred years old, finally reached his majority.

Galion insisted on honouring him a feast, even though he was not so keen on the idea. The banquet was not on his birthday as he had decided never to celebrate his birthday again. Instead, it would have been held on the day of the spring festival.

However, a couple of days before the banquet, a herald rushed in and reported a pact of Orc was harassing a village located at the west edge of the Realm. Legolas took off with his troops without a second thought, and it turned out the Orcs were great in number and came prepared.

The fought was bloody and nasty. Many elves were killed, and Legolas was poorly wounded. He still managed to hold his position and pushed onward, chased the Orcs away. The moment he gave the order to stop chasing, he blacked out from losing too much blood and was carried back to the Palace by griefing soldiers as they thought he might not make it.

He vaguely recalled hearing Ada calling his name in his coma, feeling his hand was held by another pair of long-lost warm hands. He could hear the thick and desperate sadness in that voice, and he refused to leave the distant golden figure alone in this cold and lonely world.

He refused the call of Mandos, scrambled back toward the golden figure and the warm hand. But when he woke up, he was alone, and the King was already left for Imladris to meet with Elrond for an urgent matter. He waited day and night with all the eagerness, hoping that when Thranduil returns, he could finally get him back. That he could be Ada's little green leaf again and Ada would be his, and his only.

But he knew he was wrong when he heard that the King brought back a fair healer of Imladris and that the King was very fond of him.

Too many memories, too many painful longing and disappointments, and Legolas was sobbing uncontrollably before he knew. He did not understand what was wrong with him, why wasn't he good enough, and why did he have those unspeakable thoughts about his own father.

He hated himself, despised himself, and suddenly, death did not seem so awful.

"Do not cry, my little green leaf."

Legolas's heart paused. He raised his head, and Thranduil was there, looking at him with gentle and caring eyes, lips curled up in a warm and loving smile.

"Ada?" He could not believe his own eyes.

He was dreaming. This was definitely dreaming.

Thranduil extended his hand and touched Legolas's cheek, wiped away his tears with so much affection.

"I'm sorry Ada, I'm so sorry!"

"Shhh, It's ok, ion-nin. Everything will be ok." The Elven King whispered, bringing the Prince's wounded body into his arms, softly stroking the long golden strands. And Legolas buried his face over Ada's shoulder, inhaling the heavenly smell of his father greedily like a thirsty wanderer.

....................

Thranduil was on edge, and he could not figure out why. Not even Feandir's music could cheer him up.

Legolas left for the border eight days ago after their quarrel. It was not the first time the Prince left the Palace. In fact, Legolas had spent more time in the woods than in the Palace during the recent century. So why was he fidgeting?

Thranduil dismissed Feandir and paced the Chancery Room. His eyes fell on some archived papers, and Legolas's signature laid there, quietly staring at him. He remembered seeing the fleeting hurt glittering in those sapphire eyes when he ordered his son to leave and join the border patrol. And the dreadfulness suddenly intensified tenfold.

He was too hard on Legolas. Galion always told him so.

Sighing with frustration, Thranduil poured himself a goblet of wine. While he was sipping at it, Galion knocked on the door and request to see him in an urgent voice.

Thranduil granted the entrance immediately, a foreboding feeling brewing in his stomach.

Galion barged in with another red-haired elf who clearly had just ridden here day and night without stopping. Her name was Tauriel, Legolas's most trusted captain and friend.

"My King, Prince Legolas is missing!" Galion was clearly in a barely contained panic.

Thranduil's heart skipped a beat, "what?!"

Tauriel explained hastily, " I received a letter from His Highness about five days ago saying he delayed his departure. But yesterday I learnt from a newly arrived troop that he had left the Palace seven days ago and he hasn't shown up! I have sent everyone who was not on duty to search for him before coming here, but I doubt we will find anything, as seven days was too long and he could be anywhere. "

Thranduil placed down the goblet calmly, yet the wine spilled out on the table, redded the papers.

"Galion, prepare the elk. I am leaving now."

Galion startled, "But we still don't know where did he go. He could have left Greenwood."

Thranduil inhaled deeply, tried to slow down his frantic heartbeat and to mask his trepidation, "no, he is still in the woods, and I know where did he go."

Chapter 7

Summary:

Thranduil found Legolas in Dol Guldur

Thranduil rode with a group of guards forded across rivers, tramped over mountains, and dived into the heart of the forest's deep south area. He dared not to rest nor sleep as he worried about what might have happened to Legolas during the past days. Maybe his son was suffering unimaginatively every minute right now, and he had to force himself to stop going down that road lest it drove him mad.  

As the party approaching Dol Guldur, horses and the elk were getting unsettling and spooked by the ominous miasma and the horrible creatures hiding in it. Eventually, they refused to advance any further, no matter how insistent their masters urged them to move. 

They had to abandon theirs rids and marched forward on legs. Several times giant spiders surrounded the wood elves, tried to make themselves a nice and warm dinner, but were slain easily by guards.

The forbidding fortress awaited in the swirling mist, imposing great dread on the firstborns' hearts. The group carefully scoured surrounding areas. Discovering no trace of orcs nor other presence, they slipped inside the decaying castle and towers. Thranduil swiftly went by rows after rows of pillars and statures, searched corridors after corridors. His armour clanged in the desolated silence, like a pebble falling into the still water.

There was no trace of any living thing.

He was getting agitated and impatient. His steps were more reckless and hasty. Where was Legolas? Was he wrong that Legolas hadn't been here after all?

"Legolas!" He called loudly, his low but powerful voice rumbled and echoed, received no reply.

"My King, this place looks deserted. Maybe we should split up to look for His Highness?" Tauriel, who followed the searching party, questioned carefully. 

Thranduil considered shortly and nodded in acquiescence. This fortress was bigger and emptier than he expected, so the danger of being attacked was low. Splitting up could cover more ground promptly. 

He led several guards treaded higher along the spiral stairs. And after a while, he suddenly realized that he could not hear the other guard's steps following him anymore. It was like the sound was there one second and erased the next moment completely. He turned around, and there were only empty stairs and pillars and a gush of floating milky mist cutting off his sight.

He looked up. The mist was enclosing.

He had an unsettling feeling of being watched. 

"Legolas!!!" He called again and decided to keep going up. He could sense that Legolas was near, could even smell the fresh leafy scent in the damp, rotten air. He could not give up now.

"What do you want?"

Thranduil halted, eyes darting at his back and didn't see anyone. Only mist, endless mist.

"Who are you! Show yourself!"He snapped. 

The voice was like the mist itself, elusive and shapeless, with a hint of awe, "How peculiar, he had said precisely the same thing. The resemblance between father and son is astounding."

"Where is Legolas?"Thranduil was threatened. Icy rage could bring the strongest warrior down to their keen, "If you have ever touched a hair on him I will burn this cursed place down to ash, you with it!"

"He is waiting for you." The voice shifted from one side to the other, "but do you really want him back?"

"He is my son!"

"That's not the answer."

Thranduil inhaled deeply, tried to calm his temper and dismay, "Yes. Yes, I want him back!"

"In what way?"

"What do you mean?"

The voice chuckled, teasingly, "I can smell it on you too. I thought it was only him, but I was wrong. How fascinating." 

"Stop talking nonsense. Just name your price!" Thranduil commanded and, rushing up the stairs, tried to see if someone was in the mist.

"Did you remember the first time you started to see him differently?"

Thranduil blinked.

What?

"He was one hundred and fifty-two years old, already passed the majority and started to explore the newly founded world of pleasure. You saw him, one night after he came back from another fight with some bandit intruders."

Thranduil froze.

How did he...

"He no longer sought you after he came back, did he? Have you wondered when did he stop seeking comfort from you? Or did you care?
You see, when one is fighting tooth and claw for one's life, the excitement could be too high that it wouldn't go down even after the fight was over. Your son fought fiercely that day, and there were so much rage and self-loathe that even I was astonished. 

He hated killing things, but it had to be done, and after that, he wanted to be punished. So he seduced one of the guards, who had pale hair and a broad build just like someone he knows, and let himself be bent over a table and be fucked to oblivious. 

You saw him, didn't you? You saw how he sprawled across the table, armours and garments were torn away, golden hair was grasped roughly in the guard's hand. His legs were so white, glowing in the dark hall, and they were shaking, partly from pain but more from pleasure. The guard slammed into him savagely, sending his whole body shivering like a little green leaf, while he moaned and plead..."

"Shut up!!!"Thranduil started to doubt if the voice actually existed, or if it was all in his mind, that he was going mad. How otherwise did the voice know...

"You saw it, and you liked it." The voice purred in his ear. He could almost feel the puff of air.

Thranduil trembled in fear. 

No one could have known! Not even Legolas! 

"Fear not, your majesty. Your secrete is safe with me. Even better, I can fulfill your deepest desire."

"You are nothing but a filthy liar! How dare you talk about my son like that while hiding in the mist? Show your face you cowardice sorcerer!"

"There is no shame in love and desire, for they were given to you by gods. Obdurate repression will only bring destruction and regret. Why resist true happiness simply because of some unforeseeable punishment? Why obey the rules that were written for lesser souls? Accept who you truly are, and you both will be happy."

The seducing tone was dripping with poisonous honey and musk, snaked into the King's mind and wrung his thought into a chaotic swirling. He felt like a piece of cloth jammed in his skull, and he could not think properly.

There was something in the voice irresistible and powerful that lulled him toward a dark pit that he could never return. He bit his lower lip, tried to stay lucid and to block that voice with all his will. 

He had to save Legolas.

The King stumbled on, ignoring the enchanting calling that was besieging him. 

"Accept your love, your desire, for there will be no punishment, no pain. You will be happy, your son will be happy, and no consequence will ever doom you. 

You will be free, if only you choose to serve...the one."

"The one" echoed in his mind, inducing unbearable dreadfulness...and uncontrollable lust. He was frustrated and struggled to focus. His body seemed already succumb to the voice, although his mind was still fighting.

Had to move, had to carry on, do not listen...do not listen.

And then, he was in the hall.

The decadent, ruined hall, haunted by sinister whispers. And in the middle of the empty space, a throne stood alone.

On the throne, a slender figure was sealed by a nest of thorns and flowers, like a butterfly trapped in a spider web. 

His head dropped as if he was unconscious, golden strands fell from his shoulder. His tunic was torn apart by barbs. Dry blood crisscrossed his bared throat, chest, and legs, marred the flawless skin mercilessly. His arms were forced out by vines and thorns, scattered with cuts and wounds. And the flowers grew over his wounds were feasting on his sweet blood, blooming fiercely like there would be no tomorrow. 

It was a cruel scene, but it was also beautiful.

Thranduil was stunned, mesmerized even, and then his consciousness wiggled free from the enchantment for a brief period, and he recognized who the figure was. 

Legolas.

Notes:

Here is the beautiful fanart by ssssand: https://twitter.com/ssssand4/status/1419242608853872645?s=21, based on this chapter <3

Chapter 8

Summary:

Doomed.

Notes:

Warning: dubious consent as both parties were under Sauron's spell's influence.

Thranduil rushed toward the throne, unsheathed his long sword and chopped down the tangled thorns and vines with several crisp and swift swings. Losing the restrain from the thorny shackles, Legolas fell into a long lost embrace. His foggy mind could not comprehend what was happening.

Thranduil carefully pulled out the thorns that buried deep inside the Prince's skin, trying his best to keep his hand from shaking. Blood trickled down from the countless small wounds, creating a crisp and intriguing contrast from the fair skin.

"Legolas, are you awake?" Thranduil held Legolas's face between his palms, voice gentle and hasty, "can you walk?"

Legolas looked into his father's blue stares in bewilderment, as if he just woke from a long dream and did not recognize who was rescuing him. He furrowed his brows in contemplation, trying to make sense of who did the beautiful eyes belong.

"Ada?" He murmured, and then a peculiar glint of affection and desire filled his gaze.

The next moment, Thranduil could not make sense of what was happening as the Prince inclined and placed his lips on his father's.

Thranduil froze. All thought left his already compromised mind.

He grabbed Legolas's shoulders and pulled him away. Legolas was unwilling, but he was not strong enough to withstand the King's force. A dissatisfied moan escaped the Prince's lips, full of almost childish frustration.

"What are you doing?" Thranduil was stunned.

"I'm kissing you."

"I grasped that. What I'm asking is why did you do that?!"The King's voice started to fill with agitation and confusion, which frightened the not-so-himself Prince. Legolas flinched, asking timidly, "why are you angry with me?"

Thranduil stared.

Legolas was not alright. What did the sorcerer do to him?

"I'm not...We can deal with this later, but now we have to leave!" Thranduil grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him up. But Legolas yelped in pain and tripped down, and Thranduil noticed that there was another thorn encircled the Prince's right ankle, which was bleeding horribly.

He hurried down to cut the thorn and to avoid hurting Legolas further, untangling the thorns by hand. In precipitation, he felt a stinging pain flared on his index finger and saw a barb stuck, blood oozing out. The next moment, dizziness enveloped him like a colossal toppling wave.

His head was spinning, and threatening clouds were infesting his thoughts bit by bit. He could felt something was melted away, something that had held all of his forbidden desires and dark impulses at bay.

"Let it go, take what was rightfully yours." The doomed voice intruded his mind, casting an overpowering spell on his mind.

Thranduil wasn't sure what was happening to him, but when he raised his head, he saw Legolas sitting in front of him, leaning against the throne.

The Elven Prince had very little cloth left, tunic hanged from his slender form in tatters, long crevices entwined his breeches, showing segments of soft skins on his collar bones, chest, waist and thigh. Delicious blood stained his oh so perfect body, not too much, just the right amount to show the always so strong and proud Prince's hidden side of fragility, to evoke a dormant desire to possess and to dominate in the elder elf's heart.

An overwhelming lust washed over Thranduil's mind, and something in his eyes changed. The sharp and icy gaze glazed with hunger and predatory longing, his white-jade alike skin flushed feverishly. And it was definitely not helping when Legolas's hand touched his knee eagerly, thin and delicate lips moaning, "Ada, please..."

Thranduil raised his hand to stroke Legolas's cheek, his touch gentle and timid at first but transformed into a tight and demanding grip on his chin the next moment. The King forced his son to open his mouth without much effort, for the younger one complied immediately, and then he kissed those lips that he secretly desired for many years.

It's more like an onslaught.

Teeth bit down on lips tasting more blood, tongues entwined with each other. Thranduil sucked and ravaged the younger elf's lips so hard and left them red and swelling beautifully. The Prince was making all kinds of sweet noises shamelessly, responding with the same hunger and wanting. His prick was already hardened as rock, and the King certainly felt it.

"Is this what you want? To be ravished by your own father? Have you no shame?" Thranduil whispered into the pointy ear, nibbled on the sensitive edge.

Legolas shivered. His face was burning in shame and passion, yet he admitted with several nodes, eyes averted.

"Say it while looking at me!" The King commanded.

Legolas reluctantly raised his gaze to meet with the elders, blushed deliciously and voice husky, "yes, Adar."

He had wanted this for so long!

Thranduil looked down on the younger one, finger lingered down to his neckline, outlining the elegant shape of the clavicle, "I will show you no mercy, and I will not be gentle nor caring, and after I am done with you, you will be sore for days and covered by my marks. Every time you sit or bent you will feel like I'm still in you, and you will come back to this very moment, remember what I've done to your body. Do you still want it?"

Each word that Thranduil uttered ignited more burning flames in Legolas's chest, and the flame swiftly spread to every inch of his body, especially the groin part.

"Yes! Yes I want you! I want to be marked by you!" Legolas grabbed Thranduil's cloak and begged, "Please Ada!"

"As you wish."

Legolas yelped in surprise as Thranduil's arms extended under his knees and scooped him up effortlessly, and shoved him into the throne. His breeches and remaining clothes were torn off by strong hands and he felt like a hapless lamb, waiting to be slaughtered.

And he liked it so much that his dick was leaking pre-cum.

Thranduil was kissing and biting his neck while stripping him naked, the exploiting hands now roaming over his bare chest, pinched his left nipple playfully first, and then devoured it with the skillful mouth. Legolas whimpered and his toes curling as Thranduil gnawed on the reddened nipple. He arched his back to meet with more sensation.

Thranduil raised Legolas's long legs, draped each of them on either armrest of the throne. Before his father, Legolas was under full examination, legs opened wide, dick dripping and hole squirming, ready to be used. He covered his eyes with his right arm to hide the embarrassment, but Thranduil stopped him.

"I want to see your face when I'm taking you." The King smirked devilishly.

And then, Thranduil held Legolas's prick and started stroking sluggishly. Acute pleasure rushed up to the Prince's head, and he felt like he was floating in clouds, and all the sensations were building up toward an exhilarating bursting point. As he began to moan, two fingers shoved into his mouth and stirred, playing with his tongue and poked around. Legolas gaged in surprise but then started to suck on those fingers with enthusiasm.

Seeing his son shuttered in pleasure and sucking his fingers like it was the most delicious food in the world, Thranduil felt his crotch was about to explode and could no longer hold back. He unbuckled his own breeches to release some pressure, and then removed his saliva coated fingers from Legolas's mouth, and encircled the Prince's tight hole teasingly.

Legolas bit his lower lip in anticipation, but still gave out a startled cry when one finger breached the muscle rim.

The inside of Legolas was so hot, soft and wet and it almost burnt Thranduil. He had to use all his left will to refrain from taking Legolas right now and then. He thrust the finger for a while, pressing around the tight muscles to stretch, and then added another finger. He scissored and thrust for a while, and then pressed at a spot deep down, and Legolas's whole body jolted, crying out in surprise.

The King's smile deepened and began to massage on that spot. Legolas squirmed and whimpered, tried to close his legs to escape the too overwhelming sensation, yet Thranduil held his right leg in place and commanded, "don't move!"

Legolas obeyed instantly, hands grabbed the top of the throne tightly, knuckles turning white. He bit his lips tight but could not contain the leaking sobs.

"Please..."

"Please what?"

"I can't...Please..."

"You have to tell me what you want, Ion nin."

Legolas was so frustrated. Why do they always want him to beg? He gave up and shouted, "Please fuck me now! I want you to fuck me!"

The King smiled in complacent, withdrew the fingers, pushed Legolas's legs higher, and aligned his own leaking cock to the hangry entrance.

It was the first time Legolas saw his father's cock. He imagined it thousands of times, but it was even more perfect than his imagination. It was very long and thick, glowed in beautiful red-pink colour, as majestic as the King himself.

Legolas stared at it and swallowed, a bit intimidated by its size.

Thranduil chuckled, "do you want to quit now?"

Legolas shook his head, "no, I want you, I want you always!"

Thranduil pulled Legolas's hair and gave him a long deep kiss while began to push in, slow and steady. Muscles were stretched so tight and the tingling pan brought tears to the Prince's eyes.

"Relax, my love."Thranduil murmured into his mouth.

The word "love" itself was enough to make Legolas sob. He opened his legs wider, held them in his own arms for better access. Thranduil kissed away the tears and smiled, and never stopped pushing forward until he was finally wholly buried inside the Prince's hot and tight body.

The King sighed in bliss. Long arms surrounded the smaller elf's body in a warm and possessive hug. He paused for a few moments, and then the onset began.

The thrusting was more powerful and dominating than any of Legolas's previous lovers. Each time the King's cock reached to the deepest part of his body, like opening up a new territory. His was crushed between the King and the stone throne, body rocked with the King's rhythm, sobbing and crying were smashed into bits and pieces by the invading force. He felt like a piece of weightless leaf drifted in a windstorm, about to be torn apart by the maddening pleasure.

It was nothing like any previous lovemaking with others. It was madness and wholesomeness at the same time. He was doomed, and yet he was finally home.

Thranduil bit on Legolas's shoulder and neck, left petal-like bruises. He could hardly control himself from devouring the younger elf completely. Legolas felt amazing, too amazing that paled all his other affairs. It was a rare sense of wholeness, like they belonged to each other from the very beginning, like their bodies recognized each other.

How can something felt so good to be wrong?

Why couldn't they have it?

An obscure sense of regret and frustration crept at the back of Thranduil's mind, and his thrusts grew more erratic and savage. Legolas's legs dangled from the King's arms, whithering into a puddle of mess. His prostate was hit by the mighty force repeatedly, drowning him in the thunderstorm of pleasure.

"Please...slow down..."He begged, but the King could not hear him. He was in total helplessness, and can only wait to be carried to the top of the next wave.

When the sensation became too much, a white light flashed in front of the Prince's eyes, and his whole body spasmed in orgasm. Gush after gush of cum squirted from his prick and stained his and Thranduil's abdomens. The Elven King reached the limit soon after. With one last deep thrust, Thranduil growled and released inside the hot body beneath. Hot white liquid flux into the deeper place, marked the Prince permanently from within.

Thranduil collapsed onto the younger elf, held him in his arms. They were panting heavily as if just survived a brutal battle.

The spell cast on them was waning away, and the dark mist surrounding them was slowly receding. As clarity gradually creeping back into his mind, Thranduil's expression slowly shifted into horror.

He supported himself and looked down.

Legolas withered on the stone throne, passed out from overwhelming climax. His body was covered by small cuts, blood, teeth marks and bruises. Legs wide open, and...

And he was still inside his own son.

"What have I done..."

Chapter 9

The guards searched for the King and the Prince everywhere futilely. It was like Thranduil was three steps in front of them at one moment, and in the next just vanished in the milky mist without a trace. They had to turn back to report to Tauriel for further instruction.

Tauriel was unsure what to do next, as this place was like an endless labyrinth with many layers, and they didn't have enough people to cover every part of it. She could sense something threatening and corrupting in the air but cannot pinpoint the source, and she feared that diving into the fortress further recklessly without a good plan would make the situation worse.

As she was considering all the viable rescuing choices, the tread sound echoed in the misty courtyard. All guards stood up in alert, hands set on swords and arrows. But the tall figure that emerged from the fog was no other than King Thranduil. He carried Legolas in his arms, who was wrapped tightly in his cloak. The Prince passed out, head leaned on the King's shoulder, naked legs dangled out of the cloak, scattered with scratches and cuts from the thorns.

Tauriel hastened in, "My King! What happened? How was Legolas? "

Thranduil's expression was pale and hollow, the usually piercing eyes now soulless. He answered in a nonchalant voice, "We need to leave now. All the way non stop until we reach the closest village."

And just as he ordered, the woodland Elves never stop to rest or replenish. They found their horses and the King's elk and rid all the way north as if chased by an invisible enemy. Thranduil kept Legolas in front of him, always used one arm to hold him, let him lean on his chest. He dared not to think, not to remember, for they were not out of danger yet.

They rode for day and night and finally flew out of the shadowy part of the woodland. The moonlight breached thining smog, like clear water flowing among frondent branches. Cozy cottages, tidy gardens, divine shrines and sacred temples hid in the labyrinth of trees, like front guards stood against the impending evil.

The village was called Cýron, a new moon in Sindarin. A moon marked the end of darkness and the hope of salvation. 

But could he ever be saved, could this sin ever be washed clean? 

Would there be hope for him and his son?

Thranduil did not know.

The wood elves in the village received them with astonishment and ardour. Thranduil carried Legolas into one nearest cottage and set him on the bed.

"Everyone out. Tauriel, bring me hot water, cloth and herbs for wounds."

"Should I also call a healer?"

"No! Not yet. Now go!"

When Tauriel brought back the items, she was rushed out quickly and ordered not to let anyone enter unless requested. She worried about Legolas, couldn't fathom why the King was so secretive and panicked. She had never seen Thranduil like this before, for the Elven King always held a confident and insouciance mannerism. 

What happened in the mist? Was Legolas badly injured? 

Thranduil locked the door, turned and facing the sleeping figure with a dreadful feeling in his gut. Was it guilt, anger or fear he knew not. The only thing he was sure of was that no one should ever know what happened in that Valar forsaken place. 

They were doomed because he was not strong enough to resist...It was all his fault...

But he had to attend to Legolas now. All other things could wait.

He unwrapped the cloak, and what was revealed brought a stinging sensation to his eyes. Dry blood, torn skin, shallow wounds and cuts, and amidst of them, those bite marks and bruises ...They were the evidence of his crime, their crime, and there was no escape from it for their long eternal life.

He wet the cloth in the water and carefully cleaned all the blood and dirt from the fair skin, including the private areas, and then gently applied the cream to each wound. He tried his best to focus on the task and not dwell on the memories associated with those marks.

Legolas was not gravely injured, in fact most of the wounds were superficial and could be healed in a day or two. Though he wasn't sure if the necromancer's spell was still infesting the Prince's mind, and if not, how much did he remember...

Perhaps he should ask for a healer after all, but first, he had to clean Legolas up, had to cover their crime and shame.

He had asked a guard to find some clean clothes. Now he dressed Legolas with attentive hands, concealed the tarnished body with soft silks. Legolas slept quietly and peacefully, with an innocent look that reminded him of the mid-day sunshine over a dozing water lily, not a trace of that fierce warrior he had become. Thranduil watched his son quietly, gently stroking the pale golden hair that so much like himself's.

He remembered when Legolas was very young, when his wife hadn't passed to the Hall of Mandos, he used to stroke the elfling's hair like this, humming a lullaby to lull the energetic little thing into the dreamland. Legolas always favoured him over the late queen, which was relatively uncommon among elflings. He loved Thranduil's humming and his slow strokes on his hair that the little Prince refused to go to sleep without him.

Thranduil still remembered the tone of the song, yet his voice had turned dry and dull, his heart was hardened by long years of sorrow indulging and solitary, and it was too late to go back.

So many times had wasted away in his sorrow and regret, and now...

Now he could never repair what had been broken.

He held Legolas's left hand to his lips, kissed the fingers in despair.

....................

Legolas woke up feeling disoriented, wasn't sure where he was and which day it was. It all felt like a wired and erotic dream, which he had had several times before, also involved his ada. But this time...this time, it was too real that his body was still sore from it.

And then, his pupil dilated and a shiver mixed with shock, doubt, fear and bashfulness ran through his warm body. 

He remembered.

He remembered everything.

He was captured by those poisonous thorns and the invisible necromancer cast a spell on his mind. In those hallucinations, he did so many degenerate and unspeakable things with his father, but it all turned dull and ashy when he actually saw his father standing in front of him like a god, eyes flooding with care and worry for him.

He hadn't seen that tenderness for ages. He thought he'd never seen it again. And instead of feeling relieving that Thranduil came for his rescue, he was struck by an imposing urge to kiss his father.

By the time, his mind was in such a helpless erratic state that he actually act on his desires...He kissed Thranduil, and then...and then his father kissed him back and more?

They had done it. They had committed one of the greatest sins in any species and cultures. He remembered how Thranduil bit and sucked his neck and collarbone, how he was lifted up by strong arms as if he was light as feathers, and how he was devoured in every way possible, his inside and his very core branded by the King's smell.

He must have been dreaming...it was impossible...

Or did he?

Legolas rolled his head to the side and startled to find Thranduil was dozing off beside him. Long limbs sprawling on the ground in a not very Kingly way and head leaning against the edge of the bed, open eyes glazed with misty fog.

Did he stay at his side the whole night?

Which day is it now?

He watched the sleeping King for several long moments, not sure what was going on with them. He should have horrified by their deed on that cursed throne, should have hated himself for seducing his father shamelessly to the dark pit of damnation, but all he could register now is that he was actually happy.

Thranduil kissed him, made love to him!

Thranduil loved him!

It was his wildest dream that came true, his hopeless desire reciprocated after so many years of coldness and distance. It happened at the least ideal time and place, but still, it meant that it was not all in his head. He was not alone.

He wanted to laugh, but smiled in silence instead.

He sat up quietly, extended a trembling hand to touch Ada's sharp cheekbone, drawing a line along with the luxurious eyebrows. 

Thranduil stirred, waking up from his playful touches. He blinked eyes, groaned from the muscle soreness caused by the awkward position he slept in. 

Legolas swallowed, heart in throat. He was terrified and anticipating at the same time, not sure what tone he should use to address his father.

"Ada..."

Thranduil visibly flinched, met his son's gaze in the middle of a strained air. They stared at each other for a long time, as though they no longer recognize the face opposite to themselves. After the elongated silence, the hesitation in the King's eyes shifted to something cold and hard.

"Good, you are awake." Thranduil stood up elegantly, no longer keeping eye contact, "I will send a healer. We will depart in three hours."

Just like that, Thranduil left.

Legolas watched the door closed, stupefied like the reality was too elusive that he could not understand. 

Did Thranduil just leave like that? 

Was that all he wanted to say?

And yet Legolas was expecting more since they have...done what they did. 

He looked down on himself, noticing he had been cleaned and treated. Did father do that, or was it a healer?

No...Ada would not let anyone see him like that...too risky...

When the healer came in, Legolas refused the check-up as he wanted to avoid unnecessary questions. What happened in Dol Guldur could not be known by a third soul, not counting the necromancer that doomed them in the first place. 

He shoved some bread and butter down his empty stomach when Tauriel entered. He beamed at her, and she returned a relieved smile.

"Never do something stupid like this again!" She rebuked, "promise me!"

Legolas chuckled, "you have done far more 'stupid' things than me."

"And I always had a backup plan. What was your backup plan, Your Highness?" She asked sarcastically yet warmly, stared at the suspicious bruise on the Prince's neck a bit too long.

Legolas pulled the collar up.

"What happened in Dol Guldur?" Tauriel asked, "You and him both disappeared, and the King looked pale and shaken when he came back with you in his arms. I have never seen him like that before."

Legolas also turned paled, just a little, but Tauriel could sense something was amiss.

"Legolas? "

"He looked in distress?"Legolas asked in a hushed voice.

Tauriel noded, "very. I was worried that it was because you were badly injured. But he didn't tell me much."

So...Thranduil regretted...

That was why he was so cold after he woke up.

How could he not? He was probably under the necromancer's spell as well. He probably didn't want it at all.

Worse, he probably hated Legolas's gut for what had happened.

Tauriel watched Legolas's expression changed subtly and yet profoundly. The lightness and joyful spark dissolved like snow fall in water, quick and quiet. Her heart sank, "Legolas, what happened? Were you hurt?"

Legolas shook his head, "no, I'm fine. Nothing happened. "He pulled a smile at her, stood up and started to riffling through the travel clothes that a servant brought in aimlessly, "I want to get ready for departure. I will see you later."

Tauriel sensed the conversation was over. She sighed and left the room. Hearing the door closing again, Legolas stopped all motions, sitting on the bed staring at the vine decorated ceiling, eyes hollow and empty.

What was going to happen now?

Notes:

It was quite a busy week for me, hopefully I could update more chapters next week _(:з」∠)_

Chapter 10

Summary:

Return to the palace and Thorin's arrival

The ride back home was in unsettling silence. Legolas rode on his horse rather than sit with Thranduil. Each step was accompanied by dull soreness at his backside, and it was a bitter reminder. 

"Every time you sit or bent you will feel like I'm still in you, and you will come back to this very moment, remember what I've done to your body. "

That was what his father said to him, and now he could not get it out of his head.

He lifted his eyes and Thranduil was right there, rode on the mighty elk with pride and dignity, long pale golden hair swaying slightly. The King had never spoken a word to him since the departure. He couldn't help but wonder if his father decided to pretend that nothing had happened or that Legolas no longer exist for him.

The familiar ache filled his chest and ate away his soul. Over the years he became more and more bitter, full of jealousy and smothering anger because he could never catch up with the tall, slim, and powerful figure in front of him. It was like chasing the sun. No matter how fast he ran, how determined he followed, it will always be out of touch. Just as he thought this time he got close, maybe he could finally reach its warmth, then he would be crashed down to the ground, lower than dirt, and the sun was still in the middle of the skydome, looking down at him with a cold sneer.

The whole journey was prolonged and dreich torture. Tauriel would talk to him from time to time but he could not focus, earning more worrisome glances from her. He wanted to talk to Thranduil about what happened, but there were always guards and he had no chance. 

Upon entering the King's Halls, Thranduil went straight to his chamber. Galion fussed over Legolas for a while but was reassured by the Prince that he was not harmed.

"You should have known better, for you are not an elfling anymore! As the Prince of the Woodland Realm you should have been more responsible and thoughtful! I am very disappointed with you young Prince! " Galion reprimanded, "For Valar sake your father almost had a heart attack!"

Trying not to let the last sentence gave himself some false hope, Legolas answered apologetically, "I shall not make the same mistake, sorry for all the troubles I caused."

Galion softened his tone, put a hand on Legolas's shoulder, "throwing yourself into unnecessary dangers is not the answer. He cares about you, just forgotten how to show it."

Legolas pulled his lips into a forceful smile.

He really wanted to believe it, but he'd known better.

After bade Galion, Legolas trotted behind Thranduil to the King's Chamber, fidgeting if he should call out. Right before Thranduil was about to open the giant oak door, he finally mustered courage and said, "are you just going to pretend nothing happened and ignore me for the rest of your life?"

Thranduil's motion froze for a millisecond and went along to turn the doorknob, "come in."

Legolas hesitated for a second, then trailed into the spacious and luxury chamber. 

Hearing the sound of the door lock, Legolas turned around and was greeted by a harsh tug on the collar. He was startled, panicking eyes meet the King's stormy, enraged glare. 

"What were you thinking! I told you expressly DO NOT go to Dol Guldur, and you disobeyed me like a wayward reckless child! Look what your tantrum had gotten us into!"The King sneered at him, harsh tone full of rage and...hatred.

Legolas felt like his heart was crushed by an invisible claw, tissues torn apart mercilessly. He swallowed several times to suppress the souring tingle in his nose and eyes and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"You better be!" Thranduil released the iron grip, turning around to take off his cloak and armour, "You have put your friend and the guards' life at unnecessary risks. I should have you wiped!"

"Then why don't you?" Legolas challenged in heartbreak, "I did not disobey you as you only forbid me to risk your people's life. I didn't, at least not by my choice."

"Don't try to be smart with me! I told you many times do not go near that place and you just won't listen! If you are trying to get yourself killed then don't do it in my realm!" 

Swallowing seemed no longer doing the trick. Legolas felt he could not breathe.

"You could have just left me there to rot !" He yelled at his father, voice breaking, "I was dead to you a long time ago haven't I?! Why bother?!"

"Because you are my son!" The King threw his shoulder plate on the ground with a big clang. Legolas had never seen his father so enraged and yet so frustrated.

Legolas laughed, bitterly and crumbled, "you didn't seem to remember that when you were fucking me on that throne."

And then there was the dead silent. The final piece of fig leaf was lifted. Now they had to face the unspeakable incident.

Thranduil closed his eyes, answered quietly, "we were under the necromancer's spell. It was a horrible mistake."

"A mistake?" Legolas approached the King with steady and demanding steps while opening the top buttons of his tunic to reveal the scattered fading bruises, "are you saying you did not enjoy it like I remembered you did? "

 Thranduil stepped back. It was the first time Legolas managed to compel his father to step back. He saw the regret, the guilt, the fear and the anger, which did not give him any triumphant feeling.

"It was not a mistake to me," Legolas confessed sorrowfully.

"What?"

"I have wanted this for centuries." 

Thranduil looked at his son, dumbstruck, "are you mad?"

Legolas stood in front of his beautiful father, raised his hand to caress the perpetual youthful cheek, "I have dreamt about this for years, and I know it is wrong. I just couldn't control my feeling. How can you force your heart not to love another? "

Thranduil grabbed his wrist firmly, thunderous gaze pierced him in place, tone threatening, "I will never hear this again! I don't care what you do. Just stop saying this nonsense."

"Is it so bad to be loved by me?" The Prince's voice was hollow and shattered, "what have I done wrong? "

"I am your father!"

"You haven't been my father for more than two hundred and fifty years."

The King stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. Legolas was not sure if he wanted to strike him or to strike himself.

No one would win in this fight. For the King never had a single trace of feeling for him.

Legolas stepped back, inhaled deeply to control his own expression. He was proud that he didn't shed any shameful tears. 

"I will report to the border as soon as possible. You won't see me for a long time."

As he turned to leave, Thranduil said quietly, "no, don't go."

"What?"

"I need you to stay here. "Before the Prince raised any hope, the King added, "Thorin, The Prince of Durin's Folk will visit us next month. Thrór wanted to reclaim Azanulbizar, and his grandson Thorin will come to lobby for my help against Azog. You will attend the meeting with me."

The letter had reached him some days ago, right before Legolas barged in to blab about Dol Guldur and the dark lord. He was in a foul mood and said harsh words to the Prince, but he did not expect they'd driven Legolas to the cursed fortress alone.

All because of that damn letter...

Legolas knew this was a serious matter for the whole Woodland Realm as it meant a deadly war between Dwarfs and Orcs was brewing, and they were caught right in the middle. But right now he was just too heartbroken and devastated to discuss stately matters with his father. All he wanted to do at this moment was to hide in a small dark corner and let the pain and panic took him over, and then he would try his best to pick up the shattered heart debris piece by piece and stuff them back into his chest, hoping it would continue beating.

"As you wish."He simply answered and left.

Thranduil stood in silence, face hiding in shadows. Only when the Prince was out of reach, he dared to let agony and self-directed hatred crashing on his features. He stumbled into an armchair, all the spent strength was gone in a blink of eyes, kingly postures collapsed into exhaustion. 

He should write warning letters to Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Mithrandir the Gray Wizard about the necromancer in Dol Guldur immediately, as he had to admit Legolas's suspicion about him might be correct after all. But he was too tired to do it right now.

He didn't tell Legolas that the dark voice hadn't ceased since they left Dol Guldur. It was like an earworm trapped in his head.

"Take what was rightfully yours." The voice told him over and over, "Accept your love, your desire, for there will be no punishment, no pain. You will be happy, your son will be happy, and no consequence will ever doom you. You will be free, if only you choose to serve...the one."

"Shut up!" Thranduil covered his ears in desperation.

................................

The Prince of Durin's Folk and the Exiled Dwarf King Thrór's grandson, Thorin, would arrive this late afternoon. Everyone knew that Thranduil held a grudge toward Dwarfs that he made no attempt to hide. Partially from his early memories of Dwarf's slaughtering his Elven kins in Doriath's battles, and partially from his dispute with Thrór over the ownership of the White Gems of Lasgalen. And the Dwarfs held a grudge to the Elven King in return as Thranduil turned his back on them when Smaug took over Erebor. Despite the estrangement and frays, Thranduil still granted an official welcome for the Dwarf Prince, and everyone in the Palace was busying with the preparations. 

Legolas also occupied himself with tedious tasks, including arranging guards and patrolling troops around the King's Hall, overseeing the safeguarding precautions for the King's treasure vault and hearing reports from border patrols in case the Orcs decided to attack them during the Dwarfs' visiting.

He used working to numb his brain and memory, kept up an indifferent facade all the time so that he would not crumple into a pathetic mess of self-pity and self-loathing. He tried his best to avoid Thranduil at all cost and was successful so far, but he could not do it for much longer as he had to join his father to welcome the guests. 

Legolas bathed himself and lost in thought until the water was running cold and the time was late. He dressed himself up quickly into a silver-lined robe and a delicate white gold circlet while looking into the mirror and telling himself: "it's ok, you can do this."

Just stay calm and indifferent. Thranduil would be too preoccupied with his annoyance toward Dwarfs that he would barely notice Legolas's presence.

Heading toward the front gate of the Halls, he ran into Feandir, who was going to entertain the Dwarfs at the later dinner time. The Lorin bard greeted him in a docile tone, "You look stunning tonight, Your Highness."

 Legolas sized the other elf up. Feandir wore a light blue tunic and decorated his braids with glittering silk strands. The bard was indeed a rare beauty, and Legolas hated him so much. He kept having this unsettling feeling that the bard was mocking him with those sly glances masked in compliance and comely smiles.

It could be just in his mind as there was no way that the bard knew his secret, but he couldn't help but want Feandir to disappear, especially after what had happened with Thranduil. Jealousy was poisoning his soul and he was afraid that one day, he would do terrible things driven by it.

He looked at the bard coldly and warningly without saying any word and proceed to join the hospitality group.

Thranduil was not at the gate for he will be waiting in the Throne Room. Legolas took the leading position, waited impatiently with Galion and other nobles, watching the sunset flushing the sky with bright rosy colours. Before the last golden ray shielded by the dense forests, the sound of galloping hooves came from the trees' shade. Soon after, Elves from the escorting party came in sight, followed by dozens of Dwarfs riding on sturdy ponies. 

Legolas shared certain prejudices about Dwarfs with his father, but he had little chance to actually know any of them. In his impression, all Dwarfs were shaggy loutish brutes who don't know elegance and manners, and most of them were covered by fuzzy untamed beards that you could barely see their faces. He had never met Thorin in person but only heard his father mentioned him after the unpleasant journey to the Lonely Mountain before the fall of Erebor, which of course, was not good words.  

Therefore it was not surprising that he'd expected the Prince of Durin's Folk would match his impression. 

However, to his surprise, the leading Dwarf that approaching him was remarkably handsome. Long wavy dark hairs flowing in the wind, dark and firm eyes contained years of vicissitudes and sorrow, beard trimmed neatly and braided.

He halted the pony in front of Legolas, walking toward the Elven Prince in a manner of dignity and confidence that towering almost all of the present Elves. The deep eyes surveyed Legolas carefully, with a hint of obscure interest.

Legolas stepped forward and bade his welcome, "it is a pleasure to meet you Thorin, son of Thráin. My name is Legolas, son of Thranduil."

Thorin tilted his head and chuckled amusingly, "yes, you resemble him very much. Except softer in the eyes."

Notes:

Can't believe I finished another chapter in one weekend XD

Chapter 11

Summary:

Legolas and Thorin fought in the training yard

Legolas ushered Thorin and his people through the long sinuous path leading to the King's Audience Terrance. Thranduil sat on the glorious Throne made with bulky oak and giant elk horns spreading like wings to both sides. He's demeanour condescending and arrogant even more than usual, as if granting some enormous benevolence to the Dwarf Prince who did not deserve his attention.

Thorin standing in front of him, head held high and proud, "King Thranduil, it has been a long time."

Legolas, who was standing at the side of the Throne, noticed the note of challenge and defiance in the Prince's tone as he spoke to address someone equal, rather than superior, while omitting all the bowing and reverence.

Very bold, for most foreign ambassadors would have been deterred by the King's glacial aura and jittering with anxiety.

However, Legolas also detected a glint of bitter joviality in those dark, bleak eyes of the Dwarf Prince, hiding behind all the defying facades.

Interesting.

Thranduil raised his chin, "Indeed, I heard you reside at Dunland now? How was your grandfather? Adapting to the...nomadic lifestyle well?"

"He was sturdy and stubborn as an old hard rock—the life of wandering made him even more so. No thanks to you."

The taut air between them was like a strained string on a lute about to break.

Galion interfered before the not-so-friendly exchange developed any further. "My King, it was a long ride for Prince Thorin. Perhaps I could show the guests to their chambers?"

Thranduil leaned on the Throne idly, one leg crossed the other, "a very thoughtful suggestion. Forgive my imprudence and rest well. We will discuss more matters tomorrow."

While Thorin and his companions were guided away by Galion, Legolas glanced toward Thranduil and was caught off guarded when he met the King's gaze. Thranduil had been watching him. 

"You look gaunt." The King remarked with an unreadable mien.

Legolas glared at his father with exasperation. What response was he expecting? Telling him that he barely slept for the past twelve days because his father wouldn't acknowledge his feelings? Should he confess how much it broke him that Thranduil won't love him, neither as a son nor as a lover? Did the King even care when he had a songbird warming his bed every night?

Asshole.

Legolas bowed and answered in a sardonic voice, "my apology for hurting your kingly eyes with my ragged appearance, my Lord. I was busying with dispositions and make arrangements for your royal guests. If you would excuse me, I still need to finalize some guarding arrangement."

Thranduil frown at his tone yet didn't say anything further, only gave him a wave of dismissing.

Their first exchange in more than ten days, how typical.

Legolas finished some paperwork before he headed to the training yard. Today he didn't feel like practicing archery but instead prefers something more brutal, more primal to let out the pressure that had been building in his chest for the past dozen days. So he chose to combat with other warriors using a wooden edged long knife. 

He was boiled with suppressed anger and frustration that his attack was even more powerful and deadly than usual. No warrior could sustain him for more than three rounds. Legolas was annoyed even more and ordered all of them to charge at him together. 

In the frenzy of adrenaline, he overlooked Thorin halted his step when he saw the impressive battle scene.

Galion was giving him and other Dwarfs a quick tour around the allowed areas of the Halls. They did not expect to see such a splendid show.

Thorin watched Legolas fight in well-concealed awe. Apparently the Elven Prince was not just a pretty face. He was agile and lithe like a feather floating in the wind, and yet each charge and attack was precise, fierce and deadly. 

The Elven warriors swarmed him, but he sprinted and jumped, quickly assessing his surroundings and used every environment setup to his advantage. He was like a wisp of golden sunlight dancing among the other Elves elegantly and effortlessly, meanwhile sending everyone he touched to the ground.

Thorin was almost mesmerized. 

In terms of fighting style, the Prince was obviously different from the King. Thranduil was steady and powerful, more swordsman like. 

Other Dwarfs were also impressed, but most of them reluctant to give any positive appraise to the Elven King's son, so they only made some small and ambiguous noises. Only Glóin remarked, "Hmm, not bad for a scraggy little lad like him."

Galion watched Legolas in uncontainable pride, "Prince Legolas is the best warrior of the Woodland Realm, except for the King, of course."

Now all of the Elven Warriors were on the ground, moaning and struggling to stand up. Legolas stood tall in victory, yet still seemed unsatisfied.

Thorin smirked and walked toward the Prince before the Butler had a chance to dissuade him, picking up a long wooden sword on his way. Knowing his intention, the Dwarfs started to cheer and whistling loudly.

Legolas heard the noise and turned to find the Dwarf Prince marching toward him with an intense stare and a challenging smile. He raised one side of his eyebrows, holding his knife in an anticipating stand, heartbeat rising fast.

Thorin charged at him with a mighty roar, and the first time the sword and the knife clashed Legolas could feel the power surging up his arms. The Dwarf Prince was very strong, probably stronger than any warriors he knew in the Elven Realm and the only one who could have matched was his father. He knew immediately that he had to play with his agility rather than confronting with raw force. 

So the dance began. Thorin's strikes were the arts of simplicity and prudence. Each swing was like a trap guiding the opponent to his pace and rule and thus fell under his dominance, and the only way out was either death or surrender. While Legolas managed to slip out of his reach whenever he was sure that he could get him, reminding him of a slippery fish or a swift bird.  The Elven Prince tried several times to attack the other Prince's weak spots, nevertheless always met with seamless defence. His patience was running thin.

As though he could feel Legolas's annoyance, Thorin slowed his attack and switched to a more thorough defence strategy. And this, as he planned, pissed Legolas immensely. 

"Do you want to fight or to play?" Legolas taunted.

Thorin vexed, "maybe both?"

Legolas cursed something in Elvish and resumed for another set of onslaughts. And soon, when Legolas's attack became more frantic and careless, Thorin caught the chance and swung the sword to his undefended left side. Legolas raised the knife in a flurry to meet the attack, but the powerful strike broke both of their weapons. 

Thorin sprung forward, tackled Legolas to the ground, arm on his throat. He looked down into those startled eyes and smiled with satisfaction, "do you yield?"

Legolas answered defiantly, "never!"

And then the Elven Prince did something almost magical with his long legs and the lithe body, and Thorin suddenly lost his grip and was topped over. The next thing he knew, Legolas was straddling him and holding him down.

"Now who's the one should yield?" Legolas taunted with a low husky voice.

Thorin curled his mouth, pushed up his crotch slightly, "at least I like this position."

Legolas suddenly realized he was sitting right on the Dwarf's groin area, and something under the Dwarf's clothes was hardening up quickly, poking at his arse shamelessly.

The Elven Prince scrambled up with a feverish face, goggled at Thorin with disbelief and embarrassment, "how dare you!"

"My apology. It was beyond my control." Thorin's tone was sincere, but his eyes were glittering with amusement. 

As Legolas was about to rebuke, Galion approached them, so he had to give up the topic. He'd rather die than let anyone knew what just happened...

"Prince Legolas, Prince Thorin, the dinner for the guests is ready."

Thorin turned to Legolas, "will you join us?"

Legolas hesitated for a brief second and asked Galion, "is the King joining?" 

"I'm afraid the King has other matters to attend to at this moment."

"Then I shall assume the role of host," Legolas answered with dignity, "though I will have to refresh myself first, please don't feel the need to wait for me."

"Good things always worth to wait for." Thorin bowed slightly before leaving with his companions, who were still jeering about how Thorin gave "the pointy princess" a real lesson and entirely omitting the part when Legolas overpowered the Dwarf Prince.

When Legolas washed away the dirt and sweat from the training yard fight and reached the Dining Hall, most of the Dwarfs had already started to eat and singing and...dancing?

Legolas watched in horror as the Dwarfs threw food at each other and spilling the King's exquisite wines everywhere. They actually climbed on the table and just...dance.

His father was going to be FURIOUS. Legolas couldn't contain a smirk at that thought.

Their singing voice was so loud and sonorous that Feandir's lute and voice was utterly overwhelmed. The bard looked frustrated enough that Legolas actually felt a trifle of satisfaction. 

Thorin, who also changed into a clean dark tunic, laughed and drank with everyone but hadn't touched his food.

Legolas walked over to the front of the table, dodged several flying pieces of bread on his way, and sat next to Thorin. The latter examined him undisguised with a note of admiration.

"Green suits you," Thorin remarked.

Legolas cleared his throat, "thank you?"

Servants quickly filled Legolas's goblet and brought over his plate. The Prince ate quietly for a while, watching the dancing Dwarfs in a curious gaze.

"So, trouble with your father?"

Legolas startled, head snapped toward Thorin.

"No. Why?"

"You are avoiding him, aren't you?" Thorin drank from his goblet.

How the hell did he know?

"I did no such thing."

Thorin was obviously not convinced but didn't press the matter, "if you say so."

"Excused me but what gave you that impression?"

"Just a hunch. You were angry, and I guess if Thranduil had decided to come to the dinner, you'd find an excuse to decline my invitation." 

"You should not address the King by name."

"He is not my King." Thorin picked up a grape and popped it into his mouth.

Legolas paused a few seconds and asked, "did you and my father have a history?"

Thorin grunted bitterly, "haven't you heard? A damn dragon drove us out of Erebor, and your father turned his back on us."

"But why would you still come to ask for his help? Your grandfather should have known his answer." 

Thorin gulped down all the wine in his cup, face overcast with clouds of sorrow. 

"I came on my own accord." He muttered, "my grandfather would rather die in Azog's hand than seeking for your father's help. But we need alliances and all the helps we can get. We have waned severely these years. And a blood soaking battle will not improve anything. "

Legolas was surprised by Thorin's candour, and he could hardly imagine the pain of losing your homeland and heirlooms, losing your identities and struggling in poverty. He could only glimpse a trace of that hollow feeling by watching his own forest tarnished by dark magic, but it was far from what Thorin had witnessed.

No wonder Thror was desperate to reclaim their ancient Kingdom from the Orcs. They needed a home after so many years of wandering.

Thorin could read the tenderness and sympathy in Legolas's eyes, and his voice was softer too, "you are unlike your father."

"I thought I 'resemble him very much.'"

"Only on the appearance aspect. You have a warmer heart."

Legolas sipped the wine, sighed lightly, "he was not always like this. I remembered when I was very young, he was...caring. My nana's pass away changed him profoundly."

"Must have been hard to grow up with such a cold father."

Legolas chuckled bitterly, "It was not that bad. I heard Dwarfs are harsher to their offsprings? "

"My father could be demanding from time to time, but I always know he loves me deeply."

"That must be feeling good," Legolas muttered.

Thorin observed him quietly, sensing a hidden yet deep sadness buried beneath the Elven Prince's prudent demeanour. He wondered when Thranduil was younger, when he was at Legolas's age, did he has a similar gentle heart? If so, how many adversities and losses could have changed him so much, made his heart stone cold,  unable to love anyone, not even his own son.

Thorin's heart ached for the Elven Prince, even though they had just met.

Notes:

Another super busy week, but I still managed to finish one chapter :D. Thank you all for your kudos and comments, they really encourage me a lot! <3

Chapter 12

Summary:

Legolas's little revenge

Thranduil's held a council meeting with Thorin and his companions in the Great Hall, and it was the most strained and antagonistic meeting Legolas had ever attended. If not halted by both side's counsellors' finesse mediating skills, the stately hall might as well be turned into a nasty gang battlefield.

Dwarfs were barking insultings and taunts while the usually personable and refined Elven nobles throwing sneers and gibes. Poor Galion was trying his best to stir this sinking ship of negotiation, but it was unavailing.

"Enough!" Thranduil spoke eventually, voice dark and resonating. All other uproars ceased.

Legolas, who hadn't participated in the shouting match, exhaled with relief. This unproductive farce had given him a headache and he was at the brink of taking over the negotiation should his father decided not to utter a damn word. 

Thranduil's long finger tabbed the oak table surface lightly, body leaned back in an idle position, yet his gaze was sharp as a knife, "Prince Thorin, I understand your plight and admire your courage to come to me asking for help, but I still don't see what is it for me to gain in this war, except for sending my people to gloomy underground to fight a battle that was not ours, and to die for nothing."

"Because you are already in this. After Azog has done with us who do you think is the next target? As a matter of fact, he had already tired, didn't he? How many times has he sent his pawns to disturb your forest? How many Elven soldiers have been slain by those filthy creatures? "Thorin answered with a deep calm voice.

"Orcs would not dare to touch Elven lands. "

"Perhaps not Lothlorien, not Imladris, because Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel each has a ring of power. But you, the mighty King with the vast land of Greenwood, has none. "He paused for a second and then grinned sarcastically, "oh, wait, it is not Greenwood anymore. What do people call this place nowadays again? Right, MIRKWOOD."

All the present nobles' and counsellors' faces were paled with anger, while the Dwarfs fueled the tension with jeers and laughter. 

Fury burned bright in the King's icy irises, yet he sneered in contempt, "I do not need to hide behind some metal rings forged by the deceased Dark Lord. My people are strong, my army is powerful, and my Kingdom is safe. I have no need to waste all of this just for some unlikely cause, especially not for reclaiming Moria." 

"If this is about payment, there are countless treasures buried under the ancient Kingdom. It is entirely negotiable."

"It is not about payment, for I do not give a damn of Dwarf treasure!" Thranduil rose slowly and intimidatingly. He leaned forward, his shadow elongated as if engulfing every Dwarf within the darkness, "There is a dark evil residing under the Misty Mountain, an ancient nightmare. A Balrog. Only fools will want to descend into that cursed place!"

The word "Balrog" compelled silence among the crowd. Legolas had only heard of the name mentioned in various history books. They were once the purest and mighty beings who assisted Valar to create and protect Arda. They were once Maiar, and yet were seduced and tarnished by Morgoth's corrosive words and magics. Slowly, their beautiful visage twisted and deformed into terrifying and loathsome forms, and their body burning perpetually. 

During Gondolin's ancient tragic war, two Balrogs were slain by the bravest Elven heroes, accompanied by grave costs. Anywhere the creatures' names showed up, blood and death would follow. It was said that one Balrog could annihilate an army.

Thorin's voice was not as firm as before, "It was but a rumour."

"And just how did your ancestors lost Moria in the first place?" Thranduil sensed the weakness of his opponent and attacked even more ruthlessly, "A King, driven by his lust for Mithril, dug too deep into the abyss and woke the sleeping demon. They were forced to flee from their homeland. Sounds familiar?" 

Now it was the Dwarfs' turn to fell in silent and unavailing anger. 

Just when Thranduil was about to adjourn the meeting with a temporary victory, Legolas abruptly spoke, "forgive me, my Lord, but I am afraid Azog is a more significant threat than we anticipated."

Thranduil's gaze snapped to him, while the Dwarfs also looking at him in bewilderment. 

Thorin's eyes dilated in astonishment.

Who would have thought the Elven Prince would speak for Dwarfs.

Legolas continued, "As many of you know, Orcs have been trespassing our borders for the past couple of centuries, and it concurrents with the spreading of the infections from the south. I have procured information that Azog has a connection with the Necromancer of Dol Guldur, and he also plays a role in corrupting our land."

His word stirred up turmoil among the nobles and counsellors. A Sindar  Lord inquired immediately, "what is the source of this information?"

Just as Legolas was about to elaborate, Thranduil stormed, "that's enough! We will continue the meeting tomorrow. Legolas, a word."

So and so the meeting was forced to a standstill. Legolas met Thorin's sight for a brief second, then followed Thranduil to his private study.

Stay calm...Legolas told himself silently. 

Once the door was locked, the King's voice thundered with rage, "what lie did the Dwarf tell you?"

Legolas blinked, "what? We barely met yesterday!"

Thranduil looming over Legolas, the colossal field of intimidating emitting from the older Elf was suffocating him without even touching a single hair on his head. The Kingly glare born the weight of a mountain, crushing his nerve piece by piece.

Legolas shivered, yet not only from fear.

The gaze was so dense that it almost felt like physical touch on his skin...

"One day, and that's enough for you to forget your place, your people and your King! Are you out of your mind? Disclosing confidential information without consulting me?! "

"It is a stately matter, and everyone has the right to understand the threat we are facing! You have seen it with your own eyes! For Valar sake why can't you just accept the possibility?"

" It is not for you to decide!"

"But I am the Prince of this land, and I will do everything I can to protect it!"

"Protect? Sending our people to reclaim a Dwarf's homeland is 'protecting our land'?"

"If not sending our soldiers at least we can provide weapons and armours. It is in our best interest to help them defeat that Goblin before he destroying us piece by piece. Azog has been sent his troops to carve those obviously dark magic-related sigils. Do you think he will just stop? "

"Yes, because he will be busying dealing with the Dwarfs!"

"You are impossible!" Legolas yelled in frustration, "we are not separate from the whole world! There is something darker and powerful lurking in the southern shadows and you know it! You have seen it, have felt it, but you dare not to believe it. Is it because then it means Grandfather and our people died for nothing and you can't accept it? Or is it because you are too coward to acknowledge the..."

He couldn't finish the sentence because Thranduil suddenly held his chin with a steal-like hand and pinned him on the hard stone wall with a big thump. The clashing force drove the breath out of Legolas's chest, and he felt like the wall behind him was shaking.

Thranduil was so close, his face overcast by alarming darkness that was imposing and terrifying. His shadow inundated the smaller Prince like a bottomless swamp. The hot breath sizzled with repressed fury and something more...

Legolas paralyzed under his weight, eyes wide open. He was terrified of the King's sudden outburst, and yet a morbid sense of expectant and anticipation was boiling in his blood vessels, burning up his skin.

Thranduil rarely punished him physically, not even when he was a misbehaving, tantrums throwing Elfling. Valar knows how many times Legolas did what he did just to provoke some reactions from his distant father yet failed. But now, he was trembling with a twisted excitement.

But Thranduil released him immediately as if his hand was burnt from touching him. The soul shaken fury transmuted into a shocking look as if he couldn't comprehend what he had done. As if touching Legolas was the most unbearble thing.

It hurt worse than being pinned to the wall.

"So this is your strategy now? Silencing me whenever I make you 'uncomfortable'?"Legolas attacked with a rough voice.

"You are not well. We both aren't." Thranduil murmured, voice not as firm as usual. He turned away from Legolas to hide his countenance, "We are still under the spell's influence, for you have been acting erratic, and I lost my temper. "

"Spell?"Legolas laughed sarcastically, though his voice broke at the last syllable, "blaming everything on the spell, and the rest will be fine, isn't it?"

There was a short-lived silence.

"You shall not attend tomorrow's meeting. Now leave." Thranduil ordered, resumed his distant mien.

Legolas stared after the King for a long time, but Thranduil refused to turn and look at him, so he did not see the heartbreaking despair growing in the Prince's blue eyes.

And Legolas left.

...............

Thorin did not see Legolas the second day and the day after. The Prince did not attend the meeting and didn't show up at the dining hall. 

Without Legolas's unexpected support the meeting went nowhere. Thranduil refused to listen to sense, and Thorin was getting more and more frustrated. 

"You own us." Thorin stood up slowly, confronting the Elven King with a determined and yet forlorn stance, "Thranduil, I want you to remember that we used to be allies. We have fought together and watched each other's back. But you abandoned us. "

Thranduil held his gaze, "it was not me who broke the alliance first. Your father had become arrogant and greedy. He refused to listen to my advice, insulted me and grafted our heirloom. Despite all of this, I still came to your aid, but it was too late, and nothing could have changed it."

"Is this what you have been telling yourselves all these years? That nothing could have been done while you watching my homeland burn?"

"I am a King. My people always come first." Thranduil answered sternly, "no elven blood shall be spilled in vain. Not anymore."

Thorin stormed out of the Great Hall, refused to be followed by his companions. 

It was already late, yet he did not want to go to the dining hall nor return to his chamber, so he wandered along the endless hallways, following the pensive moonlight reflected multiple times by the skillfully implanted mirrors. 

He had imagined many times what would the Elven King's Palace looks like when he was younger and more naive. Now he was actually walking in it, yet could not find the joy and astonishment he had envisioned many, many years ago.

The whole Palace was chiselled into the deep mountain rocks, an imposing work done by his ancestors, yet retained Elven delicacy and sophistication. A perfect replication of the ancient Elven Kingdom Doriath. The design might have been based on the deceased Elven King Oropher's memory of his lost home in Doriath, an attempt to rebuild the disgraced glory of Sindar Elves. 

Did Thranduil still remember what the legendary Doriath looked like? Were there really thousands of gigantic caves in the lost Elven Kindom? 

Only then did he realize how ancient Thuranduil was, and how insignificant a dwarf or a human's life to an immortal Elf.

He came upon an open terrace, where the cool night air flushed in and lifted the sheer curtains like dancing ghosts. It was an expanded platform extended out of the cave system, overlooking the sprawling sea of canopies. Dark velvet sky looming over the timeworn forest land, diamond-like stars spersing radiance onto a longly figure generously.

The starlight trickling from the Elf's platinum blond hair like liquid silver, pale skin glowing like a dream against all the solid darkness.

For a moment Thorin wasn't sure if it was the King or the Prince, but then he realized the figure was smaller in build.

"Where have you been?" Asked Torin.

The Elf, who was sitting on the edge of the thick stone railing, answered without looking back, "busy."

"Hmm, busy for what?" Thorin approached leisurely, leaned on the side of the Prince.

Legolas was holding a bottle of wine. He drank from it. Blood-like liquid spilled from his lip corner and crawled tortuously across the spotless jaw and neck, disappearing into the mystique neckband.

"Trivial things." Answered Legolas perfunctorily. 

"Did I get you in trouble?"

"How so?"

"You spoke for us at the meeting. I imagine your father was not happy about it."

"He wasn't. Which was not surprising."The Prince snorted, passing the wine bottle to Thorin.

Thorin had long heard about the acclaimed Mirkwood wine, and the taste did not disappoint. The rich and aromatic flavour skimmed through his tongue and left an inexhaustible floral aftertaste. Yet the liquid was potent. The moment it reached his stomach, a pleasant warmth started spreading through his body.

"It's nice."

"Of course. Our people brew the best wine in Arda." Said the proud Prince. 

Thorin noticed there was more than one bottle sitting on the ground. It seems like the Prince planned to get himself drunk.

"Tough day?"Thorin raised an eyebrow, eyes darting toward an already empty bottle.

Legolas paused for a while, "it helps me sleep. "

The Dwarf heard about Elves' high alcohol tolerance, but seeing a slender and refined Elf like Legolas drinking so much without even the slightest blushing was astounding.

They drank together in silence. After a while, the comfortable tipsiness started to set in. Thorin looked out to the far northeast, the direction of the Lonely Mountain.

Legolas asked quietly, "do you miss it? "

"Every moment."

"If I were you, I would have hated my father's gut. I didn't understand why you have come to us to torture yourself for more rejection from him. But the more I think about it, the more it starts to make sense now."

"I told you why. We need allies."

"Your kins will help you. Unlike us Elves, you Dwarfs have a tighter kinship. No, this is not the only reason you chose to come." Legolas gazed upon him, eyes dark and pensive, "You loved my father, maybe still do. You want to see him one more time before you go to a deadly war with Azog."

Thorin was speechless, gawking at the Prince like a revealed prey. 

Legolas smiled victoriously, knowing that he was right, "don't worry, I will not disclose your secrete to another soul without your permission."

There was no point to deny, so Thorin didn't, "how did you find out?"

"You have the look every time you see him."

"The look?"

It takes a heart tormented by lovesickness to understand another, but Legolas could not say it, for his secrete was much darker, much more unspeakable and unthinkable.

Legolas changed the topic, "I wonder how did you fall for him? You have never been to our land; I would have seen you. "

Thorin gulped down half bottle of the wine and then recounted the story.

"We fought against Orcs once, a clan led by an Orc named Crugzu. His pawns depredated both our people and your villages. Your father agreed to eradicate those pests with us."

Legolas nodded, "yes, I remember. It was 26 years ago. Father forbade me to partake in the battle, so I stayed behind in his place."

"I was very young, 21 years old. And the first time I saw your father riding on the giant elk, practically glowing under the sun. I was unable to look away and forgot how to speak, just stood there like a moron. I bet your father thought I was an imbecile."

Legolas laughed, imagining a much more green and sentimental Thorin completely mesmerized by Thranduil's breathtaking beauty, "Don't blame yourself. He does that to people."

"The battle didn't last long, only about three months. He saved my life, and I think I also saved his two times. I thought we were friends by the end of it, but I know he never really pay much attention to me. And the next time he came to Erebor for the White Gem, that was a disaster."

"Yeah, he was really pissed off when he came back."

"The necklace was broken, and we recast it using the purest Mithrill and repolished the gems to make them glow like stars. But my grandfather was enchanted by it, unwillingly to let it go, so he raised the price and insulted your father. I should have said something."

"It was a gift to my mother. She never had a chance to wear it before she died. I never knew it's existence until he sent it to you for the recasting."

Thorin paused for a while, stunned, and then muttered, "sorry."

"I can barely remember what the colour of her hair was." Legolas explained, "she died when I was very young. "

"If my grandfather did not break our friendship with your father over the gem, maybe he would not have abandoned us." Crimson colour submerged the Dwarf's face as the wine soaked his blood.

"No, he would still have done it." Legolas's voice tinted with a coldness that Thorin could not understand, "Nothing is more important than his subjects. Not even his own son."

Thorin drank again.

"Don't you want to...pay him back?"

"What?"Thorin almost choked, thought he drank too much and heard it wrong.

Legolas stared at him intensely, "for all these years suffering. He could have helped you, could have provided shelter for your people. But he left you to perish. And even now, after so many years, he still refuses to help you despite that you have saved his life."

Thorin frowned, "what are you trying to do?"

Legolas jumped off the railing, tilted his head in a specific direction, "come, I have an idea."

The Prince turned without looking back as if daring Thorin to follow. Thorin finished his bottle in one big gulp and trotted after Legolas, trying his best not to lose the elusive lithe figure in the labyrinth-like dark halls.

Legolas stopped in front of a pair of looming oak doors that engraved intertwined vines and elk horns. He turned and gave Thorin a mischief grin and pushed them open.

One look at the room and Thorin already know who it belonged to.

"Are you mad?!" Thorin snapped his head around to ensure there was no guard, "This is your father's chamber!"

"Don't worry, he will not be back for a long time."Legolas spoke in a tone of spite, "I saw him went to Feandir's room."

"Feandir?"

"His new songbird. The bard entertained you during the dinners." Legolas answered dismissively while ushered him in and closed the doors. 

Thorin stood in the middle of the room like a bewildered intruder. He had never felt so out of place in his whole life.

So...this was where Thranduil slept...

His sight fell on the humongous bed naturally. It was covered by dark red velvet quilt, vines embellished with berries twined around the bed poles, a heavy and ornamented canopy casting solid shadows. 

A smell of musk and oak drifting in the air, rich and thick like dripping blood. Thorin started to feel the wine burning in his vein. 

Legolas leaned on one of the bed poles sluggishly, eyes blazing with fiery defiance. He looked so delicate and beautiful, like a strayed moonlight beaming in the heavy darkroom. And yet, his smile carried the intoxicating note of allure. A flower of sinful pleasure blooming on an angelic facade.

Thorin swallowed, mouth dry as hell, "what are we doing in here?"

Legolas popped several buttons open on his tunic, asked blatantly, "do you want to have sex with me?"

Thorin dumbfounded, scrambling to find the correct word, "you mean...here?"

"Yes, here. Degrading his son on his bed." Legolas smirked, "you can even pretend I am him, do whatever you want to me. After all, I resemble him in appearance, don't I?"

Chapter 13

Summary:

The revenge backfired

Thorin's eyes darkened as he listening to Legolas's seductive words. 

"You are crazy." Though the Dwarf Prince's husky voice betrayed his failure in resisting the temptation.

Legolas sat on the bed, slowly untied his belt and unbuttoning his tunic, "what are you afraid of? He had made it very clear that he won't help. What more could you lose?"

"He will kill me if he finds out."

"No, he won't. Unless he wants a war with Dwarfs, which means Elves will die for an unnecessary cause. He won't have that."

"But why? What can you gain from this?" Thorin questioned curiously and amusingly while approaching the bed, "I'm sure it's not that you have a crush on me."

"Oh don't flatter yourself." Legolas snorted, "this is only for fun. Being a Prince could be a tedious job."

And for vindicatory purpose on his aloof father, who was probably fucking Feandir at this very moment, of course. But Legolas could hardly mention this, couldn't he?

Thorin also unbuckled his belt, standing in front of the sitting Prince with a predatory lust burning in his ever-so-righteous eyes, tone flirtatious, "then it is my pleasure to entertain Your Highness, how do you want me?"

"I want you to spend yourself inside me, make a complete mess of this bed. The messier, the better." Legolas purred, licking his lips intentionally, "and I like it rough. If tomorrow I can walk normally, then you have failed."

Thorin's cock was stone hard and moistened with pre-come just by listening to the Elven Prince talk oh so dirty. He kicked Legolas's legs open, set himself in the middle, and then slid his hand into the opened tunic, "I will do my best not to disappoint Your Highness."

The skin under his fingertip was as smooth and tender as he imagined, as if it belonged to a delicate maiden (human or elf maiden in this case) rather than a warrior. He pinched the small nipple on the left side, driven a delicious startled noise out of the parted lips.

Thorin grabbed both sides of the collar and thoroughly tore the tunic open, buttons flying in all directions like spilling gems. The flawless body revealed, blushing with the heat of wine and desire. The Eleven Prince looked up at him from under his long eyelashes, suddenly appeared to be submissive and vulnerable, waiting for whatever Thorin would bestow on him in a moment. And that made the Dwarf's cock twitched. 

He opened the front of his breeches and let the stocky looking cock popped out, almost hitting on the Elf's face. 

Legolas stared at it in astonishment, for this was the first time he had ever seen a Dwarf's cock. It was not as long as Thranduil's, but greater in diameter, swollen angrily at him from eroticism. 

Legolas touched it tentatively with childish curiosity and excitement. He grabbed it, feeling the strong pulse and burning heat, and then put it into his mouth without a second thought.

Thorin moaned uncontrollably. His hand fell on Legolas's head, stroking his long, lustre hair. It was evident that the Elven Prince had previous experience of sucking cocks. His tongue was so eager and supple it scoured every concaved crease and folds, and he sipped the head like it was candy. The complex heavenly sensation engulfed Thorin and diminishing his self-control. He grabbed the Elven Prince's hair and shoved his dick deeper into his throat.

Legolas choked a little but quickly regain his balance. He relaxed his throat and took it all in, watering eyes looking up to meet Thorin's glazed pupils as if an enthusiastic apprentice asking his master if he was doing a good job.

The sight was too lascivious and erotic that Thorin had to pull out from the mouth before he spent too fast. He pushed the Prince down on the dark velvet cover and striped the breeches from those long slender legs. And now Legolas was utterly naked like a silver-scaled fish lying on the sea of darkness, blonde hair sprawling like swinging kelps. His cock was also standing tall and in impatience.

"Turn around." Instructed Thorin.

Legolas did what he was told and raised his arse high in the air. His flexible and narrow waist bent like a strained bow. Thorin's hand traced his spine, inducing a shiver through the Elf's body. The hands roughed by years of wielding swords and axes and hard labours rubbed the two plumped cheeks unscrupulously. The sensual tactility made them both breathed heavily. 

"Where is the oil?"

"Try the night table." the Elven Prince answered hastily. How would he know? He had never spent a night in this room before...

Thorin shuffled through the neatly arranged items in the drawer irritably and found one small bottle with liquid of erotogenic aroma. This had to do.

He coated his two fingers with the oil and parted Legolas's cheeks, revealing the delicately closed entrance, squirming in anticipation. No longer able to wait, Thorin probed an index finger in, watching the digits sinking into the beautiful pink flesh.

"Ahhhh..."Legolas moaned loudly, swaying his hips slightly like a cat in heat. The tunnel was so hot and tight and moist, sucking his finger deeper hungrily. Thorin was amazed by how pretty and voracious it was and started to thrust his finger back and forth.

Legolas writhed under the Dwarf's muscular body and letting out cute incessant noises. Soon the fingers number increased, and the hole was soft and open. The Elven Prince turned his head over his shoulder, looking at Thorin with a flushed face and taunted in chagrin, "just put your damn prick into my ass already! It's not my first time you know!"

"So demanding," Thorin smirked but took time to remove all of his own clothes, satisfied to see the frustration on the Elf's face. And then, without further warning, he shoved his thick cock all the way down to the wanton hole.

Legolas yelled in surprise, but soon the startled sound melted into a whimper of overwhelming satisfaction. The Dwarf's cock filled him up entirely, stretching him up so wide that almost breaking him. The stinging pain fired up all of his sensations. Thorin pulled all the way out and then slammed back in with great force, forced the Elven Prince to cry out helplessly, body thrust forward by the impact.

"Satisfied?" a cocky smile following with relentless onslaught.

Legolas had no time to speak. The slamming cock repeatedly hit the sensitive point in his body, and he'd almost scream. He adjusted his hips to welcome more invading, open himself up shamelessly. The hot wet sound of flesh clashing on flesh echoed in the dimly lited room, the smell of sex brewing up with the musk scent.

Without even touching the cock, Legolas ejaculated with a high pitched cry. His cum stained the now crumpled velvet sheet. His body glistening with perspiration.

Thorin hadn't stopped yet. He drove into the beautiful body, again and again, devour him completely. And then, he suddenly pulled out, causing Legolas to yelp for the sudden emptiness. He turned Legolas to the side, lifted one long leg and then entered the Prince again from the side. 

The new position evoked more complex sensations, and Legolas was practically weeping now. The pleasure hadn't come down for a moment, and he shivered under the Dwarf's relentless force.

And yet, this was just the beginning.

Legolas did not anticipate the monstrous stamina of Dwarfs. After five different poses and two more orgasms, Thorin was still going, rough and fast. Now he was riding the Dwarf, yet he was already so spent that Thorin had to lift him up and down with the strong arms. His face was a mess of uncontrollable tears and burning crimson. 

After the fourth culmination, Legolas couldn't help but plead miserably, "please..."

Finally, Thorin let out a deep roar and came hard deep into Legolas. His semen gushed out in multiple fluxes and filled up the narrow tunnel. The milky white liquid spilled out of the entrance, trickling onto the already ruined sheet. 

As Legolas collapsing on to Thorin, the Dwarf's cock slipped out of his hole, and more cum rushed out, forming a small puddle between his legs.

They held each other for a while, panting heavily, unable to talk, absolutely exhausted. 

"How did I do?" Thorin stroked the Elf's hair and asked amusingly.

Legolas murmured weakly, "I can't feel my legs..."

Thorin laughed, "you are the best lay I had in...maybe my whole life. Very impressive little Prince."

"There is nothing about me that's 'little.'" Legolas mustered up the little strength he had, propped himself up, turn over on his back, noticing his father's bedsheets were damp with their cum and sweat,  thoroughly destroyed. He laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just impressed by your work. "

"We Dwarf always deliver." Thorin winked playfully.

Just then, Legolas's sharp ear picked up approaching footsteps. He sat up in alertness, though face twisted by the soreness exploding at his backside. 

"What's up?" Thorn asked hushedly. 

"Someone is coming. You have to leave now!"

No time to dwell. Thorin jump out of bed in the blink of an eye and grabbed his clothing, "if I go out now he will see me!"

"The Window!" Legolas pointed urgently, "there is a garden down there. You can avoid the guards and return to your room unnoticed!"

The footsteps were getting closer. Thorin only had time to put on his pants and then had to climb over the window. He looked back at Legolas before he left, "will you be ok?"

"I will be fine! Now go!"

As the window was closed, the door of the bedroom was opened. 

Thranduil heard a ruffling sound came from his chamber before he even entered. He'd thought it was some foolish servant trying to steal something from his room, but he did not expect to see Legolas sitting on his bed naked, body covered by hickeys and finger bruises, thigh stained by filth. 

The room smelled like sex, a lot of sex. And the bed...It was a nightmare.

For a long moment, the King stared at his son speechlessly, all those marks on the fair skin left by some unknow...creature burnt his eyes.

He could smell it in the air. It was not an Elf that was with his son.

"What is this?" Thranduil's voice was quiet and flat, yet his gaze was brewing a storm.

Legolas didn't make any attempt to cover himself. He looked back at his father with defiance, "isn't it obvious?"

Thranduil closed the door behind him, sauntered around the bed, gaze pierced Legolas in place. Finally, he stopped in front of the bed, bent to pick up something from the ground.

Legolas's breath was caught in his throat.

It was a belt. Thorin's belt.

Shit...

"A Dwarf." Thranduil muttered, as if bewildered, "you brought a Dwarf to my bed."

Legolas tried to sit up, winced during the process, and Thranduil knew why. Some lowly Dwarf fucked his son rough and hard to the extent that the Prince may not be able to walk normally for a while, in his room, on his bed.

His!

Rage boiled in the King's heart like the Mountain Doom's perpetual fire. 

He sat on the bed slowly, making Legolas jumped a bit. The King's unreadable calm face was scarier than overt anger, yet the Prince refused to back off now.

"Sorry Ada, I must have been mistaken your room for mine." 

Suddenly Thranduil grabbed Legolas's ankle and dragged him down. Legolas yelp and then found himself pinned on the nasty bed sheet by his father by wrists. Thranduil looked down at the startled face, squeezing one word out of his gritted teeth, "why?"

Legolas sneered, "because I want to be fucked. If you don't have the time to do it, then I have to find someone else! "

"A dwarf?!"

"You have no right to control who do I sleep with! You have your bed warmer. Why can't I have mine!"

"Because you are MINE!!!"

Legolas almost choked. He did not expect to hear this from Thranduil.

Thranduil now was towering over him, holding him down. His rage was no longer containable—a dark force emitting from his body, almost like black tendrils spreading to the whole room.

The King looked...different and dangerous.

Legolas swallowed, unsure what was going on.

"You let a dwarf fuck you in my bed for what? Pissing me off?"Contracting to his building anger, the King's voice was almost soft, whisper alike, "make me angry, so I will lose my temper and discipline you. Is that what you want? "

As he was speaking, one of his hands lowered, slipped between the Prince's legs and...shoved a finger up into the still wet, swollen and sore entrance.

Legolas cried out, writhing under him, yet made no attempt to break free. On the contrary, he kept provoking the King, "Or maybe I just like to bed Dwarfs. They are way better than you. They can fuck me for hours nonstop, and I loved every second of it! "

For a brief moment, Legolas thought Thranduil might going to kill him. 

But then, the King released him and sneered coldly, "you thought if I am angry enough, I will bed you one more time, didn't you? How pathetic."

Legolas felt like a jab in this heart, face turned ashen pale.

"I will not touch something spoiled by Dwarfs. Not ever." Thranduil cleaned his finger on the already ruined sheet, raised elegantly. 

"Stay here if you want. I will go back to Feandir's chamber tonight."

The King left, and Legolas was all alone, again.

He numbly stared into emptiness for a long long moment, slowly held himself, curled into a ball, and broke into uncontrollable sobs eventually.

Notes:

Leggy needs a big hug, guess we will try to get another lover to do the job~

Chapter 14

Summary:

Legolas discovered an alarming secret.

Thorin was fidgety throughout the council meeting the next day. Thranduil was sitting on the other end of the long table with an unreadable expression, neither angry nor vengeful.

Legolas was not there again.

What happened yesterday after he left the room through the window? Was it Thranduil or just some guards? Thorin wasn't able to sleep well last night, worrying about Legolas, fearing about the King's fury upon them.

Why did he comply...He could have said no to that wayward Prince...

Why he always falls for the sweet traps set by these luring creatures...This pair...the father and the son, they are like poppies, beautiful yet poisonous.

He should have known better...

Maybe nothing happened? After all Legolas is his son, and degrading your parent's bedroom was not such a big deal, right?

"I have reconsidered your proposal, and though I will not deploy my army for your war, I have a gift for you that may help you greatly, "Thranduil spoke slowly and calmly, sight passing over each Dwarf's face as if searching for something.

Everyone was surprised by the King's changed attitude, especially Thorin.

Thranduil waved his hand, and several guards brought in a giant Orc who was bonded with several secure chains and a muzzle on his mouth. The Orc stilled managed to bark out horrible noises and was barely controlled by the struggling guards with chains and spears.

"We captured him about a months ago. His name is Bolg, Azog's only son." Thranduil announced.

A murmur buzzed through the council.

Thorin looked at the Orc's hateful eyes, thoughts spinning.

This was indeed a great gift, for even if Azog didn't give a damn about his son's life, Bolg could still provide them with much useful and insightful information, like Moria's roadmap and how many Orcs were residing in there. The only problem would be his decisiveness, yet all liers would break under enough torture and interrogation.

"Apart from that, I will supply you some of our weapons and armours. I believe these will be sufficient for your purpose."

Thorin stared at Thranduil with astonished and grateful eyes. He did not expect this to happen, "I thank you, my lord, for your generosity."

Thranduil looked at him coldly, rising to close the meeting, "good. So the matter is settled."

The Dwarfs departed the next day. Before mounted on the pony, Thorin bade his farewell to Thranduil. His sight darted to the noble crowd to find Legolas, yet disappointed.

"Ah, before you go, I should return this to you." Thranduil sneered, handing him a long shaped object wrapped in a familiar dark red velvet.

Thorin swallowed, accepted it tentatively, opened a corner and saw his lost belt staring back at him.

A cold shiver ran through his body.

"Never, come, back," whispered Thranduil in a venom-dripping tone. If gaze could kill, Thorin would have been shredded into a thousand pieces.

So the King knew it was him after all.

Thorin didn't dare to say more. He mounted on the pony and fleet in dismay.

……………………………………………………

Legolas watched the Dwarfs leaving from a hidden window facing the King's Halls's entrance. The air surrounding him was damp and cold, causing him shivered a little, face devoid of colour.

Everyone will leave eventually.

"I will never touch something spoiled by Dwarfs. Not ever." Thranduil's callous words still echoing in his mind, making him feel dirty and pathetic.

Maybe that was why his father refused to love him, that he was not worthy of love from anyone.

He was pathic and filthy, and if not even his own parent could love him, how could anyone else?

He should have given up, shouldn't have wanted more. If a loveless life was his destiny, then he might as well accept it and try to survive.

He surrendered.

Legolas turned away, wandered through the hallways without paying much attention to his surroundings. If a servant or a guard greeted him, he would return a nod or empty smile, polite yet soulless.

He went about his day, fulfilling his princely duties. He tried to shut his feelings down for anything, thinking himself nothing more than the title.

He trained the newly joined forced soldiers, barking orders and instructions with authority and dignity. He reviewed all the reports from every outpost and watchtowers and replied to every trivial diplomatic letter that his father did not have time to deal with. And he trained himself harder and harder to the extent that even his combat teacher forced him to take a break.

At night times, he hid in the Library, occupying himself with ancient tales and forgotten books, eyes fell on those blurred, faded writings yet not really seeing anything.

"Your Highness, I didn't expect to see you here this late."

Legolas was too indulged in his thoughts that he didn't hear footsteps approaching, and thus failed to escape before Feandir noticed his quiet presence.

The bard held many antiquated scores, beaming at him as if he was happy to see him.

Legolas had no strength to maintain his hostility, so he just nodded, raised the book in his hand a little to notify the other party that he was focusing on reading and not in a mood for talking.

Feandir sat next to him nonetheless, dropping all the dusty scores on the table.

Legolas fanned away the dust with his hand in annoyance, "excuse you!"

"My apology." Feandir smiled meekly, "may I ask what are you reading?"

"No you may not."

"Oh..."

Legolas sighed, cursing himself for being so bitter, "it's a book about different herbs in the first age. Many of them have extincted."

"Do you like herbalism?"

"I don't know much about healing or herbalism. It's just for passing the time."

Feandir looked surprised, "why? I imagined as the Prince you can have many other interesting things to do at night?"

Legolas snorted, "like what?"

"Like enjoying someone's company?"

Legolas turned a page, didn't answer.

"You fascinate me, Your Highness." Feandir gazed at him meaningfully. The smile was transmuting from genial to interest.

Legolas shifted on his chair with a bit of uneasiness, "what do you mean?"

"As a bard, I have travelled many lands and have seen many Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses. Yet I have never seen one so solitude like you."

"Solitude?" Legolas chuckled amusingly, "Oh I assure you I am not."

"I have stayed in the Woodland Realm for more than three months now and have never seen you show any interest to any maiden or warriors. Except for the handsome Lorin March Warden and the Dwarf Prince maybe."

Legolas startled.

He knew about Thorin?!

Did Ada tell him? Then Ada knew it was Thorin that night?

A foreboding feeling rising to his chest, and his expression tightened with anger and fear.

"You should watch who you are addressing!"

"Sorry for my bluntness." Feandir bowed his head, but his gaze was still locking on the Prince's alarmed face.

"How did you know about the Dwarf Prince?" Legolas grasped the bard's wrist in a tight grip, asking in a threatening manner.

"I didn't mean to pry. I just happened to saw you drinking with him on the terrace. Did I misunderstand your relation with him?"

"Did you tell anyone else?"

"That was not for me to tell."

"Not even my father?"

"Not even the King." Feandir smiled ever so harmless.

Legolas relaxed a little, "do not speak of this matter again."

"As you wish."

Legolas regained his composure, released the bard's wrist and muttered, "I'm sorry for overreacting. "

And yet Feandir was neither offended nor afraid. He quickly put his hand over Legolas's in a comforting mannerism, yet with a bit more firmness.

"I wish to know you, to understand you more, Prince Legolas. Though I have noticed that you don't like me much. I have been contemplating when did I offend you."

"You did not offend me. You are here for my father anyway so don't mind me." Legolas attempted to remove his hand from under the bard's yet found the holding was more insisting than he thought.

He frowned.

Feandir grinned, "I don't want you to hate me."

"I told you I am not!"

"You are lying."

"How dare you!" Legolas reprimanded loudly while throwing off the bard's hand.

There was something dark and dangerous lurking under Feandir's delicate and harmless facade. Legolas couldn't pinpoint it, but he knew something was not right.

Feandir leaning toward him, a mesmerizing haze swirling in his dark irises, "you do not like me, because you think I steal your ada from you. Because you are afraid that he loves me more than you. You resent me for getting what you have always desired."

Legolas was dumbstruck, unsure if he heard all of the words right.

What the actual fuck?

Furthermore, Feandir extended a hand to touch Legolas's cheek, his skin cold as a snake, "I am not your enemy. In fact, I may be able to help you. A beautiful thing like you should not be so sad. It aches my heart to see you like this."

Legolas slapped his hand away and stood abruptly, gawking him in horror, "what are you talking about! You are out of your mind!"

There was something wrong with this elf, something dark and evil within him...His touch, gaze, and tone made Legolas cringe, like a sticky and invisible spider web trapping him from every direction.

Did Ada know this? Or was he deceived by Feandir's innocent look?

Feandir stood up slowly and elegantly with a predatory smirk, "you can't resist me, nor my master for long. Just like you cannot resist your desire."

"Your...master?" Legolas stepped back, alarmed.

"I can make it better or worse." Feandir's voice was so soft and sweet like talking to a little child, "your choice, my Prince."

"I will tell the King what you've said! I will show him your true face!"

"He won't believe you. He will only hate you more." The bard answered matter-of-factly.

And the damn perpetual smile!

Although Legolas knew that he would hate himself later, he ran.

Ran away from that demon with an angelic face.

"Better or worse." The bard's word echoed like chasing shadows behind him. Legolas only stopped when he reached his chamber.

His clothes soaked with cold sweat and his ear ringed loudly. He leaned on the closed door, slowly writhed to the ground.

What just happened?

Master...What master was he talking about...

It can't be...He was from Lothlorien, right?

But...what if he was like Azog...

From all the history books it wasn't hard to deduct that the Dark Lord had a fascination with Elves. He forged the Rings of Powers to control Elves at the beginning, and only when the plan failed, he gave them to Humans and Dwarfs. He had always wanted to gain control over Elves...what if he had succeeded on some of them?

He had to tell Thranduil! He had to warn him!

But first, he needed evidence.

He scrambled up, rushed to his desk and wrote a letter to Haldir of Lothlorien, asking him for more information about this bard. He wrote two identical letters, and at dawn, he gave one of them to his trusted attendant, instructed him to leave for Lothlorien right away.

As for the other one, he went to a near village and found a travelling Lothlorien merchant, paid her ten gold coins and asked her to deliver the letter.

By noon, Legolas was summoned by the King.

"What is this?"The letter was slapped on Legolas's face.

Thranduil wasn't even looking at him. He was standing near the window, sipping at a cup of wine.

Legolas asked quietly, "why do you have it?"

"No one leaves this kingdom without my permission, especially not a sneaking attendant of the Prince with a letter addressing a foreign March Warden. Why did you write it?"

Legolas inhaled deeply and answered with caution, "It's just a casual inquiry. "

"Casual inquiry without consulting me?" Thranduil finally turned to look at him, eyes distant and cold, as usual.

Legolas knew it was Feandir behind this interception of the letter. Normally no guard would stop his attendants from leaving. He bit his lips and trod carefully.

"He has been staying with us for more than three months, and considering his relationship with you, don't you think we should do a more thorough background check?"

"So now you are worried about my 'relationships'."

"Ada, I only wish you well and safe."

"He is a bard, Legolas. He will not threaten your position, so I want you to stop this tantrum immediately."

"I never worried about my position," answered Legolas numbly.

Thranduil looked at his son, noticing how gaunt and pallid he looked. Something was different about Legolas these recent days. After that night, Thranduil expected the Prince to hide from him for a couple of days like every time they had a fray before.

But Legolas didn't avoid him. On the contrary, he became more...amenable, more obliging and dutiful. Almost like the son he remembered from a century ago.

However, it troubled Thranduil.

Before that night, Legolas was more...alive. And now, he was but a shell of his former self.

Had he done too much damage?

The King had his secrets. He was still having nightmares. And in those dreams, Legolas was laying on his bed, arms and legs spread like a butterfly pinned on the dark velvet sheet, looking at him with so much desire and lust.

It was a voluptuous dream when he was in it, but the guilt and loathsome crashed down like a landslide when he woke up with a rock hard cock. He tried to find the release from Feandir's body, but there were times when Feandir's visage transformed into Legolas's under his sight, during his culmination. And he feared that one day, he would call out his son's name.

Thranduil waved his hand irritably, "leave. And never contact outsiders without my permission again."

"What about Miston? He was just following my order. "

"He will stay in the dungeon for another day. "

"Please..."

"Just another day, he will manage. " Thranduil finalized, leaving no room for negotiation.

One month later, Legolas put on a cloak with a deep hood and sneaked out of the Palace at dawn again. As he expected, the merchant returned from Lothlorien, and he had to meet her at the Golden Deer Tavern.

She handed him a reply to his previous letter in dashing handwriting, and the first line read:

Dear Prince Legolas,

It took you long enough to write to me.

Notes:

Three chapters this weekend, I am so hardworking right~

Chapter 15

Summary:

Legolas tried to fight back

Legolas read Haldir's letter in the deep shades of the unawakened trees. As he went through the words, a forboding coldness crept up his spine like a thousand crawling insects. 

Feandir was born in Lothlorien one year later than Legolas himself, and he was the bastard son of a High Priestess of Yavanna. No one knew who the father was as the High Priestess refused to disclose. It was a renowned scandal of the Yavanna's Temple of Lothlorien at the time, for it was the most revered High Priestess who breached the sacred chastity vow. She was disowned and exiled by all her kins and left with her baby son Feandir in her arms and was never seen again. 

One hundred and fifty years later, the baby boy returned as a grown Elf and a brilliant bard. Many elves acclaimed his euphonious voice and accepted him as their kin, despite his mother's ordeal. Feandir claimed that he had travelled to the end of the world and had seen many wonders, yet no one knows much about exactly where he had been during the long exile and his mother's whereabouts.

Legolas leaned on the tree trunk, sighed in frustration.

Just as he thought, there was a gap in Feandir's history, and it smelled fishy. Anything could have happened in a hundred and fifty years, and if he had travelled to the end of the world as he claimed, how come in his ballad there was not a word about the White Tree of Minith Tirith, or the stark views of the Misty Mountain, or the imposing Pillars of Kings on the River Anduin?

But still, he didn't have enough evidence. He needed to find something substantial, something that leaves no room for doubt.

He stayed in the woods until the sun sinking slowly into the arboreal sea. Until the warm dusk air froze up, bringing the stillness of the night. He knew he had many things to do, but he did not want to go back.

The home no longer felt safe, for foreign darkness had infiltrated their haven. It was such an evil that Legolas couldn't even begin to understand, for he was still too young and did not see the world trembling under the Dark Lord's burning gaze.

But he had to go back. Thranduil was there, and that sneaky bard might have poisoned his mind. No matter what had happened between them, they were still father and son, and he still loves Thranduil helplessly.

For days Legolas observed Feandir from afar carefully. He trained many guards himself. They would all do his bidding and be his eyes and ears and report back to him every morning after the check-ups.

For most of the time the bard was just doing bardly things. Practicing lute or harps, composing new songs, or searching for old music scores from the library. The rest of the time he was either at Thranduil's side, or stayed in his room doing Valar know what...

Except for every fourth day of the week, he would quietly leave the Palace, an unknown package in hand, and disappear into the woods for hours after sunset.

On the fourth week, Legolas decided to follow him. 

The Prince was excellent at tracking and tailing preys or enemies in the woods. He was lithe and supple, passed through the dense bush and low-hanging branches like a skimming shadow, not stirring a single leaf. 

Feandir paused on his track from time to time to look around warily but found nothing out of place. Eventually he stopped in front of a colossal and ancient oak.

It was one of the oldest in Woodland Realm, standing not far from the Royal Cemetery. Legolas used to lie on its robust branches when he was an elfling, let the golden spring sunlight filtered through layers after layers of green leaves and left gentle kisses on his face. And he could hear the oak talk to him in a low rumbling humming voice, recounting stories that no ears had ever heard. 

To Wood Elves, trees are intellectual and solemn beings. The older they get, the more wise and prominent they become. Their roots expanded deep into the earth, intertwined with each other, communicating with each other, like countless reticent observers and guardians of this magnificent land. 

Feandir took out a knife and started to carve waggle lines into the wrinkled bark. As a cryptic sigil slowly forming under the pale hand, he was also muttering some illegible incessant chants. The tune was elusive and outlandish, not a language that Legolas had heard, yet bore a certain level of similarity to Bolg's chants.

It was obviously the worshiping of an unknown force, an occult that conjuring chaos and ambiguity. Upon finishing the sigil, Feandir knelt in front of the oak and opened the package.

It was a voluminous book, apparently written ages ago, for the pages were all brown and grimy. The cover of the book was dark with peculiar gilding. It looked like an eye's shape, surrounded by numerous tadpole-like wordings forming into an intertwined polygon.

Legolas watched him open the forbidding book and began to chant in that unsettling language aloud. It was a song that Legolas couldn't comprehend, yet the eccentric tone bestowed a profound horror onto his pensive heart. 

It was a primordial fear, buried deep within the source of his soul, of every being's soul. It was the same kind of fear when the first Elves awoke in complete darkness, the same kind of fear when men first saw the angry lighting cleave the sky or hearing the bone-chilling howling of unknown beasts. Legolas knew then that the bard was doing black magic against their homeland, against the whole forest. And he had to stop him right away before the poison sipped into the deep soil. 

The book and the sigil were substantial enough. Even Thranduil could not deny such evidence. 

Legolas barged out like a diving falcon befalling on a doomed prey. He tackled Feandir to the ground and interrupted his ritual. Feandir yelped in panic and tried to attack with the ritual knife, but his wrist was caught by the faster Prince. Legolas forced him to loosen the grip and seized the knife, pointing it to the bard's throat minaciously.

Feandir stopped moving. He looked at Legolas and grinned malevolently as if he was not the one in the plight. 

"Who is your master!" queried Legolas angrily.

Feandir kept that eerie smile on his face, and the very next moment, he began to scream without warning.

"Help!!!!Help!!!!Don't kill me please!!!I beg you!!!"

He yelled loudly and suddenly that it startled Legolas. He tried to cover the other elf's mouth, but the bard floundered like a dying fish and almost tipped him over. 

"Shut up and don't move! "Despite the Prince's best effort to restrain the bard, the knife still left a thin cut on his neck. Beads sipping out immediately.

"Stop!!!"

Accompanied by a raging roar, a commanding hand tore Legolas from the bard and throw him to the ground. Legolas regained his position immediately, prepare to fight against whatever came upon them, yet froze when seeing it was Thranduil standing between him and the evil bard.

How was that possible? Why was Thranduil even in the woods at such a late hour?

Feandir scrambled from the ground and hide behind Thranduil like a scared child. Yet when he looked over the King's shoulder and met Legolas's gaze, the same malice was blazing like fire.

"What has gotten into you!" Thranduil scowled at his son in disbelief.

"He is a lier! He is the pawn of that necromancer, and I have proof!" explained Legolas urgently.

"What are you talking about!"

"Look at the oak tree! He was carving sigils on them, the same sigils Bolg carved. He was performing dark magic and infecting our land from the heart of the forest!"

Thranduil raised one side of his brows, turned around to look at the oak. The tree was as it was, unharmed, not a single trace of scratch.

Legolas couldn't believe his eyes. Panic started rising within his gut, "no...this is impossible! I have seen it clearly! And there is a book. That book on the ground. It is a soccer book, I am sure of it!"

He rushed to the book and pick it up to show Thranduil, yet the King's glare was even colder than before.

"Yes, I see, a songbook." He said in a sardonic tone.

Legolas quickly turned the book around and was struck speechless.

The eye-shaped sigil was gone, and as Thranduil said, it was just an old, ragged music recording book. He shuffled through pages in frantic, and all he could find was scribbles of music notes. 

How...

This was wrong. This was all so wrong.

And the knife...the knife that Feandir used to perform the ritual was in his hand...

And Feandir was sobbing quietly and pitifully. He leaned on the King helplessly and muttered shakenly, "I was just practicing my new song and...if I have offended Your Highness in some way unknowingly, please forgive my clumsy and foolishness. I can leave this Realm if it pleases Your Highness..."

His meek tone was so soft and fragile, and his tear falling like pearls, beautiful but heartbroken. It was so believable that even Legolas felt a pang of irrational guilt for a moment. But then he saw the leer glittering under the delicate and frightened veneer of the bard when Thranduil was not watching.

"Non-sense. You have done nothing wrong." The King answered Feandir coldly while fixed his icy stare on Legolas.

The cloud broke at that moment, and a waning moon glowing through the dense canopy, and Legolas suddenly realized which day it was.

The fourth day, the fourth week of the fourth month of this year, was the day his mother died in Angmar two hundred and eighty-three years ago.

There was no tomb but a statue of his beautiful mother standing in the graveyard, entwined by ivy and vines. Every year on this day, Thranduil would visit her, cleaning those ivies away and brought her flowers and branches interspersed with newly grown leaves. His grandfather Oropher and many relative's tombs were also there, and Thranduil would talk to them on this night, though Legolas was never allowed to follow or listen.

And yet this oak tree was so close to the graveyard...

A chilling shiver ran through the Prince's body, and he suddenly realized a too-late fact: this was a trap.

Feandir planned this...he started to go out every fourth day, knowing that Legolas would eventually follow him. And he fell for it!

Legolas cursed himself unavailingly, heart sank under the scrutiny of the King.

"Ada, I swear I was telling the truth. He is not what he looks! For Valar sake, he admitted to me that he has a master! And he threatened me!"

"What could he have possibly threatened you with Ion nin? Look at him. He is no match to you physically."

"He is poisoning your mind, turning us against each other!"

Thranduil rebuked irritatingly, "I have warned you to stop all of this childish foolishness! No one is turning me against you. You are entirely capable of doing that yourself."

It almost felt like a physical blow to Legolas's face. Each word was like a spiculate sherd jabbed him ruthlessly. He looked at his father in agony while trying his best not to let the tingling wetness in his eyes spill out, "do you believe his word over mine?"

What Legolas wanted to ask more was: will you choose him over me? But he still had some self-esteem left after all.

"I believe my own eyes." Answered the King, "you are the one holding the knife and hurt someone without a valid reason, and you expect me to believe your empty words? "

"My lord, please don't fight over me, for I am just a bard." 

Legolas snapped at the bard, "shut up you lying snake!"

"That's enough!" Thranduil cut Legolas off, and then turned to Feandir, spoke in a slightly gentler voice, "you can leave us now. I will send a healer to check on your wound."

Feandir docilely nodded and left swiftly, head bowed low. Yet when passing by Legolas, he lifted his chin a little and grinned slyly.

"Better or worse, your choice." Legolas could hear a voice echoing in his mind, and his heart was full of despair, rage and fear. But most of all, helplessness.

Thranduil sighed, approaching Legolas and taking in the sorrow and pain flared in the Prince's eyes.

"Legolas, what has happened to us?" He asked in a quiet voice.

Legolas shook his head, "I didn't lie..."

Thranduil observed his son, who was barely holding his composure and obviously trying not to let the tear fall by breathing deeply. He had always known that Legolas yearned for his affection. He was too broken to care at first since he had lost almost everyone he loved deeply throughout the long years. And then it became a habit, a specific way that they communicate and connect. 

It was not that he didn't care about his son; it's just...he didn't want to experience grief over a loved one anymore. He barely survived the last one, and the next one might just going to kill him.

And now, the yearning had changed and distorted into something unnatural...something sinful...

Worse, Thranduil himself was yearning too. 

His son, so vulnerable, so beautiful, waiting for his judgement. Thranduil wanted to touch his cheek, to wipe away the heartbroken tears, and to taste those trembling rosy lips. He wanted to lay Legolas down on the mossy ground, to tear off every piece of fabric from that perfect body, and to take everything that he wanted. His green leaf will be squirming and moaning gorgeously under him, and they would reach that blissful paradise together, again and again.

But he couldn't, for it was wrong in Valar's eyes, in anyone's eyes. He could not give in.

"I need you to leave for Lothlorien."

Legolas's eyes shot up, sadness replaced by a moment of despise, "you are sending me away for your precious bard?"

Thranduil ignored his bitter protest and kept talking, "I have written a letter concerning the necromancer of Dul Goldor to Lady Galadriel and the Gray Wizard. You can find them both in Lorien. Such an imminent matter is better to be conveyed by you rather than a regular messenger. "

"But I can't leave you with Feandir alone! Ada, you have to listen to me! He is poisoning your mind!"

"I will make the judgement myself. Just do as I said and no more paranoid accusation, or I will have to punish you." Thranduil turned to leave, but his hand was seized by the frantic Prince.

"Please..." Legolas wasn't sure what he was pleading. But he knew that he didn't want to leave, didn't want to give Feandir a chance to deepen the rift between his Ada and him.

Please don't let me go...

Please don't give up on me...

Please love me...

Please choose me...

Legolas couldn't say any of them.

Thranduil closed his eyes for a short while to conceal the pain, and wrenched his hand from Legolas's desperate clutch.

Chapter 16

Summary:

Legolas arrived at Lorien

The morning Legolas depart for Lothlorien, Thranduil watched him from the window high up, hidden behind precipitous stones and luxuriant shrubs. The same window that Legolas watched Thorin left. 

Galion was there, charging the Prince about trifle things that he should heed for, doing what should have been a father's duty.

He saw his son delayed the departure again and again until he couldn't prolong any longer, kept looking toward the closed tall blue gates as if waiting for something or someone.

Thranduil knew that Legolas was waiting for him. He almost went down the spiral stairs to bid farewell to his son as all father should have, but a sense of dreadfulness kept stopping him from doing so.

The past few days had been difficult. Legolas obviously thought that he let him go to Lorien was some sort of punishment and was thoroughly hurt. Every time they met, his son would not look him in the eyes and was eerily quiet. 

Thranduil had wanted to explain that it wasn't the case. He was simply acknowledging Legolas's concern over Dul Goldor and gave him a chance to visit Lothlorien, to meet with that Marchwarden that his son had taken a like a while ago. He hoped that Legolas would find love and comfort from a more suitable and capable partner than himself. After all, all their confused feelings toward each other were merely the necromancer's spells' doing.

Thranduil still headstrongly insisted that the intense feelings, the irresistible urges and the unethical desires were not real. They were forced upon his son and him by a malicious being, and it would be unwise to fall for it and make the matter worse. Maybe some time and distance could smother the flame and diminish the dark passion. Maybe Legolas would fall in love with someone else and forget about his apathetic father.

But why merely imagining the possibility made his chest tight with anger and jealousy? Why did he have to give his beautiful son to someone else? Why couldn't he take and keep what he wants even though he was a king?

He wanted...to destroy anyone who dared to lay a hand on his green leaf. None of them deserves Legolas. He was his and his alone!

It was a war waged within his troubled mind, and he wasn't sure how it would end.

……………………………………………………

Legolas rarely left the Woodland Realm. The few times he did were usually filled with awe and excitement of seeing something new, but not this time.

Most of the journey was still within the Greenwood (or Mirkwood) realm, but as the shadow deepened in the southern area, they had to leave the Woods and heading toward Lothlorien by boat along the River Anduin. As they went across the Gladden Fields, Legolas heard a piece of horrifying news from several travelling men while they were resting in a tavern of a small town.

Thorin was ambushed by a band of Orcs after they left Mirkwood. Some said that Azog personally led the trope. Others said it was one of Azog's general. But the battle was brutal, and some of Torin's companions were killed. Those Orcs took Bolg and then retreated back into the darkness of the night.

The news weighed heavy on Leagolas's heart, and he couldn't help but took off his hood and approached those chatting travellers. 

Men from this town didn't have many chances to see Elves, not to mention the Prince of Mirkwood himself. They eagerly provided all the information they knew. Apparently, the Dwarf Prince himself was not wounded and led the group to the direction of the High Pass in Misty Mountain.

It happened half a month ago. Thorin could have already tramped over the High Pass or have met his demise on the way. Nothing could be done at this point. But Legolas couldn't help but wonder if Thranduil's gift to the Dwarfs were actually an act of vicious revenge. The King knew that Azog would come for his son, and giving Bolg to Thorin would divert the Great Goblin's attention away from the Woodland Realm. 

It made Legolas shiver to merely consider the possibility that Thranduil would manipulate Orcs to punish Thorin, who was actually his previous ally and was in love with him. 

It was cold-blooded and crossed the line. 

This was unlike Thranduil. Yes he'd been furious and might have locked the Dwarfs away in the dungeons, but never like this...He wouldn't have tried to kill Thorin just because the Dwarf Prince did a disrespectful thing with his son, not to mention letting Orcs do the dirty work.

No matter how implacable the quarrel between him and the Dwarfs, Orcs were always their common enemy, weren't they?

Thranduil has changed. Nothing prominent or palpable. It was the small things, like how he almost lost his temper a couple times, how he was even more distant and aloof toward everyone, how he refused to acknowledge the threatens they were facing, as well as the slowly brewing hazy darkness in his blue eyes. It happened rather ominously and progressively, like a slow-spreading disease.

Was it Feandir's constant influence? Or was it what happened in Dul Goldor that changed him?

Was it all caused by Legolas?

This was his fault...Thranduil was murderous that night, and since the King couldn't do much to his son, he took it out on the Dwarfs.

He shouldn't have provoked his ada intentionally like an importuning elfling. And now Thorin and his fellow warriors paid the price. Their blood was on his hands.

Legolas wasn't able to sleep after hearing the Dwarfs' mishap, and by the time they reached Lothlorien, he was ashen and sombre like a ghost. Not even the glowing alluring light sprinkled between the branches of the elegant and giant Mellorn trees could have lightened him up.

Haldir was the one who would escort the Woodland Realm party to Lord Celeborn's house in Caras Galadhon. He had been excited to meet the beautiful and yet strangely forlorn Prince again, but upon seeing Legolas in such a poor state, his heart sank.

What in Valar's name had happened during these past couple of months?

"Legolas, son of Thranduil, welcome to Lothlorien." He bade his welcome nonetheless, decided to hide his surprise and questions for now.

Legolas returned his greeting in a decent stately manner, even tried his best to muster up a strenuous smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you again, March Warden."

Their memory together in the garden was like a distant dream, yet it was only several months ago...Too many things had happened since then, and Legolas had changed.

He almost hoped that he never knew that it was possible to have a...intimate relationship with his father.

They marched through the gorgeous forest for hours, and by nightfall, the party rested on a talan. After a long and arduous journey, everyone fell asleep within seconds after a sumptuous meal provided by the Lorien Elves, excepted for the haunted Prince of Mirkwood.

Haldir sit near Legolas quietly, nudged his shoulder, "can't sleep?"

Legolas sat up, "I can't remember when was the last time I could..."

"Is everything alright?"

Legolas shook his head but wasn't about to disclose the sensational mess he had left behind in the Woodland Realm, so he chose to start a new topic, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to write to you sooner, and the letter i sent was rather...obscure. How have you been?"

"We have detected increasing Orc activities recently. I suspect that they are on to something in that Valar forsaken fortress across the river. But other than that, life was quiet. "

"There are Orc activities in Dul Goldor?" Legolas asked surprisingly, "we didn't find anything when we...investigated it."

"You entered the fortress?" Haldir asked astoundingly, "my Prince you are braver than I thought."

"You thought I am a coward?"Chucked Legolas with a hint of playful threatening.

"I most certainly didn't. It's just most of us would rather dive into Moria than getting an inch closer to Dul Goldor. The mere sight of its silhouette makes me cringe."

Legolas lowered his head, stared into his own hands, "you are right. I should have never gone near that place. Something evil resides there, and I fear the worst."

"You come to us about this matter, don't you? What have you seen?"

"I didn't see much, but I could feel it...A presence, lurking in the mist and the smog. "Legolas shuttered at the recollection. He hugged himself as if he could still feel the cold, dark energy caressed his skin, "I don't really want to talk about it now."

Haldir watched the haunted Prince, taking in the dark shadows that fell under those sapphire eyes. The last time he saw Legolas, he was quiet but proud and glamorous. If the Elven King was the sun, then Legolas was the moon, and all-stars paled in front of his beauty.

Now the Prince was still beautiful, but more vulnerable, even fragile in a sense. Something had scared him, hurt him, broke his spirit and shattered his light. And it made Haldir angry and feeling protective at the same time.

The March Warden extended a hand and slowly stroked Legolas's left cheek. The intimate touch startled the Prince a little, but he didn't pull away.

He missed the gentle touch, missed the feeling of being cherished. 

But did he deserve it? Legolas couldn't help but question it in his mind.

"I have been thinking about you, "Haldir spoke in a soft, husky voice, "maybe even dreamed about you once or twice."

"What were we doing in your dreams?" Asked Legolas.

"I would love to show you, but not here." Haldir grinned seductively, "I think it would be too much of a show for everyone."

Legolas smiled, wearily, but a smile nonetheless, and that gave Haldir a sense of accomplishment.

"Now try to get some sleep. I will watch over you." The handsome Elf reassured, held Legolas's hand up and left a gentle kiss on it.

And Legolas managed to get some sleep that night, though haunted by many nightmares. In one of them, Thorin was covered in blood and looked at him with resentment. In another one, shapeless figures surrounded him and inundated him like merciless water, while Feandir standing on the bank and grin at him with so much malice and cunning. And his father, the person he loves the most in this world, just stood beside the sly bard and watched him drown.

He jolted awake in a cold sweat but soon found himself wrapped in a warm cloak that smelled like the fresh dew in the morning. Haldir was still guarding him at the side. He greeted the Prince with a chivalry smile, eyes filled with concern, and Legolas worried that he might have said things in the restless dreams.

The rest of the trip was eventless. By mid-day, they could see the grandeur city Caras Galadhon from a high cliff. The gigantic silver Mallyrn spread their branches, and the thousands of golden flowers reflected the spring sunlight in every direction, creating a golden haze looming over the whole Elven city.

Legolas was nervous, for it was said that Lady Galadriel could see through a person's very soul. 

Would she see the rotten secret within him?

It was not the first time he met the Lady of Light, one of the most ancient Elves living on Middle Earth. But every time, it felt like going through a test, of which the content was unknown.

As he was waiting on the Audience Talan, a familiar figure showed up from the right side stairs. Mithrandir, or Gandalf, wearing his usual Gray robe, wand in hand, smiling at him warmly. 

"Gandalf!" Legolas exclaimed joyfully.

"It has been a long time, Legolas Thranduilon. "The Wizard observed him in awe, "last time when I saw you, you were only half of your height." He gestured a younger Legolas's stature by hand.

Legolas had always liked the Wizard. He was not as grimy and distant as the White Wizard and told him many wonderful stories from foreign lands. Sometimes he would bring him exotic candies and intriguing small toys when Legolas was an elfling, and the young Prince was always looking forward to his visit. But since Thranduil closed the Kingdom for most travellers, Gandalf had been visiting less and less often.

"I have missed you, and your candies, of course."

"Ahhh, maybe candies over me?"

"Possibly." smirked the Prince.

Gandalf laughed resonantly, the kind of hearty Laugh that only Gandalf could make. 

As they spoke, a bright light descended from the long stairs, and everyone fell into silence.

From the blissful light emerged three figures. Lord Celeborn held the hand of the graceful Lady Galadriel, and behind them was a dark-haired Elven maiden, who was the most breathtaking maiden Legolas had ever seen. She resembles Lady Galadriel in terms of her gracefulness and unearthly beauty, and it wasn't hard to guess her identity.

She was Lady Galadriel's granddaughter, Princess Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond. 

Thranduil used to contemplate letting Legolas wed Arwen to fortify their relationship with Imladris many years ago. But he didn't proceed with the plan after one of his meetings with Lord Elrond went sour...

Legolas bowed humbly and greeted the Lord and Ladies. When he straightened himself, Galadriel's gaze pierced him in place. 

"You are in great pain." said the Lady in a pensive voice, "a foreboding shadow has fallen on your heart, tormenting your soul. "

Legolas did his best to maintain his equanimity, "I am worried about my homeland and the future of our people, my Lady. I came bearing a letter from my father."

He presented Thranduil's letter, and Lord Celeborn read it out for everyone to hear.  As the information unravelled, Gandalf's expression was overcast with dismay and misgivings.

"I have been to the fortress myself." explained Legolas, "and I am sure that this necromancer has an ill intention and is planning something despicable against all the free people. He has been poisoning our land for a century. Now Azog is doing his bidding, and he is becoming more and more powerful."

"You and the King both have met him?" Gandalf asked, heavy-hearted.

"I believe we did, but...I don't think he has a body. All I could hear was his voice."

Gandalf exchanged an ominous look with both the Lady and the Lord. Then Galadriel gave the Prince a gentle smile, "it has been a long journey. You must be exhausted. Please rest for the night, and we will continue the discussion another time."

Legolas bowed again and turned to leave with Haldir. Just as he was descending the stairs, Galadriel's voice echoed in his mind.

"You are hiding a secret, young Prince. "

And Legolas froze a moment in fear before he fled after the Marchwarden.

Chapter 17

Summary:

Legolas discovered a horrible truth

Legolas followed Haldir climbed to a spacious talan, on which sat an airy cabin with an elegant curvy roof and vine decorated pillars. All of his guards settled on other talans, and this one was prepared for him alone.

He stood at the edge of the talan, looking out toward the dreamy scene of floating light and glittering golds. The air here was so pristine and crisp, devoid of any contamination from the darkness.

Greenwood used to be expanse and beautiful like this, but then...then everything was rotting.

A guard called Haldir away, so Legolas was alone on the talan with all of his swirling thoughts. He couldn't bear the silence of the surround against the cacophony in his head, so he gathered his clothes and left for the hot springs in the woods to bath himself.

Several maiden servants were busying with the preparation of flowers and herbs at the private spring entrance for royal families, indicating it was occupied, so Legolas turned toward another hot spring nearby. 

It was a small lake surrounded by shrubs of blooming golden Elanors. Hot steam intensified the fragrance of the flower, creating a thin and aromatic mist over the lake. It turns out that this was a common bathing place. Many Elves liked to bathe here, so when Legolas arrived, several male Elves were already there, swimming, chatting and laughing convivially.

Legolas hesitated as he was used to having his private bathing chamber, and it was almost daunting and awkward to undress in front of so many strangers. 

Just as he was about to turn away, one of the Elves spotted him, and their chatter lulled while all eyes turned to his direction. They probably had seen him when he followed Haldir walked through the city, and recognized him as the foreign Prince. 

Under the scrutiny of several curious sights, Legolas felt his face burning, yet if he had fled like a feckless elfling, it would have been even more embarrassing. So he put on a temperate and amicable front, undressing hastily and stepped into the water, trying to act natural.

The water was pleasantly heated, and the perfect warmth relaxed his tensed muscles, sipping into his stiff joints and carried away the remaining fatigue. Legolas leaned on one of the giant boulders and closed his eyes, trying his best to disregard the elusive ogling from other Elves.

Until one advancing voice asked, "Are you Prince Legolas from the Woodland Realm?" 

Legolas had to open his eyes then.

Standing in front of him were two young Elves. They had similar platinum gold hair as Haldir. One was slender and smaller, while the other one had a broad shoulder and strong arms. They were beaming at the Prince. 

If they had met with more cloth on, Legolas would have been more relaxing and obliging.

"Um...Yes, I am."

"Please forgive our intrusion, but our brother had been speaking about you nonstop since he came back, and you are exactly as he described. We are too excited not to introduce ourselves."

"Don't mind him. He has no manners. It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. My name is Orophin, and this is Rumil. We are brothers of Haldir." The taller Elf bowed his head slightly.

Legolas gawked at the two Elves, "Haldir has brothers?"

"Yes he does." Rumil and Orophin now were leaning at either side of Legolas, answered with eagerness, "although we are not as...personable as him. Haldir is always the most popular one."

"Popular?"

"Oh yes, I dare to say that at least half of the maidens in our whole realm have a crush on our big brother, and maybe half of the lads too. "Said Rumil.

"Our Haldir is a charming lover and heart-breaker. We used to think that no one can keep his heart." Orophin sighed while shaking his head.

Legolas couldn't help but chuckle, "used to think? What about now?"

"He has been obsessed with you since he came back from the Woodland Realm!" said Rumil.

Legolas was surprised, "you are exaggerating. We have only met once."

Rumil exclaimed, "But it is true! The day your letter arrived, he almost jumped off his talan in excitement!"

"I DID NOT jump off my talan!"

Three heads snapped back and found the Marchwarden of their very topic was standing on the bank, arms crossing, one brow raised in an unimpressed slant angle.

Rumil muttered, "well, almost." And Orophin nodded in agreement.

Haldir rolled his eyes, "you two, stop harassing His Highness with your trifle opinions. Don't you know the basic etiquette in a shared bathing place is to refrain from approaching someone who doesn't want to be bothered?"

Legolas interpolated with a smile, "I don't mind. "

Orophin grinned with victory, "see?"

Haldir sighed in exasperation and commanded his two brothers with the authority of the oldest brother, "ok, you two, get out of the water and go back to your duty."

"What?! But I haven't finished!" Orophin protested.

"You HAVE finished, now do as I say." Haldir squinted his eyes with intimidation.

Rumil and Orophin reluctantly moved to another side of the bank to get dressed while complaining about Haldir's autocratic mannerism. And Legolas turned to face the Marchwarden, sinking a bit dipper into the water to hide his nudity.

Haldir's eyes were unreadable. He tilted his head and gazed down at the Prince, "I am sorry for my brothers' nonsense, do not believe a single word they said about me."

"So you didn't break half of the Elves' hearts in the whole realm?"

"I absolutely didn't." He paused for a second and then added, "only a dozen. And I didn't do it intentionally."

Legolas laughed, "I should heed for your blandishment."

Haldir curled his lip, sensually, "blandishment is not my only weapon."

Legolas cleared his throat, giving up holding Haldir's intense stare, "were you looking for me?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you want me to give you a tour around the Palace, and the guard told me you came here. It's good that I have chosen to come as those two brats would have fed you with all sorts of biased information."

Legolas laughed amusingly at the way Haldir talking about his brothers, "Give me a moment to dress up, and I will come with you."

Haldir didn't move.

Legolas blurted, "turn around will you?"

Haldir chuckled, "after what we have done in your Palace?"

"Yes! The occasion is different, and you should show a prince respect!"

Haldir complied with a smug smile.

While Legolas was dressing up, the Marchwarden spoke again, "you know it is unfair that every other Elf in this pool can see you naked, but I cannot."

"You've had your share," Legolas answered cheekily.

After freshen up, Legolas felt much better. The tormenting secrets and self-loathing were still there, but he could put them aside to function relatively more integrated.

He roamed with Haldir along the sinuous stairs, terraces and ramps wrapping around the gigantic trees, passing through curvy arches and lamp decorated pavilions. An ethereal song was floating in the air, light as scattering feathers, unfurling like the morning mist. Legolas stood to listen, acclaimed heartily, "It is beautiful."

"The Priestesses are praying to Yavanna. Their songs enrich the land and help the trees and plants grow better." Haldir explained, "do you want to see the Temple of Yavanna? It is very close."

Legolas nodded, and they climbed more stairs until they reached a vast talan. Countless lamps illuminated the Temple, like a silver vile embellished by thousands of stars and diamonds. A magnificent statue of Yavanna stood in the middle of the central Temple. Long curly hair entwined her curvy body, flowers and vines clustered on her silky dress. 

At her feet, dozens of Priestesses encircled the Arata. They all dressed in green and silver gowns, a circlet of flowers on their heads. They all sang with so much devotion that the scene looked sacred and glorious.

Among them, one of the Priestess stood higher than others. Her long dark hair reached the floor and bloomed many Elenors. Haldir whispered into the Prince's ear, "that is Sileveth, the High Priestess."

"The High Priestess after Feandir's mother Eithrien?"

"Yes. She was Eithrien's best apprentice, and she knew Eithrien well. Although she doesn't talk about her ex-mentor much." Haldir gave him a cryptic look, "so if you want to know more about Eithrien, I can introduce you to her." 

Legolas then realized that Haldir brought him here for a reason. He was trying to help him.

Legolas felt a warmth spreading in his chest, and he answered with gratitude, "you have done me a great favour, dear Haldir."

Haldir grinned charmingly, "you can always pay me back, under my terms."

After the Night Prayer ended, Haldir did what he promised and introduced the Prince. Sileveth was a generous spirit, beautiful in a non-aggressive way. She ushered Legolas and Haldir to a drawing room and treated them with some herbal tea. 

She was way older than Legolas, yet didn't leave Lothlorien for almost her whole life. She asked Legolas many questions regarding the Woodland Realm's customs and culture, especially how the Temples were managed and how the worships were conducted. Legolas answered everything in vivid details, which gain her good grace in less than an hour.

Finally, Legolas found a chance to ask, "There is a Lothlorien guest who currently resides at our lodging, and he told me that he knows you well."

Sileveth was surprised, "may I ask his name?"

"Feandir. He is a bard."

And with that name spoken, Sileveth's visage changed drastically. Her genial smile was gone, and the open posture closed. 

"I didn't know he is in the Greenwood."She answered in a distraught way, "and I don't really know him well."

"But you knew his mother?"Legolas inquired carefully.

"Yes, for she was the High Priestess before me, and my mentor. But I believe you have already known." Sileveth stood as she speaking, apparently upset, "if this is your purpose of meeting me, I am sorry for not being able to help you. I do not wish to discuss her any more than I have to."

"Please! High Priestess, this is very important to me." Legolas also stood up and implored wholeheartedly, "My father is very close to Feandir, and I worried about his safety!"

The urgency and despair in his tune astounded the Priestess and Haldir, for he did not reveal much about his concern in the letter.

Sileveth hesitated.

Haldir also pleaded, "Please, High Priestess, we all know the feeling of fearing for our beloved ones. Prince Legolas has travelled a great distance to seek our help. Isn't it merit to provide what we can give?"

Sileveth sighed and finally sat back in her chair, "what do you want to know?"

"Do you know who the father was?" Legolas asked incisively.

Sileveth shook her head. She paused for a moment as if fidgeting something in her mind, "she travelled to the Woodland Realm once, about fifty years before Feandir was born. It was just another diplomatic trip to exchange knowledge and gifts to Priestess in other realms. After she came back, she was...changed."

"Changed how?"

"She was distracted most of the time and slept a lot. She used to talk to me, but after that trip, she shunned everyone and locked herself in her chamber except for the most important occasions. I asked the Priestess who followed her on that trip, and they said they lost her for about three days in the southern area of the Greenwood, only found her wandering in the woods one night. No one knew what happened in those three days. No one dared to mention it because it was their responsibility to ensure the Priestess's safety."

Southern area... Back then, the woods were still not infested, but the fortress had already existed.

"Did it happened near Dul Goldor?"

She nodded reluctantly, "not too close, but not very far, either."

"But she was unharmed?"

"Her finger was bleeding from a thorn, but other than that, she is unharmed."

Thorn...Blood...

An uncanny hypothesis started to form in the Prince's mind.

Sileveth continued, "I started to notice that she sometimes would disappear from her chamber, and I couldn't find her everywhere. But when she mysteriously appeared again, she was happy and exuberant, almost like her older self. Until...Until the child was born."

Legolas contemplated the information at hand, heart sank deeper and deeper.

"Did she say anything to you before she was exiled?" Asked the Prince.

"She only said that she has no regret, that I shouldn't weep for her destiny. And...that if I ever miss her, just look east."

East...

If he'd climbed to the treetop and looking east now, he would have seen the sea of Mirkwood's canopy, and the forbidding Dark Fortress.

Everything clipped.

Eithrien was seduced and enchanted by the necromancer, in a way similar to him and Thranduil. But in her case, she actually fell in love with the necromancer and gave birth to a child of his.

What a horrible destiny.

Sileveth mush had guessed some of it, and it scared her. So she never mentioned it to another soul.

Feandir was the necromancer's son.

Legolas didn't realize he was shaking in fear and rage until Haldir touched his shoulder gently, trying to calm him down.

"I...I'm sorry for putting you through all of these," Legolas muttered, bowed to the High Priestess one more time before barged out. He was frantic. All he could think about was Feandir whispering poisonous curses into his father's ear, tainted the King's very soul.

He could not let that happen to his Ada! He had to kill that bastard!

"Legolas! Legolas!" Haldir caught up to him and grabbed his arm, "where are you going!"

Legolas struggled in panic, "I have to leave now. I have to go home!"

"Calm down!" Haldir held him tightly and not letting go, his voice grimy and intense, "Calm down and listen to me!"

Legolas couldn't shake free, so he was forced to listen.

"What will you do if you go home now?" Asked the Marchwarden.

Legolas ground his teeth, "I will kill him! I don't care if my father is going to lock me to the dungeon for it!"

"And for what reason?"

"He is the son of that sorcerer, who had been attacking us for a century! And he is trying to destroy us!"

Haldir sighed, "do you think your father will believe a bard is capable of such a task?"

"No, he is a sorcerer too. I have seen it! I have warned Ada!"

"And did the King believe you?"

"..."

"Besides, even if you plan to kill him when your Ada is not present and thus cannot stop you, and if Feandir is actually as powerful as you believed, do you think he will just stand there and let you do it?"

Legolas paused, was at a loss of words. He knew Haldir was right. The sly bard had a tight grip on his father's mind already. If he rushed back without a plan, it could only go worse.

He couldn't do anything now. He was useless.

Suddenly, he fell into a pair of strong arms. Haldir's smell of fresh Mellorn leaves and Elanor enveloped him, holding him tight, grounding him firmly. Legolas then realized how fast his heart was beating and how shaken he had been.

Haldir held him in his arms, slowly and gently stroked his hair, whispering in his ears with so much care, "It's ok, Legolas, we can solve this. We will tell this to the Lady and Mithrandir tomorrow, and they will know what to do. Do not despair."

Legolas leaned on the firm body, asked in a shaky voice, "what if we are too late?"

"The King is a strong Elf. If he has been compromised, he would not have sent you here. You have to trust him."

"I'm just...afraid."

"I know. And it is ok." Haldir tightened his hug, voice so steady as if nothing will ever surprise him, "I will help you, I promise."

And then, Legolas could no longer contain all of the guilt, fear, longing, hatred, and helplessness that had been tormenting him for months, and he broke down into the Marchwarden's embrace.

Notes:

It’s Christmas vacation time, yay! I will have more free time at hand and probably will update a bit more chapters throughout the week. Thank you for everyone’s comments and kudos! <3

Chapter 18

Summary:

Haldir helped Legolas to relax

Quietude filled the way back to Legolas's chamber. Haldir escorted Legolas closely, always half step behind, like a dutiful shadow guarding him with persistency. Legolas appreciated his thoughtful silence, but he did not dare to peek on the Marchwarden's expression, fearing finding any trace of disdain.

Legolas had just broken down in the Marchwarden's comforting embrace. After hearing the High Priestess's story, he had had a frantic reaction, and then it went straight to a panic attack. He had never been so out of control of his emotions in front of another elf who was not his father.

Worse, he wasn't sure if some other Lorien Elves saw him like that...

Legolas felt humiliating and stupid, and if there had been a crevice somewhere, he would have burrowed into it right away and never be seen again. 

Just to add the cherry on the top, his head hurt throbbingly from the tension of that breakdown. He felt like shit.

Once they had reached the talan, Legolas finally mustered up some courage and straightened himself, facing the Marchwarden yet not very much meeting his eyes, "thank you for everything, Haldir. You have been very kind to me."

"Glad to be of service."

After a brief awkward fidgeting moment, just as Legolas was about to blurt out an invitation for Haldir to stay, the Marchwarden asked, "are you hungry?"

"Huh? Um...I suppose I should be, but I don't really feel hungry."

"When was the last time you eat?"

"Last night."

Haldir was speechless for a while and then decided without asking permission, "I will send for some food. Wait for me." Then he went down the stairs and quickly disappeared into the psychedelic blend of light and shadow. 

Legolas washed his face and quickly gathered his thoughts. Tomorrow he would need to explain what was happening between him, his father and Feandir, while evading any possible suspicion about his real problem with Thranduil. It shouldn't have been hard, as normally people would not even contemplate the sinister possibility of...incest.

He had no intention to destroy his father and himself, so he would have to be careful and yet not overly sensitive. He would disguise his worry and jealousy into the genuine love a son has for his father. 

Though the problem didn't stop there.

Suppose Feandir really was the necromancer's son. It could explain the ambivalent threats he gave to Legolas in the Library, as the necromancer might have a way to communicate with his offspring and tell him about the incident in Dul Goldor. Therefore, should Gandalf or the Lady decided to visit Woodland Realm and talk to the son of that necromancer, would he reveal the secret that would doom Thranduil and Legolas?

The panic started to bubbling again, and Legolas had to grab a bottle of wine and gulp down half of it to sedate himself.

Haldir then returned with a silver plate of various gourmet foods. The buttered white loaf, savoury beef roast and fresh berries were all very enticing, yet Legolas still couldn't find much appetite.

"Thank you. You didn't have to." 

"If I don't, you probably are going to starve yourself to death."

"I won't die just for not eating for a couple days."

"Even us Elves need to eat to survive, maybe not as much as men, but nonetheless." Haldir sat the plate on the table and gestured to the other chair while sitting down himself, "now sit and eat."

"Are you always this authoritarian?" 

"You will be if you have two trouble-maker younger brothers."Haldir smiled charmingly at the complied Prince.

Legolas took a bite at the sliced and buttered loaf bread. The rich and creamy flavour simulated his dormant appetite a little.

"I wouldn't know the feeling of having a sibling. Though I did wanted a little brother or sister when I was very young."

"And yet I envied all the privileges that an only child has."Haldir rested his chin on his right hand while watching Legolas eat as if watching an intriguing show.

"Privileges?" Snorted Legolas, "it's good to know that they exist."

"Didn't your father spoil you? Such a brilliant son surely should be treasured."

"He is a King. Rules don't apply to him."Legolas changed the subject, "how about your parents? "

"They had passed away in the Last Alliance when I was a hundred sixty-five years old. "

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. They died heroes, and time has healed the wound. We will all meet in the Hall of Mandos eventually anyway. No point to dwell on a temporary parting."

Legolas paused a second, then sighed, "I like the way you think. If only Adar did the same..."

"I've heard of the passing of King Oropher and the Queen. That must have been difficult for your father, lost two of the most important people in his life in such a short time."

Legolas put down the unfinished bread, noded quietly, "and my grandmother died in the Sack of Doriath, in the hand of the Dwarfs. My father was just an elfling by then... He had lost everyone he loved." 

"But he still has you. I can tell that you love your father deeply."

Legolas gave Haldir a sad smile, "I'm afraid it's not enough. When my mother died, ada wasn't eating, wasn't talking, locked himself in the room, not seeing anyone, including me. He was so ashen and...lifeless.I was so scared that ada would have faded with her. And I kept thinking about what could I do to make him stay."

Haldir looked into those bleak blue eyes and saw the loneliness and fear still pervading. And he thought, maybe Legolas had never stopped being afraid. 

Afraid of being abandoned, of not being loved.

He touched the Prince's hand, stroked his long fingers, "he stayed for you, didn't he?"

"Maybe...or maybe he stayed for the duty. I don't know."Legolas sighed, and then as if trying to pick up the sombre air, he forced out a laugh, "I'm afraid I have burdened you with too much angst. Who am I to complain about life when I have all the privileges while you had to try to be the parent for your brothers."

Haldir chuckled, "It's not a competition. Besides, my grandparents helped a lot before deciding to sail for the Undying Land twenty years ago."

"Will you sail west too?"

"I haven't heard the call, but very likely in the future. Don't just talk, finish your food."

Legolas rolled his eyes, "what if I don't?"

"Then I will have to help you." the Marchwarden picked up a cherry, held it to the Prince's mouth with a challenging smirk.

Legolas, accepting the challenge, leaned in to bite on the cherry. Crimson juice stained the soft lips, and the Prince even licked his finger during the process. The bright eyes kept contact with the Marchwarden's, swirling with captivating light.

Haldir's gaze deepened with desire.

"My Prince, you are treading a dangerous line."

"How dangerous can it be?"

"That will depend on how insubordinate you are."

"You are asking a Prince to be submissive?"

"Yes, I am."

Legolas lifted his chin, curled up his lip corners, "fine by me."

This time Haldir picked up a mulberry, "no licking, and look at my eyes."

Legolas obeyed. It was a weird feeling to be fed by someone else while maintaining intense eye contact with the one doing the feeding. Nonetheless, it evoked something arousing within him. After several rounds of obedient behaviour, Legolas felt adventurous and licked Haldir's finger again, more deliberate, more sensual.

Haldir grinned, "what did I tell you?"

"No licking."

"And did you lick?"

"Yes, I did."

Haldir slowly stood up, towering the Prince, "Should you be punished for your delinquent behaviour?"

Legolas's breath hitched, "Yes."

He needed this. He needed to forget the worry, the fear and the shame, even just for a short while. 

"Stand up, and remove all your clothes, "Haldir commanded.

Legolas did as he told, stood in front of the Marchwarden, and gradually revealed his body piece by piece. Tunic, undershirt, breeches, boots...Until he has nothing left. Chilly night air kissed his naked skin, prompted a brief shiver.

Haldir's gaze burned him, intrigued him. The Marchewarden looked at him as if admiring a work of art, like he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And Legolas liked the feeling. It made him feel...worthy.

"Now, turn around and stand in front of the table, put your hand on it."

The new position forced Legolas to bend a little, so that his backside was at the display like a freshly cooked gourmet dish. He rolled his pelvis forward slightly to make the exposition more thoroughly, inducing a sigh of arousal from the other Elf.

"You are gorgeous, your highness. I wish you could see yourself."Haldir approached him from behind, so close yet not touching. His hot breath puffing at his ear.

Legolas laughed, "I thought this is supposed to be a punishment?"

"It is, and I intend to make it enjoyable for both of us." As he was speaking, Legolas felt something soft was wrapping around his wrists, binding them together. It was a silk curtain tieback. The bond was not too loose but not excessively tight either. If he wanted, it wouldn't be too hard to wriggle free from it.

This was something new...

"No matter what I do, your hands stay on the table. If you lift them up for even one second, I will prolong the punishment, understand?"

Legolas swallowed nervously, "yes."

"And if you feel overwhelmed and want to stop, just say stop, and I will stop." 

"Ok."

Haldir proceeded to brush Legolas's golden hair to one side and pecked gently and playfully on the back of his neck. Legolas giggled from the tickles yet was held in place by two strong arms surrounded his body. The hands adorned by callouses that only worriers bore roamed on his skin, erotically massaging his tightened muscles. They rubbed his chest, pinched his nipples, causing the Prince's breath to hitch.

The Marchwarden then nibbled on Legolas's pointy ear, causing him to shutter in the stimuli. 

"Remember, don't remove your hand," Haldir whispered, and slid his hand all the way down, held the Prince' half-hardened member in his hand. Meanwhile, his other hand dipped into the soft butter on the silver plate and then slithered down the crevice between the two firm and round buttocks, finding the hidden entrance.

Legolas felt the butter coated finger poked and massaging around the ring of closed muscle, while the hand in front started to stroke his member slowly. He had no idea how Haldir could perform two different tasks at the same time, but the anticipation was roaring in his veins.

Feeling the entrance started to loosen a bit, the finger finally breached in, burrowing into the narrow and deep channel with precision and determination. Inside the Prince was hot and moist, the enclosing flesh squirming with hunger, sucking the finger in without hesitation. Haldir felt his own prick hardened up instantly, and his blood boiling with lust.

Legolas inhaled sharply, feeling the finger invading while being stroked slowly and steadily, escalating him toward the wanton world of sensuousness. 

Soon the second finger joined. They scissored and flexed, pushing around inquisitively. Until the long finger found the sensitive spot and sent a severe jolt through the Prince's flushed body. 

Legolas was anticipating the stimuli but still unable to contain the yelp. His whole body tightened for a moment, the muscle in his channel constricted. And his bonded hands almost left the surface of the table.

"Hands on the table." Reminded Haldir with a wicked smile. And then he rubbed the spot again, and then again and again, deliberately and relentlessly attacking it. Meanwhile, the stroking on the member picked up speed, pumping it with power and demand. Waves after waves of pleasure assaulted Legolas's sensitive body, every strand of his nerve fibre fired up like the mid-summer firework. 

The Prince was feeling everything, for his sensations were heightened, and he could feel the night wind brushing against his chest, Haldir's hair sweeping on his shoulder and back, and the Marchwarden's tunic fabric abrasing his delicate skin. The intense pleasure from both front and behind inundated him, pushed him right up to the brink of explosion.

He moaned loudly, no longer care if any servant would pass by and hear him. 

And he was close, so close, but then, everything stopped.

Haldir withdrew his fingers and let go of his swelling cock that was secreting pre-cum without a second thought. The Prince couldn't believe it. He was elevated to the middle and the sky and was just...hanged there. He whimpered and begged urgently, "no...no, don't stop!"

The Marchwarden still didn't touch him. He moved his hand in frustration and tried to touch his own cock, but then his hands were slapped away.

"What have I said?" Haldir pined his hands back to the table.

Legolas's eyes dilated. He finally understood the meaning of the rule and the essence of this "punishment."

"Please, Haldir!" The Prince was shaking uncontrollably and begged so deliciously, that the Marchwarden had to harden his heart to resist granting him what he wanted.

"Tsk tsk, You broke the rule again my Prince." Haldir shook his head in disapproving, "now I have no choice but to delay your gratification."

"I'm sorry, I won't move my hand again!"

"I'm afraid sorry is not enough." He licked the Prince's earlobe, grinning devilishly.

Legolas had no choice but to endure the torment of slowly coming down from edging. As his cock gradually soften a little, Haldir's hand was back on it again, and the two fingers shoved back into his squirming channel.

As the new onslaught began, Legolas let out a satisfactory and relieving sigh. The lulling waves were stirred up again, forming a storm of erotism. Legolas was drifting along with the raging surges, feeling like drowning in any second. 

Just as he was about to reach the climax, Haldir withdrew his hands again. All sensation was frozen in place with the absence of inducements, and Legolas cried in frustration. His entrance was spasming, and his legs were shaking, almost unable to support himself. Though he did not dare to move his hands again. 

"Please Haldir! I can't..."

Haldir wiped the pleasure induced tears away from the Prince's cheek, "do you want me to stop?"

"No! Don't stop...Please!"

"Will you be obedient and do as I say?"

"Yes! Yes, I will!"

"Good." Haldir held the Prince's from behind, surrounding the naked and flushed body with his warm embrace, and scattered dispersed kisses on his shoulder and nape.

As Legolas finally came down a little, Haldir grabbed the throbbing member and pushed fingers into the wet entrance the third time, and resumed his skillful task. This time, when the brim was near, and the orgasm was impending, the Marchwarden didn't stop. He pushed the Prince right past the door of paradise, sending Legolas to the most demanding and intense climax he'd ever experienced. The Prince's whole body went into a convulsion as he came in waves. Creamy cum showered onto the ground.

Legolas almost fell to the ground as the orgasm passed, but instead he fell into Haldir's arms. The Marchwarden lifted him up in his arms effortlessly, carried him to the bed, and then left shortly to get a damp towel, cleaning the Prince up swiftly and tenderly. Then he wrapped Legolas in a warm blanket and tugging him in. 

Legolas's mind was still fuzzy, but the feeling of being taken care of was so lovely that he felt like a distant dream.

Thranduil used to tug him to sleep at night too, many, many years ago when he was an elfling. So long that he had forgotten how good and cozy it felt.

As the Marchwarden finishing, he noticed the Lorien Elf's need was still prominent, as there was a bulge showing at his crotch. Legolas caught Haldir's hand, "I should help you too."

"Not tonight. I will take care of it later."

"But..."

"No but. You promised to do as I say, remember?" Haldir imprinted a kiss on the Prince's forehead, "now sleep."

Legolas smiled at him, tired but genuine, "why are you so nice to me?"

Haldir gazed at him with affection and answered: "because I can."

Notes:

Happy Holiday everyone!

Chapter 19

Summary:

Journey back to Mirkwood

Legolas was so exhausted that night that he finally had a dreamless sleep until the sunlight filtered through the curly shaped window and kiss him on his eyelashes, woke him up like a tender lover.

He stretched on the bed like a dozy cat, feeling replenished and well-rested. For a while, he almost forgot about the exigent threat looming over his head. But as the sleepiness recede, all familiar dreadful feelings returned concomitantly. 

He quickly dressed up, washed face and braided hair, making sure there was no trace of last night's carnal activities with the Marchwarden left. He smiled with a little coyness when he thought about the occasionally tyrannical and arrogant Silvian Elf. The reminiscence of what Haldir did to his body still made him flush.

Focus, he needed to focus.

Meeting with the Lady, the Lord, and the Wizard was almost as daunting as facing the necromancer again. He would be under the scrutiny of three ancient figures of wisdom. Any slip of his secret would lead to dire consequences.

Or...Maybe he could do it another way.

Legolas went down his talan and asked servants the Wizard's whereabouts. He followed the instruction and came to a high talan at the Elven city's east edge, where you can look out to the far east. Gandalf was sitting on a stone bench and smoking a pipe. The acrid smell of pipeweed and the cloud-like smog were dancing around his lonesome figure.

"Good day Legolas!" The Wizard greeted him without turning back, "how did you find me?"

"I asked around." Answered the Prince while sauntered close, stood next to the elder man, "it's a nice view here."

From their spot, there was no obstruction of their sight. The River Anduin was glittering gold under the spring sunlight, and the affluent plain rose and fell softly like a fuzzy green blanket. The dense forest of Southern Mirkwood purfled the horizon like a crevice of the scenery. Sunlight failed to luminant it as if something was sucking out all the brightness.

They watched in silence for a short while, and then Legolas said, "there is something I need to tell you."

Gandalf turned to him, "yes?"

"There is an Elf from Lothlorien, a bard called Feandir who is living in hour house and...having a close relationship with my father."

Gandalf raised one side of his brows.

And so Legolas told him about how Feandir threatened him in the Libray about turning his father against him, how the bard performed dark magic in the forest and Feandir's possible origin implied by the High Priestess's recount.

"When I rethink about it, he was the one who encouraged me to go to investigate Dul Goldor alone in the first place. It was like he plants seeds of ideas in people's heads, and you fell into his trap without knowing it." Legolas paused, wasn't sure if he sounds paranoid.

Gandalf didn't speak for a long moment, his expression overcast with pensiveness. 

"You are right to be worried. I shall travel to the Woodland Realm with you. We can stop near Dul Goldor first."

"You are going in?"

"Yes, I will have to see it for myself."

Legolas considered for a while and said hesitatively, "I should probably go in with you. It is too dangerous."

"Oh no, I have no intention to put you through it again. In fact no one should enter that damned place except me. Do not worry about me young Prince, as I am more resilient to sorcerors' tricks."

Legolas nodded and muttered, "then I suppose I should tell these to Lady Galadriel?"

"Leave that to me. I will need to borrow some soldiers from her anyway. And I know how much she scares you. She too scares me sometimes, if you know what I mean." Gandalf winked at him. 

Legolas smiled coyly and feeling so relieved, "I don't know how to thank you."

"Some good pipeweeds should suffice. " the Wizard stood up as he speaking, putting on his pointy hat.

Legolas grinned, "I will make sure to order some best Longbottom Leaf from our travelling merchants for you."

....................

Legolas was planning to leave with Gandalf on the next day. He was hoping to see Haldir again, but the Marchwarden was on duty the whole day, patrolling along the border and didn't return to Caras Galadhon for the night. Legolas was a bit disappointing, for he wasn't sure when they would meet again once he left Lorien. 

Being with Haldir was...comforting. Like he didn't need to be so on edge all the time, like he could relax and depend on him without worrying about being judged. He trusted Haldir, even though this was only their second time meeting each other.

If he hadn't already given all of his heart to the one Elf he could not have in this world, he would have fallen for Haldir. He almost hoped that he could love Haldir instead of his own father. Even if his heart had been broken like "half of the Elves in Lorien," he could have at least grieved for the unrequited love.

He laid on the bed, wondering what Thranduil was doing. Did he think about Legolas? Or had he forgotten about his son's existence and thoroughly enjoying Feandir's company?

Better or worse...

Even if Gandalf managed to talk some sense into his father and cast Feandir out of their Realm, there would always be other lovers. He would still have to watch his ada smiling to them, gently touches their soft cheek, kissing them on the lip and whispering sweet honey-dipped words. Thranduil could be a charming lover if he wanted to, and he could also be cherishing and gentle if he chose to.

And Legolas could never get those. Not even crumbs and pieces. If he had so much as wanted his ada to touch him, he would have to either provoke him to the extend that Thranduil wanted to punish him, or he had to get himself badly injured.

How pathetic.

Even hating your parent was easier than this...

Maybe it was better to give up. Maybe he should try to love someone else if he could help...

Troubled by chaotic thoughts, Legolas fell into an unsettled sleep.

The next morning, Legolas got up early and changed into his travelling attire. He gathered his bow and knives, left the talan to join his guards, who were gathering at the entrance of Caras Galadhon, getting the horses ready. To his surprise, Haldir and his garrison were also there, getting ready for departing.

"What are you doing here?" Inquired the Prince.

Haldir was putting a saddle onto his horse as he turned his head and smirked at the Prince, "I'm coming with you."

Legolas laughed surprisingly, "Lady Galadriel is willing to let you go?"

"I am hardly the most inimitable figure in Lorien, so yes. When Gandalf asked if he could borrow some of the soldiers, I volunteered."

"It could be dangerous."

Haldir slanted his eyebrow with discontent, "I am under the impression that you don't want me to come?"

Legolas lowered his gaze while tenderly touched the Marchwarden's hand, "I just...don't want to put you in any danger."

"Seems like your Highness has made a very inaccurate assessment of my ability as a competent warrior. We will need to fix that." Haldir teased, tugging at Legolas's belt playfully, "besides, I promised I will help you, didn't I?"

"Ahem!" A sudden interpolating throat-clearing sound drove Legolas to step back. Gandalf the Gray was approaching with an amusing smile lingered on his beard shielded lips, "I see why the Marchwarden was so eager to join the quest."

Before they left, the Lord and the Lady bade them farewell. Galadriel's gaze fell upon the Prince, and the Prince heard her ethereal voice in his head once again.

"I wish you can find peace in the darkest time, dear Legolas. Do not let despair dampen the light and strength within you, for your life has just begun, and you will become so much more than you could have imagined."

There was no pry or judgement in her tone, only comfort and benignancy. Legolas inclined with gratitude and mounted his horse, leading the group marching out of the city gate. 

They galloped along the Nimrodel river and reached the other side of River Anduin before sunset of the next day. Across the vast plain of the riverbank, Dul Goldor was hiding in the dark shades of ancient trees like a quiet predator. As they inching close to the woodland, a gloomy dreadfulness shrouded the group. Elves no longer chat or laugh. Eyes darting to the distant shadow in fear.

Legolas was incredibly nervous and unsettled. The last time he came to this place...It breached the barrier that Legolas otherwise would never have dared to cross and permanently changed Thranduil and his relationship. 

As they entered the dank and mouldy forest, the air became thick and fishy, like something had been rotting in a slimy puddle for days. They trod carefully yet were still sensed by some giant disfigured spiders. 

The woodland Elves were very experienced in dealing with these monsters. Haldir watched Legolas shuttling through the thick branches weightlessly, firing out deadly arrows toward the encroaching spiders. He too, joined the Woodland Elves to fight, using the thick branches as leverage and shield. He managed to kill one of the most grotesque spiders, which was sneaking up on Legolas from behind, with one precise shot through its brain. 

Legolas gave him an appreciative and almost admiring smile, which made the Marchwarden very proud.

They cleared up the path in no time. Haldir drove his sword into the last spider's hideous eye, grimaced upon seeing the dark oily blood oozing out. He jumped off from the branch, landed right next to the Prince.

"I see you have made your point." Legolas was cleaning his knife with a piece of cloth.

"Which was?"

"You are indeed a skillful archer and a fierce worrier."

"I could get used to your compliments." Grinned the Marchwarden.

Legolas rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his dignified manner without laughing out. 

"It is close enough. I shall go on by myself." Gandalf walked up next to Legolas and Haldir, "you can wait here, make sure no Orc is sneaking in while I am in there."

"Are you certain about this, Mithrandir?" Haldir asked, "what if there are Orcs inside the fortress?"

"Then I will give you a signal. Do not enter without my signal, no matter what you've heard and seen." The Wizard warned them solemnly and then marched into the deeper forest. His gray robe soon dissolved into the damp shades.

They waited for several long hours. Legolas was obviously worried. He hovered between the trees, never sat down to rest. 

Haldir stood next to Legolas, passed a sachet of water to him," I still don't understand one thing. If the necromancer doesn't have a body, how did he and the previous High Priestess have a child?"

"We are still not sure if the child was actually his..."

"You seemed very convinced."

"It was my intuition. I knew there was something wrong with the bard."

Haldir observed the Prince's expression and chuckled, "you didn't like him from the very beginning, did you? I remember during the feast you were brooding the whole time."

"I didn't brood!"

"Yes, you did. Up until I intervened." 

"Don't flatter yourself. It was your fault if I think about it."

"How was it my fault?"

"He came with you."

"I could hardly decide who would join the diplomatic mission. "

As they were chatting, Gandalf reappeared from the darkness. Legolas rushed to his side, surveying if the Wizard was wounded, "Gandalf, are you alright? "

"I am fine, do not worry." The Wizard reassured, yet his brows furrowed.

Legolas's heart sank, "what happened? did you find him?"

Gandalf shook his head, expression darkened with sombre, "no, the fortress was empty, abandoned."

Legolas's eyes dilated, "what? But last time..."

"Though I could still feel something was not right. Something residual in the air was...familiar. But I could not be sure." Gandalf sighed pensively, "maybe he has left."

He left...

Would it be possible?

If the necromancer had left, then why the infestation was still spreading? No...he was not done with them yet...Legolas was sure of it.

Haldir asked, "what should we do now?"

The Wizard considered for a while and decided, "we ride to King Thranduil's Halls for now. I will return in the future to make sure he is really gone."

Notes:

Thranduil is finally coming back to the story in the next chapter~ Thank you for your kind comments and kudos!

Chapter 20

Summary:

The homecoming experience was not so hearty.

Coming home was supposed to be an exuberant and relaxing experience, but Legolas's mind was perplexed with a jumble of whirling concerns. Feandir had warned him before, and he had demonstrated his ability to mess him up. What would he do this time upon seeing Legolas brought back a whole group of helpers? 

Although unwilling to admit it, Feandir scared him. He felt like the bard could snap his finger, and everything he wanted and cherished would have been gone.

Worse, what would Thranduil think? His father distasted most outsiders, not to mention outsiders who were trying to interlope his personal matters.

"Are you alright, Legolas?" Haldir, who was riding next to him, asked with concern.

Legolas hastily collected himself and gave him a reassuring simper, "just a bit tired."

"We are almost there. You must be missing the comfort of home terribly."

Legolas could only nod perfunctorily.

**********

Thranduil was writing order of relocating and compensating for Elves of a small southern village destroyed by encroaching spiders when Galion informed him that Legolas had come back, accompanied by a garrison of Lothlorien Elves and Gandalf the Gray.

Thranduil's pen halted in the middle of the air, not heeding the dripping ink stained the paper, "where is he now?"

"He should arrive in an hour."

Joy glinted in the icy blues for a swift moment, but then concern raised instead, "why are Lorien Elves coming with him? Is he hurt?"

"I do not believe so, my Lord. Maybe it was a diplomatic visit?"

"They had just finished the diplomatic visit two months ago, and I haven't received any letter regarding it." Thranduil considered it for a moment and asked, "is the Lorien Marchwarden...Haldir I believe the name was, travelling with the Prince?"

"The leader of the Lorien Elves was called by that name."

Ah.

That's why.

It seemed Legolas indeed found comfort from another one, as Thranduil had planned. He was supposed to relieve, but he didn't. On the contrary, an irrational feeling of betrayal incited flames of anger, smouldering under the mask of impassiveness and composure. 

"Very well." Remarked the King coldly, "Prepare guest rooms for them. I still have letters to finish so won't be granting any audience today."

Galion hesitated before asking, "what if the Prince wishes to see you?"

Thranduil didn't reply, merely giving out a dispassionate glare, and Galion knew his answer. 

The Butler sighed quietly and excused himself.

The King resumed his writing, though strands of intrusive thoughts were churning within his distracted mind. He imagined what did Legolas do with the Marchwarden in Lothlorien, imagined the silver-haired Elf toughing his son's silky skin, kissing those long slim legs and driving all kinds of sweet noises out of the Prince's rosy lips. He put too much force on the poor quill, and with a crisp crack, the pen snapped into two.

He threw off the reminder of the quill on the ground with a bit of excessive strength and poured himself a goblet of wine to calm his nerve.

It was for the best, but why was he so angry? 

After a very unproductive hour, he heard commotions echoed in the hallways, and knew that his son had returned. He stood up as if about to leave the study, yet didn't move for a while, and then sat back reluctantly. 

He finished the drink and picked up another quill, and inundated himself in documents and reports for several hours until the sun was setting. The light streams reflected by mirrors turned into glorious golden rays crisscrossing the underground Halls, and the smell of freshly baked pastries sneaked out of the kitchen, fomenting in the warm afternoon air. 

The usual tranquillity was disrupted by a convivial atmosphere that usually happened when outsiders were visiting. And it irked him.

Thranduil left the study and sauntered toward his chamber. While crossing a sinuous bridge, he heard laughter erupted from underneath. The laughter, without any doubt, came from his son.

The King looked down and saw Legolas stood near an underground creek, laughing wholeheartedly at the other silver-haired Elf, who was sitting in the stream, clothes all wet, obviously just fell from the slippery step stones that peaking out from the water.

The Silvian Elf, Haldir, scrambled up and lunging at the gloating Prince in feigned annoyance, trapping the half-heartedly struggling smaller Elf between him and a giant boulder. Legolas stopped the pretentious struggling, whispered something into Haldir's ear.

Then Haldir raised Legolas's chin and kissed him deeply. His hand grabbed the Prince's arse.

Thranduil didn't realize his knuckles were turning white until the wood railing under his hand was giving out a creaking sound. He stepped back, recomposed himself before swiftly leave the scene. 

"My King." 

Feandir's voice startled Thranduil. The bard was sitting on a bench, lute in hand, submerged himself in the shadow. 

After Legolas left, Thranduil observed the bard for several days yet find nothing suspicious. Why did Legolas accuse him of using dark magic? Such an uncustomed accusation was rather superfluous if Legolas's purpose was driving the bard out of Woodland Realm out of jealousy. He could well be using excuses like Feandir was a pawn inserted in his court by the shrewd Lady Galadriel, which was much more believable.

"Why are you lingering in the shadow?" Thranduil asked in a low yet dignified voice.

Feandir inclined submissively, "I am practicing a new song that I just finished. I'm planning to entertain the guests with it during dinner."

"Very well." Answered the King detachedly, "come to my chamber tonight after you finish."

"Yes, my Lord."

As Thranduil was about to leave, Feandir said, "the Marchwarden Haldir, he seems very close to Prince Legolas."

Thranduil turned to him, "do you know him? "

"Yes, he is very popular among Lorien Elves. I've heard many romantic tales about him and his lovers."

Thranduil furrowed his brows, "lovers?"

"As I said, very popular." Feandir smiled innocently, "and there are usually broken hearts scattered about wherever he goes. He is a charming Elf and a great worrier, but I don't believe he had ever loved anyone seriously. For him, chasing is the best part." 

He paused a second, observing the Elven King's sombre expression carefully and then continued, "though he will surely fall for Prince Legolas, for His Highness is beautiful and brave, and none of the past lovers could compete with."

Thranduil didn't say anything, simply turned and left. Feandir watched his tall and proud figure disappearing into the deep halls, smiling like a mischievous audience waiting to watch an exciting show.

**********
Legolas wasn't able to see his ada the first day he returned. Nonetheless, he felt relief this time.

He assumed the host role during the dinner for Lorien Elves and Gandalf, and therefore, he had to endure the presence of Feandir. It was a good chance for Gandalf to take a look at the bard. 

Feandir sang a new ballad that Legolas hadn't heard before. It was a story about a princess who fell in love with a handsome ranger from a distant land. The Ranger saved her from a curse laid by an evil sorcerer, and they got married secretly in a small temple. However, later in the tale, it was revealed that the Ranger was actually her lost half brother, a bastard of the king. 

Legolas had to draw several deep breaths to sustain his indifferent veneer. He knew Feandir was taunting him, threatening him with his darkest desire. 

"I have to say the ballad is not bad." Whispered Haldir, "though a bit disturbing. It reminded me of the tale of Túrin. What an unfortunate situation befell them, committing incest without knowing so."

"It was a sad story. I wondered what they would have become if Níniel hadn't killed herself. Then Túrin wouldn't have killed Bandir and himself."

"I would say in this case, death was mercy." Haldir drank from his goblet, not noticing how pale the Prince was becoming.

Legolas asked quietly, "you think they deserved to die?"

"They did not deserve the fate, but comparing to living in the horrible sin and guilt, and to face the forthcoming exile, for Bandir had heard the truth from the dragon, death could have been a better option."

Legolas shivered.

Clap, clap, clap. The Wizard complimented the bard for his singing, "a marvellous perform, Feandir."

Feandir bowed humbly to show gratitude. 

"May I ask who was your master that imparted you such refined skills?"

"My mother was a phenomenal singer, for she used to be the High Priestess of Yavanna until she had me and was exiled."

No one expected such a candid answer. Gandalf inclined his head slightly, "my apologies."

"Oh, no need to apologize, master Mithrandir. It was her choice, and I doubt she ever regretted it." Feandir smiled beautifully and strung the strings again, "another song, my lords?"

The bard's gaze skimming the crowd and paused longer on Legolas. The darkness gurgling underneath made Legolas squirm in discomfort.

**********
The next day, Legolas spent most of the time showing Haldir all kinds of hidden places in the endless under mountain kingdom. Yet he was somewhat distracted, as he knew Gandalf would talk to Thranduil today regarding the missing necromancer. And maybe, the Wizard would also find a chance to speak with Feandir in private too, to access his...integrity.

He should have been present, but Gandalf suggested that maybe it was better if he kept some distance for now.

"Have you ever travelled outside the woods? Except visiting Lothlorien." Haldir asked as they roamed amid rows of silently towering statues, admiring the craftsmanship betokened in the meticulous details. 

It was a memorial site, a vault filled with effigies of heroes and significant figures throughout history. Their sages were engraved on the pedestals. They were standing in front of the sculpture of Isildur, the one who defeated Sauron in the Last Alliance. His artifact captured the moment when he was lying on the rock, next to his father's lifeless body, and swinging the sword Narsil up to cut off the Dark Lord's fingers in desperation.

"I have been to Imladris with ada when I was ninety-eight years old."

"So you have never been to any Kingdoms that are ruled by men?"

"No, I have not. But I have been to Lake-town. It was...dusty."

Haldir chuckled before saying, "When I was younger, I travelled to many places before becoming the Marchwarden. I have seen Minas Tirith's White Tower, shining so bright against the blue sky like it was made with pearls and diamonds. It was sad though, to think that how waned the Dúnedain of Arnor had become."

Legolas listened in awe and admiration as he also held a secret wish to travel distant lands and see the vast world created by Valar. He said, "Didn't Lord Elrond fostered Isildur's descendants after Aranarth? I remember seeing one of them when I visited. Argonui, I believe his name is."

"Yes, I've heard he just got married last year. He is the new Chieftain of Dúnedain. Nowadays people call them Rangers of the North."

"Rangers? That sounds rather like a hardy lifestyle. Although I've always wondered what it would be like. To wander about and see the world as it is."

"Your Highness as a Ranger? "Haldir laughed amusingly, "one thing is for sure, living in the wilderness will be way much dustier than the Laketown."

"You dare to mock me?"Legolas challenged while inching closer to the Marchwarden, backing him off toward the pedestal. And Haldir only complied so eagerly, pulled Legolas's belt and held him in his arms, bestowed a breathtaking kiss. 

"I thought you were going to visit my chamber last night."Haldir murmured into his ear, "and when you didn't show, I was devastating."

Legolas grinned, "I must have fallen asleep the moment my head touched the pillow. You can always come to mine in any case."

"Is this an invitation?"

"It could be."

Haldir's hand sneaked inside the Prince's tunic, feeling the warm flesh under his fingertips. His kiss dispersed to Legolas's neck, and the Prince gave out a delicious moan.

And then, someone cleared his throat.

Legolas's whole body froze in Haldir's arms. He quickly disentangled himself from the other Elf, tiding himself up while looking toward the source of the sound nervously.

Haldir also turned to look at the intruder and found the Elven King stood there, long silken robe spreading behind him, platinum gold hair glittering like mithril under the faint light. He was as beautiful and intimidating as usual, but now his gaze was almost...murderous.

Haldir hastily bowed to the King as a sense of dreadfulness overtaking, "my Lord."

Thranduil coldly glaring at them, "I see my Prince is doing an astounding work of entertaining the guest."

There was something sharp and ruthless in his tone. Haldir wasn't sure if he did something that offended the King.

Legolas couldn't believe the very first word his father said to him after he came back was such. His nervousness receded, replaced by exasperation.

"Yes, I LOVE to make sure the guests are VERY pleased. As always."

Haldir sensed a thunderstorm between the father and the son was fomenting, and he could well be trapped in the middle. Breaking out in cold sweat, he quickly interpolated, "His Highness was very generous and kind."

"Legolas, come with me."Thranduil turned and left without waiting for an answer as if he knew Legolas would always obey.

Legolas sighed and reassured the Marchwarden, "I will find you later."

Haldir nodded, "don't incense him."

Legolas could only smile forcefully, "I will try."

He quickly caught up with Thranduil, but the King didn't talk to him for a long while, only kept walking.

"Where are we going?" Legolas asked.

No answer.

"Are you mad at me?" Legolas tried again.

Still no answer.

"Did Gandalf tell you about Dul Goldor?"

"He did."

"What do you think? Do you think the necromancer is gone for good?"

Thranduil's step halted. They were in a quiet courtyard, with no servants or guards in sight.

"Why did you bring Gandalf and the Lorien Elves into my Kingdom, Legolas?"Thranduil turned to face him, irritation seething. 

"To tell you about his findings in Dul Goldor of course! Isn't that was why you sent the letter?"

"Then why is he asking about Feandir?" 

"..."

"For Valar sake, Legolas! Why can't you just drop the matter! Now you are sending outsiders to what, threaten me?"

"I am not threatening you!"

"Then why the Lorien soldiers? If I refuse to comply. If I do not let go of the bard as you wish, what will you do? Is your Lorien lover going to claim the throne for you?" Thranduil was walking toward Legolas like a predator about to devour his prey. The rage of being the subject of his son's scheme was palpable as the sun in the sky.

Legolas gawk at the King, "I am not plotting against you! How could you even suggest such a thing! "

"I do not know, Legolas, for I could hardly recognize you sometimes!"

"And I could say the exact same thing to you!" stung by the King's remark, Legolas spatted, "you tried to get Thorin killed! And you don't even have the gut to do it yourself! You even let Orcs do your dirty work. How could you do this? What would mother, who was slain by Orcs in case you forgot, have said about it?"

Slap!

Legolas's head snapped to one side, the sting feeling exploded on his left cheek.

His eyes were wide, burning with hurt and disbelief.

Thranduil tried to get a hold of himself, for it was harder and harder to control his temper recently, and Legolas just kept...driving him crazy.

"Do not ever mention your mother!"Thranduil warned him with dangerous seriousness. 

Every time he mentions his mother, Thranduil would have reacted in an acute way that deviated from his usual dispassionate mien. 

Maybe mother was the last one the King would ever love. 

"You know, I sometimes wish to trade my place with her." Legolas spoke quietly, brokenly, "at least you would have always remembered me."

Thranduil looked at his son, left cheek reddened, shaking with emotions. He regretted all of it but was unable to apologize. He never apologizes. He reached out a hand to touch his son's cheek, but his hand was slapped away by the Prince.

"Is this all you want to talk about? Can I leave now?" Legolas was trying his best to control the undulating waves of feelings threatening to burst out. He could not show more of his weakness to his loveless father.

Thranduil opened his lips wanted to say something, but there was nothing came out. Legolas didn't wait longer. He bolted.

And Thranduil stood there all alone, a crack of pain and torment broke his unreadable expression. 

Chapter 21

Summary:

Legolas decided to play Feandir's game, with an unexpected sacrifice.

"He will never show his true form when Gandalf is here," Legolas muttered as Haldir embraced him from behind. They were lying on his bed, covered in passionate sweat. Quilts and sheets crumpled around them.

Sex with Haldir was as satisfying as before, only this time he finally got a chance to repay the favour the Marchwarden did him in Lorien by giving Haldir an amazing blow job. Legolas was fairly content with his performance giving that he didn't do it often, and from Haldir's sated expression, he'd say it was not just his subjective assessment.

However, the voluptuousness could only numb the pain that was still stinging his heart for a short while.

It was weird that every time he thought that he had accepted his fate, that he would not be hurt by Thranduil's indifference anymore, reality would always mock him with malice.

Haldir was twirling Legolas's golden strands around his fingertip idly. He spoke in a low and meaningful tone, "you know, I was thinking about hunting this afternoon when I saw your guards practicing archery in the training yard. And I thought, when you want to catch cunning prey, sometimes you need to give them what they want first."

Legolas turned toward him. Eyes glittered in the dark, "what do you mean?"

"What does Feandir want?"

Legolas contemplated it for a long moment and replied, "I think he is doing the necromancer's bidding. He wants to control my father and thus control the whole Woodland Realm."

"And you stand in his way."

"Yes, I suppose I do."

"And if you are no longer an obstacle?"

Legolas looked into the Marchwarden's deep eyes, "then he will proceed with his plan, whatever it is."

Haldir smirked mischievously, "exactly."

Legolas bit his lower lip, considering all kinds of possibilities, "he is not easy to fool."

"Then we should make it believable."Mesmerized by the crimson on the bitten lower lip, Haldir inclined to kiss the Prince, to taste that addictive softness one more time.

**********

Thranduil slammed his cock deep into Feandir's tight channel, so deep it made the bard whimpered and squirmed in hypersensitivity. Feandir's long legs surrounded the King's narrow and powerful waist tightly, enveloping all the force and overbearing into his snake-like body.

He could feel the frustration and the repressed lust, and he knew that in Thranduil's mind, it was not Feandir laying underneath, but the untouchable Prince. 

Every time the King fought with the Prince, he would have returned his chamber late-night with this smouldered dissatisfaction, and Feandir would offer him some temporary relief. Still, it was like beating around the bush and only made the desire growing thicker and darker.

"My lord, I am yours, I need you! Take me! Possess me!"Feandir moaned in a honey-dipped voice. Each word slithered into the King's ear like tiny worms, rooting their claws and tentacles to the deepest part of the ancient mind. And Thranduil was oblivious to it. 

After spent inside the Lorien bard, Thranduil lay down and stroked away a strand of wet platinum hair from his forehead. Feandir probed himself up, looking at the King with gentle affection, "something is troubling you, my lord?"

"Nothing of your concern."

"Forgive me my lord, but was the quarrel about me?"

The King gave him a silent affirmation.

Feandir sighed, full of melancholy, "maybe it is better for me to leave. I don't want to become the reason for the alienation between you and the Prince."

"There is no alienation. You think too much." Thranduil pulled on his silk robe and went to pour himself some wine.

"I don't understand. Why does His Highness hate me such? Am I doing something wrong?"

"He was just being ridiculous." The King paused and sipped some wine before asked nonchalantly, "you have never mentioned your father. "

"That was because I never knew who he was," Feandir answered with a light yet profound sorrow, "my mother never talked about him."

"Former High Priestess of Lothlorien was she? Where is she now?"

"She had faded in the hills of Evendim. She missed her homeland that she could never return, and it gnawed her away bit by bit through the long years. The only thing that kept her alive was her love for me, but after I reached my majority, there was nothing left to tight her to this world."

Thranduil observed him carefully as he was speaking. The sadness seemed genuine.

"Don't you resent the Elves who exiled her?"

Feandir's eyes dilated in surprise as if he had never even considered the possibility, "why? For she made a choice, and thus had to bear the consequence."

Thranduil looked at the elf skeptically. Was it possible for a soul that been through so much suffering and mishaps to stay pure and innocent?

It didn't make sense, as he knew best how much losing the people you love and listening to the agonized howling of your dying kins could have changed a soul. Every experience, everything that had happened to you in this life would leave a mark. They would have affected how you perceive the world and react to everyone around you. And sometimes, you couldn't help but hurt others who tried to get close to you. And you could break those who did not deserve all the rage and fear that had been torturing your soul.

No one could survive this world without a scratch.

Thranduil waved his hand, "you can leave."

Feandir quickly put on the light blue robe and excused himself with a meek bow. He left the King's chamber, supple steps skirred through the long, empty hallway. 

As he passed through the lookout terrace, a gasp of ghostly wind scudded across his face, flipping his unbraided hair. He looked toward the balcony, and through the flowing diaphanous curtains and tapestries, he caught a glimpse of a familiar ethereal figure leaning on the stone railing.

It was the Prince, submerging himself under the moonlight. Breeze incensed with flowers and leaves raised the long silver robe like a flowing banner against the darkness. Under the robe was a pair of bare feet and slim shins.

Evidently, Legolas just came out of bed. And the slightly disarrayed hair and the not well concealed red marks on his neck beckoned a similar activity that Feandir himself engaged with the King merely moments ago. Yet the Prince looked lost and misery, his usually dignified posture faltered, shoulders slanted down.

"Your Highness, I am surprised to find you here." Feandir approached him from behind, and an anticipating smirk bloomed on his lips.

Legolas answered quietly, "I am waiting for you."

"Waiting for me? How unconventional!"

"Stop playing games with me, Feandir. I am surrendering, so please at least leave me with some dignity."Reproached Legolas.

Feandir leaned next to the Prince in a relaxing demeanour, and the complacent smile on his face compelled Legolas to punch him, but the Prince couldn't. Losers have to beg.

"What changed your mind?" Asked the bard.

Legolas's eyes roaming over the bard's body, fixed on his opened front, "I can smell him on you."

"The King was exceptionally audacious today." flaunted Feandir, "and he was so beautiful and mighty in the heat of raging passion, but I trust you had had a glimpse of it already."

Legolas swallowed, "I want this to stop."

"Want what to stop?"

"I don't wish him to hate me. I want it to get better."Legolas hesitated before saying, "no one could have replaced him, and I don't want to lose him."

"A very sensible choice." Appraised the bard, "now, what shall we do about it?"

Legolas nervously licked his lip, "what do you want me to do?"

"First of all, the Wizard has to go."

"Gandalf? "Legolas hesitated insecurely, "I suppose I can talk to him tomorrow, tell him there is nothing to be worried about...How about Haldir then? Can he stay?"

Feandir hmmed pretentiously and then graciously granted him a reprieve, "You may keep him. However, the Wizard's departure better to be genuine. Because I will know otherwise."

Legolas nodded docilely.

Feandir curled his lips, extended a hand and gently touched the Prince's chin, "I like how obedient you are now, and you shall be rewarded for it."

**********

Gandalf took leave two days later, and Legolas bade him farewell at the front gate of the Hall. 

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Gandalf asked benevolently, hands clasped on Legolas's shoulder.

Legolas squeezed out a smile, "yes, I will be fine."

The wise old man gave him a long, meaningful look, eyes flickered with compassion, "I've known your father for a long time, and I know he can be obdurate and fractious sometimes, but you are very important to him, do not ever doubt that."

"He had a funny way of showing it."

Gandalf sighed deeply, "sometimes life could change an individual. He was just an Elf, a stronger one, but nonetheless."

"But I am not the one to be blamed, am I?"

"No, of course not! Legolas, there is very little one can do to alter what has already happened. Although it is not supposed to be your burden to bear, sometimes you have to learn to find consolation from within, rather than seeking it from someone who may not be able to offer it."

Legolas made a grimacing face," that sounds self-deceptive."

"Which is a handy skill at times." The Wizard winked at him and mounted the horse, "farewell, Legolas Greenleaf."

"Farewell, Gandalf."

Watching the gray robe dissipated into the arboreal shades, Legolas turned and caught a glance of light blue robes flashed among the fern and ivy atop of the hidden window. He knew Feandir was watching them.

After nightfall, when almost every elf had travelled to the dreamland and quietude befell the cavernous Halls, Legolas came down to one of the most desolated caves in the Halls. It used to be a courtyard for herb planting and studying but was abandoned and forgotten for more than two centuries. The parterres were overrun by frondent shrubs, ferns and gaudy mushrooms, and the stone-carved fountain dried out and was entwined by ivy and vine.

Feandir was waiting for him in front of a broken pedestal. He was in a dark velvet robe that sucked all lights in, hair loosely cascading from shoulders. A silver pendant hanging from his neck, a symbol of an eye, mystically glowing in red. 

The bard looked different, nothing physical, but more on the temperament and atmosphere aspect. The meekness had gone with the wind, and what was left was something much more powerful and sinister, like a priest of an evil god.

Legolas felt his blood was freezing in his vein. Fear crept in like slimy slugs. But he had to advance and endure and surmount all of his trivial feelings because there was no other way.

And he knew Haldir was hiding somewhere, yet not too close, as Feandir might going to perceive his presence.

"My fair Prince, how nice of you to come."Feandir grinned with too many teeth.

The airy tone made Legolas cringe, but he answered impassively, "Gandalf has left. What else do you want from me?"

"Yes, I know he had left the woodland about half an hour ago. You did well."Feandir raised his hand and beckoned him to come close, "I have something to show you."

Legolas complied. 

A globe-shaped object was laid on the pedestal, covered under a dark velvet cloth very much like the robe Feandir was wearing. As Feandir lifted the fabric, an obsidian-like yet darker and much more mysterious globe stared at the Prince. Something was moving within it like some trapped fireflies, ominous and mesmerizing.

Legolas inhaled sharply, for the globe was emitting potent energy like thick tendrils. It was gloppy, compelling and perilous, like a sleeping monster waiting to open its devouring mouth.

"I have seen it before." Legolas whispered, "the White Wizard had one. It is one of the Seeing-stones!"

"There were seven of them, two lost on the northern seas, and one lost in Kin-strife of Gondor. This one is called the Stone of Osgiliath."

"The one lost in Kin-strife..." Legolas muttered in awe, "how did you procure it?"

"My master gave it to me."Feandir smiled sweetly, "and he will be your master too."

"Your master...what is his name?"In a circumspect tone, Legolas asked as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"He was called many names. Come and look into the stone, you will see him, and he will see you and mark you as his. "

Legolas didn't move.

Feandir squinted at him, "this is our deal. I have to make sure you are genuinely reconciling with me."

"What do you mean by...marked by him?"

"It means that you will open your mind to him and let him imprint his mark in it. You will hear his call, and if you chose to disobey, he will torment your mind in the worst way that you'd wish you are dead. But you can not die because that mark will bind your soul to your body."

Legolas shivered in pure horror, "is it...is it permanent?"

"I am afraid so." Feandir kept grinning devilishly. Dark energy twirled him like dancing shadows, "do not worry, the torture will be purely mental and nothing physical. You will stay as pretty as you are now, forever. And no matter how bad your body is wounded, you will recover fully given time. Think of it more as a gift."

Permanent...

Would Gandalf had been able to save him after this?

He could choose to signal Haldir now and take a shot to try to kill the bard. But he knew now that Feandir was powerful and prepared, and the force behind him was tremendous, and there was no way that they could succeed. 

Had he failed, Thranduil would have fallen with him.

Legolas closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly. He made up his mind. 

"I will do it."

Feandir laughed, "I know you will."

Legolas stepped forward, lowered his head to stare into the abyss within the stone.

The swimming lights slowly growing stronger and stronger, and suddenly a flashlight devoured him completely—thousands of broken memories swirling around him. All those past years, every moment of loss and sorrow, every moment of loneliness and longing, inundated him like toppling giant waves. He saw Thranduil in every single one of them, not only the memories of his own, but also glances of the King's memories.

He saw Thranduil crumpled down in front of Legolas's mother's status, eyes blank and hollow; saw him held a wounded Legolas's hand and imprinted a kiss; saw him howling in agony and desperation while holding King Oropher's lifeless body, and their people were slain by Orcs all around him; saw an elfling Thranduil cried and struggled when Oropher had to carry him away, while his mother was stabbed to death by the ruthless Dwarf spears and knives.

Legolas couldn't breathe. All of the pain, the loss, the struggle and despair. They were too real, overwhelming to the extent that was tearing his mind into pieces. And then, he saw the eye.

A colossal eye of fire with a thin pupil in the shape of a man with a sharp iron crown.

"Mine." A deep and doomed voice echoed the Prince's mind.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for your kind comments! The holiday is almost over but I will try to keep up my update speed :D

Chapter 22

Summary:

Legolas and Haldir executed their plan

Legolas inhaled sharply and stumbled back in trepidation. He tripped on a piece of fountain debris and tumbled to the ground, fragmented horror and desperation hovering in his eyes.

The voice in his mind was identical to the one he heard in Dul Goldor, except it was even closer, more intimate and invading. He'd have never thought a single word could elicit so much fear within one's heart.

Feandir laughed in exhilaration, and the colour of madness was churning in his dark eyes. He closed in on Legolas, enjoying the Prince's erratic breathing and his reflective recoiling.

"Welcome to the world of freedom." Feandir extended a hand, but Legolas didn't want to touch it. He sprung to his feet, trying to feel if there was something different within him.

As the shocking wave subsided, he surprisingly felt...nothing.

No headache, no whispering word, no haunted images. What just happened moments ago was like a distant dream.

"You will feel better tomorrow." Feandir shook out the dark velvet to covered the Seeing-stone up, and as his wide, flowy sleeve soaring over, the stone disappeared into the thin air. 

Concealing magic, it would seem.

"What will happen now?" Legolas asked. 

"You will see," Feandir smirked mischievously.

After Feandir left, Legolas stumbled toward his chamber. Haldir appeared at his side quietly like a cat, "Is everything ok? I saw you fall and I almost rushed out, but you haven't given me any signal, so I waited. What did he do?"

Legolas muttered, "he told me to look into a Seeing-stone."

"A Seeing-stone? How does he possess one? "

"His master gave it to him."Legolas's voice sounded haunted, eyes burdened with ponderous emotions, "Haldir, he said I was marked."

Haldir paled, "what do you mean by marked?"

"I saw his master in the stone, and I don't know who he is, but I know he is the manifestation of evil, of darkness." Legolas turned and looked at Haldir with hollow eyes, trying to mask his fear with a strenuous smile, "but I feel fine."

Haldir was dumbstruck, "how could you agree to such a thing! You should have signalled me and we'd have taken him out! My arrow would have gone through his throat instantly, and the Seeing-stone alone would have been enough proof of his wickedness!"

"We can't defeat him like this. None of us know much about magic, and he is not what he looks!"Legolas insisted with a solemn countenance, "and we won't have a second chance. He has taken control of my father's mind. I don't know what will happen to ada if we fail. I can't take that chance!"

"What about you?! What if he has done something irreversible to you!"Haldir was completely regretting suggesting the idea of setting a trap. He didn't think the Prince would go to such a great length to maintain the false front.

Legolas inhaled deeply, trying to calm his own nerve. He muttered to himself, though no longer so assuredly, "Gandalf will help me. I will be fine."

**********

Legolas was surprised to receive the King's summon in the morning. 

Thranduil hadn't had breakfast with him for at least fifty years since they both had a habit of skipping it. What changed his mind now?

"Be careful." Haldir kissed him before he was about to leave, "Feandir could be there."

"He won't dare to do anything in front of ada and Galion," Legolas reassured him, though doubting it himself.

To his surprise, Feandir was not present. 

Two sets of cutleries were set, and plates of nut cakes, bread rolls, cheese, ham and berries were displaying delightful colours and emitting a scrumptious aroma. 

Thranduil sat at the hosting seat, reading a letter attentively. 

This was the first time they met after their last fight. Legolas nervously walked up to the seat next to the King, quietly sat down.

Thranduil's eyelid raised slightly up just enough to greet his son without moving his head, "morning."

Legolas answered an awkward "morning" and poured himself some warm herbal tea.

A short while of strained silence.

Galion came to rescue obligingly, "I've heard that the Lothlorien Elves are proposing a friendly archery match with our worriers."

Legolas answered in alleviation, "Yes. Our Lorien kins have been practicing in the training yard and befriended many guards and soldiers. Haldir proposed it the other day, and I thought it is a fancy idea."

"It can be arranged." Said Thranduil succinctly.

Legolas was bewildered as he didn't expect Thranduil to simply agree like that.

"Um...Thank you, ada."

"How was he treating you?" Asked Thranduil nonchalantly while picking up a piece of biscuit,

"Whom?"

"The Marchwarden. You are involved with him, aren't you?"

Legolas's paused, unsure why he was feeling even more skittish than before, "involved would be too formal a word to use for now. I merely enjoy his company, and he mine."

"Just heed for any sign of infidelity, as I've heard that he has a history. I don't want you to get hurt."

Bewilderment was no longer enough to describe Legolas's feeling. Was Thranduil all of a sudden decided to try to be a proper father figure and to give him relationship advice?

Was this some sort of apology or making peace?

"Haldir has been a loyal friend to me, and he cares for me. But I thank you for your concern."Answered the Prince decorously.

"Good." Remarked the King.

They talked a little more about frontier defence issues and other trivial matters. Though frilled with intermittent awkwardness, the breakfast went on rather placidly. And when it finished, Thranduil put his hand on Legolas's shoulder briefly and said in a soft tone, "take care of yourself. You look tired."

Legolas was still dazing as he left the dining hall. The feeling of Thranduil's gentle touch on his shoulder lingered for a long time, prompted a flutter in his heart. He missed the tactile, missed the non-quarrel conversations. Most of all, he missed Thranduil terribly.

Though his excitement was short-lived, as Feandir walking up to him.

"I can tell that you had a pleasant morning." declared the bard with a sly smirk, "just as I promised."

A cold and dark current of fright overturned all of Legolas's joy into ash in a trice, "it was you?"

"And it is merely a taste of what you can have."Asserted the bard. The dark energy unfurled around him like a web. "as long as you obey me, he will be yours, and yours alone."

"How did you...did you hurt him?"Legolas was trying his best to conceal his terror.

"No, nothing like that. He thinks that he made all the decisions by himself."Feandir circled the Prince like a vulture, "Mesmerism magics have to be handled with prudent and meticulousness. One small mistake can lead to devastating consequences, namely madness, and sometimes even death. The King's mind is extremely complicated. Took me a while to get a hand of it. That is why I cannot use it on anyone else as it will be detrimental to my own mind."

And that was why he had to control Legolas with the Seeing-stone. 

The hollowness enveloped him like a suffocating tide, and he suddenly understood. The breakfast was Feandir showing him his power. None of those subtle but present affections were real.

Maybe none of the feelings they had been having for each other for the past several months were real, too. Just as Thranduil said after they came back from Dul Goldor, it was all an illusion created by the spell.

But Legolas knew his feelings were real because he had had them for so long, way before Feandir invaded his world. And it didn't matter if Thranduil cared for him or not because he loves and desires his father, and nothing could have changed it.

He had to be strong, for both of them.

"You have made your point."Said Legolas, "I will do as you say."

"Good. I will need your assistance for my last ritual to gain full control over the King's mind. Actually, the ritual will benefit you specifically." Feandir paused his step at Legolas's side, his voice airy as feathers, "You see, the mind of a strong Elf like your father is hard to corrupt, almost impossible. However, he has his weakness, and it is you. So when he entered Dol Guldur, my master laid a curse on him. And for the curse to take effect, a lure needed to be placed. "

Feandir's fingertip tabbed on the Legolas's shoulder lightly, "the lure, my fair Prince, are you."

"What do you mean?"Legolas was perplexed. Why did Feandir say he was his father's weakness? As far as he knew, Thranduil didn't have a weakness, not since his nana had passed away.

"I mean, if he had accepted the temptation, which is you, he would have fallen under my master's spell months ago. But he headstrongly resisted for this long. But now, I have worked my way into his head, and this ritual will shake his will power, captivate him with your charm. He won't be able to resist any longer after tonight."

"You are saying...if he loves me, he will become you and your master's puppet."Legolas felt the words were turning into hot coals, burning his tongue, scalding blisters, "and you are going to force him to love me?"

"Essentially, yes."

Legolas pondered it for a while and said, "what do you want me to assist you for?"

"Withdraw all the guard from the adjacent caverns of the abandoned herb garden for tonight. You need to show up at midnight, bringing a dagger and a sacrifice."

"What sacrifice?"

"An Elf who desires you. Just as the old saying goes: A life for a life and a heart for a heart." venomous glint shimmered in the false bard's dark eyes, "I believe you have just the right one at hand."

It would seem Feandir allowing Haldir to stay was not out of sympathy or philanthropy. He had use of the Marchwarden after all.

**********
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Asked Legolas disquietly.

Legolas had told the Marchwarden about the ritual at night, thought disguised the essential purpose of it. He only said that Feandir wanted to gain full control of Thranduil's mind and requested a sacrifice.

Haldir slanted one side of his eyebrow, "yes, Legolas, for the fourth time, I am sure. "

Legolas rejoined regretfully, "this is not your fight...I shouldn't have involved you in all of these messes. You could get hurt, or worse..."

Haldir pulled Legolas close, caressing his cheek with genuine affection, "I said I would help you through it, and I will commit to it no matter what. It is my decision to make, not yours."

"I'm afraid I don't have much to repay everything you've done for me."

Haldir sighed, "I'm not helping you to exchange for anything. Evil is our common enemy. I do this to protect my homeland too, so stop worrying about owing me anything."

Legolas was obviously not convinced, and Haldir put his arms around the morose Prince, assured him quietly, "after tonight, everything will be ok."

Legolas inhaled his familiar smell of golden leaves and Eleanor flower deeply, desperately trying to find some consolation.

This had to work. They had to succeed. 

The Prince reached the desolated herb garden at midnight, as Feandir demanded. According to the plan, Haldir would pretend that he was tricked here by his lover's note and arrive shortly after Legolas.

Feandir had already drawn a magic ring filled with mysterious incantations and sigils on the ground with owls' blood, stashed under moss and dry leaves. Legolas's job was to lure the Marchwarden to the center of the circle, and Feandir would initiate the ritual to trap him.

They all played their part with marvellous convincement. The two lovers kissed and stumbled in fiery passion, and the Prince managed to guide Haldir to the designated spot during the process. As the bard's mellifluous voice rose up like a thick mist from the darkness, snake-like thorns and thistles burgeoned from the hard ground soundlessly and shot up into the air like gripping tentacles. They coiled around Haldir's ankle and slithered up fast. Crisscrossing, intertwining. Soon his legs were secured within the web of thorns, and his arms were forced to stretch out to both sides.

Haldir yelped in pain and surprise. He struggled, cursed, calling Legolas a liar and a sorcerer. The panic and animosity and the pain of feeling betrayed on his face were so real that Legolas actually felt like a "cunning ass", and was pretty guilty about it.

Feandir walked into the circle as the entrapment finished, admiring the silver-haired elf struggling in vain, eyes blazed with bloodthirsty excitement.

"Now, take the dagger and cut your hand first, let your blood stains the blade before you slit his throat. Your blood has to mix with his when killing him." Instructed the acolyte of the necromancer.

Legolas did as he said, hiding the newly carved incantations on one side of the dagger from the bard's prying eyes. 

As he raised the blade, Feandir started to chant again. The dark energy twirls into a raging cyclone around them, and an ambient and ominous vibration prickled up every hair on the two elves' body.

This was the moment that Legolas was waiting.

Before the Wizard left, he gave Legolas some insight into the very nature of magic waging: Magic is the art of secrecy, and there is a reason for it. As the art consumes tremendous attention and will power, and while a sorcerer is accomplishing a complicated ritual, they are more vulnerable than usual and are easier to target. Hence before the ritual begins, the sorcerer often seeks a safe place and wears many protection amulets.

And if they wanted to kill Feandir, this was the best time.

The dagger dug into a warm flesh with a short, crisp sound. And yet it was not Haldir who was harmed.

The Prince stabbed the blade deep into Feandir's chest, deep enough to puncture his heart. He stared into the false bard's surprised eyes with pure abhorrence, thin lips quivered with adrenaline.

The engraving on Legolas's dagger was created by the Wizard before his departure. It should block the sorcerer's magic temporarily and prevent him from healing himself.

For a fleeting moment there was only quietude. The only audible sound was Legolas's heavy breath.

Did he succeed?

All of the thorns and thistles fell to the ground and scattered into ashes. Haldir scrambled to Legolas's side, sword in hand, ready to fight if there was any complication.

But it seemed the deed was done?

Abruptly, Feandir started to laugh. His laughter was acrimonious and unsettling, echoed in the cavern like the wailing of a banshee. A cold hand grabbed the Prince's wrist, and the bard sneered, "do you think you are the only one bearing the mark?"

And then, something horrid happened.

In a blink of an eye, Legolas found that it was not Feandir standing in front of him.

Thranduil was looking down at him, the eyes that were brighter than the northern star now filled with shock and disbelief. In his chest, a familiar dagger jabbed in, and Legolas's own hand was still on the hilt.

"No...no no no no..."Legolas released the hilt in horror, but Thranduil's towering body was crumbling down. He tried to catch his ada, but he was smaller and couldn't stop the falling.

Legolas couldn't breathe, couldn't think. How was it possible? Why was Thranduil here? It was Feandir that he was killing wasn't it?

No no no...this was not happening. This could not be happening!

He held his ada in his arm, tremulous hands trying to stop the blood from running. Thranduil only stared at him constantly, so much sorrow, so much confusion. His lips moved several times, but only one word came out, "why?"

Legolas didn't know that he was crying. Tears gushing out and fell on the King's cheek as if it was the King who was weeping. Legolas tried to wipe the teardrops away but only left more blood on the beautiful face that he had always looked up to.

"Please...please ada! It will be fine, I will save you, I promise I will save you! Don't sleep! Don't leave me!!!" Legolas was raving in hysteria, and he held the King tight to his heart. However, no matter how tight he tried to grab his life, Thranduil's eyes slowly closed.

At the very moment, Legolas could hear the sound of his soul crushed into pieces.

Thranduil was dead. And he killed him.

**********

Haldir watched in fright as Legolas suddenly let out a shrill of agony and fell to the ground. His body went into a severe spasm, and his eyes closed.

Haldir heard the Prince calling "ada," but Thranduil was not here. What was happening?

No time to mind Feandir, Haldir flung himself to Legolas's side, but he could not find any wound, nor any source of the torture. He called Legolas's name, but the Prince could not hear him.

Feandir slowly drew out the dagger, dropped it carelessly on the ground. He smiled sweetly, finding the mental torture of the Prince very satisfying.

Notes:

So Thranduil didn't really die, its just a illusion that Sauron's mark emanated to torture a disobedient Legolas. I've edited a bit at the end to make it more clear.

Chapter 23

Summary:

defeat Feandir

Legolas was evidently in tremendous pain. Every thread of his muscle strained like a bowstring that was on the brim of rupture. His body was shaking and twitching uncontrollably as if he was a dying fish floundering on the dry land. The worst part was his howling, like the deepest pain vomited from the bottom of his heart, and he couldn't breathe. His face turned red quickly from lacking oxygen.

Haldir tried to hold him and confine him so that he wouldn't chock on his tongue, but other than that, he could do nothing, and the wailing was like a dagger jabbed into his heart.

"What have you done to him!" Roared Haldir outragedly.

Feandir laughed so innocently as if he had nothing to do with the situation, "I didn't do anything. It is his disobedience tormenting his mind."

Grinding his teeth, Haldir grabbed the dagger and plunged at the sorcerer with deadly intention. The Lorien elf was fast, so fast that a human's eye wouldn't have been able to capture his movement. There was no way the bard could have escaped it.

But his sword thrust into the air, and Feandir's body, which as solid as Haldir himself last moment, dissipated into flying shadows, swirling around him like clouds of soaring locusts. An uncanny buzzing sound crescendoed into a piercing screeching as if countless sharpened nails were scratching on thousands of pieces of slates.

The sound was incredibly unpleasant. It drilled into Haldir's ear and carved into his brain, sucking out all of his strength. He felt as if his iron grip melted into soft cotton and couldn't keep holding the dagger. 

Trickles of blood were oozing out from the Marchwarden's ear, but he refused to surrender. He bit his tongue so hard until he barely resumed some strength from the distraction of pain. He waged the dagger, repelling any of those dark shadows attempting to get to the Prince.

Suddenly, a sonorous and powerful voice interjected the whirlpool of cacophony, "that's enough, you degenerated evil pawn!"

A long staff heavily stamped on the ground, emanating waves of resonance and neutralized the buzzing sound in one clean sweep. Feandir's body reunified, and he gawked at the intruder with incredulous eyes, "No...you have left! I have been watching!"

Gandalf's solemn figure emerged from the dimly lited hallway. There was no shimmering light nor burning flame, but a profound and unmeasurable power was percolating out the old man's haggard veneer.

Haldir, who was still holding his place guarding Legolas, exclaimed with tremendous relief, "Gandalf! You are late!"

"The tunnels and dungeons under the Halls were terribly long and confusing, took me longer than I thought." The Wizard's worried glance darted at Legolas, who had fallen into a blissed coma, "how is he?"

"I don't know, "Haldir answered apprehensively, "he seems in a lot of pain, but I can't find any wound. "

"None of you can help him now." Vexed Feandir. His word dripping venom, yet his countenance stashed dreadfulness. He was afraid of Gandalf, for the Gray Wizard was one of the wisest beings of the Middle Earth.

"You shouldn't have come here." Gandalf closed in on Feandir, eyes that had seen too many vicissitudes of lives pinned the false bard in place, "who is your master?"

Feandir answered by turning into a gush of ghastly smog surging toward the Wizard. The darkness swallowed Gandalf for a fleeting moment, but then a beam of divine light flared up like the eruption of a dying star, tearing the mantle of the darkness down piece by piece. Feandir's agnizing shriek echoed in the spacious cavern, and he knew that he was overpowered. The shrewd acolyte of darkness tried to flee. He summoned up the magic of illusion and disintegrated himself into multiple wisps of shadowy wind, swirling toward different paths of the labyrinth-like hallways. 

A sharp sheathing sound reverberated from the cimmerian shades, and then Feandir's short yelp of pain came concomitantly. As Haldir and Gandalf rushing to the source of the sounds speedily, they saw many Elven guards and among them, a golden figure glowing in the dimness like the midsummer moonlight, looming over the wounded bard, suppressing the darkness down.

Thranduil slowly rose up. His sword punctured the bard's collarbone, nailed him to the marble ground like a specimen. Haldir was perplexed to find the Elven King here until the Wizard explained spontaneously, "I sent a note to him before I came to find you. I figured we might need some assistance."

Thranduil looked down at the scared bard, thunder and storm raging in his eyes. The moment Feandir was overpowered by Gandalf, his hold on the King's mind was broken, and Thranduil immediately felt as if a thick mucky blanket was lifted. The evermore echoing ominous whispers ceased, and for the first time in months, he could hear his own thoughts.

The revelation came in waves. He remembered his own callous words, his suspicions toward his son, his overwhelming jealousy and tormenting hatred toward the Dwarf Prince and the Lorien Marchwarden, and Legolas's sombre eyes, glittered with tears yet too proud to let them fall.

"You know, I sometimes wish to trade my place with her. At least you would have always remembered me."

A sharp pain erupted in the King's chest, and he wanted to claw his own heart out. How much had he scarred Legolas's heart and soul? And he couldn't even blame all of them on Feandir's magic. 

After the war and the Queen's depart, all he could see was lost and suffering. He indulged the anger, the despair and the fear of losing more for too long that they had become a part of him. He thought that had he no longer loved anyone, he wouldn't have experienced the horrid pain henceforth.

He had neglected Legolas for so long that it had become a habit, a norm that he deemed no need to break. He left his green leaf in the stark land of negligence, to endure all the loss, the loneliness and the longing for love with no one to confide to, no place to seek console.

"Where is Legolas?" Asked Thranduil in a strained urgent voice.

"He passed out."Rejoined Haldir. 

The King barged into the herb garden, finding his son lying on the dusty ground with eyes tightly shut. His once ever illuminating golden hair now bedraggled, and the once rosy complexion pale like a ghost. He carefully gathered Legolas in his arms, calling his's son's name with a long-lost lifetime's tenderness.

"Legolas, Legolas!"

As if a miracle had befallen this mishap-despoiled realm, the Prince's eyelids squirmed several times, struggled to lift a thin slit. The King's face was smitten into a soft halo of light and shadow in Legolas's blurry sight, but his cloudy consciousness could still grasp the familiar scent.

The smell of ancient sandalwood mixed with a hint of musk. Solemn, rich and profound. It used to calm Legolas down when he was an elfling, accompanied him to every sadness free dreamland.

"Ada, don't leave me..." Legolas's mutter was very soft and inarticulated, but Thranduil still managed to made it out. He hastily replied, "I'm not leaving you. I'm not going anywhere. Tell me where have you gotten hurt?"

But the Prince's consciousness had slipped away once again. No matter how many times Thranduil called him, there was no more response.

**********
Legolas wasn't sure when did the torture stop.

If there had had the notion of Hell on Middle Earth, he would have known that this was worse than hell. He had lived and relived at least thousands of nightmares. In some of them, he was tortured by Orcs. His limbs were torn off one by one, skin flaked off piece by piece with sharpened knives, and yet he couldn't die. Everything that was removed would have grown back like a tumour, and the pain would start again.

In other dreams, other worse dreams, it was Thranduil hurting him with his words and coldness. His father would tell him that he had never loved him, that Legolas was a burden, and that he wished that it was Legolas who died rather than the Queen. The King would also call Legolas shame of his house, because he was weak and profligate. Sometimes, Thranduil would say nothing, just fixed him with a dispassionate, indifferent stare, as if he was nothing but dust.

In the worst dreams, he hurt Thranduil. It was never intended, and he tried so hard to stay vigilant, but it would always end in the same way. He'd been hunting in the woods on a regular day, but the prey he targeted would have transferred into his father at the last second. Or he'd been killing Orcs, but his arrow would have changed its trajectory and pierced his father's chest. Sometimes he saw an enemy was sneaking up to Thranduil, and he couldn't save him. Other times he saved him, but it was too late. He had to watch his father die painful death hundreds of times.

Every time a new dream started, he would have forgotten all the previous ones, and thus all of the sufferings were real and new, never numbed by repetition. He wanted to die every single time, to stop all of these horrors and pain, but he couldn't give up his body like all elves could. He was cursed, marked, marred and tainted by an evil being evermore.

And then, it all stopped. Heavenly quietness surrounded him for a long eternal period, and then he was slowly elevated to sheets of shimmering, fluttering light as if he was underwater this whole time. He was gradually approaching the surface, and as his face emerged from the lake of the void, he realized that he was waking up.

As his consciousness reintegrated, the dreams and everything that happened in it was fleeting away like fine sand leaking from a grip.

He woke up to a warm, cozy room, surrounded by soft, cloud-like blankets. The fire was cracking in the hearth, and rosy-orange ambiance coated every furnishing, and a smell of herb mixes infused the air. 

There was no pain. In fact, he felt as if he had been sleeping for a long, long time, and his body was stagnated from immobility. 

He tilted his head and found Thranduil sitting in an armchair next to his bed, eyes covered by the sleeping haze. His ever so regal posture now crumpled into an awkward and uncomfortable position, and traces of exhaustion lingered on his elegant features.

For a while, Legolas just looked at him, feeling the whole scene familiar but unsettling. After the incident in Dul Goldor, when he woke up in the small village's bed, Thranduil was also by his side. He remembered that he was so happy and thrilled, but what happened next...

Why was he here? What happened? Did he and Haldir succeed? Did Gandalf come in time as they planed?

He tried his best to recall the past, but the last thing he could remember was pushing that dagger into Feandir's chest.

He didn't want to wake Thranduil. He'd rather just watching his father sleep. It was...peaceful. But he had to know what happened and if Haldir was wounded.

"Ada..."Only when he opened his mouth and tried to speak had he found how hoarse and dry his throat was. His voice couldn't have been louder than the buzzing of a bee, but Thranduil still perceived it and stirred. The milky cloud overcasting his eyes dispersed, slumberous gaze focused on his son.

"Legolas!" Exclaimed Thranduil in great relief, swiftly flung to the Prince's side, "how do you feel? Is anywhere hurt?"

Legolas stared in bewilderment as Thranduil touched his forehead to check if he still had a fever. Was he still dreaming?

"Legolas, talk to me!" Receiving no answer, the King's expression became more worried, and his voice tightened with a habitual commanding air.

"I'm thirsty." Answered Legolas, with an unsure tone.

Thranduil went to a nearby table to pour him some water and watched Legolas gulped down the whole cup. 

As the thirst was quenched, Legolas returned the cup to his father's extending hand with a morsel of shyness, and he asked hesitantly, "what happened? Where is Haldir?"

"Haldir of Lothlorien was mostly unharmed. Now he is resting in the guest-chamber. You have been in a coma for three days." Answered the King with an unreadable countenance.

Knowing Haldir was alright relieved much worry, yet there was still one more thing Legolas had to know, "and...Feandir?"

"He is locked up in the dungeon. Gandalf has set up necessary wardings to seal up his magic. He has been keeping silent since." 

Thranduil locked up Feandir? So...he had finally come around and believed him?

Legolas thought he was supposed to be satisfied by the news, but it only left a stale bitterness in his mouth.

"I am sorry."Said the King quietly.

Legolas was startled, eyes so big as if a deer caught in the lamplight. He wasn't sure he heard it right.

Thranduil continued, suddenly finding the embroider on one of the tapestries very interesting, "I should have known something in me was not right. I should have trusted you, no matter what."

Legolas opened his mouth but wasn't able to make a sound. 

Thranduil never apologizes...

He must still be dreaming.

"I..."

"I should go fetch the Wizard to examine your condition." The King interjected hastily, almost as if he was a little embarrassed and guilty. But before leaving, he gently pushed Legolas back down and tucked the blanket attentively and said, "don't strain yourself."

And the King was gone, left a very puzzled Prince behind.

Notes:

Here comes the intermission between angsts ;)

Chapter 24

Summary:

Why do all good things come to an end

Gandalf was prowling in the room with a solemn face, staring at the Prince in exasperation, "you fool!"

Legolas shrank a bit under the Wizard's scrutiny. He swallowed, "I didn't have a choice."

"Of course you've had a choice! You could have said no!"

"Then our plan won't work anymore!"

"I would have thought of something else! You impudent, reckless foolish elf!"

Legolas's eyes darted at the door worriedly, as he didn't want anyone to hear their conversation and report it to Thranduil. He had told Gandalf about the mark since the Wizard had sensed some darker magic residue resided in the depth of his mind, which caused him great suffering.

Legolas mumbled, "I can't even remember those dreams anymore, and I'm not feeling any pain. Maybe as Feandir was defeated, the mark was also revoked?"

"That will depend on how much control does Feandir have on the mark. I managed to seal it up for now, but if it was his master imprinted the mark, I'm afraid there is a possibility that he will use it against you in the future." Gandalf sighed, rubbing his forehead as if having a headache, "does your father know this?"

"No..."

"Great." growled the Wizard sarcastically, "I will have to find a way to inform him so that he won't rush to the dungeon and kill the corrupted elf. "

"Do you must?"Implored Legolas.

The Wizard was crossed," for Valar sake this is not something you can hide from him!"

"But I feel fine." Retorted the Prince, "You don't understand, he was nice to me...Valar know how long it's been since he has been so patient with me, and I don't want to incense him."

Legolas's forlorn expression softened the Wizard's grim heart, and he answered with a gentler voice, "All the more of a reason to tell him. You did it for him, after all. "

The Wizard observed the Prince's hesitancy for a while and then rejoined yieldingly, "I will give you three days to tell him yourself. Otherwise, I will do it for you."

As they spoke the door opened, and Thranduil strolled in, a warm milk cup in hand.

"Well?" Inquired the King, "is he alright? "

Gandalf glanced at Legolas meaningfully before turning to the King, "there is no imminent threat to his wellbeing for now."

Thranduil seemed relieved, yet he reserved his display of affection and kept on asking, "what about the spell residue you mentioned before?"

"I sealed it. However I will need more information from Feandir. "Gandalf grabbed his staff and walking toward the door.

Thranduil raised one side of his eyebrows, "you are going at this hour?"

Only then, Legolas realized that the light reflected in his room by mirrors was not golden sun rays, but rather silver moonlights.

Gandalf grunted, "I have no better thing to do anyway."

The Wizard exited, left behind a room of awkward silence.

Thranduil cleared his throat, came to sit at the bedside, and passed the warm milk to Legolas, "you haven't eaten for three days. I figured you must be starving. Though it is late and you have just woken up, I'm afraid too much solid food will upset your stomach."

Legolas accepted the milk with reverence and tentativeness and drank in small sips. His eyes darted at his father from time to time, as if making sure he was still here and not dissipating into the gloomy shadows.

Legolas was afraid that this would end at any time.

His father took care of him, focusing all of his attention on him as if he was important...As if they had skipped all these centuries of alienation and discrepancies, and he was still his ada's little green leaf. Had he known that selling his soul to some unknown necromancer could have exchanged for this, he would have done it many more times, without hesitation...

His obsession with his father was grown more and more twisted and morbid...Maybe he had tainted his soul long before the "master" marked him.

The soothing warmth was spreading in his body like scattered clouds, filling up his stomach morsel by morsel. He sighed in amenity, didn't notice that the rich foam lingered on his upper lip like a cute mustache.

Thranduil chuckled lightly, pointed at his own lip, "you got things there."

Legolas smiled blushingly and tried to wipe the milk foam away but didn't do it thoroughly enough. Thranduil spontaneously extended his hand, and used his thumb to wipe the last residue away.

The tactility of Thranduil's fingertip skimming over his lip sent a shiver of excitement through Legolas's body, and his heartbeat quickened so drastically that he worried that the King could hear it.

As if suddenly realizing how intimate the gesture was, Thranduil quickly removed his hand and straightened himself, "You should rest. I shall come to check on you tomorrow morning."

He took the milk cup from Legolas's hand and was about to stand up, though his son pulled his wrist gently and held him off.

Legolas was staring at him with wistful eyes, his lips open as if wanted to say something.

Thranduil encouraged, "yes?"

The Prince hesitated, expression filled with twirling emotions and fleeting thoughts. Then he lowered his head meekly and asked, "is it really over?"

Thranduil wasn't sure if Legolas was referring to the ordeals with Feandir or the estrangement between them.

"I should hope so." He answered nonetheless.

"What are you going to do with Feandir?"

Thranduil considered it for a while, "we still need to interrogate him for more information about his master. He will be confined in the most heavily guarded dungeon cell, with Gandalf's spell sealing his powers."

It agitated Legolas to think that Feandir was still in their realm, even terrified him a little, "He is very cunning ada, what if he managed to bewitch one of the guards to let him out?"

"Do you want me to send him away?" Contemplated Thranduil, "maybe I can deport him back to his homeland. Haldir of Lothlorien is a suitable choice for the task. "

Legolas bit his lip and shook his head, "There will be too many chances for him to escape...and I don't want to put Haldir in danger anymore. I've owed him enough."

"I will give order to all the guards, forbid them to talk or listen to him and report any anomaly. He will never leave the cell as long as I reign this realm." Claimed Thranduil grimly. But then his gaze softened like melting snow trickling down a floral field, his hand patted on Legolas's hand gently, "I will not make the same mistake again, don't worry too much. Now rest, I will be in the next room."

Legolas was in awe as Thranduil strolled out, for the King's chamber was definitely not next to his. The room next to his used to belong to his nanny and had been derelict for more than two centuries.

Did Thranduil move into it temporarily to look after him?

After all, Gandalf confirmed that the King had been tending to him for the past three days, even slept in his chamber.

The thought enraptured the Prince enormously, filling his withered heart with pristine delight like the first sweet rain on parched land. He lay in the dark, eyes wide open from the thrill.

Maybe everything will be ok after all, maybe even better.

Legolas was full of hope again.

**********
For the next two days, Legolas was like living in a dream.

Thranduil would check on him every morning, having breakfast with him in his room, and then he would visit again at night after he had finished all his kingly duties. They talked about many things, most of them state-related, but occasionally, they revived older memories.

They talked about how when Legolas was so young and small yet full of curiosity, he would ask about anything he saw in the forest and refuse to go back until all of his questions were answered. Though feeling impatient and slightly annoyed, Thranduil still managed to hold back his temper and indulged every question.

They talked about how mischievous and trouble making a juvenile Legolas was. When Lord Elrond and his two sons visited the Woodland Realm, Legolas, who eavesdropped on the twins' conversation about his father and was entirely infuriated by their irreverent commentary, put so much chilli pepper powders in their juice and almost caused a diplomatic crisis.

They also talked about how little Legolas refused to sleep until Thranduil read him a story, about how a toddler Legolas shambled into Thranduil's council meeting disregarding nanny and Galion's deterring, about how when they fought together against a small group of Orcs that they encountered on their trip to Imladris.

The invisible barrier between them was melting away, and Legolas could see it in his father's eyes. The King was no longer unreachable, no longer cold and impassive. There was affection, although subtle and reserved, glittering like starlight amidst the lonesome canopy.

Oh how he wished this would last. And maybe, just maybe, he could even hope for more.

"What's in your mind that induces such a beautiful smile?"

Legolas startled a bit and quickly turned to face the intruder.

"Haldir! Why didn't you knock?"

"The door was ajar so I thought it is an invitation." The Marchwarden sauntered in with his familiar charming smile. Haldir had been visiting him every day as well. The silver-haired elf had been apprehensive about the mark, but after seeing how jaunty and spirited the Prince was, his concern gradually dissolved.

Haldir walked to the window where Legolas was sitting and reading, admiring the other elf's delicate features glowing in the golden sunray. He could still remember only a couple days ago Legolas twitched on the ground in great agony and letting out the bone-chilling howling. Haldir had never heard any elf wailed like that, for if the pain had been too much, they would have given up their body and depart for Hall of Mandos. Since the day the sound had haunted him in his dreams, made him wonder what did Legolas see in his mind that could cause so much pain and suffering.

It was a miracle that Legolas looked so lively and healthy now.

"I'm thinking about going back to Lorien, as the matter here is almost settled." Said Haldir.

Legolas widened his eyes, "so soon? I haven't gotten a chance to thank you for everything. I was planning to steal my father's best wine from his cellar for you."

Haldir laughed heartily, "All the more reason for me to run away before the King finds out and strike me down with his thundering rage."

"Come on! He is not that bad!"

"You say so because you are not at the receiving end of his Kingly threats. Did he tell you that the other day he practically warned me not to break your heart. Otherwise he will haunt me down till the end of time."

"No way!" Legolas laughed loudly, "he would never!"

Haldir shrugged, "not word by word but close enough. Although, I am curious is there any possibility that I possess the power to 'break your heart.'"

Legolas sensed the deeper meaning in the latter sentence and was a little unprepared and startled, "are you asking me if I am in love with you?"

"I'm asking if there is a chance that you want something more than just sensual pleasure with me." Spoken Haldir with affection and candour, "because I am becoming fond of you. And I know that I am merely a Marchwarden and is no match to your status, but a heart wants what it wants. I want to know if I have a chance."

Legolas was speechless for a moment. He looked at the Marchwarden's handsome face and gentle eyes, unable to unravel his own tangled feelings. Haldir had certainly become important to him. The Marchwarden cared for him, comforted him and cherished him when he was at the darkest moments and doubting himself. If not for him, Legolas wasn't sure if he could have made it.

How he hoped that he could love Haldir instead. How he wished that he could control his own heart and desire. But he couldn't.

His love was given to another a long, long time ago.

Legolas inhaled deeply and then confessed in sorrow, "I like you and admire you, and you are very important to me. But...my heart has belonged to someone else. Someone I cannot have. "

Haldir's expression didn't change much, yet the cloud of wistfulness and melancholy overcast his blue eyes. His broad shoulder slanted a little.

Legolas lowered his head in shame and guilt and whispered, "I'm sorry...but there is just nothing left to give. "

"May I ask who she or he is?"

"I cannot say their name. For this is my own burden to bear." Legolas hated himself at this moment. Haldir helped him, yet he broke his heart.

"If it is unrequited."Tentatively, the Marchwarden continued, "don't you want to try to look somewhere else? Unrequited love will only torment you, is it not?"

"I don't think I can ever change even if I want to."Admitted Legolas hauntingly.

Haldir nodded quietly, trying his best to contain his sadness and loss. Maybe this was his nemesis, thought Haldir, for he had broken other elves' hearts in the past, and thus when he started to care for someone, to fall for someone, it became his downfall.

Haldir excused himself quietly and left the room, almost bumped into the King. The Lorien elf quickly musted up an apology and left without hearing a pardon, as if he was running away from something.

Thranduil was puzzled, as Haldir was usually pretty courteous. He entered Legolas's chamber and found a pensive son staring at the void.

"Lover's quarrel?" Inquired Thranduil with a hint of amusement, loitering to the stand nearby to pour himself some drink.

"We are not lovers." Answered Legolas quietly.

Thranduil raised his luxuriant eyebrows, and his tone hardened, "did he hurt you?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Do not defend him Legolas. I've heard rumours about his past history. And a leopard never changes its spots."

"No, ada!" Legolas stood up to face his father, "It was I broke his heart!"

Thranduil obviously didn't expect his son had the capacity to break other elves ' hearts. He thought about it for a short while and asked, "what happened?"

"Haldir confessed his feelings for me, but I rejected him."

The King perplexed, "why? You said you like him, and you certainly care for him."

Legolas was staring at his father with fieriness, "don't you know?"

The rhetorical question stirred something unsettling, dangerous yet familiar within the King's heart, and deep down, he probably had known why. But he couldn't go down that road again. It almost ruined both of them last time.

"No, Legolas, I do not know."

Ignoring the King's emphatically iterated denial, Legolas approached Thranduil with determination and longing and a trace of hope, "because I love you, ada! I can only ever love you! And I do not only love you as my ada, but also love you as a lover!"

Thranduil avoided Legolas's gaze, heart thumping frantically in his chest, "stop saying such nonsense! I have warned you!"

"Why can't we be together? No one else needs to know!"Legolas implored enthusiastically and grabbed Thranduil's hand, "you have some feelings for me, don't you? Feandir said I am your weakness, you must be having some feelings for me too, and that's why the necromancer decided to curse you with it."

"I love you as my son, and nothing more!" Thranduil shook off Legolas's hand, his glances were stiff and glacial, "Legolas, do not ruin what we have."

But Legolas was unwilling to give up. His pellucid eyes filled with fervent devotion and ardent obsession, his hand shivering with emotions, gently tracing the King's statuesque facial lines, "I tried, ada. I really tried to quench my desire and love for you, but it just won't go away. The harder I try to stifle it the brighter it burns. I can't love others because all I ever wanted is you...Please! Please love me! I don't care if I will burn for it!"

Thranduil was dumbstruck as Legolas confided feverishly. His son, his beautiful son was yearning for his affection, begging for his love. The pleading eyes glittering with passionate tears, and the lithe, slender body leaning into his arms with so much longing. How he wanted to press the body against his own, to hold him close and never let go. How he wanted to kiss those quivering lips, to take away all the pain and leave only pleasure.

Sensing Thranduil was not pushing him away, joyfulness burst into Legolas's chest. He held the King's face between his attentive hands, lifted his heels to kiss the pair of elegant lips that he had dreamed thousands of times.

Just as the two pairs of lips were about to touch, Thranduil suddenly broke out of his temporary weakness and pushed Legolas away, hard. Legolas lost his balance and fell to the ground, looking up at Thranduil with baffled hurt.

"I do not, and will not love you in that aberrated, indecent way! Not now, not ever!"Thranduil scolded sonorously, "If you ever dare to try this again, I will send you to the border and never see you again!"

Not wanting to see the devastating expression on Legolas's face, Thranduil darted out of the chamber.

Notes:

So the intermission ends, a new wave of angst here we go

Chapter 25

Summary:

When shit hits the fan...

The early summer wind blowing from the south embellished the northern woodland with splashes of thick and vivid colours. Oaks, beeches, spruces and firs extended their strong boughs like countless robust arms, bolstering up the heavy canopies of luxuriant leaves. Pristine sunlight sifted through small gaps between branches and leaves and scattered like the misty rain, gently caressing the flourishing wild orchids, buttercups, bluebells and primroses.

Legolas laid on a bough languishingly. His hazy, empty gaze drifted into the gleaming lights yet saw nothing. Although sunlight immersed him warmly as it did to everything surrounded him, his heart was a black hole that could never be illuminated by anything in this world.

He had to leave the palace as he was suffocating. Thranduil's short-lived fatherly affection was gone without a trace, repelled by Legolas's foolish confession. He wasn't able to see his father for the past two days, for the King locked himself up in his studies and refused to see anyone, including his son, especially his son.

Regret and numbness gnawed Legolas's heart, yet the damage was done, and he could do nothing to fix it. Why did he have to push? Why couldn't he just accepted the reality and took what he could get? After so many years...so many years!!! He'd finally gotten his father back, but he had to push!

And then, all was lost.

A persisting ache permeated his chest, and every breath he drew would exasperate it. He did not think that there was any physical problem with him. The ache was merely a sensorialization of his mental torment.

What should he do then?

What was the point of even doing anything?

He knew this was not right, to attach the meaning and worthiness of your whole existence to one person. It was sick and twisted and pathetic. But he just couldn't change it. It had become who he was, a rotten yet essential part that could not be excised.

Some shuffling sound came from below. Soon a familiar figure emerged from the dense shrubs.

Haldir looked at Legolas while brushing off leaves and twigs that caught up in his cloak, "you are surely hard to find in these woods." Complain the Lorien elf.

Legolas was surprised as he thought Haldir would never want to talk to him again. He supplely jumped off the bough and landed in front of the silver-haired elf effortlessly, yet he couldn't find the right word to speak.

It was Haldir who spoke first, "why are you hiding here?"

"I just want to get some sunlight." Answered Legolas perfunctorily, "why are you looking for me?"

"I am leaving the day after tomorrow, and I don't want to leave without a reconciliation." Admitted Haldir, his gaze genuine and soft, "I still want us to be friends."

His candour and kindness touched Legolas, yet the Prince felt undeserved for such kindness.

"Of course we will always be friends, for you have treated me with nothing else than respect and solicitude. It is I who shall seek your forgiveness."

"It is not your fault that you've given your heart to someone else." Haldir smiled temperately, "and I have to say, whoever is at the receiving end of your unrequited love is an ungrateful fool."

Legolas broke into a burst of uncontainable laughter, though it ended too soon as the grief of loss returned. Legolas lowered his head trying to hide his sadness, yet feeling his chin lifted by a tender hand.

"It bothers me to see you so unhappy. Is there anything I can do?"Asked Haldir.

"You have helped me in every way you can. I'm afraid this is my own burden to bear."

"Or maybe, you can come with me. Some fresh air and a new environment will do you good."

Legolas blinked, "come with you where?"

Haldir chuckled, "Lothlorien of course!"

"But...I have no cause."

"You don't need any cause as we are kins! The Lord and the Lady will gladly receive you."

Legolas considered the offer. His first reaction was to reject as the Woodland Realm was his home and where he belonged. And then a second thought came to his mind.

If he stayed here, only pain and torments would have awaited. And he would be tormenting not only himself but also his father, for he was sure Thranduil wouldn't want to see him for at least a year or two.

Maybe it was better for him to leave for a while, to put some distance between them, to give himself some time to bury the forbidden love.

"Okay."Answered Legolas with a determined smile, "I will come with you."

Haldir was surprised by the Prince's quick changing of mind, and his heart was full of joy. A beautiful smile blossomed on his handsome face.

**********
The next day's evening, Thranduil strode into the mostly empty training yard, eyes burning with anger.

Legolas was practicing archery alone. He had packed up a light travelling bag and was going to leave with Haldir the following morning. Yet he didn't feel like sleeping, for he had developed a weird fear for dreams since he had awakened from the nightmares.

He heard the King's tread yet didn't give any acknowledgement, just kept shooting arrows after arrows, hitting the centre of the target every time.

Thranduil threw the piece of note on him, "what's the meaning of this!"

Legolas paused for a second and then took another arrow from his quiver, "I wanted to tell you in person, but you won't see me."

"So you just decide to leave without even asking for permission?!"

"I've sent you a note, haven't I?" Legolas dropped his bow in annoyance. And the King did not like one bit of his son's newfound attitude.

Thranduil's deep, magnetic sound echoed in the training yard, "I do not permit you!"

Legolas finally turned to him, holding his fiery gaze, "why? I thought you'd be relieved."

"Relieved? You are Prince of the Woodland Realm, have you forgotten your duties to your people?!"

"I did not forget my duty for a single day, ada. Haven't I done enough? Haven't I been good enough?" Legolas's voice was cold, a kind of tone he had never used when speaking to the King.

Thranduil was taken aback by the stern and icy look of his son, yet he refused to let it hurt his feelings, "it is never enough, for it is your lifelong responsibility. The Ñoldor Elves are dangerous. They pretend to be noble and wise, play too many games and use everyone for their own purposes. Their pride and arrogance had caused enough pain among our kins. I do not want you to be affected and be used by them."

"Pride and arrogance?" Chucked Legolas sarcastically, "are you sure you are talking about Ñoldor Elves and not someone else?"

"Mind who you are addressing!" Warned the King with his intimidating stare and dignified posture.

"I know very well who I am addressing."

Thranduil squinted at the Prince and sneered, "you will not leave with those Lorien Elves!"

"Why do you insist on keeping me at your side when you don't even want me!"Legolas retorted with bitter frustration and anguish.

Thranduil knew that maybe Legolas's decision was the best for both of them, but the moment he opened the note, one thought repelled all other thoughts.

He could not let go.

He could not lose Legolas.

Legolas belongs to him, and no one, not even Valar, can take his son away from him!

"You are my son, and you should do as I say!"

"I am a grown Elf and a capable warrior just like you. I can make my own decisions!"

"A warrior like me? Fine."Thranduil walked toward a weapon rack and picked up a long sword, and then turned to face his son with such domineering, "if you can defeat me, then I will let you go."

Legolas widened his eyes, wasn't sure if his father was serious. But as the King's posture did not waver, Legolas's countenance hardened and picked up the two daggers he always used.

It was a quiet night as if time had paused for them and the air curdled. The father and the son stood opposite each other like two ancient statues.

For a while, everything froze in the suffocating silence.

Thranduil charged at Legolas. Long sword clanged with the daggers generating splashing embers. Legolas had only fought his father once or twice on the training yard, but it was ages ago, and he had almost forgotten how powerful the King was. The moment their weapons clash, he felt his wrists were shaking. Overwhelming force surging up his arm ruthlessly and forced him to back up.

How could a lean body contain so much power? He knew his father knew some illusional magic, but never fighting magics.

Legolas gritted his teeth and steered the sword to one side while escaping from Thranduil's attacking range. Yet the King kept coming at him as if he could predict Legolas's every single move. Suppleness, one of the Prince's greatest advantages in battle, was completely useless in the current situation.

After several rounds, he'd already known that he was no match to his father. But he refused to surrender just now. All of the hurts, the heart-broken, the longing, the jealousy, the fear, the disappointments and the cursed love...all those years of waiting to be seen by his father, of trying his best to be a perfect son, they were all crushing down at this very moment.

He would not surrender.

No matter how many times the King struck him down, Legolas always stood up and charged again. It was like fighting an unmovable mountain, unavailing, frustrating, almost ludicrous. But he promised himself that this time he wouldn't be defeated.

Clang, one of his dagger was struck away, flying out of reach. Legolas wielded the remaining one and leaped toward the King again, but the King's iron-like grip seized his arm. He struggled frantically, teeth bared like a frenzied animal. Thranduil roared in rage and tackled him to the ground, using his whole body pressing the Prince down.

And yet Legolas was still thrusting and wiggling like an indomitable fish. Thranduil had to pin both his hand and growled, "give up!"

"I hate you!!!"Legolas screamed at him.

And then, everything stopped. They looked into each other's eyes, breathless, feverish.

Without knowing who moved first, their lips clashed, tongue entwined, sucking and biting, fiercely and ruthlessly as if it was a continuity of the fight. It was like two thirsty creatures who had never tasted a drop of freshwater were drinking from a sparkling creek the first time---they didn't know how much they wanted it.

The compelling tide of lust and over repressed desire engulfed them like a mighty flood breaking down a dam, obliterating any debris of rational thought. Before they knew, they had begun to tear off each other's clothes. The crisp sound of fabric tearing and armour hitting the ground mixed with the heavy panting sounds as if two beasts were trying to tear each other apart, devouring the last bit of flesh on each other's bone.

Thranduil turned Legolas around, and bit hard on the Prince's shoulder, left a deep, blood-sipping bite mark. And Legolas, knowing it was his father holding him down, kissing him, marking him, was possessed by an unbearable craving for more. He moaned loudly, rose his hip eagerly to press at the King's hardened crotch. The Elven Prince was also rocky hard himself, all the adrenaline from fighting transmuted into sensuality, and he wanted to be taken, to be possessed, to be sent to the zenith of pleasure.

"I want you! I want you! I want all of you!!!" Legolas pleaded and pleaded, impatiently arched his back, "I want you now!"

Thranduil tore off Legolas's breeches, rubbing at the plumped buttocks, sighed into the pointy ear, "you will be the death of me."

"And you me!" Legolas turned his head to meet the corner of the King's lips, half kissing, half murmuring, "we will die together and never separate!"

Thranduil prepared the Prince as best as he could, as Legolas was getting more and more impatient. Fingers were not enough for Legolas. He wanted something thick, hot and long to penetrate him, to dig into the deepest place of his body just like the last time, on that thistle covered throne.

Finally, Thranduil entered Legolas's burning tunnel in one demanding and merciless thrust, and the Prince melted into a puddle of water under his tyrannical reign. He pounded into the gorgeous and wanton body, again and again, as if he wanted to take everything, to impale the other elf with all his might.

Legolas opened so wide for his King. His neck bent like a singing swan. His skin flushed with poppy-like crimson. And his once limpid eyes filled with hazy carnality.

They rocked back and forth, heaving on the ocean of sinful pleasure. Their lovemaking was primal and rough, full of longing, desperation and the fear of nemesis. Yet they couldn't stop.

It felt so right, so comfortable and satisfying as if they were coming home. Yet, it was forbidden by gods.

As they were consumed by uncontainable lust, doom had been impending fast. Their acute senses failed to register the approaching steps.

It was almost midnight, yet Haldir could not sleep. He was planning to pass some time in the training yard before sunrise and didn't expect to find anyone in it.

At first, he heard the blush-inducing moan and gasps and instantly knew someone was having fun in the training yard. As he was about to turn and leave, he heard a familiar voice called, "Please! Harder!"

Legolas...

Legolas...was with someone in the training yard...

Haldir knew that he should leave right then and there, but he wanted to know...

He wanted to know who did Legolas love.

Therefore he looked, and found in horror that the King was looming over the half-naked Prince, fucking into the tremulous body that Haldir cherished wholeheartedly. Pale moonshine enclothed those two perfect marble-like bodies, forming an uncannily beautiful scene that merged divine and degradation.

The next moment, Haldir drew out his sword and rushed toward the King in a fury.

He thought the King forced himself on Legolas because he could not think of other possibilities. Maybe it was the spell. Maybe some evil magic bewitched the King again. He had to save his Prince.

Until Legolas flung himself between his sword and the King, eyes wide and trembling in fear.

"No! Haldir!"

"Let me kill him!!!" Haldir roared, so much rage was burning through his vein that the King's deadly stare didn't deter him one bit, "he was hurting you!"

"No Haldir! Please! It is what I want!" Legolas pleaded in desperation, "He is the one I love!"

And the realization finally settled in.

Chapter 26

Summary:

Haldir found out Legolas's secret

Legolas watched the revelation unfurling on Haldir's countenance, and it soon evolved into incredulity and then horror, immediately followed by an almost unintentional and yet instinctual disgust.

"You love him?! For Valar sake he is your father!"

A sharp pang verberated in Legolas's chest. He had thought about many disastrous circumstances in which someone found out his secrete. He imagined all kinds of hatred, repulsion and condemnation, and they used to make him shivered in fear. However, when he witnessed all of them blazing in Haldir's limpid eyes that were always gentle and caring when directed to him, he felt much more pain and sadness than fear.

Haldir had become one of the most important people to Legolas, and now he despised him.

Legolas answered in a dry, haunted voice, "yes, I know."

The Lorien Elf's gaze darted between the half-naked Prince and the King, as well as the crimson love marks scattering on their fair skin. The air reeked of the thick carnal smell of sex, which made his face distorted by confliction, dismay, and the unmaskable disgust of beholding something dirty, rotten, and was purely wrong. He stepped back and reproved in a strained, broken voice, "you are sick...you both are!"

And Haldir sprung out of the training yard.

"We have to kill him." Said the King in an uncannily calm, glacial voice.

Legolas whipped his head toward his father, unbelievably, "what?!"

Thranduil stood up, swiftly tided himself up and picked up his sword in determination, "we need to silence him before he has a chance to tell anyone."

"No! He saved me! And he saved you too!" Legolas scrambled up to block Thranduil's way.

Thranduil's gaze was hard and unmoving, like the still air portending an impending storm. He clasped his hand on Legolas's nape and whispered in a husky voice, "do you know what will happen to us if this ever gets out? We will be shunned by all of our kin, including our own people. There will be no more place for us on Arda, and we will lose our honour and our home, forever wondering on strange lands with no place to return to. Is that what you want?"

Legolas flinched in fright, "no..."

"Then we will have to do it." Thranduil stroked his cheek gently, strands of profound sadness lurking in his icy blue eyes, "if we choose this love, then this is the crime we have to commit and the sin we shall carry forever. "

Love.

His father finally used the word LOVE.

Thranduil admitted it, acknowledged that it exists between them.

It was everything he'd wanted, everything he'd dreamed. Though he could not rejoice wholeheartedly, for the impending mishap shadowed his heart.

Legolas held his father's hand and beseeched him with urgency, "no, there must be some other way. Let me talk to him. He will not tell anyone for he cares about me. He wouldn't want us to suffer."

Thranduil scoffed at his naive words, "he used to care about you, but that was before you rejected him. Do you think he will still be capable of caring about you after seeing what he's seen?"

"But we are still friends, and he will listen to me! Please, ada!"

His son pleaded so miserably that Thranduil's will of iron and steel faltered a little. After all, he didn't want to commit kin slaughter without a legitimate reason as it was another unforgivable sin an Elf could have committed. He sighed in resignation and said, "I will give you one chance to talk to him."

"Thank you!" Legolas exclaimed as if just received a reprieve, and he turned to chase after the Lorien Elf.

He caught up with Haldir in one of the secluded courtyards, as the Marchwarden also wanted to calm himself first. Hearing approaching tread, he half drew his sword in vigilance and turned to find Legolas, panting slightly from running, looking at him with imploring eyes.

"Haldir, please listen to me..."

"How could you do this?! "Haldir was seething with confusion and ire, for in his eyes, Legolas was such a wonderful and innocent being that he could not associate him with such a foul crime: incest.

Legolas turned his head around to make sure there was no one near before he tried to move a few steps closer. He stopped when Haldir scolded, "don't come near me, you make me sick!"

The shimmering hurt in the Prince's eyes almost made Haldir regretted his harsh attitude.

Legolas took a deep breath and said, "I am sorry for what you've seen. "

"You are sorry?" Haldir gibed, "for what? Letting your own father...degrade you like that?"

"Please! Haldir...please don't tell anyone. We will be ruined!"

"Then why have you done it!"

"Can you control who do you love?"

Haldir stared at him so intensely as if trying to see through his soul. Legolas wanted to shrink under his scrutiny, shame and fear creeping up his spine like a slithering snake. He tried to justify it unavailingly, "we are not hurting anyone..."

"Did your father force you into it?"

"What?! No!" exclaimed Legolas, horrified, "how could you think so?"

"Because it is unnatural! And I don't believe you are so..." Haldir didn't finish his sentences, but Legolas could have finished it for him. Shameless, wanton, aberrant, depraved, filthy...anyone of them could have fit well for the occasion.

Legolas was trying his best not to let the humiliation and self-deprecation induced sourness rose up to his eyes, and he said, "but I am. I seduced him, Haldir. I have always wanted him, and when Feandir came several months ago and snatched something that I have wanted for so long yet cannot get, the jealousy was eaten me up. I tried and tried, and he has been resisting me, but I just can't..."

"Enough!" Haldir cut his word sharply, "don't use your disgraced word pollute my ears! "

Legolas shut up, eyes so big like a trembling deer.

Haldir diverted his gaze. In spite of his repulsion, Haldir still had no intention to hurt the Prince, for what Legolas had said was correct, you can not control who you love.

"I won't tell anyone." The Marchwarden finally promised in an apathetic voice.

Legolas relieved greatly, for he knew Haldir always kept his promises. However, he also discerned that their friendship had come to an end.

After tonight, Haldir would have never been able to look at him without thinking of him as a filthy incest abomination that tainted Elf's name and probably deserved to die. He had lost him.

All of the caring hugs, soothing whispers and authoritative orders filled with affections, all gone in the blink of an eye.

Tear oozed out of his eyes and trickled down his face. He tried to smile, but it only made his expression even more sorrowful.

"Thank you Haldir...Thank you for everything. "

Haldir watched Legolas's tear-stained face, still stunningly beautiful, still glowing like the silver moon in a dark night. He wanted to wipe away his heartbroken tear and hold his slender body in his arms one more time, but the other half of him just couldn't do it anymore.

Haldir turned and left, without saying a word.

And it was the last time they'd ever meet for a long, long time, until two hundred and twenty-six years later, Legolas entered Lothlorien again with the fellowship of the ring.

**********
Legolas wasn't sure where he was going. He was shambling through the dim-lit hallways like a pale ghost, hollow eyes weren't registering anything until he almost bumped into the King's chest.

Thranduil tentatively yet firmly grabbed his shoulder, observing his forlorn expression with concern, "Legolas, what happened? What did he say? Did he became aggressive or offended you?"

"No, he was kind enough. He promised that he won't tell another soul."

"And you trust him?" Thranduil asked grimly.

"He is an elf of honour. He always keeps his promise." Legolas answered listlessly.

The sombreness absorbed all the perpetuate gleaming vitality from the Elven Prince. Thranduil's heart ached for him, as he knew how close his son had become with the Lorien Marchwarden. Nonetheless, he was suspicious of Haldir.

The risk was too big. If the word had ever gotten out, Legolas would have been dragged down into the hopeless pit of condemnation with him. He could not let that happen. He would not allow anyone to hurt his green leaf (except himself, maybe).

He had to make sure, even if it meant he would risk his relationship with Lothlorien.

Thranduil extended his arms and pulled Legolas to his chest, holding him tight with determination. The powerful beating of the King's heart and the familiar smell of sandalwood and musk allayed the pang persisting in Legolas's heart. He grabbed the front of the King's robe tightly as if a drowning person clutching at the last salvation of a floating log.

"Do not be afraid, ion nîn. "Soothed the King, "I will not let anything happens to you."

"I am not afraid. Even if I am exiled, I still will never regret us. For you are my home and my everything."

Thranduil kissed tenderly at Legolas's forehead. A long lost warmth and affection filled his desolated heart as he had torn down all of his resistance and defence that had been tormenting him and his son. He had decided to surrender to Legolas's burning passion and to love the Prince as much as he might.

Althought they had been seen, Thranduil only felt relieved.

There was no point in denying and hiding anymore, as the worst had already happened.

"Let us go back to your chamber. A long sleep would help."Said Thranduil.

Legolas looked up at him wistfully, "will you stay with me? I don't want to be alone."

Thranduil nodded, gaze soft as the morning mist, "I will stay."

That night, Legolas slept in Thranduil's arms. He hadn't slept so deep and peaceful for centuries. Not a single strand of nightmare intruded his dreams. Thought he suddenly woke up sometime before dawn and found Thranduil was not in his bed, and there were lowered muttering came from the living room.

Legolas hastily got out of bed, peeked out of the bedroom door, and saw Thranduil was talking to Galion.

"You need to leave now to catch up with them, but it has to be done after they leave our border, yet before they are out of the forest. Leaves on one alive and no trace behind. Feed their body to the spiders if you have to."Instructed Thranduil remorselessly.

Galion looked troubled and confused, "My King! You are talking about committing Kin Slaughter!"

Thranduil's gaze hardened, "As I said, he had procured information that is confidential and will cost grave harm to this Kingdom. if you do not wish to obey me, then I shall do it myself."

"No!" Legolas burst out of the door and exclaimed, "no you can't kill Haldir! You promised me!"

Galion was startled, but it didn't faze the King. Thranduil turned to his son, voice slightly softer than when speaking to the butler, "go back to sleep Legolas, leave this to me."

The nonchalant tone ignited more horror and anger, and Legolas was shaking from furor, "You can't kill him! How could you go back on your words and scheme behind my back like this!"

"We can not risk it!!! Are you really that naive and put all your faith in an empty promise?! " The King's solemn voice vertebrated in the room.

Galion's bewildered gaze shuffled between the father and the son, as he had no idea what kind of confidential information the Lorien Marchwarden had procured. He was not expecting any of these when he came to report that the Lothlorien Elves were leaving.

Legolas closed in on Thranduil, blue eyes shimmered like cold fire, "if you want to kill him, then you will have to kill me first."

The softness in the King's eyes dissipated, "you dare to threaten me, ion nîn? You should have known how much I detest being threatened."

"I cannot let you do it." Insisted the Prince feverishly.

But Thranduil was obstinate and tough like the oldest oak. He stood up slowly and towering the smaller Prince, yet his order was directed to the butler, "Galion, prepare a horse, not the elk. I will settle the matter myself."

"No!!!"Legolas was so desperate and worked up, and all of a sudden, something in his mind was broken. It was a dam, a seal that was holding off something dark, thick and powerful. The darkness plunged down like roaring ocean and enveloped Legolas's mind instantaneously, and the familiar pain and nightmare returned with force ten folds stronger and tore the Prince's conscious mind into pieces.

Legolas let out a shriek of agony and then fell to the ground with eyes tightly shut, trickles of tear flowing out. His body was twitching uncontrollably as if something was hurting him in the utmost cruel way.

Thranduil's calm broke down instantly. He flung down to Legolas's side and held him in his arms, trying to restrain the spasm. He raised panicking filled eyes and commanded Galion in a horrified voice, "Go fetch Gandalf!Hurry!"

Notes:

Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos! <3

Chapter 27

Summary:

Thranduil trying his best to save Legolas

Thranduil laid Legolas down on the bed carefully, watching in dismay as his green leaf panting and shivering, cold sweat soddened his silk nightgown, golden strands stuck on his cheek and neck. Although Legolas had stopped the spasm, a fever was burning him up.

Thranduil covered him with a blanket and used a cloth damped with cold water to wipe his forehead, but other than that, he couldn't do much to alleviate the invisible pain that was hurting Legolas. Thranduil felt like his heart was put on a searing, red-hot iron plate. A distant memory of a gravely wounded Legolas being brought back from a battle revived like a sneering monster.

He remembered how scared he was when he saw a lifeless, blood-stained green leaf lying in front of him, knowing the beautiful blue eyes may never open again. He remembered the overwhelming panic of losing the last light in his life eating away his heart and soul bit by bit that he had to run to Imladris to seek the great healer's help. But when he brought back a healer，Legolas had already woken up. He was so relieved and happy, and he wanted to hug his son and kiss him on the forehead. But then another fear crept in.

What if this happens again?

Had he opened his heart and allowed himself to pour the remaining love that still existed within him onto Legolas, he would not have been able to survive this pain again.

He had lost too much. Almost everyone he loved had met a horrible death, and Thranduil used to think that Valar had cursed him since he was born. His mother, stabbed to death by dwarf spears in front of his eyes, her crying of pain was still echoing in his ears till this very day. His father laid in his arms, the once tall and strong and beautiful body now collapsed and broken, gashes so deep that you could even see his bones, and blood just kept running out from everywhere. His wife, his love of life, the Woodland Realm's cynosure, marched for Angmar and never returned. Her last smile before her departure was still full of hope, and her last kiss still lingered on his lips.

Thranduil was doomed to be alone. Anyone he loved, anything he cherished, fate would annihilate them all. So he tried to push Legolas away; tried to ignore the little elfling that followed him everywhere, to put on a mask of indifference so that his coldness would quench the affection-longing fire burning in Legolas's eyes, and to restrain himself from being too proud of his perfect son, who managed to grow up into a fierce worrier and a dutiful Prince all by himself.

Yet no matter what he did, no matter how distant and impassive and overbearing he was to his son, Legolas still loved him. Why was the Prince so persistent in loving him Thranduil knew not, but little by little, the glacial fear that existed within him began to melt, and after that fateful night in Dol Guldur, something that had been hibernating under it resuscitated and transformed and grew into an eerie, seductive and sinister flower.

He thought, maybe this time fate would turn a blind eye. Maybe he didn't have to be alone any longer.

But he was wrong.

It was happening again. He could feel it.

He direly clasped Legolas's hand in his, and the usual composure crumpled asunder. Free-flowing vulnerability soddened every angle on his face, flushing away all the masks he had put on himself. He was praying to the Valar when Gandalf entered, and he did not attempt to hide his panic.

"Gandalf! What is happening to him?"

The Wizard swiftly came to check on Legolas. His warm hand covered the Prince's forehead, gleaming ominous light swirling in his deep blue irises. Gandalf's magic sipped into Legolas's mind, and as it went deeper, his brows creased and his face overcast with pensiveness, "the seal I created was overpowered and broken by the mark. As I suspect, it is a very strong mark clutched on his soul, and it appears that negative emotions can be synchronized with it and empower it. Legolas must have been in great distress and triggered the mark to react."

Thranduil was dumbstruck, "mark? What mark?"

Gandalf looked at him with wide eyes, "he didn't tell you? When you refused to see anyone, I thought he had informed you of his foolish past decision."

"No! He never mentioned a mark!" A foreboding feeling seized the King's heart in its cold and venomous claws.

Gandalf sighed in dismay and proceeded to recount Feandir's deal with Legolas. Thranduil was quiet, too quiet. He stared at the pallid figure who was trapped in a non-physical world of horrible suffering helplessly, and sensed that something within his chest shattered into a thousand pieces.

So it was all his fault.

Legolas did all of it for him.

He was too weak to withstand the corrupted elf's enchantment and turned a deaf ear to Legolas's pleads. Legolas tried so many times to tell him the truth, but he wasn't listening. Worse, he doubted his son's loyalty and broke his heart with harsh unadjusted words. He recalled all of those callous and cruel things that he said, and they made him cringe.

In desperation to earn back his father, Legolas sold his soul. And it was Thranduil himself who drove him into doing it.

Furthermore, he triggered the mark. If only he was less stubborn and listened to his son for once in his life, this would not have happened.

It should have been him to suffer, not Legolas.

The King crumpled to the side of the bed with shimmering tears threatened to spill out. His lips quivering, "what's the torment like?"

Gandalf didn't answer, but the sorrowful expression on his face was a clear enough clue.

"I want to know."Thranduil muttered, "Is there a way to know what is happening in his mind?"

"I can show you some snippets, for I can only peak through the narrow crevices of the mark. But...I doubt you will want to watch. It won't help him in any way and will only bring you unnecessary woe," dissuaded the Wizard.

Thranduil answered in a hollow yet steadfast tone, "I have to know."

Gandalf studied him for a while and knew then that it was inevitable. He acquiesced to Thranduil's imploring and approached him, extending his hand to touch his forehead. Low and sonorous enchanting reverberated in the room and even the stone walls were resonating with it.

As the Wizard's chanting echoed in the King's mind, his sight blurred and smeared into a cloud of muddled mist. Then, the mist began to dissipate, revealing a scene of heartbroken.

Legolas was holding him, another him, who was covered in blood, with several arrows duging into his chest. They were in the middle of a battlefield. Fire and smog were blanketing the sky, and the smell of burning bodies and spreading blood were reeking the air.

Thranduil watched Legolas crying out his heart, and his body rocked back and forth like a lost child, refused to let go of his father's lifeless body.

"Please, do not leave me! Please take me with you!" Legolas repeated again and again, with incessant uncontrollably choking, "I want to die...please let me die!"

The wailing was so full of desperation and agony that it evoked the darkest memory and grief in Thranduil's heart. He never knew that the mere sound of weeping could have torn his heart apart.

But it was just the beginning.

He saw Legolas being hanged up in a dungeon and was whipped bloody by Goblins until there was no single piece of undamaged skin left on the Prince's slender body. He saw Orcs torn out his son's nails one by one while Legolas tried his best not to scream. He also saw a little elfling Legolas held a piece of his birthday cake in his hand, standing outside of Thranduil's door nervously, tentatively knocked the giant oak door, but received only the King's cold rejection. Thranduil saw his son ate the cake alone in the dark while crying quietly, the binary tear mixed with the sweet cream, and it would be the only taste of a cake that Legolas would remember, for that had been the last birthday cake he ever ate.

His green leaf woke up from a nightmare, only found himself in another one, over and over, endless suffering, endless pain.

He was yield back by a great force, and all the scenes went back to the mist. Thranduil blinked his eyes and realized that he was back in Legolas's chamber, face stained with tears. His breath was laboured, and a dull ache suffused his lungs as if a giant stone was pressing down on his chest.

Gandalf clasped Thranduil's shoulder gingerly, "are you alright?"

Thranduil struggled to get a hold of himself as he wiped away the tears hastily, and he asked, "is there a way to remove the mark?"

"I have never seen anything like this before."Admitted the Wizard, "and I have been trying to get some information out of Feandir for days. He hasn't uttered a single word."

Thranduil stood up abruptly and moved to the door. Gandalf asked, "where are you going?"

"The Dungeon." Answered the King.

**********

Feandir smiled sweetly to the King. In the gloomy dungeon that full of shadows and whisperings, he still gleamed like a pearl under a dark sea, and not a trace of evil could be found on his deceivable innocent appearance.

"I knew you would come." Feandir's melodious voice echoed in the vast cavern. It was the first line of words that he had uttered since he was wounded and imprisoned.

Thranduil stood tall and dignified in front of the cell, "then you should know the purpose of this meeting."

"How does the Prince fare?"

"You will tell me once and for all the method of removing that mark. Otherwise, I swear to Valar you will suffer!" The King's voice was so dark and intimidating and his posture so dominating that even the strongest man would have been trembling under his scrutiny.

Feandir laughed merrily, "do you think anything you do would have been worse than what the mark will inflict on me if I say anything? "

"I may surprise you."Thranduil sneered.

Feandir gracefully raised from his bed and leaned on the wooden door. Dark eyes stared at Thranduil through the gap, "the mark tortures him only because he resists my master's command. However, if you would follow my instruction and look into the seeing stone like your son did, and swear your loyalty to my master, then it will please him, and he may pardon your son's subordinary attitude."

"I will do no such thing."Calmly claimed Thranduil.

"Then there is nothing I can do for him. For it was not me laid the mark, and as I said, it is permanent, and no force in this world can remove it except my master."

"And if your master is destroyed?"

Feandir laughed loudly as if he just heard a funny joke, "my master is invincible."

"Nothing is invincible. Even Morgoth himself can be defeated. And once he was gone, all of his spells lost power."Thranduil paced slowly in front of the cell, "Don't you desire freedom? Tell me who your master is and his whereabouts and I will set you free. Once I kill him, you will be free of the mark too."

"You cannot kill him. No one can."Whispered Feandir, "you will only bring destruction to yourself and your people. And I'd rather rot in here for a thousand years than contravening my master's order."

Thranduil could see the suffocating fear haunting Feandir's soul, and he understood that there was nothing he could get from this corrupted elf of evil. For it was not malic but terror driving his deeds.

As he suspected, no matter what kind of cruel punishment he threatened to bring down on Feandir, the latter never uttered another word.

He left the dungeon in great dismay and apprehension. He had to do something to stop the torture fast because every passing second was a lifetime of suffering for Legolas, yet he had no direction at all.

He rushed to the Library to look for all the tomes about ancient magic. He waged illusion magics occasionally but had not much knowledge of dark magic at all. And deep down his heart, he knew that his frantic search was in vain, for Gandalf was one of the most knowledgeable beings on middle earth, and if even he hadn't had a solution, none of these books could have done much.

Gandalf found him among the mountain of books and suggested, "I shall depart for Imladris to seek Lord Elrond's help."

"It will take too long! He won't be able to sustain for so long without going mad!"Thranduil uttered in despair, and just then, an idea suddenly struck him, and his eyes lightened up.

"I can share it with him." exclaimed the King.

Gandalf looked at him in confusion.

Thranduil quickly opened a medicine spellbook and flip through the pages until he spotted the spell of empathy. It was an Elven healing spell used when the subject was in unbearable agonies, like giving birth or being greatly wounded. A close relative or spouse of the subject would usually volunteer to bear the pain with him or her for a short period, and thus the pain will be subdued considerably. It was usually performed on physical injuries, but there must be a way to transform it and make it works for the mind.

"Is this viable?"

Gandalf contemplated carefully and grumbled, "it is possible. Though I do not think it is a good idea. The pain Legolas is experiencing is tight to the mark, and we do not know if it will affect you in some unforeseeable ways. Besides, even the original spell must be performed with care and limited within two or three hours maximum. If you choose to bear the mental suffering with Legolas during my leave, it will last a month at least. Are you sure you are ready for that? "

"If I cannot take it away from him, at least I can share it with him, to alleviate some of his burdens." Rejoined Thranduil resolutely, "it is my decision, and I will accept whatever consequence comes with it."

Chapter 28

Summary:

Elrond came to help.

Thranduil stood in front of the window, looking down at the quiet garden drenching in the surreal summer starlight, which was pouring down directly from an opening on the doom of the cavern. He could hear celestial song echoing afar and then remembered it was Midsummer Festival on that very night.

Every year Wood Elves feast on this night, celebrating the boon of nature, singing and dancing under the water-like starlight. But this year, there was no feast. A great pensiveness clouded over everyone's heart, for they all worried about their beloved Prince.

Someone entered the room. Thranduil turned around and met Gandalf's sombre gaze. The Wizard produced a small vial of freshly made herbal potion and said, "are you sure about this, Thranduil."

The King accepted the vial with determination, staring at the dark green liquid rippling under the cold glass. The potion would enhance his sensations and open his mind, enabling the empathy spell to build a connection between him and Legolas's mind.

"I know what I am doing. Do not worry."Reassured Thranduil.

Gandalf, though obviously wasn't convinced, charged solemnly, "You may experience nightmares or even hallucinations. Just remember, do not trust what you see or hear. Hold on to the best memories in your heart and never let go."

Thranduil nodded and then drank up the potion with a tilting of head. The bitterness grazed across his tongue and left a tingling sensation at the back of his throat. He then proceeded to lie down on the bed next to Legolas. He found his son's inanimate hand among the velvet blankets and tenderly twined their fingers.

"I am ready." Said the King.

White light spurted out of the Wizard's staff like a new born star, and it saturated the room with divinity and pristineness. Gandalf's chanting was resounding like a distant storm, weltering in the sea of light, calling and drawing Thranduil's conscious mind to an ominous direction.

At first, Thranduil felt nothing. The indefinite waiting and pending anticipation started to irritate him after a while, until he heard a familiar sound, soft like a floating feather scattering down in the moonlight.

"Thranduil, my son, you have to listen to me carefully."

Thranduil opened his eyes and looked into a pair of cornflower blue eyes that was so far gone and yet familiar. His mother, fair skin glowing like the moon and long golden wavy hair almost touching the ground, so beautiful that even the stars would blush in front of her comely smile. But now, there was no smile, only sorrow. And she was wearing armour rather than a silky dress.

"Nana?"Thranduil asked in confusion, as his mother died thousands of years ago under the thousand caves of Doriath. He was startled by his own voice, as it was not his usual resonant voice, but rather thin and young.

"You have to be a good son for your father, listen to him, helping him to find a new home for our people. Can you do that for me?" She asked solemnly.

"Yes mother, I will do anything you say."Thranduil heard himself answered, but a foreboding feeling was bubbling up in his stomach. He forgot that he was not a young elfling, forgot that he had become a King. At this moment, he was just his mother's son. Rumbling sounds were reverberating from afar, and everyone around them was yelling and crying and panicking. Young Thranduil was scared.

"What is going on nana?"

His mother answered with a kiss on his forehead, a kiss full of despair and sadness.

"I love you. Never forget that." She whispered.

And then, there were screams and roaring. The dwarf army burst into the cave like a dark raging flood. A sharp sound slashed the air and the next thing Thranduil know, his mother's body shook violently as she hugged him, shielding him from a flying arrow with her own body.

"Nana!"Thranduil's eyes widened. Horror seized his heart.

Nana was going to die.

He had never thought of that possibility before that day. A mother is like a beacon on the shore for a child. She is a constant presence that grounds the whole world around them, helping them understand the universe. A young one could not understand a world without such a presence. It would be like a world without a ground.

"No!!!" his father Oropher, who was covered in blood and wound, rushed to their side and held his wife unavailingly. She thrust Thranduil into Oropher's arms and yelled in urgency, "go! Protect him! Promise me you will protect him!"

The Dwarves were closing in, slaughtering their kin like barbarous monsters. There was no time left even to say a proper goodbye. Oropher could only answer in tears, "yes, I promise you I will protect him with my life!"

"I will hold them off. Go now!" His mother commanded, and her lithe body generated endless power and strength. With an arrow on her back, she picked up her sword and plunged into the bloody battle. Thranduil was carried away by Oropher, but he was still facing his mother the whole time, and he saw it.

A dwarf sneaked up to his mother and stabbed that blood-stained, flesh hanging spear into her back. And she let out a bone-chilling wailing. Thranduil had never heard a screeching more shrilling and scary, and he could almost feel the same pain exploded in his own body as another dwarf stuck her again.

Again and again, they kept stabbing his mother, and her once tall and lithe body now was pined by at least seven spears, like a butterfly trapped in the net of death. She was still not dead yet and was howling in pain, choking on blood. It was a horrible death, painful and messy.

And Thranduil had to watch, the mother who gave him life, who kissed his forehead every day before sleep, who made him the most delicious fruit tart, who played with him and taught him how to dance in the courtyard, dying the most horrible death, and he couldn't do anything.

He couldn't save her, couldn't avenge her. All he could have done was screaming.

And he did. He screamed and screamed and screamed until...

"Thranduil! Wake up!"

Thranduil suddenly snapped out of the hallucination and realized that he was indeed screaming. His cloth sodden with perspiration, and his throat was scorching. He panted as if he just ran ten miles nonstop and feeling slightly nauseous.

Gandalf's hand firmly planted on his shoulder as if he was pressing him down. Making sure the King was conscious now, the Wizard slowly exhaled.

"Whatever you saw, it was not real, Thranduil. You cannot let it take control of your mind. Otherwise you and Legolas both will fall into the darkness."

"It was real. I saw my mother's death." Thranduil sat up, hand covering his forehead. All the images were so vivid and immersive. He could smell the blood, feeling the heat and the vibrating in the air. How could anyone differentiate such a nightmare from reality?

What is reality anyway? Isn't it constituted by countless fleeting moments and reconstructed memories?

"If I share this with him, then how come I can wake up from it, but he cannot?"Inquired the King.

"Because the mark has a tight hold on his mind, preventing him from waking up. You are his only connection to reality now. Though he cannot wake up, he will feel less pain and have more peace in his dreams. "

Thranduil studied Legolas's countenance closely and, noticing the Prince's countenance did appear to be less afflicted, sighed in a trifle of relief.

Gandalf put on his pointy hat and said, "Try your best to stay vigilant. The longer you stay in reality, the more time you are buying for him. I will ride for Rivendell tonight and will be back as fast as I can."

Gandalf then left for a month, and a month Thranduil held on to his precarious consciousness hanging on a precipice over the abyss of madness for both himself and Legolas.

It was the worst kind of torture. Even though the hallucinations were false, their pain was real. The dark force would pluck from all his darkest memories and fear and assembled them into sundry twisted scenarios, and he had a lot of materials for it to pick.

All of those lost love, the irreparable disasters and the heart-wrenching sorrows that were buried deep into the grave of his mind now all dug up. He wasn't sure when the nightmare would hit him, it could happen during his short naps, or when he was reading letters, or even when he was merely walking through hallways. They merged perfectly with the surrounding situation and often attacked when he was less vigilant.

He did what Gandalf told him, unearthed all the joyful memories he could find within his Labyrinth-like mind palace. The problem was many of those good memories were intricated with traumas. When he thought about childhood good times, he then would remember the fall of Doriath and his mother's death. If he tried to recall the good old times when he helped his father, King Oropher, teaching the Wood Elves new knowledge and techniques of forging tools or weapons, then the phantasm of ada and his people slaughtered in the Last Alliance would manifest its horrid shape. While he sought conciliation from his sweet memory of the late Queen, the pain of losing her followed concomitantly.

Of all of these memories, only those recollections that connected to Legolas wouldn't trigger any distraughtness. Soon it had become the only haven for his tormented mind. He remembered when he first held Legolas in his arms. The little elfling was so delicate and perfect yet so fragile, and his heart filled with overwhelmingly joyfulness and protectiveness. He also recollected many times when he played hide and seek with his green leaf in the woods, and the little thing could hide so well in the leaves that though he could talk to the trees, it was still a challenging task to find his son. He recalled that time when Legolas vindictively put hot pepper powders into Elladan and Elrohir's wine. When reproved, his adolescent son stood tall and straight in front of him and Elrond and grimly stated that no one can disrespect his ada. In spite of his calm countenance and superficial reproach, Thranduil was so proud of his son that his good mood lasted a whole month.

And there were so much more memories that he thought he had already forgotten. He remembered the time when Legolas followed him to visit Lord Elrond. It was the only time they'd ever travelled together, and the excitement gleamed in Legolas's eyes like countless stars in the summer night. And the time Legolas defeated the strongest warrior in his army during a stately match, the Prince was so nervous and out of breath as he accepted the laurel from Thranduil's hand that he turned red and stuttered cutely. And there was also the time Legolas got drunk at the Starlight Feast, worrying that his son would be taken advantage of in the intoxicated state, Thranduil ordered Galion to take him back to his chamber. But the Prince insisted on the King himself coming to take him, and when Thranduil reluctantly assumed the task, his son actually went out of his way to request the King to tuck him in and tell him a story before he went to sleep, just like when he was an elfling.

All of these benevolent memories became Thranduil's salvation in the direst moments. He savoured them, cherished them, and then he knew that he could not lose Legolas. The fairest green leaf in the Woodland Realm had become his last lifeline, the only beacon shining in the everlasting darkness.

Thranduil moved back to the room next to Legolas's chamber and spent most of his time with his sleeping son. He attended every trivial task as if trying to make up for all the lost years when he indulged himself in seclusion and self-pity.

He tried his best not to fall asleep through the whole month, as the dreamland had become the most dangerous place in this world.

When Gandalf came back with Lord Elrond by his side, Thranduil was on the brim of collapsing, for he hadn't slept at all for the past ten days, and the boundary between dream and reality began to blur. And Legolas just had another vicious spasm attack, more vicious than any previous ones, and his crying and wailing shredded Thranduil's heart asunder. Thranduil knew not what kind of terrible tortures were Legolas experiencing in his dream. All he could have done was to clasp his son's hand tightly, gently kissing the fingers and whispering fragmental prayers.

"Please, Legolas, hold on...Don't give up."The King beseeched with heart and soul, "do not leave me. Valar, please save him, don't take him away from me..."

Then Galion was knocking on the door and telling him Gandalf and Lord Elrond had arrived. Thranduil rushed out of the room to meet them, not even bothering to change cloth and tidy his appearance. Days of exhaustion dulled his sapphire eyes, and his once glamorous appearance faded into pallor and withering.

Lord Elrond, who was one of the greatest healers and had seen many forms of damage, was startled by his languishment, as the last time the Elven King was like this was after the Queen's demise, and he worried that Thranduil was fading.

"My friend, what had happened to you." The Elven Lord murmured in stupefaction.

"It is not me you should worry. "Thranduil hastily rejoined, "Legolas's situation worsens every day. I'm afraid he will go mad even if he wakes up."

They gathered around Legolas's bed, and Lord Elrond examined the Prince carefully. His furrow deepened, exchanging portentous looks with the Wizard.

"It is a strange mark indeed. I haven't seen any magic like it before, yet there is something familiar about it. I cannot pinpoint."

Gandalf agreed, "I've tried to remove it, but it had a stronghold and won't come off. I'm afraid the only option is to seal it., but after the first breach of the sealing, the power of the mark has already begun to spread through his mind and soul. I am less familiar with the spells working on Elven fëa. That is why I seek your aid, Lord Elrond."

"It won't be easy. I will have to isolate a big chunk of his fëa that is attached to the mark. And there could be unforeseeable consequences."Warned Elrond.

Thranduil implored urgently, "as long as you can save him from this torment, I will provide anything you need and accept any possible consequence. Just...save him, please!"

It pained Elrond to see the usually proud and dignified King plead so helplessly. He softened his expression and tone and reassured, "I will exhaust all my knowledge to bring him back."

"Meanwhile, you need some rest yourself." exhorted Gandalf, "you look like a ghost."

"I shall stay by his side until he is well."The King insisted, "it is better for both of us. My dreams are not pleasant places recently."

Elrond began his treatment immediately. He wrote down a long list of herbs and ingredients, and they were gathered and ready for usage within an hour. For the next ten long hours, the sublime chanting of two low grumbling voice resonated in the gloomy and empty hallway, and the thick smell of mixed herbs fomented the air. Galion paced outside of the chamber restlessly, worrying about both the Prince and the King. And all the guards and servants lightened their steps as if afraid of disrupting the healing ritual.

Before dawn, the ritual finally finished. Both Elrond and Gandalf were completely drained, but the Prince had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, and although still pale, Legolas's mien no longer tightened with agony and pain.

Thranduil, looking no better than his son, sat on the bed observing Legolas's complexion closely, trying to find every tiny detail that indicated his son was safe. He brushed away a strand of hair from Legolas's forehead and then tested his temperature with the back of his hand.

"The fever has gone." Relieved the King, "but why is he still sleeping?"

"Give him time." Elrond consoled him in a benevolent voice, "and you should get some sleep too. We should remove the empathy spell from you."

"No, just leave it there." Said Thranduil quietly, "since the mark is already sealed with a stronger spell, it shouldn't be causing any more pain to him, then I won't feel anything too. And if anything goes wrong, I will know immediately. It is better to keep it on me."

"This is absurd! Never have I heard anyone keeps empathy spell on for so long, it is too dangerous!" objected Gandalf.

Elrond also exhorted, "It is not necessary, my friend. The empathy spell does not only associate with the pain caused by the mark. It links to all the pain Legolas experiences, and the longer you keep it, the more likely something will go wrong."

But Thranduil was obstinate as always and refused to listen, "I have made up my mind. No need to worry about me. Thank you for helping my son. You and Gandalf have my greatest gratitude, and if there is anything I can do for you..."

"Don't mention it. I am very fond of Legolas and will not see him suffer." Smiled Elrond, though there was worry lingered in his dark eyes.

**********
Legolas woke up at dusk. He slowly opened his eyes, feeling a bit weird as he never sleeps with eyes closed. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his sore limbs. The bed was warm and comfortable, but he felt a little rigid.

"I must have been sleeping at the wrong side..." Thought Legolas, yawning loudly, and then suddenly realized that he was not alone in his bed.

He turned his head and saw his father's sallow yet still breathe-takingly beautiful face. His lithe but strong body leaning against the headboard, eyes unfocused in sleep.

Legolas rubbed his eyes again, couldn't believe what he saw. His heartbeat rose up to an alarming speed as if the heart was about to jump out of his throat, and his face was burning with excitement and coyness.

Why was ada in his bed?

As if feeling the confusion and exhilaration in Legolas's mind, Thranduil blinked. His sleepy, soft gaze soon focused and swiftly replaced by the familiar sharpness, and he was...worried?

"Legolas! You are awake!"

"Yes?" Legolas answered bewilderedly, "why are you here, ada? Oh! What time is it? Am I late?"

Thranduil was baffled, "late for what?"

"The Lothlorien Ambassadors are leaving this morning, right? Are we not going to bid them farewell?" Legolas tried to jump out of bed, but dizziness seized him, and he had to grab the bed pole to steady himself, "I must have been drinking too much last night."

And then, Thranduil suddenly understood the situation and the unforeseeable consequence that Elrond referred to:

Legolas's whole chunk of memory was sealed with the mark. For his son, it was only the next day after the Farewell Banquet many months ago.

He didn't remember the night in Dol Guldur, didn't remember Thorin's arrival; didn't remember their quarrels; didn't remember his time in Lorien with Haldir; didn't remember his deal with Feandir; didn't remember the night at the training yard, when Thranduil finally succumbed to his desire and accepted the doomed love...

For Legolas, nothing had happened.

Notes:

My chapters are getting longer and longer XD. We are approaching the five armies timeline, so Thorin will show up again with other 12 dwarves and his Bilbo (and stir up some troubles as always), and then finally Aragorn will come along in about three or four chapters~

Chapter 29

Summary:

Life went back to somewhat normal...

Thranduil gawked at Legolas. Word failed to come to his lips. What should he say when Legolas couldn't remember a thing about...them, about everything?

Should he tell him? Should he not tell him? How much should he say? What consequences would each option lead to? So many questions swirling in Thranduil's mind like the onslaught of a cyclon, and after a while of suspenseful silence, he asked the confusing Prince, "what is the last thing you remember?"

Legolas furrowed. His father was acting weird today.

"After the banquet I found you in your study, we chatted, and then I came back to my room to sleep. Why? Did something happen with the Lorien diplomatic group?"

Thranduil quietly rose up. His eyes eluded the Prince's gaze, and he uncharacterizedly staggered once while walking toward the exit.

"I will go inform Lord Elrond and Gandalf that you are awake."

Legolas widened his eyes, "Lord Elrond and Gandalf have come? When? And why?"

Yet Thranduil didn't answer him and departed from his chamber. The King looked deeply troubled and even a little bit...sad.

What was going on?

One hour later, after hearing Gandalf's brief recount (the incomplete version of course)of what happened in the past few months, Legolas was rendered speechless and dumbfounded. Feandir was a pawn of the necromancer in Dol Guldur and tried to control his father? And he had been locked away, and Legolas himself was marked by the evil sorcerer?

It all sounded so...crazy.

"Is my father well? "He frantically searched his father's presence, but the King was nowhere to be seen, "Did Feandir harm him?"

"It would seem as Feandir was sealed away, his influence on the King's mind also dissipated. I haven't noticed any lasting damage." Answered Lord Elrond benignly, "though he worried about you very much. "

Legolas ruminated on Elrond's words and recalled Thranduil's unvarnished relief and solicitude, and it flustered his heart like wind rumpling the surface of the water. He smiled in spite of knowing it was not a good thing to raise concern on your parent's mind.

Elrond and Gandalf didn't stay long as they wanted to leave enough time for Legolas to rest. Left alone all by himself, the Prince then submerged his bewildered mind in all the information that he had presently received. There was something amiss in the story and he couldn't pinpoint at which part, but the strange feeling of voidness lingered in his heart, as if certain faceless ghosts were thrusting and screaming underneath his compelled forgetfulness.

After nourishing on a palatable light meal brought in by a servant per the King's request, Legolas felt his strength mostly resumed. He bathed and dressed in his usual tunic and breeches and left his room to seek the King's whereabouts. He wanted to ask more questions about his lost memory. However when approaching Thranduil's study, his steps hesitated.

It was getting late. Should he bother his ada without a significant cause?

Normally a son wouldn't think too much before seeking out their father, but it was not how Legolas and Thranduil got along. The guard outside of the study saw him prowling about and inquired if he wanted him to announce his presence. Legolas was about to reject and wait until tomorrow, but the door opened from inside.

Thranduil, whose sallowness hadn't improved at all since Legolas saw him several hours ago, gave him a nonchalant look and said, "I heard your tread. Come in."

Thranduil had been locking himself in this room to contemplate all the possible choices he had. He was sure that Gandalf and Elrond would tell Legolas major parts of the story, about Feandir and the mysterious and evil necromancer. But they didn't know about the sinister side of their story. The shameful love, filthy desire and the twisted obsession that had doomed them both...That was the core of their torment.

Before Dol Guldur, they were able to contain it. They could have kept ignoring it and lied to themselves, and seek scarce contentment from others. They would endure the forever unquenched longing through their eternal existence, but at least their soul would have been free of sin. It was the night at Dol Guldur the veil was lifted and torn into pieces, and they were forced to encounter their deepest, darkest desire.

But now, it was all gone for Legolas. Dol Guldur never happened, and he could have a new start, a life without the sinful burden of their love. Could Thranduil drag him back to the slough of degradation?

He couldn't do that to his son, so he had decided to bury it.

"Do you want to see me?" Thranduil asked whilst pouring a goblet of wine.

Legolas kept a courteous distance and tentatively said, "yes ada. I wish to ask you some questions about my lost memory."

"Didn't Gandalf tell you everything?"

"He did. But...I was wondering if there is something that he missed? What happened in Dol Guldur?"

"You were trapped by the necromancer's spell, and I saved you. That was all." Answered Thranduil, siping the wine absently.

"But...why didn't he just kill me, or kills us? What was the necromancer's purpose?"

"He seeks to control Woodland Realm through controlling me. Feandir was his pawn, and in Dol Guldur his voice bewitched me, making me more susceptible to Feandir's magic."

"Where is Feandir now?"

Thranduil paused for a fleeting second and rejoined, "he's dead."

"Dead? How so? I thought Gandalf said you imprisoned him? Aren't we supposed to extradite him back to Lothlorien?"

"He failed to accomplish the task his 'master' bestowed on him, so he faded. It must be some form of dark magic. I didn't care." Thranduil turned to Legolas, and his gaze softened, "you shouldn't trouble yourself with such matters. All have passed, and you should rest as much as you can."

Legolas lowered his head. He had always wanted Feandir to be gone, but why did he have this unnerving feeling in his stomach?

Thranduil approached him and gently touched his shoulder. Legolas was a little startled by this intimate gesture, for Thranduil rarely got close to him in his incomplete memory. The touch felt familiar and yet foreign at the same time.

"How do you feel?" Inquired the King gingerly.

"I...I... feel...fine. I think."Legolas stuttered a little, "how about you, ada? You look not so well."

Thranduil chuckled, "not a nice thing to say to your ada, don't you think?"

"I mean you are still beauti...sublime and everything, but you look paler and tired. Was it because of me?"

"Now that you are well, I'm sure a good night's sleep will help."

Thranduil's gaze roamed on Legolas's every feature as if delineating the edge of his delicate eyes, straight nose and rosy lips, savouring the spirited, lively complexion as the treasure in his heart. Nevermore did he want to watch an inanimated son struggling on the thread of life and death.

Legolas blushed, "Why are you looking at me like this?"

Thranduil snapped out of it and quickly turned away, almost seemed embarrassed, "I'm just glad you are well. It is late, ion nîn. Let us continue this talk tomorrow at breakfast."

Legolas was dumbfounded. Breakfast? Since when did Thranduil start to have breakfast with him?

Maybe it was just an excuse to send him away? Was he being too nosy and asking too many questions?

However, the next morning Thranduil did send for him, and they had breakfast in the parlour that overlooks an underground waterfall. Morning sunshine poured down from the opening on the cavern vault and fringed a golden line on everything it touched. And Thranduil showered in the heavenly light as if he was part of the sun, glowing and breathtaking. He asked about Legolas's sleep and was concerned about his dreams, and was relieved hearing there was no dream at all.

Legolas was so flattered by his ada's sudden showing of affection that he began to doubt if he was actually in a sweet dream, so he pinched himself on his right thigh furtively to confirm it. The sneaky action didn't escape the King's keen eyes, so Thranduil slanted one side of his brows and asked, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing."Rejoined Legolas as if nothing happened, shoved a piece of biscuit into his mouth.

At the moment, Galion came in and brought with him a new report from frontier scouts. As Thranduil scanning through the letter, a pensive look spread on his countenance.

"Bad news?" Enquired the Prince.

Thranduil glanced at him and remarked tentatively, "the Dwarves have started a war with Orcs. They want to reclaim Moria."

Legolas considered it for a second and replied, "Azog has claimed himself the King of Moria, and his army was unlike any other Orcs clan. Those Goblins are strong, well trained and highly disciplined. Why would Dwarves want to start a war now? It is foolish. "

"Because Thrór is desperate. His people are floundering in poverty and hunger, and they don't have a home."Something rueful undertoned the King's expression, but Legolas wasn't sure if it was illusory.

Legolas remembered Thrór, the exiled King under The Mountain, though he never met him in person. He also knew of his son Thráin and his grandson Thorin, but they were merely names, and he had no association with them whatsoever. He commiserated with them when Smug drove them out of Erebor, but that was all.

However, the name Thorin gave him a peculiar tingling feeling in his stomach.

"We had Azog's son in our dungeon, hadn't we?"

"He escaped." The King answered dryly.

"What? I thought our dungeon is inescapable?"

Not wanting to mention Thorin's arrival, Thranduil decided to change the subject, "Dwarves' war is not our concern. We will fortify our frontier force, and that will be all."

And the war between Dwarves and Orcs lasted seven years and sorrowfully ended with the death of Thrór, who was beheaded by Azog, and the missing of Thráin. At the dire moment, Thorin used an oak branch as his shield, fought Azog with stunning bravery and fierceness, and cut off the defiler's left hand. He led the rest of the Dwarves to win the war but at a great cost. Countless dwarves' lives were lost in the Battle of Azanulbizar, and the bleak soil outside of Moria soaked in dark red. Other Dwarf clans refused to spill more blood for Durin's folks. Hence the war had to end. Failing to reclaim the grand mine of Moria, the last heir of Thrór's house, Thorin Oakenshield, once again disappeared into the wilderness.

Seven years in an Elf's life was merely a blink of an eye. In those days, Legolas heard piecemeals of information regarding the poignant war ongoing mostly underground. Sometimes in the middle of the night, when he was woken up by a rumbling war drum reverberating from afar, he wondered what was happening under the Misty Mountains.

The days were quiet in the Woodland Realm. Legolas continued to train the new soldiers, patrolled in the woods with Tauriel's garrison and occasionally attended diplomatic events with his father, as he always did. Things seemed to go back to the old track, but something had changed between him and his father.

Thranduil was not as distant and indifferent to him as before. Often he would dine with Legolas, asking about his day and discussing miscellaneous matters with him. Sometimes he would summon Legolas to help him write letters or read treaty documents, and they would sit together in the King's study, drenched in comfortable silence while the airy light and swirling dust dancing between their desks. From time to time, the King would even drop-in the training yard to watch him train. And Legolas would be covertly exhilarating and show brilliant skills on those occasions and feeling complacent when seeing the proud smile hinted on the King's lips.

Though Legolas wasn't sure why there was always a note of ruefulness and melancholy underlying Thranduil's gaze.

In better days, when it was sunny and the air was crisp, Thranduil would take a walk with him in the forest, and they would listen to the trees talking to each other in low, grumbling vibrancies.

"They are afraid."Murmured Thranduil, "the infestation from the south is still spreading, and it was closing in on us. "

"But Gandalf said the necromancer has gone?"

"We are still not sure the source of such plague. Maybe it's master has to be destroyed to stop it."Thranduil gently stroked the rough surface of an oak tree, and as he turned, the Prince was nowhere to be seen.

"Legolas?" Called Thranduil, and there was no reply.

A nervous feeling was bubbling up and the King's voice began to tint with anxiety and exigency, "Legolas!!"

"Ha!"Accompany by a burst of mischievous laughter, Legolas jumped off from a low tree bough flourishing with thick green leaves and landed behind the King. Thranduil was startled. He quickly turned around and instinctively tackled the intruder to the nearest tree trunk with the speed of a leopard and the precision of an eagle. Legolas yelped as he was shoved to the oak and was pinned there by his father. Thranduil's scent and power inundated him waves after waves, like the crescendo of a Cadenza. Legolas widened his eyes like a deer caught by a hunter, heartbeat flustering out of control, and he licked his lips unconsciously.

Normally he wouldn't dare to act like this when with his father, but after this past year, after Thranduil's mysterious shifting of attitude toward him, Legolas became a little bit careless. However, he definitely didn't expect this.

Thranduil realized it was Legolas playing a harmless prank on him the moment he pinned him down to the oak, but then, he froze.

Legolas was looking at him ingenuously, pellucid eyes glittering with excitement, cheek turning red, and lips parted as he panting. Several green leaves stuck on his slightly dishevelled pale golden hair like a small circlet, and the sunlight kissed his dainty features so gently and made him shine like a jewel.

At the moment Thranduil wanted so much to kiss Legolas. To seize the pair of soft lips and devour the palatable flavour of his son. And he knew Legolas would never deny him. On the contrary, he would plunge himself into whatever pit that Thranduil was dragging him in without hesitation.

Thranduil quickly let go of the Prince, trying his best to regain composure as fast as possible and reproved in a not so dignified manner, "don't do that! I could have hurt you!"

Legolas chuckled embarrassingly, with a fragment of disappointment as for a moment he actually thought Thranduil was going to kiss him, though he knew it was impossible, "Sorry ada, I didn't know you are scared so easily."

"I am not scared."

"Yes you did. Even your voice changed a little. "Answered the Prince cheekily.

Thranduil rolled his eyes and extended a hand to pluck the leaves from Legolas's hair, "you are not an elfling anymore. Stop acting like one."

Legolas just stood there with a big grin on his face, waiting for Thranduil to clear up all the leaves. He wanted to lean forward, set his forehead against the King's wide shoulder and just stay there forever, but he knew he couldn't. That would be too weird...

"Don't be late tonight." Suddenly remarked the King.

"Don't be late for what?" Blinked the Prince.

"Your birthday banquet."

Legolas snapped up his head, eyes so big that they were about to fall out, "what?"

"It is your 306th birthday today, don't you remember?" Thranduil raised one side of his eyebrows as if it was perfectly normal to suddenly remember his son's birthday after more than two hundred years of forgetfulness.

Legolas was dumbfounded, "I thought you forget."

"I always know. I just..."He didn't finish his sentences as he didn't know how to explain. In the end, he merely said, "will you forgive me?"

Legolas's eyes were watering up. He knew he should have played cool and not been bought by one birthday party so easily, but the fact that Thranduil remembered it made him so happy and hurt him so badly at the same time.

If he'd always known, then why did he choose to ignore it?

Maybe his father just didn't like celebrating birthdays since he never celebrated his own birthday as well. Though Legolas still sent him a small present each year on the day (usually delivered by a servant), and of course received no feedback. He sometimes suspected that Thranduil probably just threw those trivial presents away or let Galion stash them somewhere.

But it was not important, as Thranduil was acknowledging it now and was asking for his forgiveness. It was more than he could have hoped.

So Legolas smiled beautifully and answered, "there is nothing to forgive, ada."

Notes:

Another remission in between the angsty waves :D

Chapter 30

Summary:

The thirteen dwarves and a hobbit

Days went by like a forever rushing and roaring river, bring spring after winter, and summer followed by autumn. The leaves turned from green to red and then fell like scarlet rain, until next year, the warm southern wind awaken all the dormant boughs and flourishing them with luxuriant new leaves.

Legolas's life was placid and quiet, just like the past three hundred years. The small difference would be his relationship with Thranduil. The King was still obstinate and proud and ill-tempered at times, but to Legolas, he was no longer unreachable. He tried to spend more time with his son and, although somewhat awkwardly, to show more fatherly affection.

Legolas knew that he was supposed to be content. He should be grateful and happy and want nothing more. But there was an eccentric empty feeling hovering in his chest every time he saw his father, gazing at the piercing eyes and hearing his sonorous voice. Every time Thranduil tapped his shoulder or kissed his forehead the feeling would intensify ten folds, and he knew that he wanted something more, a lot more.

Something was amiss between them, something important, holes that needed to be filled in the stories about the missing days. As time flew, Legolas became more and more obsessed with it. What caused his father's change of attitude toward him? What happened in Dol Guldur exactly? And Gandalf said Haldir helped him save his father, so why wasn't he here when Legolas woke up?

He tried several times to ask Thranduil, but the King deflected his questions every time. Galion didn't know much more than he'd already known, and Gandalf was long gone, wandering to some distant land to accomplish mysterious quests. He had no one to ask.

He thought about writing to Haldir, but a compelling sense of foreboding prevented him from doing so. He even descended to the deepest dungeon, trying to find any sign of Feandir but found none. The dungeon was desolated as always.

It wasn't that he didn't trust his ada's words. He just felt...unsettling.

The unsatisfaction grew with every passing month, like poisonous ivy entwining Legolas's heart and the sharp thorns tearing at his flesh. It was an itch constantly presenting at the back of his head, and nothing he'd done could have scratched it.

He wanted more from Thranduil than fatherly love. He wanted to be loved like a lover. And he knew how wrong and morbid it was. So he had to press it down and not let anything show. Luckily Thranduil hadn't taken any new lovers since he'd woken up. Otherwise he would have burned in flames of jealousy.

One time Legolas almost slipped. It was on the night of the starlight festival. Wood Elves sang and danced under the trees and moonlight. Laughter and happiness filled the balmy fragrance infused air. Legolas was slightly intoxicated from drinking with Tauriel and other warriors. As he left the festival to catch some air, he found Thranduil drinking alone under a giant oak tree. His elk was near, languidly gnawing on fresh grass.

"Ada, why are you here brooding all by yourself on such a lovely night?"Asked the Prince playfully.

A spontaneous smile melted the King's solemn feature as he raised his gaze to meet Legolas, "Do you young elves call enjoying solitary brooding nowadays?"

Legolas sat beside him and tried to take the wine bottle, but Thranduil snatched the bottle away.

"Don't be so stingy!"

"You've had enough. I can smell your intoxication."

"I'm perfectly well. I've inherited your high tolerance for drinks, haven't I?"

"It is a waste to imbibe such an ancient bottle while your sense is impaired."

"You are the most stingy King I've ever seen!"

"Given that you haven't seen many kings, I'd say your comparison has no ground."

Thranduil was obviously in a good mood, and their repartee filled Legolas's heart with more lightweight joy and a more profound sense of happiness. As the night was getting late and the music was waning, Thranduil stood up and said, "We should head back."

Legolas then realized that he was a bit drunker than he thought. He stumbled as he was getting up and practically fell into the King's embrace.

They were so close. Two pairs of similar sapphire eyes stared into each other and ignited sparkles of enthusiasm. Legolas was mesmerized, and he thought he saw something in Thranduil's gaze. Something thick, dark and wanton, just like himself's feeling. So he leaned in wanting to test the water, and right at the moment when he thought his lips were going to touch Thranduil's, the King tilted his head slightly, and the kiss met the air.

Legolas was embarrassed beyond measure. He scrambled back to his feet and prayed that Thranduil didn't notice his intention. The King acted as if nothing happened, and they went back to the palace eventlessly. But the moment stayed with Legolas for months even years. He would pull out the memory and analyze it over and over, trying to find any trace of fleeting awareness on Thranduil's countenance.

He believed he saw sadness.

And then came the dreams.

Legolas couldn't remember much. When he woke up, memories of the dreams began to flee away like sand seeping out of grips. The tighter you try to hold them, the faster they slipped away. He could only catch bits and pieces before they sank into the deep sea of oblivion.

They were chaotic. Sometimes he dreamt of sitting on a derelict stone throne, and Thranduil was on top of him and...they were making love. It was crazy and overwhelming and blissful and so real that it didn't feel like a dream at all. Sometimes he dreamt of the floating light drifting among mallorn's gigantic boughs, ethereal song echoing around, and a handsome silver-haired Marchwarden held him tight in his arms, gently whispered into his ear, telling him that he will help him and everything will be ok. Other times he saw a pair of stern eyes full of vicissitudes yet still gentle and kind, but he couldn't make out other parts of the face.

Those dreams disquieted him even more as he suspected they had something to do with the lost months. He contemplated to mention it to Thranduil, but since his father made into quite some of the iniquitous contents, he didn't dare to bring them up.

During those troubled years, Tauriel was his only confidant. She was about three hundred years older than him and had been looking after him since he joined the patrol garrisons when he was merely 80 years old. Tauriel was his closest friend, a sister even. Of course he couldn't tell her everything, but she understood his longing for Thranduil's affection and had provided him much comfort through the long years. What he didn't expect was that much rumour about him taking a liking to Tauriel began to circulate around and eventually reached Thranduil's ears.

The King was not amused. Though at first, he didn't say anything. After all, on what ground could he stop his son from loving someone else?

He gave up the love himself, so he had to live with the consequences.

For 142 years, there was no outsider enter their realm except for one. A man, a Ranger named Arathorn, shortly entered their Kingdom, bring a letter from Lord Elrond. Legolas didn't meet him as he was patrolling on the southern border with Tauriel, but he heard many tales about the Ranger upon his return. Arathorn was Isildur's decedent and was raised by Lord Elrond, just as his father and grandfather. He had travelled many lands while tracking Orcs' movement and protecting villages from being ransacked. It was said that he was exceptionally handsome and charming though had gotten married and had a son (namely Aragorn) that very year, much to many fair Elven ladies' disappointment.

Even Thranduil somewhat liked him, which was rather shocking given that Arathorn was a man. And Thranduil always thought men were loutish in manners and capricious in mind.

Twenty years after Arathorn's visit, thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit entered Mirkwood unannounced.

By then, the infestation had encroached past the forest road, creeping up to the Wood Elves' last sanctuary. The fishy and dank miasma was so dense as if congealing into something solid and alive, and whoever breathed in it would be inveigled by illusory senses and deceivable shadows and lost their way.

Legolas sensed the commotion deep in the woods. Something had triggered those spiders and disturbing the death-like quietness. He led the troop fleeting through branches and boughs and soon discovered those audacious dwarves struggling against a nest of giant spiders. One of them was about to be attacked by one of those filthy creatures.

Legolas grabbed a thread of spider web and descending like a diving eagle, and crushing one of the spider's brain during the process of landing. He slipped through the bottom of another spider with the help of momentum and slit opened its abdomen cleanly, and then smoothly pointed his arrow at the Dwarf's forehead.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the familiarity of those dark blue eyes baffled Legolas.

He'd seen them somewhere. Yet he could not recall any specific memory relate to the handsome but haggard face.

Thorin stared at Legolas. It had been more than a hundred years since their last time being together. The memory of that feverish night he spent with the Prince in the Elven King's bedroom did not fade with time, and Legolas didn't change one bit.

But why were his eyes so cold and distant, as if he didn't know him at all?

"Do not think I won't kill you, Dwarf. It would be my pleasure." Said Legolas in a proud and taunting voice.

Thorin was about to say something but was interrupted by Kili's yelling for help. They were all caught by the Wood Elves and no one could help the poor young lad. Luckily, Tauriel emerged from the trees and slain five spiders handily, saving Kili along the way.

Legolas ordered a thorough searching and found an Elven sword on that particular leader of the Dwarves, which was rather suspicious. As far as he knew, Dwarves hated Elves' gut and would rather die than using Elven weapon. And Elves would never bestow such an ancient and precious piece to a Dwarf.

"Where did you get this?" Interrogated Legolas.

Thorin, offended by his tone, answered grumpily," It was given to me."

To his surprise, Legolas pointed the word to his throat and sneered, "Not just a thief, but a liar as well."

What the actual fuck? Thought Thorin. Was the Prince angry at him for some reason? Did he regret that night and hated him?

But it was Legolas's idea all along!

However Legolas's mysterious distant attitude toward him was his least concern for now since he was about to meet the cold, heartless and honorless King Thranduil again. He had long disenchanted with Thranduil's beauty and charm since losing two of his companions during his returning trip from Woodland Realm a hundred years ago. The only things left in his heart now were anger and hatred.

Or so he would have himself believed.

At least Bilbo was safe for now. Though he wasn't sure how a hobbit would survive in this decadent woodland all by himself.

As they were locking up the intruders (except for their leader), Legolas noticed unusual exchanges between Tauriel and the young Dwarf Kili, and he was rather suspicious about the latter. Thranduil always told him that Dwarves were greedy and untrustable, so he wouldn't want Tauriel to be tricked by one of them. He gave Kili a warning glare before going to the Throne Terrace to report to the King.

He heard Thranduil's voice from a short distance.

"I offer you my help." claimed the King, "I will let you go, if you but return what is mine."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. What?

And then came the Dwarf's raging insulting. There were so much anger and disappointment as Thorin accused Thranduil of deserting his allies and friends, and Legolas was shocked.

No one dared to talk to his ada like that...maybe saving for the Orc. Did that stupid Dwarf have a death wish?!

Then Legolas realized that he was worried...about the Dwarf?

Thranduil was surprisingly calm facing the fulmination. Rather than cutting off the Dwarf's obstinate head right then and there, he merely ordered guards to lock Thorin in the dungeon with his other companions.

After Thorin was gone, Legolas set foot on the Terrace and asked, "what was that? Are you trying to make a deal with him?"

Thranduil still sat on the Throne in a languour posture, "do you know who he is?"

"Thorin, son of Thrain. The supposed heir to the Thorne of Erebor. "

"Yes, and he has come back to reclaim something important to him. "

"But what do you want from that Mountain? "

Thranduil didn't answer. He appeared to be disturbed and gestured his son to come near. Legolas obeyed. As he ascended the stairs, Thranduil exhorted him with firm eyes, "Listen, I don't want you to go near those dwarves, for they are cunning and full of lies. "

Legolas chuckled, "and I am not a naive elfling, ada."

"Just listen to me." Thranduil iterated emphatically, "do not go to the dungeon. Leave it to Galion to guard."

Legolas was perplexed, "are you worried about something particular?"

Thranduil's expression hardened, "all you should have said is yes, and no more questions."

Legolas, not wanting to provoke the King, reluctantly answered, "yes...ada."

"Good." Thranduil exhaled quietly, "is there anything else you want to report?"

"Tauriel fought well today. Maybe we should consider promoting her?"

Thranduil squinted his eyes, "she is already the Captain."

"Then maybe we should reward her with something else? Maybe give her a title or something of the sort?" Legolas thought about the young Dwarf's cheeky smile, and he really didn't want to find Tauriel eloping with him one day...If Tauriel was given a title and had more chance to know other lads from noble families, she might shift her attention to a more suitable subject.

Thranduil stared at him for a long time. Too long that it started to feel eerie. As Legolas began to worry that he might have said something stupid, the King sighed and finally nodded, "I will think about it."

For two days Legolas kept his promises to his father, but then he had the dream again, and he finally remembered where he saw Thorin.

It was in his dreams.

He saw Thorin's eyes in some of those fragmented dreams!

How was that possible? How did a complete stranger manage to trespass his dreams more than one time?!

Legolas paced his room in the middle of the night when everyone except for the palace patrolling guards were asleep. He had this compelling hunch that Thorin knew something about him. The itch at the back of his head was intensifying, and he felt like his skull was about to explode.

He had to go to see the former Dwarf Prince.

And so Legolas went down to the dungeon alone. The lower caves were quiet and dim as always, and a strange, ominous air shrouded him tightly.

All other prisoners were asleep except for the one he came for.

Thorin sat in the confined cell, leaning on the bared wall and humming a low, gloomy tune. Hearing the approaching tread, he glanced at the Prince and chuckled.

"Ah, I was wondering when you will come."

Legolas furrowed his brows in confusion, "Were you expecting me?"

Thorin sighed and raised his eyes to meet Legolas, "When will you stop this game?"

"What game?"

"The game that you pretending not remembering me." rejoined Thorin.

Chapter 31

Summary:

The peculiar Hobbit and an unexpected discovery

Thorin's word disquieted Legolas's already troubled mind. He leerily gazed at the Dwarf and demanded more information, "what do you mean? Did we meet before?"

Thorin observed him for a while until it struck him that the Prince's confusion was genuine. He stood up and walked up to the iron bars, "you truely don't remember me?"

Legolas stared at him sternly, yet a trace of insecurity permeated out from the veneer.

Something was wrong. Elves are immortals, but they don't tend to forget things. A hundred years is merely a blink in an elf's life, and you don't forget anything that just happened only a blink ago.

Also Thorin was confident that the night they shared was more than memorable...

"What did your father do to you..."The baffled Dwarf murmured.

"My father?" Legolas licked his lips nervously, "there was an incident, and I lost several months' memory. But the King never mentioned you."

Lost memory...How was that even possible? Did Thranduil use some dark magic to make his son forget certain things intentionally? Thought Thorin bitterly.

The Dwarf Prince held awfully much grudge toward the King that he was ready to think the worst of him on any given chance. However Legolas was innocent in his eyes. He still remembered the forlorn look lingering in those blue eyes when conversed about their fathers. It engendered a sense of protectiveness in Thorin's heart, and the feeling hadn't waned a hundred years apart.

"Of course your father won't mention me to you since he tried to kill me." Thorin grunted.

"Why? What happened?"

"We came seeking help from our past ally. It was my mistake. My ridiculous past obsession blinded me, driven us to your father's door, and I thought naively that maybe he was not that apathetic and heartless, maybe he would help us this time."

"The Dwarves and Orcs war...You wanted my father's support?"

"Yes. How stupid I was." Then Thorin went on recounted their match in the training yard, their conversations and that wanton night they recklessly shared in the King's bedroom.

Legolas's eyes dilated as the story went on, and at the last part crimson shades saturated his cheeks. It felt like another Elf Thorin was talking about because surely he couldn't have done such a mad, profligate thing!

In his father's room?! How wicked!

"You are lying! I would never have done that!" Accused the Prince sullenly.

"I do not lie." Thorin remarked coldly, "unlike your King, I have honour."

"One more disrespectful word and I will cut off your tongue!"

Thorin's laughter echoed in the spacious cavern, and Legolas looked around nervously. He didn't want to raise any attention from other cells nor the guards.

"Still a loyal, virtuous son, ready to defend your father's name at any instance. It is a pity, for he doesn't deserve such devotion."

Legolas reached out as fast as lighting and seized Thorin's collar, pulling outward and forced the latter's face to press against the wall painfully. He looked into Thorin's eyes in disdain, "do not think you can sow discord between my father and me, Dwarf. I do not believe a single word you said."

"Then why do you come to see me?"

Legolas couldn't explain. He shoved Thorin backward and turned to leave, not wanting to hear more lies. But Thorin kept speaking behind him, "your father hid his malice under a gesture of goodwill by giving us Bolg, Azog's son, and then he notified the Goblin our whereabout. Two of my warriors were killed that day, all because I slept with his son."

"My father will NEVER collude with Orcs!" exclaimed the Prince, face burned with rage.

Thorin scorned, "why don't you go ask him?"

And Legolas did. He waited outside of the King's chamber for the rest of the night and barged in the doors when the servants started to bring in warm water and fresh towels. Thranduil had just risen, still in his morning robes, and was surprised to found his son rushing in with a pale face and perturbing eyes.

"What's the matter?" Enquired the King.

"I need to speak with you privately."Rejoined Legolas in a strained tone.

By observing his son's countenance, Thranduil surmised the possible causes. He taciturnly gestured the servants to leave. A portentous apprehension was rising in his stomach, but he pressed it down.

Legolas waited until the door was closed then went on blurted out, "why didn't you tell me about Thorin? I've met him In those lost months, haven't I?"

"You promised me you wouldn't go near those Dwarves."

"I'm sorry for breaking my promise, but why didn't you tell me? What else have you concealed from me?" queried Legolas.

Thranduil quickly weighted between different answers that he could have given Legolas and various possibilities that each of them could have led to. He had been haunted by an unnerving restlessness recently, and he knew it was related to his son.

Thranduil had never removed the empathy spell between them, and as the monodirectional link between them lasted more than a hundred years, the potency of such spell also intensified. At first he could only partially share Legolas's mental affliction, but he started to feel more layers of the Prince's emotions in the following decades. Legolas's happiness, his doubt, his insecurity and his unremitting longing toward Thranduil. The King couldn't feel them as acute as them to Legolas himself, and he had found a way to differentiate them from his own feelings, for they had a distant, intangible nature like the vivid mirage floating on the sea, but he nonetheless was influenced by those pouring affections.

And in recent several years, Legolas's doubts were increasing, and his sleep was not as dreamless and tranquil as before.

Maybe the seal was not as secure as it was. Maybe its power was timeworn. He had been pondering if he should write a letter to Lord Elrond but balked at the possibility of raising more suspicion from his son. The past a hundred years had been peaceful, and he didn't want to ruin it.

Perhaps he should have written that letter after all.

"I didn't tell you about Thorin because I am ashamed of myself," Thranduil admitted with astonishing candour, "I was affected by Feandir's magic and did something repulsive, and every time I recall the decision I made, it chilled me to the core."

Legolas was speechless for a moment and then squeezed out, "so you did try to kill Thorin?"

"I had the intention. I knew Azog's scouts were lurking around our realm, so I gave Thorin Bolg. I was angry because he humiliated me when asking for my help. "

Legolas swallowed the information strenuously, "because...what I did with him?"

The King didn't answer.

"But why? According to Thorin, it was my idea to...do it in your room..."His voice trailed off as he suddenly realized where he was.

They were standing at the very location of which the incident had taken place...

Why did he even suggest such a...audacious thing?! He would never have dared to even think about it!

Though now that he thought about it...It was sort of deviant but also exciting...

"Perhaps it was the fact a Dwarf trying to steal from me again that enraged me. As I said, I was not in my right mind." Thranduil remarked dryly. Bitterness filled his mouth.

"I'm sure he was not trying to steal me, ada. No one can 'steal' me because I'm not the white gems of Lasgalan. Is that why you lock them in the dungeon? You want him to give it back to you?"

"Yes."

Legolas sighed in defeat, "this is not right. You...we have wronged them, and now we are locking them up? We should have let them go."

"No."Answered the King sternly, "the white gems are our heirloom, and until they are willing to surrender it, I will not set them free."

"They were just gems!"

"They belong to your mother!"

A familiar pang erupted in Legolas's chest, and he whispered, "she has gone for centuries. When will you move on?"

"Don't you dare to ask that of me!" Scolded the King, eyes blazing fire.

It was always like this. Whenever his mother was mentioned, all the benevolent and tenderness would have vaporized from the King's stubborn heart in a millisecond. Legolas knew then the conversation was over.

The seed of mistrust burgeoned and began to thrive speedily. Legolas couldn't help but wonder what else happened as he left the King's room. There must have been a reason for him to behave like that, had he had a fight with Thranduil? What was the cause? He was caught up in conjectures while walking across a narrow wooden bridge, suddenly a gasp of wind flitted past him, and his acute ear picked up the sound of light steps.

It was not the first time in the past few days that he had this eerie feeling that someone just went past him, yet his eyes could only see empty air. This time though, he reached out to the air unexpectedly and his hand, while not supposed to find anything from thin air, did get a hold of a wispy of soft, curly hair.

"Ouch!" Someone yelped.

Legolas widened his eyes. Still couldn't see a soul, but he felt a pair of hands, smaller than usual, clutched at his wrist.

"Who's here! Show yourself!" Commanded the Prince.

The hands were removed from his wrist, and a second later, a small figure puffed out of nowhere. Legolas inhaled shapely and noticed that he was indeed gripping at the creature's hair.

It was a small being, slightly smaller than a Dwarf, yet his mature features suggested that he was not a boy, but a grown man in his late 30s or early 40.

"Um...sorry for startling you, your highness...but could you please let go of my hair?" The creature asked politely.

Legolas squinted his eyes, "what if you disappear again if I let go?"

"I promise you I won't." The curly-haired creature answered nervously.

Legolas reluctantly loosened his grip. The creature hastily rubbed at his hair as if checking if they were still there.

"What are you?" Inquired Legolas amazedly.

The creature bowed with delightful courtesy, "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

"Bilbo Baggins? You are not a Dwarf aren't you?"

"No, your highness. I'm a Hobbit."

A Hobbit?

Legolas heard about the halflings but had never seen one with his own eyes. He knew Gandalf was very fond of them and used to purchase a lot of pipeweeds from them.

Legolas looked around and found no guards nearby. He then proceed to ask, "are you with the Dwarves?"

Bilbo swallowed and squeezed out a "yes" between his teeth, obviously anxious about Legolas's reaction.

"You come to rescue them?"

"Yes...I have been in your lovely Kingdom for three days but haven't found out their location..."

Bilbo's honesty endeared himself to Legolas, and the Prince smiled, "this is indeed a huge place. "

His attitude confused Bilbo, "Hm...you...you are not going to lock me up?"

Legolas then heard the approaching steps of patrolling guards. He quickly gestured to Bilbo to follow him. The small creature put on a small gold thing on his finger and was disappeared again, but Legolas could hear the feather-light tread trailing after him.

He went into a tortuous downward tunnel and flew down countless stairs. The air was getting colder and damper. The number of lamps was reducing. Elongated shadows shivered with the dance of the flames.

"Where are we going?" Questioned the Hobbit, who was visible again.

"The guards don't patrol this area often. It would be safer for you. "Legolas looked at him curiously, "do you know magic?"

"Oh no, no, the invisible thing is not magic. It's just a little trick."Bilbo gave out a nervous, dry laugh.

"Can you turn others invisible too? Is that your plan for rescuing the Dwarves?"

"Not really, your highness, I can only turn myself."

"Then how do you plan to rescue them once you've found them?"

"I thought maybe I could find some viable means later."

Legolas raised his eyebrows, "so you have no plan."

Bilbo grimaced, "no I don't."

They reached an unfurnished cavern, with only several lamps emitting elusive glows.

"Your Dwarves friends are locked in the dungeon. If you go down this direction, you can avoid most guards and find their cells."Legolas pointed at another tunnel at their left, "Galion has the key, but he is very vigilant and responsible, so I do not think you can steal it from him easily. However, it will be Starlight Festival in four days, and everyone will be as drunk as the dead woods on that night. It will be your best chance."

Bilbo's eyes glistened excitedly. He gratefully admired the Elven Prince, "I don't know how to thank you!"

Legolas continued, "Do not wander far into other tunnels. The maze down here is intricate and dangerous. You could get lost. I will try to bring you some food every day."

Bilbo agreed docilely and then wondered, "May I ask why are you helping me?"

Legolas lowered his eyelids and said dolefully, "Because it is the right thing to do. "

**********

Legolas contemplated the possibility of stealing the key from Galion himself before the Starlight Festival, but he was reluctant to land on the bad side of his father. The peaceful relationship between them was not easy to gain, and he didn't want to risk undermining it. 

It had to be done by the Hobbit. 

The next day, Legolas found an excuse to dismiss the dungeon's guards shortly and gave Bilbo a chance to talk to the Dwarves. He hid in the shadow and didn't show himself, lest causing an unnecessary commotion among the Dwarves. He noticed how Thorin's eyes softened and gleamed as if a ray of sunshine drove out all the darkness when Bilbo showed up. Their hands clasped with each other for a long time, and the affection between them was very touching.

Thorin trusted the Hobbit, for they had been through a lot together. Legolas watched them from afar, feeling envious of such a bond.

He couldn't even trust his own father.

Every day at around midnight, Legolas would bring food for Bilbo. The Prince was amazed by how much a Hobbit can eat, considering how small they were. Even a grown man couldn't have been able to eat so much and still stay in shape.

Legolas felt ludicrous while stealing a whole sag of food from his kitchen but deemed his effort rewarded as he was watching Bilbo guzzling down a whole blueberry pie with a satiated smile on his face.

"I have to say, your highness, Elven food tastes so much better than Dwarf's food. They either don't cook their food enough or burnt them...Is it too much if I ask the recipe of this divine blueberry pie?"

Legolas laughed heartily, "I can ask for you the next time I meet our cook. She will be very eager to teach me."

Bilbo finished the pie, but uncharacterized stopped when he could have easily finished the rest of the sausages, bread and cheese. Legolas asked curiously, "not hungry today?"

"No...I was just thinking... maybe I can save some food for the Elf in that cage."

Legolas blinked, "Elf? What Elf?"

Bilbo pointed at a deserted tunnel at the far right end, hidden in the shadow of the protuberant rocks, "I was trying to see if there is any way leading out, and I found an Elf in that tunnel, locked in an iron cage, and there were many incantations carved on the ground. He said he was confined there for a long time, so I thought maybe he could use some food."

Legolas was thoroughly bewildered, "we don't have any Elf prisoner."

"But there is one. I can show you if you want."

And so Legolas followed Bilbo down to a tunnel that he didn't even know existed. It was not completely deserted as there were traces of footsteps, and the oil in the few lamps was recently replenished.

At the end of the stairs was a small, dingy cave, reeking of a stale smell. And there was indeed an iron cage, surrounded by rolls after rolls of magic incantations, like the eye of a tempest.

Within the cage, a haggard, scrawny figure wrapped in a tattered dark robe slowly raised his head, and the pair of dark eyes blazed when he saw who was standing in front of him.

"Oh my. Look who is here. A pretty little Prince."

An inexplicable yet overwhelming fear seized Legolas's heart, and he exclaimed in horror:

"Feandir!"

Notes:

Shit gonna hit the fan again XD

Chapter 32

Summary:

Despair.

Legolas didn't remember much about Feandir, only that the last time he saw him, he was in an embroidered white robe and sang like a nightingale, and Thranduil's enthralled expression made Legolas jealous as hell.

It was hard to relate that Elf with the ghastly figure in front of him, confining in a filthy cage. An ominous sense of dreadfulness unsettled him severely.

Thranduil lied to him yet once more when he told him Feandir was dead. The King was trying to conceal something from him, and he didn't want him asking any questions.

Bilbo shifted between Legolas and the prisoner, "do you know each other?"

Feandir grinned, and his hollow cheek no longer appeared to be sweet and innocent but rather malicious, "oh yes, we've known each other quite well. How are you? The King told me that you were not so well, and he was very distraught at the time. It warmed my heart to see him cared about you so much."

"Bilbo."Legolas turned to the Hobbit and entreated, "I would like to talk to him privately. Could you give us a moment?"

Bilbo complied easily, "of course! I will just leave the food here."

As the small figure disappeared into the darkness and his tread dissipated, Legolas carefully stood closer toward the cage but heedfully kept out of the circles of incantations.

"What do you know about me?" Legolas interrogated coldly.

Feandir crawled toward him. His white spider-like hand clutched at the rusty bars, and his eyes glittering with excitement, "Oooh, interesting, it would seem that you have lost something. Your eyes are lacking the hatred and fear that you always have when you see me."

Gandalf had informed Legolas of the wickedness of this Elf, but without the actual memories of the horrifying necromancer and the experience of being manipulated and controlled by Feandir, and the recalling of looking into the seeing Stone...The fear was just not that intense anymore.

"Answer my question!" Commanded the Prince.

Feandir observed him carefully, the lingering gaze roaming on Legolas's body and made the latter very uncomfortable.

"They sealed all of it, didn't they? You've forgotten everything related to the mark."Feandir's voice was slow and slimy, like a snake slithering into the Prince's mind, "but it is not as secure as they think. They are coming back to you. Your deepest desire cannot be banned so easily, and every passing day it is growing, thriving in the dark like a blood-red rose silently blooming in the grave of memories. "

"Stop talking in riddles!" Rebuked the Prince frustratedly, "if you tell me what you know of those months, I will...make your life easier by bringing you more food and letting you bathe in warm water. You are an Elf, after all."

The suggestion of a bathe certainly affected the prisoner's attitude. A not well-conceived eagerness leaked out from the deviant countenance of the corrupted Elf.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

Two hours later, Bilbo saw Legolas stumbled out of the passage, pale as a ghost. He scurried to his side and inquired, "Is everything alright?"

Legolas's eyes were dull, empty, and unfocused, as if his thoughts had travelled to another world and left his body behind. He wavered a bit, hand clasped on Bilbo's shoulder seeking support, and muttered, "It can't be true. He must be lying..."

"What did he tell you? Do you...do you want to sit down? "

Legolas closed his eyes for a second, trying to get a hold of himself. He then spoke to Bilbo solemnly, "don't go back to that cell, nor talking to him on any occasion. I will come back tomorrow."

And the next day, Legolas came with food and a warm water bucket that he promised the prisoner. Bilbo could tell from the Prince's dark circles that he didn't sleep much last night. Something was troubling the Prince, but he dared not to pry.

Legolas went down the tunnel alone and left the warm water near the cage, where Feandir could reach. The former bard stared at the water with longing eyes pathetically, which engendered, though not much knowing what Feandir had attempted to do to the King and himself, a sense of pity in Legolas's heart.

"Praise you, my lord! You have honoured your word!"

"I want to know, "Legolas said suddenly.

Feandir dipped one hand into the water and signed in bliss before rejoining, "I have already told you everything I know about you. "

"You could have been lying."

"You know I didn't."

Legolas pondered a few moments and asked, "is there a way for me to remember? Does it mean the seal will be broken if I remember?"

"Yes, if you remember everything, then the seal will be broken."

Legolas had conjectured such an answer and was about to turn to leave. But then Feandir opened his mouth again, "however, there is a way for you to see all of it from a semi-omniscient view without actually remember them. It will be like watching some other ones' lives, except you are watching your experiences. It is not exactly the same as remembering, and you cannot see anything beyond what you've experienced, but in this way, the seal will stay intact, for now at least."

Should he trust this conning, sordid lier?

Legolas had been tossing and turning on the bed all night and tried to piece all of his dream fragments together and fit them into the tale Feandir told him. Could it be possible that those wild imaginations of his father looming over him, taking every part of him, were not imaginations after all? Could his darkest desire were not his own, but was reciprocated by the subject of his longing?

Then why Thranduil was trying to hide everything? Did he regret it?

Did he love him as a son or as a lover? Why did he become gentle and benevolent toward him for the past a hundred years? Was it love or guilt?

He wanted to know. He had to know!

"What should I do?"

Feandir lifted his head and grinned again, "aren't you afraid I am lying now?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Feandir chuckled amusingly and then gesticulated Legolas to come closer. The Prince stepped forward, though still leerily kept some distance.

"Closer." Insisted the sorcerer.

Legolas stared at him warningly, yet complied by kneeling down right in front of Feandir.

"After your father captured me, they searched every part of my chamber and my belongings, yet cannot find the Seeing Stone that I showed you. It is because it had always been with me."

Feandir's hand extended from his tattered robe, and the next second, a dark crystal orb emerged out of thin air. A mass of cryptic halo swirling in the deep center mesmerizingly, like a distant whisper conveying ominous intentions.

Legolas drew back alarmingly, his hand moved to the dagger that he carried at his belt, "I know what it does! You used it to put the mark in me!"

"Fear not, for my master had gone from Dol Guldur several days ago, and I have lost all my contact with him. Now the stone can only show you things, and nothing more."

"And you expected me to believe it?!"

Feandir had the nerve to roll his eyes and grunted, "suit yourself." And then he put the Seeing Stone away without any further persuasion.

Perplexed by his nonchalant demeanour, Legolas hesitated, unsure if it was a game or a veneer of deceiving. He furrowed and asked, "the necromancer left Dol Guldur a hundred years ago."

"Nah, he only left briefly to avoid confrontation with the Gray Wizard, for he wasn't strong enough by then and didn't want to raise any unnecessary attention. He returned shortly after, and through the long, lonely and desolated years, his voice was my only comfort. But now...now he has abandoned me."

A deep, ingenuous whistful look haunted Feandir's faded yet still pretty face. He tried to mask it with impassiveness, but the pain was seeping out from all his malicious semblance.

Legolas's intuition told him that at this moment, the sly Elf was telling the truth. In fact, he had been telling the truth since yesterday.

"Why would he abandon you? Aren't you his son?"

Feandir laughed out loud as if Legolas said something naive and stupid, "you of all people should know that not every parent loves their child."

"My father loves me."

"Does he? Then why ignored you for your whole life? Why only pretend to care about you when you are dying?"

"He was grieving for my mother." Refuted the Prince, sternly.

"Believe what you want. I am in no position to tell you what love is since I've known nothing about it."Feandir turned away from Legolas, muttered quietly, "all I know is fear and longing. I fear him but also want to be acknowledged by him. I thought I am special to him, not just a pawn, but someone who holds some value to him. I was wrong."

Legolas knew that he would have regretted this later, but now he commiserated with the former singer. He knew the pain, sympathized with the feeling all so well. It was just...he'd never thought that he would share this empathy with Feandir.

"How do you know he is gone?"

"Before, even though I am rotting in this cursed place, I can always feel his presence. His breath, his voice, or just some unperceivable vibration in the air...Two days ago, all of them were gone. I tried to look into the Seeing Stone, to reach out to him, to call him back, telling him that I've seen you and I can help him to get you and your father. But there was no response anymore. It was pure emptiness. Something has happened, and he has left. I know that much."

Feandir's voice quivered at the last sentence. He pulled out the Seeing Stone again and rolled it out from the gap between the rusty iron bars, "take it to your King or to the Wizard, do whatever you want with it. I don't need it anymore."

Legolas gazed at the prisoner and then the dark orb. Time was coagulated into solid substance around him while two kinds of speculations wrestling with each other in his mind. Was Feandir lying. Was this all a trap well designed for him? Or was he telling the truth?

Eventually Legolas gingerly picked up the orb. It was cold, like marble. But other than that, no ominous vibrations, no forboding apprehensions.

"How do I use it?"

**********
There was an unusual commotion in the South of Mirkwood. Thranduil could feel it.

The trees were flustering with dreadful moanings and shiverings. An upsurge of great energy sent out waves after waves repercussions, booming like thunder roaring over the horizon. Wood Elves were unsettled yet unable to comprehend the source of such tumult.

"The storm is about to come." Muttered the King. He was standing on the terrace in the open air. Wuthering wind lifted his golden strands, spreading his long robe like wings.

A dull pain suddenly rang in his chest, and Thranduil's spruce like body wavered. He leaned against the railing, wasn't able to move as if his body had its own mind. The air in his chest was all sucked out by a disembodied black hole, and for a moment, he feared that his heart was failing.

What was happening? 

What was this pain? 

He couldn't think. A tsunami of sadness onslaught full force and engulfed him whole. He struggled like a drowning man, gasping for air, but the pain just won't stop.

He was half-paralyzed for a long time, and finally, the overwhelming pain quelled a little. He could think again, and began to panic.

The pain was coming from Legolas.

Something had happened. Was Legolas in danger?

He quickly turned to go find his son but was startled to find Legolas was standing several steps behind him silently.

"Legolas, I didn't hear your steps." He said tentatively.

Legolas looked unwell. The light that always blessed around him faded into pallid, and he was shaking slightly. The Prince just stared at the King. The seemingly dispassionate countenance couldn't hide the profound sorrow, disappointment and misery in his eyes, like shattered stars singing their last lament.

"What is the matter, ion nîn?" Thranduil was worried.

"You knew." Answered the Prince quietly.

Thranduil's eyebrows converged, "knew what?"

"That I love you, as a lover. "

As the Prince speaking the words, a bolt of lightning split the sky right above them and illuminated their expressions. The King's terror and the Prince's breaking.

"You remembered? That's impossible..."

"I've seen them, all of them. And I've seen what I have done to myself. "Legolas's voice was breaking, and it was so pathetic that Thranduil felt like his heart was shuttered with it.

The Prince continued, "I've seen Dol Guldur. I've seen how you rejected me the very next day and how I was begging you to love me. I've done everything...Everything!!! I'd die for you, cursed by Valar for you and be an exile for you without a second thought. And finally, finally, you changed your mind...In the training yard, you loved me...you accepted us, and I must have been so happy. Even though I lost a dear friend, but you are all I have ever wanted. And then..."

"Legolas..."

"And then my memory was wiped, and you seized the chance right away, pretending none of it ever happened. You never loved me. It was only guilt, only responsibility, only pity." Tears fell down Legolas's cheek like a breaking thread of pearls, and they commingled with the pouring rain, soaking the Prince in the sea of despair, "I sold my soul for your love, my King, but you still won't love me."

Chapter 33

Summary:

Break up.

Legolas's heartbreaking echoed in Thranduil's chest, and he knew that what he was experiencing was less than what Legolas was feeling. He tried to pull Legolas toward him, to hold him and tell him that it was not true, that he loves him more than he should have been giving. But Legolas stepped back, refusing to be manipulated again by the occasional tenderness.

"Legolas, where did you see it? What happened?! This is important because your seal could have been broken!"

"The seal is fine, and even if it is broken I don't care. Let him take me, for it was what I sold." Legolas tried to pull his lips to laugh, but it was more like crying.

Yet Thranduil shouted in a furor, "No! He cannot take you because you are mine! I have been trying! Can't you see?! I thought you were happy! Why can't you be content with what we have?! Why do you have to ruin yourself!"

"I can never be content. Even if you wipe out every single piece of memories from my mind, even if I forget who I am, I still will never be content. But fear not, ada, for I have come to the revelation. It is not your fault that you don't love me. It was entirely my burden and mine alone, and I should never have wanted more from you."

"I love you! " Thranduil squeezed the words out of his gut, from the deepest corner of his heart, because he knew that he was losing Legolas, and if he didn't tell him now, he would lose him, "of course I love you!"

"Then prove it. Kiss me." Demanded the Prince gravely.

Thranduil hesitated. Right there was another choice that would substantially change their relationship, and there would be no turning back.

An eternity of exile, of homeless, hopelessness...They were elves, forever boned to this world, and as time washing away the burning love, Legolas would hate him eventually. He would blame him for taking away his place in Valar's land, for all the adversities that would erode his innocence and corrupt it into resentment and grudge. He would despise him for his weakness.

The roaring thunder resonated over the mountain and the pouring rain drenched their clothes as if the gods were condemning their love.

"I will not ask again, ada." Legolas's lips quivered, his body shaking like a wounded bird. But his voice was resolute.

Thranduil closed his eyes and said, "I can't."

He couldn't damn his son to the perdition of loss and void. His green leaf belongs to the light, not darkness, not sinfulness, and he could not be the one to pull him down!

And that was it.

It was decided, and Legolas knew that he had to stifle his longing, to forget his unrealistic expectations, and accept, truly accept, that he would never be with the one he loves. That it was an unrequited, hopeless love.

He stood in the rain, and the raindrops tasted salty. Maybe it was his tear, rather than rain, soaking him in this cold, suffocating reality. Yet he pulled out a wry smile and nodded to himself, "I understand. I accept your decision. "

The bitterness echoed in the King's heart, and Thranduil wasn't sure if he was already regretted it. He reached out a hand as if trying to retrieve what he had given up, but Legolas was already turning away, rushed to leave before his barely held composure breaking down.

It was over.

For the next day, Legolas showed no sign of yesterday's paroxysm. The Prince even appeared at the dinner table, all courteous and poised, reporting about the Starlight Festival preparations with a steady, casual tone.

Thranduil observed him carefully and was trying to bring up the topic of where he saw the memories. He had already composed a letter for Lord Elrond and Gandalf, inquiring about the risk of seal breaching, but he hoped to get more information about the latest development. However he felt like walking on a thin thread and didn't know if such a question would trigger something painful, so he didn't bring it up. He thought they would have all the time they need, to wait for the freshly gutted wound to heal. But he was wrong.

After centuries of relatively placid days, when things happened, they came like an avalanche. The Dwarves escaped, and Orcs secretly invaded the ancient Elven Kingdom. Legolas and Tauriel captured one Orc, and when hearing the unsettling information that he tricked out of the foul creature's slimy mouth, he lost his tranquil for a moment and beheaded Orc instantly.

"My master serves the one." Said the Orc. And the words haunted the Elven King like a curse.

Thranduil didn't want Legolas to think about the Necromancer of Dol Guldur, didn't want the Prince's already marred mind to be disturbed by such news.

Maybe Legolas was right all along when he suspected the necromancer was Sauron. And if it was true, it meant Legolas truly sold his soul to the dark lord.

He didn't dare to imagine what did it imply.

He hastily sealed the Kingdom and wrote another letter to Elrond to inform him of the newest development. But before his letter had the chance to reach Imladris, Legolas was gone with the rebelling Elven Captain Tauriel.

**********

Several days later.

Legolas stood on the bank, watching the miserable people trying to haul their scarcely left belongings from the wrecked boats, hugging in joyful tears with their survived kins even though they'd just lost everything overnight. From afar, dark smoke was still billowing from the charred Laketown, and the air reeked the smell of burning wood and roasted flesh.

He didn't expect any of these when he followed Tauriel to track down the Orcs and the Dwarves. Last night while slaying the Orcs he met Bolg again. Azog's son apparently remembered him well and gave him a "hearty welcome" by slamming him into walls or wooden beams over and over, and that hideous creature had the gut to trap him in those enormous arms and whispered into his ear wickedly, "I've been dreaming of taking you from behind like this, pretty princeling."

Legolas was furious and managed to fight the Goblin off. He made an attempt to chase after the Orcs, but half-way through the pursuing, he heard the horrifying roar of the dragon, and worrying about Tauriel's safety, he decided to return and investigate the mark of Gundabad later.

He had never seen such a depressive scene before. Many men and women and children wandering on the lake bank aimlessly, not knowing where to go and how to continue to live after the unexpected catastrophe. It made his heartache and compelled him to forget his seemly trivial heartbreaking for the time being.

The Laketown's newly elected leader was a bargeman, whose name was ironically Bard. Though this Bard was way much more muscular and rugged than the bard Feandir, and was also much more virtuous. A hero who slaughtered the dragon and saved countless lives would surely make it into one of those Ballads.

With covert amusement, Legolas also noticed that Bard's facial features shared certain similarities with himself, only rougher on details. If not knowing Thranduil hadn't left Woodland Realm for centuries and that this man definitely didn't have a single drop of Elven blood in his vein, he would have thought that he had an estranged brother.

He liked the bargeman and decided to warn them of the possible forthcoming danger. But soon, a messenger of Woodland Realm came with the King's order: Thranduil wanted him to go back, and Tauriel was exiled.

"Go and tell my father, if there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me." He answered determinedly, ignoring the stunning expression on the herald's face.

It was the first time he blatantly defying his father's order in front of other elves, and it felt good.

"He is my King, but he does not command my heart." He muttered quietly, promising himself that it was time to live for himself, to do the things that he'd always wanted to do rather than living up to his father's expectation.

He sympathized with Tauriel but also envious of her. She fell in love with a Dwarf, which would never end well since no Dwarves clan would accept an Elf, but at least she could still hope, could still try to save and protect the one she loved, and to show the affection in front of everyone. Whilst he could only bury it into the grave of his heart, seal it with layers after layers of cement, waiting for it to rot in the lightless void.

Maybe he shouldn't have stopped her from leaving with that Dwarf Kili. Had he known that Thranduil would exile her, he would have let her go. At least she could have been happy with the one she loved, even though the happiness might not last long.

Nevertheless, Legolas did not expect Thranduil would come with an army.

Upon returning with Tauriel to notifying the Laketown people and the Dwarves about the marching Legion from Gundabad, Legolas was astounded to find his own people fighting alongside Dwarves and Men against Orcs. For a moment, he actually thought Thranduil came to find him, to save him, to take him home, but then he realized with a detached disappointment that his father must have heard Smaug's death and came to reclaim the White Gems of Lasgalen.

So much for not putting his subjects into unnecessary dangers...Legolas almost rolled his eyes.

He searched the chaotic slaughtering scene with keen and worried eyes, trying to locate the giant elk, which shouldn't be hard to find. Instead, he found Gandalf and Bilbo.

"Where is my father?" Questioned Legolas pressingly after delivered his warning.

"He was in the center of the City."

Without a second word, Legolas dashed toward the direction the Wizard pointed, slaying dozens of Orcs on the way. He found the elk's body lay on the ground, with several arrows stuck on its once strong and elegant body. His heart sank and panic arose. Images of a bloody Thranduil collapsing on the ground filled his mind and was driving him mad. His sword and arrows were even more deadly. Everywhere he went, a trail of Orcs bodies was left behind.

However as he approached the center, the number of Orcs reduced significantly. Most of them were mutilated bodies piled on the side, mingled with his kin's bodies and men and women and even children. It was such a tragic battle, and he had never seen so much death and suffering. The war against Angmar happened when he was merely an elfling and was well protected within the palace walls, and now he finally understood what evil his father and mother had faced.

Suddenly the sunshine and the ethereal song of the forest was far far away, and the reality of the world revealed its malevolent face and sharpened fangs.

Then he heard voices of quarrel.

"I beg you, Lord, we need your help!"

It was Bard, the bargeman. Legolas was glad that he survived, but then he saw the other golden figure.

Thranduil was in his silver armours. Legolas hadn't seen his father in armours for ages, and it still looked so mighty and captivating on him. The usually tidy and shiny King now had bloodstains on his high cheekbones, silky hair dishevelled from fierce fighting, but all of the disorderliness only superimposed a strange beauty of wildness over his magnificence.

"I've helped you when you were in great need, Bard. This is not my fight."

"I know I own you! I will repay you with my everything! I will do anything! " Bard implored desperately, "please stay! "

Thranduil's grim eyes softened. The kind of gaze that Legolas had seen many times through the long years. It was a tenderness that he would grant to his lovers occasionally. The King gently touched the bargeman's cheek and rejoined, "Thank you for last night, but...I have my duty."

Legolas didn't know that his hand that clutching the sword was shaking. He knew he had no right to be angry, but he just...couldn't help.

It had been more than a hundred years since Feandir, and it was only normal that his father found a new companion. Besides, it probably was just a one-night thing, nothing serious...And right now he really shouldn't focus on such inappreciable matters since they could all die in the next second.

But he still hurt, and it hurt badly.

Legolas quietly left with a brave face and determined not to let it affect him, but when he killed again, he killed with rage and excessive force, and the blade was drenched with Orc blood.

Legolas wasn't sure at which moment that he finally made the decision:

He would not go back should he survive this war.

Notes:

Aragorn is finally going to show up in the next chapter, took me more chapters than I thought to get to him XD.

Chapter 34

Summary:

The meet of destiny

Legolas stood on the frozen cliff, watching wordlessly as Tauriel weeping over Kili's lifeless body. Her weeping was quiet yet incessant, so heartbreaking that even the strongest heart would have shuttered by the sound of it.

The war was over, but with a grave cost.

Several times during the war, Legolas thought he was going to die. But he survived nonetheless.

Another wailing sound echoed among the ice-sealed ruins of Ravenhill, so full of inconsolable pain, loss and regret. It was Bilbo, and Legolas knew that Thorin was gone, too.

Even though never had much chance to exchange since the last conversation they had in the dungeon, Legolas and Thorin had been tacitly helping each other. While the Dwarves were escaping, Legolas helped slaughtered majorities of the chasing Orcs, and Thorin saved him once by throwing his axe toward an Orc sneaking up to his back.

Then on Ravenhill, he helped Thorin fight off incoming Orcs by shooting arrows from the high tower. And during the final battle with Bolg, the giant Goblin's strength was way beyond Legolas that every time his knives collided with Bolg's mace, his wrists shook in pain. If not Thorin throw that Orc at Bolg expediently, Bolg's mace would have split his head open. When Thorin's life was on a thread while an Orc was about to smash him, Legolas gave up the Orcrist by throwing it through the Orc's chest and thus returned it to its former owner.

The last time their eyes met was when Thorin looked down from the edge of the ice lake and saw Legolas being knocked down by Bolg. It was a quick exchange, but Legolas could still see the familiar care in those dark blue eyes.

And now, he would never more be able to see those eyes that have seen too many vicissitudes. The images of that one night they shared would be sealed into the amber of his mind and never fade with time.

He wished they would have met on other occasions. Maybe they would have been friends, good friends.

He hoped that Thorin's last moment was with the hobbit he had grown so fond of, and that his departure was in peace.

Back to the calamitous scene in front of him, Legolas realized that he couldn't console Tauriel. The pain of watching your love being slew can never be consoled, and the wound may never heal. There was nothing more he could do.

He turned to leave in pensive taciturnity.

Meanwhile, a tall, golden figure trod across the dingy corridors, frantically scouring for any glimpse of golden colour among the strewed Orc bodies. Thranduil worried that he had come too late. Everything was so quiet, and he'd seen not a single thing alive.

He didn't expect to find his son in Dale as Bard told him Legolas went north with Tauriel. He was in a rage when Tauriel blocked his way, trying to stop him from abandoning Dwarves and accused him passionately.

"There is no love in you." She reproved with disdain and sadness, for she knew too well of Legolas's years after years struggle to gain the King's affection and failed.

How dare she?

She knew nothing of what he had been through, of how much he had lost and how much he still wanted to love but had to restrain himself. She only loved that Dwarf for several days, and now she had the insolence to accuse him, who had suffered love for thousands of years, of having no love?!

"What do you know of love? Nothing!" the dispassionate semblance receded, and Thranduil pointed his sword to Tauriel's throat, "what you feel for that Dwarf is not real. You think it is love? Are you ready to die for it?"

Then Legolas suddenly showed up, pushing away his sword while confronted him grimly, "if you harm her, you will have to kill me."

Thranduil's expression changed instantly. He was relieved to see Legolas was alive and unscathed, but was also baffled by the cold anger blazing on his son's countenance.

"Legolas, I come to take you home! You will come with me!" Thranduil commanded in his stately voice.

But Legolas only sneered defiantly, "no, you didn't come for me. You come for my mother's gem. "

Thranduil's eyes widened. He could feel a profound disappointment and defeat that was hurting his son but couldn't understand the source of it. He had felt it a while ago when he told Bard that he would retreat and thought Legolas was in danger. He was about to leave the battle to find his son and now, there he was, gazing at him with unspoken accusations.

"Do not be childish! Now is not the time!"

"I have never been a child. A child had to grow up fast when there is no one loves him. Tauriel was wrong. You had love. But it died with my mother."

The words were like sharp needles tearing at Thranduil's heart. Half was from himself, and the other half from Legolas's agony.

Legolas then left with Tauriel without looking back.

Thranduil froze in place, watching Legolas disappeared around the corner until the Wizard's voice shook him out of the shock and wistfulness.

"Those gems were not all your wife left you, my friend. She left you a son. Tell me which would she have you value more."

Thranduil looked into Gandalf's deep eyes and then rushed toward the same direction Legolas went.

He couldn't find his son. He and the soldiers slew every Orc they'd met on the way up to Ravenhill until they couldn't find more. But where was Legolas?

There was no acute pain echoing from Legolas, and it could mean that Legolas was unharmed or dead. Thranduil feared the worst.

And he had never been so afraid.

"Please...Valar..."He muttered to himself while searching unavailingly.

Finally, Legolas bumped into him at a corner. Thranduil quickly examined the Prince and was so relieved to find that Legolas was mostly unharmed. But before he was able to say anything, to apologize or to find a way to persuade Legolas to return to him, the Prince spoke quietly, "I...cannot go back."

Thranduil knew then that he had lost Legolas.

Yeas after years of neglection, and then all the chaos of lust and love, the longing and sin, the misunderstandings and repudiations, and the lies and subreptions...

He had pushed Legolas away, and it was too late to fix it.

He could still force the Prince to stay by his side, but what good would it do? He couldn't give Legolas what he wants, and keeping him at his side would be selfish and cruel.

So he didn't try to detain him, didn't try to dissuade him. He told Legolas to go north, to find Arathon's grown-up son, who was called the "Strider" by the Dúnedain.

And then, the Elven King let go of his green leaf.

**********

Seven years later.

Aragorn exhaled in relief as he entered the dry and warm tavern of Archet. It was never a pleasant thing to travel in a pouring, cold and miserable night like this, especially when he was exhausted from ambushing a small group of Orcs who tried to rob a travelling merchant.

He settled himself on a seat near the hearth quietly, too quiet that even the barmaid didn't notice his existence and walked right past him. It was a perfect demonstration of just how cryptic and elusive a ranger could be, like a shadow flitting through without a trace, but it could also cause inconvenience, like being ignored presently.

However when he took off his sodden mantle, the barmaid noticed him right away. In fact he captured all of the few present ladies' attention once their sight encountered his harsh and yet eminently handsome face. His eyes were so deep like the dark, dormant sea in the west. One glimpse would have drowned your soul with their grace and mystery.

Soon another man joined him, similar build and attire, but with a pronounced scar cross over his nose.

"You are late. " Said the second man in a low growling voice.

Aragorn looked around, "where are the others?"

"Also late." Grunted the man, "or maybe they are not coming."

"Two of us is not enough." Aragorn stated the fact, and then his solemn lips curled slightly, "how are you, Dringon?"

"Peachy, though not drunken enough."

As they were speaking, a small stir of murmuring drew their attention to the entrance. A slender figure entered, and as he dropped the hood, his silky golden hair and glowy pale skin spontaneously illuminated the dingy tavern.

An Elf.

Aragorn couldn't help but stared. He was not unfamiliar with Elves, as they raised him. But this Elf, thought was evidently a male, was exceptionally beautiful. Aside from the breathtaking hair and skin and his delicate features, what struck him hard was the pair of pellucid eyes, as if they'd never seen anything dark and evil, pure as the morning sunlight glistening on a dew-stained green leaf.

"What is an Elf doing here?" Bewildered Dringon, and his voice dragged Aragorn's attention back.

Elves were rarely seen in Bree-land, except their travelling processions were sporadically spotted from afar among the woods and hills, and their misty songs echoed in the air. It was said that many of them were leaving, departing to the Undying Land from the Grey Havens.

Men and women gawked at the rarely seen ethereal creature as the Elf looked around, trying to find an empty table. He ignored all the buzz around him, apparently had gotten used to the effect that his appearance would have induced among the second borns.

Dringon shook his head, "He is going to get robbed the moment he steps out of here, travelling with all those Elven knives and bows and dressed in those fine tunics unwisely."

Dringon was not wrong. Several pairs of eyes gleaming with malic was following the Elf's every movement.

"He is a warrior. Robbing him would have been a mistake."

"How do you know? Carrying weapons doesn't mean he knows how to use them. Look at his thin arms. What can those arms wield except quills?"

"Want to make a bet?" A glimpse of mischief flit through Aragorn's eyes.

Dringon grinned, "fifty coins."

"Deal."

The Elf sat at a barstool and asked the bartender, "excuse me, sir. I am looking for a man called the 'strider.' Have you heard of him?"

The words reached the two ranger's acute ears, and they looked at each other in perplexity.

Dringon asked, "you know him?"

Aragorn shook his head in confusion.

"Ah, yes, master Elf! I've heard the name a lot but have never seen him. Them Rangers were secretive people. Some said that they know dark magics to make themselves invisible!" Rejoined the bartender.

The Elf sighed in disappointment and ordered some food but no drink.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Inquired Dringon.

Aragorn contemplated for a while and said, "no, we have matters to discuss. "

Soon another three Rangers entered the tavern to join them, and Aragorn never paid attention to the Elf again as they were developing a plan to drive off a clan of Orcs and bandits that were gathering in the Chetwood. And when all the details were settled, and he raised up to search for the Elf, the latter was nowhere to be seen.

It was already dawn by then, and the rain had stopped. Not many people left on the first floor except for some drunken lads, and an exhausted barmaid was sweeping the floor. Aragorn and his companions left shortly after, marching into the woods to locate the nearest bandit camp. The track had soon led them to a group of thugs who were following a familiar golden figure.

The Elf rambled with his white horse by his side, appeared to be oblivious of the looming danger as the thugs surrounded him soundlessly.

Maybe Dringon was right after all...Aragorn was about to give the order to take those thugs down, suddenly the Elf stopped.

"Show yourselves." Commanded the Elf in a husky, dangerous voice.

The Rangers weren't sure if the Elf were talking to them, so they kept the low profile. Meanwhile, a dozen men appeared from the shadows of the shrubs and trees. Some of them were in the tavern previously.

"What does a pretty little thing like you do in such a deserted place?" The bandit head, a burly, big man with a bald head and scar on his eyes, approached the Elf with a wretched smile, "didn't your Elf parents teach you don't travel alone?"

The Elf showed no sign of recoil, even seemed a bit bored by the uninspired threaten, "I would leave in peace if I were you."

"Oh, scary!" The thug rejoined mockingly, "I plan to leave with your golds in my pocket and you as my slave. How does that sound?"

The thugs around them guffawed and heckled, but the Elf was unmoved.

"If you must try." Smirked the Elf.

And the next few moments, Aragorn and his companions witnessed one of the most incredible fight scenes they'd ever seen.

The Elf was so fast and weightless, and it was hard to catch his movement. His attack was precise and quick, and yet with astonishing concinnity that it looked like dancing rather than killing. He flew and jumped among the trees with the dexterity of a canary, and his arrows rained down mercilessly, pinning the thugs to the ground.

Within a few minutes, all the thugs were whining and rolling on the ground in agony.

The Elf stood proud amidst them, and his sharp stare located at the exact place Aragorn hid.

"I hope you enjoyed the show, Rangers."

Aragorn stood up, revealing himself from the shelter of the vegetation. Other Rangers followed, and Dringon grumpily threw a pouch of coins to him.

Aragorn caught the pouch with a cheeky smile and then put on a respectful face as he approached the Elf.

"Very impressive." Complimented the Ranger.

The Elf sized him up with critical eyes and then asked, "Which of you is the Strider?"

Aragorn replied challengingly, "Who is asking?"

The Elf tilted his chin proudly, "I am Legolas from the Woodland Realm."

Chapter 35

Summary:

Joining the Rangers

Notes:

I wanted to post it earlier but this week is soooo busy for me. I will try to post another chapter on Sunday :)
And Thranduil's suffering will thus begin hahahaha (Im so evil)
But the main pairing is still Thrandolas in this story, so there will still be a happy ending for them (as promised :D)

Legolas, the name sounded familiar. Aragorn quickly searched all the information that he had stored in his capable mind for twenty-seven years and remembered that his foster father, Lord Elrond, mentioned that the Elven King Thranduil had a Prince, and his name was Legolas.

The green leaf of Mirkwood.

"You are the Prince of Mirkwood, "Aragorn spoke in Elvish, which was hard for other Arnor Rangers to understand because he sensed Legolas's unwillingness to reveal his identity.

"You speak Sindarin well." Legolas slanted his head and observed the Ranger with interest, "I surmise you are the Strider then. You are younger than I thought, even by men's standard."

Aragorn had just turned 28 by then, three years beyond the majority age of a Númenórean, and he secretly hated being called young. When you were raised by a bunch of Elven folks among whom even the youngest ones were centries years old, you would always be the "young one" and got tons of sententious preach even if you were just trying to make small talks. 

It was rather liberating when he became a Ranger and started to live with other mortals.

But Aragorn was a decorous man, so he decided to ignore his little saltiness.

"You are far from your home, my lord." Aragorn remarked with poise, "And I do not recall that we've met before?"

"No, we haven't met."

"And yet you are here, thousands of miles from home and looking for a stranger?"

Legolas rolled his eyes and replied in Westron, "don't flatter yourselves. I didn't come all the way for you. I have been travelled for years and tracked down several clans of Orcs migrating to this area. They raided several villages on the way already. I was hoping to get you to help me locate their camps."

Dringon interpolated amusingly, "You want us to help you do our job?"

Legolas shifted his gaze toward him and the other three perplexed Rangers, his countenance grave with concern, "Evil is rising, and they come here for a reason. Angmar has stirred again. Many Orc clans are aggregating around here, waiting for the call of their master. It is not just your duty to protect the north anymore, Ranger."

One younger Ranger whispered into Dringon's ear quietly, "what rising evil is he talking about?"

"Elves always talks in riddles, don't trouble your tiny brain with it."Grunted Dringon.

Yet Aragorn, who had received letters from Lord Elrond not very long ago, knew the underlying meaning of the Elf's words. But still, it was rather unusual for a lone Elf to venture outside of their lands and try to do Rangers' work.

But they had a more important mission at hand, so Aragorn admonished, "A Goblin tribe is planning to attack Archet tonight. We will handle them during the day while they are sleeping. You should leave these woods now, it is going to be bloody."

"I will come with you." Insisted the Elf.

Dringon laughed as if he heard something childish, "This is no game elfling. We Rangers only work with Rangers, no amateur outsiders."

Legolas, who was already annoyed by Dringon's insolence and abrasive manners, replied with a grim, fierce glaring, "call me elfling again and my arrow will pierce your tongue, since you don't know how to use it properly."

The other three Rangers booed and hooted, as Dringon was quite intimidating and no one dared to talk back to his unpalatable persiflages. It was downright refreshing to see someone finally jabbed back.

Dringon was mortified. He was about to open his mouth to start a cursing duel before Aragorn raised a hand, gesticulating him to shut up.

"It is going to be very dangerous. We Rangers have our ways, and I cannot be distracted to take care of you."Aragorn's voice was harsh with the warning, but the Elf didn't faze.

"Rest assured, I do not need any 'care.' It will be miraculous enough if any of you don't slow me down." The haughty Elf refuted, and proceeded to turn to his horse, whispered something in elvish. The horse nickered in reply and pranced away.

"You are not actually allowing him to come with us, are you?" Dringon gawked at Aragorn incredulously.

Aragorn sighed and shrugged, "I can't force him to leave. Besides, we could use some Elvish abilities."

The Rangers moved in the woods with ease and suppleness that were rear found in men. Though not as weightless as an elf, their steps were soundless and prudent, leaving no obvious traces for others to follow. They rarely talk lest their voices alert the enemies, and all the communications were done through quick and succinct hand gestures. Legolas watched in awe as the Rangers slewing the patrol Orcs and approaching the Goblin tribe's cave under the hill in a silent, strategical and synchronized way, as if they could all read each other's mind.

Once inside the cave, the sunlight soon receded and dank, mouldy darkness. The Rangers proceeded cautiously as they could not see much in the darkness yet were reluctant to procure any luminescence. However the Elf moved as fast and effortless as before, for his keen eyes could see in the darkest places. Soon Aragorn heard several short muffled gruntle sound, followed by a succession of dull thumps. As other Rangers anxiously closed in the sound source, they found several Orcs' bodies deserted on the ground.

The Elf was indeed way faster than them. Across the intricated tunnels, they didn't even need to do much hiding or fighting, as Legolas had cleared the way. Orcs bodies and slippery, stinky blood were their only obstacles. As Dringon carefully lit up a match and the hazy light, they saw five giant Orc bodies sprawling in this passage, and the Elf was nowhere to be seen.

"And I thought Elves are gentle, delicate folks." Grunted the red-haired Ranger.

The youngest Ranger murmured in revere, "we are lucky that we are not his enemies..."

When they finally caught up the Elf, the latter was hiding behind a boulder, spying at the squirming Goblins sleeping on the lower floor.

The cave was packed with marauded belongings and treasures that used to belong to men or hobbits. There were also men and women's limbs scattered around, some of them half-eaten, bloody internal organs exposed in the air, rotting between the Goblins' yellow teeth. Some of the victims' eyes were still opened, frozen in the moment of horror forevermore.

These morbid, sick creatures of wickedness...they had caused enough pain, death and suffering. The Rangers vowed silently to avenge them.

"What took you so long?" Legolas smirked at Aragorn cheekily.

Aragorn, who was still young and proud and didn't want to admit that someone bettered him at his own forte, reproved quietly, "you shouldn't have been so careless, what if any of those things you killed made a sound and alerted all of them!"

Legolas rolled his eyes, "but they didn't."

The Ranger continued solemnly: "If you want to work with us, then you have to consider other people." 

Legolas was annoyed. He did not expect the legendary Strider to be so...fussy, petty and bossy...

Aragorn swiftly glanced at the lower floor and estimated the number of the enemy. 

"There are more than fifty of them," Legolas told him, rather curious how do they plan to take down so many giant Goblins by only five men.

Aragorn turned to other men and said, "the leader should be the one with one ear. I will try to get to him first. Move fast and silent, take down as much as you can, and after Dringon set up the smog pots, make as much noise as you can."

Legolas didn't have time to inquire what was a smog pot as everyone had already scattered, descending from different directions like shapeless shadows. Legolas didn't move. The higher ground was a better position for an Archer since he could see everything happening down below.

He witnesses the fabulous cooperation between the Rangers. They merged themselves perfectly into the darkness, didn't disturb a single piece of dust. Several Goblins were resting farther than others, and they were the first targets been cleaned. The Rangers sneaked up to them like nightmares, sharp daggers cut their throats clean and fast like drawing a red line. Aragorn was the fastest one. He quietly ventured into the huddles of Goblins, each step planted precisely at the designated place that would skillfully avoid contact with any sprawling limb. He was only five steps away from the leader, sword in hand, ready to take out the head of the horde. Regrettably, one Goblin scout entered the cavern from another entrance and let out a long, bone-chilling squeal.

Soon all the Goblins stirred, and the leader opened his beady eyes, locking on Aragorn spontaneously. However he didn't have time to react before the Ranger threw a knife right into his left eye. The creature roared in pain and rage but was appeared to be dying any time soon. He was twice bigger than a regular Goblin, had thick, armour-like skin, and thus was extremely hard to kill. He picked up his giant mace and smashing it down toward Aragorn.

While the other four rangers were still hiding in the shadows, Aragorn was right in the middle of the cyclone as Goblins swarmed up to him. The Ranger evaded the leader's several attacks agilely but was a little hectic as he had to heed for other Goblin's attack too.

All of a sudden the Goblins near him began to fall one by one. Each had an arrow on their head or throat. Aragorn raised his gaze and found a glimpse of gold behind the boulder, and arrows were flying down like whistling reapers. Several arrows stubbed into the leader's mountain-like body, and one even pierced his hideous face, but he just wouldn't drop and die. Aragorn once again leaped toward the leader, and when he was about to be hit by the blood-stained, fang-covered mace, the Ranger suddenly dropped down, slid through the gap between the giant Goblin's legs with swiftness like an Elf and cut his hamstring. The leader wailed and fell, and Aragorn pushed his sword into his other eye deeply. The monster spasmed violently for a while and finally stopped moving.

Meanwhile Legolas noticed Dringo quickly set up multiple small pouch-like items in clefts of the rocks. And as Aragorn slew the leader, he lit a match and ignited a thread linking to one of the pouches. Gushes of dust exploded and inundated all, and the explosion continued at each place where the pouch was buried. 

In the dust there were flying shadows, flashing knives and Goblins' screaming echoing from every direction, as if there were a hundred men, rather than five, were marching into the nest of the Goblins. Without a leader, the rest of the Goblins were bewildered and funky like trapped rats. They squealed and ran into the deeper cave in fear, retreating to the farther tunnels leading toward Midgewater Marshes.

Within less than half an hour, the Goblins deserted the cave, left behind dead bodies and stolen goods littering about. The Rangers were mostly unscathed, except for minor scratches.

Legolas leaped down to the ground, silently admired the Ranger's work. He had to admit that even his best-trained warriors couldn't have expelled the whole nest of Goblins with so few numbers of them. The Númenórean Rangers were truly great warriors.

The Rangers quickly gathered all the stolen goods that they could carry and left the cave. They never stopped to converse as if they had been knowing each other so well that language was not necessary anymore. Legolas followed them until they were at a safe distance from any known Orc tribes, and the Rengers decided to stop to camp.

"Why is he still with us?" Dringon whispered to Aragorn while gathering dry woods with him.

"The Elf?"

"Of course the Elf!"

"It is getting late. We can't ask him to leave at this hour. He could run into Orcs."

Dringon mumbled something illegible, and Aragorn clasped his shoulder, "don't be so grumpy. He helped us a lot today."

"I just don't like the idea that an outsider joined us so easily. He will cause trouble."

Before sunset, they started a fire and began to cook dinner. Tonight they would have beef stew and Archet ale. The full-bodied smell of meat and tomato brewed in the warm, orange dusklight, making the already hungry Rangers surrounded the boiling pot like a pack of wolf drooling with eagerness. 

Aragorn noticed the Elf stood on a nearby rock, out looking into the far east where night had fallen with a forlorn, longing expression. The spreading dimness blurred the distant shapes of the grandeur Misty Mountain.

Twilight limned the Elven Prince's lineament with soft rosy gold. His hair and skin were reflecting the last twilight as if he was glowing. 

He is breathtaking. Thought the young Ranger.

"Is he not eating with us? Do Elves even eat men's food? " The youngest Ranger Thilion asked while tentatively peeked at Legolas.

"They probably don't eat at all, judging by how thin they are." The red-haired Ranger Nimdor remarked.

Aragorn grabbed a bowl and walked up to Legolas before his companions make more crass banters. 

"You should eat." 

Legolas gave him a dirty look, "do you always talk to others in such a domineering tone?"

Aragorn was a little taken aback. He had been the Chieftain of Dúnedain for more than two years and was used to give orders. He didn't even realize that he was being...authoritarian. 

He sighed and switched to a softer and histrionic voice, "does your highness wish to taste some humble beef stew?"

Legolas tittered and accepted the bowl, "see, it sounds much nicer."

Aragorn smiled and stood beside the Elf, appreciating the beautiful scenery of sunset.

"Missing your home?" Asked the Ranger, "you are looking at the direction of Mirkwood."

A shadow of gloom and sadness flitted across Legolas's countenance, "yes. I thought seven years is a short time for an Elf, but I do miss my homeland."

"Seven years? It took you long enough to find me." the Ranger's smile was tinged with a tiny hint of smugness.

"I told you I didn't come for you!"

"No, you didn't. Since middle earth is so small that you just happen to come to Bree-land and run into us." More subtle sarcasm.

Legolas rolled his eyes, but he knew there was no point to keep denying. He admitted, "my father knew your father. He said he was a good man, and his son may have grown into one as well. "

Aragorn's eyes widened. He didn't have the chance to know his own father, since when he was only two, Arathorn was slain by Orcs. 

"Have you met my father?" Aragorn enquired.

Legolas shooked his head, "I was patrolling at frontier when he visited Woodland Realm. My father spoke highly of him, which is a miracle if you know the King. He must have been extremely charming."

"King Thranduil is indeed an august King, from what I've heard."Aragorn paused for a second and added in amusement, "I've heard about you, too. When I was in Imladris."

"Was it from the twins? Don't believe a single word they said."

"Did you really put hot pepper power into Elladan and Elrohir's drinks?"

"They deserved it."

Aragorn laughed heartily. Other Rangers regarded in awe as Aragorn was rather overly prudent and solemn for a  young man, and they rarely hear him laugh.

Legolas sat down and tentatively took a morsel of the stew with a skeptical expression. He deemed it was actually quite delectable as he had had worse during the seven years of adventure. How he missed the food in the King's Halls!

Aragorn sat beside him. They watched the last ray of sunlight dissipated into a dark blue, and the stars shyly emerged from the deep canopy.

"Why did you leave Mirkwood?" Aragorn asked whilst liting his pipe.

Legolas paused for a while as if pondering how much information he should volunteer, then answered, "I want to see the world as it is. I was...sheltered most of the times in my life."

"And your highness wish to be a Ranger?" teased Aragorn.

"Let's not go that far." Legolas chortled before ask, "but I would like to help if you would have me." He glanced at other Rangers and added, "though I conjecture not everyone likes me since no one said a word to me except you and that grumpy one."

"They are just shy. Thilion for example is completely enamored by your charm." 

Legolas smiled and glanced at Aragorn, "So I can stay?"

Aragorn gazed at him, considering the offer. The Ranger had a pair of deep, solitary and yet gentle eyes, beautifully collecting the glistening starlight in the gray irises' depth. Even though his appearance was ragged from days of living in the wilderness, he embodied a natural grace and nobility that attracted almost anyone around him.

Legolas couldn't help but recalled a lyric from a song: drowning in the sea of your eyes.

"Yes, you can stay with us, under one condition. " 

"And what is it?"

"You have to follow my lead."Aragorn remarked with gravity, "Ranger's works are dangerous and full of incertitude. Everyone has to do their part to ensure the safety of common folks and our own associates. I know you are a Prince, but if you genuinely want to join us defending the north, I am afraid I have to treat you like others."

Legolas nodded and rejoined with dignified earnest, "I understand the discipline of Rangers, and I would be offended if you give me any special treatment."

Chapter 36

Summary:

Thranduil missed his son

Thranduil locked the door of his chamber and sauntered into his bedroom. The candles burned dimly, and the luxury furnishings all looked dull and lifeless as if an invisible mantle of melancholy shrouded everything in his life.

Legolas had been gone for seven long years. It was merely a blink of an eye for an immortal Elf, and Thranduil thought he could bear it. He was wrong.

Each second was as long as a year, and each day was extending to eternity. Legolas left the Palace and went on patrol frequently before, but at least he had known that his green leaf was near, somewhere he could reach, somewhere he could find. But now, the vestiges of Legolas were fading so fast that even if he slipped into the Prince's room during midnight when no one would have seen him, he could no longer pick up the refreshing smell of the Prince from his bed sheet or his clothes. 

Day by day, the King's morale depleted like a well slowly dried up under a scorching, merciless sun. The halls appeared to be gloomier, and the guards and servants did not dare to raise their voices. Galion was at the end of his wit as he watched the King waned into plaintiveness, for not even the finest wine could have lifted Thranduil's spirit.

The only temporary relief from this hopeless depression was when Bard the Bowman occasionally visited during the first several years, and it was only because the man resembled Legolas uncannily. He tried hard to search for the shadow of his son in the honourable man's every expression and movement, but often disappointed, for Bard's steady and stern temperament was entirely different from the Prince. Their short-lived relationship ended four years after the battle, but the friendship between Dale and the Woodland Realm persisted.

He could feel some stir of excitement or sadness or wistfulness from Legolas every day, and their connection was both a comfort to his worrisome mind and a torment of his longing soul. He couldn't help but wonder where Legolas was, what he was doing and who he had met. He was grateful that he still had this one connection with his son, that he could still somehow be a part of Legolas's life.

Thranduil had trouble sleeping. He drank more and more wine, contrive to sedate himself into comatose sleep unavailingly. He gazed into the dark crimson rippling in his goblet yet not seeing anything. Thoughts were soaring in his ice-blue irises like a whirlpool. Then he put down the cup and once again left his chamber, trod across the intricated passages and bridges, and stopped outside of Legolas's room.

It had become his habit, an unhealthy one. But just like all unhealthy habits, it was hard to quit. He made sure there were no patrolling guards around and entered the room. It was dark and empty as always, and he dared not to lit any candles. 

He lied on Legolas's bed, clutching at the silk on the pillow and closed his eyes, trying to find a trace of the diminished smell. Beside the bed, other furnishings of the room was dusty since he forbade anyone to enter the room to clean it, and the chalky smell made him feel like he was lying in a tomb, a derelict memory of the past. 

Still unable to sleep, Thranduil rose up and commenced to look around. His long fingers traced over the table, chairs, cushions, lingering on each personal item and left a long, fitful line across the dust layer. He had visited the room many times throughout the past seven years, yet he hadn't really dug into the drawers or cabinets. Perhaps he thought Legolas would come back soon and didn't want his son to know that he had been in his room and went through his things. However, now he knew that the Prince would not return in any foreseeable future, so why bother to restrain himself from looking for more solace?

He aimlessly opened one of the chests used for storing morning gowns and sleeping robes and then froze in place.

Inside the chest was a dark orb, illuminating eerie and threadlike yellow light in the darkness. 

The seeing stone!

How did Legolas procure it?! They searched every corner of the Palace and couldn't find it...Was it Feandir's doing?

It all made sense now. This cursed thing enabled Legolas to see his own memory!

Why would Legolas do such a foolish thing! The stone was contaminated by Sauron, and looking into it was like inviting a fire to burn oneself!

Thranduil quickly threw some cloth over it and turned to leave in apprehension. But his step slowed down as he approached the door.

He contemplated something that he knew was wrong, but the temptation was dominating his desire, overriding his rationality. Thranduil turned around and sauntered back to the chest, lifted the clothes reluctantly.

The orb stared him back blankly and harmlessly, even looked a little dull. 

He'd heard that the seeing stone can show you past, present and future and anything you want to know. It was the gateway to knowledge hidden under the befuddled realities and was supposed to be a sacred item rather than a cursed one.

Sauron had been expelled to Mordor by Mithrandil, the White Wizard, Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel, and Dol Guldur was once again abandoned by its master. The infestation of the forest, despite hadn't shown any sign of ameliorating, had slowed down its spreading speed. According to the guards in charge of sending food to the only prisoner in the secrete dungeon, Feandir had been wailing and crying that his master had abandoned him.

Maybe Sauron's influence on the stone had wavered.

Thranduil gingerly picked up the stone, feeling relieved as he perceived nothing evil or portentous coming from it. He looked into the stone, muttering a command in Elvish.

"Show me my son."

And then he saw.

Under the glistening sea of the starlight, Legolas's hair shimmered like liquid silver. His son was not sleeping in spite of the late hour. He was sitting under a birch, attentively changing the string for his bow while quietly humming a tune that Thranduil was so familiar with.

It was the song that he always sang to Legolas when he was an elfling.

Before knowing, Thranduil's eyes watered. He whispered his son's name, but no one could have heard him.

Legolas hadn't changed much in appearance, but a sense of resoluteness and confidence cultivated his spirit. He grew more assertive and steady, but the ever persisting wistfulness and forlornness also left an imprint on the young Elven soul.

Thranduil hungrily observed every lineament, every line and corner on the Prince's visage, didn't want to omit any tiny details.

And then another voice interjected.

"Which song is it? I've never heard of it before."

Legolas raised his head and a beautiful smile bloomed on his face. It was the kind of smile that the Prince reserved for people he trusted, and it burned Thranduil's heart.

"I do not know it's name. My ada used to sing it to me, to lull me into sleep when I was little."Answered the Prince with a tinge of sadness in his tone.

And then the other voice's owner entered the scope of Thranduil's horizon.

A young man with an exceptionally handsome face and a strong, hardened body. Thranduil could tell his identity when he saw him, as Aragorn's resemblance to his father Arathorn was remarkable.

So Legolas did listen to him and sought out the Dúnedain.

The Rangers returned the marauded goods to the villages that survived the Goblin tribe's raid during the day, and since there were multiple of them, they travelled a great distance, and by night everyone was exhausted. Legolas could never get used to men's undulating, thunder-like snoring sound and thus had trouble falling asleep. He gave up after two hours lying wide awake and suggested taking over the watching shift for Aragorn.

Aragorn shooked his head while settling beside the Elf, "I can't sleep too."

"What's troubling you?"

"Nothing in particular." 

"Was it about a girl?" Nagged Legolas.

Aragorn chuckled and shook his head.

"You were raised by Lord Elrond, then you must have met his daughter Arwen. I thought anyone would have fallen in love with her unmatchable beauty."

To Legolas's surprise, Aragorn said, "I haven't gotten the chance to meet her. She had been staying in Lothlorien with Lady Galadriel for a little less than two centuries. Rumours said she is coming back, though no definite date."

A century is not such a long period for an Elf, but it contains a man's lifetime. Legolas often had trouble envision how do men content with such a short life span. Even a Dúnedain, who was supposedly blessed with a longer life, could only live for about two hundred years.

It would be a shame to witness a good man like Aragorn waning into feebleness.

"I bet you will fall in love with her once you've met, for she not only has beauty but is also noble and graceful. So much better than her two brothers. "Gibed the Prince. 

Aragorn raised his eyebrow, "you have met her. Were you captivated by her beauty then?"

"We were almost gotten betrothed."

"Almost?"

"My father had then gotten huffish with your foster father, and the idea was thrown out of the window immediately." Legolas laughed gently.

Aragorn also laughed with him while realizing Legolas evaded his question. Why? From the way he spoke, it was obvious that Legolas had no romantic feeling toward the Elven Princess, was he trying to avoid potential follow-up questions: Why didn't he enamoured by her？Was there someone else that already possessed his heart?

Aragorn knew better than to pry on personal business, so he merely tabbed on Legolas's shoulder and suggested gently, "try to get some sleep. We still have a long journey ahead."

Thranduil pulled himself out from the seeing stone's visions. He panted hard, heart thumping in his chest as though going to jump out of his throat. He could see Legolas! He could watch what he was doing at the exact moment!

This was madness, and he knew how morbid and unhealthy it is, and it would destroy him eventually. But after seven long years, this was the only place where he could see his son again. 

He couldn't help it.

Thranduil tried to resist the temptation. He would bury himself into works for days so that he could forget the seeing stone's existence, but would eventually fail and locked himself into his room and watched the seeing stone for two or three days without eating. It made him feel like that he was there with his son at every step of his adventure. It gave him an illusory sense that he could protect his green leaf from the potential harms that filled the unknown roads.

So he watched Legolas ventured into the wilderness with the Rangers. Driving Orcs out of the Chetwood with smart, cryptic operations. Another six Rangers joined them during the year, and not all of them appreciate that an outsider, an elf, was with them. It was rather iconoclastic for the Chieftain to allow such a breach of their exclusive tradition. No one complained it aloud, but the sulkiness was in the air.

"I told you he will cause trouble." Dringon gruntled to Aragorn as they were setting camp near the South Downs, "A Chieftain should be the one to overthrow our tradition."

This was not the first time a similar conversation took place, and Aragorn often brushed it off. But this time, he sighed and replied, "is it still a tradition that worth holding? Look around, Dringon, we are diminishing. There aren't that much of Dúnedains left, and if we fail, the North will be like a helpless lamb standing in front of a wolf pack. We should have started to invite other people to join us. "

Dringon gasped as if Aragorn said something sacrilege, "you cannot be serious."

Aragorn was tired after a day's battle with yet another pack of trolls and was a tad more grumpy than usual, so he replied, "I am very serious. Besides, Legolas is a much better warrior than most of us, and he had saved your ass many times too, so I hope this is the last time you bring this up."

Legolas was trying to pull up a tent not too far away, and his keen ear picked their conversation. He had sensed the animosity emanated from some Rangers, but he paid not much attention to them as his skills as a warrior had earned enough respect from other Rangers. He did not care for people who had made up their mind not to like him, but hearing Aragorn defending him with such graveness was still rather satisfying. 

"Am I causing trouble for you?" Asked Legolas later, when he was gathering dry woods with Aragorn.

Aragorn glanced at him swiftly, understanding that he had overheard the previous polemic, "don't mind Dringon. He just has trusting issues."

"But you are a leader, and if they start to question your authority because of me, it will undermine the quests."

Aragorn paused, and he walked up to Legolas, looking deep into the Prince's eyes, "what they have is internalized prejudice. And I cannot allow that to dominate my decisions. For the past year you have helped us greatly. If not gratitude, they should at least show you respect. "

The genuineness in his words and the protectiveness in his eyes touched Legolas's heart. It felt good when someone cares about you and would defend your honour. Just as he was about to say something to appreciate Aragorn's support, the Ranger Leader then continued to belabor him with a serious face, "Although, you should be more careful in battles. How many times have I told you to slow down? You dashed too fast and was not paying attention if any other Rangers is following. We cannot look after your back if we can't catch up to you." 

There we go, the bossy aspect back again. Thought Legolas amusingly.

Legolas didn't worry about the few Ranger's hostilities toward him again. He thought they were harmless, just a little mistrusting. 

Until things went horribly wrong in the battle against an Orc tribe near the Weathertop.

Chapter 37

Summary:

Legolas and Aragorn were captured

"Does the Elf think he is better than all of us?" A malign whisper reached Legolas's wider-than-men earshot range. He turned to look at the owner of the remark, finding it was emanated from several Rangers walking at the back of their group. The speaker was a young Ranger called Lannor, a blonde-haired man. He was one of the Rangers that didn't receive Legolas well.

"Elves thought men are beneath them. I'm sick of their self-righteousness and authoritarian attitudes." Said Lannor's friend.

"Their time is ending anyway. I saw it once. Their procession was marching toward the Grey Haven and never came back. I wonder why isn't he leaving as the others do."

"Hey! Will you stop your petty complaining?!" Thilion, who rather adored Legolas, turned and reprehended annoyingly.

"What? Feeling protective of your pretty princess?"

"Why do you whisper? Are you afraid that he will kick your ass?"

Legolas pretended not to hear anything because he didn't want to start another argument amidst the journey toward the Weathertop, but was a little disquieted by the Rangers' growing division because of him. He surprisingly perceived moods of envy and jealousy against him, for Elves were blessed with keener sensations, immunity to illness, strong healing abilities and most of all, an immortal life. The envy rooted deeply in the collective memories of Dúnedain, for their ancestors, the majorities of the Númenóreans, rebelled against Valar because of it and were severely punished and destroyed. 

Maybe he should leave before things exacerbated .

It was a hard decision to make, as Legolas had grown fond of Aragorn and many of his companions. He'd thought that he finally found his purpose, to guard the free folks of the north, and yet he might have to give it up again.

Maybe it was time to go home...

But he wasn't ready yet.

He could not imagine going back and found Thranduil was with Bard the Bowman, could not bear to imagine watching Thranduil kissing another. For eight years he tried to stifle the forbidding love for no avail. It was still there, silently blooming like a poppy spreading its coquettish petals in darkness, showing off its sinful beauty despite lacking audiences.

No, he could not go home. Then where should he go?

Legolas inhaled deeply, trying to focus on the task at hand. He sprinted ahead, stood on a higher rock to overlook the choppy land extending to the horizon. A summit rose from the hills' undulating waves, with a broken, indented silhouette of the ancient fortress sitting on its top, and that was their destination, Weathertop.

They've procured information about one clan of Orcs gathering among the Weather Hills and frequently robbing and killing travellers on the Great East Road. Though this particular clan was different from the ones that they had dealt with for the past year. They came from Ettenmoors, organized and disciplined as if they were under someone's order. The Rangers planned to capture one Orc to interrogate for their true purpose.

It was a cloudy night and the moonlight was gloomy, but Legolas still managed to spot three Orcs rambling near the Weathertop with his sharp eyes, and no other Orcs were in sight. He informed Aragorn immediately with gestures that he had picked up over the year. The Rangers swiftly approached under the cover of mottled shadows like soundless ghosts, and it was sure to be an easy fight as their number was greater than the three Orcs.

But they were wrong.

When the shadow of the moon gave Rangers their edges, it also conceived evil within its treacherous ditches. Countless Orcs suddenly emerged from every shrub, every cleft and every fissure on the ground and surrounded them like a shoal of sharks.

"You've led us into a trap!" Lannor roared at Legolas in rage.

Legolas had no time to explain, for he was preoccupied with fighting off swarming Orcs. There were too many of them, and all came well-trained and prepared, fumed with blood-thirsty ferocity. Soon Rangers started to get wounded, and before they knew, Aragorn was shouting, "Retreat! Now!"

It was utter chaos. Rangers managed to disentangle themselves from teeth and claws and flight pell-mell. Legolas stayed two steps behind to shoot down catching up Orcs, but then decided to give up as his arrows ran out. He turned and was about to run for his life, but surprisingly found Lannor was there, an arrow pointed to...him.

He was smiling at Legolas, but the smile gave the latter bone chill.

The next thing Legolas knew, pain flared on his shin.

The Elven Prince yelped in agony as the arrow pierced his leg and rendered him tumbling to the ground.

Orcs soon caught up to him. He tried to fight them off, but it was impossible when you couldn't even stand up. Someone kicked at his belly and chest, knocked the air out of his lung, and Legolas sprawled on the ground coughing helplessly.

Aragorn heard Legolas's cry of pain and his heart sank. He turned back, knowing there was no way he could have rescued the Elf, and regardless of how irrational and stupid the decision was, he rushed back toward the Orcs, frantically swinging his sword, trying to get to the Prince desperately. 

But then he froze.

A tall, strong Orc, probably the pack leader, manhandled Legolas to a kneeling position, the callous, claw-like hand clutched at the golden hair savagely, forcing Legolas to look up, and a misshapen knife pressed on his neck so hard that blood had begun to seep out.

"Drop your weapon, or I slit your elf pet's throat." The Orc leader threatened darkly.

Aragorn dropped his sword to the ground and raised hands in resignation.

**********

A sense of fear and dreadfulness erupted in Thranduil's mind whilist he was reading a report in the study. It was obviously from Legolas and he knew right then that something went wrong. He flustered back to his chamber and took out the seeing stone, and saw the scene that petrified his whole being.

Legolas was forced to kneel in front of a hideous Orc, hair pulled roughly by the dirty hand, and his right shin was penetrated by an arrow. Though through the modified empathy link he could only perceive Legolas's emotional turmoil and not physical sensations directly, the visualization of the wound's severity still struck the King hard, and he lost his equanimity. 

He rushed out of the chamber and ordered the captain of the guard to prepare his ride and gather a small troop, and he was about to depart right away when Galion came in a hurry, trying to understand what was going on.

"My Lord! Where are you going! Is there an invasion?"

"I have to go to Weather Hills!"

"Weather Hills?! Forgive me, my Lord, but it is thousands of miles away on the other side of the Misty Mountains! It will take months to get there, and we don't even have any business in Arnor."

Galion was right. It was too far...It would have been too late...

He could send word to Lord Elrond, but it would still take at least a month to get to him...

Thranduil slumped back into his seat, looking devastated yet refused to divulge the cause of it. 

"Leave! All of you!" The King shouted in dire anguish, and the butler, guards and servants, all in startling bewilderment, excused themselves hastily, leaving Thranduil all by himself with his capricious temper.

Thranduil looked into the stone again. His hand shook slightly when lifting off the covering fabric, scared of what he might see in it.

**********
"You shouldn't have come back!" Legolas muttered to Aragorn with a low voice that only they could hear, "this is stupid. What were you thinking!"

Aragorn glanced at him, "if you were me will you come back?"

Legolas knew he would, which was in direct contradiction to his previous comment, so he kept silent.

Aragorn smiled, "exactly my point."

They were bounded to two separate trees near the Orc garrison's campsite in a sheltered valley of the Weather Hills. It was clear now that this was not the usual itinerant Orc thugs, but a troop of a bigger army from Ettenmoor, where the Witch-King had been hiding in dormancy for a thousand years.

The arrow was still in Legolas's leg. Every minute standing brought him great pain, but he tried not to let it show, knowing it would only bring more joy from the Orcs and worry the Ranger unnecessarily.

The Orc leader, whose name was Mogra, was advancing in on them with several soldiers. Both Elf and Men straightened their bodies in apprehension as they knew that the interrogation was about to begin. And though it was generally believed that Orcs didn't have tastes for arts, they were proficient in the art of torture.

"Is Isildur's heir among you Rangers? Give me his name." Mogra asked in a raspy voice. 

So that was what the trap was about.

Maybe even the robberies and murders before it were all parts of a swindle to lure the Rangers out and capture Elendil's last descendent. The Witch-King, who was said to have returned to Mordor after the Dark Lord's returning, attacked Gondor and tried to destroy the greatest Kingdom of Men. To Kill Isildur's heir was like eliminating the last hope to reunite Gondor and Arnor and thus deracinate men's morale. 

Luckily, the Orcs didn't know that they had already gotten him...

"Last Isildur's descendent Arathorn had been killed twenty-six years ago," Aragorn answered calmly.

"Arathorn was dead, but he had a son. Do you take me as a fool?" Mogra snarled as he closing in on the Ranger. His foul breath almost made Aragorn retch. 

"I don't know anything about his son. "

Slap!

Yet the anticipated blow did not fall on the Ranger's face, but Legolas's. The Elf's head was sent to the side, and his pale cheek began to swollen immediately. Legolas felt his ears were ringing, and for a few seconds he was a little disoriented, for the blow was in full power.

Aragorn's angry curse echoed in Legolas's ear, which surprised him vaguely because he had never heard the righteous man curse. But before he had a chance to find it amusing, a giant hand chocked his throat.

"You have killed many Orcs, Elfling. And my warriors are asking if they can have you for fun. " Mogra grinned with malic, sniffing at Legolas's neck like a hungry beast, "I'm sure we will enjoy your melodious scream very much."

Legolas masked his fear with dignity and disdain, but he could not contain a shiver that went through his body.

"Leave him alone! "Aragorn exclaimed in burning fury, "you are right. Isildur's heir is among us. But if you harm the Elf, I swear I will not say a single word even if you torture me to death." 

To his relief, the Orc let go of Legolas and sauntered back in front of him, "then speak."

Legolas watched Aragorn nervously, worrying that he would give out his true identity. Aragorn gave him a swift glance and then said, "his name is Aragorn."

Aragorn told the truth, for he suspected that the Orcs had already procured the name since it was not very hard to acquire, and they were using the question to test if he was telling the truth.

"Hm, and your name is?"

"Thorongil."

Mogra examined him closely and said, "you were giving the retreating order to the Ranger group, and if you are not him, where is the man?"

"I assumed his position temporarily, for he went back to Rivendell. But he will be back by tomorrow night. I can take you to where he will return if you will leave us alone."

The leader and several other Orcs gabbled for a while, and he glared at the Ranger with a diabolic smile, "if you lie to us, we will tear your friend apart and make you watch before we eat you alive." Then they rambled away.

Aragorn exhaled in relief, and Legolas asked him in Elvish, "is it wise? to give out your true name."

"They've known it anyway. "

"What's the plan? By tomorrow, they will know that you are lying when no one is returning from Rivendell."

"We escape before it."

"Look, if there is a chance, I want you to focus on escaping."

"What do you mean?" Aragorn furrowed his brows.

"My leg is injured. It could become a problem. You should try to escape first and come back for me with more men." Legolas elucidated his proposition to him in a calm tone, "Otherwise both of us will perish."

"Then I will die with you." Aragorn retorted uncompromisingly, "it's either both of us or none at all."

Legolas gaped at him, "you foolish man!"

"Stubborn elf."

Legolas couldn't help but chortled, never had thought that he could still laugh when facing a very likely horrible death.

It was a shame though, that he wouldn't be able to see his ada again.

How he wished that he could once again fall into the King's firm embrace, to actually remember the feeling of kissing those firm yet elegant lips, or maybe to kiss him again, if only just once.

His ada wouldn't have known that he had died here, body defiled and mutilated by Orcs, limbs scattered in the wilderness, with no grave, no memory left, just like his mother. Thranduil would be waiting for him to return, years after years, centries after centries, until all the Elves had left for the Undying Land and the world worn by time. Until he couldn't wait any longer and sail west alone.

He would think that his son held a grudge so deep that he refused to ever return to him. He would have thought Legolas hated him.

A profound dull pain and regret laded Legolas's chest, and it suffocated him. His grieve didn't escape Aragorn's keen eyes, and the Ranger consoled him gently, "do not be afraid, my friend. I promise I will get us both out alive."

"I trust you." Legolas reassured him, "I was just...remembering things."

The Orcs didn't bother them again for the rest of the day, and they waited patiently, trying their best to get some rest so that they would have enough energy had an opportunity presented itself.

They found the opportune moment when they were escorted by the Orcs to Trollshaws. Aragorn skillfully stoked up an argument between the two Orcs that were guarding them all the time, and when they started to tear each other apart and when more Orcs were somehow pulled into the fight, he managed to hide a shard from their cumbersome sword in his hand and used to loosened himself during the chaos. He kept the ropes on his wrists as a ploy and passed the shard secretly to Legolas.

The moment their hands were free, they ran for the forest of Trollshaws.

Legolas's wounded leg severely impaired his ability to move fast, but his speed was still impressive. The Orcs soon found out their charade and chased after them like swarming locusts.

The luxuriant woods were filled with Trolls and other unforeseeable dangers, but for an Elf grown in Mirkwood and a Ranger who spent most of his time in the wilderness, it was like a homecoming. They soon found a fissure covered by thick vines and shrubs and hidden in there.

They hid in there for a whole day, and then Aragorn sneaked out to check if the Orcs had left. He went back shortly with a grave expression.

"They surrounded us. We will have to wait longer." Aragorn explained whilst produced some herbs that he found on the way back.

"What are these?" Legolas asked. His forehead was covered with perspiration due to the inflaming arrow wound, his face pale like marble.

"They are herbs, can help to reduce the chance of infection. We have to get the arrowhead out."

"You know of healing art?"

"Did you forget who raised me?" Aragorn gave him a cheeky smile, picking up the shard that had saved their lives and cut the bloody fabrics around the wound.

"It will be painful, but try not to make too much sound." Aragorn held his leg gently, voice soft as a feather.

"I've had worse than this." Rejoined the Elf proudly.

When Aragorn pulled out the arrow, Legolas bit his lips hard until its seeping blood and didn't make a sound. Aragorn chewed the herbs and then applied them to his wound, then wrapped it up with a cloth he tore from his shirt.

"Thank you." Legolas leaned on the dirt wall, seemingly exhausted.

"I should apologize to you." Aragorn gazed at him deeply. The pallidness of the Elf ached his heart. It was a weird feeling, for he considered himself a tolerant man and didn't usually hold grudges, but when the Orc slapped Legolas...he wanted to chop the creature's hand off right then and there...he still did. And as for Lannor, he had the impulse to twist that bastard's undeserved head off barehandedly.

He didn't understand where did these intense emotions come from.

Legolas was surprised, "why? What for?"

"Lannor. I should have known something like this will happen. I should have protected you better."

Legolas laughed heartily as he put a hand on the Ranger's shoulder, "I don't need any protection, my friend. "

"I know, but I want to."

They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment, and Legolas was a little stunned by the seriousness and the genuine affections saturated those mysterious grey eyes.

Now that he thought back, Aragorn was ready to die for him, die with him.

Not many people would have done that to another.

Legolas swallowed and was about to say something, but then Aragorn changed the topic swiftly as if avoiding hearing his reply. 

"We should rest today. Tomorrow I will go out to lure them away, and when they are gone, you go to Rivendell, tell Lord Elrond to send troops."

"What?! What about you? What if they catch you! Don't forget you are their target!"

"I know this land, they won't get me. I will meet you at Rivendell."Aragorn spoke in his usual bossy style, leave no room for negotiation.

Legolas couldn't believe how stubborn the Man was. No matter what he said, how sounded his arguments was, Aragorn would not waver. 

Legolas was so peevish and decided not to talk to the Ranger for the rest of the day. But when night fell, the air became freezingly cold. Elves usually don't feel much cold. But might it be the wound that undermined his endurance, Legolas couldn't help but shivered and curled himself into a ball while trying not to hurt the wounded leg. 

Aragorn's tentative word reached his ear, "do you mind...if I lie next to you? It will be warmer..."

Legolas glared at him but nodded huffishly.

Aragorn appeared to be assuming a rather coy mien presently. He gingerly moved closer, and then even closer, until their shoulders barely touched. His body was a bit stiff, as if he was nervous about something and was ready to shot up and run at any time.

"Move closer will you?! I won't bite, and it is your idea!" Legolas was pissed.

Aragorn flustered to adjust his position again until they were huddled together and could feel each other's warmth permeating through their flimsy clothing. Legolas snugged in the Ranger's embrace and mumbled, "I still think you are a fool."

Aragorn's heartbeat was...unnaturally fast. Do Men always have such high heart rate? Legolas wondered drowsily.

While the Prince fell into a healing sleep in the warm, safe and comfortable cuddle immediately, the poor Ranger was wide awake most of the time during that night. 

Legolas smelled like sunshine and leaves with spring dew, and it was...intoxicating.

Eventually, Aragorn managed to enter the dreamland, and he dreamed of bright sunshine, of flourishing leaves, and a beautiful golden-haired Elf in his arms and the blue, pellucid eyes stared at him with inebriating affection.

And he kissed him on the soft, rosy lips.

It was such a sweet dream, but when Aragorn woke up at dawn, Legolas was gone.

Chapter 38

Summary:

Aragorn's confession (and Legolas's too)

Aragorn woke to an empty cave, with hoary light sifting through the crevice of the ground and cool early air caressing his hair.

"Legolas?"

No response.

Aragorn's heart stopped for a few seconds. He scrambled up and noticed a line of elvish carved on a stump of root protruded from the dirt.

"Go to Imladris and wait for me."

"You crazy, headstrong Elf!"Aragorn felt his blood curdled as he realized that the damn Elf was trying to do his work so that he wouldn't have to lure those Orcs away!

He flustered out of their hidden place. The woods were quiet, and the morning birds' chippering only made the quietude even more prominent. The Ranger cursed himself for sleeping so tight that didn't even feel the Elf's movement. But then again, men could rarely triumph over Elves in secretiveness.

Legolas probably had recovered greatly after one night of healing sleep with the herb's efficacious restoration. He could have moved at a relatively fast speed, and by now, he could be anywhere in the woods. Worst of all, Elves are impossible to trace if they don't wish to be found.

Luckily Legolas's injury was not fully recovered, and Aragorn finally found one or two tracks of his steps. The Ranger followed the scarce vestiges closely until he saw several Orcs' bodies laid on the ground. Their thick, fishy smelled blood danked the ground.

No sign of the Elf. Aragorn wasn't sure if he should be feeling relief or more worrisome. He picked up a sword discarded on the ground and went forward. As he went deeper into the dense woods, the tranquillity was disrupted by echoing distant rumpus. The clangs of weapons and the clamours of Orcs urged him to hasten his steps.

Suddenly someone dropped from the thick shadow created by the rampant beech leaves, and Aragorn was startled and swung it toward the prowler.

"Hey! It's me! "

Aragorn gaped at Legolas, who was out of breath and hair all dishevelled, "Where in Valar's name have you been!"

"I've left false tracks to lure them to the south side of the forest. Their siege around us has broken and we have to go before they realize it is a ruse!" Legolas explained urgently. He was slightly limping as his wound hadn't healed completely, and his rapid movements certainly strained it further. But it had improved greatly than yesterday, and regular Men or Orcs won't be able to catch him in a forest land easily.

Aragorn trailed after the scurrying Elf in perturbation. Every time he saw Legolas stumbled his heart twitched, but before he was able to run up to steady him or to catch him before he fell, Legolas would always find his balance.

Though they travelled fast, the Orcs grasped the delusive nature of the tracks and soon retraced. The thunderous, heavy treads pressed Aragorn and Legolas to sprint with all their might. Legolas's face paled from the pain that erupted from his torn wound, but he dared not to slow down. He bore the pain in dire exigency and bit his lower lip hard to divert his attention.

Finally, the sound of water kindled their hope, for the River of Bruinen was near. Orcs wouldn't dare to cross the river, as Lord Elrond would have felt their presence and summon the giant waves to engulf all of them.

The Ranger and the Elf stumbled into the river, splashing up a rumpus of breakers like spattering diamonds. The water was cool and clear, long and tortuous, and it separated the treacherous Trollshaws from the divine Elven land of Rivendell.

They stood in the middle of the river, looking back at the west bank. The Orcs all lined up like jagged dead stumps. Their beady eyes leered at them, full of hatred and anger. Yet all they did was grumble and cursing, and none endeavoured to venture into the water.

They were safe...

Legolas leaned himself on Aragorn, for he was exhausted and couldn't stand much longer. The Ranger wordlessly supported him, pulled Legolas's left arm around his shoulder, and used his right arm to steady the Elf's waist. They trudged out of the water and staggered into the nearest forest.

Legolas sat on the soft, fresh moss under an old tree and sighed in relief. His voice was lighthearted and tinged with a glimmer of a smile," that was close."

Aragorn kneeled in front of him in taciturn and started to untie the shabby bandage he put on last night to check the wound. Legolas sensed his brooding quietness and asked, "what's the matter, Mellon."

Aragorn didn't reply.

Legolas furrowed his refined, elegant brows in confusion. He studied the seemly preoccupied Ranger for a while and asked, "Are you mad?"

"Why do you have to be so willful and audacious!" Erupted Aragorn in a low, strained and grim voice and startled the Elven Prince a little.

Legolas widened his eyes, "what did I do?"

"I told you to stay in the crevice and wait for me! Why did you do exactly the opposite?!"

Anger and retrospective fear swirling in the Ranger's gray eyes, and his usual calmness all shuddered.

Legolas was feeling a little grievance. He retorted, "because you are their target! By now they would have known that you were lying and they would have sent you to Ettenmoors if they catch you!"

"But they won't kill me! If they catch you, they will torture you first and kill you slowly! Do you want that to happen?! Do you want to die and leave me in regret for the rest of my life?! Do you want to torment me to death?! " Aragorn shouted, infuriated.

Legolas was rendered speechless for a brief moment, for he had never seen the Ranger showed such intense emotion.

"I have no intention to upset you."

"Then stop acting like a fool!"

Legolas's temper was stoking up, "Excuse me, but your plan was no better than mine! If you are caught because of me, how am I suppose to live with the guilt?!"

"You will survive it. I cannot!"

"Don't be so dramatic!"

"Dramatic?! "Aragorn stood up abruptly and paced to and fro in grave agitation, "I've never seen such an obstinate, reckless, insensitive Elf like you!"

"What?!" Legolas couldn't believe his own ear. Disregarding his leg wound, he stood up and snarled, "you have no right to talk to me like that! "

"Am I hurting your Highness's pride?!"

"You are ridiculous! Why are you even this angry?! We are safe aren't we!"

Aragorn strode toward him with intimidating intensity and looked into his eyes and bawled, "Because I can't lose you!!! And don't you dare to ask me why!!!"

They both paused, froze in a fliting moment and stared at each other's eyes.

Aragorn couldn't recall at which exact moment that he started to fall for the Elven Prince during the past year. Maybe it was when Legolas single-handedly obliterated a small pack of Goblins and stood tall and proud and smiling at him smugly, brighter than the sun; maybe it was when he watched Legolas sitting under the drifting starlight, humming an immemorial lullaby, so beautiful and ultramundane like a fair creature from another world; maybe it was when the Prince listened with glittering eyes while Aragorn told him about the lost Kingdom of Númenor; maybe it was when they lost one of their companions in a battle, Legolas sang him a harrowing lament and stayed by Aragorn's side all night, silently consoled his grieve, gently held his hand.

Or maybe Legolas already had Aragorn's heart the first time when the Ranger laid eyes on the striking Prince in that dingy, shabby tavern.

The brave, proud, sensible, tenacious and ethereal soul was so pure and bright like the summer moonlight, and before Aragorn knew, he was in love.

But he was just a Ranger, and he was a Prince.

And now, he laid his heart bare, presenting it to the mercy of the Elven Prince like offering a sacrifice.

The moment was prolonged, and Aragorn was mesmerized by the blue eyes mirroring his. An overwhelming impulse seized him, and he asked in an oppressed, husky murmur, "I want to kiss you. If you don't want it, tell me no and forget everything I just said."

Legolas didn't speak and didn't move. There was affection in his eyes, too. And they were like the remote song from the western sea, magical and unobtainable, drawn the sailors toward the unreturnable unknown.

Could it be true? That he might get what he desired?

Aragorn raised his unsteady hand, touching the smooth, rosy cheek gingerly, tentatively, as if afraid of ruining the dream. Then, he mustered all of his courage and leaned in and seized the pair of soft lips that he had dreamt many, many times.

**********

Thranduil pulled himself out of the seeing stone and quietly sat in the dark, gloomy chamber. He didn't move for a very long time, as if had transformed into a marble statue.

Legolas was safe. That was the most important.

He told so to himself as if trying to convince an incredulous audience.

Others were not important. The kiss was not important.

It was nothing compared to Legolas's safety.

He should have felt relieved and happy that his son had righteous company who loved him and would die for him.

He could also feel the gentle, soft happiness that echoed from his son.

Maybe after eight years, Legolas finally ready to let go of the forbidden love between them. Wasn't this what he wanted?

Wasn't it good to be free from sin, from all the destructive secrets?

Then why was his heart hurt so, so much?

Why did he want to scream, and yet no sound came out from his chest?

**********
The moment when Aragorn's lips touched Legolas's, it was as if two pieces of cloud travelled thousands of miles to met in the sky and clashed and transmuted and turned into lightning and fire. It was like a disembodied idea suddenly grounded by a kaleidoscopic form, and it felt so real, so perfect.

It was reciprocated as Legolas kissed him back, shyly at first, but then as if he had made some decision, the kiss deepened. The Ranger cupped his face between his palms and imbibed the intoxicating smell of sunlight and fresh leaves with a note of hungriness. His heartbeat thundered, and a flame kindled deep within his body, and all the feelings were so overwhelming yet exhilarating.

Never before had he cared and desired about someone with such intensity, such uncontrollability, and it scared him.

Until Legolas whimpered in pain, then he realized that he had backed the Prince up to a tree and practically trapped Legolas between his body and the tree trunk, and the Prince's wounded leg inadvertently scratched on a protuberate root during their passionate kiss.

"My bad!" Aragorn let go of the Prince at once with a burning cheek. He almost felt like a teenager again, "I should go find more herbs to allay the infection. Then we shall go to Imladris to let Lord Elrond take a look."

Legolas chuckled, a blush also suffusing on his face deliciously, "such a small wound is hardly worthy of Lord Elrond's time. Though it would be a good idea to have some rest."

"I will be back soon. Wait for me."

"I promise I won't run away this time."

Aragorn nodded awkwardly and hasten away.

It felt weird. Did he actually kiss Legolas? Did it really happened and not a dream?

Halfway through gathering the healing herb Aragorn realized that he was smiling by himself like an idiot, but he didn't care.

He felt happy, euphoria even. He always had this sense of heavy responsibility that laid a thick layer of dullness over his future. But right now, his heart was full of hope and bright light.

But the happiness was short-lived.

The rest of the way to Imladris was eerily quiet. Legolas did not speak much and appeared to be distracted most of the time as if his mind was elsewhere, somewhere far far away that Aragorn could not reach. Pensiveness shadowed his countenance, and it troubled Aragorn deeply.

Did he regret it?

All the elated feeling now transmuted into unsettling conjectures, and the silence stretched.

It was the second time Legolas visited Imladris, and the sequester beauty of the Valley still astounded him. The white and pristine Elven palaces interspersed among the florid, flourishing woods, and rainbows travelled transversely over the distant falls, which glittered under the dusk like pearl shawls hanging over the cliffs. The sound of wind dancing among trees and flowers, of leaves falling like rains, of gurgling streams and airy songs, all convoluted together and composed into a serene chord.

Last time, he came with Thranduil. He was so excited to see another Elven realm and was amazed by the most simple things, and Thranduil kept his unimpressed veneer, exhorted him not to act like a bumpkin, yet his eyes were soft with benign affection seeing Legolas so happy and excited like an elfling.

It was a good memory.

Lord Elrond was surprised to find Legolas with Aragorn but welcomed him heartily nonetheless. After quickly treating the wound on the Prince's right leg and assured a very worried Aragorn that it would heal completely in less than ten days, they had dinner together. The twin brothers did not join them, for they had departed to Lothlorien to convoy their sister Arwen back home safely two days ago, and wouldn't be back until three months later.

"Have you heard from the King recently?" Lord Elrond inquired gently over the dinner.

Legolas's heart throbbed tremulously, but he answered in a calm voice, "I haven't heard from ada for eight years. I have been travelling all the time. The messengers cannot find me."

Lord Elrond nodded thoughtfully, looked somewhat worried, yet he didn't divulge any further information but continued to ask, "and how is your sleeping? Any nightmares?"

Legolas knew right away that Elrond was worrying about the mark, and he wasn't sure if Thranduil had informed him about his "regain" of memory.

"I've been sleeping well, not many nightmares in recent years."

"That is good news." Though Lord Elrond's ominous gaze made Legolas nervous, "you need to be careful with your own mind, for the enemy is growing stronger, and we do not know how long can the seal withstand."

Aragorn was bewildered. He looked at Legolas and questioned, "what seal?"

Legolas was reluctant to tell him, but he could not think of a subterfuge right away. Luckily Elrond asked Aragorn why they were pursued by Orcs and other Rangers' whereabouts, thus changing the topic. Legolas was greatly relieved.

For the next two days, Aragorn noticed that Legolas was avoiding him.

He couldn't find him anywhere, and when he could, there was always someone else present, and thence no chance to talk about anything private.

On the third day, the young Ranger decided that he had enough. He strode toward the marble gazebo, which overlooked the burbling streams and silver falls. Legolas reclined on a soft lounge chair, chatting breezily with Lindir the Butler, but the colloquy came to an abrupt halt when Aragorn entered with a solemn expression.

"May I speak with Legolas alone?" The Ranger implored with courtesy.

Lindir smiled and nodded and soon excused himself. Now Legolas had to face Aragorn alone. For a moment, the falling leaves were the only thing that moved between them.

Legolas evaded the Ranger's burning gaze.

Aragorn stepped closer, trying to find the Prince's eyes so that he could see everything clear, so that there would be no misunderstanding. He asked with candour, "did you regret it?"

Legolas knew what he was alluding to, and there was no point in playing dumb. He shooked his head, "no, I do not regret kissing you."

"Then why are you avoiding me?" Aragorn came to his side and dropped one knee so that he could observe Legolas's countenance better, "have I done something wrong? You do not have to sugarcoat it. If I made you uncomfortable in any way..."

"Don't be silly. That was not the reason."

"Tell me! What is troubling you? "

Legolas was struggling, for it was clearer than ever now that Aragorn could see every fliting emotion in the Elf's eyes. Pain, shame, sorrow, fear, regret, longing...All kinds of feeling boiling together, denoting something huge and heavy looming behind.

Legolas inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as if summoning all the courage that he could find. He was afraid of something.

Aragorn had never seen Legolas this scared. Not even when Orcs threatened to tore them into pieces.

What happened?

Eventually, Legolas said in a whisper-like voice, "I avoided you because I know you will despise me and regret all of it once you know who I truly am."

"I will never despise you!"

"That is because you don't know me, not all of me. You are a great man, Mellon. You are kind, brave, righteous and merciful. I do not deserve your affection, and I cannot give you what you want and deserve."

Aragorn was completely baffled by the thick, dark despair emanated from the Elven Prince, "what are you talking about?"

Legolas was practically shaking at this moment. He muttered as if talking to himself rather than Aragorn, "I should tell you...you have the right to know and I trust you...But I am scared, Aragorn. Will you promise me that you won't tell another soul? Not even Lord Elrond. No matter how much you will hate me or...be repulsed by me?"

The Ranger was horrified by such agony in Legolas's voice. He leaned in, grasped Legolas's hand in his and kissed the long, nimble fingers with endless tenderness, "I promise. But you don't have to tell me if it gives you pain."

"No...I've made a mistake before, and I should not bestow it on you." Legolas straightened himself and sighed, "I was in love with someone. I still am."

A sharp pang reverberated in the Ranger's chest. He should have guessed it.

Why was the Elf always looked so rueful, lonely and lost when he thought no one was watching?

Why was Legolas always avoided talking about his past?

Why did he left his homeland and drifted so far, far away?

This was why, but Aragorn refused to consider the possibility. For he didn't even think he had the chance.

"That is not your fault," Aragorn answered gently, despite his own anguish, "there is nothing wrong about in love with someone. Never apologize for that."

Legolas gave him a sad, wry smile and said, "what if I am in love with my father?"

Notes:

Thank you for all the kudos and comments! <3

Chapter 39

Summary:

Glimpse of happiness

Legolas's word fell on the ground, shattered into pieces and crushed the placid breeze drifting between them. Aragorn stared at him dumbfounded, wasn't sure if he interpreted the Prince's words right.

"Every child loves their parent."

Legolas knew that Aragorn was trying to give him a chance to muddle this up, to render it as a slip of the tongue. But he went on elucidated relentlessly, masochistically, "I said, I am in love with my father. I want to be his lover. I wanted him to kiss me, to hold me, to touch me, to..."

"Enough!" Aragorn's abrupt acclaim truncated the unspoken words, the words that were too sinful, too unimaginable to say out loud.

Legolas flinched, heart hanging on a thread over the edge of a precipice, eyes widened like a frightened deer as if awaiting the predestined nemesis befell on him. His irises overflowed with plaintiveness, for he knew that he would lose Aragorn soon, just like how he lost Haldir.

Aragorn could not believe the degradation Legolas just revealed, yet there was no lie in those words. Legolas wouldn't make fun of such a...unspeakable sin.

But how was it possible?! How could such a defiling word, incest, be connected with someone so pure and bright and beautiful? Was this a nightmare? Was this all an illusion?

"No...you cannot be..." Aragorn muttered in desperation.

"But I do love him. I've always loved him, even though he never really cared about me. Since my mother passed away, I had been a nonentity for him. Maybe that is why I want him so much. For one always longs for the thing they can never get. He was distant and indifferent to me, and I tried everything to win his affection until someday I realized I want even more than what a son is allowed to have." Legolas explained quietly, painfully, "I left Woodland Realm because he rejected me, more than once, and I had to leave. Otherwise I would have gone mad."

"Maybe you are just confused. Maybe you mixed your longing for fatherly love with...romantic feelings."

"I know my feelings, Aragorn. I am not an elfling and way older than you. I know exactly what kind of love do I have for him. I almost got what I want, for I seduced him."

"What?! No!"

"Yes, I did. And I do not regret it." Legolas answered with ruthless cruelty to both himself and the Ranger. His words cut both of their heart deep.

"But it is wrong!" Aragorn stood up in great perturbation and dismay. It was hard to accept the gem in his heart had committed such a crime.

"And you think I don't know?" Legolas laughed ironically, voice breaking in agony, "you think I don't want to stop it if I can help? I tried! I tried for eight years, but it is still there! This curse...this disease won't leave me alone!"

And then there was silence.

Legolas felt the air surrounding him turned thin and scarce and not enough to be drawn into his lungs. He wanted to hear Aragorn say something yet feared for the words that might break his heart.

He was a reprobate standing on the altar of trial, waiting for the judgement.

Eventually, Aragorn muttered, "I need some time." Then he bailed.

Legolas crumpled down to the lounge chair, all lights diminished in his eyes.

He'd known this would happen, but when it actually happened, it still devastated him.

He liked Aragorn very much. Anyone who got to know the Ranger would have fallen in love with him in time. And Legolas trusted him, for he made him feel safe.

After years of wandering, Legolas thought he finally found someone who gave him a sense of belonging, found a purpose for his life. But it slipped away.

And it was his own fault.

He was being punished for his crimes. He would be alone forever, with no home to return, no friend to confide, and no love in life.

Why was he sick like this? Why couldn't he just...stop?

Middle Earth was immensely vast, yet where else could he go?

**********

Aragorn avoided Legolas for a week, and it wasn't hard, for the Prince also didn't seek him out.

It was a troubling week. Aragorn couldn't sleep and eat well. A pensiveness overcast his countenance. Even Lord Elrond noticed the anomaly.

"How did you get acquainted with the Prince of Woodland Realm?" Asked Elrond as he sauntered to the balcony, where Aragorn sought out for its seclusiveness, soaking in his own thought.

Aragorn got up and bowed before answered, "We met in Archet of Bree-land. He was pursuing a pack of Orcs and was asking about me in the Tavern. His...father knew my father. and mentioned me to him before he left Mirkwood."

"And he stayed with you and other Rangers?"

"Yes, it has been a year."

"Some of the Dúnedain may never accept him," Elrond remarked as he stood beside his foster son, "but I can tell you are fond of him, and him you."

Was it that obvious?

Aragorn knew it was futile to try to cover it up in front of the seemingly omniscient lord, so he admitted, "would you oppose it, my lord. For we are both of the same sex, and I know many Men would disdain such feelings."

"I am not a Man, and there is nothing wrong with loving someone, anyone."

"Anyone?"

Elrond asserted with a node, "As long as it is out of your true heart."

"Even if it was iconoclastic and will not be approved by Valar?"

Elrond raised his eyebrows as he sensed this was not just about Aragorn's feeling toward the Prince. But he answered nonetheless, "if it is true love, Valar will always approve."

Aragorn fell back into the abyss of pensiveness, ruminating the Elven Lord's profound words. But Elrond continued, "I come to tell you, no matter what brawl you've had with Legolas, if you still long for him, then better go chase after him right now. He is leaving."

"What?!" Aragorn widened his eyes, "when?!"

"He bade me farewell just then."

Before Elrond's last word fell on the ground, Aragorn bolted out.

He caught up Legolas on the sinuous road leading into the mountains. Legolas was riding a white horse with all his belongings hanging from the saddle. He didn't gallop. Otherwise Aragorn might never have the chance to caught up with him.

"Stop!" Aragorn shouted.

Legolas halted and looked back in surprise, "Aragorn?"

"Where do you think you are going?!" Aragorn intercepted in front of his horse, eyes burning with agitation.

Legolas lowered his gaze and rejoined, "I do not know. Maybe home, maybe somewhere else."

"And without even saying goodbye? "

"I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"Who said I don't want to see you?!"

Legolas gaped at him as if unable to comprehend the meaning of his rhetorical question.

Aragorn sighed, snatched the rein from Legolas's hand, and led the horse to turn away, starting to head back the incoming road in an imperious manner. Legolas didn't protest, only bewildered by the Ranger's assertive actions.

"Why are you doing this, Aragorn?"

"Because you are ridiculous to leave like this." Aragorn walked half step in front of the horse, not even looking back at him.

Legolas frowned, "but...I thought you would be relieved if I..."

"Stop being so presumptuous, will you? I don't want you to leave." Aragorn's step paused, and he turned to look into Legolas's eyes, "I do not want to lose you, no matter what you've done before, no matter if you love someone else."

The genuine words hit Legolas hard. He had never heard such kind, generous and affectionate confession, especially after revealing his true self. Could someone truly love him after knowing his crimes and sins? How was it possible that such a marvellous soul existed? Legolas's eyes wetted with emotions, tears glistening under the sunlight.

"I do not deserve your love."

"I don't care." Aragorn came closer, gently clasped the Prince's hand and once again imprint a kiss on his fingers, "I choose to love you because you are lovable, because to me you are perfect. And I will keep loving you no matter if it is reciprocal. I am content with you by my side and nothing more."

Not needing more confirmation, Legolas flung off the horse and hugged Aragorn tightly, as if clutching at his last hope.

Maybe this Man was his salvation after all.

Maybe with him, he could finally bury the cursed love that had been tormenting him and his father.

"And I will be by your side always. I promise I will be there for you until one of us is claimed by death."

Aragorn smiled, threw his long, strong arms around the lovely body tightly, inhaling the intoxicating smell of his Prince deeply. He knew then that he could never let go of the Elf.

**********
The rest of the days in Imladris were unlike the first week, for the heaviness was gone, and leisureliness resided. Aragorn gave Legolas a tour of the Valley, and they rambled in the colourful rain of the leaves, basked in the rosy dusk light, and told each other stories of their lives before they have met under the silver moonlight.

Aragorn showed Legolas Narsil the broken sword that cut Sauron's fingers off along with the one ring and saved the Middle Earth. Legolas gazed upon such a legendary weapon, yet a sense of uneasiness crept up his mind.

Sauron's mark was still somewhere in his mind, hibernating like an insidious snake. Every night, when he failed to control his thought and pondering about the mark, realizing it was actually created by Sauron the dark lord, his heart would shudder in an inexplicable fear and a sense of foreboding. He did not know if the dark lord had forgotten about him or was weaving some unpredictable doom for him and Thranduil.

Sensing Legolas's trepidation, Aragorn was worried, "is there something wrong?"

Legolas only shooked his head. He didn't want to reveal that part of his curse yet, "my grandfather died in that war, and my people paid a heavy price. It is painful to think all those sacrifices were in vain."

Aragorn gently lifted his chin and whispered in a soothing voice, "it was not in vain. We have got a thousand years of peace, and Sauron had lost the ring and most of his power. We still have hope."

Legolas nodded hesitantly. He wanted to believe Aragorn, he truly did, but an irrational prophetic feeling always haunted him.

He was afraid that Sauron was not done with him.

The next day, they left Imladris to find other Rangers. They travelled for days, and on the fifth night, they encountered four Trolls who were about to eat six Men and Women merchant travellers in Weather Hills. Legolas climbed to a nearby tree soundlessly and blinded two Trolls with his precise, unexpected and fast arrows. As the Trolls screamed and cursed pell-mell, Aragorn swiftly sneaked into their camp and untied all six people and ushered them to run away.

Legolas jumped onto one of the blinded Trolls, pierced its brain with three arrows, instantly killed it. As it was falling, another Troll tried to smash him with a giant tree trunk. Aragorn then rushed into the battle and slashed its hand off with one powerful and crisp swing of his long sword.

The other blinded Troll and the one who lost its hand fled into the forest, but the last one, and also the strongest one, went into a frenzy. Its roar shook the ground and made the trees shiver. It wielded a mace, kept attacking Aragorn with surprising skills and overwhelming power, and each clashing made Aragorn's wrist trembled in strain and pain.

Legolas jumped on the Troll's shoulder and tried to pierce its brain as he did the first Troll, but the Troll was even more pissed and the next thing he knew, it grabbed his cloak and threw him off.

Aragorn watched in horror as Legolas fell over a cliff, and his heart stopped in desperation.

He charged at the Troll in blood-curdling rage and cut through its feet, and then as it was falling down, he leaped in and stuck his sword into its screaming, filthy mouth and nailed its head to the ground.

"Legolas!!!Legolas!!!"

And there was no reply.

Aragorn stumbled toward the edge where Legolas fell, but when he saw the Prince was hanging on a tree branch unscathed, he almost burst into joyful tears.

He hastily extended his hand to help Legolas get up, though the Elf didn't need much help, for he swung himself up with astonishing flexibility and ease and leaped to the top of the cliff with the slight aid of the Ranger's hand.

The Elf had the nerve to smile at him smugly, "worried about me?"

Aragorn could still felt the remnant of the heart attack, and Legolas's flippant attitude further stoked up his temper and broke his restrain.

The careless, goofy Elf!!!

The immensely irritated Ranger tackled Legolas to the mossy ground abruptly, pinned his wrists on both sides and growled, "Don't you dare to scare me like that again!"

Legolas was still chuckling, "sorry, I should have told you I'm fine."

He said sorry, but there was no remorse in his tune, only light-hearted playfulness. Aragorn stared at him, muttered unbelievably, "are you trying to provoke me intentionally?!"

Legolas withered a little and smirked defiantly, "maybe I did. You are so composed and serious all the time. It would be fun to see you lose your calm occasionally."

"You are ridiculous!"

"You told me that a lot."

The next moment, their lips clashed.

After the first kiss and Legolas's confession about his past, Aragorn hadn't kissed the Prince again or made any further move. They talked circuitously around the topic, circling each other like two tentative rival beasts sizing each other's intentions up.

And now, all the cautions were thrown out of the window. They attacked each other's mouth with furious passion, biting and sucking and stealing each other's breath. Aragorn felt his blood was boiling in his veins and an insurmountable urge that he had never felt before rushing up to his head. His kisses spread to Legolas's chin and neck, leaving crimson marks on the marble-like pale skin.

Legolas responded eagerly by surrounded his arms around Aragorn's shoulder, pressed himself up, and bared his neck submissively for more convenient access. The Ranger's body was radiating hot passion and craving, like a sleeping volcano on the verge of awakening, and being at his mercy greatly excited the Prince.

The last time Legolas could actually remember having sex was still with Haldir after that farewell banquet. And the last time he was actually with someone was in that training yard when his father finally yielded to the sinful desire and made love to him on the dirty ground (though he watched it in the seeing stone rather than remembering it). It had been over a hundred years, and though Elves could surpass such primal urges most of the time, it was still nice to be able to satiate the hunger once again.

He wanted to be under another powerful figure's mercy. He wanted to submit all his control over himself and just...belong to someone.

"Are you sure about this?" Aragorn whispered into Legolas's pointy ear, and the puff of the air made the latter shiver in lust.

"Yes of course!" Legolas raised his glittering, yearning eyes, "If I don't want it you'd have had your ass kicked!"

"Yes, my lord, I shall never doubt you." Aragorn grinned with indulgence and once again kissed him deeply. His strong, warm and callous hand slipped under Legolas's tunic, audaciously exploring the unblemished smooth skin and the firm muscle laying under it.

"Do not be gentle with me. I want you to take everything you want, no holding back." Legolas's breath quickened, and his voice lower than usual, dark and velvet-like.

"As you wish."

And then, Aragorn transformed in front of Legolas's very eyes. The courteous, righteous spirit receded and was replaced by someone more dominant, more demanding and licentious. He pulled Legolas's belt off and tore his tunic open. The crispy sound of fabric ripping was dangerous yet very arousing.

The Ranger paused for a second to admire the beautiful scene in front of him. Legolas lay openly on the mossy ground, waiting to be possessed, to be taken. His golden hair sprawling like a spider web, eyes filled with anticipation and wet desire, lips swollen deliciously from previous passionate kisses. His bared chest, narrow waist and flat, muscle-defined belly were gleaming under the moonlight as if he could attract all the light in this night. The soft shadows limned the rise of muscles and the dip of the belly button rose and fell mesmerizingly as his breath quickened with lust.

Was it true? Was it a dream? Could he really have what he want?

Aragorn lowered his head and traced slowly across each line of shadow with his tongue, tasting the scrumptious softness. His hand slipped inside the Prince's pants and clasped around the already half-hardened cock.

Legolas moaned canorously. He spread his legs wider and pressed his body against the Ranger. He began to unbutton Aragorn's tunic eagerly, and Aragorn let him do it. The Ranger's warm, muscled, and sun-kissed skin lustered in the moonlight, like dripping honey or melting caramel. The several battle scars were supposed to mar his perfection yet furnished him with vicissitudes and made him more beautiful. His handsome features comingled with soft affection and scalding desire, and when he looked down at Legolas with dominance and dignity, he looked like a King.

As the Ranger's precum coated finger probed into Legolas's entrance, the Prince jolted a little, for his body was not accustomed to such invasion after a century's dormancy. Aragorn immediately paused, "am I hurting you?"

"No, no, just keep going. I'm not some fragile porcelain vase, you know?"

Aragorn chortled, "you are so impatient."

"Try to be abstinent for a hundred years and you will be impatient too!"

"A hundred years?!" Aragorn's horrified expression was almost comical, and Legolas kicked his right leg with his feet in playful agitation.

And then the finger suddenly pushed all the way in, and Legolas squirmed. The little discomfort soon vanished when it found the sensitive spot within the tunnel, and a bolt of pleasure shot through Legolas's body as he whimpered in a higher tune.

Another finger followed in, and Aragorn scissored and stretched the tight, hot tunnel, feeling the flesh was getting softer, wetter, squirming and pulling his fingers with demand. He knew Legolas was ready, so he pulled down both of their pants, pushed Legolas's legs up, made the Elf's pliable body folded in half and exposed the pink, wanton hole behind the swollen, rock-hard cock.

Aragorn's prick was also on fire. Its grandeur size made Legolas swallowed hard. The Ranger positioned himself over the Prince, the precum slicked head pressed at the tiny entrance, and then it pushed in relentlessly.

It was so huge and overwhelming that Legolas had to hold his breath at the beginning. He felt like he was stretched to an impossible extend, yet it didn't hurt too much, and soon the little pain receded, and a tingling and pulsing sensation spread from where they connected to his whole body as he was filled by the Ranger completely.

"You are so warm!" Exhaled Aragorn with inebriating satisfaction.

"And you are so big!"

"Thank you, my lord." Aragorn kissed Legolas's lips, nibbled on the pointy ears, and it hyped Legolas's sensation to a new level. He urged on by thrusting up to devour Aragorn's cock deeper, and it made the Ranger growl.

Aragorn pulled all his length out and slammed back to retaliate the Prince's challenging, deviant behaviour. Legolas yelped as it hit his prostate hard, engendered poignant pleasure and caused his body to twitch. Aragorn didn't give him much time to recompose himself but rather started a stormy round of onslaught. He pumped into the delicious hole with startling power and speed.

Legolas soon melted into a puddle of moaning water. A thin layer of sweat covered his slender body like a veil of pearls. His long legs wrapped around the Ranger's body tightly, obediently welcoming every attack.

Aragorn's stamina and self restain were astonishing. While Legolas was already on the brim of collapsing in sensuality, the Ranger managed to pull out, turning Legolas around, entering the Prince again from behind and drove deeper and deeper until Legolas felt his belly was undulating with each thrust. Countless kisses imprinted on the Elf's nape shoulder and back as they rocked and shuddered on the choppy sea of pleasure. Then Aragorn laid Legolas on his side, raised his left leg and re-penetrated him from a side position. The different angles of invasions rendered Legolas helpless and sent him right to the top of the culmination. He ejaculated hard and through, gushes of milky liquid splashed on the mosses and grass.

Aragorn came soon after, buried within the intoxicating tunnel and sent his seeds deep into the Elf's body. Euphoria and a tremendous satisfaction engulfed him, for he was bestowed the best gift of his life. He hugged his lover tightly, affectionately kissed the lips despite they were both out of breath.

Legolas let himself fell into the Ranger's warm embrace, and he was happy, truly happy. For the first time in a very long time, he believed that maybe he could still find happiness despite the incurable longing toward Thranduil and the looming curse of Sauron.

**********

Thranduil hadn't looked into the seeing stone after witnessing the first kiss between Legolas and the Ranger. The King had become dispassionate to anything, performed his Kingly duties with a sense of numb responsibility. He could still sense Legolas's turmoil from time to time, but he tried to ignore them.

Until one night, he sensed something different from the previous year.

Euphoria and happiness.

It was stronger than any emotion his son had for the past eight years, and though he couldn't know for sure, it wasn't hard to guess what was going on between his son and the Ranger at the very moment.

Something poisonous, dark and thick and slimy, dripped from his heart, and he was angry, uncontrollably angry. He smashed everything in his study until he was exhausted and crumpled to the ground in defeat.

Legolas had lovers before, just like he did, but he was never this...jealous and feeling betrayed. Even though he knew that he had no right to blame his son.

Maybe it was because that he knew that all the previous lovers could not supplant him, for he was the sun of Legolas's life, and anything would be eclipsed by his presence.

But now, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Notes:

Thranduil's crisis finally coming ;)

Chapter 40

Summary:

A new perilous situation is pending

Aragorn and Legolas left messages in several small taverns that they had stayed, and one week later, they met with other Rangers outside of Bree. 

To everyone's surprise, Aragorn charged at Lannor like an angry lion and punched the young man right in his face. Lannor was knocked to the ground, blood dripping from nostrils, eyes wide open with surprise and fear. Aragorn leered at him with burning rage, growling sonorously, "pick up your sword and fight me!"

Legolas intervened immediately, "Aragorn! Stop!"

"He has to pay for his squalid deeds! We are Rangers of the North, and we do not tolerate traitors!"

"He led us to a trap!" Lannor tried to justify his crime, yet his excuse was weak and unsounded.

"None of us know it was a trap! He was just doing his job! But you, you raised your weapon to one of your companions!" Each word was uttered with grave repudiation and contempt, and they settled in the air like an unmoving mountain. All the Rangers surrounded quietly, no one trying to stop Aragorn nor attempted to speak for the traitor.

Even the Rangers who did not like the idea of an Elf joining them could not tolerate such treachery.

As Aragorn marched toward Lannor, Legolas once again stood in his way.

"Let me do this, Legolas, he has to answer to his deed!"

"I know, but it is not you who should administrate such revenge. " Rejoined Legolas calmly, "he tried to kill me. I am the one he should answer to."

He proceeded to unsheathed his knives and strode toward Lannor, who was obviously frightened.

"Fight me." Legolas looked down on Lannor with disdain, his blue eyes blazing with fire.

Lannor hesitantly picked up his sword, knowing that he had not many choices if he didn't want to be called a cower. 

The fight didn't last long, for Legolas's fighting skill was way beyond the young man. The Elf was like a gasp of wind, elusive and swift, impossible to predict nor to guard against. Lannor was kicked several times on the knee, forcing him to kneel again and again, and was punched multiple times on the face that his cheek swollen so much even his features were distorted.

Finally, Legolas held a knife at his throat, and the fight was over.

"Go ahead, kill me!"Taunted the young man, though fear lingered under his snarls. Legolas looked at him coldly, yet he let go of him and stepped back.

"I do not wish to smirch my hand with your blood." 

Aragorn stood beside the Elf and spoke with sublime dignity, "I, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, proclaim you as a traitor. You are no longer one of us and shall not call yourself a Ranger of the North. Now leave! "

Lannor got up off the ground, his countenance distorted in pain and humiliation, as well as hatred toward the Elf. His gaze was venomous, yet he spoke of nothing. The Rangers watched him trodden away until his dark shape merged into the misty night.

After that incident, the animosity toward Legolas attenuated gradually. The Elf soon became an essential member of the occasional Rangers' operations, and his relationship with Aragorn deepened with years of fighting side by side. A profound bond had formed between them, not just as lovers but as best friends as well. They trusted each other, understood each other without words, and for several years Legolas never left the Ranger's side.

One day, Aragorn received a message from Lord Elrond, urging him to go back as soon as possible. It was rather unusual, and Aragorn and Legolas departed for Imladris right away.

As they entered the blessed hidden valley, a misty, ethereal song drifting in the wind, soft and enchanting like from a distant dream. Aragorn and Legolas were both captivated by its euphoniousness and wondered who the singer was.

"It is a prayer." Legolas smiled as he lifted his head, as if basking in the gentle touch of the voice, "I miss Elven songs so much."

"You have been consorting with rugged men for too long."Teased the Ranger.

Legolas laughed lightheartedly and gave him a flirty glance, "indeed, it was a LOT of consorting."

Their chatting and laughing came to an abrupt halt as Aragorn's eyes fixed on something yonder with an unmaskable expression of stunning and dazzling. Legolas followed his sight and saw a familiar figure sauntering under the crimson trees, her dark hair flowing with the wind, and glowy skin glistered like deep-sea pearls. Her voice still soaring like a disembodied spirit, calling all the blissed lives to submit to her charm.

Arwen, the most beautiful Elf maiden in the third age.

No wonder Aragorn was struck by her grace hard. No Man could have resisted such a breathtaking scene.

Legolas felt a dull apprehension echoing in his chest, but he decided to ignore such irrational worry and instead put on a facetious smile, "remember to breathe while beholding the greatest beauty of our generation, Aragorn."

Aragorn snapped out of the trance immediately and was abashed by his own gaffe. What was he doing? How could he ogle at another while the one he loved was right beside him?! 

"Sorry..."

Legolas reassured him leisurely, "no need for apologizing. It is only natural to admire beauteousness."

Aragorn relieved a little, meanwhile slightly disappointed by Legolas's completely devoid of jealousy. They had never officially confirmed their relationship, and no word of "love" was ever spoken again after Aragorn attempted to stop Legolas from leaving many years ago. Their relationship was acquiescent, and Aragorn often feared that he would break such a delicate balance by mentioning it.

He knew that for most Elves, there could only be one true love in their life. And if Legolas had already granted it to...someone else, all he could ever wish for was whatever scraps and crumbs left, and he was contented with it. 

But sometimes, he couldn't help but wish for more. 

They dismounted and greeted Arwen. The Elven maiden's gaze shifted toward Aragorn. Gray irises overflowed the brightest starlight, glistened with curiosity.

"I haven't seen you. You are Arathorn's son, Aragorn, are you not?"

Aragorn inclined his head slightly, "it is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Arwen."

"I've heard that you have done great deeds to protect North, yet your fate may lead you to another path. " Her words were dulcet and profound, carrying a sense of predestination. Then she smiled at them both and continued, "you must be tired, please go rest. Father will speak with you soon."

As they were led away by servants to their rooms, Legolas whispered to Aragorn, "she must have been staying with Lady Galadriel for too long. She talks like her."

"Lord Elrond talks in a similar fashion. I used to think this is how all the Elves talk." Aragorn smirked at the Prince, "even you talk like that sometimes?"

"What? When?!"

"Like last time when we tracking the thugs, you said 'the clouds coming from northern mountains shield the aura of the moon, evil thrives tonight and is festering in the shadows.'"

"I was just telling you all that we should head north!"

"They why don't you just say 'I think they want to rob the northern villages?'"

Well...

They stayed in Imladris for many days, and Elrond had a long, private talk with his foster son. Legolas wandered alone in the valley, sauntering along the intricated bridges and tortuous trails. His steps paused as he heard a melodious warbling, and over his head was a peculiar blue bird, with the size of a dove and a long, flowy tail. It sang like a canary yet had more layers, and Legolas was enthralled.

"Morning, little bird." He beckoned fondly, "where are you from? I've never seen anyone like you before."

The bird chippered proudly and then flew off the branches, soaring over the Prince's head for a couple rounds, and then flapped away to deeper woods. It perched on the farther branch, kept singing toward Legolas as if calling him to follow.

Legolas was in a blithe mood and had no better things to do, so he followed. He used to talk to trees and birds in Mirkwood when he was younger, but as the shadow was spreading, the trees became taciturn, and the birds dispersed away. 

He did not notice how unusual this particular bird's singing was, for evil had no place in Imladris, and thus his guard was down. The singing possessed certain mesmerizing nature as the complicated, changing tune echoing in the Prince's mind, and soon he could only see the jumping blue flickering among leaves and boughs and nothing else.

He did not know that he had gone too far, and only when tripped over a protruded root had he snapped out of the dazzled state as if just woke up from a dream. He blinked and realized that he had wandered out of the valley and was surrounded by thick, aged trees. Each tree was looming toward him, and the burls and barks formed into face-like shapes as if mocking and taunting him. 

The air was damp, stifle and filled with animosity. Legolas could not find that bird anymore, and a sense of dreadfulness crept up his spine. He turned around and about to leave, yet could not find the incoming trail. Interlaced thorns and thistles weaved into a giant web, coiling around everything tree and sealed all the escape. Legolas didn't even know how did he manage to get in without a scratch.

Strange and lurid flowers interspersed on those thistles, redder than blood, licentiously and wantonly blooming. Its fragrance was thick and sweet and smelled very familiar.

Where did he see them?

Why couldn't he focus? The smell and the colour of the flower were so...distracting...

A sharp pain flared on his fingertips. Legolas hissed and retracted spontaneously, noticing a blood bead forming on his right index finger. And the sharp barb of the thistle glared at him, quiet and sinister.

When did he extend his hand to the flowers?

The pain was also familiar...

Flower...Thorn...An abandoned stone throne...

Dol Guldur...

Suddenly, all of his sensations flared up like fireworks, and all the feelings flushed down like a flood. Not just images, but also sound, smell, taste... Firm, cold hands on his burning skin, icy blue eyes gleamed with dark desires, teeth biting on his throat, and...

It was the night in Dol Guldur, but he was no longer a spectator of his own memory.

He felt all of it at once. How Thranduil lifted him up and pressed him into that throne, how his father peremptorily entered his body and relentlessly possessed him, over and over, how he melted in Thranduil's arms, moaning and crying and indulged in the King's power and lust. 

Legolas's knees failed, and he withered to the ground, panting heavily.

The memory of that night was back.

How was it possible?!

His body shook violently as if he was re-experience everything. As if he went back to the very time and place and was in his father's embrace once again. 

Where it all went wrong, where it all began.

How happy was he? How delusional and naive was he? 

Legolas let out a strangled choking sound, and tears gushed out like a waterfall. 

**********

Aragorn couldn't find Legolas anywhere. He tried to ask around, but none had seen the Prince for the past several hours. Aragorn was growing a little worried and restless when Arwen approached him.

"You look troubled. Is everything ok?" Asked her.

"Have you seen Legolas?"

"No, though one of my companions said she saw him wandered into the forests at the west side of the valley this morning."

Aragorn looked over to the direction she alluded, heart filled with pensiveness.

"You care about him very much." The noble Lady observed.

Aragorn made no attempt to conceal his feeling, "indeed. He is my dearest friend."

"Just friends?"

"More than friends."

Arwen smiled amusingly, "then one day you shall face the Elven King's wrath for stealing the Prince of the Woodland Realm."

The Lady evidently knew nothing about the nature of Legolas and the King's relationship, hence speaking about the great Elven King with such blithe manner. Yet every time Thranduil's name was mentioned, Aragorn would be tense and nervous, as if hearing about a pending nemesis.

He always felt that the King would take his Prince away one day, and he would stand no ground to fight him. 

Arwen sensed his apprehension yet knew not of the depth of his worry. She gently consoled, "do not trouble yourself, young man. Imladris is safe. He probably fell asleep in the woods and will soon return to you."

A commotion from the trail below the balcony stirred the still air. Aragorn hastily leaned on the railing to find the cause and was relieved to find Legolas passing through a procession of Priestess. Though his relief was short-lived as he noticed how unsteady Legolas's steps were. The way the Priestess surrounded him was also disquieting, as if they were worried about something, yet Legolas refused to meet their eyes and was trying desperately to getaway.

Aragorn rushed down the stairs and caught up with the wandering Prince. As he pulled Legolas's arm and turned him around, the Ranger inhaled ghastly.

Legolas was pale as a ghost, and his eyes were so red, and tears were still trickling down his cheek.

"Legolas, what happened?! Did someone hurt you?" 

Legolas was trying desperately to stop this paroxysm, but he failed. The memory hit him hard and made the loss of Thranduil's love magnified tenfold. He remembered not only the night in Dol Guldur but also the following days when his father turned cold and distant and told him it was all a mistake, all a lie, for they were both under Sauron's spell. He remembered his fear that Thranduil was going to hate him, despise him for yielding so easily; the pang of receiving something you have dreamed centries and only to see it been taken away; and the poisonous jealousy when seeing Thranduil went to Feandir's room.

"I...I don't know what is happening to me, Aragorn. I need to see Lord Elrond."

"Ok, ok, I will take you to him." Aragorn's voice was gentle and soft, and it allayed Legolas's torment. He ushered him back to his room and promptly went to find his foster father.

When Elrond arrived, Legolas had managed to get a hold of himself. The tears were dry, though his eyes were still red, and face still pallid. 

"He may want to speak with me alone. "Elrond turned to tell Aragorn. The Ranger nodded and stayed outside of the room.

"Legolas." Lord Elrond sat in the chair opposite the Prince. Wise and caring eyes roaming over the younger Elf's countenance, "what happened?"

"One memory came back to me," Legolas explained pithily. 

Lord Elrond's expression changed drastically as he understood the meaning of the words.

"Did something triggered it?"

Legolas raised his right hand. There was but a small red spot left on his index finger, for the wound from the barb had begun to heal. He told the great healer about the bird and the thorns but did not reveal which memory had been awakened.

Lord Elrond's frowned and sighed heavily, "I anticipated this to happen. Sauron's power is growing in Mordor, and so does the strength of his mark, and the seal may not hold as steady as before. "

"Will he get to me?"

"I am not sure. The memories started to come back is indicating that the seal is weakening. But I cannot lay another seal without causing irreparable damage to your mind. "

"What should I do? " Legolas's voice was steady and calm, yet silent despair overlaid his azure irises, betraying his veneer of serenity.

"I have been preparing an amulet since the last time you've come with Aragorn." Elrond extended his right hand. Laying in his palm was a pendant, mithril forged vines and leaves surrounding a glistening Emerald, mysterious lustre circling in the gem's depth.

As Legolas gazed upon it, a soothing, warm power radiated from it, like a gasp of vernal wind after a long, bleak winter. He exhaled in reprieve. 

"This is Cauma Stone, an ancient jewel from Gondolin, possessing the power of protection against evil. I have engraved incantations on the mithril to amplify its power, and it can shield you from his eyes for a time."

"It is too precious."

"It should stay with the one who needs it. " Elrond put the pendant into Legolas's hand, but he didn't let go right away. His warm and firm grip conveying something dire and solemn, "though it may not be able to completely protect you from him. At some point, you will have to fight him, Legolas."

"Fight...the Dark Lord?"

Elrond's sharp gaze pined Legolas's soul, and his voice carried the weight of a mountain, "he will try to control you by torturing your mind until you give in. The Jewel will greatly debilitate his power on you, but I am afraid you will still suffer. And...if you think you can no longer take it, there is a way to be free."

Legolas stared at the Elven Lord's grave eyes and understood his underlying meaning, "I shall give up my life and go to the Hall of Mandos before I become his slave." Answered the Prince with a stern, resolute voice.

Chapter 41

Summary:

A stranger

Aragorn and Legolas left Imladris, and yet this time, they did not return to Bree-land but ventured east deep into the Misty Mountains. Their destination: Gondor and Rohan.

That was the reason that Lord Elrond summoned them to Imladris. Gondor was under attack, and Rohan was also threatened by the force of Mordor. He wished Aragorn to go south, to serve and get familiar with his own people.

"So you plan to use an alias rather than making your true identity known??" Legolas asked while eating a piece of Lembas. The warm orange light of campfire flickering on his lineament.

"That is the plan."

"Why? Aren't they going to receive you better if they know you are Isildur's heir?"

"On the contrary. Gondor has been struggling against Sauron's threat for a long time without a King nor his bloodline. I am but a stranger to them. They will not trust me." Aragorn lited his pipe. Smoke blurred his gaze, giving him a pensive look, "Also, I have no intention to return or to cause disturbs. Gondor needs stability."

"But you are the rightful heir to the throne."

"I cannot be King. I'm just a Ranger." 

"There is no law saying a Ranger cannot be King."

Aragorn grunted, "and dress in fine heavy robes and wearing a crown? They will look ridiculous on me."

"At least you will wash more often." The Prince curled his lips.

Aragorn raised his eyebrow and grinned, and the pensiveness attenuated, "I thought you like my harsh and dusty appearance."

"I do." Legolas chortled and then contemplated amusingly, "should I use an alias too? What name do you think I should use?"

"Malloson?"

"Golden flower?! Excuse me, but that's not fierce nor intimidating at all!" Legolas was not impressed.

Aragorn laughed, "your true name is green leaf. I couldn't think of a more suitable alias than golden flower."

They chatted pleasantly for a few moments, then Aragorn reluctantly asked, "what happened in Rivendell before we departed? I haven't seen you so shaken."

The blithe gleam in the Elf's eyes faded, haunted expression stiffened his features. 

"It's ok, you don't have to tell me, "Aragorn reassured. But Legolas shook his head, "no, I think you should know. I was just...want to forget about it, but it was foolish."

Legolas proceeded to recount how he was marked by the most dangerous being in the whole Middle Earth. He told Aragorn about the cunning singer Feandir, about how he took hold of Thranduil's mind with his mesmerizing spells, and how Legolas voluntarily accepted the mark just to inveigle the Dark Lord's pawn to lower his guard so that they could trap him.

Aragorn's countenance grew ashen and then transmuted to horror. What Legolas told him was madness, and he couldn't believe the length the Prince would go for the Elven King. Marked by the manifestation of pure evil was equal to selling his soul, and he couldn't imagine how much pain Legolas had been through.

He was speechless, petrified by heartache and melancholy. Legolas could see the pain flared in the Ranger's gray eyes, and he knew the pain was from commiseration. He gave Aragorn an easy smile, trying to console the firm but gentle heart, "It is ok. I cannot even remember most of them because of the seal. I knew what happened but don't actually remember them."

"Most of them?"

"Yes. The day in Imladris, one memory came back." The recollection stirred another whirlpool of emotion within him, but he contrived to oppress them, "and Lord Elrond thought it could be a sign that the seal began to lose its hold against the mark. So he gave me this amulet." Legolas pulled the pendant, which was fastened on a silver chain, out from his collar, "he said this could shield me from Sauron's eyes for now. 

Aragorn silently smoked his pipe with a little excessive force, and then he said, "you stupid, stupid Elf. "

"I didn't have a choice. "

"For a father who neglected you for your whole life, you sell your soul. What were you thinking!"

"He was in grieve."

"That was no excuse!"

"You were not him! You don't know what he had been through! "Legolas's voice was stern and harsh, "you should not judge another without even knowing the full picture."

Aragorn stood up abruptly in frustration and walked toward the opening of the cave in which they set their camp. It was always like this, the stubborn Elf wouldn't heart a single ill word against his almighty, perfect father. 

Where did this blind, twisted obsession come from? The Ranger could not fathom.

After a while, the light steps approached him gingerly, and a hand touched his shoulder.

"Let's not fight over this," Legolas muttered. Sensing the Ranger was not pulling away, he tentatively embraced the Ranger from behind and rested his head on Aragorn's shoulder, "come back, it is cold here."

Aragorn sighed. He could never be truly angry with Legolas. He turned around and collected the Elf into his arms, kissing the smooth forehead and whispered, "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I know."

Aragorn hugged his Elf tightly. He couldn't help but wished that he had been enough for Legolas, that he could save the Prince from the twisted relationship with the King.

That very night, after passionate and also exhausting lovemaking, Aragorn fell asleep with Legolas in his arms. Yet Legolas stayed awake, and fear lingered in his eyes where the Ranger could not see.

He had been having dreams for the past several days.

Memories had been returning in his sleep and dragging him back to the lost months. Each piece of the memories denoted collapsing of another section of the seal walls, and soon, they would all return to him, and the seal would be no more.

 He remembered the combat with Thorin in the training yard last night, and he knew more memories would return tonight.

It progressed way faster than he had thought.

**********

They tramped over the Misty Mountains, and the great shadow of Mirkwood was laying at the edge of the horizon. Morning mist floating at the foot of the shadow as if there was a great sea separating the woodland from them.

Legolas stood at the cliff, looking into the distant homeland. A strong nostalgia awoke in his heart.

He had never been this close to his home, to Thranduil, for 15 years.

How was his ada? What was he doing at this moment? He must have been awake. Maybe he was ambling in the morning forest, maybe he was reading documents or reports in his study, or maybe he was enjoying someone else's company.

Had he thought about him? 

Had he missed him?

Legolas wanted to extend his hand, to pull the shadow of his homeland toward him, but he knew it would be foolish. He wanted badly to go home, even though it had been infested by darkness. He longed to return to his haughty, obstinate, powerful, proud and beautiful father and stay by his side as he always did until forever ends and the world is no more.

Yet when Aragorn asked if he wanted to visit Woodland Realm before they go south, he declined.

"We don't have time." Said Legolas in a nonchalant tune.

By the time they reached Gondor, Legolas had remembered almost everything from the lost months, except for the last night before he was seized by the Dark Lord's power and fell into an endless nightmare.

He kept it to himself, didn't want to trouble Aragorn's heart as the Ranger had to focus on the tasks on hand. Legolas had a prophetic feeling that Aragorn would have a bigger role in the fate of Middle Earth, and one day he may surpass all his ancestors and restore the lost glory of the Kingdom of Men.

The last memory returned at the night when Aragorn, who was using the alias Thorongil again, was summoned by Ecthelion II, the Stewart of Gondor. They had gained the wise Stewart's trust after several of their timely services. For months, Aragorn had been trying to persuade Ecthelion to give him a troop to conquest the rebelled Umbar, which had opened swore allegiance to the Dark Lord. And Ecthelion had finally wavered. 

Legolas was waiting for Aragorn as he wandered across the tall, spacious corridors of the White Tower. He stood in front of a window, from where he could see the courtyard, as well as the dead White Tree's time-worn, soul-less body. It was a sad emblem of the once glorious and now diminished Numenor.

"People believe that the tree could not go back to the earth to rest until the King of Gondor returns."

The speaker was Stewart's eldest son, Denethor. A dark-haired, stern-looking young man.

Legolas inclined his head, for he did not reveal his Royal status, "do you believe the King will return someday?"

Denethor sneered, "Gondor needs no King."

Legolas frowned.

"There aren't many Elves travelling outside of the woods or valleys nowadays. How did you become acquainted with a Man?" Denethor asked in a bumptious tune.

Legolas did not like this haughty young Man, but he was Stewart's son and heir, and thus he had to be exceptionally patient.

"I met Thorongil in the North. We travelled together and worked with other Rangers to protect the free folks of Arnor."

"Arnor no longer exists. Soon, maybe nothing will ever exist..." There was a dark, pessimistic note in Denethor's manner, which baffled Legolas.

"You should go back to your Elven lands. Soon there will be only fire and death for Men." The Stewart's son then turned and left.

Legolas noticed the chamber that Denethor had just come out from was not locked. The door was ajar, and for some reason, it allured him.

The air was still, but he could feel a calling.

A soundless, intangible calling vibrating in the air. And Legolas inched closer to the door.

It was an obscure chamber, with not much furnishing indicating its usage, but a pedestal stood in the middle of the room, and an orb-shaped thing stood on it, covered by velvet cloth.

It was the Orb calling him.

Legolas felt uneasy, almost wanted to run. But his legs, as if they had their own minds and took him closer to the pedestal. 

The moment he lifted the velvet and laid his eyes on the seeing stone, he heard a low, grumbling voice in his mind, clear as summer thunder, dark as the deepest sea trench.

"Mine."

And then he was sent back to the training yard.

The last piece of his lost memory.

He was experiencing everything but simultaneously a spectator. He had seen what happened that night before, but nothing could have compared to actually experience it again, minute by minute, moment by moment.

The passionate, uncontrollable, almost barbaric lovemaking between him and his father, so overwhelming and suffocating. He loved and hated Thranduil so much that even his own soul ached. Feeling Thranduil pinned him down, biting on his shoulder, marking him as his own, and then entered his hungry body. Even the sting feeling from lacking preparation was euphoria to Legolas, and he watched his father lost all of his self-control and finally gave in to their sinful desires.

He loves him, he hates him, he needs him like he needs air and water to survive. It was pathological and twisted, but he didn't care.

He finally had his ada all to himself.

"You will be the death of me," Thranduil told him. And that was the most beautiful declaration of love for Legolas.

Except he knew it was all a lie.

He would lose all of it the very next day when he fell into a long sleep.

"You have been hiding from me, little Prince." The voice, venomous and malicious, echoed in his mind. And Legolas knew that he had been seen. He was frozen in place, fear transfixed him, and he wanted to scream.

"No..." He muttered in horror as a giant, burning eye emerged in front of him, with the pupil the shape of a fully armoured man wearing a knives-like crown.

The figure drew near and extended his claw-like hand. The long, powerful fingers closed around Legolas's throat, pulling him toward the burning flames. Legolas struggled frantically but felt as if he was struggling against a mountain. The flame engulfed him, and all he could hear was his own screaming and the voice saying, "But now I see you, my strayed pet."

**********

Legolas woke up in Aragorn's embrace, but the tight, confined feeling only freaked him out. He thrashed like a dying fish and almost hit Aragorn in the face.

"Sh, sh, its me." The Ranger struggled to calm Legolas down using his soothing, deep voice. 

Legolas blinked, and his unfocused gaze finally converged slowly on the Ranger's face. 

"Aragorn?" The Elf's voice was as subdued and indiscernible as the ghostly wind, and Aragorn could hardly make out the words.

"Yes, its me. You are safe." Aragorn kept his Elf in his arms as if trying to shelter him from the whole world. His familiar smell surrounded Legolas, and it grounded the aghast soul.

Legolas realized that he was still in that room. He jumpily snapped his head toward the pedestal which held the seeing stone, but it was empty.

Denethor was in the room too, and his dark eyes observed Legolas warily. 

"What happened?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas could not tell him about the last memory and the horrible fire eye he had seen when there was someone else in the room. He merely asked, "where is the seeing stone? It is evil..."

Aragorn's eyes widened, and he turned to look at Denethor.

Denethor frowned, "The Anor stone? It has been locked up in the vault for a century."

"It was here!" Legolas explained urgently, "and it is corrupted!"

"None sense!" Denethor spatted, "The Palantíri were our heirloom. They represent Dúnedain's history and glory. How dare you disrespect us by making such an accusation when you entered a private chamber that you had no right to pry?!"

Aragorn did not want to stoke up animosity now, as he knew Denethor did not like him. He bowed his head amenably, "my apology, my lord. My friend must have been lost."

"If you cannot control your friend, how can you command a troop? It is a mistake that my father listened to your nonsense." Denethor snarled, "now leave."

Aragorn helped Legolas up and hastily took him back to his room. Legolas was still a little torpid and out of himself, as if half of his soul hadn't returned. Aragorn settled him on the bed and quickly brewed some herbal tea to calm his nerve.

"Was it the mark?" Aragorn asked blatantly.

Legolas nodded, lips pressed tied, fear lingered in his eyes.

"How bad was it?"

"All of the sealed memories are back now," Legolas muttered.

Aragorn didn't reply for a while but rubbed his own forehead in great distress. He then inquired, "did they just returned?"

"They had been returning to me on and off since we left Imladris. But today, when I saw the seeing stone, the last piece returned."

"And you have never thought about telling me?!"

"You have to focus on Umbar."

"You are unbelievable." Aragorn stood up in frustration and paced to and fro in the room, "We should return to Imladris as soon as possible. Lord Elrond may be able to help you seal it again."

"No, we have talked about it. There is nothing much he could have done. One more seal, my mind might be torn into pieces, and I'd rather die than living in madness." Legolas's hand pressed on the amulet over layers of clothes, "he said at some point, I may have to fight him. I just didn't anticipate this day comes this fast."

"Maybe it's my fault...we are too close to Mordor, and it may affect you."

"Don't be ridiculous. You've done nothing wrong." Legolas paused, then continued thoughtfully and dolefully, "though...it may be a good idea if I leave you."

"What?!"

"He had been trying to lure me to triggers. The bird, the seeing stone...He was trying to get to me intentionally. I am but a worthless Elf, and there must have been a reason that he wants my obedience. Before, it was my father that he wanted to get to, but now, his target maybe you."

Aragorn opened his mouth to refute the senseless idea, but Legolas quickly continued before he had the chance, "when we were captured by those Orcs, they might have reported us to their master, and Sauron knew I am with you now. He wants me to be his spy, to do his bidding against you."

"These are mere unsounded conjectures! I am but a Ranger. Why would he pay attention to me!"

"You are also the heir of the throne of Gondor."

"Who had been forgotten and has no power."

Legolas shook his head, "I will be a danger to you. What if he broke me and command me to kill you in your sleep?"

"He won't break you. You said the amulet will shield most of his power."

"For now, but for how long?" 

"I don't care!" Aragorn's exclaim startled Legolas, but the Ranger was not yielding, "I don't care if you will be broken or not. I don't care if i will be killed in my dream. If you want to go somewhere else, I will go with you. But I will never give up on you, no matter what you say or do!"

Legolas gaped at him, eyes glistening, "you are a fool."

"You promised to always stay by my side. Did you forget?" Aragorn stood in front of him, gently lifted his chin, stroking his cheek with so much care and affection. 

Legolas leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. His mind was still troubled but was less scared and despair. He thought, with Aragorn by his side, maybe he could win, maybe he would survive this long-overdue calamity.

It was not too bad at first. Legolas could not even remember the occasional terrors that shooked him out of dreams, and it posed no threat to their daily activities. The amulet had been worked well against the Dark Lord's incursion, and gradually, Legolas was no longer as afraid and vigilant as he used to be.

It was during their attack of Umbar, the symptoms suddenly exasperated. 

The battle of that night was brutal and bloody, and the conflagration of the fleet of Corsairs of Umbar turned the night into day, and the smell of burning wood and acrid smog could be perceived from Gondor. After that night, Sauron would lose his griping of the sea, and Gondor's threat from the south would be greatly debilitated.

Legolas fought alongside Aragorn, and he followed the Ranger marched into the Great Hall of the Haven.  To his surprise, a sorcerer was there and tried to cast a spell on them. But before the chanting was finished, Legolas shot an arrow through his chest. They all thought he was dead, so when Aragorn killed the Captain of the Haven and thus declaimed their victory, Legolas habitually went back to pick up the arrows that could still be used, as their supply could be deficient at times and he had to be frugal. 

As he hunkered down to pull the arrow out of the Sorcerer's chest, the supposedly dead Man suddenly leaped toward Legolas, a hand grasped the amulet on his neck. The Sorcerer stained the emerald with his blood, and he whispered something indiscernible before he dropped dead.

Legolas didn't heed much of the unexpected episode. Until he exhaustedly collapsed on the first bed that he could find. 

He opened his eyes and saw fire.

An endless sea of fire, mercilessly devouring everything he could see.

It was Mirkwood. It was his home.

"No...no no no no..." He didn't understand what was going on, but panic and fear had claimed all his sanity. He could hear the screaming and shrilling of pain and fear coming from the center of the horrible conflagration, like the howling of the ghosts who were lost forever in voidness. It was the Wood Elves. They were calling for help.

"Ada...Ada!" Legolas plunged himself into the scalding fire, didn't care if he would be burned to a crisp in such a manifestation of an inferno. 

The grandeur King's Halls now were blazing like the lair of a Balrog. The elegant pillars were collapsing as he approached. He managed to slip inside before the doors were jammed by falling debris, but inside was still fire and smog, and he couldn't even open his eyes.

He saw guards and soldiers were on fire, their fair skin scorched and peeling off from their bone, and they shrieked so piercingly and lugubriously that Legolas was shaking in horror. He couldn't save any of them, for there was not a drop of water he could find. Only fire, ever-burning fire.

Where was Thranduil? Where was his father?!

"Ada!!!!" He shouted again and again until his throat was scalded by thick smog. No one answered him.

Finally, he found him.

Thranduil was standing in the middle of the garden, under the Laurinquë trees that his mother planted. But the golden stripes had turned into golden flames. Fire surrounded the King, twirling around him like fanatic dancers. His pale golden hair flowing in the ascending heat waves, and his stern but beautiful eyes were blurred by despair.

"Ada!!!" Legolas wanted to fling himself to the King's side, as he knew there was no way out, and they will die in this burning inferno. But it was ok, he could die at Thranduil's side, and their ash would commingle with each other, and no power could ever separate them again.

"Legolas!" Thranduil's calm was gone the moment he saw his son and was replaced by horror, "why are you here?! You shouldn't be here. You are far, far away on the other side of the world!"

Legolas's passage was blocked by a falling tree, which almost hit him. He yelled with all his might, "Ada! Wait, I'm coming! I'm coming back to you!"

"You foolish child! You should never have come back!" Tears were trickling down the King's sharp and elegant cheek, and his voice was immensely plangent.

Fire separated them, and Legolas couldn't find a way. He became desperate and was praying to Valar to let him die at the side of his father.

Then, a voice suddenly arose right near his ear. He could even feel the puff of air.

"Valar will never answer your prayer. "

And then, Legolas saw him.

The slender yet towering giant shadow of Sauron looming over the Elven Prince and Legolas couldn't move, as if his limbs turned into stone.

He felt like an insect facing the rage of the ocean.

Sauron's hollow eyes gazed upon him, and his raspy, horrendous voice echoed in his mind, "this is what will happen if you do not obey me. Your home, your beloved father, everything you've ever cherished, will burn to oblivious. As if they had never existed. You won't even find them in the Hall of Mandos because I will claim their soul. And yet, my little pet. You will live. Alone."

The claw-like hand touched his face, and Legolas flinched in disgust. Yet a thread of sobriety came back to him, and he suddenly realized this was a dream.

This was not real.

A trifle of courage began to grow, and Legolas kept his mouth shut. He shall not beg the Dark Lord, no matter what he would do to him.

"Kill Aragorn, and I will set you free." Sauron commanded, "one day the Heir of Isildur lives, one day you will suffer. And if you think you've known pain, you are wrong."

Legolas spatted, "No!"

Sauron laughed. It was the most abhorrent laugh Legolas had ever heard.

"Very well." declared the Dark Lord, "let the music begin."

**********
It was almost dawn. Aragorn was still discussing the aftermath of the battle in the council room with the general of Gondor while a soldier came in reluctantly, telling him that there was something wrong with the Elf.

Aragorn rushed toward the chamber where Legolas took for a short rest before their departure back to Gondor. And before he reached the door, a bone-chilling shrill pierced his ear.

It was Legolas's voice!

He had never heard the Elf screamed like this, for Legolas was always enduring and quiet no matter how bad he was injured in battles. What was happening?!

And when he stumbled into the room, the scene in front of him curdled his blood. Legolas was thrashing and struggling as if in great pain. His eyes were closed, and cold sweat had soaked his tunic. Several soldiers were barely holding him down, and one of them turned to Aragorn for help.

"We cannot wake him up! "

Aragorn scattered to the bed, but his efforts of waking Legolas were also unsuccessful. He noticed the blood-stained amulet was radiating ominous, dark energy. It felt tainted and corrupted, not at all like before.

"Legolas! Wake up!!!" He called his lover's name over and over to no avail. His heart was torn into pieces as he watching Legolas shaking in pain.

At that moment, a herald came and report that a stranger wanted to see him.

Aragorn was distraught as hell and had no patience for strangers or anyone else, but the Herald came back less than half an hour later and said the stranger refused to leave.

Cursing inwardly, the Ranger strode toward the Hall.

In the shivering candle lights stood a slender but very tall and dignified figure. A long silky cape shielded his whole body, and a hood hid his face. Hearing Aragorn's approaching steps, the stranger turned around and lifted his hood.

For a moment, the Hall fell into silence as every Man in the room gawked, dumbfounded. 

He was an Elf, an extremely beautiful and graceful one. Golden hair gleaming as if it was blessed by the first ray of sunlight; sharp and elegant lineament was both captivating and intimidating. Under the lush dark eyebrows was a pair of icy cold blue eyes, and anyone who was pinned under them would be frozen in reverence.

And before the Elf told his name, Aragorn had already guessed who he was, for the resemblance was remarkable.

"I am Thranduil, King of Woodland Realm. I come for my son." Proclaimed the Elf.

Notes:

Another long chapter caz I really want Thranduil to show up XD
And I have written more than 100000 word for this fic now, never thought I'd write such a long English fic! Thank you for all your supports and love!

Chapter 42

Summary:

Aragorn met Thranduil for the first time

Aragorn gaped at the King of Woodland Realm, and all words eluded him. He had imagined meeting Legolas's father on many different occasions, but never like this. 

Thranduil's gaze was piercing and cold as if reproaching for his incapability to protect his son, though the King surely had no way of knowing Legolas's current condition.

"Where is Legolas?" Demanded the King.

Aragorn swallowed in a sudden onset of nerve. He inclined his head and answered," he is trapped in a nightmare. I do not know how to wake him."

"Take me to him, now!"

Aragorn hastily ushered Thranduil to the room. Upon seeing his son, Thranduil couldn't maintain his calm and stately mien anymore. He flung to the side of the bed, promptly clasped Legolas's left hand. The coldness and sternness seemed engraved in his soul yet dispersed and left with something heavy and painful, tinged with nostalgic longing. Aragorn had never seen such a complicated, unarticulated expression that was showing on the Elven King's face, for he could sense but couldn't fully comprehend the massive iceberg of emotions burying under the beguiled calm surface.

Thranduil brought Legolas's hand to his lips, and he spoke in a low and steady voice, "Legolas, ion nîn, ada is here." His lips' moved against the fingers, and it sent a shiver through the Prince's body.

Yet Legolas didn't wake up. He kept shaking and twitching with eyes closed, fragmental and indistinguishable syllables and words leaked out of his trembling lips.

Thranduil held the tremulous body in his long, strong arms, and he commenced to whispering things into Legolas's ear. Aragorn could not make out what he was saying, but soon Legolas's shaking miraculously attenuated.

And then Aragorn heard Legolas's confused voice, "ada?"

He was awake!

Aragorn wanted to rush to his side, but he didn't dare to move for some reason.

"Yes, it is me. I'm here." Thranduil hushed, a hand gently brushed away a strand of damp hair from Legolas's forehead, and all the ice in his eyes melted into vernal spring.

Legolas's misty eyes watered up, and he gazed at Thranduil as if he was still dreaming, except it was a good dream rather than a cursed nightmare. He muttered, "I know this is a dream. This cannot be real. "

"I am real." Reassured the King, pulling Legolas's hand to touch his own cheek, "I've come for you, my green leaf."

The warm, smooth feeling on his fingertip shooked Legolas out of the torpid, dreamy state, and he withdrew his hand as if scalded but then reached out again, tracing the King's lineaments gingerly. His eyes widened incredulously, "you are here! You are actually here!"

Legolas plunged himself into the King's embrace, didn't care if there were other people in the room. He couldn't see anyone else, for the center of his whole universe was right in front of him. He buried his face into Thranduil's neck, inhaling the long-lost smell greedily like a droughty land quaffing the first rain in a thousand years. And Thranduil let him. 

Aragorn watched the King embraced his son. Two golden figures clutched at each other, basking in the hazy candlelight, and even the time seemed to slow down around them. They were like a pair of immemorial statues, existing in immortality, and nothing could have separated them. Nothing could have come between them.

It made the Ranger's heart throbbing in misery.

Legolas was still shaking. He remembered the dream, remembered the feeling of being burned alive, remember seeing his skin cracked and burst, scorched until they break into pieces and fell, and exposed the fresh, squirming muscles under. The fire consumed his eyes, gushed into his throat, his stomach, and it was like drinking acid, all his organs were blistering, and his blood boiling.

It was beyond painful. He screamed and screamed, but that was all he could have done. He almost begged, but Thranduil saved him.

He was so scared. He had never been this scared before. It was the first time he remembered what happened in those torturous dreams, and it was hell.

He clutched at Thranduil's cloak, unwilling to let go. Thranduil kept whispered something into his ear. At first he was too distracted and flustered to realized what it was, until it calmed his soul and allayed his nerve. It was the song Thranduil used to hum to him. The lullaby echoed in his youthful dreams.

His breath and heartbeat finally slowed down, and the uncontrollable shivering abated.

Thranduil wanted to stand up, but Legolas wouldn't let go of his cloak. The King had no heart to break it from his son, so he turned his head to look at Aragorn.

"I need to take him to Imladris. The amulet is tainted by a curse. That is why he gets a hold on him."

Legolas thence realized there was someone else in the room. He reluctantly let go of Thranduil's cloak and tried to sit straight and hid his gaffe, but without much success.

Aragorn came nearer, and it tormented him to see Legolas so pale and startled. He asked in bewilderment, "I beg your pardon, my Lord. But how do you know?"

"That is not important." Thranduil dismissively rejoined, "now, I need some herbs as soon as possible. Can you get me these?"

He handed over a piece of folded paper. Aragorn was about to open it but was forestalled by the King.

"Don't open it now. Take it out with you." Thranduil commanded in a haughty, irrefutable tone.

Aragorn frowned but didn't biker. He looked at Legolas with worried eyes. Legolas tried to squeeze out a smile, "I'm fine. I will be with you soon. Give me a moment."

Aragorn nodded and quietly left the room. 

Legolas could think clearer now as the terror extended from the dream began to wane a little. He observed Thranduil carefully, still couldn't fathom how this could be real.

It has been 18 years. He hadn't seen his father for 17 years, and now he was right there, sitting on the side of his bed, gazing at him with such familiar piercing eyes.

But why did Thranduil looked... ashy and tired? Was it from the travelling?

"Are you really here?" Legolas frowned deeply, befuddled, "Did you leave Mirkwood by yourself? how did you even find me? "

Thranduil observed Legolas closely. He had been watching his son closely in the recent three years since the first time he felt the unusual emotional turmoil from Legolas. But seeing Legolas in real life was still completely different from watching him in the seeing stone. His son, pallid but alive, sitting right in front of him, reacting to his voice and his touches. It was dream-like for the King, too. But he had to keep calm for both of their sake. 

"I have my ways. " Thranduil stood up, and as Legolas recovered from the horrific nightmare, the King's gentle side also gradually dwindled, and the remoteness was put back on, "we need to leave for Imladris tomorrow morning, try not to fall asleep. I will be back soon."

"Ada!"

Thranduil halted his step as Legolas hastened up pell-mell as if wanting to grab Thranduil's arm to stop him from leaving, but something deterred him, and his hand extended awkwardly in the air momentarily, then retracted.

The chasm between them still existed, if not deeper.

"I...Don't go." Legolas implored in a strenuous tune.

Thranduil's tight lips seemed curled slightly, almost smiling, "I am not going anywhere. Though I need to speak with the Ranger alone. You just stay here and wait for me."

"Aragorn? You have met him, right?" Legolas licked his lips nervously, "he is Arathorn's son, the one you told me about before I left."

"I know exactly who he is. " The King's stare was intense and anxiety-inducing as always, and not knowing if it was an illusion, but Legolas could sense some bitterness lingered. Then Thranduil's countenance eased as he reassured, "don't worry. I won't be too harsh on him."

**********

Aragorn was reading the list of herbs as the King entered the Haven Captain's study. He bowed toward the King, feeling unusually nervous, even more so than meeting with Lord Elrond.

Aragorn had heard many stories about the greatest Elven King of their time from Legolas, yet Thranduil exceeded his imagination. 

"My lord."

Thranduil tilted his chin, sizing up Aragorn in a challenging, fastidious manner, "you have been loyal to my son. For that, I am grateful."

"It was my pleasure to have Legolas as my friend."

"Just friend?"

Aragorn swiftly glanced at Thranduil, unsure of the meaning behind the question.

"To me, Legolas is much more than a friend."

Thranduil moved around the table piled with maps, eyes trailing along with the wooden figures represented troops, fleets and fortresses, proclaimed nonchalantly, "Legolas and I will leave in the morning."

To the King's surprise, Aragorn replied spontaneously, "I will go with you."

Thranduil raised his lush eyebrows, "aren't you occupied here?"

"It's just aftermaths. I am not required." Aragorn insisted in a tone without much space for negotiation, "I will accompany you and Legolas to Imladris. It is a long way, and Legolas's condition is exigent. I can help."

Thranduil contemplated for a while and approved with a slight nodding, "if you insist. Your company for my son may be helpful when things get...strenuous."

The air in the room was stagnant, and Aragorn ventured to inquire, "my Lord, may I ask how do you know where to find Legolas, and how do you know that...the seal is broken? Your timing was impeccable and hardly seemed like a provident fortuity."

"Are you suspecting me?" Thranduil squinted his eyes disgruntledly.

"That is not what I mean. "Aragorn contrived to explain, "I am just trying to understand. And these ingredients that you gave me are for the empathy potion. But it is not all the same as the conventional recipe. "

Thranduil snorted, "I see. Elrond taught you well on healing magic. It is modified to fit to share mental afflictions rather than the physical ones."

"Why? Why do you need a mental empathy potion? Is it for Legolas?"

"It is for me."

Aragorn gapes, unsure if he heard it right.

Thranduil explained in an uninterested tone, "how do you reckon I managed to keep Legolas's mind in one piece the first time this happened? I had to share his pain so that he won't have to bear it all alone."

Aragorn was speechless, "but isn't this will put your sanity at risk too?"

"Yes, but I am older and thus is more resilient to such infliction. However, a century has passed, and the connection between Legolas and I was worn by time, so I need to replenish its power to help Legolas bearing it until we reach Imladris."

"This is madness! Does Legolas know about this?"

"Of course not."

"He will be devastated! He would never have you suffer for him!"

"And that is why you have to swear never utter a single word about it to my son."

Aragorn stared at the Elven King, and he shooked his head, "no, I cannot lie to him."

"You have to, unless you wish him pain and suffering."

"It doesn't have to be you." Aragorn exclaimed, "I will drink the potion and bear his pain."

"No mortal mind can bear the infliction Sauron casts on Legolas, and if you break, Legolas will be heartbroken."

"I am stronger than you think!"

"Do you?" Thranduil chuckled as if looking at a willful child, "my answer is still no. You can either help me gather these herbs or leave. "

This was the first time Aragorn experienced Thranduil's domineering attitude first-handedly, and he couldn't help but felt peevish and defiant, "I can gather them and drink them myself!"

"And do you know the ritual? " Challenged the King, "for it is no longer the same as the original empathy spell."

Silent.

Aragorn swallowed and slumped into the chair in defeat, "he will hate me if he knows that I withheld such a secret from him."

"Then he will never know." Reassured Thranduil.

**********
Thranduil, Legolas and Aragorn left Umbar on one of the unburned Corsair ships when the first ray of sunlight spurting out of the horizon. Legolas stood on the deck, leaning against the side and basking in the rosy dawn glow as the sea wind flipping his hair. The way a new sun splashing half of the canopy with flamboyant, stunning colours always gave him hope and joy, which was what he needed the most at the moment.

Aragorn found him there and passed him a cup of hot tea, "you should eat something. "

"I'm not hungry." Legolas sighed and turned to face the Ranger, "what did my father tell you? Did he give you a hard time?"

Aragorn replied, "he didn't say much, only that he will take you to Imladris."

"He didn't tell you how did he find me? And why in Valar's names did he come all by himself?! At least he should have brought some guards with him!" Legolas grunted.

Aragorn shrugged, "you could have ask him yourself."

"He evades the question. Which is not new." Legolas rolled his eyes and turned to the rising sun again.

"What was it like?" Aragorn stood beside him and asked.

Legolas knew what Aragorn was asking about, yet he was reluctant to recall the horrid dream he had. After an interstice of silence, he commenced saying, "Everything was burning. My home, my people, my father...I saw him, Aragorn. I saw Sauron, and he told me to kill you. "

Aragorn didn't seem surprised.

Legolas paused for a second, and when hearing no reply from Aragorn, he continued, "And when I said no, he set me on fire. It felt real. I felt like being burned alive."

Aragorn's heart contracted in great pang. He had to clutch his hand into a fist to stop himself from shouting in a fury and a feeling of futility. Sauron was torturing Legolas because of him. It was him bringing the most unimaginable suffering to the one he loved.

"You should have just said yes."

"What?!" Legolas looked at the Ranger with a reproachful expression, "how could you say that?! We shall never bow to evil and tyrant!"

"I'm just saying. If it is too much, it is ok to say yes." Aragorn put his hand over Legolas's hand, trying to pass his own warmth and strength to the peaky Elf.

"And then become the Dark Lord's slave? No thanks. I'd rather die."

"If you die, I will follow."

"Don't be daft. We don't even go to the same place after we die."

"As an Elf, you remarkably lack romantic sense."Remarked the Ranger .

They both laughed, and the pensiveness temporarily receded. None of them noticed another golden figure stood some distance, observing them with a pair of unreadable eyes.

Thranduil had seen many times how joyful and lighthearted Legolas could be when he was with the Ranger, but this was the first time he beheld it with his own eyes, and it was much more real, too real for his liking. 

He should not be jealous of the Ranger, but he did.

It was almost instinctual. Legolas was always his and his alone, but he let him go, and now this Ranger had snatched away what belonged to him. The King felt robbed and was bitter, angry, almost vengeful at times, but he knew well that it was sick and twisted and dangerous. 

He didn't want to admit that he was actually relieved when Legolas remembered everything. The familiar desperate love that his son had for him was like a prove that Legolas still belonged to him, that he hadn't really lost his green leaf. And this very thought made him feel pathetic and self-loathing.

Thranduil knew he had to hid it well, for he was in no position to be envious at all. 

They landed at the great port of Gondor and then travelled north on horses. For days Legolas did not dare to sleep, fearing for what would haunt him subsequently. Although Elves could endure fatigue way better than men, they still have limits. Legolas almost fell from his horse for the third time of that day, and if not Thranduil pulled him in time, he would have fallen to the ground.

"You should ride with me." Thranduil remarked, "it is safer, and you can take a nap."

Legolas blushed. The last time he rode with Thranduil was after the night in Dol Guldur, and he thought it would never happen again. His eyes darted in the direction of Aragorn. The Ranger was quiet these recent days, even more so than his usual solemn demeanours. Currently, he was also looking at Legolas with worried eyes, but Thranduil's suggestion obviously irked him, for his frown deepened slightly.

When Legolas told Aragorn about his twisted relationship with his father, he'd never thought that they would meet one day...

Things had been...to say at least, awkward between them three.

"I...it is ok, ada. I don't want to fall asleep." Legolas straightened himself, trying to chase away the sleepness.

"It is going to take months before we will reach Imladris. You cannot stay awake all the time." Thranduil's voice was surprisingly gentle, "we can wake you up if it begins."

"What if you cannot wake me up? Just like what happened a century ago. "

Legolas was so tired. He had never been this tired before. Time was stretching. Everything moved slower than usual, and his thoughts were muddy and draggy. He wished to be able to just lean on something and sleep, but he was afraid...

He knew insisting on not sleeping was foolish, as Sauron didn't have to wait for him falling into a slumber to seize his mind. If the Dark Lord wished, he could have pulled him into the dis-embodied torture chamber anytime. Legolas suspected the only reason he was spared for now was either because Sauron was busy or that the cunning depraved Maia intended to give him some false hope of controlling the situation and then attack him when he least expected.

Aragorn urged his horse to draw near Legolas and asked quietly, "do you want to ride with me? At least I can stop you from falling."

Legolas raised his tired eyes and meet Aragorn's persistent, reliable mien. He contemplated for a second, then nodded.

Thranduil watched Legolas dismounted and then was pulled and sat in front of Aragorn. His son's slender body was almost completely shrouded by the Ranger's wider, stronger build, and Legolas leaned back into Aragorn's chest with so much ease and familiarity and trust, as if he had done it a thousand times, as if he belonged there.

The Elven King turned his gaze to somewhere else, yet the feeling of something stuffy and heavy silted in his throat and chest lingered. 

It was going to be a long, long trip.

Notes:

Updating this chapter at 2am XD

Chapter 43

Summary:

Sauron's prophesy

The three travellers camped on the west bank of Anduin, at the brim of a mysterious forest north of Minas Tirith. Across the river was the luxuriant woodland of Ithilien. Choppy waves of colourful tree canopies gently undulating with the rising and falling of the earth, and the hazy dusk glow veiled the steep cliffs of Ephel Dúath, expunged the gloomy, looming shadow of Mordor with a cheerful, vibrant ambience.

"It looks almost like an Elven land." Muttered Legolas as he looked out the fair forest across the great river.

Aragorn had gone to the woods to gather some herbs. There was only him and Thranduil. It made Legolas nervous.

Thranduil sauntered to his side, "do not be deceived by the illusion of light and mist. We are too close to Mordor, yet this is the only way to pass. I fear Sauron's grasp on your mind will be stronger around this area."

"...Very comforting, ada, thank you." Legolas rejoined sardonically.

Thranduil's lips curled slightly, and his gaze shifted toward his son.

Legolas was pale and withered, but the evening light added some rosy colour to his cheek. 

"How are you, Legolas?"

Somehow this very simple and prosaic question was out of Legolas's expectation. He stammered a little, "I... I'm good, most of the time. How about you, ada? How is Woodland Realm?"

"Still the same. "

"You looked tired and worn. Did something happen? Why didn't you bring anyone with you?" 

The King appeared to be dashing and proud in other people's eyes, but Legolas had been noticing the fatigue and pallor underlying those deep, blue eyes and high cheekbones at the moment he saw him in Umbar.

"Nothing happened. I came alone because I don't want your condition to be known to irrelevant people."

"Are you with Bard the Bowman still?" Asked Legolas in a casual tone.

Thranduil squinted at Legolas, seemingly a little startled, "how do you know about Bard?"

Legolas shrugged, trying his best to act natural and nonchalant while concealing the familiar pang echoing in his chest, "I saw you two during the war."

Thranduil frowned, and then a revelation came to him. And as he recalled the confrontational conversation between them in Dale, this new piece of information made more sense of Legolas's sudden explode of temper at the time. 

"It was Nothing serious. And no, we are not together." Thranduil obviously couldn't tell his son that the major reason he started something with the man was not admiring the hero's good-looking, bravery or righteousness, but was that in certain angles, Bard looked eerily similar to Legolas...

He couldn't have Legolas, so he sought out someone that he could have for consolation, which was both disrespectable and pathetic, and he knew it.

He had never anticipated that it was the last straw that exacerbated the tension and finally drove Legolas to leave him.

Legolas did not appear to be elated by the information, and the silence between them once again stretched.

"What have you been doing these years? Lord Elrond sent me a letter some years ago, saying that you have been helping the Rangers?"

"Yes I did. The Dúnedain are amazing warriors, and I have learnt much from them."

"Has Aragorn treated you well?"

Legolas lowered his head, a little embarrassed and a little shy coy, "he has been very kind and caring. "He stole a few glances from the King, yet Thranduil's expression was unreadable.

"So you are happy?"

"I was. At least before this...cursed mark awoke again."

"We will find a way to fix it. "Thranduil rejoined in a stern, unquestionable tone as if he had already found a solution.

Legolas observed his ada for a long moment, and there were repressed yet fervid emotions fermenting in his azure irises. How many times had he dreamed of going back home and be held by his father again, and now Thranduil was here, yet the fissure between the father and the son was unbridgeable, and he couldn't even say it out loud how much he still loved him, how desperate he still desired him and not even happiness could have saved him from this sinful love.

Legolas said quietly, "I miss you."

And something in Thranduil's eyes just melted. Ice became spring water, rippling with deep, unperceivable feelings. He extended a hand gently stroked Legolas's cheek, sharp lips sealed tight, yet Legolas could feel the longings echoed in his heart. He closed his eyes and leaned into his father's touch, stealing this momentary indulgence from condemnation. 

But the hand retracted abruptly when Aragorn's figure emerged from the shades of the forest. Legolas quickly straightened himself and walked back to the camp. Thranduil stood near the river for a little longer, watched as the Ranger sat next to Legolas and took his hand, saying something in a genuine, caring expression. 

Legolas was happy, and that was something Thranduil couldn't give him. The very thought stung like a needle.

Should he be worry? Aragorn was a Dúnadan, and though their life span was longer than other men, they were still mortal. When he grew old and weary and eventually pass away from this world, how would Legolas get any consolation?

**********

Legolas tried all his might not to fall asleep, but he was too exhausted after days of travelling, and when the irresistible waves of somnolence cascaded over him, he couldn't help but surrender to it. 

Thranduil noticed the subtle changes in Legolas's breathing pace, as well the misty, hazy eyes. He shifted his gaze to Aragorn, gave him a meaningful look.

Aragorn drew near and presented a small pouch filled with the herbs Thranduil asked.

"Are you sure about this?" Aragorn hesitated.

Thranduil gave him a languished look and took the pouch, "if Sauron is going to interrogate him tonight, I have to try to stay awake, so that at least I would not be affected by hallucinations generated from the torment, and could also ground part of Legolas's mind to the reality and make it easier for us to pull him out. When it starts, you have to try your best to wake him up, whispering into his ear and tell him all the good memories you shared, for I may not be able to speak at the time."

Aragorn answered solemnly, "I will do all I can."

Thranduil nodded, and then he began to tamp and pound down the herbs in a boiling pot, poured in some water from his own waterskin and lit the fire. He kept chanting in Sindarin, the deep resonating voice induced a subtle vibration in the early autumn night air.

"I need a strand of Legolas's hair." Thranduil requested, and Aragorn immediately drew near the sleeping Elf and cut off a morsel strand. Thranduil threw them into the boiling potion, then cut his own finger with a knife and let the blood dropped in. Aragorn never remembered blood and hair were required for empathy spell, but then it could be necessary modifications to redirect its power from physical domain to spiritual region.

As the potion about to finish, Legolas commenced stirring.

This time he "woke up" in a dark, dank and cold dungeon-like place. Gaint and coarse stone walls enclosed around him, and there were claw marks, blood stains and deformations caused by unknown devices. The air was tangy and stuffy, full of the putrifying smell of maggots infesting in blood and fleshes, and it made his stomach convulsed. 

His wrists were pulled up and shackled in iron cuffs and chains connected to the stone ceiling. His feet could barely touch the ground, and thus most of his weight was burdened on his wrists, and the pulling pain was so vivid that he didn't at all realized that he was in a dream.

Legolas didn't know how did he get here. Fear slithered up his back and froze his blood.

Then something...someone, emerged from the darkness.

It was a stunningly beautiful being, beyond Elf or Man. His fair skin and pale golden hair glowed in the darkness like the cynosure scintillating in a gloomy night dome. An ineffable aura of divinity radiated from every inch of his skin, and instantly Legolas was enthralled by the unimaginable light.

"I see. Most people do prefer this form." The mysterious being stood in front of Legolas, his smile was breathtaking, yet Legolas could perceive a tinge of scorn, so fleeting and trivial that he almost thought it was a trick of the light.

"Who are you?" Legolas questioned gingerly, "could you please untie me?"

"My name is Annatar." 

Annatar...Annatar...A familiar name...Where did he hear of it?

Annatar, Lord of Gifts...

No...no it couldn't be...

Legolas's eyes widened drastically as he recalled the story behind that name. Sauron used the exact alias to deceive Elves and Men and forged the Rings of Power!

"You are...Sauron?" Legolas could not understand. How could someone so angelic be the same one who almost destroyed the middle earth, who killed thousands after thousands of innocent lives just to fulfilled his thirst for power?

Sauron grinned as he drew nearer, circling around the helpless prey with leisurely steps, "I thought since pain and suffering won't make you obey, maybe we can try something else. Maybe I can make you like me, or even love me, just like how others always do when they see me in this form. After all, you are all just some superficial, simple-minded little things."

Anger flared in Legolas's eyes as he spat, "I will never love something like you! I'd rather love an Orc!"

"That hurts." Sauron chuckled, "Then how about I take your ada's lovely form? How about I give you everything your ada refuse to give to you, and you can be happy in my care." As he was speaking, his form altered. The light dimmed slightly, and Annatar's features morphed into Thranduill's bushy brows, piercing eyes and high cheekbones. He raised a hand and touched Legolas's face exactly as Thranduil did earlier that day, and it sent a shiver down Legolas's spine.

"You can NEVER be him. You are lesser than the dirt beneath his feet!" Legolas tried to escape the touch by tiling his head, but there was only so much space he could move.

His insult did not at all offend the Dark Lord. Sauron continued amusingly, "You know, I was actually looking forward to our little meeting. I was busy, but also bored. All my other servants are not so good-looking as you. After all, I haven't had any elven companions for centuries. "

Sauron sighed and stepped back, still maintaining Thranduil's form, "And you are such an interesting Elf. I found that we have many things in common."

Legolas gaped at him. He couldn't believe the dark lord was actually chatting with him.

"I do not think so. I am not a blood-thirsty crazy monster." Legolas refuted with a jeer.

"We both love someone who refused to love us back. And we both followed them with utmost loyalty and devotion, yet eventually all been discarded in the darkness, haunted only by memories."

Legolas was speechless for a while. What was Sauron telling him? The Dark Lord had the capacity to love?

He couldn't be talking about...Morgoth...right?

"My father didn't discard me. I left."

"But he let you go, didn't he?" Sauron's voice also shifted into Thranduil's deep tone, "And now you are trying to settle for lesser loves, trying to persuade yourself that it is ok, that you can compromise. Yet, no matter how perfect Isildur's heir is, no matter how gentle and caring he is to you, the itch is always there, unsettles your heart, making you want to scream."

And then, a sudden pain exploded in Legolas's chest, as if his heart was squeezed by an invisible hand, and he did scream.

"Just like that." Sauron chortled, and Thranduil's elegant face contorted into a devilish grin.

The pain lasted for a short while and then stopped. Legolas gasped for air, and his body was already shaking.

"If you kill the man and surrender to me, I will give you Thranduil. He will love you in all the ways you want, and no need to fear being judged and punished by Valar or anyone else evermore. In this way, you are saving your father too, for he had been tormenting himself, trying to overcome his desire for you."

"You have tried this before, and it didn't work for both my father and me. Why don't you just give up and kill me and be done with all this nonsense!"  Legolas's voice was not as strong and firm as he wished, for the pain weakened him. 

"Oh no. You are my leisure activity. How could I kill you so quickly? Besides, I found your scream euphonious."

And then, another round of torture began. The Dark Lord didn't even need to move, and Legolas could feel knives were slicing off his skin at his back piece by piece, and his blood gushed out and cascading down his body, soddened his breeches, and trickled down all the way to his feet. His blood soon amassed into a small puddle.

However at some point, the unbearable paint greatly alleviated. It was still horrible but no longer insufferable. Legolas was confused as he thought Sauron went easy on him, but the Dark Lord appeared unaware of such change.

With a flip of the hand, Sauron paused the torture. Legolas panted heavily, yet he had no time to relax as the Dark Lord came closer once again, "what if I tell you. If Aragorn lives, if you refuse to be obedient and do things I command, your ada will die?"

Legolas's head snapped up, "you cannot get to him! Your son had failed his task!"

"I do not need to. His doom will be created by your choice." Sauron put his hand on Legolas's forehead, and then Legolas saw a vision. It was like looking into a distant mirage and the images rippling like water. But he could still make out that it was Mirkwood.

Yet Mirkwood was no longer gloomy and ominous, festering with poisonous fungus and leering spiders. It had restored the old-time glory and beauty. 

Yet it was empty, for he heard no Elven song, and all the villages and gardens were all abandoned, retaken by luxuriant bushes and vines. He perceived only the natural serenity of the wilderness.

Where was everyone?

The grandeur Kings Halls was desolated just like the villages he had seen, and the massive doors were sealed by thistles and spider webs. The once prosperous Elven Kingdom and endless passages under the mountain now haunted by empty wind and illusory whispers of a distant, defunct past.

The deeper the vision went, the more nervous and scared Legolas became. Was this future? Was this another Sauron's trick?

Then he saw Thranduil, alone, walking slowly through the uninhabited hallways. His once extravagant robe was worn and threadbare. The leaves on his crown withered, and the gems on his rod dull as dead. His steps were slow and tired as if each step would require so much strength and trying. He was still young and beautiful, yet was so pale that anyone strayed into this forgotten Kingdom would have thought that he was a ghost, lingered from a long-forgotten world, unwilling to move on.

Legolas watched his father enter a room. Not the King's chamber, but the Prince's, which was kept exactly like when he left. Although every other part of the palace was deserted and sealed by time and spider webs, Legolas's room was clean and warm, and it appeared that the King lived in his room now.

No more servants to attend to his needing. He had to start a fire in the hearth by himself. Halfway through it, Thranduil suddenly dropped the flints and slowly stood up. His hollow eyes looked out of the window and see a stream of silver moonlight fell over a shivering leaf that grew on the vine creeping onto the window frame. He looked at that piece of leaf for a very long time, and then he sighed and whispered to himself, "maybe that is the only way."

Then the King lied down on Legolas's bed and closed his eyes.

And he never moved again.

He lied there until his spirit left his body; until the once tall, strong, powerful and beautiful body commenced decomposing. Eventually, only a forgotten skeleton of an Elven King left in the rotten bed, forever sealed within the deep, labyrinthic tomb under the mountain, annihilated by time and fate.

"You are lying." Legolas knew he was not supposed to show weakness in front of Sauron, but he couldn't help. Tears raining down his cheek, and he couldn't even wipe them away.

"Elves' time is ending, and sooner or later, all of you will leave this land and go to the Undyingland. Yet do you think Valar will allow someone who had committed incest to enter Valinor?"

"Then I shall be with him!"

"You won't. You will not be able to resist the calling of the sea. Maybe you can resist it for a limited time, but not forever. It will not stop calling you until you listen to it.  Your father will not have you to stay and suffer with him for eternity. "

"I don't care. I will stay, I have to stay! "

Sauron laughed as if watching a child saying something silly, and worst, he was using Thranduil's countenance, "if I am to be defeated. If middle earth truly inaugurates a new, thriving age, this is what's going to happen to your ada. You will be separated by Valar, and even though your ada chooses to give up his life, you can never know if the Hall of Mandos will accept his soul. You will never see him again, forever."

"But why? I committed incest too. I started it! Why would Valar allow me to enter but not my father?!"

"Because he is your father, and he is responsible for your mistakes. After all, if not for his neglect and your striving for attention, such twisted affection might never have existed."

No...this could not be the future. It must be a lie!

Legolas shook his head vigorously, "I will not believe you. You lying snake!"

"I never lie. Only conceal part of the truth from time to time." Sauron's expression was almost close to pity, but the mockery was still prominent, "And I served Valar, I know them better than anyone."

Legolas was devastated, for he could sense some authenticity in Sauron's prophecy. He could not imagine the sorrow and loneliness of being the last Elf, the only Elf, left on this vast, changing land. Couldn't envision his father being the Kingdom less King, wandering in the vacant, deserted palace all alone, forgotten by the whole universe. It was a fate worse than death.

Sauron leaned in, using Thranduil's voice to whisper enchanting words into his ears, "you can change all of this, and all you need to do is to obey. I will let you keep your front of an honourable warrior. You will still fight for those ' righteous purposes.' But you will provide me with information and do as I command." 

As Legolas was trying all his might not to listen to those mesmerizing words yet was dangerously closed to the precipice, a voice gradually surfaced from the mingled thoughts and turmoils. A tender yet steady voice, like the faraway sound of the ocean currents.

"Legolas, my love, come back to me."

It had been cultivating at the back of his head like a whisper of his own mind, but now the persisting voice had breached the intangible barrier of Sauron's hold and became more and more clear, and Legolas could tell who it belonged. 

Aragorn was calling him.

Aragorn was telling Legolas the story of how they met. How the Ranger first saw Legolas walked into the small Tavern and was captivated by the gorgeous Elf instantly. How he was stunned by Legolas's agility and skills as a warrior. How happy he secretly was when Legolas told him that he wanted to stay with them. How hard he had to try to hide his fluttering heart and maintain his 'sublimity.' 

It was all sweet, soothing memories that cleared Legolas's befuddled mind instantly. And he realized:

He was dreaming.

None of this was real.

The very comprehension of the surrounding's falsehood suddenly shook the "reality" that trapped him. The hard stone walls started to shift and rippling as if they were made of slime. The ground squirmed uncannily like it was alive. And the chain that shackled his writs commenced melting.

Sauron sensed the infiltration of the interference, yet he showed no sign of frustration nor anger. He tilted his head, sneered coldly with Thranduil's face, "until next time, pet."

And then, the chain broke, and Legolas dropped to the ground. Except it was not ground anymore. It evaporated under his feet, and he was falling into an endless void.

Legolas jolted awake in Aragorn's arms, yelping and struggling in pell-mell. Aragorn firmly kept him in his embrace, shushing repeatedly and gently. The warmth of his body and power of his voice finally calmed the bewildered mind of Legolas, and the struggle subsided.

"You are fine. You are safe. You are with me."

Legolas breathed deeply, contriving to compose himself. Yet when he saw Thranduil's pallid face appeared near him, his muzzy thoughts drew him back to the torture chamber, and he mistook Thranduil to be Sauron. Legolas flinched severely and recoiled into Aragorn's chest, obviously scared of his ada.

"No! Stay away from me!"

Thranduil, who was still endeavouring to conceal the vestiges of all the horrible agony he had shared with his son, felt as if being stabbed into the heart. He couldn't know what exactly happened in Legolas's dream and thus believed his son's repulsion was directed at him. 

He quietly drew back, stood up, contrived not to trip and fall from the exhaustion, and staggered away.

Notes:

I was super busy last week so didn't get to finish this chapter yesterday. I will try to update more this week XD.
Thank you again for all your kind encouragements! Your comments truly give me strength!

Chapter 44

Summary:

The sacrifice of a father

The next day's journey was strained with apprehensive silence. Thranduil rode at the front, keeping a short distance from Legolas and Aragorn. Meanwhile, Legolas pondered the whole morning how to approach his father and apologize for his misconceive last night, yet found no opportunity. They travelled the whole day without stopping, for they wanted to reach Imladris as early as possible. 

Aragorn was also troubled by the ineffable tension. Last night he had witnessed how Thranduil took over at least half of Legolas's mental torment. He watched the iron-willed King withered to the ground, shaken violently, and gasped for air as if he were about to die. 

"Don't mind me!"The King still managed to command, though out of breath, "go wake him up!"

Aragorn tried his best to wake Legolas to shorten the suffering for both of them, but it still took too long until Legolas finally began to react to his voice. Thranduil was almost collapsing by then, yet he managed to stay awake so that he wouldn't be trapped in a hallucinated hell that was composed of all of his worst memories or fears.

The Ranger would rather himself be the one to bear the affliction. He felt guilty for not be able to save Legolas, for keeping the secret from Legolas. He felt...powerless, useless.

"Aragorn, are you tired?" Legolas asked apprehensively.

Aragorn was amazed that the Elf was still worrying about others when he was the one that couldn't even sleep. He shook his head, "you?"

"I can manage."

"You should go talk to your father. "Aragorn lowered his voice, for he knew Elves has longer earshot, "tell him it was just a reflection, he will understand."

"And tell him sorry ada I thought you are Sauron? There couldn't be an insult worse than this."

"But it is truth, and it is not your fault."

Legolas sighed, knowing Aragorn was right, and he had to sort this out. He urged his horse to catch up with Thranduil, but the latter abruptly halted his horse and tilted his head as if listening to something.

"Ada?" Legolas halted his horse too, understood that something must have alerted Thranduil.

"We are not alone."Thranduil's gaze snapped around as if those acute eyes could penetrate the swirling mist and heavy shadows of the giant oak trees.

They were galloping across Firien Wood, aiming for the Gap of Rohan. The sun had set an hour ago, and the woods were dominated by the shuffling sound of wind caressing leaves and the wailing of autumn crickets. Everything was still, except the drifting night mist shielding their view.

Legolas held his breath and listened, and he too heard a distant, galloping sound approaching them, followed by many tumultuous steps. They were still far, for Aragorn could not have even perceived them yet unless he prostrated and stick his ear to the ground.

Yet, something in those galloping and steps was unsettling, as if a shadow of presentiment was creeping up to them. The air grew still, congealed in fear, and the insensible vibration was like the hissing of a serpent, triggering the congenital reaction to hide.

"We have to turn back." Thranduil decided resolutely, "the malicious obscurity sealed our path, and they are not ordinary pawns. We do not want to engage them."

No one argued with the King, not even Aragorn, for he knew well of Elves' acuminous perceptiveness.

However, as they galloping back to the east entrance of the forest, another commotion stopped them. The similar galloping sound, except this time they were coming from the east rather than west.

Could it be coincident? That two groups of travellers decided to enter this desolated forest at the same night and caught them in between?

No...it was not coincident. 

Someone was pursuing them. Something evil and hostile, for the trees were shaking in dismay.

Legolas exchanged a worried look with Aragorn as Thranduil stirred his horse, aiming north. 

"Do we really want to leave the road?" Aragorn caught up with the King, " We could get lost in it."

"Elves will never lose their way in woods." Retorted the King dismissively, yet there was a hinge of anxiety in his voice.

The woods soon became too dense for horses to pass, and they had to abandon them and proceed on feet. By dawn they finally reached the woods' mete, and a blood-like sun was rising in the east.

They were all exhausted and decided to rest near the Mering Stream. Legolas had a major headache as if there was a string in his mind that was tautened so tight and was about to break. He went to the stream to wash his face. Aragorn watched his not-as-steady-as-usual gait apprehensively and asked quietly, "what were we running away from? "

"I cannot be sure." Answered Thranduil, his brows creasing, "but they could be from Mordor. Therefore we cannot linger for too long."

"How do they know where we are?"

Thranduil leered at him annoyingly, "I am not omniscient. "

Aragorn shut his mouth and took out some dry bread to fill his empty stomach so that he would have the strength to keep up with the two Elves. He tentatively offered some to the King. Thranduil waved his hand and declined the offer, but the kind gesture seemingly softened the King's coldness toward him.

"Without the proper protection of the amulet, it is possible Sauron can somewhat sense Legolas's whereabouts now. Maybe not very specific yet, but it can change."

Aragorn's heart sank, "they are coming for Legolas?"

"Or you. Or maybe both. " Thranduil paused and then gazed at the Ranger deeply, "it may be safer for you to go on your own way. Sauron wants to kill the last heir of Isildur and end the line of the Kings. If you leave us, he won't be able to find you anymore."

Aragorn answered sternly, almost angrily, "no, I will not leave him. "

"He won't blame you."

"I do not want to leave him."

"Even if it means death?"

"I'd rather die than living in regret through the rest of my life."

Thranduil examined the young man profoundly, then he turned away and sighed, "you truly love my son, don't you?"

"I am, my Lord."Rejoined Aragorn with candour and constancy.

Thranduil hated Aragorn when he first saw him kissing his green leaf, when he perceived Legolas' euphoria and happiness. He hated it so much that he didn't look into the Seeing Stone again for at least five years after witnessing their first kiss. He couldn't help but held an irrational grudge against the man who stole the last precious thing in his life. He regretted ever advised Legolas to find the son of Arathorn, regretted letting Legolas leave. 

It was merely a decade, and Legolas had already belonged to someone else. How could he accept it?

Now, he could no longer sustain the simple, instinctual animosity toward the Ranger, as he had seen how much the man cared about his son, how much consolation and company he could provide while Thranduil couldn't. Aragorn could declare his love proudly to anyone, yet Thranduil's feeling had to rot in the darkness. 

Of course, Legolas should be with the Ranger. It was supposed to be what Thranduil wanted, a huge improvement from the chaotic situation of incest back when they were in Woodland Realm. 

As the father, Thranduil should have given them the blessing, but he just...couldn't yet.

As they spoke, Legolas came back, still looking tired and worn but was slightly brightened up by the cool, crispy water. He perceived the weird air hanging around his ada and Aragorn and inquired curiously, "what were you talking about?"

"We better not linger." Thranduil stood up, eyes looking out to the direction of Gap of Rohan. There, a thick dark cloud hovering at the horizon, shifting and floating, rolling toward their direction with an alarming speed. The King squinted his eyes, his countenance tightened.

Legolas noticed it too. His eyes widened, "is that...Crebain?"

Aragorn knew this name. Not all birds could be trusted, especially Crebain. They possess stunning intelligence, yet were always attracted to powerful beings, and thus were known to follow the Dark Lord during the ancient times before the Last Alliance. They were the ears and eyes of Sauron and were definitely bad news.

Thranduil was right, Sauron could sense Legolas's general location, and he was tracking them.

"We have to go into Nindalf and head for Emyn Muil." Aragorn suggested, "the mist in the swamp and the shadows of the mountains can be our cover."

Thranduil nodded, "It seems to be the only choice."

Legolas felt a tiny bit uncanny seeing his father and Aragorn actually agreed with one another without a fuss this time. They swiftly quenched the fire and gathered their weapon and packs, and rushed toward the labyrinth-like wetland.

The great river of Anduin split into many channels here, and the ground was shifty and soft and obfuscated dangers beneath seemingly harmless grass and dirt. The slender and lithe Elves could have easily evaded the hidden quicksands, yet it was a field of death for most men.

The last time Thranduil was so pell-mell and flustered like this, with dirt and mud soken his cloak and perspiration on his face, he was still an elfling, escaping from Doriath under the protection of his ada Oropher. Now he was a father too, desperately trying to protect his own son from the enemy's lurking claws. The thick miasma and dank bushes hid them from the Crebain, yet the Orcs' pursuing steps were never too far and left them with no time to rest at all. 

Sometimes the treads were from the east, sometimes from the west, as if they were surrounded from every direction. As if no matter where they go, the Orcs were always tailing behind despite the shrouding mist shielding their sight. 

Thranduil surmised that there was something more powerful and evil among them. Something tightened closer to Sauron, who could sense Sauron's order and summon from anywhere, and it was stirring the Orc's direction, giving them command.

Legolas comprehended something was wrong, too. On the third day, when they were hiding in the shade of several dense bushes, he quietly told Aragorn, "I think he knows where I am."

They were all exhausted, for they barely stopped for the past three days. 

Aragorn could hear the panic and fear festering behind Legolas's calm veneer, the fear of being the cause of his father and his lover's demise. It was one of the worst nightmares Sauron would have imposed on him.

"You should leave me...It is not safe. He will kill you."

"Stop saying stupid things, Legolas." Aragorn grunted in a dismissive tone and furtively held his hand, interlaced their fingers, "I am mortal. I will die sooner or later anyway."

"Don't say that!"

"No one is dying today."Thranduil's cold, commanding voice interloped from the nearby bush, "now be quiet!"

The two shut up immediately. Legolas could almost envision Thranduil's dagger-like, reproachful stare, and he felt a bit ill-timed amusement when seeing how amenable Aragorn was to his father's orders.

Sensing Legolas's hilarity to his reaction, Aragorn gave him a dirty look, as if saying: "What?! Your dad is terrifying."

Ere long, all of them discerned a tremendous dreadfulness, and through the interstice of the branches and leaves, they saw a tall, dark figure emerged from the mist.

It had a build of a man but was definitely not a man. Dark robe shrouded its form from head to toe, and yet, Thranduil knew it was pure hollowness and voidness under it.

If the death has a shape, then it was like such. Corruption and abomination exuded from its cold breath and shapeless existence, and any life around them would be sucked dry, just like the dying grass under its feet.

A Nazgûl.

Legolas felt his blood froze, and his body transmuted into stone. A shiver ran through his body uncontrollably, and he felt Aragorn echoed his panic.

Orcs were bad enough, a Nazgûl?!

However, the worse was yet to come. Another blood-curdling, screeching shriek erupted from the depth of the mist, like daggers shooting up everyone's ear channel up to the brain. Legolas almost thought his ear must be split and bleeding, and a pang rang under his skull.

There was more than one Nazgûl pursuing them...

The Nazgûl that was closer to where they were hiding turned his head and disappeared into the mist once again as if beckoned by the shriek. The three travellers waited for a while until they could no longer hear its step, then Legolas tentatively crawled out.

It was deadly quiet.

Suddenly a raucous roar erupted yonder, and a thunderous tramp was rolling toward them. They had no time to think but burst into a sprint. 

This time the Orcs were getting too close that they could even see the pandemonium of their crooked shapes. Thranduil, Legolas and Aragorn were chased out of the wetland and entered the region of Emyn Muil, and they thought maybe the maze-like terrain would deflect and besot their pursuers. 

They were wrong. 

Legolas was reaching his limit. He hadn't been able to rest since the night in Umbar, and he had never been this tired. Every part of his body hurt, and his head was so heavy and dizzy as if mercury filled his skull, blearing his sight and befuddled his thoughts. It was hard to maintain his balance. For several times, he almost tripped when they were climbing on the precarious cliffs. 

Thranduil's strong-arm caught Legolas's waist in time, stopped the latter from falling into the abyss and pulled him back to the narrow niche they were trodding along. Legolas was a little shaken, for he would surely smash into the rocky bottom of the precipice and became a puddle of blood and meat if his father was half a second slower. Aragorn was almost scared to death, too. His heartbeat was so loud that even Legolas could hear it.

"Sorry..." Legolas muttered shamefully. An Elf was not supposed to be so clumsy...

Thranduil didn't say much, but his gaze was filled with apprehension. He knew Legolas couldn't sustain too much longer. 

And himself was tired too, for he was feeling Legolas's fear, weariness and guilt. And more unsettling, a sense of determination.

He conjectured that Legolas was considering leaving them both so that he and Aragorn can be safe.

Maybe Legolas was even considering surrender himself to Sauron.

And what would Sauron do to his son should he has him, not only mental but also physical? He probably won't kill him, but it would be a fate worse than death.

The mere thought made the King shudder.

Thranduil could not let it happen. He had to save Legolas, no matter what.

Weariness took a toll on them and slowed them down, and finally, the Orcs caught up. 

They were dashing toward an old, shabby suspension bridge stretching across two summits. The plan was to rush over the bridge and then cut the ropes. Yet before they could reach the bridge, Orcs swarmed them.

The two Elves and a Man fought fiercely, and though it was the first time they all fought together, the collaboration was immaculate. Soon a zone of dead Orc bodies formed around their defending circle. As they endeavoured to push toward the bridge, three shadows of pure hollowness treaded out from the huddle of Orcs and Goblins. 

Three Nazgûls.

Thranduil, Legolas and Aragorn were all frozen in instinctual fear. As the three dark figures approaching, every plant around them withered and died, and the air became cold, dingy and thick. Everything they touched would be corrupted and drawn of life, for they were the manifestations of what was more depraved and scary than death.

It was said that Nazgûls could not be killed. How could two Elves and one Man stand a chance against three of them plus a whole pack of Orcs?

"Run!" Thranduil shouted.

They were close to the bridge. Aragorn and Legolas sprinted toward it, and halfway through, Legolas noticed there was no step following him.

His heart paused as he turned and saw Thranduil was still on the cliff, slaying waves after waves of incoming Orcs, stopping them from stepping onto the bridge. And the three tall figures of the Ring Wraiths were approaching him.

"Ada!!!" Legolas's blood curdled, and he was about to turn back, but Aragorn held his arm, "We have to go!"

Thranduil was also shouting to them, "Go! Now! I will follow!"

Legolas was pulled all the way to the other side of the bridge, but all of a sudden, he surmised that Thranduil was not planning to cross the bridge at all. 

When he looked back again, he saw the three abominations surrounded his ada from all directions. Their shadow inundated the golden King like stormy clouds veiled the sun. And Thranduil was not yielding. He stood tall and proud, guarding the bridge like an unmoving statue.

When the Nazgûls attacked, a glacial, torpid and paralyzing sensation surged through the sword that Thranduil held and infected his arms. It was the coldness of chaos, of nothingness, and then the sensation transmuted into pain. He groaned in agony yet still managed to stand his ground and sustained the powerful attacks of the worst enemies.

Whenever his sword slashed into the Nazgûls' "flesh", he felt nothing, as if there was nothing but a freezing cold burning his hand. He couldn't kill them, but they could harm him.

It was an unfair fight that he could never have won.

Legolas saw the darkness enveloped his father, and for a moment, the whole world no longer existed to him. All he could see was the glimpse of golden hair flying in the wind like a glamouring banner. All he could hear was the sharp clanging of his father's sword clashing with the Nazgûls' blades. 

He wanted to rush back to Thranduil's aid, but was once again held back by the Ranger.

"He is trying to buy us time! We have to go!" Aragorn's shouting was so far away to Legolas that he barely registered what he was saying.

"No!!!"

"Legolas! Even if you go back, you cannot save him! Don't let him sacrifice in vain!"

And on the other side, Thranduil noticed Legolas's attempt and roared toward Aragorn, "take him and leave!"

And because of the momentary distraction, the Morgul-knife left a long, deep slash on the King's back, and Thranduil stumbled and yelped in pain. 

Legolas saw blood, and his fear converted to rage in an instance. He snapped at Aragorn and broke away from the Ranger's grip.

He looked into Aragorn's eyes and claimed with grave solemnity, "If he dies, I die with him. I will not live a second longer in a world without him!"

The resolution in those brightened eyes and the oath-like words bolted through Aragorn's chest like blazing lightning, and he was stunned by the burning passion in the Elf's eyes, which was too dazzling to stare. He had never seen Legolas like this: as if his soul was on fire and couldn't be quenched by anything except the King on the other end. 

He knew then that he couldn't stop Legolas. No one could have stopped Legolas from going back to his ada.

They were entangled.

Thranduil, on the other hand, determined not to let Legolas die with him. He rushed to the bridge entrance and cut the worn ropes holding the dilapidated suspension bridge to stop his son from coming back.

The bridge lost its last strand of support and falling down spontaneously, yet to both Aragorn and Thranduil's horrified surprise, Legolas sprinted toward the falling bridge nonetheless.

He'd done this before when fighting Bolg. He could do it again.

In everyone's ghastly gaze, Legolas ran along the falling bridge like a weightless wind, a thin leaf floating in the air. He ran so fast that for Orcs, he was but a green wind blasting over the abyss. When he reached the point that the bridge had fallen too low to continue, he jumped and surged up like an arrow and gripped at a protruding tree bough on the cliff.

Legolas had no time to think what an incredibly crazy thing he had just done. He bit his lips and swang himself up with all his might and climbed up to the top of the cliff with unrealistic speed. 

Thranduil was deadlocked with the strongest Nazgûl of the three, and he was in great distress, as he didn't know if Legolas was ok. Yet when another Nazgûl creeping up on him and was about to stab him on the back, an arrow rived through the coagulated air and deflected the blade. Thranduil's eyes widened as he saw Legolas strode toward him with burning conviction, his arrow flying in every direction, pushing off the surging tide of enemies.

His stupid, stupid son!

Once again, they stood together, back to back, facing the most notorious evil in this world. Thranduil growled, "why do you NEVER listen to me!!!"

Legolas retorted relentlessly, "because your order is foolish!"

How dare him?!

"Ada."Legolas's voice was low and raspy, quieter than usual, yet enriched with emotions that Thranduil could feel in his heart, "don't you dare to desert me ever again."

Chapter 45

Summary:

If we could not live together, then we shall die together.

Fighting alongside Thranduil was Legolas's dream. When he was an elfling, he used to hide in the secret window and watched his father in those shiny silver armours, rode tall and proud on that enormous elk, marching away with all his golden soldiers. He used to imagine himself riding beside his father, fighting off enemies who tried to harm his King, and being protected by the most beautiful being in his young eyes.

And now, dreams had come true, yet was in the worse circumstance. The power of the Nazgûl was immense, and each time his knives would shudder under the draining force of decadence. Fighting Nazgûl was way worse than fighting Orcs. It was like battling a tempest. Each of Legolas's attacks was like beating the air, vain and useless. The Morgul blades were dripping deadly poison, and they burned the two Elves' skin like acid, sifting into their blood and gnawed away their strength. 

Legolas knew that maybe this was it. Maybe today was the day he would die. At least, he could die with the love of his life.

He met Thranduil's eyes, and at the moment he saw no despair but a glimpse of unrestrained affection and nostalgia. The kind of gaze conveying too many yet all synchronized meaning, intimate as if a kind of confession needed no words. 

"You would be the death of me," Thranduil whispered into his ear that night in the training yard. And Legolas was not feeling sorry for the first time. If they could never be together alive, at least they could die together.

They were surrounded, exhausted, wounded. The poison was burning in their vein, and they couldn't sustain much longer.

As Thranduil rushed up to shield Legolas away from the strongest Nazgûl's attack, an arrow was flying toward the King's back soundlessly. Legolas had no time to think. Before he knew, he had plunged himself forward and feeling a sharp pang pierced his right back. The force pushed him forward and fell onto Thranduil's back, and the King only had time to catch him before he fell to the ground.

"No!" 

Blood was seeping out of Legolas's thin lips, stained his pale skin. He clutched at Thranduil's cloak and spoke in a low, desperate Sindarin, "I love you ada. I still love you."

"No no no no no don't you give up now!!! I do not allow!!!"

Something cold and wet fell on Legolas's forehead, and he wasn't sure what was it at first, until he raised his head with his last exerted effort and saw tears falling from Thranduil's eyes.

He had never seen his father cry in his whole life, except in those nightmares that Sauron showed him. But this was different, this was real, and it was for him.

"Don't cry..."Legolas wanted to wipe away those tears, but he couldn't move his arms. The poison had numbed his limbs, and he could sense death was marching toward him like night eating up the sky, like wind blowing out all the candles.

The King held his son tight in his arms, weeping quietly, kissing Legolas's forehead repeatedly. Their cloaks were spreading around them like broken, blood-stained wings. They no longer cared about anything around them, not even death. Nothing could have hurt them anymore, for the worst had already happened.

The Nazgûl once again raised his blade and was about to finish the Elven King.

Suddenly a sharp sonorous whistle echoed in the sky, and all the Nazgûls and Orcs froze in motion, then raised their heads simultaneously.

Giant, powerful shapes were sweeping across the canopy, shielding the sunlight and casting enormous shadows. The sound of wings stirring the wind induced fear among the Orcs, and even the Nazgûls were unsettled.

The Eagles!

But not only the eagles were here. A grey, tall figure emerged on the cliff, his stern, profound eyes filled with power and wisdom.

"Begone! You degenerated foul things!"

Gandalf's stentorian voice reverberated with magic powers, and the Nazgûls hissed in malice. As the Eagles slumped down toward the enemies, Gandalf wielded his staff toward the dispersed Orcs and tried to get to the dying father and son.

He received Thranduil's letters only half a month ago. Perplexed by the unnerving and alarming content in it, the Wizard did not delay and searched for their whereabout immediately. Gandalf could not understand how did Thranduil knew Legolas's condition and what he was doing at the time since the Prince had left Mirkwood for more than a decade, but what Thranduil predicted was true. Legolas's mind was seized by Sauron's mark once again when he was in Umbar with Aragorn, and Gandalf was too late when he got to the harbour.

Fortunately, the Great Eagles answered his supplication. Had he arrived one minute later, the last Elven King and his son would have fallen.

Or maybe he was already too late.

The powerful messengers of Manwë dived toward the foul creatures of darkness like sunlight pouring down to a festering trench. The Orcs were thrown down to the abyss like scattering rains, and even the Nazgûls were forced to retreat. Two great eagles descending toward the two bloody huddled golden figures, and each held one of them in their gentle claws.

Yet Legolas knew nothing of these, for his mind had fallen into a silent, dreamless void.

**********

Thranduil woke up in a sunlit room. The peaceful and pristine ray of Anor trickled through the thin, elegant window, sifting shivering shadows of tree branches and leaves on his cover.

His head was still dizzy from the Morgul Blade poison residual, and his back hurt like hell. He tried to sit up, the always regal features contorted in pain. 

He was wearing a thin and soft silk gown, and his wounds had been bandaged up and smelled of fresh herbs. The room was quiet, and through the window, he could see the familiar scenery of Imladris.

Were they saved?

He recalled the giant shadows of the Eagles, and...

And Legolas in his arms...

Where was Legolas?

Why was he not feeling Legolas's emotions? Why was it so quiet?

In panic, he flusteredly got out of the bed, ignoring the flaring pain on his back, and almost crashed into Lindir, who was just entering the room to check on him.

"My Lord! You are awake!" Exclaimed the dark-haired Elf.

"Yes, obviously. Where is my son?" 

"He is in the Temple of Estë. Lord Elrond is still trying to clear the poison from his wounds. My Lord! You shouldn't exert yourself! "

Thranduil went out of the room despite Lindir's dissuasion and staggered toward the Temple of Estë. He had a vague memory of its whereabouts but still almost got lost during the searching.

"Glad to see you recovered, my friend."

Thranduil's steps halted. He turned and saw Gandalf sitting on a stone bench, smoking his pipe quietly, merging into the surroundings.

Thranduil inclined his head, "you have my thanks, Mithrandir. We would have died if not for your help. But now I have to go to see my son."

"How did you know that the amulet was going to fail in Umbar?" The Wizard's questioned with a profound look. The deep blue eyes glistening cryptic lights.

Thranduil knew that he had to answer questions like this when he sent the letter to both Elrond and Gandalf, but he had no choice.

"I had my ways."

"What are you not telling me?" Gandalf squinted suspiciously, "as far as I know, you do not have a water mirror like Lady Galadriel does."

"I have no time for this now." Thranduil dismissed the question as nonchalantly as possible and prepared to leave. Gandalf's voice came from behind, "do not do reckless things, Thranduil. Tell me, did you find Feandir's Palantír?"

Thranduil's heart convulsed for a second, yet he maintained his dignified, calm mien, "What I have and how should I use it is not of your business, Wizard."

"You fool! The seeing stones are dangerous things! Sauron possesses the Stone of Minas Ithil. He could reach other stones through it, and he might have manipulated what you've seen in it and corrupted your mind without anyone knowing! You must not use it again!"

"The Palantíri were dangerous only when the wrong people used them, for they can only be controlled by Kings. In case you haven't noticed, I happen to be one. " Thranduil retorted sardonically while anger, regret and frustration burning in his eyes, "If not for it, my son has already died! Or worse, be captured by Sauron! Valar knows what he would have done to him! And it would have been my fault!"

"You must stop blaming yourself for the mark. Legolas knew what he was choosing, and he chose it because he loves you."

"You know nothing, Mithrandir." Thranduil sighed hollowly and turned to leave. This time he did not stop.

If only Gandalf knew what actually happened in Dol Guldur that night, if only he knew what kind of "love" his son and himself were having...

The Temple of Estë basked in the tranquil light of peacefulness as if the sunlight were cleansed and softened by the Goddess's power of healing. It stood in the middle of a silver lake with a long dock connected to the bank, and the waterfall behind it splashed water mist into the light, created a traversing bridge of rainbow. 

The King rushed into the healing chamber, where the healing stream filled a circular-shaped shallow pond, and his son was lying in the illuminated water. His face emerged from the water, eyes closed, golden strands floating like a blooming flower, thin silver fabrics of his gown rippling with the gentle streams. His skin was so pale that it was almost transparent, but the open wounds were closing, and he looked way better than when he was in Thranduil's arms. 

Thranduil rushed to the side of the pond, extended a hand to touch Legolas's wrist, and the steady pulse ringing under his finger gave him great relief. 

Legolas was alive. They both were.

Thank Valar!

"Lord Elrond has extracted most of the poison, and the amulet had been cleansed, too. Sauron shouldn't be able to pry into his dreams for now."

The suddenly interjected remark startled Thranduil, for all of his attention was on Legolas, and he didn't notice there were someone else in the room at all.

Aragorn was sitting on a bench near the healing pond. He had cleaned up himself and looked much more handsome and refined than when he was in the wilderness, yet a deep melancholy shadowed his resolute countenance.

Thranduil nodded, "I owe Lord Elrond a great one for his help. Did he say when Legolas will wake up? "

"Could be anytime from now, though could be longer than we expect. I think he may sleep longer, for he was too tired." 

"Yes...yes he should rest. "Thranduil muttered, unwilling to let go Legolas's hand. 

It was so close.

The image of Legolas lying in his arms, blood trickling out of his lips, and he looked at him with so much purest love and longing, and it hurt him worse than a thousand Morgul knives. 

"I love you ada. I still love you." Legolas confessed as if it was the last chance to say it. And Thranduil wanted to say it back, but he feared that if he said it, Legolas would give up and go to the Hall of Mandos.

Thranduil wasn't sure he could go to the same place as his son after he dies. He wasn't sure if Valar would accept his soul. Would they forgive his curse to them after he lost his father in the Last Alliance? Would they forgive his doubt in them after he lost his wife? Would they ever forgive a firstborn who committed incest?

He didn't know. 

"He loves you so much."

Aragorn's quiet voice disrupted his thought, and Thranduil sensed a weird air of knowing in the Ranger's tone.

No, it was impossible. No one knew, except for Haldir from Lothlorien.

"I've never known one can love another with such determination and devotion. I've never seen him like this. When he ran back to you, I thought I've lost him." Aragorn spoke with a heavy pensiveness and a hinge of envy, and he met the King's inquired eyes, "Maybe I've already lost him."

"He is well and alive. Why say such doleful words? "Thranduil frowned his lush brows, unsure how much did the Ranger know, "He likes you and cares about you greatly."

Aragorn's gaze gradually became more confronting: "Yet, I do not have his heart." 

Thranduil began to feel very exposed and uncomfortable. He rose up to face the Ranger, countenance turned cold and hard, "what are you trying to say?"

"I never understand why he is so devoted to you, even though you've neglected him for the most part of his life." Aragorn rose from the bench, too. His deep gray eyes gleaming in the ambient light.

Just how much did Legolas tell this man?!

Thranduil's gaze flared in anger, and though he was in a simple flimsy sleeping gown rather than his usual extravagant robes, his regal dignity was no less, "and you suppose you can love him better than me?"

Aragorn straightened his back, trying to appear taller, "I believe I can." 

"And for how long? Eighty years? A hundred?" Mocked the King relentlessly.

Aragorn was not planning on back off, though, "Sometimes, quality outweighs longevity."

If gaze could kill, Aragorn would have been shattered into pieces by the King's attack. Thranduil closed in on the Ranger, and his taller build cast a thick, threatening shadow on Aragorn, "don't get cheeky with me, young man. If your love is so pure and honourable as you said, then what are you worrying about? Between you and his father, who do you think Legolas will choose?"

Aragorn's face turned sallow, and all his confidence was trounced asunder.

They both knew the answer.

Yet, the Ranger's defeat did not bring satisfaction to the King. He shouldn't have been provoked so easily. Thranduil stepped back and turned away to calm himself from the pique.

What was he doing? Arguing with his son's lover about who did his son loved most? This was puerile and ridiculous...

Thranduil cleared his voice and said, "you do not need to worry. Legolas is happy with you, and that is something I could not give him."

"But he doesn't want happiness. He wants you." Rejoined Aragorn in a husky, almost painful voice.

Before Thranduil could react to the obscure remark, Lord Elrond entered the chamber, and they both fell into silence.

Elrond was surprised to find Thranduil was here. He frowned, "you shouldn't have to get up so soon, my friend. Your wounds were deep and need sufficient rest to heal properly."

"Thank you for saving my son."

"Don't mention it. " Elrond noticed the strain and weird atmosphere fermenting in the room and was bewildered, "is there something wrong? Did Estel offend you?"

"No, we were just...having a conversation." Thranduil glanced at Aragorn with a hinge of warning. Aragorn lowered his head.

Elrond sighed and said, "Elladan and Elrohir are looking for you, Estel. They haven't seen you for years. You may go talk to them."

"Yes, my Lord."

Aragorn fleed out of the Temple, and the pressure was building up in his chest, made him wanted to scream.

The moment he saw the arrow struck Legolas, his heart almost stopped completely. He was never so helpless and desperate before, and it felt worse than anything he had ever experienced.

All he could have done was to watch. He could do nothing...

He was a mere speculator who could never enter the intertwined tangle between Legolas and his father.

He used to thought he could accept and be content with it. As long as Legolas was with him, as long as they were happy together, he would not care whom Legolas's heart belonged to. He was willing to be the substitution. And if he was lucky, maybe one day Legolas would love him even more. Maybe he could even save Legolas from the abysmal sin.

For a while in the long years, he actually believed that he could be the Prince's salvation.

But after that day on the other side of the chasm, he knew that he was naive. Legolas would always choose Thranduil. Nothing, not even fate or rules or orders or Valar's rage could have stopped him.

Legolas would live with Aragorn, but he would die with his father.

How could Aragorn win then? When he was centries late? When he was but a powerless mortal?

How could he compete with the beautiful, powerful, proud and perfect Elven King?

And if he could never have the Prince's true love, would he really be content and satisfied? Wouldn't he desire to be loved in the same way that Legolas loves Thranduil? Wouldn't he wish to be seen as someone's one and only, too?

Notes:

My condolences poor Aragorn...

Chapter 46

Summary:

Everyone has to make choices.

For three days, Thranduil rarely left Legolas's side. When the wounds had closed completely, the King lifted his son from the healing well, dried his body and hair, dressed him in a comfortable sleeping gown, and then placed him gently onto the soft bed in the chamber next to his.

The only time he would leave would be when he had to rest for the night, or when he had to go to refresh himself, or when Aragorn was with Legolas. He was not avoiding the Ranger because of the remark that Aragorn made about how Legolas didn't want happiness but only wanted Thranduil; he simply showed some mercy to the troubled man. After all, no one can be at ease when their lover's father is in the room.

Though he did wonder, just how much did the Ranger know?

He refrained from looking into the seeing stone for a long time after witnessing the first kiss between Aragorn and Legolas, even when he sensed Legolas's distress for several days. He figured it could be just some trivial quarrels between lovers, and he had no stomach to inspect those flirting-like wrangles.

Did something happen during that period? Did Legolas tell him?

That was unlikely, for they both know how dangerous the secrete was. Haldir was already a latent risk. Legolas wouldn't be so reckless.

On the fourth day's afternoon, Legolas woke up in the magenta dusk light. He blinked his eyes torpidly, wasn't sure if he had reached the Hall of Mandos. Then he turned his head and saw Thranduil sitting in front of the window, perusing a letter that Galion sent from the Woodland Realm.  The translucent rosy twilight soaked into the King's marble-like skin, gilding a shimmering outline over his long hair and wine-red velvet gown. He looked ultramundane, breathtaking, and Legolas almost sure that they had both died and met in the afterlife.

Legolas didn't say anything for a long time and just looked. Thranduil frowned a little at the content of the letter, then dropped the paper to the table and reclined into the armchair, released a gentle sigh. Then his gaze shifted toward Legolas and startled when he noticed his son was watching him.

" Ion nîn!" Exclaimed Thranduil, swiftly coming to the side of the bed and put a hand over Legolas's forehead, then lifted his chin, "how do you feel? How long have you been awake? Why didn't you call me?"

"I feel...good." Legolas stared at him with wide eyes and asked coyly, "are we alive?"

Thranduil quirked a smile and then grasped his hand, gentle but firm, "yes, we are saved by Mithrandir and the Great Eagles. We are in Imladris now."

"And Aragorn?"

"He is safe, too."

Legolas exhaled half in relief, half in disbelief, and moved a hand to his own shoulder, "I thought I must be dead..."

Thranduil gazed deep into his son's irises and muttered, "I thought so, too. You foolish, willful, insubordinate child!"

Legolas looked down at his father's hand holding his own, and he moved the fingers subtly so that their fingers could intertwine with each other, "what am I supposed to do? Watching you die? You know I cannot survive that."

"You can."

"I cannot!"

"I've survived many times, so can you." Thranduil's voice was so tender and soft as if all the sternness was dissolved by the twilight, and a tinge of sadness was hovering behind his rarely seen warmth, "you have to learn to live for yourself, my son."

Legolas did not like one bit of the prophetic dolefulness in Thranduil's tone, so he retorted determinedly, "No."

"Legolas! Don't be childish!"

"I am not. I'm stating a fact." Legolas lowered his head, but his voice was unremitting, "You cannot ask me for such thing if you cannot watch me die."

Thranduil wasn't sure how to refute the statement. But now was not a good time for dispute, so he merely changed the topic, "do you want anything? Water? Food? I should inform Lord Elrond to check on you."

""Don't go!" Legolas clutched at his left hand, stopping him from leaving, "I don't need anything." I just need you...But Legolas didn't say it out loud.

"Ok." Thranduil sat back hesitantly, amused by Legolas's clinginess. It almost felt like back when his son was an Elfling, importuned him for another story or another song, and wouldn't let go of Thranduil's sleeve even after falling asleep. His wife used to jest about how she didn't even get to see him anymore, for he spent all his time with his son.

And the memory of his late wife brought an acute onslaught of guilt, bolting through his heart and shattered all the equanimity. 

Since the night in Dol Guldur, the guilt had been hunting him, and it grew tenfold stronger after that night in the training yard. Every time he was drawn by the Prince's ablaze affection and devotion, every time he wanted to give in, the guilt would intrude on his mind and destroy all hope and happiness. 

Sensing an unarticulated shift in the King's mood, Legolas let go of his hand reluctantly, "are you alright, ada?"

Thranduil  snapped out of the tumult in his head and tried to give a reassuring smile, though it was a little stiff, "why wouldn't I?"

"You have that 'I'm going to make some really bad decisions' look."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. That was exactly what you looked like before you decided not to follow us crossing the suspension bridge." That was also the same look he gave when he decided to let Legolas go and when he lied to Legolas about the lost months. But again, Legolas didn't point them out.

Thranduil sighed. He started to feel that he could never win another bicker with his refractory son, "I just remembered when you are little, you refused to let me go unless I tell you a story every night before bed, and I had to think of so many stories to tell you, in the end when my own resources were depleted, I even gave poor Galion an order to go to other lands and Kingdoms to search for more storybooks, so I won't run out of material."

Legolas laughed blithely, "you still remember?"

"Of course I remember how many headaches you caused me." Thranduil's countenance was radiating a rarely seen lighthearted tenderness, and it glowed on the edges of his lineament, hovering between his glistening eyes, the high ridge of his nose and the delicate, kissable lips.

For a moment, the insurmountable chasm between them was gone, and Legolas looked up into the brightest light of his heart, and nothing was stopping him from reaching out to him anymore.

So the Prince slowly, slowly drew nearer, afraid that if he moved too fast, the serenity of this moment would be broken, "I didn't really want the stories, I just wanted you to be with me a little longer because during the day you were always busy, and nana won't let me disturb you." 

The mention of the late Queen stiffened Thranduil, but he didn't let it show. Legolas gingerly inched closer, and there were staring into each other's eyes, breathing into each other's breath, and all the light and fragrance and serenity coagulated into amber, and they were forever preserved within.

Legolas leaned in, and Thranduil stared at his lips, those thin lips that he knew very well of their softness and sweetness. All he needed to do was slightly inclined his head, and then he could have what he had missed for a century.

Legolas closed his eyes as their lips were about to touch, but then, a soft shuffle sound and a kiss fell on his forehead, not on his lips.

Legolas opened his eyes, and the beautiful dream came to an end.

Of course. 

Why does he think things would be different after what happened on that cliff? 

Why was he so foolish, thinking that Thranduil saving his life somehow indicated an acceptance of his love?

Legolas observed the intangible change of the surroundings. The twilight was diminishing, and the soft, rosy ambiance was damping into a darker shade. All the glow precipitated into a cold, gloomy reality.

"Aragorn is a good man." Thranduil's voice was dry and distant, "he came every day to tend to you."

Legolas looked at somewhere on the ground and nodded quietly, "I should go to see him."

"Legolas, do not give up something precious for something you know you cannot have." Thranduil's gaze is also fixed on somewhere far away outside of the window, "he is a mortal, that is not ideal, but at least he is honorable, and he makes you happy. I...give you my blessing."

"He knows."

"What?"

"He knows about us. I told him."

Thranduil stood up and gaped at his son, "why did you do that?!"

"Because I trust him, and he has the right to know."

"Are you out of your mind? First Haldir, now Aragorn. Do you really want to destroy everything we have?!"

"He had to know that I cannot give him my heart. I cannot give him something I don't have anymore."Legolas muttered, "He loves me, but I am no good for him."

"Then you have to try harder!" Thranduil answered grimly, "don't throw away a chance to be happy for a nonviable obsession!"

"An obsession?" Legolas repeated in a plaintive tone while raising his eyes, his expression conflated self-deprecation and accusation, "yes, perhaps it is just an obsession which I've had all my life."

Thranduil could perceive the echo of the ache in Legolas's chest, but he had to put on an indifferent, distant pretense. They had come so far, he couldn't give in now.

Legolas nodded as if agreeing to some unarticulated voice, and he looked composed and detached, opposed to the dull pain that spreading in his heart and was synchronized in Thranduil's mind, "do not worry ada. I will not bring it up again. I was foolish."

They could die together, yet could never be together.

Thranduil used his iron will to repress all of the gushing emotions back down into the pit of his soul. He turned and left the room, unsure if he remembered to give a plausible excuse. 

And this time, Legolas did not try to stop him.

**********

Legolas sat silently in the room for a while, then he propped himself up and changed into a pair of breeches and a tunic, swiftly braided his long hair into the usual warrior style, then rambled out of the room.

All the Imladris Elves were very nice to him, eager to offer services. Soon he was informed that Aragorn was in the forest. 

The night had just arrived, and the new stars were scattering their oracular lights into the woods. Strands after strands of starlight weaved into a glistening net, waking up the nocturnal lives. Imladris' night was not dangerous. Instead, it was as beautiful and serene as the day, except much quieter. Fireflies hovering under tree leaves like a second layer of stars, liting up all the dark corners.

Legolas tried to put on a blithe expression to dissipate the sadness that assailed his heart. He wished to surprise Aragorn, and the thought of Aragorn's smile brought him consolation. 

Then he heard a singing echoing in the balmy night air, low and sonorous, like an ancient story.

It was Aragorn's voice. He'd heard him humming at times, and he loved his singing. It was different from most Elven singer's euphonious singing but was much deeper, richer, with the vestiges of time and the warmth of life.

Legolas followed the singing, and he came to a terrace plastered with a thick layer of fallen leaves. From here, he could see yonder, Aragorn was sitting on the edge of a fountain. 

However, Aragorn was not alone, and it was not hard to tell who the other svelte figure was.

Lady Arwen, the Evenstar.

She was absorbed in Aragorn's humming, and there was rippling light glistening in her endearing gray eyes as she staring at him in adoration. Fireflies swirling around them like swimming stars, encircling them into a small, tranquil world.

 It was a breathtaking scene. All the dancing starlight, the burble of the water, the hooting of an owl, the drifting fireflies...They were all unified backgrounds to set off the pair's perfection. 

They were like straight out of the tale of Beren and Lúthien.

Legolas just stood there and watched.

He'd never thought about how suitable Aragorn and Arwen were, for he had taken Aragorn's love and attention for granted. 

He had never considered the possibility that, unlike him, maybe Aragorn could shift his wholesome, pure, and yet unrequited love to someone else, someone...better than him, someone who could have loved the Ranger back.

Legolas's mind was devoid of any meaningful thought for a long while. The images entered his eyes but could not converge into a comprehensive idea. 

Until someone's footsteps disrupted the quietude.

"Ah! Prince Legolas! I didn't expect to see you here!"

Legolas turned around and saw Elladan, one of Lord Elrond's sons. He was of a similar age to Legolas, tall and handsome, with dark hair and rosy skin. The last time they'd seen each other was centuries ago when they were both still small and short. Elladan speculated Legolas in wonder, as though unsure how fast time had passed, and the wayward little Prince of yesterday now had grown to be a glamourous young warrior. 

Legolas was astonished to bump into the old-time rival as well. Elladan had become so tall and spruce, and there was no trace of that irreverent brattish Elfling in his memory. He put on a smile, "you've grown up."

"So do you!" Elladan beamed amiably, "I've heard that you were badly wounded. How are you?"

"I'm feeling better. Thank you for asking."

"You still look pale, though maybe you are always this pale." He chuckled, advanced closer, "Why are you here? Aren't you suppose to be resting? King Thranduil will be irked if he knows that we let you loitering around without a guard."

"Relax, I'm not some fragile cup."Legolas mildly jeered, "I just needed some fresh air and was trying to find Aragorn."

"Ah, yes, I've heard, you are the best friend of our little foster brother. But Aragorn has become so secretive since he left Imladris and acceded to the Chieftain. We barely knew anything about him in this recent decade." Elladan sighed as he laid eyes on the pair near the fountain, "they are such a lovely pair, don't you think?"

Legolas kept quiet, for he did not know how to answer it.

Elladan didn't heed the Prince's troubling silence and kept speaking, "My sister spent a lot of time with our young man these past days. After all these years of solitary, I would never have thought that she has eyes for Aragorn. Do you know if Aragorn has someone already? I don't want Arwen to get hurt."

Legolas swallowed and answered dryly, "that is not for me to tell. You should ask him yourself."

"Why so secretive?" Elladan laughed, "anyway, I come to find Aragorn. Do you want to come with me?"

Legolas lowered his eyes and stepped back, "no, it's ok. I'm a little tired. I think I will just go back and rest."

"Alright. I will see you around."

Legolas watched Elladan descended the stairs, and he receded into the shades of the leaves before the dark-haired Elf had the chance to inform Aragorn of his location. He knew that he should go back to his room, for Aragorn would surely go to find him, knowing that he was awake.

Doubt once again seized his disquieted heart.

If Aragorn had a chance of receiving a full, fervent love rather than the scraps he could provide...Wasn't it selfish if he kept clinging on the man for consolation?

Aragorn had given him everything. His love, his loyalty, his protection...What could he possibly give Aragorn in return? 

He had dragged Aragorn into dangerous situations because of the mark, and he caused trouble in the Rangers' group too...He was no good to the Ranger. He was no good to anyone.

He should have been alone.

Chapter 47

Summary:

Broken

The past several days were not easy for Aragorn. He couldn't find peace despite he was right beside the sleeping Prince, and the image of Legolas running toward the falling bridge without hesitation haunted him in his deepest dreams.

Every night he would jerk out of his dream in a cold sweat, panting heavily, unsure where he was and which day it was. And he would rush to Legolas's room to make sure that he was actually there, breathing and sleeping, and not lying coldly underground. 

The only consolation came, surprisingly, from Lady Arwen. It was the second day when they were brought back to Imladris, and both the King and the Prince were in precarious situations. Aragorn stood on the side of the healing well, watching the healers trying their best to work the spells, and he was suffocating. He dashed out of the Temple and ran into the woods, and he roared and screamed, letting out all the fear, frustration, anger, and sadness.

A light step came behind him, and a soft, gracile hand clasped on his shoulder, and it startled him. Aragorn sprang around and looked into a pair of deep, water-like gray eyes.

Lady Arwen inquired gingerly, "are you alright?"

Aragorn awkwardly straightened himself, trying to regain composure, "I'm sorry if my paroxysm startled you, my Lady."

Arwen scrutinized him with concentrated interest. Her soft, ethereal voice soothed him like a vernal breeze, "I can feel your sadness. It is heavy and profound. You should not repress it, for it will gnaw away your heart piece by piece."

"It is already gnawing at my soul. I'm afraid there is nothing I can do to stop it."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No..."

"Then I can still be your company." Arwen examined his handsome features closely, with a certain degree of curiosity, "If you would allow me."

Aragorn hesitated. He was drawn to the Lady the first time he had seen her in the woods three years ago, for her beauty was unparalleled. But he reproached himself for being tempted, as he had confessed his love to Legolas. Though Legolas had admitted that he couldn't give the same level of love back, true love should not have been easily distracted. 

Yet, at the moment, he did want some company to distract him from the pit of his mind. He accepted the offer.

They ambled in the woods for many long hours, and Arwen told him beautiful Lothlorien stories, ancient Elven tales, and funny trivial things that happened when she visited her grandma. She also sang a song for him, and in her misty voice, Aragorn's boiling mind finally quieted down, and the pain and doubt temporarily abated.

The next day, after checking up on Legolas in the Temple, he met with Arwen again. This time he told her things he saw and heard during the long peripatetic years, and she sang another song for him, lulling the tumult once again, giving him a short momentary peace.

Henceforth, they met every day at the twilight hours. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they just sat together, looking out into the tranquil valley and enjoying the pastel dusk light. 

Being with Legolas made him nervous, excited, and always on edge. Yet Arwen's presence calmed him, bringing him down to the earth, making him felt like in a peaceful dream.

On the day Thranduil woke up, Aragorn was lost. He wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. And Arwen finally asked, "What torments you, my friend? Tell me, and I will not tell anyone else."

Aragorn fidgeted for a few seconds and said, "It's about Legolas."

Arwen smiled, "I figured. But for what reason? "

"I love him." Aragorn paused and then finally admitted it to someone other than himself, and it somehow made it more real, "but his heart belongs to another."

Arwen gasped in surprise, and then a soft sorrow clouded her crystal eyes, "that is a shame. But why is he with you but not the one he loves?"

"His love is also unrequited."

"How unfortunate!" Arwen remarked with temperate compassion, "An Elf's heart is more stubborn than that of a man. They rarely change. Even if they do, it will take centuries..."

"I know. Or...I thought I know. In fact, I still had hope for him to give up the love and accept mine. But...It was merely my wishful thinking. " Aragorn gave her a wry smile, "and I am a mortal and cannot be with him for long. Two centries is a fleeting moment for an Elf, but it is my whole existence."

Arwen didn't say much, for she did not know how to alleviate such a complicated and tragic situation. Yet her gaze was so rich of sympathy and woe as if her heart was aching for him. She gently held his hand between her palms and uttered softly, "he is very lucky to have someone love him so."

Arwen's constant yet quiet accompany allayed Aragorn's pensiveness and melancholy, and sometimes, he wondered why she was so kind to him. She was powerful, noble, gorgeous, and wise beyond most Elves that he'd seen, and yet she deigned to provide him solace and asked nothing in return. 

If he hadn't met Legolas, he would surely have fallen in love with her. 

The day Legolas woke up, Aragorn did not have the heart to visit the Prince and the King. For every time his entrance was like an impertinent intrusion. The air between Thranduil and Legolas was always taut and searing like something was about to erupt, even when Legolas was in a deep sleep. And if before  Aragorn boggled how could someone fell in love with their father, now he had comprehended fully.

Legolas was so alike his father, yet so different. They were like two diverged fragments generated from the same soul, and when they were together, everything else became dull and prosaic.

Aragorn did not want to be something prosaic.

However, he was surprised when Elladan told him that Legolas was there not long ago. When did he awake? Why no one told him?

Aragorn hastened to the terrace Elladan pointed but found no trace of the Prince. He then scuttered toward the chamber where Legolas was resting and saw the slender figure sauntered in front of him, with all the fireflies swirling around.

"Legolas!"Aragorn exclaimed elatedly. 

Legolas's step halted. He turned around and beamed at the Ranger, his fair face glowing like the moon in the dark forest. Aragorn ran toward him exigently. Legolas yelped in surprise as Aragorn pulled him into a tight embrace abruptly. The strong beating of the Ranger's heart was fast in delight. 

The Ranger didn't say anything, just inhaling Legolas's smell like a starving traveller. The silence prolonging between them was not an awkward one. Instead, it was filled with intimacy and relief.

Legolas leaned his head on Aragorn's shoulder, and the familiar smell made him sigh in content.

Ere long, Aragorn said in a quiet voice, "the night is cold. We should go back."

"Ok."

"Did you eat anything yet?"

"I'm not hungry."

"How can you not be hungry? You haven't eaten anything for days. We will get you something on the way."

Legolas let Aragorn guided him back and maneuvered him to the bed. An Elf servant brought in food, scrumptious yet light enough for a newly healed patient to digest. Legolas ate as much as he could, not wanting to worry Aragorn.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" Asked the Ranger.

Legolas smiled and nodded, "do you?"

"You have to ask?" The Ranger gave him a lighthearted smirk.

Legolas shifted slightly on the bed to save enough space for Aragorn, but as the Ranger was about to sit, Legolas asked in an urgent voice, "you have bathed, right?"

"Of course!"

"Good."Grinned Legolas, "just to make sure."

Aragorn rolled his eyes as he laid next to Legolas, his frantic heart sedated from knowing that his lover was right next to him, very much alive. Legolas snuggled against him, leaned his head on the Ranger's chest, giving himself a moment of safety and peace that he knew he won't be able to keep for long.

"I'm sorry, Aragorn."

Aragorn raised one eyebrow, "for what?"

"For going back to him that day and leaving you alone on the other side." 

Aragorn was quiet for a long while. He pulled the Elf closer and imprinted a kiss on his hair, "I understand. He is your father."

"I wish that I only see him as my father..."Mumbled Legolas in a plaintive tone, "I wish I can stop..."

"You can. You just need more time."

"I don't know...Aragorn...I don't think I can ever stop."

Aragorn's body stiffened, and Legolas slowly sat up. Shadow veiled his countenance, "I've been trying for more than a decade. And nothing has changed."

"A decade is a short time for an Elf."

"Yes, but how many decades can a man has?"

Aragorn's heart paused. He straightened himself and grabbed Legolas's shoulder, forcing him to turn to face him, "what are you trying to say?"

"You are wasting your time with me, Aragorn." Legolas still refused to meet the Ranger's eyes, "I am hopeless."

"Are you pushing me away?"Aragorn's voice hardened noticeably.

Legolas recoiled a little, guilt pronouncing in his eyes, "I just...don't want you to feel obligated to me...Time is more precious to Man, and I don't want you to waste the best years of your life."

"What do I do with my time is my decision to make." Aragorn retorted sternly, "or is this just an excuse of getting rid of me?"

"What?! No!" Legolas hastened raised his head, "why would I do that?"

"Have I become the obstruction between you and the King?" Aragorn's gaze was intense and dark. A rarely seen anger flared and blazed, "do you want to return to him and...resume whatever you two had?"

"No! That's not the reason! I can never be with him, you know that!"

"Do I?" Aragorn scorned, "You've done it with him before, haven't you? Maybe you were thinking about him even when you were doing it with me. What's stopping you from resuming it? Since I can tell, he doesn't solely see you as his son as well."

The tinge of disgust underlying the reproachful query stung Legolas gravely. He'd thought that the Ranger accepted his dark side. How foolish he was. No one could have really accepted it, not even the most generous and open-minded person. 

Legolas's eyes stung with wetness. It hurt more when the disgust came from Aragorn, who had become the most important presence in his life other than Thranduil. But he refused to let the pain freeflow.

"I was merely trying to release you from the burden, so at least one of us can be happy." Legolas's hushed voice slightly trembled, "I know you are drawn to Lady Arwen. And she likes you, too."

"Arwen consoled me when I needed someone to talk to!" Aragorn snapped, unsure who had informed Legolas such things, "Do you know what does it feel like seeing the one you love chose to die with another than to live with you? Do you know how that particular moment kept haunting me in my dreams? Do you know how much pain do I feel when watching you lying in the healing well, pale as a ghost, and I couldn't do anything?! I was powerless, choiceless, could have done nothing but watching you die. and the moment you wake up, you tell me to be with someone else?!"

The suffering that emanated from Aragorn's voice, his mournful and peevish look, and his tensed gesture hit Legolas like a surging tide, and he was speechless and regretful. He exerted a shivered "I'm sorry" while Aragorn got out of the bed, strode out of the room and slammed the door. The loud sound made Legolas flinch.

On the following days, everyone was on edge. Thranduil was in some confidential meeting with Lord Elrond and Gandalf a lot of times, and when he visited Legolas, he was reserved and restrained from showing too much affection to his son, as if gingerly walking on a string over a precipice. Aragorn was avoiding Legolas as well, for he was definitely heartbroken by Legolas's suggestion that night. Legolas tried multiple times to apologize for it, yet there was always someone with Aragorn. Most of the time, that someone was Lady Arwen, and he couldn't find a private moment with Aragorn.

Legolas had been feeling like a lump was forming in his chest, and nothing could have attenuated it. He could not talk to anyone, could not find a solution for this plight. Even though he was in a safe haven among his kins, he felt lonely and guilty, and a seed of self-hatred had begun to burgeon in his thorny heart.

He began to have a nightmare again, though it was different from when his mind was completely seized by the Dark Lord. It was subtle, like a leech creeping up your leg, soundlessly attached its sucker onto your skin and draining your blood drip by drip.

He dreamed of being an elfling again, wandering in a dark forest, couldn't find his way, and no one answered his call for help. His father, his mother, Aragorn...None of them was there, and he was by himself, and this misty, elusive voice echoed among the monstrous trees.

"You do not deserve. You are useless."

And when he wake up from those dreams, he could not even remember them clearly, but the feeling of unworthy and hopeless lingered, like a poison slowly drenched his soul. He laid on the bed, wondering if it was easier if he did not wake up from the coma at all.

Thranduil somehow sensed his distress and inquired if he was having a dispute with Aragorn. Legolas denied it, for he did not want to complicate the matters. But Thranduil ventured to question the Ranger anyway.

"Forgive me, my lord, but you should go ask your son." Aragorn kept his decorum, but the acerbity in his tone was obvious. Thranduil was not amused, and his gaze glaciated, "I am asking YOU."

"If he does not want to tell you, whom am I to spoil it?"

"I warn you, Ranger. Legolas has just recovered. And if you break his heart..."

"I break his heart?!" Snapped the Ranger, daring to cut the King's sentence, "you do not have to worry about that, my Lord, for he is your son and thus possesses a cold and stony heart that would not break easily."

"What did you just say?!" The King's ire might as well materialized into burning flame behind him.

Arwen hastily came between the two parties at loggerheads and conciliated in her soothing voice, "my Lord, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding that will happen to any relationships. Give them time. They will sort it out."

Thranduil had to back off since Elrond's daughter was present, but the murderous stare he gave Aragorn before he left was enough to convey his threatening intentions. Aragorn scoffed, yet his heart was disquieted.

He knew that Thranduil could sense Legolas's mental distress due to the enhanced empathy spell, and it must be imperative enough for the King to talk to him directly.

"Maybe it is time for you to talk to him, Aragorn." Arwen gently touched his shoulder, and her doleful gaze ached his heart, for he could sense the tender affection that was growing in the Lady's heart.

The four of them were like running in a circle, and none of them could get what they want.

Unless one of them changed their mind...

**********

On the last day of Autumn, a troop of Mirkwood Elves arrived in Imladris. Feren, the Head of the King's Guards, received the King's order and come to escort Thranduil back to Woodland Realm.

Thranduil decided to depart three days later, and he informed Legolas during their dinner together.

Legolas paused and remarked with a simple "I see" after a while of silence.

"What is your plan after I leave?" Thranduil inquired with an even tone as he sipped from the goblet, "are you going back to Gondor with Aragorn?"

"...I...haven't thought about it."

"Gondor is too close to Mordor." Thranduil mulled over all kinds of unfortunate possibilities, "it would be safer if you two go back to Bree-land."

"Aragorn has his duties. I cannot speak for him."

"Haven't he talked to you yet?"

Legolas gave him a strained smile, "he was busy."

"Busy wooing Lady Arwen?" Thranduil scolded, "Men's hearts are labile, Legolas. You need to be careful. I do not want you to get hurt."

"I probably deserved it..." muttered Legolas.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." Legolas inhaled deeply.

So Thranduil was going to leave him again, and Aragorn...the chasm between them had existed from the very beginning. It could be too late to fix anything, even if it could be fixed.

Legolas felt lost, uncertain of his future. He had thought he found purpose by Aragorn's side, but now everything was collapsing.

Legolas decided to make one last attempt to talk to Aragorn during the Farewell Feast that Imladris held for Thranduil since everyone would be there, and most of the Elves would too drunk to interrupt them.

Legolas had made the decision. He would apologize to Aragorn for ever suggesting such a cruel thing and promise to try his best to bury his feeling for Thranduil. He would beg for forgiveness. Yes, he could have tried harder. He should have believed Aragorn's steadfastness and not to be swayed by Elladan's words. He could have happiness with the Ranger, and maybe...the sickness within his heart could be cured one day.

The Feast was grander than any previous ones held in the recent century, for it was rare to have a King visit the Vally. The Elves' beautiful music and singing could be heard even from Trollshaws, and the festive ambiance vibrated on everyone's elated expressions. 

Legolas waited patiently. He did not drink that night, for he needed a sober head to complete his mission. He looked for Aragorn yet did not find him among the celebrating crowds. 

The Ranger was there when the Feast began. Where did he go?

He then asked around, and a servant told him that she had seen Aragorn went to the chamber where the alter for Narsil stood. Legolas thanked her and headed to the said chamber, but as he was approaching, he could hear voices coming from it.

Legolas tightened his steps instinctively, making sure even an Elf could not have perceived his presence. 

He heard Arwen's voice.

"When do you prepare to leave?"

And then the Ranger's voice reciprocated, "maybe the day after tomorrow. I've delayed in here for too long."

Aragorn was leaving?

Why didn't he tell him?

"Are you not going to tell him?" Asked Arwen pensively.

The "him" in this sentence, Legolas surmised, was alluding to himself. His heartbeat raised speed as he waited for Aragorn's answer.

After a short moment of pause, the Ranger said, "maybe he will go back to Mirkwood with his father tomorrow anyway."

"All the more reason you should talk to him before you go on separate ways. Silence could be harmful. It will create misunderstanding and distance."

"...I do not know what could have been said between us. He cannot change, and...maybe he was right. Maybe we are not good for each other after all."

"..."

"It is painful to love someone who cannot love you back." Aragorn's voice was overloaded with melancholy and agony, "I don't know how much longer could I take it."

"Estel..."

"Thank you, my Lady. You have been very kind to me. I do not know how I can repay you."

"I do not require any repayment. What I did was from my heart. Will I see you again soon?"

"I am not sure where fate will lead me. But I do wish to see you again."

"Estel..."Arwen's voice hesitated, then she mustered up her courage and continued, "You said that it is painful to love someone who cannot love you back. I want you to know that I understand it, too."

Quietness prolonged and the water like starlight rippled with the wind.

"I do not deserve your good graces." Came Aragorn's raspy voice.

"You deserve all the best things the world can give." Arwen's voice was full of feelings, emotions and affections. 

And she was right.

Aragorn deserved better. 

Legolas saw the Ranger pulled the Lady into a tender embrace. And he felt like something in his chest shattered asunder. 

Maybe this was exactly how Aragorn felt when seeing him ran back toward Thranduil that day on the cliff.

He soundlessly turned around, walked all the way out of the palace, and staggered through the sinuous trails into the woods. There were Elves saluted to him, but he paid no attention. He wandered aimlessly for a while, eventually sat down on a bench near an oak tree.

He touched his cheek, found that it was wet. 

He wiped his eyes with his sleeves, but they just kept coming out. 

Why did it hurt so much? It was what he suggested in the first place, wasn't it?

It was for the best. Right?

He sat there, recalling all their times together in the past decade, from when he and Aragorn first met to this very moment. He remembered every fleeting second. He remembered the first time he gazed upon the Ranger's solemn, haggard but extremely handsome countenance; he remembers their first collaboration; the nights camping in the wilderness; the playful jeers and jokes they changed when pursuing Orcs; the time when Aragorn came back for him despite knowing that Orcs could have killed him, too; the night they snuggled in the crevice in the ground; their first kiss; their first confession; their first lovemaking...It was all alive and vivid as if just happened yesterday, and yet he had lost him.

He had lost the one who loved him dearly with his whole heart. And it was his fault.

The pain in his chest just kept increasing, and he wanted to scream. But when he opened his mouth, only pathetic choking sounds came out. 

"Legolas."

Legolas startled. He flustered to wipe clean his face before the tall figure could see his vulnerability. Though the redness in his eyes did not have time to subside. 

"Ada? Why are you here?" Legolas was trying his best not to let his voice quiver. He prayed that he sounded as calm and even as he hoped.

Thranduil stepped closer gingerly, as if afraid of disturbing something. He was in the regal attire that fitful for the stately Feast. The crown of red leaves and oak branches decorated his silky hair. Clearly, he just left the banquet for no other reason than to seek for his son.

"Legolas, what happened?"Thranduil's frowned worriedly.

Legolas appeared to be ok except for slightly redder eyes, but the King could still feel the overwhelming pain echoed in his own heart, making it hard to breathe. The level of distress he was feeling was close to the one he felt two decades ago when Legolas saw all the lost memories in the seeing stone.

His stubborn son still refused to show how broken he was. Legolas even managed to pull a smile, which was sadder than crying.

"Nothing happened, really. I was just...thinking."

"Thinking about what? Was it Aragorn?"

"Ada." Legolas cleared his throat, for his voice broke for a millisecond, "I was thinking...and I understand if you think it is not a good idea..."

"Legolas!" Thranduil interrupted his son's rambling, "just tell me."

Legolas inhaled and exhaled, then he asked in a voice quieter than a whisper, "can I come home?"

Notes:

I'm sorry Legolas...

Chapter 48

Summary:

Endless nothingness.

Notes:

Heavy angst warning~

"Can I come home?"

The question was uttered in such a tentative and self-deprecating way, as if Legolas was afraid of being rejected, as if he did not think he had the right to come home whenever he wanted. Thranduil didn't answer right away, and as the reticence prolonged, the anxiety and self-loathing commenced to take over the Elven Prince's mind.

What if Thranduil said no? Where would he go then?

He avoided the King's gaze, gaped at his own hand, waiting for the judgment.

The next moment Legolas was pulled into a firm yet gentle embrace. The King surrounded his arms around Legolas's head and shoulder, and the nostalgic smell of musk, oak and wine once again swamped him, like an endless sea of woods enclosed around a storm assaulted young tree. 

"You don't need to ask, ion nîn." Thranduil stood close to the seated Legolas, his usual stern and sublime voice now tinged with the softness of early moonlight and vernal drizzle. His hand powerful and warm, tenderly holding at the back of the younger Elf's head.

Legolas's tensed body relaxed notably, but he was still trying to holding back the bursting emotions thrashing and roaring in his lithe body. The sour feeling returned into his eyes and nose, threatening to leak out and to give away his devastation. He bit his lips, trying to suppress sadness with pain.

He had to remind himself over and over not to break down in front of his father. This was just an inevitable end. No matter how special and important Aragorn was to him, this was not the first time, probably won't be the last time. He was the Prince of the Woodland Realm, a warrior who had won many battles and even managed to survive Sauron's mental tortures. He should be able to handle this. 

Just hold on, do not break. He told himself.

"Thank you, ada." Legolas was surprised by how steady his voice sounded.

**********

The next day, Legolas stood behind Thranduil, waiting for Lord Elrond and his father to finish all the formalities. Aragorn was on the other side, his mystic gaze stuck with him all the time, unremitting to the extent that Legolas could almost feel it on his skin. On the other hand, Legolas avoided meeting the Ranger's eyes most of the time, for he did not know what kind of expression should he paint on his charade. 

Until Thranduil's murderous glare befell on the Ranger while he was addressing Arwen.

"Beware of what you wish for, young lady. Everything about a mortal is mortal, including their so-called devotion. It may belong to you today. Who knows how long can you keep it."

Arwen's eyes widened, face paled, while Lord Elrond and Gandalf both puzzled.

Legolas was startled by the King's harsh tone and hasten to step forward before it got worse and whispered, "My King, it is time. We should depart."

Then his eyes connected with the Ranger's unreadable stare.

Legolas couldn't understand the Ranger's expression. There was everything, and yet nothing at all at the same time. Legolas's decision to leave did not surprise him, though the reason behind it was interpreted from a completely different angle. Thranduil's remark infuriated him, but Aragorn rarely emoted his true feelings. All that was there to indicating his sentiment was the colder glower and a hidden trace of sadness on the corner of his mouth.

Thranduil gave Aragorn one final warning look, as if telling him to stay away from his son from now on, then he beckoned all his calvaries to mount and prepare to leave.

Legolas turned around and mounted his horse like the others, followed Thranduil marching toward the bridge marking the beginning and the end of Imladris. The guards from Mirkwood followed him, shielding away the incessant scrutiny of the Ranger.

Legolas didn't look back, albeit he wanted to.

The journey back to Mirkwood was drenched in silence. Legolas appeared to be calm and steady, showed no sign of despondency nor devastation, but was much more taciturn than his usual self. The reinforced empathy bond allowed Thranduil to see through his facade and to feel what was happening within the Prince's mind, and it was a kind of dull but persistent pain. The kind of hurt that wouldn't make you scream, but were like thousands of gnawing maggots eating away your organ morsel by morsel. The persistence of the ailment would slowly build up into something larger and darker.

The dull and hollow feeling also affected Thranduil, making him more fatigue and agitated than usual, experiencing more chaotic nightmares at nights, though maybe less acute than what his son was going through. The King could not envisage, hadn't he strengthened the spell, how much more pain would have been building up in Legolas' s forlorn heart. 

Thranduil was at a loss of how to provide solace, for he was usually the one who needed to be consoled from his past experiences. He didn't even constitute a good receiver of consolations since he merely shut everyone, including his own son, out for centuries. Nonetheless, the Elven King contrived to undertake the responsibility to alleviate Legolas's sorrow. It was something that had to be done. 

Lord Elrond and Gandalf suspect that though with the amulet's protection, Sauron could not directly seize Legolas's mind at this moment, his influence could still leach into Legolas's spirit imperceptibly, slowly poisoning his sanity, making him more vulnerable and susceptible to negative thoughts or emotions. Enough negative thoughts might eventually breach the protection of the amulet and give Sauron access once again.

The dark lord might not even need to invest time and effort on such a task, for the mark itself had built a sick connection between Legolas and Sauron. The stronger the Dark Lord was becoming, the more potent the connection would be. 

"You may need to consider limiting Legolas's knowledge on certain important matters if his mind deteriorates. For he may give out information to the enemies without even knowing it." Lord Elrond had suggested in one of their meetings, and Thranduil was so wroth that he had to storm out of the room before striking someone.

How dare them...

Legolas had born unimaginable pain without utter a single word to the Dark Lord, and now they were questioning his integrity?!

Even though they had saved Legolas's and his lives, they still had no right to suggest such things!

Thranduil's gloomy dispositions affected the whole precession's mood, and the guards were moving around gingerly and cautiously as if stepping on the point of knives, lest some inadvertent misconducts triggered the King's thunderous temper.

They encountered a small group of Orcs. Though it only took the Elves less than an hour to finish all of them, Thranduil did notice that Legolas's attack was more vicious and reckless, not even bothering to defend himself. Several times Orcs were sneaking up on him when he didn't slow down to check his surroundings, And if not Thranduil was paying sufficient attention for both of them, the Prince would have been injured. 

Later on that day, they camped near the Anduin River. Legolas left the camp to wash away the Orc blood that was spilled on him during the afternoon. Thranduil silently followed, finally decide to get the postdated talk over with.

He paused when he saw the slender figure hunkered near the water. The Prince had taken off his tunic and was cleaning his neck and chest with a dampened cloth. The great river glistened like a long silver ribbon dappled with countless diamond fragments, and the dreamy haze floating on Legolas's opalescent skin, shimmering on his long hair.

Thranduil's breath was caught in his throat, and he didn't realize that he wasn't breathing until it had become uncomfortable from lacking oxygen. He cursed himself inwardly and deliberately increased the volume of his tread, making himself known.

Legolas didn't notice, though, for he was deep in his own thought.

"If I am an Orc, you'd already dead." Thranduil frowned deeply.

Legolas glanced at him and snorted, "you are too grumpy for an Orc."

"Don't get cheeky with me." Thranduil stepped closer, looming over his son with an unimpressed expression, "you need to heed your surroundings, Legolas. We are not at home yet."

"I am vigilant about my surroundings."Legolas stood up, draping the tunic over his naked shoulder.

"If you call this vigilant, then I should have a serious conversation with your combat mentors. " Thranduil sighed and ventured to ask, "do you want to talk about it?"

Legolas raised one eyebrow, "talk about what?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You know what I mean."

"There is nothing to talk about. "

"You are grieving."

Legolas shrugged nonchalantly, "no one is dead. Why would I grieve?"

"Losing someone doesn't necessarily mean that someone is dead." 

Legolas examined Thranduil with an almost amused countenance, "isn't it a bit too late to practice the warm and understanding fathering skills?"

Thranduil growled in frustration. He knew Legolas was trying to use sarcasm to plaster over the hollowness in his heart. So he persevered with his task, "what exactly happened in Imladris?"

Though he had given Aragorn all the hell while leaving, the Ranger did not strike Thranduil as a fickle man. 

Legolas answered dismissively, "not much."

"Legolas, stop this pretentious nonsense. How can I help you if you refuse to confide in me?!"

Legolas laughed bitterly, and he gave Thranduil a sardonic and look, "Please, Ada, you are the last person who can help me."

The sharpness of the words stung the King, and his expression hardened, "What does that suppose to mean?"

Legolas regretted his momentary impulse to lash out at someone. His father was trying to help, to console his sorrow and loss, which was something he'd dreamt for centuries. He shouldn't have penalized Thranduil's attempt to care for him. Legolas composed himself, endeavored to regain the calmness that he was managed to maintain most of the journey, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. But really, it was nothing important, just an end of a...relation, no one died, no one got hurt. I will be fine soon."

Yes, Legolas believed that he did not have the right to indulge in sadness. Compared to what his father had experienced, compared to losing all the family members whom one dearly loved, the trivial pain he felt from a bad breakup was borderline preposterous. He shouldn't even have cried for it and gotten discovered by his father. It was weak and pathetic.

He ought to just move on, and everything would be fine.

**********

Except things weren't getting any better.

During the past decade, while wandering in the wilderness, sleeping in the mud and toiling in the wind, Legolas often wondered under what circumstance he would finally go home. Maybe he would have become a hero, or maybe he had found a cure for the disease in his heart...Yet now he was actually back, devoid of any glory nor reconciliation. He felt like a stranger.

The Wood Elves were thrilled about the returning of their Prince. They welcome the King and his son with their ethereal singing, throwing flowers in front of the hoofs of their horses. Legolas put on a dutiful smile, not wanting to disappoint his people's high spirits. 

Nonetheless, soon the servants and the guards began to notice the ineffable change of the Elven Prince's character. He was still diligent with his princely tasks, training the soldiers and guards with strict yet reasonable standards, patrolling the woods with garrisons, and debriefing reports sent from different sentries. He was still kind and amiable when Elves implored for his help and were still vicious when fighting encroaching Spiders or trespassing Orcs. 

Yet, Legolas had become more reticent and solitary. When he was not training or patroling or fighting intruders, no one knew where he was. It was as if he avoided other Elves intentionally, not wanting to have any unnecessary interactions with anyone.

Meanwhile, the dull pain that Thranduil felt from the empathy bond with his son had never alleviated. The persistence of the non-acute but suffocating blockage in his chest unsettled the King more than the occasional poignant feelings he had perceived from Legolas in the past decade, because he was familiar with that particular kind of emotion. The hollowness and the voidness that seemed to expend endlessly in one's heart were worse than those intense grieves, for they corrode one's spirit piece by piece, slowly killing the sufferer from inside.

And Legolas had been avoiding him. He barely saw him for the past month since they'd been back.

It was when Thranduil woke up from disturbing yet fastly escaping nightmares, he really started to panic. Those nightmares were unlike the ones when Sauron had Legolas's mind in his palm. They were less intense, more natural, and the King had a hard time remembering what had made him so sad during his sleep, but he knew this could be a boding sign of the amulet's failing or the mark's strengthening.

He searched for his son in the chamber, in the training yard, in the Prince's study, in the library...He was getting agitated and ordered the guards to find the Prince, even if it meant to turn the whole palace upside down. When Legolas returned to the Halls, he was bewildered by everyone's great relief as if their lives had just been spared.

"The King is looking for you, your highness!" Galion ushered him hastily toward Thranduil's study.

"Something happened? Orc invasion?"

"We do not know, but he was...very troubled. Please, Legolas, do mind your words and do not provoke him."

Legolas chuckled sarcastically, "Don't worry, I am always an obedient son, aren't I?"

Thranduil was in his study, eyes fixing on a missive, but was not really reading the letters. His thoughts had lost in apprehensions. When he had lost his wife, the same hollowness and an underlying fear of experiencing the loss again had seized his heart for almost three centuries, destroying his relationship with his son. He did not want the same poison to desolate Legolas's life.

"Ada." Legolas entered the room soundlessly, almost startled the King.

"Where have you been?" quarried Thranduil.

Legolas shrugged, "I fell asleep in the woods last night. What happened? Is there an intrusion?"

"Have the nightmares returned?"

Legolas stiffened for a second, "if you are asking about the ones inflicted by Sauron, no, I don't think so. "

"Our mind is more susceptible to negative thoughts or influences during our sleeping, for we have less defense. Even with your amulet, the noxious influence would seep in through the mark. You may think it is just a normal bad dream, but it may not be that simple. He could slowly infiltrate into your mind without you even knowing it, so I need you to drop your acting as if nothing is wrong." The King's tone gradually became harsh and commanding, and it induced a fit of anger in Legolas.

"So now you are worrying that I will become Sauron's spy?"

"You wrest my words."

"I am fine. Ada. Everyone has bad dreams. Also, how did you even know? "

Sometimes Legolas had this uncanny feeling that Thranduil could read his mind. 

"You are my son, of course I know you. And I know you are not alright." Thranduil retorted sternly, "you are alienating yourself from everyone. "

"Said by the King who secluded himself for three hundred years." Scuffed the Prince.

"Legolas!"

"I just want some peace," Legolas muttered in an exhausting voice, "can't you just let me have it? I am not neglecting my duties, aren't I?"

Thranduil knew then that Legolas was just as stubborn as himself and was not planning to admit the truth anytime soon.

As years passed, Legolas's situation never improved, and it was affecting Thranduil too. The Prince still performed his duties excellently in front of servants and guards, but he spent more and more hours in his chamber, feeling exhausted and unwilling to get out of the bed. Sometimes he just laid there, staring at some spot on the ceiling, unsure what thought had fleeting from his mind, unsure why he was so tired all the time.

And maybe Thranduil was right, his nightmares were getting more frequent than before. Though he couldn't remember those dreams, and he wasn't sure if they could have been called nightmares when they did not frighten him, but only left a kind of emptiness that would last hours after he was awake. 

He struggled to keep up the charade, not to cause any worry or problems, but most of the time, he just felt...pointless and numb.

There was no goal, no hope, no joy... He wondered if his heart had turned into a stone, unable to feel anything anymore.

But maybe that's for the best.

If he could not love and be beloved by the one he loves and could not love and be loved by others, it was better not to feel anything, not to get close with anyone. He would only bring danger and heartbreaking for anyone who'd gotten too close to him anyway.

Thranduil tried many times to talk to him, even went as far as trying to take him out for a hunting trip or introducing the sons and daughters of some Sindar Nobles to him to have some accompany. But he would always find a way to dismiss these efforts. He didn't understand why Thranduil was so worried about him all of a sudden. He was able to fend for himself most of the time of his life, so why now?

Legolas was sure he was doing ok. Even Galion thought he was merely becoming more mature and reserved than before, which was perfectly normal for his age.

Ere long, the dreams were becoming more frequent and prominent. Legolas started to remember them, but they still lacked exigency. In most of the dreams, Legolas just wondered in a dark place where there was nothing at all. No light, no wind, no living things. And all his company was a whispering voice at the back of his head, and the voice asked him questions that he couldn't answer.

"Why do you live?"

"What is your purpose?"

"What bond you to this world?"

"Who loves you?"

"Whom do you love?"

"Why are you so difficult?"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Are you worthy?"

And with each question echoed in his mind all day long, despair began to pullulate. It all happened slowly and gradually, with no sudden onset of episodes, no crying nor screaming, no triggering event. Legolas slowly sank into an intangible pitfall, feeling the air squeezed out of his body morsel by morsel.

It was becoming harder and harder to pick himself up from the bed every morning, but he held on, forcing himself to keep going, for he did not want to worry Thranduil. But it was just...bootless.

Until one night, he saw Sauron again.

The Dark Lord was the only thing that stood in the dark void, glowing like the brightest star. He was in his Annatar form, the fairest of all beings, though he could only resume it in dreams or hallucinations.

He felt...not evil, but almost divine. And he was the only one there.

"I see, you've finally come to me." Annatar grinned mesmerizingly.

Legolas froze in place by fear. Yet, rather than worrying about his life, the fear actually stemmed from a lack of repulsion toward the most deprived existence.

"I did not come for you." Legolas mustered up his courage and retorted.

"You have. Your depression, self-loathing, worthlessness...they had paved the road for you to come to me. Not even the funny little jewelry can shield you anymore. You've come by your own will."

"I did not wish to come to you!"

"Evey time when you question about the meaning of your life, when you wonder if you are worthy, when you feel angry and despair for no reason, or when you want to just sleep and never wake up, you are one step closer to me. For I am what you all believed me to be, the deepest nightmare, the ultimate destruction of the soul. The more hatred and despair one feels the closer one is to me than to Valar."

Legolas only laughed, wryly and dryly, "why do you even still want me? I am no use to you anymore. "

"You cannot see the future as I do, my child." Sauron sauntered toward him, his aura swirling around the Prince like many tendrils, "Isildur's heir's life was just a subsidiary prize, and my precious was still waiting in the dark, calling for me. "

"I do not know what do you want from me. I have nothing."

"Your faith is leading you toward my precious. I can sense it, smell it." Sauron actually inhaled the air around Legolas while his voice was trembling as if he was craving desperately for the "precious." And the way he pronounced that word made Legolas cringe.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Sauron quirked his lips, his hand grabbed Legolas's chin, and those long fingers were so hot that they burned his skin. 

"I do not wish to see you suffer, elfling. After all, I've known all your secrets and fear and have grown rather fond of you." The Dark Lord spoke in a pretentiously caring and sympathetic manner, as if he was truly sorry for hurting Legolas, "All I need you to do, for now, is to sworn loyalty to me and nothing else. As long as you pledge yourself to me, I will make all of these sufferings go away in a blink."

He snapped his fingers with the other hand, and suddenly, something drastic happened. It was as if something heavy, stifling and dense was lifted from Legolas, and the latter didn't even notice that it was always on his until it was gone. 

In a wink, all the darkness faded into light, and he was in the beautiful, tranquil realm of the Great Greenwood again. Sunshine gleamed on his face, fresh air filled his lung, and he was finally breathing and alive again. Legolas gasped in surprise, gaping at his own hands unbelievably. 

What just happened?

He felt...good?!

He hadn't felt good for so many years that he'd almost forgotten what feeling good meant.

It was like his blood began to rush in this veins, his thought was more clear and crisp, and he could breathe evenly without the dull, stuffy blockage in his chest.

But then Sauron opened his lips again, "or I can make it worse, way much worse."

And then, that ever had been lifted was slammed back down on Legolas with two-folded force. It felt like being crushed by the Misty Mountain. Legolas withered to the ground, struggling for breath, and at the very moment, he wanted to die.

It was too much. He couldn't take it.

He could handle pain, longing, fear, guilt...but this hollowness, this endless nothingness, it was worse than anything he'd experienced.

Sauron loomed over him like a giant glowing tower, his voice resonant in the vast emptiness, "so, what is your answer?"

Legolas clenched his teeth, his whole body shaking, yet he raised a pair of indomitable eyes and shouted with all his might, "crash me for all you like. I will never be a traitor!"

Chapter 49

Summary:

Surrender

Thranduil collapsed on the floor as he was struggling to breathe. For a while, he couldn't understand what was happening. He was just pouring himself a goblet of wine, then it happened. 

One moment he suddenly felt lifted, beatific even, and the next moment he was crushing to the ground as if a whole damn palace collapsed on him.

The dullness, emptiness, hopelessness, as if there were no more light in his world, only void, endless void. Nothing had any meaning. It felt like death.

Then he realized in horror that it was what Legolas was experiencing.

He tried his best to repress the suffocating sensation, straighten himself and hastened to Legolas's chamber. He knocked and heard no reply, so he forced the door open with a powerful kick on the latch, terrified the guards nearby. The room was deadly quiet, and Legolas did not stir.

"Legolas! Wake up!" Thranduil shook his son vigorously. His heart almost jumped out of his throat.

The amulet was still glittering on Legolas's chest. 

How did this happen? Shouldn't the amulet stop Sauron from entering Legolas's mind?

To his great relief, the astigmatic light converged in Legolas's azure irises, and the Prince blinked. 

"Legolas? Are you awake?"

Legolas blinked again, and he frowned, "yes. Why are you here? Something happened?"

Thranduil exhaled and sat on the bed, feeling cold sweat dampened his robe, "no, everything is fine. Are you ok?"

"I had a dream." Legolas answered calmly, yet his hollow gaze worried the King.

"What kind of dream?"

Legolas's hand closed around the amulet hanging from his neck, and he spoke slowly, quietly, "when Lord Elrond gave me this, he told me that it is only a temporary solution, that I may still have to fight him to some extent." 

Thranduil's heart sank. 

"Did you see him again?"

They both know what did the "him" stand for.

Legolas contemplated for a while, then said in a distant tone, "you were right, Ada. It seems like I can never escape him."

It almost seemed that Sauron's curse was the only thing that would last forever in his life. How morbidly ironic.

"Don't say that. We will find a way to fix this." Thranduil replied sternly, thoughts revolving, already planning what to do next. 

Then Legolas said timidly, "there is a way out for me, Ada. "

Thranduil's eyes widened, "what is it? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I haven't surrendered to him yet, but if I break, he would have my soul. I will be his slave and won't be able to die anymore after that. He was pulling me to him, and I don't know how long can I sustain. I do not want to be his slave...And...if I am failing, if he will win, I still have one last chance to save my soul...by giving up my life and going to the Hall of Mandos before I surrender."

Thranduil gaped at Legolas. He was so shocked as if couldn't believe what Legolas was implying, and the fear haunting on his countenance broke the Prince's heart.

"No," Thranduil exerted the word, voice taut and tremulous, losing all the sublime dignity.

Legolas's eyes were still so dull and hollow as if all the lights in his life had extinguished, "I know it will hurt you, ada. So I will try my best to hold on, to fight him. I just need you to know in case...in case I can't anymore."

"I will find allies, I will talk to Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond, and we will declare war on Mordor. I will kill him myself! Do not give up, Legolas!" Thranduil knew what he was saying was madness and could not be done, that it would cause thousands of Elves' lives. But what else could he do?

He could NOT lose Legolas!

Or...maybe he had one last possible leverage. 

It was a long shot, unlikely to succeed, but it was also his only shot for now.

"Ada..."Legolas ventured to raise his hand and carefully touched Thranduil's eyebrows, lingered on his high cheekbone with such sentiment and cordiality, "please don't do reckless things. I do not want to cause more pain to anyone. It is good enough for me to know that you care about me, even though not in the way I hoped. But I know what I wanted was wrong, and I'm sorry for bringing you so much pain after what you have been through."

Why was this becoming increasingly like a farewell? No, Legolas still had some fight in him. Thranduil could feel it, but...it was not much.

His son was waning away, gradually yet unstoppable.

The King pulled Legolas in his arms, holding him tight. He inhaled the refreshing smell of the Prince, closed his eyes and whispered, "you have to keep fighting, my son, do not give up. You are all I have left!"

"I know. I will try my best, I promise."Legolas was so drawn and tired, but he still tried to sound sure and believable. Even when he was at the end of his strength, he still wished to assure his father.

If not for Thranduil, he probably had given up a long time ago. This depression was too insurmountable. It stretched his soul to the extend that he would be torn apart. But he knew he had to hang on, for Thranduil had lost too much, and he didn't want to be another reason for the King to grieve.

However, he was just an Elf, after all.

**********
In the deepest, unpenetrable darkness under the Elven King's Halls, a lone light slowly descended, disrupting the stillness of the hidden dungeon. Thranduil hadn't seen Feandir since their last conversation a century ago. Now, he almost couldn't recognize him as his light revealed the prisoner's face. 

The corrupted Elf sorcerer was so pale to the extent that the skin almost looked translucent. His raven tresses had grown too long, spreading on the ground like intertwined vines. He was even more skinny than before, albeit the few guards who knew about his existence had been delivering food on time dutifully. 

He was sleeping and was awaked by the lamplight in Thranduil's hand. He squinted his eyes, took a while to recognize the Elven King's face. For a long moment, he just stared as if unsure whom he was gazing upon.

"My King." Grinned the Elf, still deviant, yet something was lacking. Something had gone from those mischievous dark eyes and rendered the Dark Lord's spawn dull and broken.

Thranduil observed him quietly for some minutes, then put a wrapped object in front of the cage, where Feandir could reach.

Feandir hesitantly extended his hand, unsure of the King's intention, but his words were still full of malic and sardonicism, "A gift? My King, you are too kind."

The fabrics were lifted, and the Palantíri was revealed.

Feandir gaped at it and then looked up confusingly.

Thranduil commanded, "summon your master."

Feandir blinked, then he broke into laughter, "are you out of your mind?"

"Summon, your, master," Thranduil repeated, slower and more intimidating.

Feandir's laugh died down, and a tinge of sadness pervaded his veneer, "he won't answer my calling. He had stopped answering a long time ago."

"Then you better pray he answers this time, because if he doesn't, I will make you pay." Thranduil hissed, and his hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

It was a desperate gamble. Although Sauron was completely corrupted and was probably incapable of showing affection to anything, Feandir was his son. If there was any chance to threaten Sauron with a hostage, this was the best shot. But he knew how small his chance was. He had Feandir for more than a century, and Sauron had never made any attempt to get his probably only son back as if he had forgotten Feandir's very existence.

For Valar sake, even Azog had the heart to rescue Bolg.

Feandir retorted, "you cannot kill me. I bear the mark of Sauron, too. And unlike your son, I have surrendered to him. My soul is fully bound to him, so no one can kill me except him, not even myself."

"But I can still make you suffer, can't I?" Thranduil hardened his pressure on the sword, "if I cut off your head and keep your head and body in separate cells, I don't suppose you can grow out a new head and new body, can you?"

Feandir shivered. 

No, he could not grow out a new head nor a body. He won't die either.

He won't be able to move and would be alive in that...horrible state, forever.

Thranduil watched Feandir hastily crawled toward the seeing stone. His shaking bony hand hovering over the ominous light swirling within the dark crystal. He licked his lips nervously, then ventured to call, "my master, I am your most humble servant. Please answer me."

Nothing happened.

"Try again!" Thranduil ordered harshly, "beg him if you must!"

And Feandir did. He seemed as desperate as Thranduil was, for he still had a mite of hope that maybe his mater, his father, hadn't abandoned him. He tried and tried. The pleading in his voice crescendoed. Yet there was still nothing. 

Thranduil's patience was wearing thin, and with a sharp reverberating sound of clanging, he unsheathed the long, silver sword. The thin edge pressed against Feandir's neck, and a strand of blood oozed out of the broken skin.

"Show yourself, Sauron! Or I will behead your son right now!"

Suddenly the seeing stone flared, and the faint swimming light burst within the crystal's depth, forming a giant eye of flame. In a millisecond, the temperature rose drastically, and an unarticulated dreadfulness filled the cave, corroding every drop of air, scorching with fetid malevolent.

An ineffable fear, which stemmed from the innate reflex of self-preservation, took hold of Thranduil's vicissitudes-hammered heart. But he put on an intrepid mien, stared right back at the blazing evil eye.

He was going to bargain with the greatest evil in this world. He had to be fearless.

"Release your hold on my son, and I will return your son."

A horrible laugh echoed in his mind. The raspy voice scratched his very nerve, inducing a sharp pain under his skull.

"The King who let everyone he loves die." Sauron mocked ruthlessly, "you had your chance to save him. You could have just given in and been happy with him. And now it is too late."

"Release him! " Thranduil roared, and his blade sank deeper into Feandir's pallid skin. More blood tricked down, and the vibration of Feandir's fast pulse spread to the King's hand.

Feandir stared at the evil eye within the seeing stone, eyes gushed with soundless pleading.

"And why would I do that?" Sauron chuckled amusingly, "your son is way much more useful than my son."

Feandir's eyes widened for a moment, then the last gleam of light was smothered, died out. He stared at his father, suddenly became very still.

Thranduil gritted his teeth, "and you are just going to let your son suffer? Even Goblins have some love for their offspring. You are worse than Orcs!"

"I am not the one going to torture him. Just as I am not the one who pushed your son to this living pit of suffering. Why do you think he is so unhappy? Who is the reason that he cannot have a normal life? Who was the reason that he was bond with me in the first place?"

Thranduil's charade began to falling apart. He lowered his head, supplicated quietly, "You can mark me instead. Or name anything you want for exchange. Just...set Legolas free."

The horrendous laughter once again filled the King's mind, and then the voice hissed, "if it was a century ago, maybe I will. But now, there is nothing you can do to save him from me. He is mine. Your Kingdom, your people and yourself will also be mine, soon. "

Then the eye disappeared, and the stone was left dull and dormant once again.

No one spoke for a while, then Thranduil removed the sword from Feandir's throat and turned away. The former bard couldn't see his shadow-veiled face.

Then with a sharp clang, the cage's lock was cut into two by the King's sword.

"Leave, and never come back."

Feandir blinked, unsure of whether what he heard was his hallucination.

"Go before I change my mind." Thranduil's voice was low, calm but with an impression of despondency.

Feandir touched the shallow cut on his throat, "you are not going to torture me?"

"What's the point of that?" Thranduil sheathed his sword, scuffed bitterly, "your master has deserted you. Think of it as a second chance. "

Thranduil turned to leave. Feandir tentatively stepped out of the cage, noticing the engraved incantations were also broken by the King's one fluid yet powerful swing. His magic was slowly waking up in his vein, triggering a tingling feeling crawling under his skin.

He was...free...

After a century's confinement, he was finally free and surprisingly in one piece.

What would he do then? Should he attack the King and keep contriving to be the loyal, perfect son of his master, who had left him here to rot?

Who, despite all his desperate efforts to please, to satisfy, had deemed him worthless.

Who had never loved him, not even a second?

A century might not have been a very long time for an immortal Elf, but it gave him time to think, to relive his whole life. An without the Dark Lord's constant influence, there were certain moments of clarities.

And Feandir thought about his mother, about how she died. 

"There may be a way to save your son." Feandir blurted out.

Thranduil's steps halted immediately. He turned around, eyes blazing.

"What did you say?"

Feandir stood in the darkness, haggard and hollow, but his eyes were burning with another kind of light.

Revenge.

"I've had the mark since I reached my majority, and there was a time when he deemed I did not finish the tasks he gave me, he would punish me in the same way he is punishing your son. And there was one time he went too far. I think he actually wanted to finish me in my dream."

Feandir paused for a while, slightly shivering from the recall of the distant memory, "but my mother saved me. She found a way to enter my dream while he was holding me in it. Although she failed to break the mark, I was managed to escape my supposed ineluctable death that time, and for three years after it, my master wasn't able to re-enter my mind. Not that he needed to. I was enprisoned in his dungeon of Dol Guldur after my mother died, so he could still punish me physically for my mother's disobedience."

Thranduil descended the stairs again, drawing near to Feandir, "what is the method? Tell me!"

"Before I tell you, you should know this is very dangerous, for my mother didn't make it out alive." Feandir's voice was strained in painful recollection, "you see, when your son was trapped in Sauron's hold, it was still happening in his own mind. He was just overpowered, lost control. But...you can wake him within his mind and help him expel Sauron. It is easier said than done. You will face Sauron's wrath yourself, and he will tear your soul apart if your son cannot find the strength to expel him in time...just like I couldn't save my mother. In fact, if not for the pain of watching her soul shattered into dust was too grave, I might have never been able to find the strength to expel him, and I had never succeeded again hitherto."

Thranduil pondered the information Feandir disclosed, "you are saying this is still not a permanent solution, and I am not likely to survive it."

"There is no permanent solution unless he is somehow destroyed... Which is not going to happen any time soon. And I guess your son is at the end of his tenacity? Otherwise you won't be so desperate that you even tried to bargain with the Dark Lord."

"Why are you helping me? How do I know if you are telling the truth? "Thranduil interrogated with an incredulous squint.

"I'm helping you because I understand your son's sorrow. But he is luckier than I am, for at least you actually care about him, while my father treated me like a dispensable slave. " Feandir gave out a broken smile, "he hurt me badly, made me fear him, and then made sure he was also the only source where I could get scraps of affection, of attention and reconciliation, and I don't even have the courage to avenge my mother anymore."

Thranduil scrutinized him carefully, trying to find any vestiges of malicious or duplicity, yet all he found was a broken soul that had suffered too much, way beyond the point of reparability.

This was an Elf who could no longer enter the undying land, could not be accepted by any of his kins and had been abandoned by his father and tormentor. He had no place in this world, yet he couldn't even choose to leave it.

And if Thranduil couldn't find a way to save Legolas soon, this would also be his son's fate.

"I will do it." Decided Thranduil.

Feandir noded. A bursting light of retaliation gleaming in his irises, "Sauron feeds on all the pain and suffering, so before you proceed, try your best to attenuate whatever is tormenting your son. It will slightly increase the chance of your survival. But remember...your death will be...very painful. And I don't know if you can still go to the Hall of Mandos if your soul is scattered everywhere...Are you sure you still want to do it?"

Thranduil inhaled deeply, shakingly, but his gaze was still steadfast, unwavering, "yes, I will do it."

**********

Legolas just finished a patrol near the Palace with other soldiers. He told everyone to go back first while he lingered in the uninfected woods a little longer. 

Tauriel was rather hesitant, for she noticed Legolas's change since he'd back from the decade long of traveling outside of Mirkwood. Though Legolas appeared to be unchanged to most of the other Elves, she knew him better.

He had been avoiding her or any of their old acquaintances and isolating himself.

"My Lord, do you want me to stay with you? The spiders are getting bold nowadays. It may not be as safe as before."

Legolas quirked a smile at her, "And you think I cannot handle a few spiders?"

"I'm sure you are fully capable of eliminating a whole pack of Orcs all by yourself, but I'm just wondering if you wish for some accompany?"

Legolas chuckled, "I'm fine, Tauriel. You do not need to worry about me. "

Tauriel sighed and left with a pensive mood. 

The Prince perambulated among the familiar oaks. This part of the forest was his favorite, for the trees were old but amiable, mantled with thick and dark green leaves, and the moss on the ground was soft and flossy like the finest carpet. He'd climbed every single tree when he was younger, listened to their whispers during the serene nights, and fell into sweet, fanciful dreams. Sadly, he could no longer enjoy dreams anymore.

His fingers scudded across the coarse barks, saying his farewell to them, enjoying the peace while he still could. Every night could be the last night for him from now on, and he wanted to have as much courage and peace as he could before he started another fight for the losing war against Sauron.

Steps as lithesome as wind drew near, and then a sonorous voice called him, "Legolas."

Legolas turned around and beamed at his father, "ada."

Thranduil was in a sublime silver robe, and as he walked by, fallen crimson leaves scattered on his pale golden hair and wide shoulders, as if admiring his majesty. After so many years, the Elven King was still the most beautiful being Legolas had ever seen, and no matter how many times he'd gazed upon his father, his heart would still flutter like the first time when he realized that he loved Thranduil in a way a son shouldn't have.

"Tauriel told me you are here." Remarked Thranduil as he stepped on those soft mosses, "how do you feel today?"

"There was no trace of spider invasion nor new sign of infesting."

"I'm not asking about your patrol. I'm asking about you."

"Oh. I'm ok."

"Listen." Thranduil hesitated a little before ventured to say, "I've heard that Aragorn is on his way to visit Lothlorien."

The mention of the name stung a little, but Legolas didn't show much expression change, "and?"

"And maybe we can invite him to stop here for a visit."

Legolas frowned, "why? Do you need him to pass on any message to Lord Elrond?"

"No...I just thought you two had never had a chance to have closure about what happened. "

Legolas snorted as he turned around, walking away, "no. We have had our closure."

"Legolas! You need him. You need more strength for the fighting!"

"And you think he can bring me strength?"

"Well yes. He makes you happy."

Legolas rolled his eyes in exasperation as he turned to face the King, "ada, sometimes you are amazingly slow, you know that?"

Thranduil squinted his eyes in displease, "mind your town when you are addressing me, Legolas. I'm still your father and your King."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. But rest assured, there is no need to invite Aragorn. "

"But why? You had been grieving for him for years! And you bottled everything up, refusing to let me help!"

"I did grieve for him for a while. But then it was not about him anymore." Legolas shrugged nonchalantly, "I guess I was just...don't want to experience that kind of feelings anymore."

Thranduil stepped closer, "then tell me! There must be something you want!"

Legolas wanted to tell him yes, there was something he wanted and he could never get, and that something was the very reason that he couldn't love anyone else, that he had to be alone. But he couldn't.

He could not force Thranduil to love him just because he was trying to save his son.

So he put on a reassuring smile, for he had been practicing such task for many years now. He was good at pretending to be ok.

"I am fine, Ada. It was all because of the mark, and there is nothing anyone can do about it. I have to fight this by myself."

"But you are losing."

"Thanks for the encouragement." Legolas rolled his eyes again, trying to lighten the air a little, "but I have survived these many years. It is not hopeless ada."

It was a lie.

He had exhausted all the helps he could get, and Sauron still found him.

But he had learned not to think too much of the future.

He just hoped...had he failed, Thranduil could survive it.

Thranduil stared at his stubborn son, who was still pretending that he had everything under control. The moment of vulnerability he saw yesterday when Legolas just woke from the nightmare was gone as if it was all Thranduil's imagination.
 
And it infuriated the King.

"Do you really wish to die this much?!" Thranduil growled, closing in on his son with an intimidating aura emanated from his gesture, "Is there nothing left that is worthy enough for you to hold on to?! "

Legolas was baffled by the King's sudden burst of temper and felt a little bit intimidated. He backed off as the King advanced until his back hit the trunk of a tree.

"Ada, what's gotten into you? I'm trying my best!"

And now Thranduil was looming over him, his heavy shadow inundated him like an overwhelming tide. Thranduil trapped Legolas between his tower-like body and the tree, and he looked down into those startled, nervous, but still pellucid eyes.

And then it suddenly dawned on Thranduil that his resistance to his own desire was no longer valid.

He rejected his son because he didn't want to ruin Legolas's life, but what if there would be no life left to ruin?

What if he would die tonight in Legolas's dream, and even his soul would be scattered into nothingness, then what was he even afraid of?

It was their last chance to be together, to be happy for once in their lives without fearing the consequences.

Thranduil raised his son's chin, his thumb gently rub against the soft lips, and his gaze darkened.

Legolas's breath hitched. His eyes widened like an exposed deer. He licked his lips nervously, yet longingly, "what...what are you doing?"

"Remember you asked me to kiss you that night, and I didn't?" Thranduil leaned in, his breath falling on Legolas's lashes, "I am going to kiss you now, my love."

Legolas was dumbfounded, wasn't sure if this was also a dream. He parted his lips, gazed at the King tremulously, couldn't utter a single word.

And then he moaned in ineffable exhilaration as the King lowered his head and devoured the Prince's lips.

Chapter 50

Summary:

"I love you."

Legolas's mind was floating in a whirlpool of emotions that he felt dizzy and out of breath. He was pinned on the tree trunk by his father. His lips were licked, kissed, sucked and bit, and his tongue was being teased and twined. His breath was sucked out, and something was burning within his chest.

What was going on? Was Thranduil actually kissing him?

It couldn't be true. He had begged Thranduil so many times. He tried various ways to seduce his father, to procure this forbidden love, and he always failed. After all these years, after the losses and pain and anger and despondency, he had finally given up any hope. And now, Thranduil was kissing him?

"Wait..."Legolas whimpered and began to struggle, pushing hard at the broad chest. Thranduil let go of him, looking down into his eyes befuddled.

"Why are you kissing me?" Legolas asked dubiously. He was slightly out of breath, and a delicious crimson was suffusing on his cheeks. Though the crimson was not all from excitement, but was also from rising anger following a quick revelation, "Is this your way of trying to give me what I want?"

Thranduil frowned confusingly, "you don't want this?"

"Of course I want it! But not from pity, not from self-sacrificing!" Legolas was so frustrated and angry that his voice was shaking, "Are you pitying me because you know I may not make it? Are you trying to give me some...reconciliation before I die? You can be really cruel, Ada. I might have begged you before, but I am not that pathetic anymore! "

Legolas pushed Thranduil hard, letting out his agony and frustration. Tears were filling the Prince's eyes, but he was trying so hard not to let them fall. 

Thranduil gaped at him, heart aching from the empathy bond. But he refused to back up. Instead, he snatched Legolas's wrist, hissed in a low, husky voice, "who said I did it out of pity?"

"Then what is it? Surely you cannot just suddenly decide to love me as a lover now!"

"I did not suddenly decide to love you." Thranduil admitted quietly, but just as Legolas's heart sinking, the King continued, "I have always wanted you, desired you, ever since that night in Dol Guldur...You have no idea how many times I wanted to kiss you like this, to pin you down, and just make you mine..."

Legolas's eyes widened.

And Thranduil was not finished. His voice was coated with the erotic scent of musk, and his body emitting an intoxicating aura of dominance. He went on whispering into Legolas's sensitive ear, "When you were with Haldir, with the Dwarf Prince, even with Aragorn...You were killing me with jealousy. Valar knows how much I wanted to cut off their hands, for they dared to touch what is mine. You have no idea how many times I fancied to lock you down in the dungeons, take away your freedom and keep you there all for myself, and no one will ever take you away from me again."

The thick and heavy darkness filling the King's sizzling voice was so intimidating that it was enough to make any being trembling in fear, but Legolas was completely mesmerized and baffled. His knees almost gave up, his skin blushed, and his throat tingled. He felt like standing right in the center of a raging hurricane, yet his heart fluttered like containing a thousand butterflies. 

This was insane!

"I don't understand...then why..."

"No more questions." interrupted the King. His long fingers stroked through Legolas's hair, and his sensual lips parted slightly, asking the question, "just tell me. Do you want my love, or not?"

Legolas swallowed, feeling fire blazing beneath his skin, and his mind hazy from unbelievable bliss. He said, "yes. Yes I want you. I've never stopped wanting you!"

The next moment Thranduil pinned Legolas back to the ancient Oak, seized his lips into another breath-taking kiss. They both had kissed many others, and many of those occasions were elated and erotic, but none of those kisses could compete with this. It was like finding the missing part of a puzzle, like going home after a long, arduous journey. 

Then Thranduil's kiss commenced moving downward, extending to Legolas's neck, sucking and biting, leaving ruby-colored marks. His kiss was not gentle in any sense but was fueled with full-embodied desire and repressed lust. Some of the bite marks were almost blood drawing. But Legolas loved it, savored the feeling of being completely devoured and dominated. He raised his head and exposed his neck, eagerly offering more. 

Thranduil tore off Legolas's belt, then his hand slipped into the Prince's tunic, roaming over the smooth, soft skin, tracing the long, lean line of the muscles. Legolas moaned at the feeling, shaking with barely contained craving. Suddenly Thranduil tore open his tunic relentlessly, exposing his opalescent chest. 

Legolas had the body of a warrior. Though slender and lithe, the clear and fluid lines of the muscles carved into Legolas's flawless skin, storing imponderable strength and power.

It was not the first time Thranduil saw Legolas's body, but this time he could actually slow down to admire it, enjoying the perfectness that was half created from his own image. Meanwhile, his hand moved across the tautened lower abdomen and slipped passing the edge of the Prince's pants.

Legolas gasped as he felt Thranduil's hand closed around his cock. It was already semi-hard, and the mere thought that his father was touching his cock was enough to send him to a full-capacitated erection.

"So eager." Thranduil chuckled, making the Prince even more embarrassed that he had to bit back a whimper. The King stroked the long shaft with dexterous fingers, massaging the balls until he could feel sticky pre-cum leaking out of the head of Legolas's cock, then he smirched the slimy substance on his index finger and ventured even lower, teasing and pressing around the squirming entrance.

Legolas was a little jumpy and nervous. The last time he did this with his father was a century ago, and he had thought it would be the last one he could ever have. 

Thranduil murmured in his ear, "take off your pants."

Legolas obeyed with shaking hands while watching Thranduil languidly untied his robe and unfastened his breeches. The King's cock was as majestic as his personality, and it was so huge that Legolas wondered how he even took that thing all in before...The Prince stared, biting his lips, half intimidated but also immensely excited. 

"Shh, I got you." Thranduil nibbled at his earlobe, then suddenly he was lifted up by the King's powerful arm. His naked legs were dangling from the King's arms, and his whole body was supported by the tree trunk's friction on his back and Thranduil's tight hold on his butt. Legolas yelped in surprise, hand clutching at the tree trunk behind him.

The King's finger probed into him without warning, digging into the hot, damp tunnel, pressing and twisting around. Legolas managed to hold back his whimper, struggling to even his breath. 

"We don't have lube here, so this is going to hurt a little." Thranduil licked his lips and asked, "do you want me to stop?"

"No! " Legolas was trying to appear cool and composed, though not very successful, "In case you've forgotten, neither times of our fucks happened in a bedroom, so for Valar sake just get on with it already!"

On retrospective reflection, Thranduil realized Legolas was right. Before this time they made love twice, and both were in unusual situations...

He got to fix it later...

"Not a suitable occasion to mention the sacred name, my love." Thranduil grinned, added in the second finger, scissoring and stretching, feeling the delicious wetness shrouding from every direction. He worked patiently, holding back the scarcely containable pressuring building up in his lower abdomen to make sure Legolas was fully stretched and loosened. 

"Please ada!" Legolas begged piteously, "I...I want you!"

Thranduil couldn't wait any longer as well, so he withdrew his fingers and pressed the head of his angrily erected cock on the squirming hole. As the head popped in, Legolas's body jolted at the acute sensation. 

Thranduil didn't pause for him to get used to it. He kept on pushing, inch by inch, ploughing across the stretched tunnel, opening the Prince up with relentless determination. Legolas clutched at the tree trunk behind him pell-mell, and a series of broken sounds came out of his throat as he exerting himself to take in the whole thing.

"It's so big..." Exclaimed the overwhelmed Prince as the King shoved the last few inches in, drilling into the deepest place of Legolas's body.

Thranduil groaned from the ecstatic sensation, "you've had me before."

"It has been more than a hundred years, and I didn't even have anyone for the recent five years!"

"Do you want me to pull out then?"

"No! "

"Such a willful Prince. Hard to please." Remarked the King while he pulled out halfway then thrust back in full-force, impaling the slander body to the tree with his cock. Legolas let out a shrill. His tunnel contracted spasmodically as if trying to suck the invading member even deeper. 

Thranduil began to pond into Legolas's feverish body mercilessly. Legolas couldn't contain his moaning anymore, and his whimper and crying and moaning encouraged the King to go faster, harder, deeper. It felt so good that if not Thranduil had impressive self-control, he wouldn't have been able to last long. 

But Thranduil did not plan to end this belated reunion too soon. After a long while of fucking he laid Legolas down on the soft, mossy ground and entered him again from behind. Legolas raised his hips high in the air, welcoming every thrust with the hot, wet, reddened entrance. The sound of flesh clashing with each other mixed with their heavy panting, hungry moaning and occasional begging, disrupting the tranquility of the woods.

Legolas used to thought among all the lovers he had ever had, Thorin had the longest stamina, but now he knew that he was wrong. His ada was totally winning if this was a friggin competition. They've changed three different positions, and Legolas came hard not long after the third one, on his side, while Thranduil gave him a hard push. His cum stained his belly and spreading on the grass and mosses like spilled milk.

He hadn't come so hard in ages that even his ears were ringing. However, that was not the end. Thranduil hit the sensitive spot deep inside him repeatedly, and by their fifth position, his cock was revived and all hardened and elated once more. 

"Oh Valar, you are going to kill me!" Legolas wept uncontrollably as the fire building up, pushing him toward another culmination. Now he was laying facing up again, one leg on the King's shoulder, shivering helplessly. 

Thranduil kissed him long and deep, their golden hair tangled, fingers interlaced. He sighed hoarsely, "I will not kill you. I will save you, I promise."

Legolas came the second time with an exalted cry, his body convulsed in extreme pleasure. This time Thranduil came at the same time. With a low rumbling roar, he ejaculated deep inside Legolas, hot flux rushing and overflowing. He collapsed on top of his son. Both of them panted hard and drawn, head dizzy. 

Ere long, Thranduil started to pull out his softened cock, and Legolas groaned in as he felt the King's cum gushing out from his sore hole, which was too stretched to close right away. Legolas's face was burning red in embarrassment. 

Thranduil gently wiped away the perspiration from Legolas's forehead, leaving another long, amorous kiss on the red, swollen lips. He gazed at his exhausted, disheveled, but breathtakingly beautiful son beneath him, watching him with those scintillating eyes.

How did he wait so long? How could he even reject any beseeching emanated from such a pair of eyes? Why did he choose fear over having this with his love?

All those years, all the possibilities, wasted by his guilt and cowardice. And Legolas was paying the price.

Legolas felt utterly spent, but he was so content and happy, for he finally found his way back to his ada after so many years of wandering and estrangement. 

He did not know what was happening in the King's mind, but Thranduil's stare made him even more embarrassed.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" Legolas muttered, eyes shifting toward everywhere except his father.

"I miss you." Admitted Thranduil, "I didn't even know how much I've been missing you."

The way Thranduil said it made Legolas shivered in joy. The desire, the longing, the impulses...they were all unmasked and vividly commingled with deep affection. 

Could this be real? When he thought he'd reached the end of his perseverance, his dream came true just like this?

But...why?

Good things rarely happen for no reason...

An unsettling disquietness crept into Legolas's mind. He inquired, "Then...why did you reject me, over and over again?"

Thranduil closed his eyes for a brief moment as if trying to contain the surging waves of emotions, "because I felt guilty. "

"Guilty of what? I started this whole thing. It was I who went to Dol Guldur recklessly despite your warning. I am the one who sinfully loved you first, even way before the night in Dol Guldur."

"I have wronged you, Legolas, in many different ways." Thranduil laid next to Legolas on the mossy ground, and the dusk sun was so benign and warm, making everything brighter and calmer, "I neglected you when you needed a father. I criticized you to push you away, making you doubt yourself and contrived to gain my approval. I was afraid that if I love you, one day fate will take you away from me just like it had taken away my mother, my father and your mother. But while I thought I was making you hate me, I mistakenly made you obsessed with me. And when you grew up, when you reached majority and started to explore the world of pleasure...I thought you might have gotten confused and mixed up obsession with attraction."

Legolas frowned, anger flared, "so you still doubt my love? You still think it was just some...fixation?"

"I know you love me with everything you have." Thranduil turned his head to look into the Prince's eyes, "you love me more than life."

"Yes, I do."

"I was just afraid that I...inadvertently guided you onto this road of adversities. I didn't want you to suffer for my mistakes and be rejected by our kins and Valar. Yet...I only made you suffer more by ignoring what we have."

Thranduil had never been this open with him. His ada was always sublime and composed and cold and distant...but now he was lying there, drawn from the incredible sex they just had, pale blonde hair spreading, heavy robes crumpled around his perfect marble-statue-like body. His voice sounded almost...vulnerable. His elegant features were drenched with regret and pain, making anyone beholding such an expression wished to do anything to console him.

Legolas's heart fluttered. He snuggled closer, laying his head on the King's chest, listening to Thranduil's heart beating thunderously, "I don't care how the love started, I don't care what will happen to us, and I don't care how long do we have ada. All I know is that I love you. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine, too."

Thranduil's fingers combed through Legolas's long hair, and he answered with determination, "Then you shall have me."

**********
Legolas was in the best dream he could ever have, because this could not be real, could it? 

His ada confessed love to him, made love to him, and now they were kissing inextricably again while standing in the waist-deep spring near a fall. 

"I thought we are supposed to get ourselves cleaned up." Remarked Legolas distractedly as he raised his head, allowing his father to kiss the side of his neck. Their naked lower body griding with each other, and some quenched fire was rekindled yet again.

Thranduil inhaled deeply of his son's smell, unwilling to let go of the delicious body, "yes, we should REALLY stop."

"What time is it now? Is it dinner time? Galion will be looking for us..." Continued Legolas as Thranduil turned him around, pressing him against the giant and slippering rock protruding from the water. The water's coldness couldn't even bring down the two bodies' searing fever. Legolas groaned shamelessly, legs shaking in the swirling torrents.

Thranduil nibbled at the smooth shoulder, "it's already passed the dinner hour. I'm sure he is becoming very agitated by now."

"We should go back."

"Yes, we should."

Two hours later, they finally managed to make it back to the palace. Legolas followed his King with slightly tottered steps, for he could barely stand straight after a whole afternoon's debauchery. Thranduil appeared to be as majestic and august as usual, nodding to the nobles salutations, and dismissed Galion's inquiry of their whereabout effortlessly. They had dinner together in a peculiarly decorous and upright manner since servants were watching. Galion was overjoyed to see Legolas ate more, oblivious of the reason behind the suddenly returned appetite. 

At the end of the dinner, Thranduil leaned toward Legolas and quickly whispered, "come to my chamber tonight." Then he stood up with his sublime expression, left the dining room like nothing had happened. 

Legolas waited and waited until most of the servants retired and the palace fell into serenity. He ventured out of his room and moved in superb stealth, criticizing how unalarmed the guards that he had trained was on his way, and disappeared soundlessly behind the King's chamber.

After yet another round of sybaritic entertainment, Legolas snuggled against the King's warm body, while a sense of dreadfulness began to bubble up.

Sensing the distraught from his son, Thranduil threw his arm around the Prince's waist, pulling him closer.

"I don't want to sleep." Legolas murmured in a scared, trembling voice. He sounded fragile, so broken, that it finally corresponded to the feeling Thranduil sensed through their empathy bond.

Legolas had never shown this side of himself to anyone before. He always tried to appear to be courageous, strong and proud, and not even Aragorn had seen how scared he was.

"I will be with you, all the time." Thranduil kissed on his hair.

"I don't know if I will wake up."

"You will. I promise you will." Thranduil lifted Legolas's face, staring into his soul, "you will come back to me, for I love you more than life, too. And you will not leave me heartbroken."

Legolas gaped at his father, tears welling up, trickling down his cheek. He nodded with renewed courage, "yes. I will do everything to come back to you. I will fight him."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

They clutched at each other in the dark, waiting for an ineluctable doom. Until finally, Legolas's mind began to drift, his breath becoming long and soft. He was slowly claimed by another evil and powerful force.

Thranduil waited for a while, then he reached underneath his pillow and took out a scroll. 

Feandir left it to him, which contained the spell that would send him into Legolas's dream. The empathy bond between them would make it easier to achieve.

Thranduil left one more kiss on Legolas's lips. He savored the feeling, for this could very likely be the last night he would have in this world. 

How he wished that he could have more time with Legolas, how he regretted not kissing Legolas a decade earlier. All those fears, hesitations, guilt...in the end, nothing really mattered. 

Thranduil closed his eyes and whispered quietly, "forgive me...my love."

Notes:

After a long period of asceticism here we go, hope you enjoyed this chapter XD

Chapter 51

Summary:

The King tries to save his lover from the Dark Lord

The scroll Feandir left was written in an ancient Quenya dialect. Most of the Elves in Mirkwood would not be able to read it, but luckily Thranduil had mastered Quenya a long time ago, even though he did not encourage his people to learn the Ñoldor Elves' "redundant" language. Reading through the lines, he was mildly impressed by how intricate and complicated the spell was. The power flowing between the movement of his teeth and tongue was very potent, though implicated various precarious possibilities.

Thranduil did not use magic much, but he had learned the fundamental knowledge of the art when he was younger, for his father Oropher used to worry that the Ñoldor Elves would have advantages over them if they did not understand their "tricks."Therefore, despite the delicacy and complexity of the spell recorded in the scroll, it only took him three times to get it right. 

Entering some other's dream was not as Thranduil imagined. He thought he would have felt drowsy and somnolent first and fell asleep then wake up in Legolas's dream. But the reality was more simple and abrupt. The moment Thranduil finished the spell, he was already in the dream. 

He was perfectly lucid and had this weird, uncanny feeling as if his very existence was less solid. But he could still sense his own body, feeling the gravity pulling him down to the ground.

If there was ground at all.

There was...nothing.

He was standing in the middle of not-very-still darkness. It was like when you close your eye in a dark room, and if you stare closely at the darkness behind your eyelid, you can see endless colors. Those colors usually churn around in a rapid and evasive manner, escaping from your grasp whenever you try to focus on them. 

And that was the kind of void surrounding Thranduil, very confusing and repressive. Immediately the King could sense the distress transmitted through the empathy bond magnified, as if lave were filling up his rib cage, searing all of his organs. 

Where was Legolas?

He dared not to call out loud, afraid of exposing himself before the most opportune moment. Opportunities would be scarce, so he had to act cogitatively.

Thranduil followed the sound. Soon blurry shapes began to emerge from the void. There were like mist or miasma but more substantial and thick, humongous yet capricious, full of ominous malice, like the ancient demons' flickering shadows. Thranduil extended his hand tentatively to feel those shapes, and before his fingertip connected to the unknown substance, a fit of poignant rushing emotions hit him like a lightning bolt, knocked out his breath.

It was hatred, self-directed hatred. Thranduil knew it well, for it had been his lifelong "friend" since he watched his mother been slain in Doriath. 

These shapes were all the manifested negative emotions that Sauron had channeled into Legolas's mind through the mark, amplifying all the seeds that had already been burgeoning in the young Elf's heart, intensifying them ten-folded through years of imperceptible infiltration. And many of those seeds were probably planted by Thranduil himself.

As he traversed across the serpentine passages among these mountains, he could hear voices and see fragmentary images. 

"Am I good enough?"

"Am I worthy?"

"Do I deserve to be loved?"

"Was it real?"

"Do I matter?"

Thousands of questions echoed in his mind, and they were all in Legolas's voices. 

He saw a distant memory from when Legolas was about sixty years old. Although as a Prince, Legolas could have had many privileges, Thranduil decided to train him the same way as other warriors so that adversities could chasten him to be stronger. Legolas was still very thin and gracile at the time, a bit too delicate for his age, and he was among the youngest ones in that training camp. During the first several years of training, the Prince struggled a lot and couldn't keep up with the rigorous routines that would have exhausted a regular warrior. And Thranduil remembered after observing one of those combat training, he was not pleased seeing Legolas being tossed around like a doll and couldn't even overpower the youngest trainee (though slightly bigger in stature than Legolas) in his group, so he reproached his son for "being a whiny mess" in front of all his companions, fulminating him for besmirching the name of his family, and not worthy of the title of a Prince.

Thranduil never thought much about that particular incident, but apparently, it had left an indelible impression on Legolas's mind. He saw his son limped back to his tent with wounds, bruises and a shaken expression, closed the flap so no one could see how hurt he was. He just sat on the bunk with clenching teeth and clutching fists, colorless face contorted by shame, humiliation, self-hatred and doubt, lips trembling, yet no tear ever fell.

"I am worthless, useless." That was the voice kept reverberating in the air, "no wonder he doesn't love me anymore. I should have tried harder."

"If I try harder, then maybe he will forgive me."

"If I try harder, if I'm good enough, then he will love me again."

From that day, Legolas trained himself harshly even after the routine sessions. He would sacrifice his sleeping time and practice Archery and combat skills. He would run in the woods for hours in the rain or jumping and climbing among the trees to practice his agility instead of eating or resting. He abused his own body brutally so that he could be the worthy son, and whenever he fell in the mud and couldn't get back on his feet no matter how hard he tried, he would tell himself the same thing over and over again: you have to be better, you have to be worthy.

And eventually, Legolas successfully changed himself from a delicate adolescent to a strong, agile, skillful, and deadly warrior in less than three years, and even Thranduil was impressed by his rapid improvement. Yet the doubt and fear of being useless, of being rejected, persevered hitherto, never had left his mind hundreds of years later, until now.

Numerous similar incidents swamped the whole place, like invisible scars imprinted on the Prince's subconscious. Though Legolas appeared to be proud and confident to others, these scars were still lurking underneath the perfect veneer.

And the most ironic part was, Thranduil didn't even remember many of them. He didn't even realize how cruel his words or his indifferences were to his son.

Through the past several years, Sauron's power had torn open each and every single scar and let them bleed, and not even Legolas himself knew the damage was slowly done to him as he gradually slipping into a dark and hopeless pit of depression. Legolas's will to live had been severely weakened, and unless Thranduil could find a way to miraculously heal his son in the shortest amount of time, there was no chance Legolas had the power to expel the Dark Lord.

He kept on walking, trying his best to control the crescendo magnitude of anguish which both generated from the empathy bond and his revelation of the real harm he'd done when he was indulging in self-pity and grieve. 

Finally, he saw Legolas kneeling in the middle of the gushing darkness like a star was about to be enveloped by clouds. In front of him stood a stunning being. Long golden hair and fair speckless skin, illuminating like the silver moon. He looked like an Elf but was beyond Elf, yet beneath the divinity facade, Thranduil could see something sinister, corrupted and profoundly wrong flickered through the gaps of his whirling energy... 

Sauron...

Even if just a fragment of the Dark Lord's incarnation, the oppression, resentment and horror that characterized his very existence was still overwhelmingly intimidating. Thranduil knew Sauron hadn't shown his true form and the full capacity of his power. He needed help.

Thranduil hid behind a lump of dark clouds and began to chant in a quiet voice. He could only hope that Feandir hadn't changed his mind on this matter and would answer to his summoning...

"Do you actually believe what your father told you? That he loves you in the way that you dream? Don't you think the timing of it was a bit too providential? "Sauron circled Legolas like a predator, yet he smiled so sweetly. 

Legolas's voice trembled a little, "I know what game are you playing. I won't believe you."

"Oh but you know it in your heart. If he truly has loved you so, then why did he resist you with all his power? Why he'd rather let you go than admitting loving you? " 

Legolas refused to answer, but Sauron was right.

He was doubting...

He wanted to believe Thranduil was telling the truth, that he had always wanted him, too. He wanted it so much that he refused to consider other possibilities.

But a small voice in his heart had been telling him repeatedly that this was not real. Thranduil was just trying to save his son. His ada had lost almost everyone he ever cared, and Legolas was the last one. He'd done anything to keep his son alive, including making some sacrifice, including lying.

Good things rarely happen, and if they happen, there must be a catch somewhere.

And if that was the truth...then what had he done?

He gave his father no other choice than to sacrifice...because Legolas was too weak. Because he was a burden to anyone around him.

No...

Legolas shuddered. His breath hitched in his throat. The darkness surrounded him rippled and pulsed, pressing closer, inch by inch.

Sauron enjoyed this little game of theirs. It was beyond entertaining to watch the young Elf who hadn't seen the horror his master and he used to bring to this world, who was raised up like an over-sheltered flower and had no idea what true evil was, shattered in his palm and slowly fell to his regime. The pure heart corrupted by doubt and despair, the scintillate eyes turning dull and hollow. 

He would have this Elf's soul soon, then he would have his body as well. After his "training", Legolas would be as subservient and meek as a kitten on his lap. Then he would send Legolas back, unscathed, beautiful and fierce as always. No one, not even Olórin (Gandalf), would be wary of such an endearing creature. They would never see him coming.

Legolas would lead him to the One Ring. He was sure of it, for as one of the most powerful Maia, he could sense the threads of destiny weaved around them. 

"See, you have come to your own conclusion. Congratulations, young Elf, you managed to achieve something that even I couldn't make your father do. You are more skillful than me, it would seem."

Legolas covered his ears. His youthful face painted heavy colors of all sorts of tumult and painful emotions and finally paused on guilt and self-despise. Legolas felt so dirty and unworthy at that moment that he just wanted it all to stop, "I'm not...I didn't mean it! I didn't know..."

Sauron quirked a smile, for he knew the Prince had fallen into his trap. Just a little more push and Legolas would be his.

"I know you are thinking about giving up your life, but have you thought about what will that do to your beloved ada? How much more sorrow are you going to bring him? Will you have him grieve you for another thousand years? Or would you have him fade from a broken heart?" 

Legolas shook his head vigorously, but he didn't know what to say and what to do. He was running out of options.

Sauron lowered his body and whispered into the Prince's right ear, "you can make all this madness stop, and I'm the only one who will help you."

"Do not listen to him."

Sauron paused, and his eyes slightly widened in surprise as he turned to look at the speaker.

Feandir stood not very far from them, a staff in hand, long hair spreading on the ground, pale like a ghost, and countenance cold as ice. He gazed at his father, his master, with all the remaining zealotry in his cursed life. Yet what beamed in his eyes were no longer reverence nor twisted love, but accusation and sadness.

"He will not help you but enslave you, alienate you from everyone and everything that you love, and make himself the only source of your torment and comfort. Then when you are no longer useful to him, he will abandon you like a piece of trash, letting you rot in the darkest pit for centuries. "

"My son. " Sauron turned toward Feandir with a half-smile, "what a pleasant surprise."

Feandir stepped back, "Legolas, do not believe what he told you. They are all lies!"

"My own son has turned on me. How heartbreaking!" Sauron's smile grew colder, darker, and he also seemed taller than before as he loitering toward Feandir, "have you forgotten your place, my dear?"

"Have you forgotten my mother, father?" Sneered the singer, "My mother, who loved you with her whole heart, who you killed with your bare hand, do you even remember her name?"

"If I have to memorize every single servant's name, then I would have no time to do anything else, silly child. Now, I understand your frustration, and I am busy, so I will give you one more chance to save yourself from being annihilated. Get out of my sight." Sauron waved his hand dismissively and was about to turn back to Legolas, suddenly a bolt of fire burst out from the top of Feandir's staff, dashing toward the Dark Lord in roaring rage. 

The firebolt cracked and spattered in unstoppable power and momentum, but just as it was about to engulf Sauron, the Dark Lord flipped his wrist, and the bolt dissipated into countless falling embers like an extinguished firework. 

Wroth inflamed in Sauron's eyes. He was suddenly as tall as a majestic tower, and the divine halo dimed and transmuted into the hellish fire, silver robes hardened into indestructable armors, covering him from head to toe, with the spiny crown pointing to the empty canopy.

The glamorous charade of Annatar was gone, and the Dark Lord's true shape revealed.

"You crave for Death, foolish child. Then I will give it to you."

Sauron raised the giant mace high, then smashed it down to his rebellious servant. Feandir staggered away and was trying to run in another direction. Sauron followed, not registering another figure was approaching his prey soundlessly.

"Legolas! "

Legolas jolted and looked up, finding Thranduil gazing down at him. He blinked and then looked at Sauron on the other side.

Was Sauron playing a trick with him again? It was not the first time that he disguised himself as Thranduil in this torture chamber. 

"It's me, ion. We have to hide!" Thranduil pulled Legolas up and dragged the bewildered Prince behind a rising mountain of dark thoughts. He knew Feandir wouldn't be able to hold the Dark Lord's attention for long, so he had to act quickly. 

"Ada? Are you...are you really here? " Legolas stammered.

"Yes, Legolas. I am in your dream. "

"But...how is this possible?"

"It doesn't matter. Son, we don't have much time. I need you to be very brave for me, and I need you to trust me. Can you do that?" Thranduil cupped Legolas's chin between his palms, asking in an exigent but gentle voice.

Legolas's head was still muzzy and confused. Unnerving anxiety crept into his mind as he realized that Thranduil could see all of his thoughts in here, no matter how depraved or craven or twisted they were. 

And worst of all, Sauron was here, too.

He began to panic.

"No...you shouldn't be here! You have to go!"

"Shhh, it's ok, Legolas. Focus on me and don't think about anything else."

Legolas tried his best to do what Thranduil asked, holding all the boiling trepidation at bay as long as he could. 

And then, Thranduil was kissing him.

Legolas whimpered, and his tense body gradually relaxed into his father's arms. But then Sauron's words obtruded like a ruthless arrow, piercing the momentary serenity.

Sensing the turmoil, Thranduil only held Legolas tighter, locking up all the panicking struggling within his embrace and not letting go. 

"Believe me Legolas! I love you! I love you! I love you!" The King kept repeating into the Prince's ears, "I will say it millions of times, but we do not have time, and I need you to believe me now!"

Feandir's crying and screaming reverberated through the extensive space, and the air was getting hotter. Legolas endeavored to calm himself, to push back all the doubts and compulsive thoughts. 

Thranduil's eyes darted in the direction where an explosion of energy surged and rippled through the emptiness. Time was running out.

"Legolas, this is still your mind. You can control it and overpower him." Thranduil could feel the approaching heat of fire and destruction burning his skin, "You need to trap him. Buy us more time!"

"But how? I don't know how!"

"Just think of a place that he cannot find you. Someplace that is safe and makes you happy. Think really hard!"

Legolas contrived to think of all the places he liked. His chamber, the long corridors, his mother's garden...but he could feel Sauron's imminent presence and was too scared and panicked to focus.

"I can smell you, King of Mirkwood." Sauron's hiss surrounded them like a curse, "a very brave but stupid move, and I will enjoy tearing you apart when I find you."

The heavy footsteps were getting closer. Each step made the whole space shudder. Thranduil could already see the spikes of the Dark Lord's crown when suddenly everything around them changed.

The reverberating sound of the step, the sizzling of fire and the looming dreadfulness were all gone in a blink, and the air was crisp and clean. Soft moonlight trickling down from an opening over their head.

They were in the training yard.

Thranduil blinked. He would have never guessed this was the place Legolas would choose.

Legolas was surprised by his choice too. He cast a look around, still panting from unsettled exigency.

"Why here?" Thranduil raised one eyebrow.

Legolas relaxed a little, leaned his head on the King's shoulder, slightly embarrassed, "...maybe it's because this was the only time that I was sure...or somewhat sure..."

Thranduil contemplated for a moment, then he understood.

The first time when they had sex in Dol Guldur, they were both under Sauron's spell. And the third time in the woods, Legolas wasn't sure if Thranduil was just trying to save him by giving him something he had always wanted. 

For Legolas, only that night in the training yard, there was no doubt that Thranduil made love to him because he desired him too. 

The revelation was heartrending.

"My silly son. Why don't you believe me when I say I love you? "

"Because it is too good to be true."

"Then tell me. What do I need to do to prove that I want you, desire you in exactly the same way you want me?" Thranduil gazed into Legolas's eyes with endless tenderness that he didn't even think he was capable of showing. 

"I don't know...you don't have to prove anything, it was my fault..."

Just then, a loud thud thrust into the short-lived tranquility, shaking the ground and the stone walls. The training yard's gate was creaking and whining as the second blow hit the wooden door.

Sauron had found them.

Legolas's heart jumped to his throat as the dreadfulness once again taking over his mind, "Ada, you need to leave. He will kill you! I can't hold the door close for long...I'm not strong enough!"

"No, Legolas, you are strong. You are the strongest and bravest Elf I'd ever known. This is your dream, your world. You can decide what belongs and what should go. You have to expel him! Shut him out, and he will not be able to return for a long time!"

Thud, thud, thud. Heavy blows bumped into the wood one after another, and the gate shivered as if going to break at any minute.

Legolas closed his eyes, trying to take control of this chaotic maelstrom of his mind, but the presence of pure evil was too much. Every time he tried, a sharp pain would explode through his body as if he was being torn into two, and as he screamed in pain, Thranduil was also groaning in agony.

"I can't...ada you have to go!"

"I will not leave you," Thranduil answered obstinately, "I've left you alone for too long, but not ever again."

"He will kill you!"

But Thranduil was not listening, he gently stroked Legolas's face, not caring what madness was happening around them, "you have to survive this, ion nîn. You have to win this war so we can be together. We will have all the time in the world. We can go hunting together in the spring, listening to the trees whispering every summer night, journeying to each village in the autumn and watching the snow blanket the whole forest in the winter. We can travel to distant lands, drinking ales in taverns, and visit our estranged kins near the Gray Haven. I will kiss you on the shore while the sun sinking into the sea and make love to you under the starlight, in the sound of crashing waves, letting heaven and the Arda witness our union. Don't you want that life with me? Don't you want to be my lover? "

Legolas was enthralled by the life Thranduil depicted, and the doubts, the self-hatred, the fear of being abandoned, and the incessant melancholy all dispersed, like cloud opened and the moonlight shining through the sky. He nodded enthusiastically, and for the first time in a long time, he had hope.

"Yes. I want that." 

"Then hold onto it." Thranduil clutched his hand tightly, "hold it tight and refuse Sauron."

Suddenly all the sounds ceased. But just as Legolas thought maybe it worked, maybe he had expelled Sauron, everything around them was blasted into dust. The void once again enveloped them. Ere long, a steel-covered, razor-like giant hand traversed through the dust cloud and seized Thranduil's throat.

Notes:

Thank you for all the comments and kudos! Your support is the driving force of my perseverance! <3

Chapter 52

Summary:

Salvation

Thranduil felt as if a burning whip of a Balrog coiled around his neck. The Dark Lord's steel hand blistered his skin, and although this was a conscious realm and Thranduil was actually in his fëa form, the feeling of the airway being cut out was overwhelmingly real. The excruciating pain was spreading to his whole body, like his skin was being flayed piece by piece, and yet his scream was choked and stifled within his throat.

Meanwhile in the real world, Thranduil's slumber body commenced convulsing violently. 

Legolas watched in horror as Sauron lifted his father in the air. The majestic King of Woodland Realm looked so small and powerless in the hand of the tower-like monster, and as Sauron tightened his grip, red lines started to spread to the King's face and body, tearing and chapping the velvety skin like the surface of ice broken by bursting magma. The smell of flesh burning filled the air, but Legolas knew it was not his ada's flesh that was burning, but his soul!

"No!!! Let him go!!!" Legolas dashed toward the Dark Lord temerariously but was hit with a ruthless blow with the mace. He crashed to the ground so hard that he could hear the sound of his bones cracking and breaking. He bore the pain and scrambled up to charge again, and again, and again. Each time Sauron tossed him like a weightless insect. 

The Dark Lord pressed his left foot on Legolas's chest, and though shield by the thorny helmet, Legolas could feel his malicious anger.

Sauron was losing his patience. He had to annihilate his own son today, and even though he never really cared much about Feandir and only saw him as a useful pawn, it definitely wasn't a good experience.

He could still hear Feandir's sad and yet bone-chilling curse before he smote his son's soul to dust.

"You will fail. Your pathetic life will end in flame and dust, and you will be forgotten as if you have never existed. No one loves you, Sauron, and no one will remember you."

Feandir showed no fear when the hellish flame engulfed him. He had no will to continue after waking up from Sauron's control. He didn't belong to this world, and the only one who had ever loved him, his mother, had gone forever.

He'd hoped that if he could die the same way as his mother, he could find her somehow in the afterlife.

"Pledge to me, and I won't destroy your father's soul." Sauron hissed impatiently.

"No..." Thranduil managed to let out half of a sound, and then he couldn't say one more word as fire filling his throat and mouth, scorching his vocal cord. 

The King's body was flaring in red as if there were sizzling lava roaming under his skin. And his form was turning blurry as if his very existence was no longer solid.

Legolas laid on the ground, watching the love of his life suffering the unimaginable torment, facing a permanent and irremediable end, while he could do nothing.

Was it the only way now? Did he have to submit to the Dark Lord after all?

Just as he had found hope, as he was finally sure that his ada wants a life with him. He would lose Thranduil again.

He was helpless, always helpless and useless.

Why was he always so weak? Why they had to take away the only one he ever wanted in this world?

Why can't they just leave them ALONE?!

Suddenly, all the fear and doubts were gone, and what was left in Legolas's heart was pure rage.

Uncontainable, implacable, and desperate rage.

His skin began to glow, and the light was getting brighter and brighter. He looked up, blue eyes blazing, and he brawled like a frenzied animal, "LET, MY, ADA, GO!!!"

And then, it was like a supernova exploded, or the dam collapsing and the whole ocean toppling down, a pristine light swallowed up the Dark Lord. Sauron did not anticipate such a surge of energy. He thought he had almost broken Legolas and that there was not much left.

But he was wrong.

The pure, ancient, and incomparable divine light inherited by every Eru Ilúvatar's creation smashed his shadow mercilessly, pushing him out with unremitting resolution and irrefutable authority. Sauron tried to clutch on something. A trace of fear, a strand of doubt, or a sense of resignation, but he couldn't find anything. His sharp claw left deep gashes that would surely cause a tremendous amount of pain, but he was being pushed out nonetheless.

Eventually, following a soul shuddering screeching that embodied poignant wroth and unwilling frustration, the Dark Lord was gone.

When the light finally dimmed, Legolas was kneeling to the ground, traces of burning embers still dancing around him, and burnt marks lacerated his opalescent skin like a weaved web. He was disoriented, and a horrible ringing filled his ear, and for a long while he couldn't think, couldn't move. He was so tired, more tired than fighting a battle incessantly for ten days and nights. Every single strand of energy had been burned out by the outburst of his soul light.

But he couldn't rest yet.

"Ada...ada..."A faint idea tautened his conscious, compelling him to focus. He crawled toward the unmoving figure lying on the ground, and upon seeing Thranduil's condition, he chocked out a wail.

The King's soul was severely injured. The stifled embers of the hellish fire were still roaming beneath the ashen skin, and Thranduil's form was no longer solid but more resembled a condensed cloud, barely holding his shape.

"Ada, wake up! Please wake up!" He wanted to hold his lover, but his hand went through the King's shoulder like traversing through a mist.

Legolas then knew he had to wake up so that Thranduil's fëa could return to his body. He then commenced to command the dream to end, and as the dream world collapsing around them, he and his ada both fell to the bottomless abyss.

Legolas jolted awake, covered in a cold sweat. He widened his eyes for a long moment, feeling delirium and unreal. 

Something was different. A heaviness that had always stalked him every time he woke up was now gone as if a mountain had been lifted from his shoulder. Although still weary and extremely tired, he felt...better.

And then he remembered what happened in the dream. 

Legolas turned his head and saw Thranduil lying next to him, eyes closed, deadly still, not waking up.

"Ada...ada!" Legolas shot up and shook Thranduil. His father's face was as ashen as in the dream, and he could see a horrid red choking mark embedded on the King's neck. 

He extended a shaking hand to check if Thranduil was still breathing, and to his great relief, he sensed a trace of air brushing against his finger. 

Legolas quickly put on his clothes and rushed out to find healers. It was still dark, the quietest hour before dawn, and most Elves were deep in dreams. Legolas urgently commanded the guards to wake up all the best healers in the Kingdom, and before the first sunray break the gloomy night, the King's chamber was crowded with servants and healers.

Yet no healer could heal the King, nor wake him up. 

**********

A month since Thranduil was stranded in the coma, and for a month, Legolas lived in a hell of excruciating waiting. 

The Woodland Realm was shrouded with an ineffable air of dreadfulness and melancholy as the news of the King's felling into a coma spread. Every Elf was scared, unsure about what would happen to them should the King never wake up. Legolas had to temporarily officiate his father's duty, providing a sense of stability to prevent any brewing turmoil.

During the day, he either sat in the study or attended the council, meeting with other nobles, signing the missives and replying to letters. He dispatched troops to sentries, inquired about disputes between villages, and granted occasional auditions to Erebor or Dale's ambassadors. 

At night, he would always stay at the same place, the King's chamber. He would sit at the sleeping King's side, either read more reports or read a book, eyes darting toward the King's pallid visage from time to time.

Legolas refused to consider the possibility that Sauron had burnt out too much of Thranduil's soul, and that the King might never wake up.

One night, when Galion brought in some food for Legolas since the Prince hadn't eaten anything for the whole day, he noticed Legolas was holding a book on his lap, but his eyes were fixing on the King.

"You should take some rest, my Lord. "

"Do you think he will wake up?"

"Of course! I'm sure Lord Elrond's letter is coming, and he will tell us much more about the situation we are in." 

"This is my fault."

"You shouldn't be too harsh on yourself. You are doing all you could. Not even our best healer knows what is causing the King's current symptom."

"No, you don't understand. All of it, from the very beginning, are all my fault." Legolas still didn't turn back to look at him, but there was some strange hollowness that haunted his voice.

"What do you mean?" Inquired Galion bewilderedly.

Legolas sighed and then shook his head, "nothing. Thank you, Galion, you can leave the food."

The butler tarried a short while, and, knowing that there was not much he could do to help the despondent Prince, he left the gloomy room, leaving Legolas alone facing all his swarming thoughts.

"You have to come back to me..." Legolas murmured as he grasped Thranduil's cold hand, "you promised...you said if I win, you will take me to a place far far away, to the shore, to see the ocean...remember? I won, ada. I expelled him. You have to come back to me..."

But Thranduil kept sleeping, as if he no longer care what would happen to this world, to his beloved son.

"Don't you dare to abandon me again!" snarled the despaired Prince, "You own it to me! "

And yet, the silence persevered.

**********

Lord Elrond arrived at Mirkwood in the second month, but even the greatest healer could not wake the King up. Thranduil's soul needed time to heal, and only time alone could tell if he would wake up at all.

"He knew what he was risking." Said Elrond gently, putting his hand on Legolas's shoulder. The profound sorrow predominated the Prince's countenance was a harrowing sight to behold, for he remembered how bright and dazzling the young Elf was, so full of light and exuberance. But the world and the gloomy fate was pulling him down, quenched the fire in his eyes with adversities, desiccated joy and hope morsel by morsel. 

Elves no longer belong to this land, their time was ending, and sorrow would slowly infiltrate into each household and every innocent heart.

Legolas appeared to be composed and calm, and he bowed to Lord Elrond in reverence, "thank you, my Lord, for everything you have done for my father and me. We own you our lives."

Elrond sighed quietly, "and I am sorry about what happened between you and Estel."

Estel, Aragorn, the name could still sting the Prince's heart. Legolas swallowed and ventured to ask, "how is he?"

"He is helping Gandalf defending a distant Hobbit land called Shire. Sauron's influence is expanding fast. The Halflings are no longer shielded from the Dark Lord's evil eye, but most of them are still living in blessed ignorance."

"Shire...I think I know someone who is from there."

"Yes, I've known him well too. Bilbo Baggins, Your father was very fond of him, which I have to say, surprised me."

Legolas chuckled. It was the first laugh he ever gave in two months, "Bilbo certainly is very charming. Have you met him after the war?"

"No. But he has acquainted himself with many of our kins who are on their way to the Gray Haven. I heard he has a nephew living with him now."

After Lord Elrond left, Legolas slowly descended into despair. Day after day he waited beside Thranduil's bed, listening to the inaudible sound of time elapsing. 

One year, two years, three years...each passing day killed Legolas a little more. He still performed his duty toward their Kingdom, but deep down, he knew he was losing hope.

Outside of the Woodland Realm darkness grew. More villages were infested by the sickness from the South. Orcs invaded and plundered multiple times, and despite all the Wood Elves were fierce warriors, the Orcs just kept coming back. The plains were no longer safe. Merchants stopped traveling, feared being attacked on the road. Many horrifying rumors about other realms' misfortune pervaded the Kingdom, and everyone was afraid.

"What do I do, Ada? "Asked Legolas dolefully. He had been talking to Thranduil every day after he fed some liquid food into Thranduil's lips and cleaned the King's Ivory skin with warm water. Things that he could not tell any other Elves. 

"Our home is no longer safe, and the evil out there is too powerful. Sometimes it feels like we are all abandoned by Valar."

"Why do you leave me alone in such a world? I'm not a King, ada. I can't rule like you. People are scared. They need you!"

"You know, sometimes I think maybe I should kill you, release your soul to the Hall of Mandos, and then I will follow. "

After dressed Thranduil in a new nightgown, Legolas crawled into the bed, snuggled next to the King just like every night. He was so tired, the burden of the Kingdom, the despair of never hearing his ada calling his name again all weighed on him like a thousand anvils, and only the King's familiar smell could comfort him. 

Legolas felt something was pecking on his lips and cheek between the vacillate state of dreaming and waking. He frowned, waved his hand to repel the pesterer as his sight slowly concentrated and his mind slipping out of the dreamy state. 

"Go away..." Legolas mumbled.

"Are you sure?" Replied a deep, resonant voice.

Legolas turned away annoyingly to get more sleep, but the next moment he shot up like an arrow, incredulous eyes darted toward the source of the voice.

Thranduil was sitting next to him, long hair spreading on his back. Under those lustful, bushy brows was a pair of languid yet still trenchant azure eyes overflowing with joy and affection.

Legolas blinked, "am I still dreaming?"

Thranduil smirked, "maybe. You were calling me in your dreams in a very...wanton manner. What were you dreaming about?"

Legolas blushed fiercely, and it was not from embarrassment but exultation.

"Ada! You are awake!!!"

Legolas plunged into the King's arms, almost knocked Thranduil's forehead. The King laughed while catching the ecstatic Prince, a little bewildered of the paroxysm that Legolas was exhibiting. 

Legolas was laughing and crying uncontrollably.

"You are awake, you are awake, you are awake!" The Prince kept repeating the same sentence over and over as if trying to convince himself something incredible and miraculous truly happened. He clutched at Thranduil like grasping at the last string of life, as if he was afraid that once he let go, Thranduil would dissolve into the air and never be found again.

"What's the matter, son?" Thranduil gently patted Legolas's back, trying to calm him down.

Legolas had to try really hard to recompose himself to a state that at least he could talk without choking on his own emotions. He exclaimed, "do you know how long have you slept?"

Thranduil was baffled. He remembered entering Legolas's dream, remembered being seized by Sauron, remembered the light...then he was here.

"I remembered that you expelled Sauron, and then I'm here. Did I sleep longer than I thought? Are we not in the same night anymore?"

Legolas pulled away from Thranduil a little, just enough to gaze upon his father's beautiful visage, "you have slept for three years! I thought you will never wake up!"

Thranduil's eyes widened drastically, "three years?"

Legolas launched toward Thranduil again, ravenously kissing those warm, lively lips with all the unparalleled delights of regaining something he thought had lost. Thranduil kissed him back with ferocious passion, sucking out all of his breath. The King could taste the exhilaration and the residue of the despair on Legolas's lips, and the tremble emanated from the thinner body ached his heart.

"Wait, wait ada!" Legolas broke the kiss as rationality sneaked back to his heady mind, "how do you feel? Is there discomfort? Do you want anything? Are you hungry?"

Before Thranduil could answer, the Prince jumped out of bed to grab some fruit from the silver plate on the table and snatched the water decanter, then rushed back to the King's side, stuffing an apple to Thranduil's hand, "I can call the servants to bring you something." 

"I feel fine. Never been better." Thranduil looked at his bustling son with a doting smile, "stop fussing over me. Come and sit down."

"But I should call the healers to take a look."Insisted Legolas.

"I said I feel fine. Are you not trusting your King's judgment?"

"No offense but your last judgment almost got yourself killed!" Legolas paused for a second, realizing that he was still trembling like a shriveled leaf. He inhaled to control the overflowing sentiments, "do you know what kind of life did I live in the past three years? Never knowing if you will ever wake up again while everything in this world falling apart."

Thranduil scrutinized his son. Legolas looked tired. Deep shadow hovering under his lustrous eyes, and he had grown thinner, more pallid, as if something had been wearing out his youthful vigor. 

Thranduil rose up elegantly, still tall, regal and powerful, showing no sign that he had just woken up from a long, long slumber. He stood in front of Legolas, finger brushing against the shivering lips. His other arm surrounded the smaller body into a tight, firm hold. 

"I'm sorry, my love. But I'm back. You don't need to be afraid anymore."

**********

As the news of the King finally waking up from the mysterious long sleep pervading, the Woodland Realm was immersed in ineffable jubilance. For months the shadow and gloominess that doomed the unfortunate forest land were swept away, and the Wood Elves feasted and danced and sang for day and night, and it was said that their songs could be heard from the Lake Town. 

Years after, King Thranduil and Prince Legolas ruled the Woodland Realm together. With the King's return, the Kingdom resumed its power and glory, and no Orcs dared to step into their sacred land. Meanwhile, The guards and servants closer to the royal family noticed a change of air between the father and son. Though appeared to be stately and sublime as before, the King's gaze often would change conspicuously when falling on the Prince, sometimes softer, sometimes darker, sometimes even a bit...hungry-looking, as if the Prince was a scrumptious meal.

The Prince was as proud and courteous as ever, but he would make some obscure remarks with a smirk on his lips, eyes leering at the King from time to time. 

"The new King of Dale seems to be...very friendly. He asked me to join him in a bath today." Said the Prince nonchalantly during one of their dinners.

And the King accidentally crushed his goblet with his bare hand, "what?"

"Oh it was nothing. I was just paying King Brand a courtesy visit today since he is our guest, and he was bathing and asked me to join."

"Did you?" Dangerous tone.

"I thought about it. He does have a remarkable body, though."

The King then stood up slowly, and the servant who witnessed the whole exchange swore the air surrounded the King dropped drastically to glacial, "Legolas, my study."

"So soon?" The Prince's eyes brightened mischievously.

"I have the impression that you do not quite understand the boundary of etiquette. And I intend to personally instruct you."

And then the King and the Prince disappeared into the study for hours, and all the guards were sent away before they closed the door. And another passing servant thought she heart a muffled cry from the study, but she was in a hurry and wasn't sure if it was misheard.

This was just one of those cryptic exchanges between the King and the Prince, and not even the Butler understood whose code words spoken by those two. But everyone could tell the Prince was finally happy, and he was once again the cynosure of the Kingdom, no longer veiled by grieve nor despondency. And the King was happy, too. Albeit he was still appeared to be ill-tempered, strong-headed and domineering most of the time, but he was...almost nicer and softer. And even when he was immensely pissed by someone, as long as the Prince spoke for them, the King would always pardon them without any consequences. 

Yet, outside the Kingdom, darkness thrived. Gondor was falling into pieces. People were suffering and trembling in fear. Orcs were roaming in lands, plundering villages, killing women and children, enslaving and torturing the survivors. 

The Dark Lord was searching for something, and Gandalf had been searching too. 

And one day, a haggard, dusty Ranger entered the Woodland Realm with a scrawny, grotesque ashen creature.

At the time, Legolas was discussing with Thranduil about fortifying their defense in the South, to guard against Dol Guldor, which was once again occupied by Orcs and Sauron's servants. Galion entered and informed them hesitatingly, "My King, a visitor has just entered our Realm."

Thranduil inquired without raising his eyes, "and do we know the visitor's identity?"

"Yes...He is Aragorn."

Legolas's heart stopped for a few seconds. He froze.

Thranduil, noticing Legolas's reaction, solemnly straightened himself, eyes cold as iron and ice.

"I told him to stay out of my land."

Notes:

We are finally reaching the timeline of the Fellowship of the Ring, and this fic is having about less than 1/4 left. Thank you to everyone who kept supporting me by reading it and leaving kudos and comments!

Chapter 53

Summary:

Aragorn took Gollum to Mirkwood

Aragorn had never been this nervous in his whole life.

He was discovered by a small group of Wood Elves not long after entering the Mirkwood. They knew his name and agreed to send word to the King and the Prince while escorting him and his prisoner to the King's Halls. The CaptainCaptain, a ginger-haired Elf, seemed to hold a certain level of grudge toward him. It was nothing too radical or violent, but the way she glared at him with incredulity and weariness implied her dislike toward him, though she never said anything alluding to the source of the antipathy.

Nevertheless, Aragorn could guess the reason. When traveling together, Legolas told him about his friends, and Tauriel was one of the most important companions. He told him how everyone thought the Prince was in love with her, but in fact, the Captain's heart belonged to a young and handsome Dwarf Kili. Sorrowfully, Kili was slain in the War of Five Armies, and the Captain's heart had been closed since.

Tauriel must have known the unhappy ending of his relationship with Legolas. He swore unconditional love to the Prince, yet he couldn't hold the promise when the dissatisfaction commenced growing.

He'd heard fragmentary news about what was happening in the Mirkwood in the past years. Lord Elrond told him about the King's sudden lasting slumber and how distressed Legolas was. Aragorn then thought about visiting Mirkwood to check on Legolas, but he never had the courage to act on it.

He had started something with Arwen by then, and not even Lord Elrond could wake up the King. What good would his visit had done? It would have just made the matter more complicated.

It was the first time he entered the Elven King's Halls. He'd imagined many different occasions whence he would visit Legolas's homeland, and all of them were more joyful and romantic than reality.

The thought gave him a twinge in the deep of his chest.

The ethereal song echoing in the underground Palaces' vast expanse riled the scrawny creature on the other end of the rope he held.

"Curses! Curses! We hate the noise! Make it stop! Make it stop! It gives us headaches!"

The Elves gave the creature some curious and pitying looks but asked no questions.

As they traversed across the long, tortuous bridge leading to the Audience Terrace, Aragorn could already feel the King's menacing aura assailing him. King Thranduil reclined in his throne in a languid, relaxing position with his long legs crossing, yet radiating daunting dominance and formidability.

The Elven King was as astonishingly gorgeous and scary as Aragorn remembered, but there was more poignant antipathy brewing in the King's glacial stare.

And at the side of the high throne stood the Elf who had been haunting the Rangers dreams in the past several decades. Prince Legolas was in his usual green and brown warrior attires, looking spruce and proud, a perfect reflection of his father. His perpetual youthful and breath-taking countenance was expressionless, and his crystalline eyes gleaming with unresolved sentiments.

The very sight of Legolas still made Aragorn's heart racing and fluttering uncontrollably, just like so many years ago when he first met him, as if no time had passed between them at all.

Legolas was also scrutinizing the Ranger. It had been decades since they broke up, and the elapsing time had etched its vestiges into the Ranger's still remarkably handsome features. Aragorn had matured pronouncedly. The green of his youth had metamorphosed into elegant and hardened vicissitudes, and he appeared to be more steady and prudent, exuding a temperament of equanimity.

The squeal of the little ashen creature broke the intense silence stretching between the three beings.

"Mercy! Mercy on us! The rope is too tight. We cannot breathe! Gollum! Gollum!"

Aragorn ignored the creature's wailing and bowed courtly, "my King."

"Aragorn, son of Arathorn, have you forgotten the last thing I said to you during our latest meeting?" Thranduil remarked in a lethargic yet resonant tone.

"You warned me that I am not welcomed here. "

"And yet, you barged into my Realm without any notice, with this...horrid creature." Thranduil scrunched his brows, "tell me, why shouldn't I throw you into my dungeons right now?"

"Forgive me for my trespassing. I am undertaking an urgent quest to find an accountable place to detain Gollum, and Woodland Realm is my only option for now."

Thranduil shifted his gaze toward the creature, "Gollum? What is he? Not an Orc, I presume."

"He is a sly but piteous victim of the greatest weapon of our enemy."

Thranduil's expression changed ominously. Legolas sensed a great disquietness befallen on his father and inquired, "what weapon are you talking about?"

That was the first sentence he had uttered to him for decades. Aragorn couldn't help but feel a bit bitter and wistful. He maintained his solemn and decorous manner and answered, "it has been lost since the Last Alliance, but Gandalf and I suspect it is coming out of hiding. And Gollum knows its whereabouts. Gandalf believes it is in our best interest to keep him detained for now, lest he is captured by someone else."

No need to divulge more and Legolas could already guess what the innuendo was. He turned pale, and a flash of terror scudded across his countenance.

Although Legolas was born after the Last Alliance, he had faced Sauron's tremendous power of corruption and depravity closer than any other young Elves, and he had heard the blood bathing story of how the Dark Lord was defeated with grave prices and knew about the lost One Ring.

Thranduil finally spoke, "Legolas, take this creature to the dungeon."

Legolas frowned. The King could have ordered some guards to take Gollum away. He had a feeling that Thranduil was using it as an excuse to send him away and was trying to discuss something with Aragorn without him present. He didn't like being kept in the dark for any further information, but he didn't bicker and came closer to Aragorn to take over the rope.

Their hand inadvertently touched, and Aragorn gave him a long, meaningful look. Legolas averted his eyes and took Gollum away without saying more words.

Aragorn's gaze followed the Prince until his form disappeared into one of the corridors. Thranduil cleared his throat before gesticulated all the guards to leave, interjected the Ranger's contemplation.

"Stop ogling at my son, Ranger." The King squinted his stern eyes.

"I was not..."Aragorn stopped himself from an embarrassing explanation, "I'm sorry."

Thranduil rose up and began to descent the oak stairs, his long robe trailing behind him. The Elven King's approach was always intimidating and commanding absolute subordination, compelling any being to bow or kneel.

Aragorn swallowed nervously and lowered his eyes.

"You know, I actually gave my blessing to you before you decided to leave my son for the daughter of Lord Elrond." Said the King nonchalantly but with a hint of restrained antagonism, "you broke his heart."

"Forgive me for my impertinence, but I did not 'decide' the matter. Your son decided to leave me and return to you."

"And why had he made such a decision? What excuse do you have for spending all your time with the fair Lady and not even willing to grant Legolas some chance to talk? Do you know how devastated he was?"

Aragorn was quiet for a few moments, then he answered in a plain and even tone, "you know well that his heart has never belonged to me, and it will never belong to me. If it is a choice between you and me, we both know which one he will always choose."

Thranduil tilted his chin up, a cold, victorious grin tugged at the corner of his lips, "I'm glad that at least we have reached a consensus on this matter. You can stay here for one or two days to rest and replenish, but don't try to wiggle your way back to Legolas's life, don't even look in his direction. He had been through enough."

Aragorn swallowed down the smothering anger and unreconciled wistfulness and bowed again, then excused himself.

**********

"What are you writing?" Legolas asked as he closed the door of the King's chamber.

Thranduil replied without looking back, "a letter to Imladris, informing them the Ranger's arrival, as well as the creature's presence."

Legolas moved closer, hugging the King from behind and looking over his shoulder, "Gollum, the creature, he talks to himself a lot, as if there are two souls in his body. But when I try to ask him questions, he just kept mumbling unintelligible gibberish."

Thranduil lean back and turned a little so that his cheek was touching Legolas's, "it is not our job to interrogate him. Just leave him in the dungeon, send him food, make sure he does not escape."

"But Aragorn said he was a victim of the One Ring, right? If he is a victim, he must have possessed it and probably knows where it is now. Maybe I should go talk to Aragorn..."

"No!"

The King stood up abruptly, startled the Prince a little.

"You should stay away from that Ranger." Thranduil reiterated irritatedly as he walked past Legolas and pour himself a goblet of wine.

Legolas blinked, then smiled, "it is ok, ada. It has been decades, I'm sure whatever grudges we were holding toward each other has now gone."

"He will leave soon. Don't get yourself entangled with men again. They are as deceiving as Dwarfs. Mortals generally can not be trusted." Sternly repudiated the King.

Legolas gaped at him for a few seconds, then he grinned like a cat just stole a fish, "wait...ada, I am a bit confused. Are you being protective or being possessive?"

Thranduil scowled at him, "Do I have to choose?"

Legolas couldn't help but find his grumpy father very cute, a description that only he dared to use on the King. The Prince tilted his head as he loitered toward his father, putting a hand on the firm and broad chest and a playful smile on his lips, "are you afraid that I will run away with him?"

"You wouldn't dare." Thranduil's voice went deeper, then he sipped his wine.

Legolas slightly rose his heels so that he could reach to his father's lips with his and quickly licked away some residual wine, "and what if I do?"

"Then I will find you, drag you back, and chain you to my bed." Thranduil began to move forward, forcing his son to go backward at the same leisure pace. He could smell the desire rising up in Legolas's vigorous body, and it was so deliciously sweet, like fresh honey, "or I could just chain you up now and skip those unnecessary steps in the middle."

Legolas's breath hitched in excitement, and he deliberately licked his lower lip, "if you lock me up, then I cannot fulfill my duties to our people anymore."

Thranduil chuckled and suddenly pushed the Prince's chest harshly, watching his son fell into his enormous, luxury bed, "your duty will only involve fulfilling me, my green leaf."

Legolas laid open in the bed, watching his father placed the goblet on the nightstand, and actually procured a delicate golden chain from one of the drawers. Legolas's eyes widened in surprise, "when did you get that?"

"You think I was joking when I told you that I thought about locking you up?"Smirked the King.

Legolas was half-wildered, half-amused, but mostly exhilarated while watching Thranduil installed one of the cuffs on his right wrist. It was a bracelet-like cuff, so dainty and delicate that it looked more like jewelry rather than an actual cuff, "where did you even get this, don't tell me you ordered it from Erebor."

Thranduil gave him a dirty look.

"No way...you actually ordered it from Erebor? What did you tell them when you wrote the requirements? I hope not 'for pleasure purpose'?"

"I used Galion's name to request it."

Legolas burst into loud laughter, and Thranduil quickly covered his mouth with his palm, "shh, do you want the whole Kingdom to know that you are in my chamber in the middle of the night?"

Legolas tried his best to repress the chortle as Thranduil closed the other cuff on his left wrist, "same safe word?"

"Yes."

The King grinned devilishly, secured the other end of the chain to one of the curvy wooden vines decorating the headboard. Legolas's breathing grew heavier and anticipating blush smudging on his cheek. With a few testing tug, he noticed that the cuff, albeit appeared to be harmless, was more resilient and sustainable than he'd imagined. The Dwarfs' artisanship was truly remarkable.

Though this was the least appropriate time to admire it.

The King now was kneeling on his side, looking down at his helpless son with an unreadable expression. Ere long he extended a hand, teasingly opening the buttons on Legolas's tunic one by one, taking his time to reveal the perfect body, "I should have the tailors make you more clothes. This one is too dowdy, unsuitable for a Prince."

"I could hardly fight Orcs in those silky flowy robes like yours, ada. I will trip on them the moment I charge..."

"Why couldn't you? I could eliminate a dozen Orcs easily while in them."

"May I remind you that time you tripped on your robe and almost fell from the stairs to the throne? You are lucky I'm the only witness..." Imagine if any guard or servent or worse...a visitor saw that. It would surely have become the hottest conversation topic of the whole Woodland Realm for a whole century...

"Shut up, Legolas." Thranduil pinched the defiant Prince's left nipple to evince his annoyance, causing Legolas to yelp.

"Ouch!"

"You do not talk unless I grant you my permission, understood?"

Legolas groaned but nodded.

Thranduil took the goblet from the nightstand and sipped the wine, while his scrutinizing eyes roaming over the Prince's body as if contemplating what would he do with it this night. After a while, Legolas was getting impatient.

"Will you please just finish the damn drink already?!"

Thranduil sighed in exasperation, "what did I tell you?"

"But..."

"No but. Such an insubordinate little brat." Thranduil shook his head as if disappointed at a willful child while holding the goblet over Legolas's chest, then tilted his hand. Blood-like wine poured down onto the pearly skin, forming a visually striking contrast. The King poured the wine all the way from the Prince's chest to his lower abdomen, forming a small puddle in the slightly sunken area around the stomach. Thranduil discarded the empty cup and lowered his head to lick the wine from the Prince's navel. His tongue dipped into the small concave, causing Legolas to moan deliciously.

The King sucked and licked, lower and lower, and Legolas had no idea when was his breeches pulled down. And as the King's mouth getting closer and closer to his hard cock, Legolas began to squirm agog. However, Thranduil kept prowling around, ignoring his ravenous need.

"Ada..." Legolas pulled on the chain unsatisfyingly, slightly bucking up his pelvis to hint at his plight, but Thranduil only slapped his thigh in warning, "Be patient!"

Legolas fell back to the pillow pouting, his cock was so hard, and he was so horny, but he couldn't even use his hands to touch it himself.

Thranduil began to kiss around his inner thigh, and his hand gently massaging the two balls at the base of the very spirited dick. Legolas bit his lips, refusing to make more sound, a small passive remonstrance on his part. But suddenly, all his self-restraint collapsed, and he exclaimed in greatest satisfaction as the King finally opened his mouth and engulfed his cock, almost all the way to the base in one smooth motion.

"Oh Valar!!!" Legolas felt like he was seeing stars exploding in front of his eyes, and his toes all curled up, his body arched prettily upward, like a tautened bow.

The King hadn't blown him before, and Legolas never thought that Thranduil would deign to do such a thing. He was not prepared for an onslaught of a deep throat. Thranduil firmly pressed his hip down and kept sucking and licking and sending his son to the moon. Legolas's cat-like whimpering made him very proud and urging him to show the full extent of his skill set.

An oil-coated finger sneaked into the tight hole, and Legolas didn't even register much until it started to move. He felt so good that he wanted to cry, but he had to hold back because even though the door and the walls were thick enough, the guards could still hear...

However, before he could reach the fast approaching culmination, Thranduil stopped. Legolas cried piteously, "no no no, please ada please don't stop!"

"Not so fast, my love." Thranduil smirked as he shook off his heavy robes, long hair gleaming silver draping over the wide shoulder and firm chest, his towering build looming over Legolas like an ultramundane god. He raised Legolas's legs and folded the lissome body in half, and then pressed his cock's swelling head at the coyly squirming entrance.

"Tell me, who do you belong to?" Commanded the dominant King.

Legolas exclaimed without hesitation, "to you! Ah!"

Before the word "you" left the Prince's lips, Thranduil burst into his body in one powerful thrust, shoving all the way down, making Legolas shaking in overwhelming pleasure.

"Say it again!"

"To you! I belong to you! Uh...you are my King! My master! My love!"

The King looked down at his green leaf, wrists tightened overhead, Legs were pressing down to his chest, pretty face blushing fiercely, eyes stained with uncontrollable tears, and the flat belly rose and fell as the giant cock kept pumping into the wet little hole. The Prince was a puddle of whimpering mess, so helpless, so utterly overpowered, and so beautiful. Thranduil wanted to take more, to devour him whole and not letting him be seen by another pair of eyes ever again.

But the Elven King knew that he did not own Legolas, and he couldn't even keep him in this cursed forest for long. Unlike him, Legolas cared about the outside world and often inquired around about the situations in Gondor and Rohan. He still had hope for this land.

And now, Aragorn had brought the outside world into Mirkwood.

Thranduil's thrusts became more erratic and relentless, and Legolas couldn't hold back anymore. With a choking whimper, his cock ejaculated, white hot liquid shooting up to his chest. But the King continued. He turned Legolas around, pulled his hips high and dived into him once more. Legolas's whole body was shaking with the King's punishing cadence, and the sensitive spot was attacked every single thrust. Soon the fire was rekindled, and Legolas's cock was once again fully erect.

Thranduil bit on Legolas's shoulder, hard enough to draw blood as Legolas moaning in wanton pleasure. The sound of flesh slapping and water splattering, and the smell of cum and sweat commingled with the smell of musk and oak wood licentiously filled the room. Until with a strangled cry Legolas released his cum the second time, and the King also growled in exultation, spent himself in the tight, hot tunnel.

It was always a mess after their sex, but none of them care. The King opened the cuffs with a small golden key and then embraced his exhausted son from behind, covering the smaller body with his own as if trying to shield Legolas away from everything.

Legolas sighed in perfect satiation, even though he knew that he would be sore in the morning and probably would need to be careful not to let others see the red bruises on his wrists. He allowed himself to be enclosed by his father yet detected a sense of disquietness in the King's mood.

He turned around and stared into Thranduil's eyes, "are you worried about something?"

Thranduil looked at him gently, his usually stern countenance completely softened, as if an invisible armor was taken down, revealing a still gentle, warm soul.

"No, why do you ask?"

"Just a feeling." Legolas muttered, "are you worried about Aragorn?"

Thranduil grunted, "of course not."

"I cannot love anyone else, ada. You know that." Legolas smiled sweetly, "I really tried, but you've seen the result."

"I know."

"Then what's troubling you?"

"The future."

Legolas scrunched his brows, "the future?"

Thranduil sighed profoundly and pulled Legolas closer, tighter, as if afraid of losing him. He couldn't tell Legolas that he was...indeed worried, afraid, even.

There were two kinds of future on the plate.

If Sauron wins, the world will burn, and Mirkwood would burn with it. Both him and Legolas, as well as all the Elves, would be unlikely to survive the darkness.

If Sauron is defeated, Elves will leave for the Undying Land, but Valar would never allow him, a sinner, to enter the sacred land. He would probably lose Legolas, forever.

In both futures, he would lose Legolas. And he knew that he could not survive it.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay with this chapter!

Chapter 54

Summary:

"And I will have to let you go. Again."

The second time Aragorn saw Legolas in Thranduil's Palace was the next day, when he conversed with Elos about Gollum, telling him about how wily and sneaky the creature was lest his gimmicks tricked the guards. 

Legolas was about to go to the dungeon to check on the new prisoner, and there he saw Aragorn. The Prince contemplated his father's advice on turning away and avoiding talking to the Ranger, but he stayed on second thought.

"Aragorn."

The Ranger transfixed for a brief moment, but he quickly recomposed. He turned around, holding the Prince's gaze, and inclined his head courtly. His gesture was decorous, formal and distant as if they had never accompanied each other day and night for almost two decades.

Legolas's eyes darted to Elos swiftly, and the guard knew his meaning without him uttering it. Elos bowed to Legolas and left, taking other guards with him.

Reticence extended between them, pale and heavy like an ancient ghost. Aragorn only looked at him quietly, eyes as deep as the western ocean.

Legolas asked, "how have you been?"

Aragorn answered, "traveling a lot. You?"

"Not traveling anymore."

"You look happy." Remarked the Ranger in a softer tone, "I'm glad your father is ok."

"You've heard about it? He saved me from Sauron. Lord Elrond said his soul was damaged. It is a miracle that he woke up at all."

Aragorn was wordless for a while, then sighed and muttered in a husky voice, "I should have come to see you. "

Legolas beheld the repressed affection still hovering behind the punctilious manner, and he smiled wistfully, "it is ok, Aragorn. The worst days have passed, and as you said, I am happy now. " He paused for a few seconds and continued, "and you? How are things going between you and Arwen?"

Aragorn couldn't understand why Legolas could speak like they were just friends, why he could mention Arwen's name so casually, devoid of any bitterness nor anger. 

What were they even doing? Dancing around the real matter that divided them decades ago.

Aragorn was tired of pretending. He turned away, chuckling bitterly, "are you seriously going to ask about my love affair? After how we left things between us?"

Another period of silence, then the Prince hesitantly said, "you are right. Maybe this is a bad idea. Sorry."

Sensing Legolas was about to leave, Aragorn suddenly turned around and grabbed his arm, "wait."

The azure eyes questioned him, so bright and clear, just as Aragorn remembered. 

"Why did you leave with your father?" Aragorn blurted out the question that had haunted him all these years. He managed to keep his tone even and calm, though his heart was quivering from waiting for an answer.

Legolas's eyes slightly widened. He licked his lips nervously, considering what answer he should give. 

He should be honest with the Ranger. After all these years, they needed closure.

"I eavesdropped on your conversation with Arwen the night before. You said loving me is too painful because I cannot give you my heart. You said you cannot bear the pain anymore. And...you hugged her after she confessed to you. So I thought maybe it's time for me to let you go."

Aragorn went pale, "what? No...that was just...I was just angry!"

"And you were right. " Legolas rejoined with ingenuousness, "it was unfair of me to seek solace from you constantly yet not be able to requite your love. You were hurting, and I was the cause. You can be happy with Arwen, Aragorn. She can give you a life that I cannot, and you deserve to be happy, to be loved wholeheartedly."

A twinge resonated in Aragorn's rib cage, and he couldn't help but regret the past. Rationally he knew what Legolas said was right. It was for the best that they separate. But first love is always a perpetual inscription on one's heart and soul, and until the very moment, the love was still alive, only stifled and stashed beneath layers of wistfulness and complications.

"I could have made you happy too." Aragorn whispered, "even your father said so."

"You did more than that. You showed me the world and taught me to care about it, to fight for what is right. You are still the most important person to me other than my ada."

"Then why do you have to choose this? You know you won't have a future with him. I may be a mortal, but at least I'm not your..." The Ranger stopped himself at here, fearing their conversation would be heard by the third party. 

"I know what I want...what we want is not acceptable by others. But I do not regret it, and it would be unfair if I lie to you and unfair for you to waste your life on me." Legolas gently put his left hand on the Ranger's, which was still unwilling to let go of Legolas's right arm. The Prince asserted solemnly, "but you will always be my dearest friend and family. And my promise to you still stands. Anytime you need me, I will be by your side. Until one of us is claimed by death."

Aragorn knew then this was the best result they could get. Legolas never belonged to him, and what they had was a dream. Now, it was time to wake up.

His heart ached profoundly, but he smiled and pulled the Prince into a tight, reminiscent embrace. He deeply breathed Legolas's smell, crisp and fresh like the sunlit forest, the smell that he would embed in his memory until the last moment of his life. 

"Ahem." A sudden interjected sound startled the two, and Legolas turned and saw Thranduil stood on a higher platform, looking down at them with regal posture and impassioned expression. 

Legolas stepped away from Aragorn. Even though the King didn't show any emotion, he could feel the air around the King was distorted by his huffishness, and Legolas didn't want Thranduil to smite Aragorn into dust with his trenchant scorn.

"Ada, what are you doing here?"

"This is my Kingdom. I go where ever I desire." The King answered coldly.

Alright...the King was definitely pissed...

Aragorn inclined slightly and answered, "you do not need to worry, my Lord. I will depart soon."

"Worry? What should I worry for?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

Sensing the increasingly tautened atmosphere, Legolas interpolated hastily, "should we interrogate the creature? Did Gandalf tell you how long do we need to imprison him?"

"Gandalf is still searching for more evidence to ascertain his surmise. Before, he was sure Gollum has to be confined. "

"This creature will bring us trouble," remarked the King, "does the Wizard have a plan if he knows where the Ring is?"

It was the first time the Ring was officially mentioned in the open, and somehow it dampened the ambiance around them, made everything duller and heavier as if the reality was daunting on them.

"Gandalf always has a plan. The Ring cannot go back to its master, that is for sure. Gandalf believes Gollum still has an important part to play in the narrative of destiny, and I believe him." Answered the Ranger resolutely.

"Blind belief is just fatuity." Commented the King as he sauntered down the stairs, a subtle scornful and domineering expression lingered in his eyes as he glanced over the Ranger, "how is Lady Arwen?"

That was obviously a provocative question. Legolas frowned and was about to say something, find a reason to take his father away, but Aragorn rejoined before he could utter a word, "she is well. Though I haven't seen her in years."

"I've heard that many Elves in Imladris have heard the calling from the sea, and they are leaving for the Grey Havens. And I've also heard rumors that Lord Elrond wishes to send Arwen to the Undying Land with her kins, but she has been delaying her departure."

Aragorn's jaw tightened, "rumors do travel fast and far."

"As the descendent of Beren and Lúthien, she can choose to be mortal or immortal. I couldn't help but wonder if she plans to make some permanent decision to end her permanence. " Thranduil quirked his mouth, "and I wonder if she knows what she is getting herself into."

Legolas nervously glanced at Aragorn, and the latter's composed expression craked with vestiges of disquietness. Aragorn retorted sternly, "that is her decision to make. She is a wise and extraordinary Lady, not a callow, naive maiden."

Thranduil sneered at him, "you have a proclivity to drag people into your problems, Ranger. You've bought trouble into Mirkwood, and you've brought mortality to Lord Elrond's house."

The blow heated to the heart, and the Ranger's countenance overcast.

"Ada!" Legolas exclaimed reprovingly.

Thranduil glared at him and turned to leave. Legolas hastily apologized to Aragorn then chased after the King.

"What was that all about? You are very uncharitable!" Legolas blocked the King's passage in one of the empty courtyards."

Thranduil rolled his eyes annoyingly, "so what? I told him to stay away from you, and he deliberately disobeyed me in my own house. I'm charitable enough not to throw him out of my land immediately."

"He didn't disobey. I sought him out!"

"And why would you do that? Did you forget how much you suffered when he broke your heart?!"

"It was all in the past, and it's not like I am faultless. I broke his heart too, and probably had caused more pain for him." Legolas sighed as he stepped closer, "ada, we have had our closure, and the hug was nothing more than a reconciliation. "

Thranduil scoffed as he turned to the corridor on the other side of the court. Legolas tailed after him helplessly, "ada please don't be so childish!"

"Mind your word, Legolas." The King's voice resonated with dignity and intimidation, "and no, I am not angry because of that hug you had. I am angry because I know he will take you away from me."

"What?! Where does this come from?"

The King halted unexpectedly, and Legolas almost bumped into him. Thranduil didn't turn around, and the light was blocked by his tall, erect form, and all his thoughts and emotions were condensed into a mysterious shadow. 

"Because you are still young, and you still care. If he needs your help to save Middle Earth, you will go."

Legolas was speechless for a long while. The profound sadness exuded from those simple, dispassion-masked words moved him and transfixed him. 

"Ada..."

"Don't try to deny it. You know it is true and is going to happen." Thranduil finally turned to face him, his usually authoritarian, composed and imperative countenance crumbled, and a strand of wispy vulnerability was laid bare, "and I will have to let you go. Again."

Legolas didn't care if anyone would see them. He threw his arms around the statue-like body and embraced the love of his life as tight as he could. He whispered from the bottom of his heart, "but I will return to you. No matter how far I go, I swear I will always return to you. We are Elves. We have eternity." 

Thranduil didn't let his son saw the bitter and sorrowful smile that dampened his lips.

**********
The King and the Prince had nine years of relatively peaceful and happy lives after Aragorn's visit. The Orcs' number was growing in the South, and the number of pillages and invasions also escalated each year exponentially, and Legolas had to patrol the borders at least once every month to defend the Elven land against the drastically growing evil. However, no matter how perilous or bloody the battles were, he knew he could always return to Thranduil's embrace, and that gave him immense gallantry and power, forging him into an even more fierce and redoubtable warrior. 

Legolas strode into Thranduil's study while the King read a book, reclining on a divan leisurely, wine in hand. He rosed his eyes quickly to examine Legolas, making sure his son was unscathed, then scrunched his brows, "you should go have a bath first. I can smell the stench of Orc blood."

Legolas pouted exasperatedly, "you should show more solicitude toward your son who just came back from a very ferocious battle."

"Of course I am worried about your well-being, my dutiful son, but now that I can tell you are in perfectly good shape, my priority naturally shifts to other aspects. Don't step on the carpet! "

Legolas not only stepped on the new carpet with his muddy shoes, but he also scruffed his sole on it. A defiant smile tinged his lip corner. 

Thranduil placed down the goblet and pulled the Prince's arm roughly and unexpectedly. Legolas fell on him with a startled yelp, feeling the King's breath brushed his earlobe, "you are going to pay for this little insubordinate behavior of yours, but I guess you like it."

Legolas chuckled and prostrated on the King's chest, his cerulean eyes glistening brightly, "I thought you don't want me to stain your cloth and carpet."

"Well, since you have already stained my carpet, may as well do it more thoroughly," Thranduil smirked and seized Legolas's lips, gave him an infatuating, breath-taking kiss, biting and licking the soft lips like chewing on a scrumptious piece of food. Legolas's body soon melted into a puddle of water, and as the King suddenly turned their position around, pressing him down to the divan and began to peck on his neck, he contrived to hold a strand of rationality and said, "ada, wait, I need to talk to you about the invasion..."

Thranduil grunted muffledly, "must we?"

"The Orcs are on to something. They've become bolder and more persistent, not just aiming for occasional marauding, but are trying to encroach our land. I think we should take some proactive measures."

Thranduil paused, then sat up and contemplated, "you are talking about starting a war against Dol Guldur."

"We can send word to Lothlorien. The Orcs are harassing them too."

"The Elves' number is diminishing in Lorin. Most of them have sailed to the west. I doubt Celeborn and Galadriel would like to risk a full-scale war against Dol Guldur now."

"At least we should be prepared. Even if we do not want the war, it will come to us sooner or later." 

Somber cloud shaded the King's countenance. He knew Legolas was right, as he could also feel something dark and malicious was brewing, though he could not see it clearly. The premonition had been hanging over his head like a sharpened sword, and he couldn't tell when it would fell.

And the time came sooner than Thranduil expected.

Two days after Legolas's return from the border, a troop of Orcs came surprisingly close to the King's Halls and attacked the guards. It was at a lamentable occasion as the Guards took Gollum out of the dungeon to give him some fresh air. Many Guards were killed, more were injured, and the little ashen creature escaped during the turmoil. 

"I've sent all the guards to search in the woods for days, but they haven't found anything. "Said Legolas as he paced around agitatedly, "Gollum could have been captured by those Orcs and send to Mordor for all we know."

Thranduil sat on the throne. He was reticent this whole time, unreadable emotions wrestling behind the charade of tranquility. 

 "We should inform Lord Elrond of the incident. " Continued the Prince.

At length, Thranduil finally said, "yes, we should. But we will do more than write a letter." The King sighed deeply, painfully, and finally said, "you will go to Imladris to deliver the message."

Legolas was so surprised that he wasn't sure if Thranduil was serious.

Everyone knew the Elvenking detest the outside world and would never initiate contact with other realms unless it was an absolute necessity. 

Thranduil explained dryly as he rose and descended the stairs, "the time has come. I've gotten messages from Imladris that the Nazgûl was on the move, searching for the Ring. Gandalf is definitely going to try to transport the Ring to Imladris. But the Ring cannot stay there as it will draw Sauron's wrath to Imladris, and Elves can not defend against such overwhelming evil. They have to make a decision soon, and we have to participate because it tights the fate of the whole Middle Earth, and we cannot escape from the outside world anymore. As I told you, when the Ranger brought Gollum to our land, he had brought the future and the world to us."

Legolas nodded in concord, "I will depart as soon as possible."

Thranduil stood in front of Legolas, scrutinizing him in the same way as many years ago on Ravenhill when he told his father that he could not go back. The gaze was so gentle yet plaintive, and his ensuing words even more so, "the journey will be long and arduous, full of incertitude and danger. You have to protect yourself and do not do any impulsive or reckless things. Always remember that I am still waiting for you to come home."

Legolas did not quite understand the thick sorrow haunted the King's tone. Why was ada sad? It was just delivering a message, and he would be back in several months. Was there more to this mission? 

Chapter 55

Summary:

An old friend from Lothlorin

Legolas departed from Mirkwood on a gloomy July morning. Heavy grey clouds veiled the sun, and the air was still like stagnated water. Legolas was a bit tired and sore. It was probably not a good idea to indulge in licentious activities with your lover the night before a long journey, but he just couldn't help. 

 

It would be at least four months before he could come home. He hadn't left Thranduil's side this long for decades. It was almost unbearable to imagine not be able to sleep in his father's familiar smell and the warmth of the powerful body for such a long time. 

 

"Have you checked if you packed enough clothing? Misty Mountain has begun to snow at this time of the year." The King's voice disrupted the morning tranquility. While all other guards bowed hastily, Legolas turned and beamed at Thranduil.

 

"Ada, you've asked me at least five times. I hope aging doesn't turn you into a blathering grandma."

 

A newly joined young guard gasped at the Prince's defiant remark while the older ones had already gotten used to it. The King's ill-temper was never directed to the Prince, no matter how disobedient the Prince appeared to be.

 

Thranduil squinted his eyes as he strode toward Legolas, "you dare to be insolent because you know I cannot discipline you for several months. Rest assured, I do keep a record."

 

"Come on, ada! I'm about to leave. As a father, you should be more benign and gentle like Lord Elrond."

 

"Lord Elrond is ten times more of a blathering grandma than me. "

 

Legolas bust into an artless laugh. And to the guards' surprise, the King smiled too. It was such a beautiful yet wistful smile that many of them couldn't help but stared. 

 

Thranduil pulled Legolas's cloak tighter, gently brushed a strand of disarrayed hair away from his shoulder, "You should go. "

 

Legolas stared at him with yearning and nostalgia, "yes, I should go."

 

The Elvenking tenderly lifted Legolas's chin with his warm fingers. The way he stared at his lips made Legolas wonder if Thranduil would kiss him in front of everyone. But the King only looked, as if trying to imprint every detail of Legolas's countenance into his mind.

 

Finally, he let go of his son and stepped back. 

 

Legolas mounted his horse fluidly and glanced at his father one more time, "wait for me."

 

Thranduil's lips tautened into a thin line, trying to repress all the feelings gushing in his chest, and nodded.

 

And then Legolas was gone. Once again.

 

**********

 

One month after Legolas left Mirkwood, Thranduil began to feel something was wrong with him. 

 

It was all small things, frivolous and petty. At first, it was just a sense of dullness, as if everything was losing its color and vibrance, and a thin layer of ashen grey shrouded his world, like the dust settling on a tombstone. Then he lost his appetite yet drank more wine. Some days he couldn't sleep. Other days slept too much. A flatulent void inflated in his chest, hollowing out all the feelings and left only numbness.

 

He wasn't sure what was going on. Legolas hadn't left long, and there was no exigent incident bothering him, yet each passing day, he felt like losing a small fragment of himself. 

 

Maybe it was just from missing his son, he thought. Maybe it was nothing serious.

 

**********

 

Legolas arrived at Imladris on October 24th. He was surprised to find that many other Elves, Men, Dwarves and even the Hobbits were all visiting at roughly the same time for different reasons, and Imladris had never been this busy and tumultuous. 

 

"What's going on? Is there a festival undergoing?" Legolas gawked at the gorging Dwarves in a nearby courtyard as he dismounted. 

 

Aragorn quirked a smile as he walking toward the Prince, "no, more like a council."

 

"A council?" Legolas was bewildered, "I've only come to deliver a message. "

 

"Then you've arrived just in time." 

 

It has been nigh years since their last meeting, and Aragorn had matured further. The righteous, brave and genuine Ranger still kept all those praisable qualities yet had sheathed all of his younger sharpness with a profound, time-brewed restraint and steadiness. 

 

And yet, Legolas was still the same. Bright and beautiful like the fresh sunlight kissing the green leaves. Every time the Ranger saw him, he would still remember the first time they met and feeling a dull ache pervading his heart.

 

Legolas chuckled, "you are an old man now, Aragorn."

 

Aragorn grunted, "and you are way older than me."

 

They promenaded across serpentine trails and passed by another tall and handsome man. The Man had a proud and dignified air about him, and he nodded toward Aragorn and Legolas before leaving.

 

"Was that your Kin?"

 

"Yes. His name is Boromir, the Gondor Stewart's elder son. Sauron attacked Osgilliath several months ago. They've come seeking assistance."

 

"And the Dwarves?"

 

"They've come to inquire about their Kin Balin, who ventured to reclaim Moria many years ago but had lost contact with Erebor."

 

"I think I've met one of those Dwarves. Glóin, he was one of the thirteen Dwarves who followed Thorin Oakenshield to the Lonely Mountain. Balin was one of them too...Not many of them left..."

 

The memory of Thorin induced a twinge of sadness. The King Under the Mountain had a life full of mishaps and adversities, yet he still strived to do the right things. He and Legolas had saved each other in the battle, and he had changed Prince's impression about Dwarves. And now, he had gone for so long.

 

Nothing is permanent. Everything will end and decay. Legolas suddenly understood why the Elves were leaving. It was cruel for immortals living among mortals because they had to witness everything that was once grandeur and beautiful, everything that they've cherished and loved, fade and rot into nothingness.

 

Sensing the Elf's sadness, Aragorn gently put a hand on his shoulder, "do not let melancholy overtake your heart, my friend. As Gandalf used to say: all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

 

"It feels like fate has brought everyone to Imladris at the same time, for one reason." Legolas murmured as he overlooked the secrete Vally from the platform they were on, "the council, is it about the Ring?"

 

Aragorn slightly nodded.

 

The Ring was in Imladris, and they had to destroy it. 

 

Otherwise, Middle Earth would be lost, and everything good and cherishable would end.

 

Legolas sighed, and an ineffable weight commenced burdening his mind, "I think I start to understand my father's words now."

 

**********

 

After Lord Elrond's Council, Legolas had no time to return to Mirkwood, so he wrote a letter to Thranduil and let one of the messengers of Imladris deliver it.

 

He begged for Thranduil's forgiveness in the letter, though he conjectured that his father had anticipated such an outcome. Somehow, his father knew that he would join the Fellowship of the Ring.

 

It would be ok, right? It wouldn't take longer than two years, and he would return once it was done. 

 

Though, an uncanny feeling kept assailed him since he had witnessed the Ring during the Council. 

 

It called to him. 

 

He was sure it also called to everyone, but for him, it evoked a memory, which he had buried for decades. 

 

"Your fate is leading you toward my precious. I can sense it, smell it."

 

The rumbling, hissing tone of the serpent of darkness and chaos echoed in his memory, making him shudder in fear.

 

Was this why Sauron wanted to claim his soul so much? The Dark Lord somehow sensed that Legolas would get close to the Ring. And had Legolas failed to resist him, he would have become the Dark Lord's mole. He probably would have let the Fellowship to Sauron's trap...

 

The very thought shook his core.

 

Legolas left his room, intending to breathe some fresh air to clear his head. However, as he passed by an ajar window, he heard voices of arguing, and one of the people engaging in the dispute was definitely Gandalf, and the other one, Lord Elrond.

 

"Thranduil mentioned in his letters that he has been well since the expelling. "Said Gandalf.

 

The mention of his father piqued Legolas's curiosity. He held his breath, trying not to let anyone perceive his presence.

 

Lord Elrond then rejoined, "it was not a permanent solution. Sauron had been busy dealing with Gondor, but once he knew the Ring is on the move, he would surely refocus his attention on Legolas. And who knows when will he find a way to get into his mind again?"

 

"He has been well for decades, no relapse. Besides, Sauron wouldn't know who is in the Fellowship. "

 

"But can you be sure? The Fellowship is our only hope, Mithrendir, and we cannot take chances."

 

Gandalf sighed, then continued in a solemn tone, "I vouch for him, my friend. None of us has faced Sauron as closely as him, and yet a young Elf like him managed to fight the Dark Lord for more than a century. If he is not qualified as a member of the Fellowship, who is?"

 

Then, there was silence.

 

Legolas quietly moved away. The Wizard's words still reveberated in his ears. 

 

"I would vouch for him."

 

It was touching to be trusted thus, but what if Lord Elrond was right?

 

What if Sauron came back for him?

 

He didn't think too much about his history with Sauron when he volunteered for the mission. The recent several decades of happiness made him forget about all those bone-chilling horrors and sufferings. How foolish he was.

 

Doubts began to infest his equanimity, and he didn't notice that he was walking toward several drinking Dwarves. Until one voice caught his attention. 

 

"Hey! Pointy!"

 

Legolas halted and looked around, finding the annoying Dwarf from the Council was shouting at him. He wanted to ignore the brute, but then the Dwarf, Gimli, shouted again, "I heard you've lost your prisoner again, huh? You Elves really should learn how to build descent dungeons. You can't even lock up a miserable little creature like Gollum!"

 

All other Dwarves chortled excessively, including Gimli's father, Glóin.

 

Legolas rolled his eyes and answered, "no offense, but the Dungeons of our halls were actually built by your people."

 

The laughter stifled. 

 

Legolas grunted and was about to leave. Suddenly Glóin inquired, "how was the Elvenking?"

 

Legolas wasn't expecting such a question. After the War of Five Armies, their relationship with the Erebor thawed a little, but Thranduil was still far from being Dwarves' friend. Legolas quickly resumed his courteous manner and answered, "he is very well. Thank you for asking."

 

Glóin, whose hair had grown gray and skin coarsened by lapsing time, examined the Elven Prince with a certain amount of reminiscence, "the first time we meet, Thorin had a fight with you in your training yard."

 

Legolas smiled, "yes, I remember, and I kicked his ass."

 

"Well, he was afraid of harming you since you are so delicate and fragile, and a puff of wind could have blown you away."

 

"That's not what he said when he landed on the ground," Legolas smirked, and they both laughed. Gimli, on the other hand, was not so amused. How could their legendary King lose to this golden hair princess?!

 

The elder Dwarf sighed, "You are still so young, yet I am already getting too old. Most of my old companions are gone, and it is nice to meet some familiar faces."

 

Legolas inclined slightly, "and I'm sorry for calling your son a Goblin mutant all those years ago."

 

"What?!" Gimli exclaimed, mortified.

 

Glóin only laughed sonorously and gazed at Legolas with hearty warmth, "it is a relief to know that you will join the Fellowship, too. You are a great warrior. My son Gimli is also a great warrior, just a little stubborn, like all Dwarves. "

 

Legolas glanced at the younger but also more testy Dwarf and remarked mischievously, "don't worry, I will take care of him."

 

"Care my ass!" fulminated Gimli.

 

"If you insist."

 

"Urgh! You insolent brat!"

 

Thanks to this little encounter with the Dwarves, Legolas temporarily forgot about his disquietude and doubtfulness. Yet the unsettled feeling had rooted its tendrils deep into his heart.

 

The day the Fellowship departed from Imladris, Legolas's letter was presented to the Elvenking. Thranduil perused each word carefully while he was alone in his study, and in the end, as he gingerly folded the paper to lock them into his drawers, a sudden gush of itchiness assaulted his throat, and he coughed violently.

 

It was a foreign feeling as Elves generally do not get sick. He kept coughing and coughing, and he couldn't stop. He used his hand to cover his mouth, lest the sound caught the guard's unnecessary attention, but when he removed his hand, crimson spots were blooming on his palm.

 

He did not understand what was going on. Was he ill? Was he cursed? Why was his heart feeling so empty?

 

Thranduil tottered back to his chamber, opened a locked chest and took out the forgotten seeing stone. He woke the Palantíri pell-mell like a famished traveler saw a piece of steak, and when Legolas's lithe form once again appeared in front of his eyes, the hollowness in his heart finally subsided a little.

 

Then it dawned on him, this was what he was missing, which was also why he had been feeling sick and hollow.

 

He needed to see Legolas, to feel his emotion and his presence. The further his son was away from him, the worse his sickness would develop.

 

He withered to the ground, pale and defeated, all the majestic postures gone. Thranduil knew there had been something not right with him since he fell into a coma after his soul had been damaged by Sauron, but because Legolas was always near, he didn't feel it.

 

Maybe he was never fully healed.

 

Feandir said nothing about such symptoms since his mother died in the process of saving him. Thranduil was at a loss.

 

Why was he affected by Legolas's absence so much? It felt as if his spirit was stretched thinner and thinner, on the brink of snap and torn into pieces. And now, it had started to impact his hröa.

 

**********

 

Legolas did not expect sorrow would befall them so quickly and relentlessly.

 

It was less than a month since the Fellowship set out from Imladris, and they lost Gandalf in the abyss of Moria. Everything happened so fast, none of them had time to understand, to contemplate the reality, nor to grieve.

 

Mithrandir, the kind elder who always came to his aid when he needed help, who always brought him candy and toys when he was an Elfling, who was obstinate yet also gentle, who trusted him even when he didn't trust himself. He was one of the constant presence of this world, and Legolas had never thought that one day he would be gone.

 

Not even immortality lasts forever...

 

They had no time to linger, no time to cry. Everyone had to collect themselves and kept moving. The Ring Bearer, Bilbo's nephew Frodo, was hit hard by the Wizard's death. Legolas could sense something within the Hobbit changed, as if he finally realized the true meaning of this mission, that he might never make it back.

 

That night when they camped in the wilderness, Legolas had a dream. He was standing on a tall cliff, and the endless sea laid yonder, dark and silent. The wind blew against his face, sending a sinister whispering to his ears. At first, he couldn't make out the content of the murmur, but as he strived to grasp its meaning, the words gradually became discernable.

 

"Where is the Precious?"

 

The question, so inimical and venomous that it shook Legolas out of his dream. He breathed heavily, noticing Aragorn was watching him.

 

"Bad dream?" Asked the Ranger.

 

Legolas realized that he had broken out a cold sweat, and his palm was clammy. He nodded anxiously, not wanting to divulge more, "I shall keep watch for the rest of tonight. Go get some sleep, Aragorn."

 

"It's ok. I can't sleep."

 

They sat side by side while Gimli snoring thunderously next to Legolas. The Elf snorted with a subtle sense of indulgence, "I wish I can sleep like that."

 

"Then you will have to try to grow some beard first." Rejoined Aragorn with a hint of a smile.

 

Legolas rolled his eyes, "not in a million years."

 

After a period of comfortable silence, Legolas asked, "will you return to Gondor after everything is over?"

 

"I do not know."

 

"Or maybe go back to Imladris? "

 

"I doubt there will be anyone left for me to go back."

 

"What? Why?"

 

"Everyone is leaving. Half of Imladris' houses are empty now. "

 

"What about Arwen?"

 

Aragorn paused for a long while, then lowered his head and said quietly, "I told her not to wait for me. She is probably on her way to the Grey Haven now."

 

Legolas was speechless. His gaze was compassionate and sad. Aragorn put his hand over the Evenstar necklace, a sense of acceptance and wistfulness exuded from his mien, "it is the right thing to do. She can choose immortality and go to the Undying Land, and I should not let her give that up for me and then leaving her alone in this decaying world as I perish. Your father was right. I can give her nothing but death."

 

"That is not true! My father was just peevish at the time. You shouldn't have listened to him."

 

"It is ok, Legolas. It was just a dream, just like what we had."

 

"No, what we had was real. It was a precious memory for me, and I will never forget those years." Legolas rejoined resolutely, "and what you have with her is real too. You shouldn't give up so easily. Lady Arwen will make her own decision, and her fate is not for you to decide."

 

Aragorn didn't reply. He merely reclined on the boulder behind him, looking into the stary sky. At length, he muttered, "will you sing me the song again, Legolas? The one you used to sing when we just started traveling together."

 

And Legolas did. His ethereal voice rippled through the cold night breeze, brought the Ranger back through the river of time, back to the younger and simpler days. 

 

The next day they followed the river of Nimrodel and arrived at the forest of Lothlorien. It was a cold January morning, but within the woods, the air was fresh and balmy. 

 

Legolas still remembered the beauty of the mysterious forest of silver and gold, and after days of arduous traveling, he yearned for some peace and rest. Yet, he was on his toes, restless, unable to relax.

 

Someone he knew might still dwell here. Or maybe he had already sailed to the west.

 

It had been two hundred years...

 

Legolas hadn't lived as long as many elder Elves, yet he had left too many memories on every land already.

 

He felt someone was approaching as Gimli boasting about how "resilient" he was against Elven magic, and he was the only one who didn't startle when arrows were pointed at them. 

 

However, when the familiar languid, husky voice vibrated in the winter air, Legolas was petrified for a moment.

 

"The Dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark."

 

The silver-haired Marchwarden sauntered toward them, and his penetrating gaze nailed Legolas in place while a name resonated in Legolas's mind.

 

Haldir.

Notes:

I can't believe this story has traversed across 200 years XD

Chapter 56

Summary:

The fall of a dear friend

Thranduil knew that the servants and guards started to notice his anomalous parlor and withered spirit, and rumors commenced circulating. The word "sickness" could be heard in all kinds of furtive whispers, but none dare to mention it in front of the still august and intimidating King.

Nonetheless, Thranduil felt like shit. Sometimes when he sat on the throne listening for the guard's weekly report, or when he was in a meeting with his council, or when he was in the study by himself, his mind would wander into a far and empty realm without himself noticing, and reality faded into a constant meaningless static noise. It felt as if he was slipping away, just like when he lost his father and his wife, but worse, because he couldn't find a cause for such feeling.

The only abatement he had was when watching Legolas in the seeing stone. But the more he watched, the faster the hollowness within him expanded, like pouring ale on fire. 

Maybe he should seek help, but deep down, Thranduil knew nothing could be done about it. The damage was done, and all he needed to do now was to wait for Legolas to finish his mission and come back to him. 

He just had to hold on.

**********

The night had fallen, and the forest slowly drifted into a serene dream. Most of the Fellowship members had drifted away with the somniloquy of the woods, except for Legolas.

They were camping on one of the Talans, while the Hobbits were camping on the other one not very far from theirs, together with some of the Lorin Elves. Legolas could see those four tiny figures huddled together, and not very far from them, stood the tall, silver-haired Elf.

Haldir only talked to him once since they met in the woods. A very formal exchange, almost cold and distant. Legolas wondered what Haldir was thinking at this very moment. Was he agitated or disgusted by Legolas's presence? Was he indifferent? Had he somehow chose to forget the past they shared?

Had he told anyone? 

Legolas was mad at himself for questioning Haldir's promise. The Marchwarden always kept his words.

Signed quietly, Legolas got up, lissomely and soundlessly climbed down from the Talan and heading toward Nimrodel. Ere long, he heard a light step that was inaudible for men's ears followed him, but he did not pause until he reached the rippling stream.

He took off his shoes to wash his feet. The cool water brushed against his skin, taking away his weariness and restlessness. He hummed the song of Nimrodel along with the singing of the water, just like what he did in the morning. 

"I'm surprised you still remember the song." A voice behind him disrupted the singing.

Legolas didn't turn, but his lip corners lifted slightly, "of course I remember. Elves never forget, and that is our curse."

Haldir sauntered closer, his gaze roaming on the lithe figure sitting on the bank. He wondered if the Mirkwood Prince was actually made of fluorite because it looked like he could absorb the starlight around him. 

"I thought you have sailed west."

"You don't want to see me?"

"I thought it is the other way around." Legolas turned his head and glanced at Haldir tentatively.

Haldir snorted, "it's been two centuries, Legolas. You are not important enough for me to hold a grudge that long."

Legolas lowered his eyelid, "sorry."

Haldir drew nearer, crouched down next to the Prince, his charming and handsome countenance unreadable, "you know, for years I couldn't get the deprived image I saw that night out of my mind. Just when I finally start to forget, you have to impose yourself on my life again."

"I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable. I will try my best to stay out of your sight if that is what you want."

"That is not what I want." Haldir stared at him with piercing intensity that burnt Legolas's skin.

"Then what do you want?"

Haldir was reticent for a while, and he turned to look at the dancing moonlight on the stream, "Why do you join this quest, Legolas? You know how dangerous this journey would be. Are you trying to repent?"

"Repent? For what?"

"Don't force me to say it."

Legolas sighed as he looked into Haldir's eyes guilelessly, "I do not regret what I have with my father if that is your innuendo."

Haldir gaped at him as if looking at something he couldn't fathom, "aren't you afraid? We are leaving this land, Legolas. Valar are calling us home, and one by one, Elves will be called and sail west. Are you not afraid that they will never call you? Don't you worry that you and your father will be the last Elves walking this land, forever alone and deserted?"

Legolas answered resolutely, "Yes, I sometimes think about it and feeling dreadful and scared, but I'd rather be exiled by Valar than leaving my father. I know it is...wrong in everyone's eyes, and I tried...I tried so hard to stop it. I tried to exile myself and love someone else, none of which worked. It is my fate to love him."

Haldir inclined toward him slightly, and his hand fell on Legolas's knee, "no, no one should have such fate because it is unnatural! You need help, Legolas. I've missed you, and after so many years, my heart is still aching. Maybe I can help you. Maybe if you stay, I will give you all the happiness you deserve, and you and your father will both be absolved from this sin. "

The smoldered passion was surging under the cold color of the Marchwarden's eyes, and his hand was warm and insisting. But Legolas shook his head as he stood up, keeping his distance, even though it pang him to watch the hurt pervading under Haldir's composed veneer, "I'm sorry, Haldir. I can't...and I won't. I love him. There is no other possibility. That is said, I do have regrets...I regret hurting you."

Finishing the word, Legolas quickly turned to leave, not daring to look at Haldir's expression. Guilt excruciated the Prince's conscience, making him question his worthiness once more. Why was he always hurting someone? Did he really deserve to be happy? 

For the rest of the month, during the Fellowship's stay in Lothlorien, Legolas didn't see Haldir very often. The Marchwarden was probably avoiding him intentionally, and maybe it was for the best. 

As days went by, the grief of Gandalf's death gradually subsided and healed in the tranquil haven of Caras Galadhon. Yet Legolas's mind was assailed by other matters. Lady Galadriel had told him to beware of the call from the sea, though he very much doubted if he would be called at all, he was nonetheless anxious about it. 

Haldir's words obtruded his thoughts more frequently than he had anticipated.

"Are you not afraid that they will never call you? Don't you worry that you and your father will be the last Elves walking this land, forever alone and deserted?"

What if they called ada but not him? What if the gods decide to separate them permanently?

And it was more likely to happen than he'd like to admit because he was the one who started it. He fell in love with his father first.

If it was the other way around, Legolas would stay with Thranduil without a second thought. But could he ask the same from his father?

Resisting the call from Valar could be painful in the long run. It was like feeling a strong urge to accomplish something yet could never fulfill it, and being abandoned in a world that was no longer belong to them for eternity would be downright cruel...What should he do if it really happens?

Would he let his ada go? Or should he beg him to stay?

If Thranduil really stayed for him...the following long years would slowly wear them down. Their Kingdom would be abandoned because there would be no one left. They would be forced to leave the woods to find livings among men and dwarves. No more Starlight festival, no more singing and dancing under the new moon, no more Elven tales nor praying. Their traditions would fade into history, and their identity soon would dissipate amid endless frivolous survival routines.

They wouldn't fit into any nation any group because they were so different from everyone else, and they would grow bitter and somber and eventually resentful to everything, and that venomous, ineluctable resentment would burgeon and thrive and torn their love asunder, and they would have nothing left.

They would fade, not together, but in hopeless loneliness and despair.

The gloomy future made him shudder in consternation. Every time a decision was made, he would revoke it the next second. By the end of their stay, he finally made a decision. Had the premonition come true, he would let Thranduil go. He'd find a way to trick his father board one of those grey ships and sail to the sorrowless land of Valinor. And he would stay and accept his destiny, whatever would that be.

He'd rather fade alone in a murky corner rather than lose his father's love ever again. He'd rather die than seeing hatred stain those entralling, piercing eyes.

However, this was not his only woe. As these melancholy thoughts grew more frequent, his dream had become increasingly unsettling. He dreamed of fire, of earsplitting crying and shrieking, of pandamonium of shadows and nefarious laughter and a dark, smoggy sky with no moon nor stars.

He smelled death and suffering in the air, yet he couldn't escape. A blurry, dark figure was inching closer to him each passing night.

"Where is it?" A curse-like raspy question kept echo in his ears, and Legolas knew that Lord Elrond was right.

Sauron was getting closer to him.

The Hobbits sensed his uneasiness and were worried about him. Even the Dwarf asked him one day, "you don't look so good, pointy ear."

"I still look better than you."

"My ass! No Dwarf woman will choose a hairless fella like you over me. And don't try to change the topic!"

Crap, the Dwarf was getting more sagacious.

Before they set out from Lorin, the Lorien Elves endowed them with plenty of supplies and cloaks that would change color and conceal them under prying eyes. During the cloak clasping ceremony, Legolas was astounded to notice Haldir was walking toward him, the cloak and a green leaf brooch in hand.

Haldir stood in front of him, flung the cloak over the Prince's shoulder, and for a moment, they were in such proximity that they could smell each other's scent. 

Haldir pulled the fabric tighter around him, nimbly attaching the brooch. His finger brushed against Legolas's chin inadvertently, and it felt intimate and gentle.

"Don't do stupid, reckless things like you always do," whispered the Marchwarden.

Legolas smiled warmly, knowing Haldir probably remembered the deal he made with Feandir that had gotten him into so much trouble. 

"I promise I will try my best to stay alive."

And for the first time since their reunion, Haldir returned a genuine smile. The way he gazed upon Legolas was tender and soft, mixed wistfulness, caring, worry and love loss. It was a heartbreaking and beautiful smile, which left an indelible stroke on the Prince's heart. Because it was also the last one the Marchwarden would ever give to his beloved Prince.

A half month later, Haldir fell in the Battle of the Thornburg.

When his was lacerated by the Orcs' merciless knives, when his strength rapidly rushing out of his body along with his blood and life, when he was falling to the ground and was collected by a pair of arms, he had no time to think, no time to reflect his whole life, no time to regret.

He would have regret for many things.  

Legolas was not by his side. It was the Ranger who caught him at his last moment. Therefore, he had no chance to tell Legolas that he volunteered to come to the battle just to see him one more time before sailing west.

But it was ok.

He was merely sailing in a more expeditious way. He would reunite with his parents in the Hall of Mandos, and all the sorrow would be healed.

He opened his lip, and with his last breath, he said, "tell him...don't cry for me..."

And then the Marchwarden of Lothlorien was gone.

Legolas didn't know about Haldir's death until after the battle. One moment he was happy, messing with Gimli about the kill count, being grateful that they were still alive, the next moment, Aragorn found him and told him.

Legolas tottered toward the room in which Haldir's body was laid. Someone had already cleaned up the blood. The silver-haired Elf lay mothinlessly, eyes closed, face pale but peaceful, and his lips opened slightly as if about to say something but hesitated. Legolas still remembered the soft but demanding feeling when those lips pressed against his skin, could still recall how he trembled under the scrutinization of those captivating but now closed eyes. 

He still remembered the way Haldir walked toward him with so much confidence and elegance at that banquet. Legolas was brooding and self-pitying the whole night, but the Lorin Marchwarden smirked at him, asking him for a dance, and told him that he was the most beautiful Elf in the Woodland Realm.

"I will help you, I promise." Haldir used told him, and he saved Legolas. He elevated him when he was in the darkest place, consoled him when he was swallowed by despair. And yet, Legolas requited the Marchwarden nothing but heartbreak.

And now, he couldn't even save him when Haldir needed him. He didn't even know.

Legolas's body trembled violently, yet there was no tear. Aragorn had conveyed Haldir's last word, and Legolas was going to honor it, no matter how badly he wanted to weep.

Legolas bit his lips hard until drew blood. A shaking hand gently brushed away some strayed hair. He had to make Haldir looked as good as usual, even though the silver-haired Elf had gone far, far away.

"We will all meet in the Hall of Mandos eventually anyway. No point to dwell on a temporary parting." Haldir used to tell him. Now Haldir must be with his parents, and there would be no more pain.

He shouldn't cry.

Legolas lowered his body and kissed the cold lips one last time.

"Farewell, my friend." He murmured. His eyes hurt from holding back the tears, and he felt a twinge of agony in his chest.

That night, Legolas's mind drifted away in great grief, and he woke up in a burning world. 

The familiar dreadfulness surrounded him. Everything was burning. Everything was collapsing. And in front of him stood the monstrous, tower-like dark figure, with a thorny crown ripping apart the canopy. A giant flame eye was over his head, looking down at Legolas maliciously.

Legolas was petrified in fear. The Dark Lord had come back for him.

A giant claw-like hand gripped Legolas's neck. The cauterizing iron blistered his skin, causing tremendous pain. Legolas's scream was choked and stifled in his throat as he was raised into the air like a helpless animal.

Sauron's raspy voice resounded in the dream world.

"Where is my Precious!"

Chapter 57

Summary:

The war was over.

Thranduil felt it when Legolas saw Haldir's body and was overcome by grief. The familiar suffocating darkness enveloped his mind like an overturned ocean, dragging him down to the lightless, lifeless bottom of the abyss. 

He was in the middle of a meeting, and all of a sudden, he stood up abruptly with a ghastly countenance, then left the council without a word. He locked himself in his chamber and looked into the seeing stone immediately.

He witnessed Legolas's devastation, watching him barely containing the insurmountable sorrow and trembling helplessly. He knew the importance Haldir was to Legolas. When Thranduil was captivated by Feandir's amorous spell, when he was extremely cruel and cold toward his son, Haldir was Legolas's only consolation, and if not for his help, the Woodland Realm could have fallen under Sauron's control. Even though a series of following mishaps and misunderstandings broke their friendship, Legolas had always cherished the memory. 

Thranduil extended his arms, trying to hold his son, to console his paralyzing grief and alleviate his grievous pain. But he couldn't. He was thousands of miles away, and all he could do was to watch.

Trepidation assailed the King as he knew this pain was more dangerous than Legolas could have known. For decades Legolas was free from Sauron's influence, way longer than Feandir, because they had decades of happiness, and it kept his son safe.

But now Sauron would seize this chance and try to get back into Legolas's head, to interrogate the whereabout of the One Ring. And this time, he wouldn't be so patient anymore.

He would tear Legolas's mind apart if Legolas refused to reveal any information.

Thranduil wasn't sure if he could still enter Legolas's dream when his son was so far away from him, and he wasn't sure this time if he could wake up at all. But he had to try.

To get closer to Legolas, he ventured into the Prince's chamber at night and brought the seeing stone with him. With Legolas's personal belongings surrounding him, he waited patiently, waited until Legolas finally began to drift away before dawn, and he commenced chanting the same spell from Feandir's scroll. 

It was definitely way much harder to get the spell to work than last time. He tried dozens of times and kept failing. Whenever he opened his eyes and saw the same surroundings, he would have to restart all over. A sharp, horrendous pang erupted within his mind, almost paralyzed him completely. He prostrated on the floor, grunted in agony, holding back a compelling impulse to scream. It felt like millions of insects were gnawing at his flesh under the skin, and they were crawling and digging and trying to dive into his inner organs and consume his guts.

Thranduil knew that his presentiment was right. Sauron was torturing his son for information, and he had to do something!

"Valar! Please! Please let me help him!" He begged piteously. Anyone who'd known the august King would have been stupefied to witness such a display of vulnerability. But he was at the end of his wits, and when you've reached an impasse, except for begging the gods, what else can you do?

Was it Valar's clemency or a mere providential fluke Thranduil knew not, but after two more trying, he finally found himself in Legolas's dream.

Though it was still different from the last time.

It was as if looking through a blurry glass. Everything was fuzzy and shifty. Patches and blotches of colors all mingled together, and he could barely discern the silhouettes and shapes of his surroundings.

The heaven was heavy with layers of tempestuous clouds, and the air was scorching with pungent smog. Moving shapes were screaming and chased by other monstrous shapes, while the fire was burning like a circle of a skyscraping wall, enclosing the whole world. A great, fiery, and inimical eye was looking down from the empyrean of the sky, spasmodically rotating its thin pupil. 

The hellish scene reeked of the smell of death and destruction, invoking great distress and horror from one's heart.

It wasn't hard for him to find Legolas. Even though his vision was blurry and fuzzy, his son was the only thing that shined in this hell. However, the light was dim and oppressed by something titanic and abysmal. 

Legolas was hanged in the middle of the air on the surface of a precipitous cliff, an invisible rope bound his right wrist. A recreation of an ancient scene when Morgoth hanged Maedhors the same way. His clothes were tattered by fire and lashes, barely covering his blood-stained body. 

He didn't know how long he had been hanged here. Time passed differently here. One second in the lucid physical world could he a month in a dream, and one minute could be a century. The giant crow-like crebains had been pecking at his wounds, tearing away his flesh. The Dark Lord was present sometimes, lashing him with barb-covered whips or burn him with red irons while whispering venomous boding words.

At first, he knew the pain was not real. It was all in his dream. But as days and even years elapsing, he gradually lost the sense of reality and forgot about it. He believed he had actually been chained on a precipice for days and nights of the past decade, and his right arm had necrosed and lost all the sensations and commenced rotting. The stench repulsed him.

His right arm was gone. He could no longer shoot any arrow. He was no longer a warrior.

Maybe his arm was not the only thing that was rotting. Maybe his whole body was rotting too. Maybe the agony was transforming him into something twisted and grotesque, just like what Morgoth did to those unfortunate stolen Elves before they even had a chance to wake up to a nascent Arda.

And as if reaffirming his inner fear, the Dark Lord appeared in front of him once again, monstrous like a mountain,  the hollow eye behind the invincible helmet mocking him mercilessly, "do you think your companions would still see you as one of them if they know your connection with me? Do you think they will ever trust you again? If you lost your beauty, what else do you have left? Would anyone still love you if you are an ugly, broken thing? Would your father still love you?"

Would his ada still love him if he was turned into a grotesque monster? Would ada still take him back if he was beyond repair?

Legolas wasn't sure. No...he was sure.

No one would love him anymore if it was really the case. Not even he could love himself. 

He was pushed toward the brink of breaking as the urge of begging for the torture to stop crescendoed.

"Tell me, who has the Ring. Which hobbit is it? " Sauron drew near, the singeing heat and the retched smell of sulfur assaulted his sensations, "if you tell me, I will let you go. Or I can also keep you here for a thousand years."

A thousand years...

No...that was too long...he couldn't take it...

But he couldn't sell his friends. He couldn't be a traitor!

He couldn't be the reason for the ruin of the whole Middle Earth. Gandalf trusted him, vouched for him. He couldn't let everyone down.

And his father...Thranduil would be ashamed of him. 

"No...I won't tell you..."

Sauron was filled with unparalleled wroth. He couldn't understand how any mind could bear so much torture and not giving in. This soul...this young, callow and unexceptional Elven soul was supposed to be easy, yet it had taken him three attempts and showed no sign of compromising. 

No one is incorruptible, Morgoth used to tell him. And he believed his master. But why this one, who was having a sinful relationship with his own father, managed to resist his every effort?

Maybe it was time to give up, Sauron thought. Maybe he should just end him now. Though without much magical power, Legolas was a fierce warrior and would cause much trouble on the battlefield. 

What a waste.

Just as the Dark Lord was about to raise his hand to rush the light of the Elf, he felt something...unusual.

Someone entered Legolas's dream...someone he knew.

Yet he couldn't see the Elvenking but only sensing him. It was a whiff of wind, a sliver of passing shadow. The presence was very weak, which shouldn't be able to cause much trouble.

But he was wrong.

In his deepest vault of despair, Legolas heard a voice. 

"My love, come back to me!"

It was distant at first but gradually became discernable with increasing urgency and fervency. Meanwhile, a shape commenced coagulating in front of him. The tall and erect statue, long and graceful limbs, lustrous and flowy titanium-golden hair, and the gorgeous and noble countenance. The Elvenking used all his willpower to overcome the long distance between them and once again came to his son's aid. He was radiating grandly like the midnight sun, and his ethereal light extended and embraced the Prince's broken shape.

"Father!" Legolas gasped as the King's arm surrounded him. The warmth and the familiar smell of oak and musk expelled all of his agonies. But the light was too bright, and the haunting recollection of Sauron tearing Thranduil's soul apart soon intruded his mind.

"Ada no! You cannot be here! Not again!"

Thranduil said in an imperative, commanding voice, "you did it once. You can do it again. "

The Dark Lord's giant, claw-like iron hand had spread behind Thranduil like a pit of death, and it was going to swallow up them both. 

And Legolas suddenly found the light within him again. 

As his body began to glow, brighter and brighter, Sauron let out a thunderous roar, repleting with unprecedented rage and frustration. He did not want to completely lose access to the Elf's mind, so he chose to withdraw rather than be expelled.

In a blink of an eye, all the flame, the heat, the pain and tumult ceased. Legolas blinked. His tormented mind had a hard time processing the absence of suffering.

He was back to the woods, surrounded by ancient oaks and a tranquil breeze. He was still in Thranduil's embrace. It felt so real that he could even hear his father's heartbeat.

"It's over." Thranduil gently let go of him. His smile was so proud, yet there was a tinge of sadness.

Legolas was about to ask how he entered his dream from thousands of miles away and how he knew that he was in such a dire situation, but before he could utter a word, the dream ended.

Legolas was shaken awake by Gimli.

"Rise and shine, lazy Elf. " The Dwarf nagged him without knowing what a horrendous battle had taken place in Legolas's mind during the past several hours. The Prince blicked for a few times, unsure of the time and space of presence.

The horrible dream had lasted for too long that he had a hard time remembering the reality.

Starting to notice the Elf's aberration, Gimli inquired, "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Legolas put his hand on his right arm. It felt alive and fine, without a single trace of blemish. His body was also devoid of any wound.

But he could still smell the lingering scent of oak and musk. The intoxicating scent of his ada.

"It's ok. It was just a dream."

**********

It was the last time Thranduil was able to use the spell to enter Legolas's dream. In order to manifest himself to save Legolas, he exerted too much of his already depleted spiritual power, placing a huge burden on his never healed soul. Upon awakening, Thranduil wasn't able to move his limbs for several long hours. He was so exhausted that he wanted to fell back into a healing sleep, but he had no such luxury.

Dol Guldur had been making a lot of noises recently, and he was trying to dispatch armies against potential invasion. He had no time to rest. Three hours later, he appeared in front of all the soldiers in his silver armors, looking as redoubtable as usual, except a bit paler.

**********

Legolas heard the crying of the seagulls when he was riding with Aragorn and Gimli to Pelargir, and he smelled the salty and vast taste of the wind, coming all the way from the Bay of Belfalas. It was at that very moment he felt it.

The Horns of Ylmir. The music of the great Ulmo.

It was not audible to any mortal ears. To Aragorn and Gimli, it was only the sea gulls' crying and nothing more. But Legolas knew then that the gods were whispering his name, planting a seed of evermore restless longing inside his heart, and he could no longer be content with the shades of oaks and elms and beeches, and not even the fragrant of his homeland soil could suppress it.

He had heard many tales about the sea-longing that dormanted within every Elf's heart until it is awakened by Valar. They described it as an everlasting whisper behind one's head, urging them to go west, to return to the immortal homeland that the gods had prepared for them. It can be postponed and repressed temporarily, but whenever it is quiet, the longing will once again emerge from the deepest corner of one's heart, disrupting all the peace and tranquility until one day the Elf can no longer resist it and finally board a grey ship.

And now he finally felt it. It was nothing intrusive, nothing demanding, just like drizzly rain permeated into the soil in a soft vernal morning. Valar had forgiven his sin and allowed his passage to Valinor, probably due to his resistance to the Dark Lord and his service to the Fellowship. Legolas was a little disquiet but relieved because he was finally sure that he could be with his father forever.  If Thranduil received the call, they would either sail together or depart separately and meet in Valinor later. And if Valar never called his ada, then he would resist the call and stay.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Middle Earth, Thranduil was fighting fiercely alongside his warriors. As he speculated, Dol Guldur invaded the Woodland Realm on March 15th. Orcs swarmed the Woodland Realm like a surging tempest. They destroyed everything on their way, setting up a conflagration devouring the trees and villages relentlessly. 

The Wood Elves fought with everything they got, for had they lose this war, they would have lost not only their homeland but also their dearest families. Their blood drenched the dark soil, their cry of anger and sorrow echoed everlastingly under the thick canopies of the mourning trees.

Thranduil's hair was disheveled, Orc's blood blemished his fair face and silver armor. His hands were sore and tired from nonstopping wielding and slaying, and his sharp sight was blocked by the thick smog from fire. He had lost count of how many Orcs he had killed and how long he had fought. He was not in his best shape as the sickness greatly affected his stamina, but he couldn't stop.

Death was everywhere. The bodies of his brave soldiers piled on the ground with the Orcs' limbs, golden armors besmirched by dirt and blood. The trees screaming silently while being singed to dust, and the cottages of his people collapsed into piles of ruins. 

It was painful to watch his Kingdom burn and his people suffering, but they could not give in this time.

They had to keep fighting.

"Everyone falls back! Hold your positions!" Thranduil shouted resonantly. The Orcs were too much, and they've lost too many warriors. He could only hope the traps that he'd furtively prepared for half a month would hold the Orcs back, giving them a chance to rally and retaliate.

Just then, a spurt of relief vibrated in his heart, and he knew it was from Legolas. His son was fighting another battle in Gondor, and he was safe. The sensation gave Thranduil hope, rekindled his strength and resolution. He mounted his elk and galloped through the murky forest like an effulgent shooting star, attracting as much the Orcs' attention as he can, and lured them toward one of his most deadly traps. 

The Orc army chased after him like a flood of death, yet the silver star jumped across the interlaced hill like roots and serried boughs and branches with unimaginable agility and gracefulness, always several steps ahead and perfectly evaded every poisonous arrow. 

Suddenly the King muttered something in Elvish, and the elk abruptly changed its course. The Orcs, who were more cumbersome and ruthless, couldn't stop so fast, and as they rushed forward, the whole ground fell, revealing countless sharpened wood pikes at the bottom of the pitfall. Some Orcs tried to stop, but the upcoming Orcs, who had no idea what was happening at the anterior, pushed the front Orcs to their demise. 

The Orcs' howling could be heard from the other side of the Mirkwood. 

Thranduil's plan worked, as thousands of Orcs fell into different pitfalls, Wood Elves cheered in ecstatic shouts, and the fire of hope and courage blazed in their eyes. They charged again in their King's name, pushing out the invaders with sheer ferocity resembling the Elves in the first age.

Days after the first victory, Thranduil led his army advanced all the way through the infested forest, recovering their lost lands inch by inch, foot by foot. The non-stop fighting and arduous marching heavily burdened Thranduil's exhausted body, and he coughed blood several more times while no one was noticing. But he never stopped resting, never showed his weakness for even one second. 

On March 25th, he felt a strong sense of alleviation, so strong that it almost felt like being resurged by some divine force. It was a sensation coming from Legolas through their empathy bond, an ineffable beatific feeling similar to a bird, who had been caged for two centuries, was finally free.

Thranduil knew then the war was over, that Sauron, who had overshadowed the whole Middle Earth, and who had brought so much woe and suffering to his son and him, was finally gone. 

And Legolas was coming home.

Notes:

I estimate there are about two to three chapters left for this fic, can't believe I'm finishing it!!! XD

Chapter 58

Summary:

The King made a decision.

It took Legolas several extra months before he finally reached the Woodland Realm. He stayed for a month after Aragorn's coronation to attend the new King and Lady Arwen's wedding, then he and Gimli visited the Glittering Caves under Helm's Deep and the mystical Fangorn Forest. Yet when he laid eyes on those heavy, luxuriant canopies basking under the golden sunlight, he almost thought that he'd come to the wrong forest.

Gimli, who was sitting at the back seat of their horse, grunted, "this is Mirkwood? It's nothing like my father said!"

"No, your father was right...it was not like this before..." Legolas dismounted in inexpressible exhilaration, eyes gleaming with joy, "the woods are healed! The darkness has been expelled and so does the infestation!"

Gimli watched amusingly as Legolas trodden amidst the ancient, splendid woods like a blithe child. Trickles of sunlight glittering on his hair like pearls and diamonds. The Elf was in some singular unification with the trees as if he was a part of the forest, as if every tree and every piece of leaf recognized him and welcomed him to come home.

No wonder why his name is 'green leaf', thought Gimli.

The Wood Elves' singing soon could be heard, and Legolas picked up his speed. Soon, the smile on his face waned as he saw many devastated and abandoned villages, burnt woods, and collapsed cottages. He'd heard about the Battle under the Trees, but was never able to obtain enough details about it. The messengers appraised his father's sagacious strategies, and the Wood Elves' braveries yet didn't mention how much price they paid for the victory.

Many of their villages were destroyed. Elves who had lost their home were temporarily relocated to the Elvenking's Halls, and the Palace was crowded.

When Legolas appeared at the exceptionally busy gate, he was soon inundated by waves of jovial gasping and exclamations.

"The Prince is back!!!"

All the Elves in the Hall paused what they were doing and crowded the Prince and the Dwarf. Some fair Elven Maide even commenced singing an ode about him joining the Fellowship of the Ring. Gimli followed Legolas while feeling a bit uncomfortable to be the center of so much attention. He knew that Legolas was a Prince, but since the Elf rarely acted like one during the journey and never used his title, he'd forgotten about the fact most of the time. And now he began to realize just how popular Legolas was among his people.

"they wrote a song for you?!" Gimli mumbled incredibly.

Legolas was busying smiling warmly at everyone and still managed to send Gimli a cheeky, complacent glance, which annoyed the Dwarf to no end. Tauriel pushed through the crowd and gave Legolas a hearty hug, "welcome back, my friend! Where have you been! We thought the new Gondor King kidnapped you or something!"

Legolas chuckled blithely and tilted his head toward Gimli, "this one here didn't want to leave the Glittering Caves. I had to drag him out."

Gimli blushed profusely as Tauriel gave him a dazzling smile.

Just then, someone announced, "the King!" And all the uproar and singing died down. The Elves retreated to both sides, forming a long path leading toward the oak bridge toward the Audience Terrence.

On the bridge stood the Elvenking, a glowing sun under the mountain. Legolas couldn't wait any longer. He dashed toward Thranduil at a spanking pace, but as he got closer, he noticed the unusual pallor and the seemingly unimpassioned countenance. He stopped two steps from the King, beaming at his father with a note of tentativeness, "ada, I'm back!"

Thranduil didn't smile, and his gaze was regal and harsh, "what took you so long? The war ended months ago."

Legolas's smile faltered, "I...sorry, ada. I promised Aragorn to stay for his wedding, and then Gimli wanted to show me the Glittering Caves..." His voice dampened in anxiety as if a kid realizing that he was in trouble.

Legolas did not anticipate this...In his imagination, Thranduil was supposed to pull him into a fierce and voracious embrace instantaneously and whisper into his ear how much he missed him...

"I see. You've forgotten your home when you have all the new friends, huh?" The King raised one bushy brow and gave him one of the most sarcastic and judgemental looks that Legolas was so familiar with.

"Come on, ada, it's not fair! It's not like you wrote me any letter?! You wrote Lord Elrond more letter than you have ever written to me."

"Oh, so you like writing letters. Is that why you chose to write me a letter telling me that you had decided to join the Fellowship without even confer with me first?"

"I thought you'd wanted me to join the quest!"

"Just exactly when did I give you that impression?"

Not far from the bickering father and son, Gimli asked Tauriel quietly, "are they always like this?"

Tauriel sighed exasperatedly, "always."

The King's Butler finally decided to end the puerile quibbling by greeting Gimli and successfully redirected Thranduil's attention to Gimli. And the brave Dwarf actually flinched when he was pined by the King's glacial glare.

"Welcome to Eryn Lasgalen." The King said in a nonchalant tone.

Legolas blinked, "Eryn Lasgalen?"

"Yes. The infestation is gone, and Mirkwood is free of darkness. I deemed it is advisable to give it a new name, and Lord Celeborn agreed."

Eryn Lasgalen. Meaning: the wood of green leaves.

It was very palpable who the King was thinking when he suggested the name.

Legolas grinned widely and flung himself into the King's arms, not caring if hundreds of other Elves were witnessing. Thranduil caught the vigorous body, inhaling the fresh scent of verdure deeply. His finger dug into Legolas's back, clutching him tight and close, never wanting to let him go again.

Legolas buried his face under Thranduil's chin, sighed in greatest relief and content. He whispered like a tired traveler finally found his haven, "it is all over, ada. I am free. We are safe now."

**********

That night Wood Elves feasted to celebrate the return of their Prince and the arrival of an honorable guest. The grant dining hall was arrayed with rows after rows of long tables, which were overloaded with scrumptious food and the King's best wine. Anyone could enter the Halls to attend the feast, and by midnight half of the Halls were filled with sleeping drunken Elves.

Gimli was once again beaten in the drinking game, this time lost to Galion. He was already snorting soundly when four Elves tried to move him back to his guest room.

Legolas wasn't able to stop talking to different Elves until midnight, and he couldn't remember how many goblets of wines he had finished since he had to drink whenever anyone toasted to him. At length, he found a chance to escape but noticing Thranduil had long gone from his seat. He tottered along the grand hallways searching for his father, finally beheld the regal figure stood silently on the desolated terrace that overlooked the Longley Mountain. The stary night expanding in front of him, brighter than ever.

Legolas hugged Thranduil from behind, burying his face in the King's silky hair, "you left early."

"I was waiting for you to find me." Thranduil quirked a smile as he turned around, gently raised Legolas's chin, and imprint a kiss on his lips.

Legolas returned the kiss with all his fervor, and the kiss soon kindled the fire of lust and desire. Thranduil pinning Legolas to the rocky wall nearby, where they were hidden by a natural curtain of a waterfall, shielding them from any prying eyes.

"you seem very close to that Dwarf."Remarked the King huskily as he tore off Legolas's belt.

Legolas smirked mischievously, "yes, we are very close. Ah!"

Thranduil gave his cock a punishing squeeze, "and just how close are you?"

Legolas squirmed impatiently under him, not wanting to drop the defiance act anytime soon, "are you worrying that I cheated on you, father?"

"You wouldn't dare." Thranduil sneered as he turned Legolas around, pushing him against the coarse surface of the stones, and pulled down his breeches.

Legolas enjoyed the feeling of under another powerful figure's mercy. He deliberately perked his hips, grinding at the King's crouch, "how about you, ada? Did you have your eye on someone while I was gone?"

"I was busy. And you are talking too much." The King shoved his fingers into the Prince's mouth, teasing the wet supple tongue, coating his long fingers with moist saliva.

"Lick them nicely." Commanded the King augustly, "it is for your own sake."

And Legolas was only too happy to obey. He sucked and licked with all his ardor. His soft, servile tongue engendered tantalizing ember, which enflamed every drop of blood rushing in Thranduil's veins. Ere long Thranduil withdrew his fingers from the delicious mouth, only to thrust his two fingers into another hot wet hole hiding between the plump buttocks.

Legolas braced against the wall, grunted and gasped. Thranduil wasn't about to let him wait too long, for he too was getting impatient today.

It has been one and half years. The distance between them really took a toll on Thranduil. But as Legolas coming nearer to home, all the appalling symptoms of deterioration attenuated rapidly, and by today he felt almost like his old self.

Thranduil entered Legolas not long after the perfunctory preparation, and Legolas was almost crushed against the stone wall. Their heavy, animastic panting echoed in the quiet night, setting the still air on fire. The King soon set on a fast, feverish and domineering pace, slamming into the lithe body relentlessly. Legolas whimpered and moaned and squirmed, his hips moving with the King's pace, welcoming every single thrust.

They reached the culmination synchronously, with Thranduil released deep inside Legolas, and the Prince's essence stained the rocky wall. They panted heavily, disheveled clothes drenched by perspiration and the scent of sex thick in the air.

They didn't dare to linger for long, lest any guards or servants saw their indecent state. They quietly sneaked inside Thranduil's living court and got into the natural hot spring in one of the adjacent caves. Legolas closed his eyes and sighed with relish as Thranduil's fingers combed through his hair, massaged his scalp.

"Ada, you didn't injure yourself in the battle, did you?"

"Only some minor scratches. They are all healed now. "

"Then why are you looking so tired?" Legolas turned around, gentle touching the King's pallid face.

"There has been a lot of work to do since the battle. Many Elves lost their home. I was trying to make a plan to rebuild some villages. But many Elves want to sail west since they have started receiving the call, and there is nothing for them to stay anymore."

Legolas hesitated for a moment, then ventured to say, "ada...I've heard the call, too."

Thranduil gazed at him with an unreadable countenance.

"I heard it when I was near the Bay of Belfalas. It felt...strangely comforting. "

"Do you want to sail west?" Asked King in an even tone.

"Only if you will go to Valinor too. "

"I haven't heard the call."

"I've heard that the longing is dormant in every Elf's heart until they lay their eyes on the sea and hear the songs of the seagulls. Maybe if you come to the shore, then you will hear it."

Thranduil tried his best to ignore the palpitate fear that rang in his heart and maintain his calmness.

Aman was where the gods reside, and unless with their permission, no one could set foot on the sacred land. The glorious Númenóreans, who were corrupted by Sauron, tried to invade Aman under the false belief that setting foot on the Undying Land could grant them immortality. The act infuriated Eru Iluvatar to the extent that he bent the world, separated the sacred land from the mundane lands irrevocably. Unless invited, no ship could reach the Undying Land nevermore.

Elves who were called were the sole exceptions. Valar's benediction would guide the Elven ships reaching the Undying Land through the Straight Road over the great sea of Belegaer. And it would be a one-way trip.

That means if Thranduil was never called, he could not go.

**********

Gimli departed for Erebor after one month, for he had promised Aragorn to bring his folks to help rebuild Gondor. Legolas accompanied him to the edge of the forest, and the Dwarf turned around and gave him a hug, "when do you plan to tell your father?"

"Tell him what?"

"Stop playing dumb! Your promise of helping Gondor to reestablish, of course! Or is it the comfort of home has softened your bone and makes you don't want to leave daddy's side anymore?"

Legolas rolled his eyes, "you are very pushy, you know that?"

"Is this your first day meeting a Dwarf?" Gimli grunted while mounting his pony grumpily, for he never liked riding, "I will see you in Gondor then, my friend."

"Yes, I will see you in Gondor."

"And make sure you steal some of your father's best wine for me!"

"My King will declare war on you for this."

"Worth it!" The Dwarf's rough voice echoed in the morning wind as he was galloping away.

It took Legolas another month to find a chance to express his wish to leave for Gondor again. He didn't want to go, but after seeing the devastated cities and the flame scorched lands and the people's suffering, he felt obligated to provide some help.

He thought he would have an eternity with Thranduil, so it was harmless to spend a few more years helping Aragorn to rebuild his Kingdom, right?

After all, he had no idea that Thranduil's soul was permanently damaged by Sauron's power, and the overextended empathy bond intertwined with the intangible spiritual wounds, making it painful, even dangerous, for the King to separate from Legolas.

Legolas had no idea the bound even existed, no idea that Thranduil had suffered grievously every minute since he was gone. Had he known, he would have made so many different choices.

But he didn't, and the King wouldn't tell.

"Ada...about the resettlement problem...I was thinking..."

Legolas's drawl annoyed the King, so he picked up an apple from the plate in front of him and hurtled it toward Legolas, "just spill it out will you?"

Legolas caught the apple and fumbled it nervously, "I thought maybe we can have a temporary settlement for those who plan to leave for Valinor soon, so we can ease the limitation of our current establishments without wasting too much effort on rebuilding new villages then just abandon them again when everyone sails."

"And where is this new settlement you envisioned?"

"...Ithilien. "

Thranduil furrowed his brows into a scowl, "Gondor. You want to bring our people to Gondor."

Legolas hasten to explain, "not everyone, only those who wish to sail soon but not right away. It is a beautiful forest, you've seen it too. We can have a temporary settlement and help the Gondor people to rebuild their city. Also, Edhellond is not far from Ithilien. We can reopen the ancient Elven haven and build our ships, and whoever wants to leave can sail from there anytime. And I was thinking...maybe you can come too, to walk on the shore and see the great sea." And maybe to hear Valar's call...But Legolas didn't dare to mention it. He had a feeling that Thranduil found that particular topic distasteful.

He knew Thranduil didn't believe Valar would call him because of what they had committed. But since Valar had called Legolas, then why not Thranduil?

Maybe the Gods were not as harsh as they'd thought? Maybe they would forgive or even tolerate their unorthodox relationship for the contributions and sacrifices they had made during the war?

It was exhilarating to envisage that they could sail west together, traverse across the tempestuous sea and reach the beautiful land of Valar.

The sea-longing had been tantalizing the Prince's mind like a mischievous specter, always lucking at the back of his thoughts, whispering, beckoning constantly. He couldn't find serenity anymore, not even when he was promenading under the exuberant umbrages or when he was basking under the watery moonlight.

Legolas half expected Thranduil to be furious or at least peevish. But the King was eerily calm, "when do you plan to go?"

Legolas widened his eyes, "so...do you approve?"

Thranduil answered dryly, "I assume you have made some promises to the new Gondor King, and the Prince of the Woodland Realm should not go back on his words."

Legolas grinned sheepishly, "will you come with me?"

"Of course not. I still have a Kingdom to run." Thranduil rolled his eyes languidly, turning his attention back to the missive he was reading, "but I will visit should the opportunity presents itself."

"Thank you ada! You are the best!" The excited Prince plunged at the King, giving him a feverish kiss while the King trying to save his messed-up missives. However, after Legolas left his study, the blithe charade gradually shattered asunder from Thranduil's visage.

He could tell Legolas about his soul and the empathy bound, and Legolas would surely stay for him. But could he take away his son's chance to live his life and immure him with his own affliction?

It was too pathetic and weak.

Thranduil reclined into the giant oak chair, feeling jaded. He had an irrational, foreboding feeling that he didn't have much time left. Even though the war was over. Even when he was still generally healthy, and Legolas was safe.

Why was he so scared when the worst days had passed?

Above everything, one somber apprehension haunted him the most:

What if he never heard the call?

**********
Ninety years elapsed like a choppy river, never stopped for any chasing steps. The third Age ended with the west-sailing of Gandalf, Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel, along with Frodo and Bilbo. As the white sail gradually faded into the evanescent mist on the horizon, a new age was inaugurated.

For almost a century, Legolas and the Wood Elves built their temporary home in the gorgeous forest of Ithilien, and they exerted their esoteric horticultural art, transforming the dilapidated lands into beautiful gardens and slowly washing away the wounds of war and death.

Legolas had been busy all the time, but he still managed to travel back to Mirkwood every two or three years. He would stay for several months, enjoying his time with Thranduil thoroughly and licentiously, then bade farewell and rush back to the settlement. He frequently met with Gimli and Aragorn, and sometimes they would go ride in the wilderness, just like the old times. Aragorn now had a son named Eldarion, and several beautiful daughters. His hair had turn grey, yet his face was still handsome, his body still lean and erect, like a tall, evergreen pine.

Gimli had established his dominion in the ornate Glittering Caves, and people now called him Lord of the Glittering Caves. He had never married and had no heir, but he didn't care at all. Legolas highly suspected that Lady Galadriel had inadvertently stolen his heart, for the headstrong Dwarf could not love another after meeting her.

While life was generally peaceful and beatific, a tinge of sadness had always clouded Legolas's heart. The majority of Elves had left, and even in his settlement, the population had dropped drastically in the recent several years. Last year when he went back to Woodland Realm, the forest was so quiet that it scared him a little. No more Elven song, no more supple elusive shadows fleeting through the branches, no more jovial laughter among the ethereal mist. Most of the Villages were empty. Ivies and flowers became the new residents of the deserted cottages and temples. After several years there would probably be no more vestiges of Elves left. Hundreds of years later, men wouldn't even remember that Elves used to live in these beautiful woods of Eryn Lasgalen. They wouldn't even know the meaning of the name. Elves would be forgotten as if they had never existed.

Even Tauriel had sailed three months ago.

The world was changing rapidly, and everything he once knew was fading away morsel by morsel, like sand fleeting through a grip. Sometimes when he gazed upon the vicissitudes on his two best friends' countenances, the fear would grow stronger day by day.

But today, he had no fear. Because today Thranduil finally was coming to his settlement.

Throughout almost a century, Legolas had begged his father to visit him repeatedly, but Thranduil always used "busy" as the subterfuge. Now, since the Woodland Realm had only less than one-fifth of the population left, the pretext no longer stood.

The remaining Elves in the settlement were exhilarated beyond describing, for most of them hadn't seen their King for almost a century. They had been busy preparing for the King's arrival, having the chambers ready, gathering the best wine in Gondor and Rohan, and had begun to prepare food from yesterday.

Yet, no one could have competed with the Prince in terms of the level of excitement. He took his father to every garden that he loved, showed him all the magnificent wonders that the Dwarves built. Aragorn held a grand banquet to honor the last Elvenking of Middle Earth, and the King brought the best wine that men had ever tasted. For three days, the whole Gondor was inebriated in a joyful festive ambiance. Both Men and Elves had the best time in a long time of their lives.

On the fourth day, Legolas and Thranduil rode to the ancient Elven port Edhellond. The desolated Sindar haven was reopened since the Wood Elves settled in Ithilien. The imposing ancient ruins were revived by ingenious Elven artisans. The ivy entwined pillars, vine-decorated bridges and pristine palaces, and looming towers were once again gleaming under the sun like unearthed diamonds.

They walked on the sinuous shore, bare feet tread on the soft, fine white sand, the warm seawater brushed against their fair skin, washing away their footprints. Legolas slipped his hand into Thranduil's furtively, peeking at the King's elegant outline blurred in the rosy crepuscular light.

Thranduil was otherworldly beautiful when he stood in the setting sunlight. Legolas wanted to kiss him.

And so he did.

Thranduil roved his eyes around to make sure there was no witness of the audacious public display of affection and then glanced at the Prince, "you should be more careful."

"I don't care. I haven't seen you for a whole year. Can't you just stay?" Since there are not many Elves left...But Legolas couldn't say it out, as if once the word left his lips, the reality would become more real.

Thranduil didn't answer. His gaze extended to the mystic yonder as the salty breeze caressing his face.

Legolas tightened his hold on the King's hand. For Thranduil's skin looked almost transparent under the light, and the Prince was afraid that he would disappear like a cloud of mist the next moment.

"Ada, close your eyes, and listen," Legolas said as a seagull soared over their head, leave long whistles in the crimson dusk, "maybe they are calling you now."

Thranduil did. He closed his eyes and stood at the edge of the world, listening with all of his intentions, all of his piety and earnestness. He could feel the balmy warmth of the sunlight, the profoundness of the choppy waves, and the ancientness of the smell. He stood there motionless as if turning into a marble statue.

Legolas waited and waited. But Thranduil was not moving. At length, the King finally opened his eyes and gave out a long sigh.

"Did you hear it?" Inquired Legolas eagerly and also tentatively.

Ere long, Thranduil slightly nodded, "yes, I heard it."

Legolas laughed, happily and artlessly, a little childish even. He hugged Thranduil tightly, mumbled incoherently, "we can sail ada! We can go to Valinor together! We will never be apart again!"

Thranduil smiled, gently stroked his son's long hair, and only when Legolas couldn't see his face, a sliver of sorrow scudded across his eyes.

"I will sail from the Grey Haven with the rest of our people." Thranduil gently told him, "once I go back, we will depart as soon as possible. Do you want to stay here several years longer?"

"So soon?" Legolas was astonished.

"I had been thinking about it for a while. I thought if I hear the call, then I will leave with everyone. They've all heard the call, and their loyalty to me is the only thing that's been keeping them from leaving. I don't want them to suffer from sea-longing for too long."

"But...I haven't finished some work here..." Legolas contemplated it, but then once again beamed at his father lightheartedly, "yeah, why not? We can meet in Valinor. It will only be a couple more years. We have an eternity."

"Yes." Thranduil whispered, "we have an eternity."

Thranduil stayed for another two days, then he departed for Eryn Lasgalan. Legolas accompanied him and his guards until they've almost reached the hills of Emyn Muil. Before biding their goodbye, Thranduil looked up to the precipitous cliffs, and the image of Legolas rushing toward him on the falling bridge once again entered his mind. He turned around, deeply stared into those Azure eyes, which were also gazing at him with so much affection, as if he was his whole universe.

Thranduil wanted to kiss him, for the last time, but there were guards all around them, so he couldn't.

He stroked Legolas's cheek with all the tenderness and love he had ever possessed. He tried to smile, but the smile was tinged with ineffable sadness.

Legolas thought Thranduil was just sad because of their coming separation. He smiled sweetly, putting his hand over Thranduil's, "already miss me? It is only going to be several years. As you said, a hundred years is a mere blink."

Thranduil answered, "I will always miss you, my green leaf."

Then the King mounted the elk, and they were once again separated.

No one saw the painful, heartbroken expression when the King turned around. No one noticed the gleaming tear in Thranduil's eyes, threatening to fall when the elk broke into a gallop. And even if they did, they wouldn't have understood why. Since it should have been a short separation, and the King would soon be reunited with the Prince in the Undying Land.

But Thranduil lied.

He didn't hear the call.

He tried, he tried day and night for the past century. If listening could be energy-consuming, then he had exhausted all his resources. And that day at the shore, he finally accepted it.

Valar would never call him.

He was not invited.

They wanted to separate him and Legolas to save the younger Elf from the abhorred sin.

Thranduil could still have his son if he told him the truth, and Legolas would indubitably stay with him in this world that no longer belong to them.

But he couldn't.

Eternity is too long. Thranduil couldn't condemn his son with all the coming adversities and despair. He couldn't take Legolas with him on this endless journey of ostracism. Legolas was still young for Elves. He hadn't understood the true meaning and the horror of exile. And he should never have to find out.

Legolas should have a cheerful, opulent, burdenless life. Thranduil would rather die than drag his precious green leaf down to the dark pit with him.

And thus, he chose to die.

He was barely sustaining for all the past years since Legolas had been visiting rather frequently, but now that he had made Legolas believe he would sail soon, Legolas would not come back anymore.

He would gradually succumb to the sickness, fading into dust little by little, all alone in the desolated Palace. And, when Legolas sailed west from Edhellond, Thranduil's soul would be torn into pieces by the vast distance between them.

The last Elvenking would be no more, but at least he knew Legolas would be safe.

Notes:

Yes there will be angst even when we are ending in 3 chapters XD

Chapter 59

Summary:

Heartbreaking

April 1st, FO 120.

The last ray of sunlight was sinking behind the White Mountains, and a thin layer of morose blue gently fell on the tortuous stairs, dappled pillars and decadent domes of the Silent Street. Time was stagnant on these sublime but forgotten palaces of death, and the air was cold and still. The dry, bleak ambiance emanated a sense of finality and eternity, burying all the past glories under layers of ashen dust.

Here was the House of the Kings, where all the Gondor kings were buried.

The sound of light footsteps was inaudible to mortal ears. A grey figure was slowly ascending the stairs. He ventured deep into the Hallows and came to the newest tomb lying on a terrace, looking out the majestic Citadel of Minas Tirith.

The visitor pulled off his hood, revealed lustrous golden hair and a youthful, fair face. Yet his pellucid eyes were tainted by profound sorrow as he drew near the marble coffin, on which the statue of the latest King of Gondor laid.

Slender fingers traced the peaceful, handsome lineament of the statue, brushing off the shriveled leaves that were sent here by the perfunctory wind. The visitor sighed quietly.

"Aragorn," said the visitor, "I come to say goodbye."

A whiff of wind brushed against the fair visitor's cheek as if a gentle hand was stroking his face.

"As you requested, I didn't attend your funeral last month. I heard Arwen is planning to go back to Lothlorien. Almost everyone is gone. I think it is time for me to sail."

"Not everyone, pointy."

A coarse voice echoed behind him. The visitor turned and saw a hoary-haired Dwarf tottering toward him. The Dwarf was very old. The once vigorous auburn hair had lost its vivacity to time, and the sturdy, rough countenance was chiseled with wrinkles. His back was bent, and the steps were no longer steady, yet the visitor could still recognize him right away.

"Gimli!" Exclaimed Legolas.

Gimli laughed sonorously, "I knew I would see you here. I heard you've built your ship, and you will definitely come to say goodbye to your old friends before you go."

Legolas's gaze drifted back to the statue, and his heart convulsed in reminiscent woe, "yes. I'm planning to sail before autumn."

He still remembered the last time he talked to Aragorn. It was a warm early spring night, and the fragrance of the rose garden was fermented in the air like a full-bodied wine.

Legolas loitered next to Aragorn, talking about some random things, and suddenly, Aragorn said, "I have decided to die."

Legolas thought he was making a joke for a moment, but when he saw no trace of a smile, he realized that Aragorn was serious.

"What are you talking about?!"

"My body is becoming feeble day by day, and I can smell death is coming for me. It will take years, and I will gradually become frail and torpid. I do not want Arwen and my children to witness that, and I do not want to go in that way."

"But you look fine! You are healthy and strong!"

Aragorn smiled, and his eyes were so gentle. He gazed at Legolas, his first love, the one he could never have, and the Elf was still as beautiful as he was the night they first met in the tavern.

Aragorn was a twenty-seven-year young man by then, and now, he was two hundred and ten years old.

Yet he could still vividly remember every single detail of that night, of the following decade, of all the audacious impulses and palpitation of his heart, as well as the eventual devastating heartbreak.

He remembered the Elf's smug smile after defeating all those thugs; the ethereal song he sang under the starlight; the incredible stealth when he moved and the deadly skills when he fought; the cold night in the crevice in the ground when they snuggled with each other to sleep; the first kiss under the tree; the confessions; the first lovemaking; the countless nights they spent during the decade following; and the day when Legolas decided to leave...

Where did the time go?

Alas, he still had a life full of happiness. Arwen, the love of his life, had given him everything of her, and yet he would break her heart soon.

"Legolas, my time is up." Aragorn told the Prince in tranquil calmness, "You are immortal. You wouldn't understand what death is like for us. It is long, horrible, dreadful, and relentless. It will take away my strength, my appearance, my resolution, and eventually my mind. As a Numenorean, I have the gift to give up my life before death inevitably claims me. I have had a long, happy, and fruitful life, and I can clutch to life and lose all my dignity at the end, or I can go while I am still me."

Legolas's eyes began to well up, "but...have you told Arwen? What would she think?"

"I will tell her soon. But first, I want to let you know." Aragorn's voice was so soft, and yet it excruciated the Prince more, "I...want to thank you, for staying by my side until now. I know you wanted to sail with your father, but you stayed."

"After all, I made you a promise, didn't I? I will always be by your side until death separates us."

Aragorn put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes, into his soul, "promise me, to always be happy, and always follow your heart. I don't know where I will go after this life, but I will always pray for you."

Legolas couldn't say anything now, something was blocking his throat, and he had a hard time breathing.

He had always known Aragorn would die eventually. All mortals do. But somehow, he didn't know how to deal with it at all.

Why was everyone he cared about leaving?

At length, Aragorn told him, "Don't come to my funeral, don't indulge in sadness. Go, sail west, reunite with your father. You've waited long enough."

And now, the grey ship had been finished. Legolas was really going to leave.

Leaving Middle Earth and never come back.

"Did you bring wine?" The Dwarf asked.

"Of course."

They drank silently while leaning against the King's tomb. As the moon slowly climbing up to the sky, Legolas said, "Gimli, you should come with me."

"You are joking, right?"

"No, I am not." Legolas gazed at him resolutely, "we are the last of the Fellowship, and I am not leaving you here all by yourself. "

"But I am a Dwarf! I'm no Elf!"

"So what? Frodo and Bilbo went there, why can't you?"

"I don't know...what if they don't let me in? I mean, I'm too old to swim all the way back from Aman!"

Legolas laughed loudly, "I'm sure they will let you in, my dear friend. Besides, don't you want to meet Lady Galadriel at least one more time?"

And Gimli went silent.

So the matter was settled. Only ten Elves left with Legolas in the settlement, and they were all ready to leave with him. Gimli made some arrangements to his dominion and arrived at the settlement a month later.

However, Legolas was haunted by some unsettling thoughts recently.

For some unknown reason, a forgotten nightmare was revived. He recollected one of the visions Sauron showed him. The desolated Kingdom, the empty Halls, and the lonely, dying King.

He knew it could not be true, for his ada had sailed thirty years ago. He still kept the last letter Thranduil sent from Grey Haven. But somehow, he couldn't get those images out of his mind.

Eventually, Legolas decided to go back to the no longer existed Woodland Realm one last time before departing Middle Earth permanently.

Gimli, though was not as strong and vigorous as before, decided to accompany him on this farewell journey. They left at the end of May and reached Woodland Realm three months later.

The greatest forest Eryn Lasgalen was basking in the glorious sunlight. Birds were chippering, deers were sauntering, and butterflies were dancing. The familiar trees stretched their strong boughs, swaying elegantly and excitedly, for they hadn't seen an Elf for so long.

Every tree, every flower, every stream...He was so familiar with all of them and yet feeling so strange and out of place. The Elven cottages had mostly collapsed during the past three decades, temples laid in ruin, covered by thick layers of ivies, ferns and mosses. If you didn't know where to look, you couldn't even find most of the relics.

Almost everything was collapsing and decaying, gradually consumed by the force of nature. The forest was beautiful as ever, but the memories of Elves were dissipating.

It was a strange and doleful feeling, being in your home but no longer belong. And the scariest part was, many of those sceneries were eerily similar to the presentiments Sauron had shown him.

No...he shouldn't go down that road...stop thinking...

Legolas hastened his steps, made it harder for Gimli to follow. The Prince looked distracted and scared, and Gimli didn't understand why.

"Legolas, slow down! This is a 262 years old Dwarf here! Not a thirty years old young lad!"

Legolas's anxiety could barely be contained, "the trees are trying to tell me something...They are urging me to go to the Halls."

"Are you sure it's not just in your head? Didn't all Wood Elves sail with your father thirty years ago? The King's Halls would be empty."

"I know... It's just...something is off. I feel like I've seen this..."

"What do you mean...wait!"

The magnificent Elvenking's Halls laid silently under the mountain. It's elongated blue doors were faded and decrepit, sealed by intertwined thistles and ivies. Legolas had to cut his way through. It took him an hour to cleave through every vine that was barring the door, and eventually, as he and Gimli pushed with all their strength, the door opened with a long, strident whine.

It was very dark inside. Without all the lamps to illuminate the vast expanse of the caves, the only source of light would be the sun rays coming from all the holes and windows. They crisscrossed like a glittering net, yet was not enough to overcome the spissated darkness.

Legolas noticed the air smelled different now. Something lively and warm was absent, replaced by the dry, dispassionate scent of dust and emptiness. It was similar to the smell in the Silent Street of Gondor, where all the past Kings and Stewarts rested.

It was the smell of forgotten and desolation.

Yes, everyone was gone. No one could have stayed in this place...After all, even the door was barred by thistles.

But Legolas kept going. He knew every inch of these Halls and could have moved easily with his eyes closed. Gimli followed him closely, occasionally spooked by some eerie screeching noises made by the ancient woods and the stone works as all old buildings had. They traversed across the serpentine bridges to the Audience Terrance in the Throne Room. The tall, regal Throne was sealed by dust, just like everything else.

They went deeper. Legolas's heart was thumping loudly as he drew closer to the King's chamber. And when he put his hand on the doorknob, his hand shooked so violently that he had to try several times before the door gave in.

And then he sighed in relief. The chamber was empty.

Everything was buried by dust, and no one had touched them in a long time. He walked around, taking in every familiar detail, remembering his father sitting on the armchair, wine in hand, or reclining on the chaise reading books.

Noticing Legolas's relief, Gimli asked, "what were you looking for?"

"Nothing... I just had a silly thought...I saw some visions in my dreams and, they are very similar to what I saw outside, so I thought..." Legolas paused, or more accurately, froze.

In the vision Sauron showed him, Thranduil did not stay in his own room...he stayed in Legolas's room.

Legolas burst out of the chamber and rushed toward his own chamber, completely befuddled the Dwarf. Gimli cursed grumpily as he bumped into a table and tried to catch up pell-mell to the crazy Elf.

"Can't you just slow down! Or lit a lamp for Valar sake! I can't see a thing!"

At least the Prince's chamber was not far, and there was more light coming out from that room. Gimli hastily entered and found Legolas stood several steps from his own bed motionlessly, face pale like a ghost.

"What..."

And then he saw.

A steak of light entered from the window illuminated the room. For the past thirty years, vines crawled in from the window and encroached the whole room, spreading their leaves on the walls, the ground, the bed poles, and...someone lying on the bed.

"Who...who is that?" Gimli was dumbfounded and horrified. He prayed to Valar that it was not whom he speculated.

Legolas felt like his blood was frozen instantly. Ere long, he finally moved his feet, getting closer and closer to the inanimated figure on the bed.

It was an Elf. The once silky pale golden hair now dull and grey. The velvety and rosy skin now ashen and hollow. His sublime robe was tattered and decaying. He was melting into this room and this decadent and deserted Kingdom silently. Vines grew over him like a blanket, and the leaves surrounded his still beautiful but lifeless face, dolefully witnessing his fading.

He laid there as if had turned into a statue. And though all the glories and sublimity had diminished, Legolas still had no doubt who the Elf was.

The last Elvenking, Thranduil.

His father, his love of life, who was supposed to have sailed to the Undying Land thirty years ago.

Legolas's mind was completely blank for a long while, then he extended a shaky hand and touched the lifeless hollow cheek.

It was still soft but was devoid of any warmth. And the coldness transformed into a sharp sword pierced the Prince's heart, tearing it into pieces. The pain shook him out of the petrification, and Legolas began to tear off those vines from his father's body hysterically, and he was mumbling, "No...this is not real... You've sailed. You told me you were going to sail! You said you will wait for me in Valinor!!!"

It was a painful sight to watch, and Gimli couldn't help but letting tears pouring out of his own eyes. Legolas pulled Thranduil's body into his arms, trying futilely to wake him up. The Prince's face was a display of incredulity and consternation and was almost as ashen as the King in his arms.

"Ada, please ada. What happened? Please wake up! I'm back! I'm back!!"

The King did not answer. His eyes were closed, and his lips closed. There was no sign of putrification but also no sign of life.

Legolas's world was rivened asunder at that very moment. All the visions of the future, all the yearnings for happiness, all of his imaginations of the eternity with his father, were gone with the wind. Lights diminished in his eyes like candles were put out, as if half of his soul had also died spontaneously.

The Prince clutched Thranduil close to his chest as he rocked to and fro, like a helpless, scared little Elfling. He didn't even know that he was crying, the kind of cry that was out of control in a complete paroxysm as if he was about to vomit out his guts.

No...This was not supposed to happen...They had overcome every obstacle, every impediment, and they had won. The worst day was over, and they were supposed to be together, forever.

Why didn't Thranduil sail with everyone? Why didn't he tell him? Why was he like this?

No no no no no...Legolas couldn't accept this reality. This couldn't be the end. This must be a dream, a bad dream that he had to wake up.

Wake up wake up wake up wake up...Why wouldn't he wake up?

"Please please please ada, don't leave me!!! I can not...I cannot do this! I cannot live without you!!!" He pleaded and pleaded and pleaded, and his voice was broken by spasmodic choking sounds.

At length, Gimli finally mustered up some courage to come closer, "Legolas, please...He is gone."

"No!!! He is still alive. His body is not rigid. See! He is still alive. He is just sleeping!" Legolas roared angrily and was clutching at his father's body tighter.

"Lad...we should let him rest..."

"No...no, you don't understand! He is not supposed to be here!"

"I know...but..."

Legolas's face was contorted by the unbearable pain in his chest, and he knew that his heart was breaking, that this was the kind of pain he wouldn't be able to survive. He inhaled deeply, trying to get a hold of himself. He muttered, "I'm sorry, Gimli, I think I cannot leave with you anymore..."

Gimli's eyes widened, "what do you mean?"

"If he is gone, then I will follow." Legolas focused his gaze on Thranduil's face, "I cannot survive a grief like this."

"What?! No!" Gimli was truly scared, "King Thranduil wouldn't want this! He would have wanted you to live your life!"

"No, you don't understand...I love him."

"I know! We've all lost our parents, and it is painful as hell, but time will heal the deepest wound! Don't do this, Legolas!"

"I said, I love him. Not just as my father." Legolas whispered, and then he lowered his head, and kissed the cold lips, deeply and desperately.

He heard Gimli's gasp, but he didn't care.

"I love him in all the possible ways, Gimli. He is my life. I live for him. If he is gone, then my life is gone." The Prince proclaimed in the most devout but hollow voice, "Do you understand now?"

"No...Lad this is wrong!!!"

"I don't care. "Said the Prince coldly, a dark, morose, and venomous tone underlined his words, "and I curse whoever tries to separate us. I curse them even if they are Valar!!!"

Gimli was stupified by such temerity and profanity. He was speechless, completely overwhelmed by all the rapid developments.

Suddenly, a weak whimper drifted into Legolas's ear.

Legolas jolted, noticing the King's eyelids moved.

All the desperation transmuted into exhilaration instantaneously. Legolas hastily commence calling, "ada! Ada, it is me!"

The King struggled for a while as if his eyelids were heavy as sealing stones. But his eyes slowly opened, and the same sapphire eyes were looking back at his son. His lips quivered as if trying to say something but was too weak to do so.

"Ada! Ada you are alive! Gimli give me your water! Hurry!"

The Dwarf flusteredly unfastened his water skin and handed it to Legolas. Cool, crisp water moistened the King's parched throat, slightly revived his ossified body, yet he was still ashen and dull as if the light within him had waned.

"Legolas..." The King's voice was so weak that Legolas had to listen very carefully to discern the words.

"Yes, ada! It's me!"

"Why...are you here..." Thranduil's brows slightly furrowed, "you shouldn't...be here..."

"What happened? Why are you like this? Did someone attack you?"

Thranduil sighed exhaustedly, "you shouldn't have seen me like this..."

"It's ok, ada. I'm here. You will be fine." Legolas looked at Gimli, "we need to get him to a healer. There is no Elven healer left in Middle Earth, but I think any healer should suffice."

Gimli agreed, "maybe we should get him to eat something first? I still have some Lembas in my bag."

"Yes, you are right." Legolas was about to take the Lembas from Gimli's hand. Thranduil said, "no, there is no need."

The King seemed recovered a little, as a faint tinge of lively color was returning to his hollow cheek, yet he still looked withered, and dying.

"Ada, you need nutrition. You must have been in a stupor for a long time."

"Food and water won't help me." The King gazed at Legolas, ravenously, "It is good to see you one last time, my love."

"What are you talking about! I'm not letting you die on me!"

Thranduil raised a hand, gently caressed the Prince's soft cheek, "you should go. To the west."

"I'm not going anywhere without you!"

"I can't go. "

"Why?! Why didn't you sail? You told me that you are going to meet me in Valinor!"

Thranduil was quiet for a short while, then he admitted, "They didn't call me, ion nin. If I go with you, they won't open the Straight Road for your ship. We will be lost on the sea."

"Then I will stay with you! I won't go to the Undying Land if you are not there."

Thranduil smiled sorrowfully. Legolas's fervent love for him was so otherworldly. It was too pure and fierce and unconditional that he felt underserve of such affection. He shook his head and argued, "stay for what? To watch me die? It is already too late for me, Legolas. I do not want you to witness my fading."

"Why are you fading? You were fine! Why didn't you tell me?!" Legolas was furious and afraid, for Thranduil's words were full of ominous premonition. But at least his father was still alive, and he would find a way to save him, no matter what price he would have to pay.

Thranduil endeavored to prop himself up in an arduous way that even the smallest movement would exert him. He had laid down on this bed for at least twenty years, and he had never thought that he would wake up again.

It pained Legolas to watch his once so powerful father reduced to such a feeble state.

"My soul was damaged by Sauron, permanently." Explicated the King, "it cannot heal. I've tried, Legolas, before Lord Elrod sail west, he told me the same thing. Even if you stay, I will still fade, and you will lose your chance to go to Valinor."

Thranduil didn't tell the whole truth, for he didn't want to let Legolas know about the empathy bond and that his absence would damage Thranduil's soul further. But everything he told Legolas was true, that he was truly fading, and Legolas's return could only resuscitate him temporarily. After thirty year's agonizing suffering, the damage on his soul was too great to recover.

Luckily he only needed to endure the first decade, then he fell into a blessed coma, until now.

Legolas was dumbfounded, and his eyes once again filled with tears.

"So...it was because of me."

"No..."Thranduil cupped Legolas's face in his palms, trying his best to focus and get his spirit up, "it was Sauron, not you. "

"It was all because of that stupid mark I took!"

"And you took it to save me." Thranduil's thin, white lips stretched into a peaceful but also whistful smile, "and it is ok. I've accepted my fate. My only wish is that you will sail west so that I can leave unattached. Will you deny your father his last wish?"

Legolas didn't speak for a long moment. Ere long, he raised his eyes, and they glistened with obstinate resolution.

"No." Said the Prince, "I won't let you die alone. I'm taking you to the Undying Land. The light of Valar can cure your sickness. If they can heal Frodo and Bilbo, they can heal you. "

Thranduil did not expect Legolas to be so strong-headed, "haven't you heard me? They won't let me in! And we will all perish on the sea!"

"Then we go on a separate boat. So we won't encumber anyone."

"Legolas! You have to listen to me!"

"No! This time you listen to me!" Legolas stood up abruptly, and his voice echoed in the room with solemnity, "and I say, we are sailing together!"

Notes:

The next chapter will be the finale!!! Woohoo!

Chapter 60

Summary:

Finale

"How do you plan to catch that elk?" Asked Gimli hushedly while hiding behind a beech.

Legolas, who was furtively leaning against the nearby elm, told him, "who said anything about catching?"

"Then what would you do? Politely ask it to be your ride for like several months?"

"Yeah, that's exactly my plan." Shrugged the Prince.

They came on only one horse, and now since they had to bring Thranduil back to Ithilien, they need an extra ride.

Gimli watched Legolas walked out of the shade of the trees in a plain but non-intrusive way. The puissant elk noticed him right away and raised his tall, proud head. The dark eyes stared at the Elf in curiosity.

Legolas walked toward him while singing a song. His voice was soft and gentle, and the elk clearly liked it. Legolas soon was standing right in front of the beautiful creature, and he extended his hand tentatively, waiting.

The elk nuzzled his hand with his moist nose.

Gimli watched in wonder as Legolas whispered something in the elk's ears, and he just followed the Elf like his best pal. It was not the first time he witnessed the Elf's ability to communicate with animals or plants, but it still looked like some kind of sorcery.

The walk back to the Halls was drenched with melancholy and reticence. After a while, Legolas said quietly, "I can't stop thinking...if I hadn't come back, he would have just die alone in those empty Halls, and no one will know...I wouldn't have been able to come back to find him."

"But you came. And things will be fine."

"Will it?" Legolas's brows furrowed in pother, "he had been suffered alone...for thirty years, and I knew nothing of it...I didn't even know that he was sick. I noticed nothing."

"Come on, Legolas, it's not your fault."

"Then whose fault it is?" Legolas laughed bitterly and sardonically, "and I claim to love him. In fact, all I have ever given him was pain and disappointment."

"Are you done feeling sorry for yourself? " Snapped the Dwarf, "what's the point of dwelling on the past? You have a more urgent matter on hand, don't you? Look, I don't know all this calling thing about you Elves, but I didn't get the 'call' too. Why are you not worrying that I will sabotage your sail? "

"Because you are the same case with Frodo and Bilbo. You are a hero of this world. Even though you are not an Elf, Valar will welcome you. But my father...what we have, it is a great sin. Valar may not take pity on us."

"Then just promise them that you will end...whatever it is with your father!"

"I can't."

Gimli gawked at him. Thought the long years, he had never thought much about Legolas's lack of romantic interest in other Elves, and now knowing the truth, he had a hard time comprehending everything.

Legolas had told him about the story between him and his father last night after the King fell back to sleep. The love, if it was indeed love, was too strong and irrational and toxic and essential for Gimli to understand. He had never seen two souls were entangled to such a degree that either of them couldn't exist without the other. If they were not father and son, it could have been a great love story.

This was all so fucked up.

Thranduil was too weak to mount the elk by himself. Gimli would have to ride the horse by himself so that Legolas could ride the elk with his father. Gimli was very grumpy about it, for it was always strenuous for a Dwarf to stir a horse, but luckily Legolas's horse was very tractable.

Legolas got Thranduil to change into some of his own clothes since the King's robes were all eroded and ruined after laying in desertion for three decades. When Legolas assisted his father stepped out of the decrepit door of the Halls, the son was too bright, and Thranduil couldn't open his eyes for a long moment.

"Ada, how do you feel? Are you warm enough?" Legolas pulled the cloak tighter around the King.

It was a strange feeling to have the warmth scattering on the skin after so many years of coldness. Thranduil raised his own hand under the sun, and his skin was almost transparent.

He was still alive, and Legolas was by his side. It awoke something dangerous within him. Something called hope.

"I am fine." He said as he put his hand on the glossy fur of the elk and the vigorous warmth of life and power made him exhaled in envy.

Could he ever return to the old self, who rode tall and proud on the elk, silver armor glistening under the sun as the banner of his Kingdom flying high in the wind?

Legolas helped Thranduil on the elk, and he sat behind his father to control the rein. Before leaving, the King turned back and took one last look at his desolated Kingdom, at the vine sealed doors and the time-forgotten grant Halls. This would be the last time he would ever set eyes on their home, where he had lost everything and then regained his heart and love. Soon the Elvenking's Halls would only exist in the fragmental lures or in the lyrics of ballads, and no one would ever know all the pain and joy, love and hate, grief and conciliation that used to be so vivid and alive.

They traveled expeditiously, but due to Thranduil's condition, they had to stop from time to time for him to rest. It took them another four months to get back to Ithilien. Legolas told everyone that he and Thranduil would go on a separate boat and thus won't be sailing with everyone. To his astonishment, every Elf insisted on following him and their sick King, to the extent that they refuse to board without both of them. Eventually, Legolas agreed to board the ship with everyone, but they nevertheless carried a yawl.

Therefore on the early morning of a cold December, the gray Elven ship departed from the port of Ithilien and traversed across the last part of the Great River, Anduin, and sailed toward the boundless ocean. Most of the Elves had practiced sailing through the years and were very proficient in operating a brig.

They sailed for ten days, and the weather was in their favor. The wind blew from east to west, and there were not many clouds over their head. Legolas's hope began to rise, as if they could maintain such speed, the ship would reach the Straight Road in two days.

He settled Thranduil in the captain cabin, and for most of the times, the King would be sleeping. It was harder for him to stay awake each passing day, and Legolas knew they were running out of time.

But when he was awake, Legolas would try to keep him in the lucid state as long as possible. He told Thranduil about Aragorn's depart about how fast Eldarion grew up, how beautiful when his gardens were covered by snow, and about the sweetest strawberry he ever tasted. He described everything in detail, and Thranduil could almost taste the fresh fruit, feel the gentle kiss of the snowflakes, and see the greatest Kingdom that was dilapidated by incessant war and blood once again resumed its glory.

"We can have as many strawberries we want in Valinor." Legolas grasped Thranduil's hand and gently kissed his bony fingers, "and there will be wine, too. I bet you miss them badly."

Thranduil chuckled, "yes, I suppose I do."

"And I bet our people have prepared tons of barrels of the most exquisite wine for you, only if Galion haven't drunk them all."

"Then he will be in a lot of trouble."

Legolas laughed and leaned in for a kiss, and he whispered, "we will be fine. It will all be ok, ada."

Gimli evidently had serious seasickness, for he pretty much vomited everything he had eaten for the first three days and was only improved slightly on the 10th day. Legolas felt very sorry and tried his best to comfort him by telling all the stories he heard about Aman, but it helped little.

"Your Undying Land better lives up to the expectation because I will kick your ass if it doesn't. Why did I let you talk me into doing this? I'm too old for an adventure!" grumbled the Dwarf.

However, their luck ran out on the 11th day. A thick dark cloud caught up on them overnight, and the wind intensified at least ten folds, blowing ferociously like the roar of a berserk sea monster. The once serene sea now was raging with choppy ridges of huge waves. White foam crushed against each other, threatening to turn their ship over. Rain poured down relentlessly while lighting ripped the sky open. The sounds of the thunder, the waves and the wind converged into a maddening pandemonium.

It was never heard that an Elven ship had ever encountered a tempest while sailing west. The Lord of Water, Ulmo, would have blessed each ship with his grace, and they should be able to reach Aman without any mishap.

The Elves were scared, for they had sensed the Valar's anger. But they still tried their best to follow Legolas's command, dropped the sails and stirred the ship in between mountain-like tides and cleaved through the waves. All of them were drenched with brackish seawater and the merciless downpour. The water seemed was assaulting from every direction, and they had a hard time to breath without choking.

Legolas's voice was hoarse from shouting, and even his sharp eyes couldn't penetrate the heavy curtain of the pouring rain and splashing surges. Their ship was like a puny leaf drifting on the furious gale, and any wave might going to completely smash them under the surface.

He could see the fear and despair in everyone's eyes, for they all understood the meaning of such calamity.

Valar were angry because they had brought someone that they had rejected. And that someone was not Gimli.

Legolas rushed back to the cabin several times to ensure the water hadn't accumulated too much down there. Luckily the cabin was relatively dry, and Thranduil was still in a deep sleep, and not even this cacophony could wake him up.

Silently, Legolas prayed. All Elves prayed. They begged the Valar to let them pass, to grant them permission to enter the Undying Land.

They struggled for a whole day, and by the second day, the gale showed no sign of abatement. Yet they were very close to the Straight Road, for Legolas could already see the dark shape of a lone island. It was the summit of the sacred mountain Meneltarma, the center and the tallest point of the sunken Kingdom Numenor, which marked the start of the Straight Road. It was believed that if a Numenorean could find the island and stood on top of it, they could still behold a glimpse of Aman.

"We are close! We are almost there!" He tried to encourage everyone, but his voice was greatly oppressed by the ear-splitting crackling sound of the thunder.

Other Elves saw the summit and were all enraptured. They rallied and once again trying to take some control back from the sea. Albeit their best effort, Valar showed no pity on them. Just when they were so close to their salvation, the torrent began to swirling rapidly and abnormally, and their ship once again lost control and was captured by the enormous force of the tide.

In front of their terrified eyes, a monstrous maelstrom was forming, like a giant funnel drilling into the abyss of the ocean. Everything was being sucked in, and their ship was also caught at the edge of the maelstrom. The velocity of the torrent was forcing them to move along the edge like a spinning gyro. Though the speed was not too fast by far, they couldn't escape from the force, and little by little, they would be pulled toward the center of the whirlpool.

The Elves were crying and praying, all capitulated to despair, for they knew all hopes were lost. Legolas and Gimli were the only ones who hadn't completely given up. They tried to stir the ship in futile until the wheel was broken, and there was nothing that could save them.

They looked at each other and saw revelation.

They were going to die.

Death was never too far away from Legolas's life, for he had been visiting the gate of death countless times. But this time, it was harder.

They were so close...

"I guess this is it, lad." Said Gimli in an exceptionally calm voice.

"I shouldn't have boarded this ship...I shouldn't have condemned you and everyone..."

"Well, I would have died in one or two years anyway. It has been a pleasure to accompany you and your father on this final journey." The Dwarf's guileless smile was smeared by the onslaught of rain and seawater, but it was still bright and ingenuous as his smile always was.

But Legolas was angry.

After what they had done for Middle Earth, this was what Valar repaying them.

They fought Sauron, they fought the war, and his father was dying for it. And they still wouldn't help them.

They had forgiven sins as gruesome as Kinslaying, but not the forbidden love.

Then a solemn voice surpassed all the deafening noises and reached each Elf and the Dwarf's ears.

"This is enough. I will leave this ship."

All eyes darted toward the door of the captain cabin, and the King was standing in the pouring rain, yet the raging storm couldn't douse his sublimity. His gaze pierced through the mist of rain and wind and fell on Legolas, and the Prince's countenance paled.

Other Elves were crying and exclaiming, trying to dissuade their King from committing suicide. But Thranduil had made up his mind.

He would not condemn innocent lives by his existence.

"Valar are only angry with me. If I am gone, this ship will be saved." Thranduil's gaze never left his son, and under the imperative tone was a note of pleading.

Legolas, you have to let me go. You know it is the right thing to do.

And the Prince understood the tacit meaning of the gaze.

Ere long, Legolas moved.

He walked toward Thranduil. His expression gradually coagulated into equanimity, and a decision was made.

"You are right, ada. And I'm going with you."

Thranduil's eyes slightly widened, but there was not much surprise.

Of course, Legolas would follow him to anywhere, including destruction. And at this point, he knew it would be futile to try to change his son's mind.

Their fates were entangled, and no one, not even Valar, could separate them.

"No!!!" Gimli exclaimed, as well as other Elves.

"We cannot let you die!" One of the Elves pleaded, "we need our King and our Prince!"

"You will have new leaders of your own choices." Legolas's eyes roved around, looking into each pair of teary eyes, "it has been a pleasure to be with all of you. But this is a journey only my father and I will go on."

"And I!" Gimli insisted, "If you two are not going, then I shall not too!"

"No, Gimli." Legolas looked at him tenderly, with so much appreciation and earnest love for a friend, "as I said, this is a journey belong to my father and I only. You need to go to Valinor to meet with Lady Galadriel and tell our story. You will let our friends there know that we are not afraid, and we have no regret."

Gimli saw the profound meaning gleaming in his Elven friend's blue eyes. And he finally understood that the last moment belonged to the King and the Prince alone, and it would be the most intimate and everlasting juncture of their life, for it would also be their last moment.

And he shouldn't take it away from them.

Tears free flowed on the Gimli's face, and his voice dithered, "you crazy Elf...but yes, I will tell your story, and I will tell them loudly in front of Valar."

Legolas smiled beautifully and gratefully before again focused his attention on his father.

They locked their eyes to each other, and a moment was stretched to a century.

"Shall we go, ada?"

"Yes."

Legolas helped Thranduil got into the yawl, and then he followed in. The Elves gingerly lowered the yawl into the water using ropes, sending them to their ineluctable demise while barely holding back their tears. Gimli leaned against the railing, watching them depart while trying his best not to cry out loud.

Thranduil was right. Not long after their yawl touched the water, the ship was taken out of the maelstrom and carried away by the changing torrent, slowly but definitely scudding toward the summit of Meneltarma.

Legolas snuggled up against Thranduil's chest in the small boat, and his arms surrounded the King's cold, blighted body tightly. Thranduil pulled his son closer, so close as if they were merging into each other's bone and blood. They watched the ship soon disappeared from their sight, and not far away, a strand of sunray pierced through the sky.

They knew the ship had entered the Straight Road.

And now, there were only them left. Two exiled Elves, forbidden lovers, father and son, the King and the Prince, facing the rage of the gods. Their wretched small boat was tossed up and down violently, slowly but steadily pulled toward the center of the maelstrom and would be torn apart by the devastating power of the sea at any second.

But they didn't care. For the world was no longer mattered to them. The gods were no longer mattered to them. For the first time in their lives, they didn't have to hide the secret anymore.

Both Legolas and Thranduil were completely drenched, their long hair stick to their face, and when water began to pour into their boat, it become harder to breathe. Legolas gathered the rope to tie around his own waist and then tied the other end around Thranduil's waist so that they would not be separated by torrents even after the boat was turned over. Not even after they die and sink to the bottom of the lightless abyss.

"We will never be separated again, ada." Legolas lay back to Thranduil's side, and they clutched at each other in their last moment.

Thranduil smiled at him, without sorrow and fear, "I wish we have more time, my love."

"It's ok, ada. This moment is enough for me."

And they kissed, deeply and feverishly. A kiss that outshined all the love and longing and pain in this world. Before a giant wave smote them and everything went dark.

**********

There were lights.

Then there were sounds.

At first, Thranduil wasn't quite sure he heard sounds, for his consciousness was still scattered and diffusive. Gradually, his mind emerged from the boundless voidness and consolidated, and he knew that he indeed heard sounds.

Someone was singing.

The voice was ethereal, beautiful, and familiar. The tone of the song was also familiar and nostalgic. It was a song he used to sing to someone really important to him...but whom did he sing it to?

Shiny, lustrous golden hair; pellucid azure eyes; fresh verdure scent...green leaf...Legolas...

His son, his love.

He needed to find him...

Thranduil realized that his eyes were closed, but his body was extremely heavy and hard to control. He heard someone exclaimed something in an exultant voice but couldn't discern the words.

Then his consciousness fell back to oblivion for a while, then congealed again. This time longer.

The singing was still there, drifting like a distant dream. It soothed his nerves, made him feel safe. But Thranduil still wasn't able to wake up this time.

It took another five or six rounds before the heavy and exhausting feeling finally was lifted from his body. The singing was clearer now, and it urged the King to open his eyes.

So he did.

The singing ceased the moment he opened his eyes, but he didn't notice. For a long while, he wasn't sure what he was looking at as opalescent lights fell into his irises.

It was the sky, dappled with countless silver stars.

"He is awake! " Someone, the one who had been singing, was calling. And Thranduil realized that he was lying in the water. Not the cold and brackish seawater, but a shallow, warm and crisp water that glowed a little.

The air also smelled different. It was clearer, tinged with the pristine and balmy scent of flowers and trees.

He turned his head and saw the one who was entering the shallow pond regardless the water ruined his silver robe, the one who was singing this whole time, calling him back from the void.

Legolas.

Wait...where were they? Were they dead?

They were in the sea and were dying, right?

Legolas kneeled next to him, grasping his hand and cried in joy. The warmth exuded from Thranduil's hand gave him so much relief that he couldn't help but kiss the long fingers, "ada, you are awake!"

Thranduil frowned in confusion as he ventured to sit up. He felt no pain, no discomfort and no exhaustion. His body was once again filled with power and vigor, and his speckless skin glowed healthily.

He was...healed?

He stared at Legolas, bewildered, "where are we?"

Legolas smiled through tears, "we are on the island of Lórellin, in the temple of Estë. We were saved ada, and you have been sleeping for three months."

Saved?

How was that possible?

Before he could ask more, Legolas had lunged at him and hugged him ravenously, splashing the healing water everywhere, "they said you may never wake up, but I know you will come back for me. You always come back for me."

The body in Thranduil's arms felt so warm and real, full of life and exuberance. He exhaled the soothing smell of his son, and the reality was too good that Thranduil felt dizzy.

"We are in Aman?" Asked the King incredulously.

"Yes, we are."

"And not the Hall of Mandos?"

Legolas laughed and straightened himself, and he told Thranduil what happened that day.

It turned out that the Elves from the Woodland Realm heard about their sail and the Valar's verdict of not letting Thranduil enter, and they all gathered outside the Temple of Eru Ilúvatar, entreating Valar to change their mind. Meanwhile, Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and Olórin, the Maia who took the name Gandalf and Mithrandir while he walked Middle Earth, supplicated Valar to recant their decision, for if not for Legolas's resistance to Sauron and King Thranduil's sacrifice for his son, Sauron would have obtained his Ring and ruled Middle Earth.

Eventually, the Goddess of Mercy, the clement Vala Nienna, was moved by the loyalty and compassion of the Wood Elves and the unparalleled love between the two exiled Sindar Elves. She vouched for them first, then the Star Queen Varda, the Master of Dreams Irmo, The Lady of Healing Estë, the Smith Aulë, and the Lady of Earth Yavanna all took pity on them. Eventually, they persuaded all the rest of Valar to recant their verdict before it was too late.

Legolas and Thranduil both lost consciousness when their small boat was pulled out of the maelstrom by Valar's grace, guided across the Straight Road, and arrived at Alqualondë. Thranduil was sent directly to Estë's temple to repair his damaged soul. And Legolas, upon recovering, had never left his father's side. He sang to him every day, calling him back to him, and it worked.

Thranduil gaped at his son, and his head was still fuzzy from all the swirling sentiments.

"We made it, ada." Said Legolas gently.

And Thranduil's eyes watered as the reality finally settled in him.

They were safe.

They were finally safe.

No more doubt, no more fear, no more uncertainty and no more suffering...they were in Valinor. The Valar had accepted them, and they would have an eternity.

He pulled Legolas back into his arms and kissed his lips ecstatically, regardless of other priests in the temple.

The priests insisted Thranduil stay one more night to monitor his condition. The next day at dusk, Thranduil changed into a silver robe and a red velvet gown that Legolas brought to him, and when he walked out of the changing room, Legolas almost burst into tears again.

It has been so long since he had seen his father like this. Tall, proud, regal and powerful. Thranduil had returned to his old self, the mighty King of the Woodland Realm.

As they walked out of the temple side by side, a thunderous cheer inundated them. Every single Elf from the Woodland Realm had heard about the King's recovery and gathered around the Lake of Lórellin, stood serried on the bank, cheering and uproaring in exultation for their beloved King and Prince. Under the stairs, several familiar figures stood, smiling at them.

Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, Gimli, Tauriel, Galion and a handsome silver-haired Maia in a grey robe. Gimli exclaimed happily and gave Legolas a hearty hug. Tauriel and Galion had a hard time containing their joyful tears. And the Lords and the Lady congregated Thranduil's recovery. At length, the grey-robed Maia ventured closer and smiled amiably, almost fatherly, at Legolas.

"Legolas Greenleaf, it has been a long time."

Legolas blinked in confusion as he bowed in reverence, "forgive my ignorance, but have we met, my lord?"

The Maia laughed sonorously, and his form transformed in a second.

He was Gandalf when he was in Middle Earth, but in Valinor, he had returned to his former self, the wisest Maia, Olórin.

Legolas was speechless, for he had never thought that Gandalf could be young. In the Prince's memory, he was always the wise but grumpy elder Wizard.

Gandalf, or Olórin, beamed at Legolas and Thranduil and said, "welcome home, my dear old friends."

**********

A hundred years later, in the new Woodland Realm of Valinor.

The Wood Elves were all running around pell-mell today, for that day was their once-a-year grand Starlight Festival. King Thranduil would host the wildest, splendid carouse of all Elven Realms in Aman, and many Elves from other Realms would gather in their woods to take part in the carnival.

There were so many things to prepare and arrange, yet the Prince of the Realm was currently hiding in the shade of an oak, lying leisurely on a strong bough, trying to draw a singing canary on a nearby branch. Drawing was a new hobbit he picked up in the recent years, as there were no Orcs in Aman and thus no need to fight any battle anymore. He still practiced his fighting skills with other warriors every day, but he had to divert some of his energy on other avocations.

"Stay still, will you? I can't capture your shape if you keep changing your posture!" Legolas belabored the bird. The canary was not impressed, and after returned an insult in it's crisp voice, it actually turned its butt toward him.

Legolas huffed and rolled his eyes, then he heard a voice coming from the ground, "Legolas, what in Valar's name are you doing there! I've looked you everywhere for an hour!"

Legolas flusteredly poked his head from the leaves and saw Thranduil stood under the tree, arms crossed, beautiful countenance scrunched into a scowl.

"Um...I was taking a break from all the preparations."

"Taking a break? Galion said he hadn't seen you the whole day! Now get down!"

Legolas climbed off from the tree agilely while having a cheeky smile on his face, "I arranged everything yesterday. They can totally finish the rest of the preparation without me."

"As the Prince of Woodland Realm, you should be present and welcome all our guests. Are you trying to avoid Elrohir again?"

"Ada, he is an extremely annoying and unpleasant Elf. He taunts me every time!"

Thranduil sighed unimpressively, "you are puerile."

"What?! He was the one who started it!" Then Legolas realized just how puerile that sounded.

"Legolas, his twin brother Elladan chose a mortal life and stayed in Middle Earth, and Lord Elrond hoped some old-time companions would cheer him up. You should show more compassion, ion nin."

"Ada...you are the last person who should nag me about compassion."

"What does that supposed to mean?!"

"You are not exactly a very compassionate being..."

Thranduil squinted his eyes as he drew near to his son. The dominating aura emanated in full scale.

"Be careful what you say, young Elf." The King's looming height shadowed Legolas, forcing him to back up until he was cornered to the tree.

However, Legolas LOVED when his father was mad and cornering him like this.

"Exactly when was I not compassionate?"

Legolas swallowed hungrily, "like now."

"How am I not being compassionate now?"

"You look incredibly gorgeous in this robe, and yet you are talking about Elrohir rather than kissing me and taking off my clothes."

Thranduil's lip corner raised slightly, forming a devilish smile, "then we will have to fix it."

Two hours later, when they both came out of the woods with slightly disheveled clothes and hair, the last sunlight was sinking behind the mountains, and the early stars had begun to shine. Half of the doom was tinged with florid burning colors, and the other half was dominated by star-filled night. Yonder, the ethereal singing echoed under the breath-taking sky, submerging everything in a timeless sense of peace and tranquility.

It had been a century, and yet on the Undying Land, it was not always devoid of imbroglios among different Elven Realms. Not all Elves had accepted the forbidden relationship between the King and the Prince of the Woodland Realm, and some of the Realms shunned them overtly.

Lives in Aman was not always happy and lighthearted, nor without worry, sorrow, anxiety or conflictions, but right now, when standing next to Thranduil, their fingers interlaced, Legolas knew that their love would overcome any forthcoming obstacle.

Because they are each other's eternity.

The End

Notes:

I've finished it! Thank you so much for everyone to come with me on this trip. I had so much fun writing this story. There may be some short one-shot sequels, but I am not 100% sure. This is my first attempt to write fiction in English, and I really like the experience. You are all so awesome and supportive that I couldn't have finished such a long story without you. My next ambition is to write my original fictions in English and probably will post them on other platforms in the near future. As for fanfictions, if new ideas come to my mind, I will definitely come back soon :D.

Thank you again for supporting me. If you have finished this tale and like it, would you please kindly leave me a comment if it is not too much trouble? Writing could be a lonely journey sometimes, but comments are always a great cure. I have been greatly encouraged by all the comments, and I'd love to hear from you.

Update: I opened an account on Wattpad and may post my original work there soon. If you like my work please come visit me :):https://www.wattpad.com/user/AnUncannyRabbit