Just a Simple Mistake (LOTR General Fanfiction)

Chapter 3: Fear

Beta: Aranel

Disclaimer: I own only the plot; Tolkien though was the one that created the great world of Middle Earth. I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of the story.

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 Legolas wandered through the wilderness in shame of what he had done – the shame as the words of Lord Elrond and even his friends ate at him from within.

He felt so alone, so cold from those words the very people he called his friends threw callously at him.

The anger ruling his soul was raging stronger and he tried to find ways to busy himself. He tried to push away the guilty need to kill some orcs in exchange for some measure of relief, and perhaps some peace so he could ride back toward his homeland.

As he went through the shadowed woods, orcs began to appear, and Legolas mindlessly hacked at them, slaughtering more and more orcs, not noticing as day became night and night returned to day. And in this manner, a week or two flew by.

Legolas was growing tired, his clothes were soaked in dirt and the orcs' filthy blood, and yet he only felt wearier as the guilt still engulfed him and gripped him deeper and deeper in its merciless grasp. He stared at his crimson sword as the scene of what happened on that day started to haunt him once again.

He rode into the night, toward the borders of his homeland, not knowing what he should be expect anymore; the reminder of what Elrond said about how ashamed his Adar must feel – that only sent shivers down his spine.

The guards soon hurried over to the palace and came to him in fear that he was hurt. He could not blame them – he was definitely not in a flattering condition.

He stopped his horse once he noticed another elf talking with his Adar. When he saw the attire upon the unfamiliar elf, his heart started beating harder and faster.

'Has Elrond decided to take it this far?' Legolas thought, his eyes locked on the scene before him.

"Ion-nin," Thranduil called distractedly, missing the hints of the hidden pain as he felt his son come, "Come over here, I wish you to meet someone."

Legolas walked his stallion at a slow pace, not daring to ride any faster toward his Adar and the uncertainty of what he would do.

When he finally dismounted from his horse and walked toward the elves, he could not find the courage to look up and meet their gaze.

"This is Estrus; he is a messenger from Imladris…" Thranduil started to say, only to notice that the color instantly drained from his son’s face.

The king immediately feared for his son. He hoped that his son was feeling alright, though, looking at the crimson on the prince' clothes, he feared that his Greenleaf was hurt as well, but was keeping it all hidden.

"Are you all right, ion?" Thranduil asked with concerned.

Legolas ignored his father's question as his eyes remained locked on the messenger. Why was he here?

"What message have you brought from Imladris?" Legolas asked.

The elf stared at the prince, and found it hard to break eye contact with him. He finally replied, "The message must be given to the king alone."

At that, Legolas walked off, straight to the palace, not exchanging any words with his father or the other elves.

Thranduil wondered about his son’s attitude. He wondered what had happened. He turned toward the messenger hoping to know more that might explain.