When a darkness spreads across Mirkwood, a mighty elven kingdom is robbed from its bliss. A once vibrant people hides behind the walls of their kingdom and the forest grew into a bleak and uneasy place.
The other realms suspected Thranduil of being...
Legolas bursted through the gates of his kingdom. His white-blond hair stuck to his young face and his shoes sopping, wet footsteps followed him in his wake. The guards looked at him in concern, but he ignored them.
Leagolas gritted his teeth. How could the dwarves have escaped? That had never happened before and certainly not with a dozen of dwarves, that were now drivting in barrels accross the river towards Esgaroth and out of his reach. Legolas growled at the memory of their grinning faces, mocking him from affare.
The young prince stopped before the ancient spiral staircase, which rose meters up to a platform. Up there, the king was waiting for good news. Now Legolas could only hope that he would be understanding of the situation.
With bated breath Legolas walked up the stairs. His feet slowed down the more steps he left behind him, and when he reached the top and saw the base of the throne, he hestitated to instead turn around immediately and accompany the dwarves to Esgaroth. At least then he would'nt have to see the look of dissapointment in his father's eyes.
'Father,' he spoke softly. 'I lost sight of the dwarves.'
Thranduil looked down from his throne, placed on a elevation so high Legolas had to raise his chin to look him in the eyes. The elvenking raised a brow. Was it surprise? Interest? Pity? Legolas had doubted whether he should have gone after the dwarves, but with the army of Orcs hot on his heels, he knew he wouldn't be able to fight them off alone and had returned to the palace.
The king had not moved, except for the gentle drumming of his fingers on the wooden armrest. His slender finger stroke the pale skin of his chin and his pale blue eyes stared at him, thinking. The tone of his voice was calm as he spoke, but harsh enough to startle Legolas for a moment when the silence surrounding him was broken. 'You gave it your all, Legolas. No one could have predicted that the dwarves would escape our dungeons. It's not your fault.'
It sounded reassuring and that gave Legolas new courage. 'What is your command?' Legolas followed his father as he calmly stepped down from his throne, every step he took as gracious as a swan.
'Nothing.' The king wrapped his robe gracefully around his feet.
The young prince bowed thoughtfully, but made no attempt to leave. He looked up at Thranduil again. "Father?
Thranduil did not speak, but merely looked at his son with anticipation and raised his eyebrows interestedly. He had always been a man of few words, but Legolas was familiar with his body language.
'Your conversation with the dwarf...-' He paused, searching for the right words as the scene from a few hours ago haunted his mind again. How his father had stood before the dwarven king, Thorin Oakenshield, and offered him his aid in exchange for something kept under the dragon's gruesome clutches, jewels of pure starlight. Thorin Oakenshield had bluntly declined the elven king's help.
Legolas took a deep breath. 'You spoke of white jewels of pure starlight.'
A shadow fell across his father's face. Thranduil was not a man of possessions, expensive jewels or gold. And yet he was willing to sacrifice men and send them into the mountain where a dragon of the North rests. 'Why do you desire these jewels?
Thranduil heaved a languid sigh, which seemed to come from deep, as if he had long expected it. He calmly raised a hand, turning around. 'Those are not your concerns.'
'Those are my men whom you were about to send away with the dwarves. My men whose lives you put at risk. I have a right to know why these jewels are more precious than their lives.' Before Thranduil had a chance to speak, Legolas continued. 'Are they our heritance? What makes them so important to you?'
Thranduil looked at him, lingering for a moment. Blue eyes, royal as the deepest seas, keeping secrets under its crashing waves. Legolas never dared looking through the surface.
But he saw a different kind of pain in his father's eyes when the king spoke of the jewels. A grief so deeply grounded in his soul that he had never spoken of it with Legolas. And there was only one thing his father never talked about. His heart was pounding against his chest. 'Were they Mother's?
Thranduil's eyes widened. He remained motionless on his throne, staring at him, but without seeing him, as if he were a mirage. Thranduil walked up to him resting his hands on Legolas' shoulders. 'I deprived you of the truth for a reason, Legolas,' he said in a calm and cool tone, 'I did not want to harm you, as was done to me all those years ago.'
'I do not want to open old wounds, father.' Legolas grabbed his father's arms. The firm fabric of his sleeves felt rough underneath his fingers. 'But I no longer wish to live in ignorance. Share your pain with me.'
A hint of a smile slipped across his lips. Thranduil nodded calmly and with his eyes closed, as if making a bow to his son. 'Good. You have the right to know your past and the past of your kingdom.'
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