Fathers and Sons

Chapter 20

"My father thinks coming here was a mistake," Legolas lamented to Drizzt as he leaned over the stone balcony of the cylinder tower lounge area that Galadriel had provided for them during their stay. A pair of elves moved forward, handing out trays of strange green leafy horderves as the two of them gazed out at the fading sun high over the tree canopy.

Drizzt winced, tears forming in his eyes. He still wasn't used to the surface and that blinding ball of light, but even as he sat on the edge of the soft chaise lounge behind his troubled elf friend, he couldn't help but feel invigorated by the sight. It stung, surely, but it was worth every moment of pain.

"I think your father doesn't want to admit his affection for you," Drizzt suggested as Legolas gazed out at the trees. "Because something has wounded him and he is afraid that if he allows himself to feel... anything, he would allow a crack to form in his defenses. Defenses that he has kept up for so very long."

Legolas scoffed at that as he turned, his blue eyes meeting Drizzt's purple ones. "Strange how a stranger to these lands who has known me for only a short time could read Thranduil so clearly and so accurately. Better than his own son."

Drizzt smirked, offering his friend a shrug. "I have often wondered what it would be like to have been given affection by Malice," he admitted. "My mother. I wondered as I served her will, a pawn in her many schemes. Could it be possible that there could be even a sliver of affection for her son buried under her facade of evil cruelty?"

Legolas regarded the dark elf for a moment. Drizzt worried if he had said something wrong. He certainly wasn't trying to compare Thranduil to Malice. The two were nothing alike. The only thing Drizzt had received from his mother was the cold strike of the back of her hand, or the burn of that terrible snake whip she wielded, using it to keep him subservient and in fear.

Despite his aloofness with his own son, there was no way that Thranduil could ever treat Legolas in such a manner. The difference was that Drizzt was certain that Thranduil cared for his son. That he had only buried such feelings. There were no such feelings in Malice Do'Urden, Drizzt was quite sure of that.

"He would have died if I had sat there and done nothing," Legolas spoke again after a long pause. He turned his attention back to the scenery before him.

"Now that he's here, where does our road lead?" Drizzt asked. It was an honest question. He and his own father were strangers in this land, the entire continent. This Middle Earth was unknown to them. They were following Legolas wherever he may lead them.

Isn't that what friendship was? Isn't that was affection and love was? After all, Zaknafein had sacrificed for him before, giving up his own life to save Drizzt. Drizzt knew no one else in Menzoberranzan would ever do such a thing. His father loved him.

He felt sad that Legolas didn't have the kind of relationship with Thranduil that he had with Zaknafein. And he felt determined to help his friend find that sort of affection.

"Galadriel told me that her healing was temporary," Legolas explained. "I believe the answers and the cure to his ailment is in Gundabad. And possibly, beyond. I must travel there and see for myself." He met Drizzt's eyes, the drow saw determination there. "This is my quest. I do not ask you to risk your life for me."

"We will follow you and help you save your father," Drizzt insisted, reaching out to grip Legolas on the shoulder, giving him a look of reassurance. "I fear no orc."

Relief and gratitude spread across Legolas's fair face. "I am grateful," he said. At that moment, Zaknafein entered the room.

"Drizzt," he bade, and the two young elves turned to him. "There is someone I would like you to meet."