An arranged marriage could solve everything: Legolas' post-war melancholy, Lasriel's dream of freedom and a family, her mother's exile, King Thranduil's dark secret. But turning childhood friendship into love is not as easy as they thought - and nei...
~Legolas receives a request and tries to figure out why his father so badly wants an heir.~
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"The heart is not so easily changed but the head can be persuaded."
– Pabbie, Frozen
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4. Persuaded
He felt more than a slight tingle in his fingers; in fact, the surrounding forest was starting to spin a little. Glancing at Gimli's slumped form beside him, Legolas couldn't help chuckling silently to himself. The dwarf was resilient but wine from Dorwinion was exceptionally potent.
For his own part, Legolas was pleasantly drunk; just enough to numb his senses and make him think happy thoughts. It was a fine balance between that state and having so much he became melancholic.
This was a good place to have a drink in. The feast area was still abandoned so they had the clearing to themselves, and after the night's rain the air smelled nice; damp earth mingling with the tangy scent of pine. He drew in a deep breath. It was good to be back in the forest. Good to be home – though, to him, any forest felt like home.
A lone figure emerged from the direction of the palace and made his way between the tables, heading straight towards Legolas in a determined stride. His father, of course.
"There you are, finally!" Thranduil exclaimed with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I looked all morning."
For some reason Legolas found that very funny and had to bite his lip to contain his laughter. "We wanted fresh air," he replied.
"Mmm, fresh," Gimli muttered into his beard. His head had fallen forward and was half covered by his helmet. Even now, in peacetime, he wore it all the time.
Thranduil sniffed the air, dark eyebrows drawing together. "Have you been drinking? At this hour?" He eyed their now empty cups.
His badly hidden displeasure was hilarious too. Struggling to maintain a serious face, Legolas replied: "I had promised Master Gimli we would share a few cups but the rain put a stop to it. So we returned today."
"Returned, aye." Gimli tried to focus his eyes on Thranduil. "My king, I must compliment you. The wine you serve is deschil– delishy– uh, lovely."
"Thank you," he replied curtly. "Legolas, I need to speak with you. Preferably in private?"
"Oh, I don't keep secrets from Gimli." He patted the dwarf's back. "We are friends. What do you want to talk about?"
After a brief hesitation, his father replied: "Heirs."
"Heirs?" Legolas peered at him, feeling the pleasant tipsiness wane. "As in... your heirs?"
"Precisely." He sat down on the bench beside them, steepling his fingers in a businesslike manner. "My heirs. The ones I do not have – apart from you, of course."
