Agony • Concealed Memories | | Thranduil

19 • Forgiveness

Thranduil fell silent and lowered his eyes, not daring to look at his son. The shame he felt for having abandoned his son all those years still gnawed at his soul. Not a day went by that he wished he could redo those years, teach him to shoot bow and arrow, use a sword and how to travel in style. He had wished the gardens were alive and the gates open, but it was as if his wife's death had taken a piece of his soul with it. Her body he had never found and the nightmare of how the dragon had torn her apart continued to haunt him every night. Even more so was the fear that he would forget her face, the sound of her voice, the feel of her touches. Every day he brought back those memories so he would not forget.

Thranduil had tried his best to be a good father, raising him the way his wife had wanted, and Legolas had blossomed into a reflection of his father, with his mother's eyes and kindness. The prince was a fighter, a leader and a warrior who always wanted to make his father proud. Thranduil could not have wished for a better son and was sure that when the time came, he would become an exemplary king.

'Ada,' the prince spoke and Thranduil finally looked up. To his great surprise, there was no disappointment in the prince's eyes. No, there was something he had not seen in years: forgiveness and compassion. His eyes, already so similar to his mother's, now not differed from hers in anyway.

For a moment, the king felt a fierce urge to turn his face away from him, but he could not tear his gaze away from those eyes. He resembled his mother in so much.

'I miss her too,' Legolas said, 'every memory I have of her I cherish and after all these years I still hope that she will come home again, even though I know it will never happen.'

Thranduil looked at his son with wide eyes. There were no words to describe how he felt. All this time, he believed Legolas barely remembered anything about his mother. But to hear now that he still missed her, after all these years, was heartbreaking. Thranduil was always afraid that the prince would start forgetting the sound of his mother and, in the process, everything she had taught him, but nothing now made him believe that this would ever happen.

Thranduil pulled his face back into crease, as he always did when he wanted to shut out the world again.

'You need have no shame, Ada,' Legolas then spoke. 'The whole kingdom misses her and they all sympathise with you,' he continued, 'and so do I. It is not pity, it is compassion. I too had to pass the days without her, asking myself what happened to her, what you refused to tell me.' He heaved a deep sigh and Thranduil remembered all those days when he had seen Legolas staring out of the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mother.

'As I got older, I understood that she had died in battle, but even that did not give me closure. I was never able to say goodbye to her.' Legolas lowered his eyes and stared at the ground.

Thranduil felt a pain in his heart on hearing Legolas' saddened voice. He walked towards him and held his shoulders tightly. 'If there was anything I could have done, I would have,' he said. 'My priority was getting you to safety and so was your mother's. She was a warrior just like you and nothing was more important to her than your life.'

Arms were wrapped around his chest. And for the first time in ages, Thranduil could smile genuinely. Neither could remember the last time they had hugged, let alone had a conversation about anything other than strategies and war.

Thranduil released his son and looked at him. 'I have something to show you,' he spoke and walked past the prince down the stairs. Without asking any questions, Legolas followed his father down the stairs and through the palace to the gardens.

The king opened the doors and walked outside, where evening had fallen and the plants looked even grayer than they did in the sunlight. Thranduil walked past the moss-covered fountain and flowers that were overgrown with weeds, past some overgrown bushes and stepped aside. The tree that rose from the ground there was a splendour to the eyes, with purple flowers hanging down in strands that almost seemed to shine in the moonlight. The air felt warmer, like standing in a summer sun. His eyes followed the trunk up to the top of the tree and when the wind played with the leaves, they rustled gently.

'I can feel it,' Legolas said bemusedly, walking forward and placing his hand on the trunk. 'The energy and life.'

Thranduil put his hand on Legolas' shoulder. 'Your mother told the truth when she said the plants were connected.' He put his other hand on the trunk and closed his eyes. 'The day your mother had died, this tree grew up from the ground.' He sniffed deeply once and remembered the day he strolled dejectedly through the garden and stumbled on the tree, as if the wind had called to him.

'How can that be?" asked Legolas and Thranduil smiled, but even before the king could answer, the forest did so for him. Rustling sounded among the bushes and the two looked back. Neither of them had any inclination to draw their swords, as if they already knew what was coming.

From the bushes stepped a stag, a stag as white as snow and eyes golden as the sun. In amazement, the elves remained standing and stared at the animal. The stag snorted once quietly. Its white antlers were even bigger than Eltihien had described and its fur was so brilliantly white that even the moon would be dwarfed by it. Thranduil smiled and made a respectful bow. The animal did the same and then slowly stepped in their direction. Right in front of Legolas, it stopped and stared at him expectantly.

Legolas stood as if frozen, but as if out of control of his body, he reached out his hand and touched the animal's nose. A warm glow slipped through his body and he heard his mother's voice through his head. Her sweet singing, which he had listened to every night before falling asleep. But as quickly as it appeared, it also disappeared again as the deer turned away from him and ran off into the forest. A tear slid down his cheek.

 Thranduil looked at his son and he knew that The White Spirit of the Forest gave his memories of Elithien to Legolas. The day she had been lost in the forest, with only her unborn child as company. She had sung to him and soothed him while she herself had been terrified. It was that memory that Thranduil knew neither he nor Legolas would ever obtain, and now it was in Legolas possession; a memory of a mother's love for her unborn son.

Thranduil laid his cheek against Legolas' head and closed his eyes. 'Your mother may no longer be with us, but her soul still roams here. She watches over us, Legolas, and she always will.'