Unspoken ( A Legolas Love Story )

2.21: A Father

Few things amused the king of the Woodland Realm these days, ruling over his domain in particular. Life had become somewhat stale for the elven lord, a condition which one might have anticipated, given that he had lived for over six thousand years; although the last three had worn on him in particular. Reclining upon his throne, Thranduil turned his staff slowly round and round in his hand. Watching the amber in its tip, glint dully in the torchlight, the elf king's expression betrayed no emotion.

About a year ago, his subjects had received some respite from the King's truly unfettered bouts of wrath, that were then increasingly commonplace. It was no secret, that a marked improvement in the King's mood begun on the same day that Thranduil received a mysterious letter along with a visit from the former Captain of the Woodland Guard. But any positive resolution from that day had since waned and faded; his servants knew better than to approach the throne at times like this. It happened often now, that the Thranduil would sit and stare at something or nothing for hours upon end. Some had witnessed such behavior in the King many years before, long ago. It was the beginnings of a melancholy more formidable and dreadful than even Thranduil's most fearsome rages.

A horn sounded from the direction of the front gate, echoing throughout the cavern before being repeated. It was the signal that the guards at the door had just admitted someone of import, but Thranduil did not look away from the slow turning of his staff; he was expecting Tauriel any day now with her annual report from Dale and Erebor.

At this particular moment, Thranduil did not feel much like discussing the latest shipment of ores, although it would admittedly be a break from the daily monotony that loomed relentlessly in front of him. Steeling himself for what would undoubtedly be yet another verbal fencing match with the fiery-haired former Captain of the Guard, Thranduil slowly let his gaze slide to the walkway before the throne. At first no one appeared, even at a distance as his sharp eyes scanned the length of the path. Frowning, the elvenking sat forward slightly and lowered his staff across his knees. He thought he sensed something different, something or someone he had not sensed for a while. A lone elf rounded the corner at the far end of the walk way, their rapid pace confirming that something was indeed afoot.

The guard was very nearly running, as he approached the throne, bowing low the guard spoke.

"Aran nín, it appears that..."

Whatever the guard was saying, Thranduil did not hear it. For at that instant, the King had eyes only for the person who was now drawing nearer with every step along the walkway. Legolas had always had his mother's bearing about him, even from his early days. A clatter echoed all around the cavern, and Thranduil vaguely realized he had dropped his staff to the floor. Totally ignoring the guard who was still attempting to announce the prince formally to his own father, Thranduil descended the curving stairway from his throne, as if in a dream.

He stopped at the base, with the sudden realization that his son was indeed, not alone. A queer gathering had seemingly followed him in. The petite, dark-haired ranger was there, defiant, just as Thranduil remembered her. But more surprisingly, there was not one but two children with the couple; they all climbed the stairs together and stopped several paces away from the elvenking. Thranduil dismissed the guard and took a moment to absorb the spectacle of the young family that stood before him.

Suddenly Legolas called out sharply, "Oropher!" As a young curly-haired child with dark-brown eyes bolted from Legolas's side.

The child came to a halt, right at Thranduil's feet and stood open-mouthed staring up at the elvenking. He seemed almost enamored with Thranduil; in all likelihood because he had never before seen someone who so much resembled his own father.