In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, Thranduil finds the world within his Halls empty. He struggles to come to terms with the absence of his only child and the loss of the one he raised as if she were his own daughter. He begins to r...
Failing in his pleas to dissuade his father from his decision, Legolas now struggles with the past and his fear of losing his father forever. Haunted by the prophetic words of Lady Gilaiwë during his search for Tauriel, he braces himself for a crown that like his father, he does not want. Driven by the fear of losing the only one she knows she will ever truly love, Tauriel lashes out in anger, refusing to accept Thranduil's decision.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Nearly hurling himself down the stairs in an older portion of the fortress, Legolas made his way toward the former royal chambers. Now abandoned for the most part, save a small sitting room where he knew he would find his father. It was his private sanctuary, a place he would go when there was something heavy weighing upon him.
"Is he in there?" He asked the sentinel at the door, his tone guarded as he marched into the small antechamber.
"He was very strict in his orders, hîr vuin. (My Lord) He is not to be disturbed for any reason." Lieutenant Tërÿani stated, stepping forward quickly to intercept the young prince.
"I will speak with my father. If you do not let me pass I will make such a ruckus even the dead will rise." Legolas stated far more calmly than he felt as he met the sentinels' gaze with a steel will of his own.
"Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin." (As you wish, my lord). Lieutenant Tháëdrâs sighed heavily, stepping aside from the door. His shoulders drooping notably as he nodded, his gaze flickered quickly toward Tërÿani in resignation.
Startled, Thranduil frowned as he turned toward the sound of the heavy wooden door swinging open. A soft yet audible sound escaped his lips, his breath caught in his throat as the slender figure of his son stepped purposefully from the shadows of the small entryway.
"Legolas!" He exclaimed, sounding almost breathless as he sprang from the comfort of the worn and tattered leather chair. His long legs quickly clearing the distance between them.
"Why did you leave Imladris?' He asked quietly, pulling his son tightly against him. Closing his eyes against the slight sting of the tears that threatened. The heaviest weight of what lay before him had been the fear that he would never again see his son again should he fail in his task.
"My reason does not matter Ada." (Informal Father) Legolas answered, his arms instinctively embracing his fathers' taller, slightly larger frame as he buried his face in the warmth of his neck. Breathing in the familiar aroma of sandalwood mingled with the distinct scent that was his fathers' alone, he felt only somewhat comforted.
"Träëliôrn informed me of what has happened with Tirithiáël." Legolas choked past the lump in his throat, feeling the sting of his own tears threatening. "I am sorry Ada. This is all my fault."
"No ion nîn." (My son) Thranduil sighed softly as he stroked his sons' hair gently. "The fault is none but my own." He continued quietly, pressing his cheek against his sons' temple. "There is nothing to blame but my own selfishness."
