Chapter XIX: Mirkwood (Pt. VIII)
“After a night spent deep in thought, I left my study and walked down the hall toward my chambers. Directly in my path stood Legolas speaking with Elenadar, Elenatar and Tarthôn.
“I hope to be able to join you on a hunt,” I heard him say enthusiastically.
“If Ada allows you out of the front gate,” Tarthôn began, “I will take you up on your challenge.”
“What challenge is this, dare I ask?”
As soon as I spoke, the group quickly bowed.
“Legolas,” I asked? “What is your brother speaking about?"
“Tarthôn says he can kill more orcs than me, Father,” Legolas said smiling at me. “I disagree with him, of course.”
I gave him a sharp look. He had not even heard my decision and already he was full of anticipation for my answer to be permissive. I looked at both of them for a time—glaring intensely the two young men that once clung to me tightly as children.
“You realize, Legolas, that Tarthôn has more experience at fighting the real thing.”
I continued my way then stopped. I turned back and looked at my sons. Legolas looked down as he were ready to cry.
“If I were you, I would spend today in practice and tonight in rest if you are to join him and the others on the hunt tomorrow.”
Legolas lifted his head—his face had the largest smile I had ever seen. Perfect, as his mother’s. He nearly ran to me.
“Thank you, Ada,” he said quietly. “I will not fail you.”
“I know. You never have.”
He bowed and returned to his friends as I continued down the hall, worried whether tomorrow I would still have an heir.
“You will, Thranduil,” I heard a familiar voice said. “I would not worry about him.”
“Eldôr,” I said surprised. “You startled me, Uncle.”
“Many apologies, Thranduil. Your mother and my wife have made it safely to Mithlond, but I thought it better to return. It was best for me not to go into the Undying Lands quite yet. Especially when I heard of the news of the unfortunate change of our identity from out of Lothlórien.”
“Yes, it was unfortunate,” I said angrily. “Whatever reasons for it, you will never see me turn my back against the wind even if it were to blow from our own kin. I have a kingdom to rule whether by Eryn Galen or Mirkwood it is called.”
“You are very much your father’s son,” he said. “Oropher would be very proud.”
We walked together toward the great hall as I would begin a new day. Somehow, I began to feel our people were going to rise from this darkness we had known anew.
The following morning, I anxiously watched Legolas leave the palace to protect the kingdom with many other elven warriors.
“I know your fear, Thranduil,” Fëaluin said. “I feel the same every time I watch my sons leave. It is a feeling that will never go away.”
“They are with Nimlos, Elmîr and Elranduil,” Eldôr said. “They will return.”
As he turned, a beautiful two beautiful young elven maidens appeared by our side. One I knew well was Nimlúin—daughter of Fínduin and Sinomë. She had had long brown hair and light brown eyes. The other was Mîráre, daughter of Tatháron. Her long golden hair and eyes of silver were hard to avoid—especially for Legolas. They both bowed to me gracefully.
“Has Aruilos left, Uncle,” Nimlúin asked Fëaluin. “Mîráre wished to see His Highness off.”
“I am afraid they left quite early,” I answered, looking at Mîráre. “Mîráre, daughter of Tatháron and Tárwen. You are turning into quite a beautiful young lady.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said smiling awkwardly. “His Majesty is too kind.”
“Or truthful. Legolas shall return and call upon his return. He would be foolish not to do so. Eldôr. Fëaluin. Shall we?”
We started toward my study slowly. Fëaluin tried desperately not to laugh.
“I have been gone for far too long,” Eldôr said.
“Yes, you have, Eldôr,” I said. “Yes you have.”
“It had only been a few hours since I had watched my son pass through the main gates of our palace and into the wild to battle the evil that roamed our kingdom. I paced the floor of my throne room waiting for word I had lost my son. When the gates burst open, I thought my worst fears had come true.
Elenadar and Elenatar entered carrying a wounded elven archer. As I was joined by Eldôr, Elranduil, Fëaluin, and Aramír, we hurried to see about the elf. As they lay the elf on the floor, Nimlos, Elranduil, Findôl and Elmîr entered and went to him. It was Randúmîr. Though I was grateful it was not Legolas, he was nowhere to be seen and I worried about the condition of my archer.
“Where is Aramoth,” Aramír yelled looking around. “I need him.”
“He comes shortly with Aldáros,” Fëaluin said. “They were at the northern borders with Sildôr. How is Randúmîr?"
“He should be fine,” Elenatar said. “The wound is shallow.” He pulled showed us a bleeding cut carved out of Randúmîr’s shoulder.
“Take him to Nimlúin, now,” Eldôr commanded as more elven archers poured into the inner sanctum. Some were bloodied, but mobile. When I seemed all had returned, there still was not a sign of Legolas.
“I am going out there to find my son,” I said grabbing my sword.
“Thranduil, stop,” Nimlos began, trying to stop me. “You do not want to go out there.”
“I will go anywhere in this world for my son, Nimlos.”
Just as I said that, the gates opened and there was my son with his cousins Ardôr, Aruilos, Tarthôn and Orísil.
“How many did I get, Tarthôn,” I heard Legolas asking. He had a bit of dirt on his shirt, but otherwise he appeared fine.
“Oh, one more than me,” Tarthôn said, sounding irritated. “Tell the world, Legolas.”
“I think twenty was a good number for your first day,” Aruilos said. “But you both have far to go to catch my thirty-four.”
“Or my forty-seven,” Orísil gloated. “Though Ardôr did rather well.”
“Still far less than twenty,” Ardôr said quietly. “Fifteen."
They stopped and bowed reverently.
“Where have you been, Legolas? Tarthôn? You realize how worried I have been?”
“Ada, it was my doing,” Legolas said. “I wanted to fight later than required. Do not blame them.”
“Legolas, come with me.” I stormed into my study, my son lock-step behind me.
Inside, there were scribes working as they had for centuries. By the look on my face, they knew to leave quickly, closing the doors behind them.
“I was worried about you, Legolas,” I began. “My son out there in the wilds battling orcs and the like. And what do you do?”
“Quite well, I must say,” he said smiling. “I felled many of those horrible creatures. And many more I shall get tomorrow.”
“No, you will not, Legolas. You will stay in the palace with me and learn your place.”
“I do not wish to do that, Ada,” he said. “I will not do that.”
“You are too much like your mother,” I said.
I had not planned on those words to ever cross my lips.
“Why must you do this to me?”
He looked at me with wonderment. A smile slowly crossed his face and his eyes began to light up. For a moment, he looked exactly like his mother.
“I am like my mother,” he asked. “How am I like my mother, Ada? Please tell me.”
“You seemed to have inherited her sense of torturing me with worry. She would say and do many things that frightened me. Whether this was her intention, I do not know, but you, son, have every intention of doing so.”
“I do not,” he said laughing. “The only reason this has wrought fear in you is because you think I am going to die. That, I have no intention of doing.”
I sat down in my chair at my desk and looked at my son. Remembering when he would wander into my study and curl up on my lap to sleep. I felt my age for the first time. Legolas sat on the edge of my desk, still smiling.
“I may worry a bit much, Legolas,” I said. “But as your father and as the king, I have the right.”
“What was my mother’s name,” he asked without diverting his gaze from me. “I want to know.”
“Êlúriel,” I said. Her name still brought a wave of emotion to my heart so powerful, I could feel the pain of nearly two-thousand years envelop me.
“Her name was Êlúriel Nenluin from Ossiriand.”
“My mother was danwaith? That would explain many things. Was she beautiful?”
“Very,” I said hoping he would stop asking about her. “Her beauty was beyond extraordinary.”
“I know you loved her, Ada,” he said looking down. “I have known it my whole life. Whenever you held me as a child, I could feel the love of both of you. It is how I could find my way to sleep, then. I wish sometimes to dream again, for I could see you smile again. With mother, you always seemed to smile.”
I began to shiver within thinking Legolas may have some memory he never spoke but kept to himself. I wanted to know more, but I reluctantly said nothing.
“I loved her more than life itself,” I answered. “She meant more to me than even my throne. But the best part of her she left in my care. That is you, Legolas.”
“I am not the best part of her,” he said, rising. “I am the best part of both of you.”
I knew he was right, though I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing this. He began to leave. He paused for a moment.
“I will go out again tomorrow.”
“I hardly can keep you from having your way. Stubborn you are.”
“Yes, I am. But that, I inherited from you. Or perhaps both of you. I am rather fond of this trait, Ada. I think I will keep it.”
“I am going with you,” I said. “If I may?”
Legolas smiled gleefully.
“I would like that, Ada,” he said. “I hope you can keep up with us.”
“I have been killing these creatures long before you were born. I would not worry about me.”
He left quickly, nearly running into Fëaluin. He walked over to me with a serene look on his face.
“Is there something amiss, Fëaluin,” I asked. “What of Randúmîr?
“He is fine. We lost no one. But Tarthôn wishes an audience.”
“Tarthôn,” he said. “You may enter.”
Into the room came Tarthôn, his golden red hair somewhat a mess from the hunt. He bowed as I stood.
“You may leave, Fëaluin,” I said. He took his leave quickly. When the doors were shut, I stood before the man I raised as my own son. “What bothers you, Tarthôn?”
“I am not your son, am I,” he asked.
“You have been my son since your birth. Why do you ask?"
“I look nothing like you. I look nothing like Legolas. Who am I?”
“Where is this coming from, Tarthôn,” I asked.
“I am different, Ada. I know this. But you worry more for Legolas than me."
“I know your skills are greater,” I said. “But do not doubt my love for you. I worry for you every time you leave this palace.”
“Who am I,” he asked again.
"You are Tarthôn, son of Melros, son Eldûmír. Both died in the War of the Last Alliance. Your mother, Arandil and your grandmother Aralómë left you in my care for the Undying Lands. Your father was like a brother to me since childhood. I promised to care for you as my own if he were to die and that he did. Honorably. You are his son but you are also my son.”
“I apologize for endangering your son,” he said. “I would never do anything to harm him.”
“Do you wish to leave your family? Legolas knows no other but you as his brother. Have I said something wrong?”
“No,” Tarthôn said. “You have loved me well and there is no better brother I could ask for than Legolas. I just wanted to know. I see one that looks like me in memories that should not be and he is always in the armor of a warrior.”
“That is Melros. I was there when he fell,” I said sadly.
I did not want to look at his son.
“He always says to me that I am where I should be,” he said. “He says he is very proud.”
“As he should. You have grown very well. You are a good son.”
“He is proud of you,” Tarthôn said as he approached me. “I know you love me, Ada. I lost one in battle before my birth and gained another when I was born. I wish my father had lived, but it was not a choice I was given. But kept your promise to raise me as your son and I am glad you are my father.”
He embraced me and I returned it to him. I felt tears come to me. Memory seemed to bring Melros back to me. I had held so much guilt for his death, I found it hard to hold his son. Much like Legolas whom I kept at arms length for the guilt of losing his mother, I had not noticed I was pushing them away over agonizing pain.
When he released me he smiled coyly.
“You know I have shown interest in Ëariâth, Ada. I ask for your blessing, if I may.”
“That, I give willingly for the affairs of the heart are what they are,” I said. “However, have you spoken to Nimlos of your intention?”
“Not entirely,” he said. “I was hoping you would give him reason.”
“You know, Tarthôn,” I began. “I remember many mornings when my solitude was disturbed by two little elves. Asking me to do something. I thought that would end by now.”
“It has,” he said. “For it is night.”
“Fine, Tarthôn,” I will speak with Nimlos. But should he give his blessing, you will be given the royal tradition upon the announcement.”
“Is that frightening,” he asked, his eyes growing larger. I remembered my own experience and smiled at him.
“Oh, yes. Yes, it is, son. You may go. I believe the others await your company.”
He bowed and ran out of my study. I went to my balcony and watched the falls and noticed the moon shining down for the first time in a long time, turning the waters into a glowing fall of diamonds falling into the meandering stream below. The day had ended calmer than it had begun. I found myself happier than I had been for centuries.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-24-16
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