An Affliction Of The Heart 11

An Affliction Of The Heart

Part 11

Posted: December 14, 2007
Title: An Affliction of the Heart
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Legolas wakes a changed elf, and Thranduil makes a promise.

*****

Legolas gasped and sat straight up in the bed, then immediately began kicking at the covers. Thranduil, who had come in during the night to keep watch over his son, was sitting in a chair beside Legolas’ bed. Legolas abrupt waking roused his bedfellows, the king, and Glorfindel.

Thranduil called his son’s name, “Legolas?”

The prince fought against both the blankets and the gentle attempts by Elladan and Elrohir to calm him. He growled and struggled as if he were fighting for his life, despite the twins’ soothing speech. Elrohir narrowly avoided being punched in the face as Legolas blindly struck out at the peredhel.

Thranduil quickly mounted the bed, grasped his son by the shoulders, and barked, “Greenleaf!”

“Father?” Legolas ceased his struggle and put his hands out in search of the king. “Where are we?”

Thranduil furrowed his brow. “We are in your chambers, my son.” He caught Legolas’ wrists as they groped in search of his face and he held them tight.

“Why is it so dark? Why can I not see you?” Legolas queried as Thranduil guided his hands to his face. “Where is the dragon? I can no longer hear him in my mind.”

Thranduil began to feel tears begin to sting his eyes. His son was blind.

“The dragon is dead, Greenleaf. Glorfindel and I have slain it; it will menace you no more.” He moved closer to Legolas, cupping his son’s cheek with his hand. “Calm yourself and close your eyes.”

Legolas did as he was told, closing his eyes and taking a deep, calming breath. He felt his father’s hands upon his face, thumbs gently smoothing his furrowed brow as they used to do when he was an elfling and was worried or upset about something. Upon opening his eyes again, there was nothing but blackness. “I cannot see,” he whispered. “I cannot see, I cannot see…”

Elladan had already left the room in search of the healer, and Thranduil gathered his son close in his arms . “All will be well, my son. Do not fear.”

Glorfindel stood behind his lover, his hand upon the king’s back in a small effort to comfort him. This was not the outcome that they had hoped for.

Elrohir clenched his jaw, fighting back tears as he leaned his head upon the prince’s shoulder. “‘Tis me, my liege, ‘tis your elf-knight,” he whispered.

Legolas turned and reached toward the soft, comforting voice. “Are you well? Where is Elladan? Were either of you hurt?”

“No, my prince,” Elrohir answered softly, catching the prince’s hand and bringing it to rest upon his cheek. “Both Elladan and I are unharmed; he has gone to fetch the healer.” He swallowed. “You fell from the sky when the dragon dropped you. It is quite possible that you suffered some injury and that is why you cannot see. Perhaps when you heal your sight will return.”

“Or perhaps this is that devil’s parting gift,” Legolas said in a grim voice. “Something for me to remember it by, as if what it did was not bad enough.”

Thranduil looked up at Glorfindel with concern evident in his eyes. Glorfindel nodded and gently took Elrohir by the arm. “Come, Elrohir, let us give the king leave to speak with his son.”

Elrohir nodded and placed a hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “We will be here when you need us, my prince.”

Legolas managed a slight smile and nodded. “Aye, I know you will be, my friend.”

Thranduil waited until the door closed behind his lover and Elrohir, then he stroked his son’s hair. “Tell me what happened, Greenleaf.”

Legolas swallowed and took a deep breath, then began to slowly tell his tale.

“I was nearing the eastern border when I first saw its shadow. I attempted to take cover, but it was too late – it sensed me before I could hide.” The prince shuddered, then continued, “I think I was able to keep my thoughts hidden, but it kept searching, its thoughts creeping into my own, its voice filling both my ears and my mind. Never have I felt such pure evil, such blackness…” The prince’s fingers gripped his father’s robe tightly. “I knew I could never let it see the caves, no matter what it did to me. Ada, it threatened such terrible things . . . it told me it would do to me what it did to Maeglin, that it would molest me, torture me, until I went mad, then it would set me free to witness the downfall of everything and everyone I love before wandering lost and alone, defiled and ruined.” A tear tracked down the prince’s cheek. “I tried so hard to be brave, but I was so frightened. If Elladan and Elrohir had not arrived when they did…”

Thranduil wrapped his arms around his son and held him tightly, thankful, at least for that moment, that Legolas could not see the mixture of pain and rage in his eyes. “But they did, and for that I will forever be grateful. They risked their lives for you, Greenleaf. They stood beside you, ready to die with you even in the face of such terror. They are extraordinarily brave for ones so young. And you are brave, my son. In the face of torture, of something so terrible that it could bring even the mightiest elf to his knees, you remained strong. The dragon never learned where we live, and in the end, it paid for its heinous deeds – Glorfindel killed it as payment for the death, evil, and destruction it has wrought. It was his revenge for what dragons did to his city so long ago, and for what this one tried to do to you.” He pressed a kiss to the side of his son’s head. “It is gone, never to return.”

Legolas wrapped his arms around his father’s neck. “I love you, Ada,” he whispered.

“I love you, Greenleaf,” Thranduil answered. “Come, rest now in my arms as you did when you were but an elfling. I will protect you from nightmares now as I did then.”

Legolas nodded and curled against his father, resting his head upon Thranduil’s powerful chest as he took comfort in the king’s strong and sure arms.

* * * *

Thranduil stood behind his desk, looking at a tapestry that had once been gifted to him by Elrond. It depicted his father, mounted upon his great silver stallion; the horse reared and pawed the air defiantly, his father sat upon its back effortlessly, one hand upon its neck, the other holding a spear raised aloft. It was how Thranduil wanted to remember his father: strong, invincible, fearless, a great warrior-king.

Despite their differences, Thranduil knew that Elrond had a great and abiding respect for Oropher, and that respect had been extended to him as well – that he sent his only sons into the Great Wood to be trained as warriors was evidence of Elrond’s trust.

Thranduil had earned his crown and title with his blood and sweat. Regardless of his doubts about his own wisdom, he had always been confident in his prowess as a warrior. Something happened to Thranduil when he was on the battlefield: it was as if he took the death of every one of his fallen warriors upon his head to avenge. He would ride in when others would want to retreat, he always led the charge, never asking his warriors to do what he would not do first. He was fierce and deadly with sword, bow, and lance, but sometimes he wondered if he were not too rash and fearless.

When Glorfindel had leapt from the cliff onto the dragon’s back, Thranduil had followed, drawing his sword and leaping to the ground. He stabbed and slashed the tough hide of the beast; heedless of the danger he was in. He remembered Glorfindel’s voice shouting at him to take cover behind a large rock. Thranduil had never seen anything like it - his lover seemed to glow of his own accord. Light emanating from him, surrounding him like a halo, Glorfindel’s eyes sparkled and gleamed, his voice seeming louder than any elf’s should be. In that moment, Thranduil’s sense of invincibility faded and he felt small and powerless compared to the great warrior that stood before him.

As he dove behind the rock the air exploded into flames around him and he remembered crying out his lover’s name. Ash fell from the sky and then it began to rain, hard. As the smoke cleared, he gained his feet, covered in soot and ash, rain beginning to soak him to the bone. He called Glorfindel’s name and stepped from behind the rock to see his lover standing over the smoldering remnants of the dragon, watching the ashen form disintegrate and be absorbed by the earth.

Wet and blackened with soot, Glorfindel had looked at him and smiled. Thranduil remembered stepping into his lover’s arms feeling amazed and in awe of the great warrior.

As he stood now in the safety of his study, gazing at the tapestry of his father, he wondered how things had come full circle. Once, long ago, on a dusty and barren battle plain, a great warrior had shown him compassion when he felt most alone. Now, that same warrior shared Thranduil’s bed and had given him his heart. It was such a rich gift; one he knew he must never take for granted.

“My lord?”

The voice broke his musings and Thranduil turned to see the Sons of Elrond standing in the doorway. He beckoned to them to enter, rounding the desk and placing one hand on each of their shoulders as he met them.

“Your father is the wisest elf I know,” Thranduil began softly. “He has oft given me good council, whether or not I was inclined to receive it.” He smiled slightly, noting the look of surprise on the twins’ faces.

“In your lifetimes you have been blessed with peace in your homeland so you have never seen your father on the field of battle, but I have. He is a fearsome warrior, a consummate leader who always puts the safety of his warriors above his own. He is a wise general, brilliant tactician, and inspiring leader. I have great admiration for him, even though we choose to lead in different ways. When I look at the two of you, I see him there, in your eyes, in your intelligence, and most of all, in your valor. You both risked your lives to save my son and for that I will forever be grateful. I will never forget what you have done.”

He leaned forward a little, bestowing a gentle smile upon the twins. “Should ever you need me, should ever you need shelter or friendship, should ever you need a warrior at your backs, I will be there.”

Elladan and Elrohir were stunned by the frankness and kindness that the king displayed. “We know not what to say,” Elladan murmured.

“This is a great honor you bestow upon us, my lord,” Elrohir finished.

“Say naught but that you accept my offer of kinship.”

“We do, my lord,” they answered in unison.

“Good. Now, you still have work to do. I will take up your training until such time that Legolas is able to resume his role as your tutor. For now, I would ask that you continue to offer him friendship while he mends.”

“He will mend, my lord,” Elladan said quietly. “I feel it in my heart.”

“And a wise and good heart you have, Elladan. I trust that it speaks true.” Thranduil smiled as the twins departed his chamber. “Fine sons, Elrond, very fine,” he murmured, and then he returned to the business of leading his kingdom.

*****

previous | Chapter Index | next

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Larien Elengasse