Fanfiction: Wounds That Can't Be Mend 2/2 (The Hobbit - An Unexpected Journey)
Title: "Wounds That Can't Be Mend 2/2”
Status: Complete
Fandom: The Hobbit - An Unexpected Journey
Characters/Pairing: Thranduil, Legolas
Disclaimer: The Hobbit @ J. R. R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson. No copyright infringement intended.
Rating: K
Genre: character study, family, Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence
Warnings: none
Summary: Ever since his father returned from Erebor Legolas has cause to worry for him...
AN: Each part can stand alone.
Part One
Mirkwood
The guards let Legolas pass without the need for words, closing the gates behind him, and even had he been formally announced, he was sure his father would have paid no heed to his entrance.
The great hall lay empty and silent, illuminated by torches, since the sun had set an hour ago, leaving Mirkwood to the darkness that encroached ever farther on the Woodland Realm. Armed statues stood sentry, flanking the columns that rose to support the ceiling's dome, their shields and swords gleaming with silver and flecks of inlaid emerald.
The Elvenking sat on his antlered throne, imperious as was his wont, yet Legolas would not be fooled. Thranduil had been deeply unsettled ever since his return from Erebor; the stench of sulfur clinging to his robes and trailing after him all day.
Legolas had met with him thrice to discuss the details pertaining to the refugees and their growing encampment at Mirkwood's edge, where they should be out of reach of the forest's dangers.
His father had sent messengers with offers of aid to both the Men of Dale and Durin's Folk. While the former had gratefully accepted, Tauriel's report had been so carefully worded upon her return that Legolas had heard every unspoken word of insult and hatred.
He could not fault the Dwarves, ached for them, even, if in a distant way. Legolas placed no limitations on his compassion, the sole exception being the dark creatures that roamed Middle-Earth.
However, his focus was far closer to home at present.
Even now his father's hand strayed to the wounds he hid with an illusion woven of light, tracing the scars as if they burned underneath his touch.
“Ada?” Legolas asked, moving up the steps to the elevated throne, hoping to draw Thranduil's attention back to the here and now with a touch to the shoulder. “Are you well?”
He was close enough to feel the long exhale that stirred his hair, and it was with relief that he met Thranduil's gaze, once again piercing and focused.
“Of course. Do not worry for me, Ionneg.”
Legolas allowed himself to lean into the soft caress, before cool fingers left his cheek and gently pushed him away, to a distance more befitting both their status.
He would ask his father to share his thoughts and worries later, after Thranduil had retired. Now, Legolas had a report to give, and it was soothing rather than vexing, knowing that their kin would always come first and family second; as was their way.
“You have come bearing news?”
“Yes, my Lord. The temporary settlement has been established as planned and the guards are in position. The first transports with food and medicine have left our stores; the healers travel with them. They should arrive within the hour.”
“Good.” Thranduil inclined his head, the light catching like fire in the autumn leaves of his crown. “Am I correct to assume that all our extra stores will be used up within a fortnight?”
“Yes.” Legolas hesitated only briefly before adding, “The council has made its misgivings known. They wonder how we will be able to face the coming winter, harboring so many extra mouths to feed. A few have openly questioned your decision to aid the people of Esgaroth.”
Thranduil's smile was grim. “And many more will not have dared voicing their thoughts so freely, especially concerning how I handled the matter with Erebor and Durin's Folk in the first place, long before the dragon ever came.”
It was a fierce protective instinct that made Legolas hand wander closer to the sword at his side. “Their discontent will surely dissolve when we offer our solution.”
His father still did not look too pleased with the only one they had managed to think of, though Thranduil himself had proposed it first. He reached into one of his hidden pockets, drawing forth a parchment that carried the royal seal.
“Tauriel and you are to bring this to Lord Elrond of Rivendell with all haste. We will kindly ask for his help in our time of need.”
“Yes, Father.” Legolas took the offered scroll. “We will leave before dawn.”
“Good.”
Legolas bowed, yet hesitated to follow the corridor that would lead to his own quarters. “May I come to your room before then?”
“Of course.”
XXX
Thranduil watched him go, a smile on his lips. Legolas' touch had been like his son: strong and true and kind. Willing to share a burden he could not yet fathom, and nor he should. It was not yet time for him to feel Mirkwood's taint so keenly, to keep it at bay in constant battle. Not one of drawn arms, but will and watchfulness.
For that, Thranduil was grateful. He had known no greater joy than watching his son grow, shielding and nurturing him. Other than Oropher before him and Thranduil himself, the strifes and grudges of the past did not burden him.
In time, Legolas would find his own way. And, if Eru was willing, it would lead him and his people into a glorious future.
Until then, the Elvenking would endure.
The End
Ada - father
Ionneg - my son
Status: Complete
Fandom: The Hobbit - An Unexpected Journey
Characters/Pairing: Thranduil, Legolas
Disclaimer: The Hobbit @ J. R. R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson. No copyright infringement intended.
Rating: K
Genre: character study, family, Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence
Warnings: none
Summary: Ever since his father returned from Erebor Legolas has cause to worry for him...
AN: Each part can stand alone.
Part One
Mirkwood
The guards let Legolas pass without the need for words, closing the gates behind him, and even had he been formally announced, he was sure his father would have paid no heed to his entrance.
The great hall lay empty and silent, illuminated by torches, since the sun had set an hour ago, leaving Mirkwood to the darkness that encroached ever farther on the Woodland Realm. Armed statues stood sentry, flanking the columns that rose to support the ceiling's dome, their shields and swords gleaming with silver and flecks of inlaid emerald.
The Elvenking sat on his antlered throne, imperious as was his wont, yet Legolas would not be fooled. Thranduil had been deeply unsettled ever since his return from Erebor; the stench of sulfur clinging to his robes and trailing after him all day.
Legolas had met with him thrice to discuss the details pertaining to the refugees and their growing encampment at Mirkwood's edge, where they should be out of reach of the forest's dangers.
His father had sent messengers with offers of aid to both the Men of Dale and Durin's Folk. While the former had gratefully accepted, Tauriel's report had been so carefully worded upon her return that Legolas had heard every unspoken word of insult and hatred.
He could not fault the Dwarves, ached for them, even, if in a distant way. Legolas placed no limitations on his compassion, the sole exception being the dark creatures that roamed Middle-Earth.
However, his focus was far closer to home at present.
Even now his father's hand strayed to the wounds he hid with an illusion woven of light, tracing the scars as if they burned underneath his touch.
“Ada?” Legolas asked, moving up the steps to the elevated throne, hoping to draw Thranduil's attention back to the here and now with a touch to the shoulder. “Are you well?”
He was close enough to feel the long exhale that stirred his hair, and it was with relief that he met Thranduil's gaze, once again piercing and focused.
“Of course. Do not worry for me, Ionneg.”
Legolas allowed himself to lean into the soft caress, before cool fingers left his cheek and gently pushed him away, to a distance more befitting both their status.
He would ask his father to share his thoughts and worries later, after Thranduil had retired. Now, Legolas had a report to give, and it was soothing rather than vexing, knowing that their kin would always come first and family second; as was their way.
“You have come bearing news?”
“Yes, my Lord. The temporary settlement has been established as planned and the guards are in position. The first transports with food and medicine have left our stores; the healers travel with them. They should arrive within the hour.”
“Good.” Thranduil inclined his head, the light catching like fire in the autumn leaves of his crown. “Am I correct to assume that all our extra stores will be used up within a fortnight?”
“Yes.” Legolas hesitated only briefly before adding, “The council has made its misgivings known. They wonder how we will be able to face the coming winter, harboring so many extra mouths to feed. A few have openly questioned your decision to aid the people of Esgaroth.”
Thranduil's smile was grim. “And many more will not have dared voicing their thoughts so freely, especially concerning how I handled the matter with Erebor and Durin's Folk in the first place, long before the dragon ever came.”
It was a fierce protective instinct that made Legolas hand wander closer to the sword at his side. “Their discontent will surely dissolve when we offer our solution.”
His father still did not look too pleased with the only one they had managed to think of, though Thranduil himself had proposed it first. He reached into one of his hidden pockets, drawing forth a parchment that carried the royal seal.
“Tauriel and you are to bring this to Lord Elrond of Rivendell with all haste. We will kindly ask for his help in our time of need.”
“Yes, Father.” Legolas took the offered scroll. “We will leave before dawn.”
“Good.”
Legolas bowed, yet hesitated to follow the corridor that would lead to his own quarters. “May I come to your room before then?”
“Of course.”
XXX
Thranduil watched him go, a smile on his lips. Legolas' touch had been like his son: strong and true and kind. Willing to share a burden he could not yet fathom, and nor he should. It was not yet time for him to feel Mirkwood's taint so keenly, to keep it at bay in constant battle. Not one of drawn arms, but will and watchfulness.
For that, Thranduil was grateful. He had known no greater joy than watching his son grow, shielding and nurturing him. Other than Oropher before him and Thranduil himself, the strifes and grudges of the past did not burden him.
In time, Legolas would find his own way. And, if Eru was willing, it would lead him and his people into a glorious future.
Until then, the Elvenking would endure.
The End
Ada - father
Ionneg - my son