Storm Of Arrows ➝ The Lord of the Rings ✓

Part Eleven

PART ELEVEN ~

Legolas huffed and collapsed onto his bed, contemplating on what to do. He was fairly sure the woman was telling the truth, about the village and her brother. Yes, she did kill an elf. But she had said she wasn't herself. Again, yes, she could have just said that, but the glint in her eyes was genuine; the guilt and horror.

The prince was pulled out of his thoughts as something hard pummeled urgently against the door. Legolas raised an eyebrow and leaped from his cot, his hand hovering above his dagger as he pulled hesitantly on the handle. The elf before him as the door swung open was none other than Tathar, looking substantially relieved.

"Oh, thank Eru! We've had guards looking everywhere for you. I thought you were down in the dungeon?" He looked suspiciously at the Prince, and Legolas smiled sheepishly.

"I left while you were dozing," Legolas said with an indifferent shrug, though his eyes sparkled with amusment.

Tathar held back his retort and nodded. "Come with me, please. Your father wants to see you."

Legolas shrugged and followed the Elven guard down to the throne room, the sharp heels of his boots slapping rythmacially against the cold, marble floor.

"Ah, Legolas," Thranduil greeted as his son bowed respectfully before his father. He nodded briefly at Tathar, who left without a word, and gestured for his son to rise. "There are things I need to discuss with you." The King studied his son thoughtfully as he took in his words, but Legolas maintained his blank guise.

"What is it, Ada?"

Thranduil sighed, allowing his slender body to sink back into his throne, his face drooping with weariness. "We've been getting many reports of various Orc attacks on our borders," He explained, his voice dripping with fatigue. "Now, normally I would not meddle in the affairs of men, but I am worried they will soon find humans tedious and come closer to our palace. I am worried for my people, Legolas. I am worried for you."

Legolas nodded solemnly, his face falling. Orc raids on human villages? Just like Taryn's story. "You want me to stop them?"

Thranduil's wilting head snapped up. "Of course not, my son. I would never allow you to be put to harm." He shook his head vigorously. "I merely want you to investigate. Go to the villages; see what damage they are capable of. Find out how many there are."

Anger suddenly raged inside Legolas, coursing through his vains like an inferno, setting his body ablaze. "Why do you not allow me to fight, father?" His voice came out as a shrill hiss, riddled with fury. "Why do you not allow me to protect my home? You have no trouble sending out guards and scouts who put themselves in danger every minute of their lives. Why will you not allow me to do the same?"

"Because, Legolas, you are my only son. The only living heir to the throne," Thranduil retorted, rising from his throne. His body towered over the Prince, seemingly growing taller as he cast a long, menacing shadow along the walls of the hall. His voice was harsh and his eyes glinted like icicles. But then his voice sunk to a desperate whisper, and a heavy sadness decended upon the King. "I... I cannot lose you."

Legolas' heart felt as though it had been gripped with icy tendrils, crushing it with a tremendous power until it shattered into millions of shards. "No, father. You will not lose me." Legolas' anger faded into despair and he collapsed at the foot of the dais, feeling an overwhelming surge of sorrow. For what reason, he did not know.

Thranduil took his son by the shoulders and lifted him from the polished floor. His hands gripped his tunic tightly, and he forced Legolas to meet his soft gaze. Without saying a word, Legolas embraced his father in an affectionate hug, much to Thranduil's surprise. But he accepted the offering and allowed his son, now seeming so small and childish in his arms, to let out his sorrow.

"It's okay, my son," Thranduil whispered reassuringly, gently caressing Legolas' silky hair. He was glad no other elves were present in the room, for the King's gaze was soft and fatherly, not fierce and kingly, as it should be.

"Thank you, father. I shall leave at once."

The Prince suddenly pulled away and marched swiftly out of the throne room, leaving Thranduil staring after his son in sadness. He exhaled deeply before resuming his place on the throne and regaining an air or authority.

Tathar returned moments later after seeing the Prince leave.

"What do you command me to do, my King?"

Thranduil ran his fingers through his hair thoughtfully. "Merely keep an eye on him. Make sure he investigates and returns immediately."

"Understood, my King." And with a flustered bow, Tathar left the King to his own thoughts.

~

A/N: Hey. Nice to see you again! Even though I can't see you... Um...
So. I have no idea what's going on. Or where I'm taking this. But that's the fun of writing fanfics, right!? Yes? No? Just me? Okay.

Sorry this part is pretty short, again. I hope it's okay.

I'll update when I can!
Thanks so much for reading!

Please VOTE! :)
~ _imagine_fantasy_