Shattered Light

A/N: I honestly have no idea how long this story is going to be or how long it's going to take me to write. I haven't had a whole lot of time to sit and write lately with school and work starting to pick up. Plus, I'm being overrun with plot bunnies; four stories in my lap and not enough time or fingers to type them all up. I hope to get this story done before the year is out (and perhaps two of the others I am writing).

Thranduil/Elrond main pairing for this story; other main pairings are Elladan/Legolas (reworking their meeting from 'In Twilight') and establishing the Haldir/Erestor pairing. Also mentioned will be Orophin/Elrohir, Lindir/Rumil, Glorfindel/Ecthelion and possibly Gil-galad/Elrond.

I do plan wo wwo weddings and a handful of betrothals before this story is finished!

Please read and review; hope you all enjoy. And if you do, I promise I'll put up the next part as soon as I can.

Shattered Light
Chapter 1: After Years Apart

“I can’t do this.”

“You have to. There are people looking to you for guidance.”

“I do not think I should be the one they should turn to.”

“If not you, who else is there?”

“You could do it. You could lead the people.”

An am sno snort. “Surely you jest. Me? Why would anyone with enough sense follow a king who has not yet been crowned?”

“Perhaps not, but you are still a king.”

“Only in name. My coronation will not take place for some time. Besides, only the Sindar of Greenwood will follow me, because I am their prince. There is no reason for the Noldor to. I am not their king.” Silence passed between them for a moment. “You cannot give up. You must live.”

“Why?”

“To lead the people.”

“That is not a suitable answer.”

“Then I cannot answer your question. But you must. You will be needed in the future, I can feel it. People look to you for guidance; they seek you for your wisdom. Will you forsake everything that those who have been lost have worked to create, to protect? Will you fail them now that they are gone?”

He thought on the matter, knowing the reasoning was true. “I still say it should be you they should follow.”

“And I say you are wrong.”

“Why are you helping me? I thought you hated me.”

“Why should I hate you?”

“Your father hated me.” An uncomfortable silence settled between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Nay, it is all right.” Another long pause. “Aye, he did hate you; he hated all Noldor because of Fëanor‘s oath. But I am not my father. I don’t hate you. I’ll pretend to hate you if you would prefer…”

“It would help keep up pretenses.”

“We have to pretend we don’t like each other?”

“It would be rather suspicious if we didn’t.”

“It’s going to be difficult to do so.”

“But we must. For the sake of our people, if not for ourselves. Not everyone thinks the way you do about things.”

“You are right, as always. So be it then: I shall pretend to hate you in the manner and reason of my father, and you will attempt to pretend to sway me from the hate. But if you ever need me, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll come without fail, Elrond.”

“Hannon le, Thranduil.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was shining brightly through the canopy of tree leaves as the party from Mirkwood journeyed closer to the valley dwelling of the Lord Elrond Peredhel. Thranduil couldn’t remember the last time he had visited Imladris; it had been a very long time indeed. The elves of Mirkwood did not get along well with the elves of Imladris. Relations with the Galadhrim were slightly easier, but a little more strained than they would normallve bve been otherwise, partially due to the marriage that had occurred between the Lady Celebrían and Lord Elrond. The Sindar of Mirkwood held the Noldor in contempt for what took place at Alqualondë so many years ago; even after all the time that had passed, relations at present were little better.

Thranduil, in all outward appearances, seemed to dislike the Noldor the most; in his heart, however, such a fact was untrue. Most of the Noldor left in Middle-earth, he knew, were related to those present at Alqualondë, but they themselves had not been present. He had come to the conclusion at a young age that holding one accountable for their forefather’s actions was unjust. It was an ideal he had instilled in his four children, and they of all Mirkwood knew how deeply he respected, even loved, the elves of the valley. For Thranduil knew that the Sindar alone could not have won the war against the Dark Lord had they been the only ones of the Firstborn opposed to their rule. The King of Mirkwood had also seen the love between one of the Teler for that of a Noldo, and their child had been a great joy and blessing to the world. Thranduil was rather looking forward to seeing Lindir during his visit.

But the nature of the call was not as pleasant as the riding party would have liked. Word had come to them of Lady Celebrían’s sailing into the West after a band of Orcs assaulted her party. Thranduil, in the company of two of his sons, had decided to ride to Imladris and offer aid to Elrond in whatever form he could. The notion came as a shock to much of Mirkwood, but the King had said that the visit would be a formal rather than a social affair; it would not have done well for the lord of one elven realm not to offer his condolences to one another. His sons and daughter knew better.

Celeron, second of Thranduil’s children, prided himself on being able to ‘read his father like a book’. He hadisteisted on staying behind to watch Mirkwood and protect it in his father’s absence; Thranduil’s only daughter, Nimriel, had also requested to stay. Arondil, the first born, and Legolas had decided to accompany their father on the journey. Legolas, who had never traveled to Imladris before, was looking forwards to the stay, for he wished to become acquainted with the elves there. He was more like Thranduil in physical form and manner than any of his other siblings; the King could see that Legolas would do great deeds during his lifetime.

“We are nearing the valley, my Lord,” a sentry announced. “Shall I ride ahead and inform the border patrols of our coming?”

“Please do so,” Thranduil said with a nod. “Arondil, go with them.”

“Aye, Ada,” Arondil replied, spurring his horse forward before he, the sentry and two others disappeared through the trees, leaving Legolas with their father and the rest of their party, which consisted of ten guardsmen.

“Ada,” Legolas called quietly as he rode close to his father’s side. “You announced that this would not be a social call on your part. But it is, isn’t it?”

“You are quite perceptive, Legolas,” Thranduil replied in a hushed whisper, his words for his son’s ears only. “I respected Elrond greatly during the Last Alliance. He sent a secret letter of condolence and sympathy when your mother died. I feel I owe him the same.”

“But why the personal call?”

“That I am not quite sure of, myself.”

Legolas gazed at his father for a long moment before turning back to watch the path. He alone of his siblings suspected that there was more than friendship between the Lords of Mirkwood and Imladris--at least on his own father’s part. The young prince was not at all acquainted with the inhabitants of the valley, save for Lindir, who often journeyed to perform at Thranduil’s bidding, and Erestor, who acted as ambassador; therefore ouldould not draw a conclusion on what the elves of the valley were like. He was aware, however, of the important members of the House of Elrond, though he had never met most of them. There was Elrond himself, who ruled the valley; Glorfindel, the seneschal; Erestor, the chief advisor; Lindir, the head minstrel; and Elrond’s children, the Lady Arwen and her brothers, the twins Elladan and Elrohir.

“You love him, don’t you, Ada?” Thranduil seemed to stiffen at his words, but the son did not turn to the father. Silently Legolas waited for his father to speak as they continued on their journey.

“I did, once,” Thranduil replied quietly, staring down at the reins in his hands. “I might still but I am unsure. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Elrond. And then your mother…I did love her, Legolas. I…”

“There is no need to explain, Ada,” Legolas said, cutting off his father. “I--we--know you loved Nana. We saw the love you felt for one another in your eyes. You do not have to justify your heart to me, or my brothers and sister. We love you, Ada, and we would never question your loyalties.”

“But…”

“*Ada*.”

Thranduil felt like cringing at the reprimanding tone that edged his youngest son’s voice. Slowly, he turned to Legolas and found a somewhat stern look upon the younger elf’s face. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he felt like an elfling again as he waited for his son to speak.

“We know how much you love Nana,” Legolas began. “We know you loved her dearly, and grieved much when she passed. But that was a long time ago. You deserve to love again after all these years. I know the marriage vows you shared cannot be broken, and that you will always be bound to her. But try, Ada, try to open your heart to someone else. You’ve been so lonely, and it pains me to see you so.”

“I am not lonely, Legolas. I have you and your brothers and sister to keep me company.”

“Aye, ‘tis true that we are there for you and would do anything for you. But you are still lonely, whether you realize it or not. Please try to love again, for our sakes.”

Thranduil sighed, reaching over to cup his son’s hand in his own. “When did you become so wise, Legolas? Who taught you to speak such sagely words?”

The younger elf grinned, squeezing his father’s slender hand. “I have had a lot of practice in diplomacy.”

“Weaseling your way out of punishment, I presume?”

“Never! Wherever did you ever come up with such an idea?” But the grin stayed upon his face, even widening just a touch. The young prince tried not to laugh when Thranduil wrinkled his nose as if smelling something amiss. Legolas was about to speak and tease his father when Arondil returned with Glorfindel. He found himself nearly holding his breath at the sight of the Elda, whom he had heard a great deal about in tales and songs. Glorfindel seemed to Legolas to be more stunning and radiant in person than any words could convey; the Elda did indeed command one’s attention when they were in his presence.

“King Thranduil,” the golden-haired seneschal of Imladris said as he rode closer to the King, bowing his head in greeting and respect. “’Tis good of you to come and pay our valley home a visit.”

“It is kind of you to meet me on the way, Lord Glorfindel,” Thranduil greeted in reply, inclining his own head. There was a slight edge to his voice when he spoke, an edge which the guards took as a deep-seated loathing. The young princes, on the other hand, exchanged knowing glances but said nothing; they were able to easily read the relief in Glorfindel’s azure eyes at the sight of an old friend.

“Come, I shall lead you to the valley. I’ve sent a sentry ahead to notify Erestor and Lady Arwen on your coming.”

Thranduil merely nodded in reply, finding it difficult to keep a stern composure before his guards. He hadn’t seen Glorfindel since they parted ways after the return from Mordor. The King had missed the nightly councils they sometimes shared, relating stories of their homeland, in, in Glorfindel’s case, past lives and loves. Thranduil dearly wanted to spend time in the Elda’s company again, but such moments would have to be in private or in the company of his sons alone.

The Last Homely House had changed greatly since the Last Alliance. Thranduil hardly recognized the house of Elrond as he approached it. The image of Imladris impressed upon his mind was of a valley next to the cascading Bruinen filled with tents and half-finished stables and homes. The construction of the valley dwelling had only just begun when Thranduil had last been to visit. Now, it was a serene place full of color and life, the homes intricately built in the elegant and graceful manner of the elves. It differed greatly from the cave stronghold and telain of Mirkwood, but it still felt like home even to a visitor.

Arondil and Legolas rode on either side of their father, the elder brother riding silently whilst he observed his surroundings. The younger sibling, however, found it difficult to contain his wonder and excitement as he entered such a mysterious place, a haven he had only heard about in messages sent to his father. Legolas wondered what other secrets of the valley he would discover during his stay there; he could just imagine Celeron and Nimriel’s envious faces upon his return since they, like him, had never been to Imladris. Arondil, Legolas mused, had been the lucky one; being the eldest, he had ofteen een sent as ambassador to the valley on behalf of Thranduil.

“King Thranduil, ‘tis wonderful to see you have journeyed safely to our valley,” a familiar voice said as the riding party stopped before the front steps of the house of the Lord of Imladris. Erestor gave the party a deep bow, smiling in greeting. Behind him stood a young woman, her hair dark and her gray eyes bright. “Sire,” Erestor said, turning to the woman, who took a step forward and curtseyed politely to the Woodland King, “May I present the Lady Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond.”

“’Tis a pleasure to meet you, my Lord,” Arwen said with a kind smile. She turned to Arondil and Legolas, curtseying to them as well. The pair of princes bowed their heads in greeting.

“I thank you for greeting my party, my Lady,” Thranduil replied with a nod of his head; he dismounted, followed shortly by his sons and the rest of his party. “My sons, Arondil and Legolas.”

“Are Prince Celeron and Princess Nimriel still in Mirkwood, my Lord?” Glorfindel inquired after advising the stable hands to attend to the horses.

“Aye, they are. Celeron wished to watch over my kingdom whilst I was away, and Nimriel indicated that she would remain to keep him company.”

“I dearly would have liked to meet with the princess,” Arwen said. “I have heard that she is a delight to be with. I wish that she could have accompanied you on your journey, my Lord.”

Thrandumilemiled at her words. He too had heard tales of the beauty that was the daughter of Elrond, and the valiant deeds that were his sons. “My daughter expressed a wish that she could have visited Imladris, but decided to stay in Mirkwood. I shall relate to her your kind words when I return, Lady Arwen.”

“Then I shall look forward to meeting her one day, my Lord.”

“My Lord,” Erestor politely interrupted. “May I show you to your quarters? The journey from Mirkwood must have been tiring.”

“Nay, it was not so exhausting, Erestor. But aye, I would like to rest a bit before meeting with your lord.” Thranduil worried over Elrond’s state, remembering well how he had been after his own wife died. If it hadn’t been for his children, the King was not entirely sure what would have happened to him. Judging by the sorrowful look in Arwen’s eyes, Thranduil guessed that Elrond’s children were doing the best they could, but it was not nearly enough. He would have to do something, even if that meant dissolving all the pretenses he had built up over the years.

Quietly, the party of Mirkwood followed Erestor through the halls of the house of Elrond, unaware of the other members of the house lingering around corners and catching glimpses of them.

TBC...