Shattered Light

A/N: After my monster of a test today, I figured I'd be nice to everyone and upload the next part of this story. Hopefully, once my mid-term is over next week, I can work on more story parts and my Luthien costume for the LoTR marathon that's being run in my local theatre in December. Yay, we made the list for the New Line trilogy promotion! ::does happy dance::

Chapter 3: Sorrow’s Embrace

Though he had been somewhat reluctant, the Woodland King had followed Erestor’s advice and taken some rest after his journey. A short bath and a change of clothes later, followed by a light meal a servant had brought, the King had allowed himself an hour of rest in which he did nothing save for lying upon the bed and staring at the ceiling. Now that he felt refreshed, Thranduil had decided it was time he sought out his old friend.

He had spent a time wandering the halls of Imladris before actually going to meet with Elrond. Thranduhoughought much about the time after which his own wife had died; the pand tnd the loss. He understood well what the Peredhel was going through, but Thranduil wondered if Elrond would listen to him. It had taken a long time for the King’s children to pull him back from the brink of entering Mandos’ Halls; Thranduil only hoped that he could do the same for Elrond.

Thranduil thought of the distraught looks he had seen in the twins’ eyes, especially Elladan’s. The King guessed the eldest son had just been to see his father, and was not pleased with the results. Surely Elrond would not think of leaving his children in the world without a single parent? Though his own children were grown and quite capable of taking care of themselves without his supervision, Thranduil could not imagine what it would be like if he were not with them. He enjoyed watching his children, took pride in his sons and cherished his daughter.

Did Elrond not feel the same? If he did, why was he now intent on leaving them for the Silent Halls? The Woodland King decided he had to find a way to keep Elrond on Arda, whatever the costs.

It was dark, even with the last of the sunlight shining through, when Thranduil finally managed to enter Elrond’s bedchamber sometime in the early evening. The room was exactly as Thranduil had pictured it to be: spacious, neat, airy and full of books. He smiled at the memories of seeing Elrond reading whenever he walked into the Peredhel’s tent; the dark head would be bent over whatever book or scroll he had in hand, gray eyes darting left and right wildly as Elrond sought to take in every word before him. They were fond memories, but Thranduil now found himself frowning as he stepped further into the room.

Huddled in a corner on the floor, oblivious to the King’s entrance, was Elrond. He gazed absentmindedly out of the window next to him. His dark hair was clean and brushed, though unbraided, his robes equally clean if not a little wrinkled, his skin more pale than Thranduil remembered. The lord of the valley looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, and eaten less than what most would have thought acceptable. Elrond seemed to be in a daze with a slightly distant look in his eyes; shifting slightly, he laid his head upon his knees until Thranduil could no longer see his face. The little patch of sunlight that managed to shimmer in through the window and past the curtains warmed the Peredhel’s skin and set off his hair in a fiery glow, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Elrond?” Thranduil called quietly whilst stepping closer. He knelt in front of Elrond, but the other elf didn’t seem to react to his presence. “Elrond? Meldir?”

“Why are you here, Thranduil?” Elrond murmured without looking up. He kept his gaze fixed on something outside even as he addressed the other elven ruler.

“I came to see you.”

“Whatever for?”

“I promised you, didn’t I? In all these years, have you forgotten the words I spoke when we were last in each other’s company? I promised you I would come if you needed me. All you had to do was call and I would have come.”

“I didn’t call for you.” Slowly, Elrond lifted his head and fixed a haunted gaze upon the Woodland King. “I didn’t send for you to come, so why are you here?”

Thranduil involuntarily held his breath at the pained look Elrond held in his eyes. They were haunted, anguish-filled with the loss of someone he cared about dearly. The King was reminded of when he had lost his own wife and the nights of torment; the only comfort that came of that time was the love of his children. Gently, he gathered Elrond’s hands in his without much resistance from the Peredhel. “Whether you called me or not,” Thranduil began, “I am here now. And I’m not going anywhere until I see that you are well.”

“I am well, Thranduil,” Elrond protested. “There is no need for you to stay, nor was there any need for you to come.”

“Nay, you are not well, meldir. You are fading, and I will not lose you to the sorrow that is in your heart. You have three beautiful children who are still with you, who love you and will not see you leave them before your time. You cannot leave them, Elrond.”

“They are grown, they do not need me.”

“You are wrong. They still need you, grown or not.” Tugging on the all-too-thin hands, Thranduil managed to pull Elrond into a gentle embrace. He held on tightly even as the other elf struggled; eventually Elrond quieted and allowed for the Woodland King to hold him, though he made no move to return the gesture. “The loss in your heart is great,” Thranduil whispered, stroking the dark hair. “I know this, I’ve felt it myself. But you cannot allow yourself to give in to sorrow. Live, Elrond. You must live.”

Hot tears began to spill down Elrond’s sallow cheeks at the words being whispered so tenderly into his ears. Before he knew what was happening, Elrond found himself clinging to Thranduil, burying his face into the King’s emerald velvet tunic. “I-I don’t know h-how a-anymore,” he so, hi, his voice muffled by the plush fabric that was now becoming increasingly damp with his salt tears. “She w-was my best f-friend, the m-mother of m-my children. I w-was with her f-for so long. H-how do I l-let go of all t-that?”

“Not easily, meldir. Not easily at all. Believe me, I know the pain of your heart. But you must let go; Celebrían would not want you to suffer so.”

“Help me…please…”

Thranduil nodded, pulling Elrond even closer as he held the Peredhel tightly. “I will be here for as long as you need me.”

Elrond merely sighed, his tears continuing to flow in silver streams down his cheeks. He barely heard the whispered words of comfort Thranduil spoke into his ear or the gentle rocking motion the King began. All he could focus on was his wife, now gone, and the children he would have to continue watching over alone. His children…Thranduil was right, he couldn’t leave them. But Elrond didn’t know how to ignore the ache in his chest long enough to focus on them and go on. It hurt to lose yet another he had cared so deeply about. “Please stay with me,” he murmured into Thranduil’s tunic without even realizing he had spoken.

The muffled words startled Thranduil slightly; sapphire eyes blinked in the fading light. Had Thranduil heard right? Instead of voicing his questions, the King merely gave Elrond a firm squeeze. In silence they stayed in one another’s arms as the sun dipped lower before disappearing beneath the horizon.

~~~~~~~~~~

Neither elven lord noticed the pair of gray eyes watching them from where the door stood ajar. Elrohir observed the Mirkwood King and his father closely; he could clearly see the close bond of friendship they shared. The young Peredhel had heard many stories of the supposed hatred that was shared between them, but he had had a difficult time believing his father could hold someone in such cold contempt. chinching them now, Elrohir knew all the tales he had heard had been fabricated, but he did not know why.

“It is not polite to spy on others, pen-neth,” a voice said from Elrohir’s right.

The twin jumped, startled, before turning to face Erestor, who was gazing at him with a somewhat disapproving look. “I wasn’t spying,” Elrohir replied in a soft voice.

“Then, pray tell, what are you doing hovering outside your father’s door and staring inside with the door just barely open?”

“What do you know about King Thranduil, Erestor?”

The question caught the counselor off-guard. Of course he, as well as Glorfindel and Lindir, were well aware of the friendship Thranduil and Elrond shared. He speculated that the King’s children also knew of the bond, but Erestor was aware of the fact that none of Elrond’s children had been told the truth of the matter. Perhaps now was the time. “King Thranduil is not as the rumors tell him to be.”

“That I can see clearly. So then why do the rumors say such? Why do they say that Ada anng Tng Thranduil hold one another in such contempt if they aren’t true?”

Sighing softly, Erestor took hold of Elrohir’s arm and steered them both away from the door, shutting it quietly after him. He led the twin to the library, motioning for Elrohir to claim a seat before Erestor took one for himself. For a few moments there was nothing but silence as the counselor gazed out of the window and the twin fidgeted with a sleeve. “It’s all for pretenses,” Erestor finally said.

“Pretenses?” Elrohir’s eyes were filled with questions as he looked up at Erestor, who returned his gazed with an unwavering gray-blue stare. “Why would there be need for pretenses?”

“You know of the Kinslayings, pen-neth. Even now, after all these years, some of the Sindar hold the Noldor in contempt though the ones who participated are gone from this world. Oropher, Thranduil’s father, was one of those people. In all outward appearances, Thranduil was much like his father. However, Thranduil, then a prince, had befriended Elrond, who he saw as an intellectual and an elf who had suffered much loss in his life.
“You see,” Erestor continued, “Thranduil and Elrond had met during the Last Alliance. By then, Elros had already passed from the world and it was well known to many from who Elrond was descended. Knowing that Elrond had family ties to the sons of Fingolfin, who had been present at the Kinslayings, had hardened Oropher’s heart to him. But Thranduil was of a different mind; he did not believe in blaming one for the past actions of a person’s ancestors. As far as Thranduil was concerned, Elrond was innocent of those crimes and did not deserve to be hated for crimes at which he was not even present.”

“Why, then, did King Thranduil not try to make his father see the error of his reasoning?”

“Who says he did not? Thranduil tried, but Oropher would not listen. In the end, Thranduil gave up, but kept his friendship to Elrond a secret from his father. They agreed to keep everything hidden from others, especially those of the Sindar who felt the same as Oropher. Few knew of the masks of hatred and contempt they both wore when each spoke of the other. Glorfindel and I knew, of course, as did Lindir who secretly carried messages between them.”

“Messages?”

“Thranduil was in love with your father during that time, pen-neth.” He could have been a little more tactful, but Erestor felt that the young Peredhel needed to know about his father’s history.

Elrohir sat still, flabbergasted by the news. The Woodland King had been in love with Elrond? That was quite a bit of shocking revelation to be handed with so soon after his mother had just left,. But Elrohir found that it did not bother him so much, and that all the pieces of the mystery that might have arisen surrounding Thranduil‘s visit were falling into place. “Did Ada…”

“Know?” Erestor shook his head. “Perhaps he did, but I am unaware of such. Gil-galad and Elrond had been lovers before the Last Alliance; but the love between them had waned a little after Elrond founded Imladris. And shortly after the battle in which Sauron was defeated, both Thranduil and Elrond married others.”

The Peredhel sat silently, trying to digest the information Erestor had just related to him. It was shocking to discover that there was nothing but friendship between the elven lords all this time, at least on Elrond‘s part. Even Elrohir, as perhaps his siblings and most of Imladris, had been led to believe that Elrond did not like Thranduil in the slightest. He wondered if Thranduil’s children knew of the charade or were also oblivious. “Do you think,” Elrohir mused aloud, “that the King might still love Ada?”

“I do not know,” Erestor replied. “But whether he still does or not, Thranduil may be one of our last chances to keep Elrond on this earth with us. He was present when Gil-galad died; Elrond was distraught at that time, but somehow Thranduil managed to keep him with us. I do not know what he did or what he said, but perhaps he can do it again. Thranduil is not what the tales make him out to be. Yes, he can be arrogant at times, but he takes a great deal of pride in his accomplishments and has great love for his people. But he is also kind and just, judging others only when he has received a clear glimpse of their character.” Erestor reached over, lightly squeezing one of Elrohir’s hands for reassurance. “Trust him, pen-neth. He will not let your father leave us without a fight.”

Elrohir nodded, smiling slightly. “I believe you, Erestor. And I will put my trust in King Thranduil. If he can keep Ada here with us, I will be eternally grateful to him.” He gave a brighter smile, to which Erestor gave one of his own. The pair spent the rest of the evening discussing other things until the chimes sounded the time to gather for the evening meal.

TBC...