Meleth-nin

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. And I’m not him. Damn it.

A/N: Warm thanks to everyone who reviewed, cheers mates. Special thanks to Dirty Man Candy Matt for your e-mail, you made my day mate. :) Feedback indeed is a lovely thing.

Oh, and before I forget. Some of you may be reading my other fic, Don’t cry these tears for me as well, and have probably noticed that I haven’t updated that story for awhile. Worry not; I WILL finish it, as soon as I’m done with Meleth-nin. :) Just thought you would like to know. But ‘nuff said, hope you enjoy the newest chapter.

thoughts
~farspeech~ (used by Elladan and Elrohir)


Chapter twenty-nine


A stunned silence met King Thranduil’s words. Legolas looked at his father with a neutral expression on his face, the calmness of his demeanour belying his anger, while Aragorn was robbed of words by sheer outrage. How dare that pompous Elf King march in their bedroom and speak so boldly? How dare he threaten Legolas in his presence? Without even noticing doing so, the King wound his arm around his mate’s slender shoulders, wanting to protect him from Thranduil and his madness.

“The day you take Legolas from my side by force will be your dying day”, he promised darkly. “Would you have a war with Gondor, Thranduil King? For I would come and fight until Legolas was with me again.”

Thranduil’s emerald green eyes regarded him with contempt. “You would send your men to death over a bed partner of yours? Does the selfishness of Men know no boundaries?”

“You speak of selfishness?” King Elessar said grimly. “You threaten to take away my husband and my child, against Legolas’ will I might add, and you speak of selfishness? Such is the selfishness of this Man, that I would sacrifice everything for Legolas and his happiness. Can you say the same, Thranduil?”

King Thranduil laughed then, but there was no real mirth in it. “Do not speak of something you know naught of, Human. Sacrifices, you say? Everything you have has been given to you; you have had to sacrifice nothing to become what you now are. And what are you? The King of Men? That title hardly impresses me, even if my fool of a son seems to hold you in high regard for whatever reason. You have done nothing to gain my respect, Human. I doubt you ever will.”

Aragorn’s face had paled and anger flashed in his stormy grey eyes. “You would do well to not insult my beloved. Had you come here in peace we would have welcomed you, and mayhap Legolas would have wanted to visit your realm, but your words and behaviour have ensured that I do not want you near my family. Not before you have conquered this madness, your Majesty.”

“You do not tell me how I speak of my son”, the Elf King growled, anger making his face flush. He turned to look at his son and spoke commandingly. “Legolas, you are to leave with me immediately. That Man is not worth you and will never make you happy.”

Legolas was very still, his breathing regular but the intensity of his blue gaze spoke volumes. His father had not changed one bit.
“Have you taken leave of your senses, Ada?” the young Elf said sharply. “Those days are long gone when you could bark me orders and expect me to obey them. Can you not understand that I am not your little Elfling anymore? Can you not open your eyes and see the grown Elf I have become?” His tone was harsh but his eyes were pleading. Can you not give me any credit, Adar? Can you not respect the choices I have made?

Thranduil King glared heatedly at the Man who had wrapped his arms protectively around his youngest child. It was because of that Man that his son defied him, refused to return to the Halls of his Father, and denied the King of Mirkwood the only thing that mattered to him; his love and devotion.

“If you wish to be treated like a grown-up then act like one”, Thranduil said coldly. “Those temper tantrums do not become the Prince Consort of Gondor. Indeed, it is hard for me to remember that you no longer are a child, when all your words and actions tell me otherwise!”

“That is enough.” Aragorn’s voice was commanding. “Thranduil King, this is neither the time nor the place to discuss these things. You interrupted a private moment between my husband and myself, and I am forced to ask you to leave. Perhaps we can talk later, when all of us have calmed down.”

“I would strongly recommend that you keep your words to yourself, Elessar”, Thranduil sneered. It prickled his pride to see how Legolas clung to his mate, and looked at him, his father, with an expression of resentment and defiance on his face that was very much like Thranduil’s own. However, whereas Legolas’ facial features were delicate and well-defined, the King’s were hard and angular. No-one would ever call the Mirkwood King beautiful if they wanted to live to tell about it; his face was more to be described as handsome.

“Legolas, you are my youngest”, Thranduil said with a softened voice. Even he could see that by making demands he would gain nothing; his son would simply shut him out and refuse to listen. “Your brothers and I, we miss you. Would you not come home with me? I only want what is best for you. Together we could care for your child, and you wouldn’t have to depend on that Man.”

Legolas fished his tunic from the floor where he had dropped it earlier and dressed up quickly. He then looked at his father evenly and beckoned him closer. Hesitantly the Elf King walked to stand beside the bed and let Legolas take his hand on his. The younger Elf gently pressed his father’s hand against his swollen stomach. “Feel him, Adar. This is your grandson.”

His expression softened and he looked at the older Elf, preparing to make a point. “This is also a child of mine and my husband’s. Do you expect me to take Aragorn’s son away from him? You say that you love me and wish the best for me. I want that for my own child, too. And Aragorn and I together is what is best for my baby. I will not come with you, not willingly and not by force.”

Thranduil swallowed with difficulty. Never before had Legolas spoken to him like that, with such maturity and grace; spoken like a mature Elf, an Elf that was bonded and expecting his firstborn. When had his little Greenleaf grown up? The
thought of losing his youngest and most beloved child brought almost tears to the harsh King’s eyes, but with years of practice he kept them at bay.

“I just want to protect you, calenlass”, he whispered, using a very old nick-name from his son’s childhood years, stroking Legolas’ high cheekbone with his thumb. “I would rather have you hate me than be miserable with that Human.”

“I am not miserable with Aragorn”, Legolas said softly, leaning into his father’s touch. “I am truly content and happy with my life with him. We are both very excited about the baby. I would like to have you in his life, as well. But only if you cease this talk about forcing me to come with you.”

Thranduil was quiet for a long time. Aragorn stroked Legolas’ back tenderly and was very proud of the way his husband had handled his father who could be very hard-headed and stubborn. “You are right, Elessar”, the King of Mirkwood said at length. “I think it is best we talk later. There is much I need to think about.”

He bowed down at the Royal couple of Gondor a bit stiffly and left the room, closing the door very carefully behind him. In the corridor he almost collided with the twins.

“If you have harmed Legolas in any way, I swear, we will—“ Elrohir began threateningly, but stopped in mid-sentence as he saw how the Elf King looked. “Is everything alright, King Thranduil?”

The King didn’t answer his question but spoke to himself. “Alas, the folly of the line of Oropher! The pride of my father will be the doom of me one day.”

Elrohir glanced at his brother. ~Go and find Ada. Thranduil is acting strangely.~


*~*~*~*~*~*


Back in Aragorn and Legolas’ bedchamber the Elf leaned his back on his husband’s chest. “I am so sorry for my father’s behaviour”, he breathed and closed his eyes. “I cannot come with any excuses for it. He had no right to speak to you thusly.”

“Shush, beloved”, the Man said, resting his chin on Legolas’ shoulder. “What your father does or says is not your fault or your responsibility. And it was not like he was wrong about everything; he was right about me.”

The Prince turned around in his husband’s embrace, detecting a melancholy tone in his mate’s voice and met his eyes curiously. “What do you speak of, Estel?”

“Your father spoke of my title, my status and how it has been given to me. He is right. I know naught of sacrifices”, Aragorn replied grimly. “I have always been a favoured one; the Valar have given me the most beautiful Elf on Arda for a mate, and I have a Kingdom to rule. Naught of it is deserved.”

He had tried not to show it in front of his father-in-law, but his words had wounded him greatly. A part of him had always thought that he was unworthy, lacking. To hear it said aloud was like a punch in the gut and brought all of his insecurities back to the surface. He didn’t deserve Legolas. He didn’t deserve any of it; and that thought was killing him.

“That is not true. You have given yourself”, the Elf replied gently. “You have given up Estel to become Strider, then Strider to become Aragorn. And in the end you had to give up Aragorn to claim the throne and become King Elessar of Gondor. So speak not of not being enough, of not making sacrifices. No-one could ever ask more of you.”

“What about the Quest of the Ring? Frodo gave his soul, his sanity, his whole being. You and I both know that the Hobbit that returned from the Mount Doom was not the same Hobbit that left Rivendell with us. Something was lost in Mordor, something he never got back. And Boromir… He was a valiant warrior, a good Man and a respected friend. He never saw Gondor again, restored in its former glory”, Aragorn spoke bitterly. These thoughts had never left him. The guilt for not being able to save Boromir, for not being able to protect Frodo had weighed on his heart for a long time. They were but a few on his long list of failures. “Please, Legolas, you do not need to speak to me of my sacrifices. We all have had to sacrifice something, and none more than Frodo and Boromir.”

“Frodo left this part of the world for he felt there was nothing for him here, nothing that could keep the emptiness of his heart at bay”, Legolas said. “He is in Valinor now, and he is healed. His soul is now complete and at peace. And know this, Aragorn; I spoke with him ere his departure, and he told me something he had told no-one before. He told me of the emptiness that invaded his mind, of the dark feelings that made his heart heavy; and he said that the One Ring would never stop haunting his thoughts.

But he also said that he regretted nothing, that despite everything the Quest cost him it was worth it, for the world he knew and grew in was safe, and everyone he loved and cherished was free; and the Dark Lord was forever defeated. Frodo knew that the Quest would cost him his soul, and he made the choice to see it to its end nevertheless. Mourn not for him, melethron, for it was a choice freely made and a price willingly paid.”

“And what of Boromir?” Aragorn asked. “He succumbed to the lure of the Ring, and I could do naught to save him. I came too late; he was already dying. And little do we know of the afterlife of Men.”

“Boromir was a Man who knew himself. He was not a sacrificial lamb who was lead to his Doom. He fought the call of the Ring for a long time, and didn’t give in to it even in the end. Think you that he would have defended Merry and Pippin the way he did, instead of trying to track down the Ringbearer, had he lost his soul to it?” the Elf asked, looking at his husband kindly. “Nay, husband. Boromir fought the Ring, like he fought the Uruk-hai, and even if the latter overtook him in the end, he did not lose himself.”

Gently, Legolas took a hold of Aragorn’s jaw and turned his head to him. Determined blue eyes met anguished grey ones. “We all knew that the Quest could be perilous. Boromir did not fear death; all he feared was that the White City would be lost to the one Enemy. He trusted you to not let Minas Tirith fall, and his trust was well placed. That was all he asked for; not a safe return for himself, but for the King.”

As a reply the Man took his mate into a fierce embrace. Legolas stroked his hair soothingly, murmuring words of love and devotion into his ears in Elvish.

“Legolas… You are my salvation”, the King whispered against his Elf’s slightly damp neck; Legolas’ skin was smooth and clean, as it always was. “Let me lose myself in you.”

Legolas lay back on the bed, his long blonde hair spilling over the pillows. His dark eyes burned with a passion unspent and ensnared the Man anew. Gently the Human lowered himself on his mate’s slender body and took his lips in a heated kiss.


*~*~*~*~*~*

Elrond’s study


“Adar, you are needed!” Elladan panted, having run all the way from the guest wing to his father’s quarters. Luckily his father was in his study, doing some research concerning male pregnancies and childbirths. The child wasn’t due in another month, but Lord Elrond wanted to be well prepared when the time came.

The Elf Lord raised his eyes from the parchment on the table and looked at his flushed son. “What is it that makes you forget about your manners, Elladan? Is everything alright with Legolas and the baby?” He asked worriedly, standing up.

“Nay, ‘tis Legolas’ sire, Thranduil. He arrived here not an hour ago, and told us in no uncertain terms that he was taking Legolas back to Mirkwood with him. Before we could stop him, he stormed off. We only found him later, when he was coming out of Estel and Legolas’ quarters, and he was acting really strangely”, Elladan quickly summarized. “I think your healing skills are needed. As much as we don’t like King Thranduil, we don’t want anything to happen to him; after all, he is Legolas’ father.”

Elrond nodded curtly and grabbed his bag of healing herbs. “Where is he now?”

“Elrohir said he would take him to the Halls of Healing. We believe something is seriously wrong with him”, his son answered, glancing at his father worriedly.

“Hmm”, was all Lord Elrond said. He was surprised to hear of Thranduil’s sudden arrival and the reasons behind it, but that was of no importance now. If something indeed was wrong with the King – and in all likelihood something was wrong since his sons said so, and he trusted their judgment - he would try and do his best to help him.

Elrohir looked up from the King as his father entered the Hall. “Adar”, he said anxiously and released Thranduil’s hand he had been holding. “He is getting cold. Something is gravely amiss!”

“Let me look”, Lord Elrond said and gently pushed his son away from the Elf King that lay on one of the beds. His eyes were barely open and his breathing uneven. Elrond couldn’t help flinching when his hand came in contact with Thranduil’s skin. “He indeed is very cold!”

“What is it, Ada?” The twins said in unison, frightened by their father’s face that had paled drastically.

“King Thranduil is fading, and he is fading very quickly. Sons, go and get Legolas here immediately. He will wish to be with his father when his end comes”, the Elf Lord said seriously. “For I indeed fear that his end is near.”


TBC…

A/N: Cliffie again… bad author! Anyways, hope you liked, please review. :)