And There Was Trouble Taking Place

Chapter 7

Imladris, the same morning

Legolas walked behind a servant, a little puzzled because said servant had appeared at his door and told him that the Lord of Imladris requested his presence in his private chambers. Legolas had met Elrond many times before, always in his office. He was aware of Elrond’s reputation and briefly wondered if he had caught the Lord’s eye. Knowing more about Elrond than most, he dismissed the idea as improbable.

Elrond’s rooms were in the middle of the building on the third floor, directly above the main entrance and it took a little while to get there from the wing where Legolas’ chamber was situated. They arrived and the servant opened the door, pushing the prince gently inside as he announced him.

“Please, Legolas, come in and join me here,” Elrond called from his balcony.

“Thank you, my Lord.” Legolas sat down at a bountiful breakfast table and took in his surroundings. Elrond’s sitting room was comfortably decorated. Warm-coloured tapestries covered the cold stone walls; books and scrolls all but buried the side tables and cupboards. There was a group of chairs and a well-worn brown leather sofa that had no doubt been used for reading and relaxing on many a lazy Sunday afternoon over the centuries. Thick, burgundy rugs on the floor and fresh flowers around the room made it feel, with the lack of a better word, homey. “You have very restful rooms.”

“Thank you; I try. This has to be the last corner of the Homely House that Arwen has not been able to redecorate. I keep telling her ‘no’ time and again, but I do not know how much longer I can last. The fact that she helped me decorate this when the third floor was built seems to bear no significance. She wants to do it again.” Elrond rolled his eyes. “It is a beautiful day and I enjoy the scene from here. I hope you do not mind the less official setting?”

“Not at all. I assume you are ready to hear my father’s message?”

“Ah yes, but let us leave that be for a while longer. I would rather hear how things really are in Mirkwood.” Elrond munched on a pastry. “Please help yourself; our cook makes the most enjoyable cram; not the dry, tasteless thing Men make in Dale, but one full of honey and nuts. Perhaps it should not be called cram anymore, but since the basic ingredients are the same, no one has bothered to think about a new, more fitting name.”

“Thank you. You are most generous.” Legolas poured himself some tea. The scent of it reminded him of meadows at the end of the summer. There were raspberries, black currants, red clovers, honey and did he detect a hint of nutmeg? “Delicious blend. Is this an Imladris secret, or do you think your cook could give me the recipe?”

“Ah, this one. You will have to ask Erestor for the recipe.”

“Erestor?”

“Aye, it is called Erestor’s Late Summer Symphony. It is also my favourite. The different tastes and scents are in perfect balance.” Elrond took another sip from his cup, breathing in deep the aromas wafting from it. “Very few people know this but Erestor is responsible for many of our cooking delights. He is an accomplished herbalist, and has several concoctions of herbs and flowers and berries to his name. We use them in cold drinks, warm drinks, soups, stews – basically, in anything you can imagine. Some of them he makes with a particular purpose in mind, like this drink we are enjoying now, but all of them can be used in various ways. Symphony for example makes for a very restoring bath in the middle of the coldest winter.”

“I see. I shall ask him then.” Legolas was not surprised by anything concerning Elrond’s chief advisor.

“How are you faring in Mirkwood? I receive reports and letters from Thranduil but they disclose so little. I suspect things are worse than he lets on.”

“He is a king, proud and noble. Complaining about hardship is not in his nature. Nevertheless, you are right; things are not as he tells you. Spiders and orcs grow bolder and advance on Mirkwood’s borders. We are still able to fight them, but to do that we have had to double the amount of elves in our patrols.” Legolas continued to give Elrond a full account of the situation in Mirkwood, pausing here and there to drink from his tea or have more of the delicious cram. They talked about trivial matters for quite a while and Legolas felt they were dancing around the real subject of the discussion. So he decided to take matters in his own hands. “My Lord, let us talk about what you really want to know.”

“And what might that be?”

“My father, of course.”

“Have you listened to talk in the halls?” Elrond narrowed his eyes. He did not want to, but had found himself helpless to stop from doing so when people talked about Thranduil. He was already suspicious that everyone was against him in the matter and the experience that morning had not helped at all. He supposed that even he considered himself guilty.

“That too,” answered Legolas with a grin. “But since rumours are not always trustworthy, I asked him. I wondered why he never visits Imladris personally anymore, when he often stays in Lórien in realm dealings. We come here under no circumstances, not even if we are just a stone’s throw away. Ada (father) would rather spend his night in a tent than come to you. That is uncommon, as you doubtless know, since my father likes his bed soft and his bath warm if it is reasonably attainable.”

“You asked him?”

“I asked him if the rumours were true. That you were lovers, had a disagreement, and now are not speaking with each other anymore.” Legolas laughed. “He had the same expression you have now. Thranduil might keep things from me for what he thinks is my own benefit, but if I ask, he answers. He told me everything from the first moment he laid eyes on you, until the day he rode from Imladris and swore never to return again.”

“He did?” Elrond was going to strangle Thranduil the next time they met. Not that it was going to be anytime soon, but he was immortal and patient; he had time to wait.

“Aye, he did. He had beautiful stories to tell. I did not know you were such a romantic, my Lord. However, not all the stories were beautiful. Some were sad, some funny. I believe he wanted to save me from the ugly truth of your break-up and I did not want to pressure him. I did not ask for particulars, but considering your reputation it is reasonably easy to come up with the reason for it.”

“It is?”

“Surely there is some truth to even the most outrageous hallway talk,” Legolas rebuked Elrond gently. “My father has never been one to share his possessions. I can understand him not having problems with Celebrían, because she was your wife after all, but anyone beside her would have been an insult and a stab to his heart. He does not give himself easily and would expect his gift to be treated with reverence and love. Sharing your bed with others shows neither. Thranduil does not live in abstinence now that you are gone from his life, but I know he has not taken a new lover.”

“He has not?”

“No. There never was anyone else but you. Not while I have been with him, and I was an elfling when the War of the Last Alliance ended. Of course, surviving the shock of losing both my birth mother and father in that battle would have distracted me from noticing too much about the traffic in and out of Thranduil’s bedchambers. I admit, I never caught you sneaking around, but I remember you were always in the western guest rooms with the secret passage to my father’s rooms. Nevertheless, for the few years I slept in his rooms, I never once woke to anyone knocking on his door.”

“Can you still remember your mother?” Was this his best attempt at trying to steer the conversation in another direction? Pathetic. He was thrice the age of Legolas and this is what he came up with? Of course Legolas remembered his mother. How could he not? She was Thranduil’s sister and pictures of her were hung on the walls of the Mirkwood caves.

“I can, my Lord, and I remember my father, too. I believe the pictures of our loved ones are forever imprinted to our minds. I miss them, almost everyday. But it is not an urgent, demanding feeling, more like a dull ache somewhere deep inside of me. I love Thranduil, never question that. I love him more than anything. He is my ada, in every sense of the word, even if he was not present at my conception. He kept my nightmares at bay, sang to me when I woke up in the middle of the night crying, held me in his arms when I needed my nana. I know he does not need it, but I am fiercely protective of him.”

“You are?”

“If I have the possibility to do something for him, I will. He has been there for me all my life, and I like to be able to pay back at least a little. Not all elves are masters at the affairs of the heart and it is not difficult to lose sight of what is important when deep emotions are involved. I know my father misses you but would never admit to it if asked. He is a bit of a fool where you are concerned.”

“He is?”

“He is. You are not doing much better, my Lord. It is you, after all, that has the bigger part of the responsibility. But we shall not dwell on placing the blame. We shall concentrate on rectifying the situation. That is if you are willing.” Legolas looked deep in Elrond’s eyes and was content with what he saw. “My father misses you. Very much. He did not tell me so, but the elves he takes to his bed as consolation all have long auburn hair and a body structure strikingly similar to yours.”

“They do?”

“Narrow hips, long limbs, medium shoulders and a very nice looking ass. What they of course lack is your faer (soul) and that is what my ada is so desperately searching for, my Lord.”

“What?” Elrond wanted to scream every time Legolas called him ‘my Lord’. There was a smirking quality to it and he felt Legolas was mocking him.

“To get you back together, you need to apologize and he needs to listen. I can aid with that. I know how to gain his attention and what kind of an apology will have the right effect. We have to find the perfect, romantic place for it and I shall plan a menu to sweep him off his feet. Perhaps, I could ask Master Erestor if he has any herbal blends that could aid in the matter. In addition, if I may be so bold, you will have to change your licentious ways.”

“I do?”

“Naturally, my Lord. There is no sense in us working hard on your reconciliation if my ada is to find you in bed with another again. You can never live together in Middle-Earth. This is something you need to comprehend. You have a realm to govern and he has his kingdom. That does not mean you cannot love each other deeply. Love is and should be more important than physical gratification. You of all people should be able to appreciate celibacy when it is done for a loved one.”

“I should?”

“I shall come up with a cunning plan to get you two in the same place at the same time. You can start thinking about your apology. I will go through it with you later to see it is adequate. I shall remain here in Imladris until our plans are finalized.”

“Erh… aye?”

“So, we are agreed? Great. Thank you for the refreshments and the talk.” Legolas stood up and walked to the door, hesitating for a moment before grabbing the handle and turning to look at Elrond. “You hurt him, more than anyone has ever done before. However, I believe your heart to be true and that you truly love him. Therefore I will help you. My father’s happiness means everything to me.” He paused and then added almost as an afterthought, though reflecting on it later Elrond was sure that was the one thing Legolas had wanted off his chest from the beginning of their conversation, “But also know this, my Lord. If you ever use him again, I will personally make sure it is the last thing you do.” Legolas took a bow and stepped out of the room.

Elrond stared at the closed door and felt a little light-headed. He had no idea what had just happened except that Legolas had threatened him! Threatened him, the Lord of Imladris. Ai, that whelp. Before he managed to get himself worked up to a righteous anger, a memory from the past came to him. Thranduil barging in his rooms, a servant behind him, trying to keep him away and the look on the king’s face when he saw Elrond cradled in the arms of another. It had been months since they had last seen each other, and Elrond had needed relief, taking a young, willing elf to his bed. A bottle of wine and two glasses in his possession, Thranduil came face to face with his treacherous lover. He let the bottle slip from his fingers, wine spilling everywhere, and silent tears run down the beautiful face of the Woodland King. Thranduil spoke so softly that Elrond had had to strain to hear him. “You will never see me again” was the last sentence Elrond had ever heard from his lover’s mouth.

Elrond sighed, Legolas was right; he could not hurt Thranduil again. If he did, he would willingly serve as a target for Legolas’ archery practice. He made the decision then and there. He would let Thranduil go. He walked to his desk, sat down, took a piece of parchment and began to write a letter.


TBC


Author’s notes: I chose not to make Thranduil Legolas’ birth father because I didn’t want to have another elven lord trapped in a loveless het marriage in the story. It’s not exactly non-canon either as far as I know. There’s no talk about Thranduil’s wife anywhere in Tolkien’s works, so it is safe to assume he had none. And that leads me to think Leggy is not born of Thranduil. In this story I made him Thranduil’s nephew/adopted son. I believe the heart of elves to be big enough to consider learned ties of love as important and special as biological ones.

Thank you, once again, for reading!