Three long years

Eryn Lasgalen.

Legolas sat, cross legged, on the damp moss near the lake. Its crystal-clear water shone like a gem, reflecting the cloudless sky above him. The breeze brought him the scent of the forest. Joy, relief, completude washed over him, send by the trees themselves to ease his heartache. The elf closed his eyes, and touched the bark of a willow tree that engulfed him in a hug. His luxurious leaves were basking in the sun without fear, thanking him for his sacrifice, chanting his praise for defeating Sauron and giving them another chance at life.

In truth, their reassurances gave him a little respite from his aching soul, some balm on the ghastly wound that had torn his heart to shreds. Legolas often came here, on the banks of this childhood lake. Many happy memories lingered in this place, some of his mother and even those of his father, laughing, his blue eyes shining with joy as he contemplated his wife and son soaked in a water battle. For many a year, Legolas had resented his father's absence from his life when he needed him the most, his beloved mother's death taking both his parents away from him. The King was unable to surface from his grief to give his own son the much-needed support he craved.

But now he understood; forgiveness came along a newfound respect for his father. Himself would not have been able to take care of an elfling, for his strength was failing him and his soul fading. But the King was denied such a fate, and had faced his responsibility to the kingdom of Greenwood. Legolas ignored, until then, the extend of the weight on his father's shoulders. It shed a new light on his taciturn disposition, and the lack of light in his eyes. Thranduil was not allowed to fade; he never gave up. For his son, for his people, for the forest that was now regaining its former strength and glory.

Legolas closed his eyes, falling in a trance as the energy of the tree enveloped him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, the sound of rushing waves disturbed his communion with the willow tree, the sea longing forcing its way in. But the plant accepted it, integrating the rolling song of the waves to his own soothing lullaby, its energy flowing in and out like a tide around Legolas' feä.

The sun continued its course, unperturbed by the life of those little beings below, lowering on the horizon. The soothing song of the tree increased in fervour, the rhythm more joyful, anticipation rising in the rushing lifeblood below its bark. Legolas' eyes opened, awakened by the sudden mirth in the clearing. There was only one being that could muster such a merry dance, one being whose inner Feä was strongly intertwined to the forest, its most faithful guardian.

"Ion nín. I have such fond memories of this place."

Legolas turned around, greeting his father with a smile.

"So do I. It always soothes my soul."

Thranduil held his hand, face serious, eyes so intense that few Ellyn could bear it.

"Come, we must talk."

Father and son, hair shining in the setting sun, started walking along the lake's bank. Thranduil kept silent for a while, looking for the right words. But in truth, there were none that could ease his suffering, nor his son's.

"I had hoped that the forest could cure your ailment, but I have come to accept I was misled."

Legolas shook his head, his face desolate.

"Nay father, it has helped. But it did not cure you, and you know I do not have the same affinity with Greenwood."

Thranduil's breath hitched, and he stopped in his tracks, his jaw slack. How stupid of him, to think that he had been stealthy enough for his son not to realise his own heartache! Of course, Legolas knew how he suffered, how his mother's absence had broken him. Who was he kidding? To think that his shift in character went unnoticed, even when he kept Legolas' at arm's length?

And even if he could claim that Dol Guldur's sickness had poisoned his mind as much as it had poisoned his forest, the reason for his ruthlessness resided elsewhere. Someday, he would have to apologise to his son for not being a proper father at the time he needed it most.

Someday… Maybe it was time, after all, to right some wrongs, but Legolas had other ideas.

"Nothing can cure me I am afraid."

Thranduil's fingers shook as he took his son's hand.

"There is but one thing that could help you, ion nín. And even if I am reluctant to part from you, I would rather see you go than fade."

Legolas' eyes widened, searching his father's gaze.

"You would have me sail," he said in disbelief.

"Not for the world, not if I could help it. But those last three years have taught me that I can't. Son, nothing short of Aman's peace can save you."

Thrandhuil sighed, his eyes blurring as he watched the lake where his only son had learnt to swim.

"I have tried everything that is within my power, and failed miserably. I have seen your efforts, seen you dance, and laugh, and partake in princely duties, rejoice with friends of old, reorganise the borders, and push yourself too hard."

Legolas ducked his head with a flush. Yes, he had done tremendous efforts to keep going, not only for the sake of the Greenwood. Deep down, it was Frances' pleas – the promise – that had propelled him forward. He would never admit it, though, so he kept silent as his father went on.

"That light in your eyes has faded, and only an idiot could ignore that your strength flees your body. Your laugh is hollow, so devoid of the joy that used to move my heart."

The admission shocked him; never had his father conveyed his feelings so clearly. Deep blue eyes met icy ones as he searched for the truth in Thrandhuil's gaze.

"Do not mistake my meaning, Legolas," his father said, both hands resting upon his shoulders. "I am proud of you, of your achievements, of all you have done for our people and your dedication. But you cannot go on forever, ion nín. This is draining you, you are fading and there is nothing I can do to prevent it."

Face to face, both ellyn looked so alike that one could have mistaken them as twin brothers. Yet, the forest would not be fooled. The light in the prince was dim, a flame almost extinguished, while the King's had renewed when the shadow passed.

"Ada…"

"I would go with you, if you so wish it."

Legolas swallowed, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His father, King of Greenwood, was ready to abandon his kingdom, his life's duty – three thousand years! – to follow him to Valinor. Had there ever been a stronger token of love from a father to a son in all of Arda's history? Legolas felt like an elfling, looking up to his father and watching this incredible, invincible ellon towering above him.

"How did you survive, Ada? How did you not fade when naneth passed?"

Thrandhuil's eyes became liquid, and he lifted his hand to touch Legolas' cheek.

"I had you. You saved me, and the Greenwood without even noticing."

Legolas sighed, and dropped his gaze to gather his thoughts. No matter how strong his desire to keep his father close, he could not deprive him of his well-earned respite, and the kingdom from his King.

"Ada. I will not part you from the forest. All your life, you took care of the Greenwood. If I do not succeed you, at least I won't take you away."

Thranduil sighed, and let his deep gaze wander around the woods surrounding the lake. The trees rustled under the touch of his Feä, thanking him for his dedication and love.

"It is a difficult decision for me, the toughest I have made as a King and a father. I now realise that I raised you as a Prince, but you were never meant to replace me here. You were meant to be a great warrior in the war of the ring, and free Arda from the evil of the great shadow. You have played your part well, ion nín. It is now time to rest"

Legolas nodded, a light of uncertainty surfacing in his deep blue eyes.

"I fear I have taken an oath, to Aragorn, to stay in middle earth until he passed."

To this, the King almost growled.

"He is but a mortal!"

"Ada…"

Legolas' warning sobered him. Surely now was not the time to fight over Legolas' friendships.

"Talk to him. If King Elessar is your friend, he will see the truth in your plea."

Legolas nodded, lost in thoughts. Never before had he broken an oath, but he doubted he could survive a century in middle earth without fading.

Every time Frances tried to convey some reassurance through their bond, Legolas felt her despair growing. Deep down, it was nor joy nor hope she was sending. A soft smile graced his lips; even a world away from him, Frances was as stubborn as ever. Her human nature simply refused to back down, three years was a long time for such a young soul. He needed to let go, for her sake as well as for his, he needed to help her find solace, and acceptance.

"I will sail Ada, I will answer the call of the sea."