The Fourth Age

Chapter 1: Seeing is Believing

Italics - Elvish

A.N. I'm not sure if we are specifically told that Thranduil sails for the Undying Lands, but after watching the new Hobbit films I just can't see him abandoning the forest, and in turn, I can't see Legolas abandoning his father. In this AU, the Wood Elves remain in Middle Earth as do the Wizards. The Dwarves, I gather, face a serious population problem but I don't think they all up and leave Middle Earth after the 'Return of the King'.

As for the other kings, from what I've read, please correct me if I'm wrong, Bard II is king of Dale, though it was attacked during the Battle of Dale in which his father died, and Thorin III Stonehelm, is King Under the Mountain.

A year had passed since the coronation of King Aragorn II Elessa of the great Kingdom of Gondor during which time, the Hobbits had departed for the Shire. The remaining repairs to the kingdom continued through all hours of daylight and now, as the workmen were laying down their tools for the night, Legolas meandered through the King's grand courtyard heading for the stables, with his long time friend, now the rightful King of Gondor.

"It is time then? Where will you go?" Aragorn asked.

"...Home," Legolas answered with a small smile, "I've been away for far too long," he added.

"I remember you told me once that you'd never return."

"That was a long time ago," the elf sighed.

"Are your people to cross the sea?" Aragon asked softly.

"I do not know. My people are different from our kin...and yet we are still Elves. Should the Valar call us away...I fear I hear it too. I feel it but I cannot...I will not...I know that many of my kin have departed these shores but I would feel it if it were true of my people."

"I've not heard it said that the Woodland Elves have departed," Aragorn said, supportively.

"I cannot imagine the woods without my people in them...without my father."

"You miss him," the king of men inferred.

"It surprises me as much as it does you, my friend,"

"Should I be surprised that a man misses his father?" Aragorn scoffed.

"We didn't exactly part on the best of terms all those years ago, and he was loathe to summon me back to discuss his representation in Rivendell," the elf said with regret as they entered the large, royal stables.

"All the more reason to return, then," his friend replied and the pale haired Elven prince nodded thoughtfully. "I will miss you, Legolas," he added after a moment setting his bejewelled hand atop his friend's shoulder.

"And I you," the Elf replied, mirroring the gesture, "I will return."

"I look forward to it," the King smiled. "But your leaving now is fotutitous for us both, my friend," he added enigmatically and the Elf raised an eyebrow, "This great city was left with few trading allies that my Lord Denethor would tolerate."

"You wish for me to broker an alliance?"

"If you think it possible. I've delayed in sending word to the Woodland Realm because I was unsure whether your people would be there to receive it and we have suffered great loses on both sides."

"Then it is indeed fotutitous that I am bound for home," the Elf replied rather smugly.

"Here's where you're hiding," Gimli called out, suddenly stepping through into the stables. They saw, to their great surprise, that he was dressed for travel, with his helmet, armour, axe and cloak.

"I didn't know we were hiding, did you?" Aragorn turned to Legolas who raised an amused eyebrow.

"What are you two up to?" the Dwarf asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm heading north," Legolas said, saddling one of the horses and mounting it agilely, "To the woods of my people."

"I though you Elves were all leaving...the call of the sea and all."

"My kin in Lothlórien and Rivendell have departed these shores," the Elf told him sadly, "But I believe my people of the woods mean to stay. There has been a great battle fought there and many were lost as my home burned. I must return, my future lies there now. I have duties I have long been neglecting."

He'd heard that the woods had been burned in a great battle, but if his people were willing to stay, there had to hope for their beloved woodland. In the days since that battle, there was talk of Mirkwood being given its name of old; the Greenwood, once more, or Eryn Lasgalen in the Elven tongue.

Despite their occasional differences, Legolas couldn't imagine the woods without his father to rule them, nor could he imagine his father sailing to the Undying lands and leaving his home behind.

"Hmm," Gimli hummed, "Sounds like quite the adventure."

"And what will you do, Gimli son of Glóin?" Legolas asked kindly, settling his green cloak over his shoulder as he sat astride his horse. His bow was strung onto his back with his quiver and a sword hung at his side. Aragorn handed him his small leather carrying bag and he swung it over the horse.

"Well, I...I hadn't really thought about it," the Dwarf shrugged.

"You could go with Legolas," Aragorn suggested with a smile.

"What? A Dwarf willingly enter Mirkwood?" Gimli exclaimed.

"The Greenwood," Legolas corrected.

"Whichever," the Dwarf rolled his eyes.

"Should you ever need to pass through the lands of my people, I will see that you and yours are welcome," the Elf told him solemnly. "It has been my honour to fight beside you, my friend."

"..." Gimli furrowed his brow, unsure of what to say.

"My wife will be disappointed, Legolas, she wanted to give you a great send off," Aragorn remarked.

"Give the Lady Arwen my regrets," the prince smiled back.

"Now, wait a minute," the Dwarf began, "I'm not going to stay here and lay down my axe while you go off and have all the fun, you hear me?"

"Fun?" Legolas repeated, incredulously.

"Aye, fun, those woods are full of creepy crawlers and my axe and I would be glad to do the job you pointy ears have been failing to do for years."

"I believe the woods have been cleared, Gimli," Aragorn said.

"How can you know for sure?"

"Well, you heard him, Legolas," the kind spoke to the Elf.

"I did, indeed, you would be most welcome among my people as Elf friend," Legolas said.

"That'll be the day,' Gimli muttered in disbelief.

That same night, King Thranduil Oropherion was in his private gardens that lay deep inside the walls of his palace. The soft layers of his flowing silver robes floated around his bare feet as the grass softy brushed against his pale toes. There seemed to be a permanent at furrow in his immortal brow as he paced the circular length of the space. Despite the fact that it was enclosed it had a great feeling of space and was centred around a circular water feature with wild grass and plants around it. It was a place that the King returned to when he was feeling pensive or troubled and there were several issues of great importance that weighed heavily on his mind.

The first and most important being that departure of most of his kin to the Undying Lands. Several of his own people had left for the shores as well, but in turn, some of the Elves of Lothlórien and Rivendell had asked to settle in his woods. Those who were not prepared to leave Middle Earth. His was a proud race of people and they had spent centuries defending their woodland realm, unlike his kin who had lived in relative peace by comparison. Thranduil had not had the advantage of a ring of power to protect his lands and so it had been the blood of his own people that had paid for its defence. Perhaps that was why they were so unwilling to leave.

The call of the sea was no stranger to the great King; he had felt it before, twice before, in fact. Once when his father had been slain and again when his wife had died, but each time he had ignored it through strength of will and he was concerned to note that it was becoming easier each time. He hadn't been able to abandon his people nor his young son and now he could not abandon his home.

The woods had been badly burned during the battle against the Easterlings that had invaded but it had encouraged an unlikely alliance of Elves, the men of Dale and Dwarves which had surprised the King to say the least.

Now his choices were simple; he could abandon these fledgling alliances as he had done before and once again, isolate his people from the rest of Middle Earth or he could do as he believed his son would do and step back into the world again.

Before the Lady Galadriel had departed for the seas she had cleansed the woods and given him her last words of council. He had thought much on those words in the months since.

It had been in his womb like library where he, Lady Galadriel and Lords Celeborn and Elrond had met for the last time.

"You feel it too, the ocean's call," the Lady said, gliding her long fingers across an old oak table littered with books, maps and scrolls.

"And if I do?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

"You still refuse to cross the sea, my friend," Elrond sighed.

"I cannot."

"You must," Celeborn said.

"Why must I?

"You cannot ignore it forever," Galadriel said, her piercing Elven gaze meeting his own.

"I cannot leave my people, I will not abandon my duties," the King stubbornly told her.

"The Valar calls us home, Thranduil; your duties are over," Elrond said sadly, walking over to his old friend, "Why do you torture yourself like this?"

"I have made my decision. I will not leave."

"This is the third time you have refused the sea, you may not hear its call again," Galadriel said.

Thranduil only sighed as he considered the thought but he couldn't bring himself to care as his companions seemed to. He had many more pressing concerns to consider.

"My son, my Legolas, does the sea call to him?" he asked after a moment.

"Undoubtedly," Celeborn said simply.

"Does he answer?"

"He does not," the Lady answered quickly, "He rebuilds Gondor with its new King."

"...King Strider, indeed," Thranduil gave a small smirk.

"I see much anguish for you should you remain here, Thranduil Oropherion but I also see the possibility for great joy," Galadriel spoke calmly.

Thranduil resisted the childish urge to roll his eyes at her typically unhelpful and riddle filled council.

"You'll be surprised to hear that are others of our kin who are as stubborn as you," Elrond quickly changed the subject. "They have travelled with us and, with your permission, here they will remain," he said.

"And you may escort those of mine who wish to leave, but I warn you, of those, there are few."

"You are sure about this?" Celeborn hesitated to ask.

"I am."

"Then fare thee well, old friend," Celeborn departed, leaving with the Elven gesture of his hand on his heart.

"...Mine is to be the last stronghold of our kin," Thranduil sighed.

"It is a heavy burden," Elrond remarked, "And you have already borne much."

"No more than is expected of me."

"You are king, my friend, not a martyr."

"Are they not the same?" Thranduil replied and Elrond hid a smile.

"So said your father," he replied kindly.

"Indeed he did," the King whispered, feeling the old sadness he'd long since buried, once more surfacing at the mere mention of his beloved father.

"I will tell him of you, and of Legolas," Elrond said.

"Thank you," the King replied quickly, not looking at his friend.

"I give you my last words of council, friend of old," the Lady began. "The world is not to be feared. It is to be embraced. Though the Age of Men has dawned and our time is passed, it does not mean that those who remain must shun the new world. You and yours have suffered greatly but so have Men. There is goodness to be found yet."

"My Lord?" a gentle voice called out to the King, pulling him from his recent memories, "My Lord?" the voice repeated and Thranduil quickly blinked away the scene and turned his attention towards the presence that had intruded on his reverie.

"Captain," he breathed, turning to see Tauriel, newly appointed Captain of the Greenwood Guard following the previous Captain's departure to the Undying Lands.

After the battle for Erebor, over sixty years ago now, Tauriel had wandered the world and had returned to the Woodland Realm months before the 'Fellowship of the Ring' had been formed. She had begged for forgiveness from her King and despite years of mounting bitterness for what he'd viewed as her betrayal, Thranduil had allowed her to remain. He had allowed her to earn back her position through a series of successful battles and missions and slowly, she was attempting to regain his trust. Very, very slowly.

"My Lord, your end meal table has been set," she told him.

"Have you forgotten your duties as Captain so quickly or is it so important to inform you King of his dinner arrangements?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Have you a wish to take Galion's station?" he asked shrewdly.

"I was thought to be best suited for the task, my King," she replied, "And Galion is otherwise occupied."

"Oh?"

"My Lord...may I speak freely?" the Captain asked tentatively.

"You have always done so, have you not?"

"The people are afraid. They fear for you and for themselves. They fear you will falter and making them fear you now is doing more harm than good," she blurted out.

"I am King, I do not have to be adored to do what is right," he replied tersely.

"I am aware of that, my Lord, and I mean you no disrespect, but I...I am concerned for you."

"It is not your place to concern yourself, Captain," Thranduil said, using her title to distance her from him. "You are to see to your duties, not waste time on trivialities," he said, walking past her and towards his quarters, "Good night."

Around sixty years ago after the great battle for Erebor, Tauriel, former Captain of the Guard had been summoned back to Mirkwood by the King. The Wood Elves had suffered terrible losses and none were too pleased to see their 'traitorous' Captain in their halls again. She had been scolded, shunned and though he had not raised his voice, nor had he been armed, Thranduil had terrified her more than when he'd cut down her bow on the battlefield.

She taken what she'd thought was her last look at her home and left, alone.

And then, then she'd heard tell of the Ring of Power and that Sauron was amassing his forces. She'd seen first-hand the darkness that was coming forth and eventually, she'd swallowed her pride and took the first steps into the forests of home. It hadn't taken long for her to be found and captured. Evidently, Thranduil's forces were on high alert, which was to be expected given their unfortunate proximity to Dol Guldur

"Tauriel of the Forest, your presence here is in violation of King Thranduil's order," one of the guards, one of her former guards told her with his sword drawn against her. His name, she remembered, was Aramár.

"You will leave at once," another, Ilimitar, a bowman, said.

"I am not here to do harm, I must see the King," she replied calmly, making no sudden movements.

"Why? Why should the King oblige you?" Aramár asked her.

"I come bearing news of ill tidings, the world is grown dark. I have seen the evil that is rising with my own eyes."

"The King is aware of the evil you speak of. Your words are unnecessary and your presence is forbidden," Ilimitar dismissed her.

"I mean to beg his forgiveness," she tried again, "Please...please...my friends..."

"Very well, but we take no responsibility for his actions," Ilimitar said before they lead her into the woods. They took her weapons as they would any uninvited trespasser into their lands and brought her before the King.

Thranduil had sneered down at her from the distance of his high throne as she was forced to her knees by the guards.

"What do you mean by returning here from whence you were banished, Elfling?" he asked simply, unemotionally, and without pretence.

"My Lord," Tauriel bowed, lowering her head submissively, swallowing her pride, "I beg your pardon for my actions."

"For which actions do you plead? Those of the past or of now breaching your banishment?"

"For both, your majesty, I am at your mercy, but I beg you let me speak before you pass judgement," she said and saw him nod lightly as she chanced to look up. "I have seen the evil that threatens the world and I have fought it many times over. I wish to fight for my kin, I would defend my my home if I am to die."

"Are you to die?"

"Whether it be by the hands of this evil or as my sentence, I will accept it. There are rumours that the time of the Elves is nearing its end, that Men will rise and that our people will leave these shores, I...I feel...the need to be with kin...my Lord," she finished sadly.

Thranduil regarded the young Elleth that he had all but raised from infancy and wondered at how they had grown so far apart. While it had been true that he hadn't wanted his son to pledge himself to Tauriel, his reasons for it were complex. He had sensed that the Elleth had not loved Legolas despite his son's clear affection, it had not been returned. Thranduil knew all too well the feeling of heartbreak and he'd hoped to spare his son the same feeling; clearly he'd failed and then in doing so he'd isolated his ward as he'd isolated his Kingdom. And now Tauriel was feeling the call of the sea and he was to lose her again.

He waved the guards away and stood, taking slow, regal steps down from his throne to stand before her. "You think I know nothing of this rising evil? I know it all too well, child," he told her.

"What is to be done?" she asked quietly.

"There is to be a gathering to discuss such matters, my representative has been sent in my stead," the King said.

"Will there be war?"

"Yes."

"And I? What is to become of me?"

"What you feel is the call of the sea. It is the will of the Valar to summon us to the shores of the Undying Lands."

"But I do not wish to..." she trailed off after beginning to raise her voice.

"You fear this feeling?"

"...I do."

"You are young. It is strange to find the call in one so young," he remarked.

"My King...do you..."

"You wish to fight for your kin, Tauriel?" the King sneered, "You wish to die in defence of our lands? You once had those honours and you discarded them. What assurances do I have that you will not do so again? I cannot afford failure in these troubled times."

"I...I can give you no assurances, my Lord, I have always done what I feel to be right."

"I protected you for 600 years and you betrayed my trust, you are fortunate to be breathing," he sneered.

Her anger rose and it took great effort to remain silent. She had grown much wiser since her more impetuous youth and she had spent much time in the company of people far more intelligent than she was. She had learned patience and to be humble. Tauriel was aware that she had done the King wrong despite the fact that she had done the right thing all those years ago. Thranduil had protected her when no one else had but there had been wrongs on both sides.

"I am truly sorry, my King," she lowered her head again. "I have thought long and hard about the events of the past and I will not lie to you; I did what I felt was right in my heart."

"You are young and impetuous," Thranduil said, turning his back and walking away.

Tauriel now considered it fortunate that she had been raised in these halls; she was familiar with the King's mannerisms and saw his walking away for want it was. It was not a dismissal, he meant for her to follow him, to lead her away from the open throne room, away from anyone who might overhear. But why, she didn't know.

"My Lord?' she questioned after getting to her feet and slowly trailing behind him.

"You think I don't understand, but I do, I too was young once," he said with some small amount of sarcasm.

Tauriel was lead to his more enclosed quarters and to the room in which she'd spent many hours discussing tactics with others, including the King. It was a large room but enclosed, much more private than the throne room. "I did not expect you to return," he admitted after pouring himself a goblet of wine.

"Neither did I," she sighed.

"Nor did I anticipate an apology."

"I did not anticipate giving one, my Lord," she replied, cordially, though confused. His manner had changed dramatically within a matter of minutes. In the Throne room he'd been every inch the proud, regal King, but now he reminded her more of the concerned, exasperated parent that she'd only ever seen emerge when Legolas was injured.

"If I send you away, what will you do?"

"I...do not know," she admitted, "I know not what my purpose is, I have nowhere to call home...except here."

"You accept that you have done your people and your King, wrong?"

"...I do," Tauriel said after a moment, "But my Lord, I..." she tried to explain but he silenced her by raising his pale hand.

"I will not hear it, you knew the consequences of your actions and they were not enough to give you pause. However...I can deny no Elf who desires to protect my lands, especially one in whom I have invested no considerable amount in training," he remarked.

"I..."

"Junior Officer...in training," he said, suddenly.

"...My Lord?" Tauriel furrowed her brow in confusion.

"That is your title. You are to report to Captain Althar for training exercises at first light. Be warned, child, your propensity for disobedience will not be tolerated this time. I can suffer no discontented ranks when we face an evil such as Sauron."

"...I understand, sire, it will not be an issue," she said, "On the Valar, I so swear."

"That, I shall believe when I see it," he replied, slightly raising an eyebrow.

Gandalf the White, as he was known now, was offering council to the King Under the Mountain, otherwise known as Thorin the third and he was reminded continually of the stubbornness of Dwarves.

It hadn't been easy for him to accept that he was to remain in Middle Earth as the 'White' of his order but something in the wind told him that the Wizards would soon have a new Istari to take the place of the 'Grey.' He had been the 'Grey' for so long it was difficult to accept, but he had been reborn as the 'White' and he would welcome his new kinsman when the time came.

In the meantime, Gandalf attempted to convince the Dwarves that an alliance with the Woodland Elves was not doomed to failure. Thorin III's council of Dwarves sat around a stone 'U' shaped table and in the centre, against the far wall sat the King himself, while the Wizard paced before him.

"Those woodland sprites are nothing but trouble!" Hadin, one of the King's advisors remarked.

"They fought and died beside you, master Dwarf," Gandalf said for what felt like the hundredth time, "You chose to aid them in defending the woods, why is an alliance so difficult for you to swallow? It would benefit you both now that the world is rid of Sauron's darkness." This of course, was met with both argument and agreement from the council of a Dwarves and the cacophony of noise grew to an almost unbearable level.

"Enough!" the King growled, promoting instant silence, "Gandalf is right, we can't afford to isolate our neighbours. We have lost men and we are too few in number in comparison."

"So we ally ourselves with Elves? My King, you cannot..." another of the councillors protested.

"It is time to lay old grievances aside for the sake of our people," Thorin declared, "Despite my own reluctance," he added.

The wizard heaved a sigh of relief while the majority of the councillors repressed their discontent at their King's new policy. Things were not going to be easy; for Elves or for Dwarves.

A.N. I've never actually written for Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit before, but I just fell in love with Thranduil...I'm sure I'm not the only one. The fact that the Elves leave for the Undying Lands was always sad so this is my attempt to rectify it just a little.