Mask of Innocence
With much sadness and joy I post this final installment of Mask of Innocence. Nearly a year in posting has gone by so fast, despite over 263 hours of work according to Microsoft Word it took to write my first 'true' piece. I extend my sincere thanks and gratitude to everyone who managed to drop a review in or stuck around for the entire thing. Legolass Q; I owe so much to you for the help and support you gave me at the beginning of this adventure. I don't really have any thoughts for a sequel, but I have numerous one or two chapter fic ideas hanging around (all with either Thranduil or Legolas) so I should be posting again soon. Well, here goes nothing; my last chapter.
Chapter Forty-one: Dawn of a New Story
It felt as though Legolas' eyes had barely drooped closed when he was jerked awake. Celeborn was staring down at him, and something urgent in his voice made Legolas sit up wide awake.
"Come with me," he ordered. Legolas scrambled up out of bed and hurried to get ready. He glanced first, however, to where his father slept. But he only saw perfectly-folded blankets and the bed made neatly. Rosta lay sadly on the pillow, one stuffed, fuzzy brown arm extended out as though reaching for its only friend that had left him.
Thranduil was gone.
"Celeborn…Celeborn, where is Ada?" Legolas cried, but the Lord of Lórien had vanished. He looked about wildly for Celeborn before catching a glimpse of the silver-haired Elven-lord disappearing down a faint path. Legolas immediately darted off in pursuit, but suddenly he turned back. An instant later he was scrambling to catch up with Celeborn once more, but this time Rosta was dangling from the little Elf's hand.
When he finally caught up to him, he tugged on Celeborn's sleeve anxiously, panting slightly. "Please, hîr-nín, where is my father? Where is Ada?"
"You shall find out soon." He continued on, face showing as much expression as stone, walking steadily.
Shocked at the rough response, Legolas faltered briefly, mouth agape. But when he realized that Celeborn was truly not going to tell him, he darted ahead to catch up.
They advanced through the forest for nearly half an hour, and at the speed Celeborn was walking Legolas began to tire. Panting, he seized the lord's sleeve once more and pulled him to a stop. "Please…" he whispered miserably, and Celeborn turned to see eyes wide and pleading stare up at him. "Why won't you tell me what is happening? My adar is sick and hurt." A sob broke past the child's lips. "Please, what is going on?"
At this Celeborn averted his gaze. He bowed his head sadly, and shook his head. "It is out of my hands, tithen-edhel. This is something you must do now." He looked up and pointed ahead into a clearing. "You have reached your destination. Now I must leave you."
Tentatively Legolas stepped forward and peered around Celeborn. The emptiness of the clearing surprised him, but so did its beauty. There were little white flowers growing amongst the tall grasses here that swayed in the breeze. On the far side of the meadow there was a break in the trees where the hill broke off and fell steeply to the ground where it was met by more trees, but here the night sky was visible. Stars twinkled softly in the paling night sky, but Ithil was still glowing bright and beautiful. It was not even dawn yet.
He spun around. "Hîr-nín, what am I to do? It is not even dawn-"
But Celeborn was already gone, vanishing down the path from whence he came. Sighing, Legolas turned around and let his gaze rove across the clearing once more, now wondering why he was here. And then he saw it. A figure was perched on a rock near the edge of the hill, still as a statue. The slight stir of the pale-gold hair had caught Legolas' eye, and realizing who it was that he looked upon he caught his breath.
"Ada," he breathed.
A hand that still bore scars gestured for him to draw closer and Legolas obeyed. He came and stood next to his father cautiously, watching for what he was supposed to do next. He felt oddly submissive, like a dog that was being called to his master's side. "Yes, Ada?" The little prince asked softly.
Thranduil at last turned, meeting the hurt sapphire eyes with gentleness. He forced himself not to flinch at the grief in his child's eyes, suffering he knew he had caused. "Sit with me, if you wish, tithen-pen," he offered tenderly, extending his hand. Legolas said nothing at first and only looked at the proffered hand, then took it quietly and climbed into his father's lap. He did not notice the flinch of pain on his adar's face as he settled in and brushed many of the still-tender wounds. Legolas said nothing still, and Thranduil wished he could simply shake the tenseness and tautness of the boy's muscles out of him. He could not see his little child's face for his son sat with his back against his father's chest, but he felt the little one's pain and anxiety nonetheless.
"You wonder why you are here."
Legolas nodded slightly. "Yes, I do," he murmured. He did not turn around. Still his body was as taut as a drawn bowstring, and Thranduil began to rub the little one's back comfortingly. Gradually Legolas began to relax, but Thranduil still sensed the child's churning feelings.
"Relax, Legolas. This is not one of your tutor's tests, just time for the two of us." Thranduil smiled faintly, attempting at humor, and Legolas did indeed relax slightly. The gentle hum of his father's voice against his back soothed him, and the child settled further into his father's arms. "That's it. I do not bite, little one." Thranduil kissed his son's hair. A serene silence ensued between the two of them, but unlike those observed in the recent past this one was comforting, if not soothing. The pair of them watched the stars twinkle above them and the trees sway in the soft wind.
"Your mother and I used to come here before you were born," Thranduil murmured softly, his eyes cloudy with memory. "We used to sit right here together and watch the evening sky fade to night, the stars twinkle in the heavens, and then the horizon glow with colors as the sun rose."
"Really?"
Thranduil chuckled at the surprise in the innocent voice. "Yes, Legolas. Your mother knew of this meadow long before I did. Her brother and her played here often as children, and when I courted her we met here many a time. It was a very special place for us. Do you know why?"
Legolas turned his head and gazed up at Thranduil with curiosity sparkling in his sapphire eyes. "No," he answered.
Thranduil smiled warmly. "You were born here."
Legolas straightened and turned around fully. "Really, Ada?" He responded, astounded, his eyes bright and wide.
"Aye. Right here, in this very meadow."
Legolas turned back around and sighed, settling against Thranduil sleepily. "I did not know that."
"It's true," the Elven-king stroked his son's arm absently. "She gave me the necklace then. Do you remember me telling you that when I gave it to you?"
"Yes, I do. Then I gave it back to you, because you needed it."
Thranduil smiled faintly, slight sadness marring his features. "I did need it, you were right." He fingered the charm lovingly. He paused, debating over his next words. "Legolas, I…"
"You are welcome, Ada," Legolas whispered. Thranduil shut his mouth in surprise, but laughed quietly.
"You have my utmost thanks, little one."
Legolas bowed his head and said nothing. Thranduil watched his son for a moment before raising his eyes to watch dawn draw close once more. The dark sky had lightened, and a soft robin-egg blue was slowly spilling over the horizon. The stars were beginning to dim, and Ithil had nearly disappeared from the night sky.
"But what good is it when you will leave me?"
The question that had been tormenting Legolas had finally escaped, and he immediately regretted it. He was not here to hurt his father. Thranduil stiffened slightly, but did not answer at first. "No good deed goes unnoticed, my dear child," Thranduil whispered at last. "Not even by me."
Silence again was their only companion, but it left a bitter taste.
The Woodland King tried desperately to switch subjects. "Rosta was a wonderful companion last night. Thank you for loaning his kindness, Legolas. We owe him much, do you not think?"
Legolas nodded silently against him, and over his shoulder Thranduil could see him fingering the teddy bear absently. "He says that you are welcome, and that he is glad to have been of help," the boy answered emptily. There was soft grief to be heard in his gentle voice, and his father stroked his arm comfortingly, but pulled back when a pang shot through his wrist. Wincing, he tried to flex his fingers and twist his wrist to relax the stiff limb, but the splint and bandages held it firmly and tightly in place. He reached around Legolas and tried to unfasten the tying on the splint with one hand; it was chafing his skin and putting extreme pressure on his arm. Celeborn needs work with splints, still. This is the third time he has tied it far too tight.
Suddenly Legolas pushed his fumbling hand aside, and took over the work. Thranduil watched as Legolas untied the splint swiftly and easily and pulled the special wrapping aside to let the skin meet air. Thranduil sighed as the cool air swept across his pale flesh, a feeling that felt incredibly refreshing to the broken skin on his arm. Legolas hopped off the rock, leaving Rosta behind in his father's lap, and darted into the forest. Thranduil, bewildered, waited patiently for his son to return knowing full well that he could not get up with a broken leg, let alone find the boy. But in a few minutes Legolas returned, clutching a handful of green herbs in his small hand. He jogged over to his father and set about making a paste with the herbs with a rock, shaking the dew from some of the grass to add moisture. Thranduil watched in fascination as the boy completed his paste and began to carefully rub it over his father's broken arm where his stitches were. After a moment he moved to his father's broken leg where he undid the splint there as well and eventually unfastened the tunic and lightly applied the healing paste on the lacerations. When he was finished, Thranduil looked at Legolas in surprise and gratefulness. The pain was now almost completely gone now.
"Legolas…where did you learn this?"
A flicker of pride crossed the child's face, but he remained as sweet and humble as was his nature. "Daernesta taught me long ago to use herb properties for pain relief," he merely said. "One day I had fallen and scraped my knee, and he taught me how to use an herb to mask the pain for a while. I doubled the herb concentration and used less water to make the effects last longer, like he told me I could do. You won't feel your pain for many hours."
Thranduil was speechless. By Ilúvatar, you are a brilliant child. "When we get home we shall have to get you an apprenticeship with Daernesta. Would you like that?"
Legolas shrugged. "As long as I am helping people, I would like that. I know what pain is like, and I would have no other suffer like I have."
His father's eyes softened. "Wise words, my son," he said quietly. "You have grown much over the year, and I cannot wait to see what brilliant ideas you share in the Council Room when you become a Crown Prince of Lasgalen."
"When I become Crown Prince I will insist on recesses, nothing less than an afternoon." Legolas wrinkled his nose, but his eyes sparkled mischievously. "The councilors are so boring, Ada. I do not understand how you can bear their endless droning!"
Thranduil laughed. "They do become very cumbersome and tiring, you are right. But soon you will sit beside me, and together we will have to bear the droning of the worker bees as they make their prolonged decisions."
Legolas groaned and crawled sleepily back into his father's lap. Thranduil shifted to make room for him, and cradled the little boy close. Legolas laid his head down upon his father's chest, and this time Thranduil did not wince when he pressed against a wound. But a sudden thought struck Legolas, and the little prince sat upright startlingly fast.
"Wait…You mentioned something about me sitting with you in the Council Room…but…you said…" Legolas' face creased in confusion and thought, but he suddenly brightened with new-found hope. "…You aren't leaving me, Ada, are you?"
Thranduil smiled warmly and ruffled his child's hair. "No, I am not leaving you. Not after all we've been through."
Legolas grinned widely, bouncing up and down brightly. "You are being honest? You decided not to leave me?"
"It is not a decision I can make, little one," Thranduil amended gently. "My heart was not dying after all. I had been in such a terrible state that I believed that I was going to die, and that I wanted to, but something held me back."
Legolas tipped his head. "What was it?"
Thranduil cupped Legolas' small face in his palm. "It was you, little one," he murmured lovingly. "It was you. I love you, Legolas, with all my heart."
The sapphire eyes gazing into his seemed to burst to life and sparkled warmly. "And I love you too, Ada," the little prince promised. He threw his arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "As always."
"Good," Thranduil managed out as he was hugged tightly. Legolas released him and sat back proudly. "I would not have done all I had if it hadn't been out of love for you."
Legolas smiled. "As with me," he responded softly. "I let Sauron hurt me because he promised that he would not harm you or Imrathon. If I didn't have you or Imrathon, I would have run away. But I wanted you to be safe." Legolas smiled as Thranduil's eyes softened and a look of pride and gratitude spread across his face. But then the happiness in Legolas' heart died away when he remembered what had truly happened, and his voice grew bitter. "But he lied to me, and after he gave me the scar he killed Imrathon…and he nearly killed you, and…" Legolas suddenly began to cry softly, tears running in silver streams down the little one's face. Thranduil hushed him and pressed his child's face to his chest, rocking him gently.
"Hush, that is all a thing of the past, nothing more than a memory," Thranduil consoled him. "Nothing more than a memory…"
Legolas nodded against him, his silky hair glowing in the pre-dawn light. "The scar has faded, so it is nothing more than a memory," Legolas sniffed sitting up and looking at his father with reddened eyes.
"I had forgotten all about it. Is it truly gone?"
Legolas nodded and unfastened his shirt to reveal beautiful, flawless flesh. He smiled. "Yes, it is gone, along with Sauron and all my nightmares," Legolas answered happily, relieved.
"He shall never bother us again, little one," Thranduil added in consent. "We are safe."
The prince of Lasgalen bobbed his head in agreement, smiling widely. Then he glanced about the meadow thoughtfully. "Ada, how long will it take you to get better?" He asked slowly.
"Less than a week. For you, three days. Why, ion-nín?"
Legolas faced his father once more, and his eyes glittered mischievously. "Oh, nothing."
Thranduil's gaze narrowed playfully. "What are you playing at, Legolas?" he warned sternly, but he smiled. He playfully tickled his son's side, and the boy squealed; it was a sound Thranduil had not heard in weeks and it lifted his heart tremendously.
"All right, I shall tell you." Legolas glanced about before leaning in close, and Thranduil leaned in also, realizing a secret was going to be revealed. "Rosta's begetting day is in four days. May I throw him a surprise party here? We can have a picnic, and invite Taidîr and Adlanniel and Mithrandir and-"
Thranduil placed a finger over his son's lips to stay the endless spout of questions, and he laughed merrily. "Of course! We have to celebrate for him! And we could celebrate for another occasion as well." He gestured for Legolas to lean close once more, and he dropped his voice low. "A little bird told me that Taidîr and Adlanniel have become betrothed."
Legolas sat up in surprise, eyes wide. "Really?" he exclaimed. He bounced around excitedly. "Do you think I can be in the wedding? Can Rosta come? Are you going to-?"
Thranduil threw his hands in the air, laughing. "By Eru, so many questions! They must have fed you something sweet before you left this morning!"
The little prince giggled. "But can we, Ada? May we have a feast or picnic or party or something soon!"
Thranduil smiled warmly. "If it makes you happy, my little Legolas, then I would throw you a thousand parties," he promised softly, and he meant it with all his heart. His glance strayed to the horizon, and his eyes widened as the rainbow of pinks and yellows and golds rippled across the morning sky. He turned his son around and pointed, and the small gasp that was uttered from his son's lips was enough to warm his heart for a year. The two sat together, watching as the brilliant sun peered over the horizon and began its ascent into the pastel-colored sky, and they were at last able to throw all their pain and suffering behind them as easily as the cloak of night Ithil had cast over the land was dashed away.
Thranduil watched in love and awe and his child's eyes grew wide and bright as he watched the sunrise, the colors and light reflected off his beautiful crystal orbs. The little one clung to him like a plant to water, and Thranduil felt within him his child's faer rejoicing. And he felt his own harmony lift in song, for in the first time in nearly a year he was truly happy and content. His son was laughing and bright, he was healing, Sauron had been defeated, a wedding (and a birthday) were in the near future, and hope had been kindled in the hearts of his people once more. Thranduil had saved his child and his realm, and he would have done it all over again if he was given the choice. His boy, his precious Greenleaf, was his once more. He had nearly paid the ultimate price for this little Elven child, but it had meant the world to both of them.
Thranduil knew that not all stories were so perfect like the childish ones he and Vanya had whispered to their child on warm summer nights. The story of his own life had been pierced and broken with pain, anguish, and death. But although the story of his life with his precious son had begun on terrible circumstances with the death of a beloved mother and wife, Thranduil knew with all his heart that this story had been blessed with the return of the beautiful innocence of the child that had marked the beginning of a better life for them all. This story was one of the rare ones that truly possessed a happy ending that would last for years to come.
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"That's what it takes to be a hero,
a little gem of innocence inside you that makes you want to believe that there still exists a right and wrong,
That decency will somehow triumph in the end."
-Lise Hand
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One last note; for those who were curious, this story was slightly based on fact. The dates at the beginning aren't random...
Appendix B:
(The Third Age)
"2060: The power of Dol Guldur grows. The Wise fear it may be Sauron taking shape again.
2063: Gandalf goes to Dol Guldur. Sauron retreats and hides in the East. The Watchful Peace begins. The Nazgûl remain quiet in Minas Morgul."
The Watchful Peace has now just begun for Thranduil and his realm, and it will last for another 397 years until Sauron returns to Dol Guldur with even more power. Plenty of time to at least get Legolas to warrior status, eh? (Fun fact: three years after the Watchful Peace ends, Sméagol murders Déagol) Anyways, I'll let you all get back to your lives as normal, LOTR-loving citizens (as normal as we can be, it's difficult for me to accomplish that). Thanks for all the great memories, and have a wonderful summer.
ArcherGal2932