~Legolas makes a new attempt to reconcile with his father and notices differences in him. Maybe the parents' suggestion is not altogether bad, after all...~

~♕~

"If your heart is in your dream,
no request is too extreme."

Jiminy Cricket, Pinocchio

~♕~

40. Acceptance

Back at the colony, they met Gimli carrying a large bag. "I'm helping my papa move in with me for the rest of his stay," he explained, looking unusually cheerful. "I would have offered it sooner but I didn't think he would want to."

"I am glad you are on such good terms." Legolas tried to sound pleased and not jealous.

"Thank you. I never thought I'd see the day, but maybe it's my Cheery's doing. She's showing him the channel we're working on and he actually seems impressed. But it's hard to tell with him. Never was one to show his feelings, you know?"

Legolas was immediately ashamed of his brief jealousy. Gimli and his father had their difficulties as well; he ought to have remembered that.

"I know exactly," he replied. "No wonder my father and he seem to get along so well. They are just the same."

Gimli grinned. "They are. And also, they both have really handsome and strong sons."

"Indeed. Intelligent, too."

"And very humble," Lasriel added with a smirk.

Gimli left, still chuckling. Legolas felt his smile wane. He didn't want to go back in.

Lasriel took his hand. "It will be alright."

He squeezed it. "I hope so."

When they entered the kitchen, a lovely aroma met them. Nimrodel and Thranduil were cooking.

She turned her head when they entered and gave them a smile that was both nervous and relieved. "Glad you returned. We are making a very belated dinner... I hope you do not mind?"

Legolas didn't know what to answer. He didn't like that they used his kitchen, especially not the two of them together, but he also was ravenously hungry after the journey and everything that happened afterwards.

"Of course not," said Lasriel. She was eyeing the library longingly, probably wanting to check out the new books their parents had bought. Amroth and Mithrellas already sat there, each with an open book in their lap. Mithrellas was staring blankly at hers, her face downcast.

Legolas' chest tightened. He had missed her so much, for so long... and now she was here, in his house, alive. Yet, it felt like she was farther away than ever. That the short distance between them was a miles wide chasm, impossible to cross.

He sat stiffly at the kitchen table.

Lasriel apparently didn't notice any chasms for she was already by the bookcases, running a finger along the many spines. "Oh this is wonderful! My old engineering book! I wonder if there is a crane mechanism in it..."

Amroth put his book down and joined her a bit shyly. "I saw that too but I could not read it. What is the language?"

She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable to talk to him, but then she shrugged. "Dwarfish. I bought it in Lake-town to teach myself how to make a water pump and a stove."

"I have been trying to figure out how you made those. Can you show me?"

Lasriel complied, turning the pages and translating the runes, and after a while their conversation grew more natural. He talked about the inventions he made in his home on the island, and she about her ideas for more improvements here. She also described her recent idea to establish a trading route between Greenwood, Lothlórien and Ithilien. At that, Amroth became eager, and suggested they extend it southward to Pelargir and Tolfalas. "We already have ferries; that would be a great place to begin!"

"Your ferry is too wide. Remember how narrow the Anduin gets above the Falls."

"Aye, we must build new ones specifically for this. And another issue is your plan to lift them up the Rauros Falls, that sounds difficult. It would have to be a massive crane."

"I know. I'm not sure it is doable..." She flipped a few pages, forehead wrinkling in thought.

"Maybe if there was a smooth slide along the stairs, the ferries could be winched up that way?"

"Possibly... But without water, the hulls would be damaged by the friction."

"Who says it would be without water? Part of the river could be channeled down the slope."

"Oh! I think that might just work! We could build the slide with Mordor mortar." She described the new building material.

Legolas stopped listening; the discussion had become too technical for him to follow. Seeing them like that, heads together and bent over the book, he wondered how Lasriel could act so normal around her father so soon. She seemed to have forgiven and forgotten everything he did, just because he showed an interest in her ideas.

Even Mithrellas was taking part, chipping in a question or two, looking a lot less dejected now that her lover and his daughter were on speaking terms.

Sighing, Legolas looked away. He probably should have joined them but just couldn't.

His attention was drawn to his father instead. Thranduil had not turned around even once since Legolas and Lasriel came back, and by his stiff posture Legolas could tell how ill at ease he was. For the first time he also noticed he wore his arm in a sling.

He didn't feel like asking about it. He didn't feel like talking to any of his parents right now.

"Dinner is ready!" said Nimrodel in a forced cheerful voice.

They ate in strained silence, with only the sounds of the new cutlery clinking against the plates, and a few polite remarks from Amroth and Mithrellas about the tasty stew, and the excellent Dorwinion red Thranduil had brought from home, and what a lovely bread Nimrodel had baked. Lasriel seemed temporarily disinclined to talk about inventions with her father, and it was clear nobody around the table wanted to take up the interrupted matter of their parents' plan to switch partners.

The unpleasant meal seemed to have gone on forever when Mithrellas straightened up with a determined expression. "I know you must be eager to have the house for yourselves, but before we leave, I wanted to ask..."

"You don't have to leave," said Lasriel. "We have guest rooms."

She made a surprised smile. "That is generous of you."

"What did you want to ask?"

"Oh, I was just curious about the wedding... I remember how we used to plan it when you were only elflings. How did it go? What was it like?"

Legolas didn't know where to look. It had been almost as awkward as this dinner, and nervous, and embarrassing. Especially after the ceremony. And he had been drinking too much.

He stole a glance at Lasriel and saw a hint of a smile on her lips. She must be thinking the same thing.

Thankfully it seemed nobody expected them to reply. Instead Nimrodel got a dreamy look. "It was beautiful," she said. "They were simply adorable together. A perfect match!"

"I agree," said Thranduil, finally losing part of his tension as he began to describe everything in detail about the clothes, jewelry, decorations, menu and how the guests had been seated.

Amroth and Mithrellas listened attentively and asked many questions, and when all there was to say about the wedding was at last exhausted, they went on to ask about the betrothal, and then anything else they had missed from when Legolas and Lasriel grew up.

Thranduil and Nimrodel completely failed to catch their children's horrified looks as they recounted every single embarrassing incident, big or small.

Legolas and Lasriel very soon fled to the library.

"I can't believe Naneth told them about the forest fire!" she whispered, face beet red. "I was just experimenting with lenses and am sure I would have managed to put it out myself if she hadn't alerted the whole village first!"

Legolas fought not to smirk. That incident was new to him as well and would be a great thing to tease her about in the future.

"Don't you look so smug," she snapped. "Don't think I didn't hear that it was your fault Gollum escaped that time."

It was harder to hide mortification than amusement. "Well, not only mine..." he mumbled uncomfortably.

After a while, Amroth and Mithrellas joined them. It seemed at last Thranduil and Nimrodel were done with the awkward anecdotes.

They gathered around the engineering book, and resumed the trading route conversation. Lasriel now told them of another idea, the one about pigeon messaging.

Mithrellas immediately hooked on the possibility of sending letters with birds. "That would be such a good way to communicate. If you... if it wouldn't be too much trouble..."

She gave Legolas such a hopeful look he couldn't find it in him to disappoint her.

"Sure," he muttered. Before she could say anything else about it, he went back into the kitchen where Thranduil and Nimrodel were clearing the table and doing the dishes. They still talked of old times, but further in the past, about the war and what Ithilien had looked like before.

Interested against his will, Legolas ambled closer.

"Their gardens were so lovely. It was actually the entwives that made me interested in growing flowers in the first place."

Thranduil smiled warmly at her. "The garden you created outside the palace could be straight from that time. Are you sure there is no entish blood in your line?"

She chuckled. "You flatter me, but I am glad you like what I do."

The exchange surprised Legolas. His father's face looked different when he talked to Nimrodel; open and expressive in an unusual way.

"I cannot wait to see the baby trees here grow," he said now. "I hope one day Ithilien will be what it once was." He had noticed Legolas listening and gave him a very brief glance. "Your plantations are a good start."

"I suppose," he replied, thinking about his endless struggles to make the saplings thrive. He would probably have to be satisfied with a few scattered groves and copses; huge, miles wide forests were an utopia.

Thranduil must have sensed his dejection. "Want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively, looking genuinely concerned.

Suddenly Legolas was tired of being angry with him. Thranduil still hadn't apologized for all the lies, but he was his father, and for once Legolas just wanted to complain about his hardships to someone who would listen with sympathy.

"It was awful," he admitted, and then let the whole sad story pour out of him, drought, flooding, money issues, pests and all.

"That sounds horrible," said Thranduil. "I wish I could have done something."

"At least the worst is over now."

"My offer to support your project still stands," Amroth cut in from the other room. "This project must succeed; Ithilien deserves better than the wreck Sauron made of it."

"If I may, I would like to help too," said Thranduil. "It would be a pity if lack of money stood in the way to make your vision come true."

Legolas' first instinct was to sneer that it wasn't necessary and he could manage this himself, but for once he didn't. Something about the way they had said it made him realize their offers were not made from pity, or because they thought him incapable. They genuinely wanted Ithilien back the way it had been, and they trusted him to do it.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Thranduil looked down. "It is the least I could do, after... everything." He didn't elaborate what he meant by 'everything', but then Nimrodel nudged him and he added: "I mean, about my behavior and that. The lies..." He suddenly turned his head up, at last meeting Legolas' gaze. "I am sorry. I should have told you everything from the beginning but I was... not brave enough."

Legolas' throat grew uncomfortably narrow. He had never seen his father so unreserved, nor heard him admit to being afraid.

He didn't know what to reply so he just put a hand on Thranduil's shoulder and pressed it. Then he peered at the bandage. "What happened to your arm?"

Thranduil blushed, looking everywhere but at Legolas. "Uh, it is a long story..." It was clear he meant to leave it at that, but again Nimrodel nudged him.

His color heightened even further. "A cow. I was attacked by a cow. Broke my arm. Got healed. Better now."

Legolas could hardly believe what he heard. Had his father – Thranduil, the proud and elated Elvenking of Greenwood – been attacked by a cow of all animals, and was openly admitting it to his son, daughter-in-law, friends, and former wife? "Who are you and what have you done with my adar?" he asked incredulously, feeling his lips twitch.

"Very funny."

"A cow? An actual cow?"

"Can we talk about something else? Ithilien. Tell me about your plans."

~♕~

They gathered in the library, pulling together the comfortable chairs Thranduil and Nimrodel had bought, talking about Ithilien and the future. For the first time that night the ambience was relaxed.

Now it was Legolas' turn to tell about his ideas, and they all listened with unfeigned interest, giving him honest input about what they thought. Amroth was an experienced forester; it turned out it was he who first came up with the idea of living on talans – tree platforms – in Lothlórien. And of course Thranduil had experience from his own forest that he had tended for millennia.

After a while the parents returned to their old memories, but this time they described what it was like when they were young and more or less happy and had just moved to this continent after their old home in the west sank into the sea in the aftermath of the War of Wrath.

The world had felt new and full of possibilities; a chance to start over without the constant shadow of the first Dark Lord.

Legolas was looking at his father when he spoke, again reflecting on how different he was with Nimrodel at his side. She must be good for him. He made no illusions that Thranduil's uncharacteristic openness was anything other than her doing.

The same went for his mother and Amroth. Now that they were all sitting together amiably, she no longer appeared sad or worried, and whenever she said something to Amroth or looked at him, her warm smile seemed so natural. They had been living together for centuries and it was telling.

She was enthusiastically describing a large hunt of the past, and Legolas was struck with how little she knew about her. So she liked hunting? Was it from her he inherited his adventurous side?

This was a new side of his mother Legolas had never known, because she had clearly not been herself in the relationship with his father.

Seeing her with Amroth – and Thranduil with Nimrodel – now felt right in a strange way. Not unlawful, not disgusting. The new pairs made sense.

He couldn't help wondering what would have happened if Galadriel didn't send Amroth and Mithrellas away. If the elven culture had been like the human one, and allowed for divorces and remarriages... Would Legolas and Lasriel's childhoods have been happier?

Or what if the couples had remarried already before they had children? If they had refused to agree to the matches their parents made and chosen partners of their own?

Had Legolas and Lasriel even been born?

Perhaps Legolas had been Thranduil and Nimrodel's son instead.

He felt himself smiling. This was getting too philosophical.

It had grown very late, well past midnight, but nobody seemed to want to go to bed. It was like they were all desperate to catch up on all the centuries of lost conversation.

They began talking of the war, and Legolas described his journey with the Fellowship in more detail than he ever had. He had not seen the point in reliving those memories, many of which were both bleak and frightening, but now he did and it felt healing in a way.

His mother listened attentively, and throughout his recount she would give Amroth small proud glances, like she were saying 'there, that's my son, did you hear what he did?'. It was oddly encouraging and led him to elaborate even further.

His father looked proud too, but also sympathetic. When Legolas ended his tale, their gazes met, and he realized that with all the wars Thranduil had seen he must know exactly how horrifying it could be. He had also seen mutilated corpses and heard the sickening moans and cries of young men with their entrails torn out or limbs chopped off.

As different as they were, this at least they had in common. It gave them a new connection; a bond of deeper understanding and respect.

It had become quiet in the room after Legolas finished, but not uncomfortably so. They were all lost in thought.

Was this the last time they would be together like this? Soon Amroth and Mithrellas would return to their island, and Thranduil and Nimrodel would probably leave to try convince his subjects to accept her as the new queen.

Legolas didn't want them to go. He had more things to say, more things to ask. They still hadn't touched the more sensitive topics, such as Amroth and Mithrellas' new family. He wanted to ask about his sister. Who was she? Did she take after him or Lasriel more?

He noticed Lasriel was sitting practically in her father's lap, perhaps thinking the same. As if she was trying to prolong the opportunity to be close to him. Her face was a bit wistful. He recalled how happily she had gushed about her inventions and ideas, and how much alike she and her father must be.

It was not right to separate them.

In an instant, everything that had happened caught up with Legolas. His chest was filling with a chaotic swirl of emotions, and most of all he felt for her, for his wife. He had been so selfish in his anger with their parents. It was he who wanted to throw them out, not her.

And all the nice things in the room, too, the chairs and new books and carpet. She had scolded Thranduil and Nimrodel, but not because she didn't want them. She had done it for Legolas, because she knew he didn't like surprises.

But she deserved nice things.

She had been so unhappy here in the colony, hating how simply and impractically she had been forced to live. And she had missed her parents. That time in the tower in Osgiliath she had cried when thinking about how far away they lived, and that was what gave her the ideas about trading and ferries.

She deserved having her family close. Why should he let his pride – for that was all it was, pride and a damaged ego – stop her from being happy?

It was not right.

He rose from the chair. "I am sorry for my behavior today," he said.

All eyes turned to him, most of them highly surprised.

Well, he was a bit surprised too, to be honest.

"I tend to be a bit... hotheaded. Can't say where I got that from." His lips quirked at Nimrodel's knowing look. "First of all, I would like to thank you for the gifts. The furniture, the fine dinner just now – and your generous offer to support my forest plantations. If you want to do more, or buy more things we need, then I will not say no." Rich bastards, he added mentally.

Lasriel looked like she wanted to kiss him. It was mutual; he hoped she would hold that thought until later.

"And secondly, you are welcome to stay longer here. If you want to, I mean..."

"We do," said Mithrellas quickly.

"Of course," said Nimrodel. She was smiling at him in a motherly way. As if she too was proud of him, but for different reasons than Mithrellas.

"Lastly... I know I have no say in what you do or don't do," he continued, inadvertently using Glóin's words from earlier. "But for what it's worth, you have my blessing. Get married. Do it right this time. And... if I may, I want to be there." He swallowed thickly. "I couldn't miss one of your great parties, Ada. Wouldn't want to miss it for the world..."

He was unable to continue because now Thranduil was standing too, hugging him hard with one arm, and Legolas knew he was crying but hiding it under his hair. "You may," he rasped. "Thank you. I love you. You are such a good son and I don't deserve it. Thank you."

"I just want you to be happy," he said earnestly. "All of you."

Mithrellas' joined the hug, for once not minding being so near her former husband. "We will be. I know we will. When we have each other, nothing else matters. Our family. Together again."

"Together." Nimrodel put her arms as far as she reached around them, and Amroth and Lasriel made the circle complete.

"Together."

A/N:

Ahh... The end of this story is drawing near, as you probably figured. Thank you everyone who followed and supported it!