~ Thranduil tries to get the truth out of his son and fails. He has a much needed talk with his best friend and another with his son. ~

62. Home to Greenwood

Traveling by boat was comfortable and Thranduil liked it a lot better than riding, though it made his shoulders ache from all the paddling. It was Galion's turn to manage the paddle now so he lazily let his hand slip into the river on the side, feeling the cool water caress his fingers. Soon they would reach their next destination, the tree city Caras Galadhon in Lothlórien. They had left the Anduin a couple of hours ago and were now traveling up the smaller tributary Celebrant.

Nearby, Legolas steered his boat clear of a branch and Thranduil felt his brow furrow. That stubborn elf! No amount of coaxing had loosened his son's tongue about his secret and the closer to home they got, the more disturbing it became. How could Thranduil plan his counteractions if he didn't know what Legolas had in mind?

For several weeks now, Thranduil had tried to figure it out, and he had some guesses but was yet to find out which one was correct. That it was something his son thought he would oppose was clear, both from his silence on the matter and from the faint nervousness he radiated whenever the subject was brought up.

Thranduil had already ruled out the more obvious ideas, such as their initial elopement plan – it made no sense in splitting up and going separate ways from Minas Tirith if they would run away together. Neither could it be the official betrothal and wedding Morwen wanted that would enable her to poison his halls and their marriage with her presence.

That left the more unconventional schemes. They could have planned to marry officially like the mother wanted, but then move to live with her in Rohan. When there, Legolas could protect Wynne from the woman's violence, and they could also try to counteract her meddling in politics. Maybe expose some of her secrets, gradually weakening her. And when she died, which should happen fairly soon for a middle aged human woman, they would return to Legolas' home, bringing all their inherited wealth with them. It was a dangerous plan, if this was it; the mother was sly and could easily outsmart such naive, young ones as them. Thranduil didn't want his son to live with her – he didn't even want Wynne to live with her. And though riches were always welcome – he did live in style after all, which wasn't cheap – he still hoped that was not what they had in mind.

Another idea could be for Legolas to renounce his birthright and move somewhere remote to live a secluded life as a commoner. The mother might lose interest in them if they were not royalty. That one was a horrible plan and he fervently hoped it was not it.

The final idea he had thought of was to let the mother come with Wynne to the palace and when she got there somehow frame her into committing a crime. Then Thranduil would imprison her in his dungeons, which meant she could do no harm in his realm while at the same time unable to rally the Rohirrim lords against him. That was actually a rather good plan and he hoped it was the one. He had even tried to talk to Legolas about it but he had just walked away, giving him the cold shoulder. The nerve of it!

All in all, the last part of their journey had been trying and all Thranduil wanted now was to be home in the stillness of his palace, to sleep in his own bed and have access to his wardrobe, his bathroom and his wine cellar.

Soon, he told himself. Just one more stop on the way – and a very pleasant location to visit, at that; Lothlórien was a stunningly beautiful forest. And it would be good to see his friend again.

Celeborn came to meet them personally when they pulled their vessels ashore. He was easy to discern among the accompanying elves, standing half a head taller than anyone else. He even beat Thranduil by a few inches, of which he was slightly jealous but never would admit to anyone.

The Lord of Lothlórien greeted them formally and welcomed them to his city. There they were served a delicious dinner – along with real wine, thank the Valar! – during which Thranduil recounted most of what had happened on their quest. He also told them about the Emyn Muil orcs and the peace treaty.

The Lórien elves took this news better than he had expected; after what orcs had done to Celeborn's daughter in the past he would have believed him unwilling to forgive that race. But perhaps he too realized it was time to put centuries old grudges aside.

After their meal, Celeborn beckoned to him. "Come, my friend and walk with me, for I much desire to speak with you." He was even worse than Thranduil when it came to eloquent speaking. Only in public, though, in private he took on a much more informal approach.

"You look well, Tharan!" he said when they were alone, putting his arm around Thranduil's shoulder to give him a half-hug. "I told you traveling would do you good."

"Thank you. How did my kingdom fare in my absence?"

"Splendidly, but let us not talk of work now. It is such a fine evening."

They had come to Galadriel's garden and sat on one of the stone benches. Thranduil regarded the smooth, silvery trunks of the surrounding mallorn trees, admiring their exquisite beauty and elegance. The air was calm, with only a faint breeze to rustle the leaves above. A small, black bat fluttered between the trees, restlessly darting this way and that in its hunt for moths.

He removed his circlet. The thing chafed even worse than his crown back home. Something he would also never admit.

"I was hoping your son would have benefited from the journey as well but I noticed you two still are not speaking much." There was concern in Cel's voice.

"Oh, he did benefit from it, and we are closer now than we have ever been. But lately we had a... disagreement." He twirled the circlet between his fingers.

"Elaborate."

Thranduil didn't reply immediately. Should he tell his friend everything? Celeborn was very wise; his advice could be helpful, but lately he had become somewhat meddlesome. Not with a hidden agenda like Wynne's horrible mother, he did it out of affection, but nevertheless.

He chose to answer with a question of his own, one that had nagged on his mind for a while. "Why did you insist I went on this mission? Anyone could have cleared those lands of orcs. Why me?"

"Because you needed it." He looked grave. "Ever since you lost your wife you have been troubled. Shutting yourself up in your dwelling, brooding over the past. It took me ever so long to coax you even to come here."

Thranduil found it hard to meet his gaze. Instead he regarded the empty stone basin Galadriel had used as a mirror. "Are you angry with her? For leaving you."

"Aye."

His eyebrows rose. He hadn't expected Celeborn to admit it so readily.

"You are not the only ellon who did not always get along with their spouse." He smiled weakly. "Galadriel and I lived apart for long periods as you know, but she always returned to me eventually. At least before she sailed to Aman with the other ring-bearers."

"Maybe she thought she had to."

"She did. And I disagreed."

"Are you going to follow her?" Thranduil recalled the seagull he had seen on the road to Minas Tirith and thought about the sea. He had not seen it for many millennia but it was a sight one didn't easily forget.

"Aye, I could never fight with her for long. But I have not quite finished my work in Arda."

"You have an Elvenking you think needs saving." He felt himself smile.

"Indeed. And now, would you tell me what is on your mind? Without changing the topic again, if you will."

He laughed. "Was it that obvious?"

Celeborn nodded solemnly.

"I hardly know where to begin." He sighed. "The short story is that my son fell in love with a mortal." He shook his head. "With his looks he could have anyone but instead he chooses a homely Rohirrim girl who dresses like a man." He smiled despite himself, forming a mental image of her.

"You like her."

"Maybe. But that is beside the point. She has a horrible naneth." He described the woman at length.

"Intrigant, power-hungry, proud and violent... This Morwen sounds a lot like your adar."

He nodded, a chill trickling down his spine. "She is Oropher reborn."

"But he must be in Aman, or perhaps lingering in the Halls of Mandos? Surely he would never agree to be reborn as a human."

"Of course not, I did not mean it literally. But she is so much like him, and frankly it scares me that... I mean, for my son to have a naneth-in-law like that? To have her visit my realm?"

He proceeded to tell his friend of the plan his son apparently had thought up but refused to share and how he feared it would lead to disaster. And that led him on to how Legolas had refused to listen to his council ever since he met the girl and even entered a secret relationship with her – strictly against his adar's wish. How he kept going behind his back. "I feel so powerless," he finished. "He is quite out of hand."

"Listen to yourself. You speak of Legolas as if he were an elfling," said Celeborn sternly. "You have no power over him because he is an adult. You are not supposed to order him around."

Thranduil frowned, a surge of annoyance rushing through him. Cel had no right to tell him how to be a parent.

He was on the verge of saying something harsh but managed to resist and control his temper. "He is still my subject," he said, keeping his voice calm. "I am his king."

"That kind of reasoning is what drove him away in the first place – and that is also why I insisted he follow you on the quest. To give you an opportunity to be just his Ada, perhaps for the first time."

The nerve... His jaw hurt from clenching it.

Cel again put his arm around his shoulders, ignoring the stiffness. "It is getting late. Think of what I said, and we can talk more about it in the morrow. Good night, Tharan."

He didn't return the greeting.

When Celeborn had gone, Thranduil paced up and down the garden, drawing deep breaths and telling himself it wouldn't do to assault the Lord of Lórien in his own home.

As his blood slowly cooled, he began to ponder what his friend had said. Did he really think of Legolas as an elfling?

He did, in a way, he had to admit. Had he subconsciously been trying to prevent his son from growing up?

Maybe. Yes. He had confined Legolas, making decisions for him, holding him back just like when he was an elfling and ran away all the time, scaring his adar to no end.

Scared. He was afraid to lose his son like he had lost so many others; his childhood friends, his parents, his wife. It hurt, it tore his heart apart, each time worse than before, each time leaving him lonelier and emptier. That was why, that had always been why.

He sank back onto the bench, wiping his eyes. All his reasoning against Legolas' choice of wife had been excuses; he had tried to convince both himself and his son it could be stopped. Implicating that he didn't know his heart. Of course he did! He clearly had loved the girl almost from the beginning.

Excuses...

And the Morwen issue, too. Aye, she was an appalling harridan, but he was a king, for the Valar's sake, he could handle her if he really put his mind to it.

Afraid... Afraid to let go. He rested his face in his hands, rubbing his pounding temples.

His only son would leave him, it all came back to that. He would lose Legolas like he had feared ever since he joined the Fellowship. When he finally returned Thranduil had reacted like he always did, with anger. His stupid anger. He had not learned anything from his many past mistakes.

Cel was right, as usual. Even Wynne had told him he drove his son away. It had apparently been obvious to everyone but himself.

He had to let go. As terrifying as that was, he had to let go.

"Ada? Are you alright?"

Thranduil nearly jumped. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he had not heard his son coming. He turned away, trying to hide his tears.

"What is wrong?" He sounded concerned and Thranduil felt a cautious hand touch his back.

"I have been thinking," he mumbled. Then he decided to quit hiding and turned toward his son, knowing he probably looked a terrible mess with red eyes and a runny nose. "I have been so stupid."

His forehead furrowed. "Will you tell me what happened? Was it something Lord Celeborn said?"

"He only said the truths I needed to hear." He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his eyes with it. "Legolas, I am sorry for not trusting your judgment. Whatever your plan regarding Wynne is, I approve of it."

His eyes widened slightly, and then narrowed again. "If this is some trick to make me reveal the plan, I–"

"Do not be ridiculous," he snapped. "You think I could pretend this?" He indicated his disheveled appearance. Suddenly he found himself laughing despite everything.

"Actually, no." Legolas grinned foolishly.

"If you want to tell me about your plan, I would not mind hearing it though."

"Ada..."

"Sorry. Just thought I should ask." He pulled his son into an embrace. "I love you, Legolas. I hate surprises and you are cruel but I still love you."

"I love you too. It is not a bad plan. It will work out, trust me."

"I trust you."

oOo

Even the comforting weight of the full glass of fine Dorwinion he held couldn't stop Thranduil from cringing on his throne. What on Arda was Legolas doing? He leaned his face into his free hand, trying not to wince a second and a third time.

I trust you. His words came back to mock him. Sauron's eye!

"...and therefore I hereby resign my claim to the throne of the Woodland Realm. I shall be leaving for my new position in Ithilien shortly, but have courage, wood-elves! My adar, despite his immense age, is still in his prime and has no need for an heir. Together with Lord Celeborn he shall continue the work to restore Greenwood to its former glory."

oOo

"Shall I get someone to clean up here?" Legolas cautiously stepped over the shards of broken glass on Thranduil's floor. He looked a bit like he was approaching a dragon.

"Don't bother." He felt numb. "Legolas, why?"

"It is what I want to do. Planting trees, living close to nature. Politics is not for me, it never was." He wore the stubborn look he had honed to perfection on the journey from Minas Tirith.

Let him go.

"Why such a hurry? You could be betrothed a year first, and–"

"I do not want to wait a year. We do not have much time, you know."

His chest constricted painfully. Legolas would die. Or sail. So soon... too soon. But he would be happy before he did, and he was right, he didn't belong in an underground palace.

Sighing heavily, he slumped down into his soft armchair, pouring himself a new glass of wine. "It is not right. The Wood of Green Leaves would be without my green leaf."

"We will visit you often and you can visit us too. It will not be so bad," he reasoned. "Besides, you said you approved." He had the nerve to sound accusing.

"I had temporarily lost my mind."

"I cannot bear to lose you, Ada. Do not make me choose between the two persons I love most."

Thranduil put down his glass to give his son a long, hard hug. He wished he would never have to release him from it. "You do not have to choose. Of course not. I will never abandon you. Never. I am your adar and will always be, nothing can change that."

Legolas pulled back to meet his gaze with tearful eyes. Then he kissed him on each cheek. "Thank you," he said simply.

Not long after, he was gone.

"Right," Thranduil told his glass. "I guess it's just you and I, now." He swirled its ruby content with shaking fingers before downing it in one gulp. "Cheers, then."

A/N:

Never drink alone, or when you're sad, kids. Thranduil is not setting a good example... ;)

Now, let's see how Wynne fares in Rohan...