This chapter is dedicated to MavisMcQueen whose inspirational characterisations have truly challenged and given me bravery to better explore the magic of the wild wood

I apologise there may be some errors as I have not got to my Mac to edit and it's already 1AM. I will hopefully do fix ups and my special thanks tomorrow. In the meantime thank you so so much for all the amazing votes and comments! You guys are the main source of my happiness!

Song: From Western Woods to Beaversdam - The Chronicles of Narnia OST

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There is always a look that someone gives - often just a slight movement - that gives them away. The tightening of a jaw, the purse of lips, the sideways glance, or the dilation of pupils. These are the things I've become quick in noting with others, I don't know why? I assume it is because you learn very early on, in these positions of power, that lying becomes a way of life. 

Generally, little lies or cover-ups are insignificant. If I'm bored or feeling particularly irked over an insult to my intelligence, I'll pursue the matter. Mostly I just carry on my way, suffice to know that I see through such petty things. However, once in awhile something comes to light, and by just the look of another your insides start to crawl and bile rises in your throat. It is safe to say in those moments you'd rather the lie they told be the truth, than see beyond it, because fear is an awful weakness...

*****

3416 SA - Halls of the King, Greenwood

"What do you mean, she's not there? Where else would she be?"

"I am sorry my lord, I-I-I...um...was passing...and I-I...er...heard him crying. S-she wasn't there."

Every soul in the room was silent, excluding the baby in Oliel's arms, whom she rocked much to aggressively to be calming. His cries were pitiful at this point...weak and lonely...it was an all to honest picture of our lives.

My eyes danced across the lines of strange and familiar faces. The faces of my own folk held an aura of betrayal, sympathy, and maybe even slight embarrassment for me...though they all tried to conceal it. The Lindon traders on the other hand...well...stoic faces coupled with wide eyes and tightening jaws spoke to me of a hidden agenda.

There were eight seats in total for our guests, but only six were filled. Apologies had been offered for their absences; they were weary from the journey and one was sporting an injury after a toss from his horse. I knew those excuses felt like lies, but I had not pushed the issue, I had no reason too...until now.

"Let us adjourn for the evening," Raffyn offered quietly, standing to his feet and rifling through trade papers. "Lord Galour, would you be so kind as to-"

"Where are your absent associates?" I snapped a little too harshly, leaning across the table intimidatingly; "one of them is my wife's cousin...where are they?"

There was no response for a few seconds, only frantic looks. The only thing prompting them was the adamant wail of my son. The sound made them fluster, and it made me flinch more visibly than I intended.

"For the love of Eru...Oliel take him outside and pacify him!" I growled and she leapt clean out of her skin before rushing out the door, her face flushed and tears pricking her eyes.

"I will not ask you all again, where are your missing members and was the Princess with them?"

"No my lord," one eventually piped up, but he would not meet my gaze. "No we do not believe the lady Bregeth to be wi-"

"I am no fool!" I bit back, my fist colliding with the desk. "Bregeth is vulnerable and homesick at the best of times, now, let's try this again...where are your associates?"

"They spoke of sampling the wine," another bravely and cryptically responded. He met my glare with an equally disapproving look. I could tell he knew more than he intended to share, and that he was unhappy with their absence. At last, a half decent elf among a company of snakes.

"Raffyn?" I barely grumbled his name, as I stared threateningly into each of the eyes of our guests.

"I will send out a search party this instant," he replied placing a hand to my shoulder, "do not fear your highness, we will find her."

"Search the main cellars...if they wished to sample our wine they probably should have started there," I answered coldly before circling my hand above my head dismissively, "OUT...all of you out!"

The room emptied instantly, elves tripping over themselves to get out the door without inadvertently gaining my attention. I waited for a moment, working through the various doubts and scenarios that swirled within my vivid imagination regarding Bregeth. I feared for her wellbeing, and at least more than once I had visited healers regarding her withdrawal from court, from her duties, from our son. None of it felt right, and I reckoned she had never spent this long away from her home before. Separating her from her family and people must have been hard, I cannot imagine I would have coped well with such restrictions. Yet, my instincts flared - the coldness, her indifference, her voicing her thoughts that she had completed her duty towards me. Like she was disregarding me, like I was no longer an issue she needed to deal with. Such thoughts were cutting.

A baby's wail cut through the stillness of the room again. The sound was instinctually upsetting, so I stormed out of the suffocating room to follow the sound. In my fuming state I found Oliel trying vainly to pacify my son, and in my anger I ripped him from her arms.

"Are you entirely incompetent," I hissed as I eased his little body against my chest, resting his flailing head against my chin. "He is cold...honestly your stupidity is astounding! Did you not think of wrapping him up?"

"His sheets were wet," she squeaked, tears springing fourth again as her cheeks flushed. "I had to change them, I have no experience with elflings I just knew he needed attention from a parent - I sent for Nana-"

"Good Valar Oliel! Why do you not just rouse the whole Kingdom next time his mother is missing!" I had not intended to rant, or to be so unnecessarily rude to her. She was my friend, and she was a high ranking servant. She deserved much better than my wrath, especially when the anger was only a projection of my own fear...my own incompetencies.

Oliel had fled from my temper, promising to send Gilron as soon as she arrived and apologising for the upset. Still to this day I feel so horrid about my attitude. If it was not for her discovery that night Eru knows how long I would have remained in the dark, coddled by lies.

I knew - I just knew the truth, when Raffyn timidly entered our home again, wearing a look that mingled outrage and sympathy. Adar had pounced on him immediately, thrusting him into the shadows to speak in hushed tones. I stayed put, by the heat of the fire, cautiously watching my slumbering elfling.

Gilron gently rocked him in his cradle, crooning something familiar as she brushed his golden curls from his rosy cheeks. He was warm and dry now, content and well fed. I could not leave him, not in his hysteria. I'd never felt panic like it when he wouldn't settle. No-one teaches you these things, no one ever tells you how utterly terrifying a screaming infant can be...and I knew fear, just not this fear. This was a powerless fear, a deep set panic that you have done something horrifically wrong. Had I driven Bregeth to flea in my anger or indifference towards her pain? Had I not given her all the support she needed in my absences? Maybe I expected to much of her to raise Legolas alone, maybe I should have insisted upon more help? I just thought we were managing. Neither of us proclaimed to be family inclined, I was expecting teething problems, stress and general difficulties, but I never ever expected her to run.

"He will be alright," Gilron tells me in her motherly tone, that soft decibel that reminds me of Naneth and her assured strength. "No harm done that a little love and attention cannot fix."

"I cannot do this alone," I suddenly hear myself ramble, like the thought of having to be entirely responsible for Legolas was just too overwhelming; "If Bregeth can't or won't care for him, Gilron, I do not have the time or the skill."

"Well," she answers me as she raises off the floor, levelling me with a serious glare; "you will just have to learn."

"He needs a mother, an elleth at least - someone with a softer touch," I defend myself, trying to rationalise my escape; "What can I do? I can't even settle him when he cries...no, he needs a nursemaid. I will arrange something."

"Thranduil Oropherion!" Gilron barks in that manner that used to make me go rigid and pale - for a severe scolding or slap across the ear nearly always followed such a firm voice. It is slightly amusing that as an adult I still flinched in expectation.

"This is not something you arrange, an elfling is not an imposition on your life! You do not alter their lives to suit yours. He is your responsibility, and if his mother is incapable of caring for him - then you do it!"

I almost pouted liked a petulant child, but she was right, Gilron was always right...even Nana knew that. I had wanted to argue that I was not just an average elf, I wanted to whine that most new father's do not have a kingdom to maintain and an army to run. I did not have time for incompetence or laziness on Bregeth's part, the child needed dealt with. But, there was an annoying ache in my chest, a twinge in the back of mind, and a rather heavy feeling in my gut...that child was my child...when did I become so irresponsible?

There were no other words between Gilron and I, at least none that needed to be spoken aloud. I suppose, when I reflect back, this was when I acknowledged what I was to Legolas. He was blissfully unaware of the family he had been born into, and neither was he wholly concerned about what that meant for him or his parents. To him - Bregeth and I - we were his security. I guess I was in dire need of being reminded of that, and yes it was overwhelming, and for a fleeting moment I had hoped that was the only reason Bregeth had ran...but such notions are for fools.

By the time Adar was through questioning Raffyn, I knew things were suspicious. When the advisor came to stand before me - Ada a step behind - his eyes were downcast, his mouth twisted into a painful grimace, and when he eventually looked at me...well, I had taken a blow to the chest with a sledgehammer once...that was less painful than the anger and pity in his eyes.

I listened, expressionless, as he carefully picked out the words that would condemn Bregeth. How she had been caught in a compromising position with this Lindon merchant - something just beyond flirtation apparently. For the first several moments I worked out how I was to avoiding spilling the contents of my stomach on the floor in front of everyone. The bile sat rather uncomfortably in my throat, and I know I had flushed the most undignified of colours. They all probably assumed it was rage at first, but it was not. The first thought was truly shame, and utter failure. So much shame that I wanted to calliopes under the weight of it.

It was an entirely self absorbed moment. I was prince, a famed warrior, idolised, and admired...and now I was betrayed by my wife...I could not hold the attentions of an elleth. It was degrading, disgusting, laughable really. If the news had been against some other noble Lord I probably would have a great chuckle at their expense, tease them about their incompetence, and parade my line of adoring ellith before them carelessly. But here I was, one of the unfortunate ellyn, stripped of all dignity by a careless act...my inflated ego really could not process the injustice.

That was when the rage set in.

It was a fleeting rage, tempered by the fact that Adar was quite firm in the command that I would not stoop so low as to violently disfigure the ellon that had caused more embarrassment than this farce of a union.  I was also reminded, by the startled whimper of my son, that I had responsibilities. Responsibilities that Bregeth was content ignoring, and that anger brought with it a terrible regret but an even clearer mind. Suddenly my bruised ego fell secondary to the flaming hatred I felt for this elleth. It was low and vile for her actions to affect me, but not his. That was our son, and by the Valar she would never set eyes on him again for this.

Before anyone else could order me how to react, I took my son and I hid. I hid because I could not bear the thought of seeing the pity in Gilron's eyes, or the questionable glances shared between servants, because how was I supposed to raise a child alone? It was not as if I was blessed with a warm and soft persona, no, I'd likely fail but I was certain I would put fourth a better attempt than his indifferent mother!

*****

Present Day: Halls of the King

"What do you mean? How in all of Arda do you lose an elfling in less than an hour?"

"He was here...I left him here for a moment...I turned my back and he was gone!"

"Good Eru Ollie! You never turn your back on him!"

"I am not his parent!"

Well, that was the end of my argument. After all it was not Oliel's position to care for Legolas whilst his Grandfather and I went at each other's throats! No, she was right, I was the child's parent...and doing a botched job of it so far...as usual!

After I had calmed down enough from my spiteful exit from Adar, I went to retrieve Legolas. I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to fix the rift between us but I was determined to try. However when I rounded the corner and straight into a flustered Oliel, I knew something was wrong. I saw the signs, and when she eventually stuttered out that Legolas had vanished, I felt like I had been cracked across the chest with that sledgehammer all over again.

It seems to be my knee jerk reaction to have the final say with most things - an argumentative trait I probably picked up from my mother - but with Oliel's last statement, what just argument did I have? The boy was confused, upset, and alone,  whilst I seemed intent on causing a holy war with everyone and everything! The realisation of his absence was the sharp clout to the back of the head that I needed. Suddenly everything seemed superfluous, and so I did what every fearful parent does...I ran in a completely directionless path in a blind panic.

I took the servants stairwell at three steps at a time, until I reached the last staircase, at which point I vaulted it and came nose to nose with Raffyn and a burly looking guard. I skittered back a few steps and glared fiercely, I wasn't in the mood for stupidity right now.

"You are not permitted to see the servant elleth my lord, it is the King's orders," Raffyn coolly reminds, his stern features remaining as stoic as ever.

"Yes! But I am not here for Clara, I am here for Legolas," I snap impatiently, because I have come to the only logical conclusion; Legolas has took the initiative and went looking for his beloved friend without assistance. I have to hand it to the boy, he is more persistent than I ever was.

"Legolas?" Raffyn queries in confusion, his brow furrowing as his head tilts and his jaw tightens. "I have not seen the child, and he is not with the elleth, she is detained."

I curse loudly, making both Raffyn and the guard flinch, because I think my voice split through a shrill octave.

I begin to pace, in much too tight circles, my heart rate accelerating as I vainly try to not get myself into a fluster. Legolas is somewhere, he cannot have gotten that far, and yet I know those faces. The faces of elves who would attempt to console me with a useless lie, because my instinct was to panic as I tried to ward off the crashing guilt again. Why was I always failing at this? My inadequacy was glaringly obvious!

"Maybe he is in the garden?" Raffyn suggests weakly, his eyes shifting uneasily and his voice teetering off at the end. "I shall go look."

"Wait!"

The startled voice of the guard clean makes me leap in surprise, even Raffyn jumps and turns to glower unhappily.

"Wait? For what?" Raffyn asks in irritation and I begin to twitch at this ellon's lack of speedy reply. I am practically willing him to answer.

"Two messengers arrived less than an hour ago to leave word for his majesty, that they would be leaving soon with the offending elleth," he tells me much too slowly and I sort of half shake my head at him in a bemused fashion...what has Ithril got to do with...oh valar!

"He thinks they are leaving with Clara," I hiss and leap for the stairs again. "Did you see them leave? Did you see if my son followed them?"

"No my lord," he admits weakly, paling a little when I shoot him an exasperated look. "B-but they left for the stables, I know the company intend to leave from there. It's a quiet exit for a disgraced noble lady, apparently she is entitled to that privilege."

"I could not care less how that disgraced inbred leaves this Kingdom," I call back towards the two flustered looking elves, as I climb the stairs faster than I descended them. "My son is what matters, thank you for your vigilance."

Before much else can be said or done, I dart up the sets of stairs, along the hallways, and out the doors at break neck speed - which considering my injuries - is rather impressive.

The City is a busy hive of organised chaos as usual. There are faces everywhere; servants, traders, nobles, children, everyone but who I need to find. The passageways that lead to the stable courtyards are filled with ellyn, all caught up in their day's tasks, bantering with fellow warriors and young squires, and my explosive arrival is not met with enthusiasm.

If I'm not shoving the useless idiots sideways, when they don't move quick enough, I'm hollering in their ears, demanding they tell me where my boy is! After several hassled minutes of frustration, I suddenly come to the conclusion that no-one has saw Legolas because; firstly, he is about the height of a hare, and secondly, he is just as fast as one! These bumbling lugs would not have wits sharp enough to catch him...ugh, he is just like his bloody mother!

"Thranduil! What are you doing here?"

At last...somebody helpful!

"Aradan! Aradan have you seen Legolas?" I pant breathlessly, as I slide to halt at his feet, throwing out my arms to brace myself against his shoulders; "I think he overheard the guards discussing Ithril's exit...I think he thinks it is.Clara they are sending away."

"Valar...Thranduil...they've left!" Aradan gasps and spins to glance out towards the bustling stable courtyard. My gaze follows his and I spy the open gate...I am going to kill him!

"Stay here," he commands and I snort in disgust...yes, that's likely. "There will be a better view from the ramparts. He cannot have gone that far alone...Thranduil...Thrandul what part of stay do you not understand?"

"Shut up Aradan!" I call back towards him as I reach the gate and point up towards the rampart. "Just get up there and guide me!"

"Bloody Princes!" I hear him whinge in exasperation, and I resist the urge to stop and throw something blunt at his head...idiot!

The forest is tranquil, it's relaxed and sleepy tones are the first feeling that hits me when I race through the gate and into the free air. I sway unintentionally, because it's wild spirit automatically pacifies mine...it does not like that I have disturbed its contentedness. To wake it up would be to entice it's wrath, for I am nothing but a guest in its realm...or at least this is the flavour of the warning that I taste in my fea.

But I am not just a guest!

Forcefully I remind the forest's spirit of who it threatens. We are kin...it and I...our bond is a natural one, I was born into it and I am it's son...so it can awaken enough to find mine!

The roots of the trees stretch under foot, the earth vibrates, the sensation would be entirely indiscernible to anyone but me. The breeze weaves through the leaves...the forest is communing...the wildness in my spirit stirs. It's a hard sensation to temper, it has always been difficult to control. Nana always warned me to remember the things of the heart, for emotion and attachments keep us connected to reality. Our wild spirits, if left unfettered, would leave us in a constant state of instinct - for there is little emotion behind instinct.

I hold tightly to the bond I share with Legolas...it is real...there is love in it. I sense the spirit of the forest inspect that bond, it curiously considers it...it is an amusing thing to the wild...but it recognises it. The voices of the trees begin to hum together through the leaves and bare branches.

...Greenleaf...blood of Daughterleaf...borne fourth of the son of Spring...our kin...our kin...West...the Leaf blew West...too quick for Spring to catch...go West...go West Spring...go West to snare our little leaf...

Instinctually I cut West, for I have learned that one does not ignore the voices of the trees, for they may speak in riddles but they are never wrong.

True enough, some fifty yards in a westward direction I pick up tracks. Barely discernible footfalls on dry ground. The shape of an elfling's boot is clear, and the breeze knocks me with a nose full of a familiar scent...my scent...and her's...not his mother by blood but by claim...at least that is how the wild sees it. I cannot argue with its logic...it is only instinct.

I leap over a fallen tree, its roots still clinging to the earth so half of it still breathes with life whilst the other slowly decays into rotten holes. There is something deeply familiar and unsettling about its image - a carcass with a heart - don't I look like that? Am I that useless?

As if to contradict me the branches of the fallen tree twist and groan in the breeze, and with it comes a soft whimper. The tree is crying...now that is illogical...even for me!

I pause, staring quizzical over the great trunk, part of it hallow and gaping. The half-living tree sobs again, and the very hairs on my neck stand in registration.

I return to the fallen oak, and ease along its trunk with the lightest of steps...testing the hallow from the whole. Eventually I prowl over a collapsed side of the flaking bark, were the last of the fall leaves have gathered in a decaying mound. Instinctually I stretch into the warm yet wounded hallow, and to my utter relief my hands seize around the scruff of my elfling.

Plucking him out of the rot, I unceremoniously toss the child on the soft earth beneath us, the cold light illuminating his pale and frightened features. A feral growl escapes me in my panic as I leap from the deadened tree to corner him. I don't know whether to kill him or kiss him...either way I want to smother him. Stupid child - stupid, reckless, stubborn child!

"A-a-d-da..." He chatters as he shuffles away from me, his back hitting a boulder, his little frame trembling like the fragile little leaf he is.

"What...what where you thinking!"

It was not a question and he knew that. I watched him coil into the cold moss covered rock, tears springing to his eyes...little innocent eyes so full of fright.

"You do not leave!" I hiss and snatch him from the ground, clawing him close, hiding him from sight. He is too small, too young, anything could take him...stupid child!

My heart is flooded with relief, and the panic eventually ebbs. The horrendous scenarios of the animals that could have picked an elfling off, or the treacherous terrain that could break him begin to ease, and are replaced with more logical thoughts.  That instinctual bond between my son and I, that was suddenly the forefront of all my thoughts, starts to thrum peacefully again.

He is here...he is safe...protected.

I run the fingers of my right hand through the lengths of his hair, using my left to hold him tight to my side. These things, these normal sensations - touch - that is more than instinct, more than the wild.  My body will not recoil, my mind and spirit conflict between rational intelligence and survival instinct. I hate this...to feel something between beast and being. Naneth warned me it was a hard route, a complicated balance - 'to be one of the forest yet not, is both curse and blessing,' that is what she said...she was right.

"I-I-I g-got l-l-lost," Legolas stutters, his voice muffled and lost as I nearly suffocate him. I want him close, he is mine...not the possession of elves or the wild...my blood.

...Our kin's kin...Greenleaf belongs to tree and root...free as the wind that carries us West...

I bristle, suppressing a warning snarl...Not West...he belongs to me...the West does not hold claim on him yet. The musical notes of the forest almost sound amused by my warning, so I kneel down to him and hold him close...I need him...please lay no claim on him...not West.

"Ada...Ada are y-you crying?" He asks clearly, his finger outstretching to touch my cheek. I blink and suddenly the hold of the forest's spirit does not run so deep. I practically wilt in relief.

"Legolas," I barely breathe out as I rest my brow against his, "why did you leave?"

"I wanted to bring Clara back," he murmurs and drops his gaze guiltily. "They were talking about taking the outsider back to her home...I thought they had found Clara's home...Ada you have to stop them. She does not want to go back, she wants to stay with us, you have to let her stay!"

"She will stay!" I brashly interrupt in my frustration, and the boy jumps clean out of his skin. "She never left Legolas, it was Ithril that was sent away. You should not be so presumptuous child, have you no sense? Think Legolas, think before you run into danger...what would I have done if I lost you? You cannot leave...you mustn't leave me."

"I-I-I am s-sorry," he begins to sob again, reaching to throw his arms around my neck. I pull him into me, and come to stand, letting his tears stain my shoulder. I doubt he understood the depth of my words, and how to my ears they sounded more like pleading. I would rather die than lose him, and if I have to die to keep him safe, to keep him here...I will.

"Hush," I soothe quietly and stroke his hair, "there is no need for this...none at all."

"I want to see Clara," he mumbles out between sobs, and my heart begins to weigh in my hallow chest. I am no comfort to him, I am only the source of his anxiety.

"I promise you will," I sigh and press a kiss to his cheek. "I promise I will make this right ion-nin, please just give me time...I promise."

xXx

Legolas fell silent in my arms by the time we reached home, he was not sleeping but he was weary. I felt his silence keenly, like a relentless punishment for my selfish crimes. He should never have to suffer because of my desires, but he has and I doubt such things are inevitable. Especially when he is the offspring of Kings.

Adar was waiting for us, and he was pale and weak by the time we met on the threshold of my chambers. His hair was strewn messily, his eyes heavy, his features temporarily aged.

I only stared at him.

"Is he well? There was no harm?" Adar whispers his eyes filling with guilt. I simply shake my head as I step around him and place Legolas on the settee closest to the fire, pulling a felt rabbit from the table and wiggling it playfully in front of him. He smiles, and reaches for the toy - the gesture makes my heart stutter painfully.

"Thranduil, I-" Adar begins, but I hold up my hand to silence him before pointing to the hallway. He dutifully obliges and I drag after him with about as much enthusiasm as a snail.

"Whatever apology you want to make I really do not need to hear it," I mutter as I gingerly close over the door, purposefully keeping my voice as quiet as I can.

"But you do," he pushes and wrings his hands nervously. "Thranduil, I never meant to drive a wedge between you and your son...I acted too quickly and on too swift an emotion."

"You acted cruelly," I snap and resist spewing out all my reasons why, "whatever reason, it means little now."

"Of course it matters, I do not understand?" Adar almost groans in frustration, as he begins to rub his temple.

"The only thing that matters is him," I almost growl as I point beyond the door. "Only both of us fail to remember that, between ruling kingdoms and conquests of the heart, that child has been forgotten. I did not bring him into this world to be nothing more than an asset to you, to me, or any damn Lord for that matter."

"He has a birthright-"

"Not while I am alive," I say coldly, my posture stiffening. "I would give up my life for him, in a heartbeat, but I would also give up my childish whims in order to rule so he never has to...so he never knows these shackles."

"Would you give up the elleth?" Adar's voice is challenging, but I was prepared for this.

"Would you give up your ideals to allow your Grandson the mother he needs?" The question takes him off guard, and he scowls defensively. "All arguments aside, taking both our desires out of this...you cannot deny the love she has for him, and he for her. I cannot part them, it is what is best for him."

"I will not recognise her as royalty Thranduil," Adar warns and I just shake my head in defeat, I cannot argue with someone so unwilling to listen. "She is hiding something, you are being foolish with your heart ion, but it is your heart and not mine. I will not stand in the way of your desires to wed the elleth, and be advised it is only because I love my grandson that I will bear this. But, mark my words Thranduil, you do not know her...will you be able to live with another betrayal? If she is attached to Legolas you will never be able to get away from the shame, she will always have a hold on you."

"I will take my chances," I answer simply.

"Then so be it," Adar sighs, but clasps a hand around my arm in an almost comforting gesture. "I have only made this worse for you, and I want no resentment between us, so permit me clear the air with Clara, and set my grandson straight on the matter...it was not my intention to make him run from you."

"I would appreciate that," I mumble wearily, a small relieved smile stitches itself on my face.

"Then I will go now," he tells me and reaches for the door, pausing momentarily to fish something out of his robe. "These rings are simply, beautiful but rather plain...I only hope and pray that your pursuit of this union will be the same."

He places the box containing the betrothal rings into my palm. I glance questionably at him, but he gives nothing away, his face a distant and hard mask as he leaves me.

I guess that is as close to a blessing as I could hope for.

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