Chapter Text
Days later, Elrond looked once again upon the edge of the woodland halls, gazing forward into the forest and the journey he would later have to take back to Imladris. Upon arriving in this realm, he had been almost hesitant, if he was honest, having not seen his friend, the king, for many a year, and unsure of the reception they would gain from him. Rumours had spread of his haughtiness and hostility, isolated in his darkened fortress in the midst of the Wild. Elrond had not been one to listen to gossip but after knowing the elf in his youth, being aware of his strong character - to put it rather mildly, he had been all too willing to believe it may hold some truth.
When they stepped foot into Thranduil's citadel, or more so when they approached his imposing throne, he had thought the whispers would soon come to light, such was the expression upon the ruler's face. He was mysterious, still guarded even when speaking with Elrond in private, and a kind of protective icy shield seemed always to surround him. Of course, the Peredhel was familiar with his history, familiar with the despair that had fallen him - few elves escaped without tragedy in their long lives - but his untouchability appeared alien, even so. If the hushed talk about him had turned out to be reality, he had vowed not to become like the king, not in the face of the malice that had befallen him also. He would deal with his pain in different ways.
Now, the day of departure back to his own land, he wondered if what had happened between him and Legolas had been one of those ways. Before taking the lovely elf to bed, he had considered that as the reason, and for all he thought, it was probably the main explanation. Legolas was desolate and obviously morose being in such a confined realm, under the will of his powerful father, and irritated by doubts about what lay beyond the enclosed borders. To have someone from the elusive outside world tell him of it had brought some light into his eyes, the sort Elrond had been privileged to see earlier in his life. He desired greatly to make that little illumination glow brighter; and when he was wrapped in his arms, moaning in pleasure and abandon, cares thrown to the wind, he had almost pulsated with lustre.
It would have been enough for Elrond but he soon came to realise that it was not enough for Legolas, despite his intense euphoria in the heat of the moment. To his infinite surprise, Thranduil had come to them, the lonely, forsaken king, and Legolas had confessed a love and need that was deeply rare and forbidden between two so close in kinship. Even in his wisdom and experience of the world, it had been something Elrond had not been witness to, or heard of, often at all. But the strength of the adoration that bloomed in Legolas, and the affection which spilled from Thranduil, seemingly unbridled by Legolas' words, had convinced him of its purity. In a few moments, he understood at least some of the oppression which had been pushed upon the two elves, strangling them and torturing them for who knew how long.
Deep inside, he knew that he had not been entirely unselfish with making love to Legolas, fondling and touching him in passion. From the minute he first saw him, he had felt a throbbing yearning for him, to possess him in the way of amorous lovers. He was beautiful, both in body and soul, and to cherish him would be easy and a great honour.
He had no idea that he would lose him to so unexpected a partner, but in honesty, he was never really his to lose. Legolas was no one's but himself, yet his heart evidently belonged to Thranduil, the love he felt spanning so many different forms and manifestations of the emotion. Elrond had been happy to aid them in their uncommon unity with one another, if merely in order to see the delight that it brought them both. And, as he had told Thranduil again and again over the past week, they deserved it.
In turn, it had brought peace to Elrond's own heart. To instil some unique joy into the halls of Mirkwood had not been his mission upon arriving there but it had turned out to be a satisfying result. His last two centuries had been fraught with turmoil, the loss of his wonderful wife cutting deep into his fëa, a scar that would never depart from him. It would ever haunt him, the way he had not been able to solace her, had not been able to keep her in Middle Earth, but by offering happiness to another - in this case, Legolas and Thranduil - it had assured him of his abilities to still love and hold. He was not devoid of the skill of making others jubilant. Even if he would never truly feel it again.
But he would still strive towards it. To see Thranduil, the product of so much hardship, rising to finding some contentment, gave him hope. Celebrían had made him vow to be joyful until they saw each other again and now, he could perceive some brightness upon the distant horizon, at least. He had never expected to discover it here, not in the dark depths of the woodland realm. But, as they sat at its heart, waiting to say farewell to their hosts in a few hours, he could not help smiling. He had awoken with warmth inside of him, the serenity of accomplishment and the future, and that was something he was determined to grasp onto. His children looked at him oddly, as if they found something wrong with him, something amiss in their father, but for the morning, they had laughed together, untainted and fair, for the first time in so long. Their own lights joined his, battling more of the bleakness within him.
Now, he could not believe he was feeling almost pitiful to leave the realm of Thranduil behind. He did not know what their encounter, their subsequent discussions, the discovery of something else so dear to the elf, would mean for the coming days. He would be lying if he said he did not want Thranduil to unbind some of the chains around his home, to open it up to the world about him and to those who he could ally and work with. He had been many millennia in the shadows, a figure in darkened self-appointed exile, and to see his presence more would please Elrond greatly. To have their old friendship rekindled would be a privilege. And to see the barriers of Mirkwood fall away, the depths opening, to give and receive, to interact with the rest of the places she had abandoned, or that had abandoned her... It would be a matter of untold consequence.
But Elrond did not know Thranduil, inside. For all he knew, the attainment of another precious jewel in his kingdom may enclose it even more. What would come to pass in the mind of the woodland king, and his home, was not something anyone, not even Galadriel, could possibly foretell.
A long week after arriving, having had such momentous occasions happen during that, Elrond felt a vast mix of emotions surging through him. He was glad for it, to sense and feel the differences after the years of disaster. Although he did not know what he was leaving behind in Mirkwood, he hoped that, in Imladris, the future would be clear in its tranquility, at least for a while. The purity of the valley would continue to stand against the darkness, aided by their trust and belief. He felt blessed that this may have been enhanced through this short, previously uncertain visit.
He hoped that the gifts that had been born by it would flourish over the approaching times.
~~~
After living so long in the darkness of the woods, Thranduil had almost forgotten what pure, shining sunlight looked like. He had become accustomed to the shadows of the forest, the arched canopies of the leaves covering the skies above, the embrace of ancient trees. They did not question his intents, they did not peer down upon his actions; in the confines of the bleakness, no one, not even ones who could, dared to breathe a word about what he had done. They suffered together, they built their own world together, they looked towards and faced their own troubles. Many millennia had passed and Thranduil almost found comfort in their dissolution.
He had fretted that maybe, somehow, inviting others to the realm would breach it, would invade its sanctity. It had been long since he had been able to fully trust another who was not his own kin: and of that, he only had one member left. But for the others - it was not their thoughts of Mirkwood's lonely king that he worried about, yet the poison they may bring with them. The land and its people had tasted enough of it, the toxicity lying deep in their veins and home. It, and they, needed no more.
However, days on, a sensation which he barely recognised as rare gratefulness coursed through him. Before their coming, he had thought he would be left with nothing but tolerance and indifference within, yet something else had been granted to him.
Dare he say that alongside that gratefulness, was hope?
He had felt that emotion so little that he had almost wondered if he was capable of it anymore. Certainly the depths of Mirkwood, his heart and soul as it may be, was a place were few buds of faith grew.
But to awake in the mornings with Legolas nestled in his arms, warm and gentle, was a gratuity of much joy. He had never thought that he would find happiness - as ephemeral or permanent as time would tell - in this way, though he found he he could not detain himself from it. Legolas smiled - such a beautiful, genuine smile - each day when he arose to reality in the comfort of his bed and by the Valar, Thranduil did not ever want to erase that sight. His son was a treasure - his greatest and dearest - and he wished every hour that Legolas could live a life different to his own had been. To please him and make him glad was one of Thranduil's greatest wishes,
He thanked Elrond for what he had done, despite not revering it at the start. The wise Lord of Imladris had encouraged them, coaxed their desires which had festered and hidden for years, and allowed them to explore them as truthfully as if they had been mere young lovers. Thranduil would never forget how it had felt to hold Legolas like that for the first time. Secrets even he hadn't known about had rushed to the surface, the answer to all the dark clouds that had been hanging over him, the inexplicable longings given form.
He loved him. And he loved him back.
Still, the notion of it aroused muddled feelings inside of Thranduil. From one point of view, this is what he had craved for, a clandestine, unknown yearning that had bitten at his fëa for centuries. Legolas responded to him willingly, needfully, uttering words of utmost affection and encouragement. After Lord Elrond had left them, Legolas had awoken from his stupor and they had conversed long into the night about what they were embroiled in. His prince had opened his heart to him and laid bare his deepest thoughts with love in his tones. Thranduil could not deny such honesty - this is what Legolas wanted, he had repeated that time and time again.
Thranduil knew that this was what he wanted too - that was impossible to refute. He desired to spoil and lavish Legolas with the most profound gifts - after all, that was what this party had been for in the first place. His son was the most wonderful gem in all his world, even though he may not show that often.
But that was the chief reason for the hesitancy also blooming within him. By pursuing this contraband relation, he feared he would lose Legolas, that they would lack something between them, displaced by their passion. He couldn't bear such an idea as having Legolas slip through his fingers, to abandon the kinship so sacred to them. At the most basic level of what they were doing, it was wrong. It was something to be ashamed and reviled by. Even as he again made love to Legolas that morning, hearing his erotic babbling in his ear, feeling the raw ecstasy of their frenzy, he doubted himself.
Maybe it was because of what had happened. Maybe it was because he was not used to attaining the happiness he desired.
Either way, he was not fully settled with the idea of their new bond yet. He would not give up on them - to do so would tear both of their souls apart - but it would take time. The shock of the situation had still not passed by.
And, in the quiet tranquility of the sunrise, Legolas had suddenly turned to him and spoken the words rattling in his brain as well.
"What about her?" he had whispered.
He had not answered - he could not at the time. For all the pondering he had done, he could still not face voicing the betrayal they had wilfully committed. Legolas had tried to convince him that it was alright, they she had pleaded for them to find contentment before she had passed, that it was she, as a Silvan of the woods, who had spoken to Thranduil of following love no matter what form it came in. Thranduil found he could not be swayed by Legolas' words but when seeking out Elrond, one who had similarly lost somebody dear to him, he was surprised to hear he said the same things. Mourning would yet deepen the fracture, he advised. It was not cold-hearted to focus on their own joy, especially when their wives had so wished for it before leaving this world. They would ever remember them, of course, nothing could stop that. But the elleths' memories did not prevent their remaining happiness; it would be disrespectful to them to forget that. And both had been great fanciers of speaking their own thoughts, ones who were braver than many warriors - surely, they would chuckle at their husbands' hesitancies.
It seemed to Thranduil that both Elrond and Legolas were making peace with the notion. But still, the king dithered, agitated by his imaginings. He would always be bound to his wife; an Elvish custom that few had strayed from and which would always remain inside him, yet other pieces of his heart felt as though they could simply be rent in half without these new emotions. Honestly, he did not know what she would think. As his son and Elrond had said, she was a champion of both their happiness, striving for it in many ways, but this - this was unique. So very, very unique.
Despite the conflict within, though, there was no denying the light Legolas brought to him. As his son, his companion, his warrior, his advisor, his lover... No, that was not the word for it. Nothing could quite sum up what Legolas was to him. Their form of adoration was forbidden and frowned upon but verily, the way he loved him was untainted - there was nothing he would ever do to hurt him or force him. And many said that if love was true, the Valar would have mercy and understanding upon them, no matter where it came from.
He wondered if that was how his wife would think of it also. Maybe he would visit her sanctuary in the palace today - a room dedicated solely to her warmth and life - and face up to what he had feared. There were few other ways he thought he could find harmony with this situation.
Upon visiting Elrond earlier to speak of this, he had also seemed to pine for something more. All knew about the isolation Thranduil imposed on his kingdom and the strength of the borders around it. It did not take long for Thranduil to recognise what it was Elrond was hinting at. He wanted Thranduil to be more open, more willing to accept and garner help for those outside his home. No doubt the circumstances which had occurred between them and Legolas had prompted this idea.
Again, though, Thranduil had been unable to respond to these hopes of Elrond, unspoken and not. For all he thought, it would be a rash decision to act so quickly, to abandon all that he and his father had worked towards for millennia. Although the aid Elrond had brought to them was appreciated, he would not make any promises, not for a future no one could see. Years of caution could not suddenly be turned away from. There was still dread and horror lurking in the world beyond, looking for any hint of weakness to penetrate in.
And there was much in his life he wished to guard.
Now, mere hours before Elrond and his party returned back to Imladris, he knew that the Peredhel would be leaving behind a different situation to the one he entered into. Thranduil did not know what the results of this would be, although the heady, strange feeling that not everything would be the same filled him with peculiarity. Usually change meant a darkening of his heart, something that would eat away at the foundations he had built and maintained obsessively. But this time... It was unfamiliar. For a reason he knew not, Thranduil found he was smiling upon walking to his throne room.
Whatever it was, they would endure, as they always had striven to.
And as he strode through the halls, he couldn't help noticing elusive rays of sunshine gleaming through the windows, bathing his path in temporary gold.
~~~
In the few days that Mirkwood had had guests, Legolas could not believe how much had changed. He had feared that their arrival would do nothing more than upset his father's carefully upheld systems and control for a short time, disturb the ways the king went about, and when they left, they would leave no trace that could not be cleared easily. It was an obvious idea; for many of his years, he had hardly seen a soul come through those gates that did not inhabit the realm - he did not think an outsider could so impact such a tightly regimented land. But, waking on the last morning of their stay, cradled in Thranduil's arms, head buried in his shoulder, it was almost as if he was existing in another world.
Before the parties came from their respective homes, he had never dared to wish for anything more inside the woodland realm. There had been no more he could see himself, or any other, having within this isolated fortress. He bore his troubles, as all did, until they almost became commonplace: the kingdom of suffering beneath the heavy darkened trees. It was something he could never imagine changing, not with his father's seemingly eternal stubbornness and morose nature. He refused anything and everything else, the broken hermit in the East. Legolas knew he was acutely aware of the areas beyond the borders yet he merely chose to ignore them for concern of what may spread to their own lives, what may infect their ravaged halls.
But then, for a simple week only - not even a second in time for an elf, usually - others had come, from Imladris, from Lothlórien, entering under the sacred boughs of the woods. The prince did not question it, only appreciated the differing faces at his celebrations. He did not entertain any hope of this breaking his father's policies.
Even now, after much had become unfamiliar in his life, he still did not know what it meant for the realm's solitude and exile. But he could not think of such things yet. Warmth and joy coursed too sharply through his fëa, such an elusive feeling, that he had no mind for much else, only the sudden reprieve from the despair of old, it seemed.
He would ever be grateful to Lord Elrond for what he had brought to them. Firstly for his caring, diligent treatment of him, the way he had evoked such arousal between them and explored him like no other had. And also for opening up thoughts and ideas within him that had only ever inhabited the very corners of his mind, irritating him without knowledge of what they truly were. The dreams had frightened him but now when they came to him, they were filled with light and acceptance, or occurred in honest reality. The depths of misunderstanding were at an end.
For Thranduil to take him in his arms that night only so recently and kiss him and touch him and commit all his love upon him was exquisite. His heart and soul felt so free and so light that he thought he could soar. Elrond had helped them, encouraged Thranduil alongside Legolas, and together, they had found something that they never truly knew they needed but now craved so passionately for.
After Elrond had left and they had been alone, Legolas had talked with his father for hours until the sun had risen over the dark arches of the woods. He loved him in so many senses of the word and none negated another. He loved him as a father, as a king, as a protector, as one to protect himself, as a lover... He ached with the adoration which suddenly arose in him, years of unknown repression breaking under it. Shadows lifted from even the deepest recesses, giving way to passion and exuberance he could not deny.
Amongst this assault, nothing felt wrong or deviant. He knew many would frown upon this strange relationship, this overstepping of the boundaries of blood ties, yet ever since he had supported Thranduil into his bed, he had barely considered such things. To his mind, their affection was nothing but pure and fair. Such a love had the power to tear them asunder if it was ceased.
Thranduil still hesitated, he knew. The ancient elf had been through much in his long life and though Legolas was eager to allow the fruits of this adoration to grow, he was ever aware of his father's lingering uncertainty. He did not wish for this to harm them, to bring them more despair. Thranduil's decisions were never entered into brashly or without ponderous consideration. The prince could do nothing but respect that. He had patience, as all elves did. He would aid his father, he would do all in his reach to make him comfortable, as he had for him his entire life.
Still, deep in Thranduil's eyes, he could see the burning glow of adoration, ready to burst through without hindrance once his frets had been allayed. Legolas already could notice some of them falling away in the strength of their unity, the promise of precious hope consuming all. For the first time in too long, the other morning, his father had smiled genuinely, pressing his lips to his forehead and embracing him close. In a few short moments, he was no longer the stoic, icy ruler of the forsaken kingdom but a warm, gentle elf displaying his care and devotion.
Legolas had not seen that side of him since before his mother had disappeared. Though many centuries had passed since that day, her memory would ever linger on the halls. Certainly, she still influenced much of what his father did, the queen ruling on in spirit. He knew Thranduil must be thinking of her in this unfamiliar time. After their first night in each other's arms, Legolas had been quick to visit her sanctuary in the palace, to receive her thoughts. The little room had been her favourite place in life and when the prince entered into it, her presence still could be felt there. That morning, there had been nothing but peace and tranquility within its four walls, no malice or disapproval that he was sure he would have sensed had she been angry with them. She had never been one to hide her opinions; a trait which the young princeling had greatly admired.
Her words would always echo in his brain, pieces of advice which he would hold in his heart until the world no longer turned. She had told him once that when she and his father met, it had been she who convinced him of their bond and who urged him onwards. He had been halting, she said, afraid of what might come to them if something unpleasant may happen. But she had insisted that their happiness would outweigh that. A Silvan of the woods Thranduil's Sindarin kin had entered into, their positions and lifestyles were far apart. Yet she had spoken that love should not be forced to stop, no matter what form it took. That was the only thing they should be afraid of.
Legolas was not afraid anymore. For now, as far as he knew, the worries of the world crumbling beyond their doorstep had been settled by Elrond's words to him at the party, and in the long sought-for conversations with others over the last week. And within the realm, Thranduil had returned to his side, no longer seeming so distant.
If it was what it took for this closeness to continue to bloom, he could wait a little longer. The joy in his heart was bold enough to endure.
Now, it was the day of the guests' departure, and he was sorry to see them go. Such a touch and effect they had had on the kingdom, one that would surely linger. He had already insisted his obligation to Lord Elrond over and over again for his actions and advice but still, as he approached the gates where they would say farewell, he still felt as though he had not done enough. The Peredhel had astounded him with his honourable character and wisdom. If nothing more adapted in his father's policies, he hoped more frequent visits to, or from, the Lord of Imladris could be arranged.
A bright morning had merged into a pleasant afternoon and when Legolas stepped outside beyond the bridge, the image of Mirkwood almost seemed unfamiliar. Not for many centuries had he seen it so bathed in gold and light or so still in its tranquility. It appeared that the Valar looked happily down upon them all, this day secure from any of the turmoil in the world. The prince was gratified to see that many members of the leaving groups had smiles upon their faces, laughing and joking amongst themselves.
For a while, Legolas was content to simply watch the other elves, gaining a rare glimpse at those beyond his home. Even in the small ways they moved and talked, they were unlike his kith and kin of the forest. It was something that he had never really considered, having met so few from outside of the woods. But to observe them was somewhat relaxing and comforting. The ideas of bringing such separate souls into the realm may be healthy for it, refreshing the land and breathing new life into it, no matter how ancient many of these elves were.
His father would not like him admitting this but that turn of events had appeared to be a positive thing. The tranquility was tangible, easing his body and fëa as he moved throughout the trees.
Even Thranduil, who soon arrived with his guards, seemed to notice the difference. For a moment, he paused beside Legolas and the prince could see the sparkle in his eyes, the realisation that something had changed in his realm. He stood there, gaze reflecting the sunlight through the canopies, and then slowly breathed in and out, as if drinking in the fresh sweetness of the air. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He turned to Legolas, a look of untainted mirth in his expression. The calmness of the woods had seemed to stretch its careful embrace around him also.
Together, they advanced over to the gatherings of their visitors, coming to stand before them. All turned at the presence of the king and his prince, listening to what matters Thranduil had to say. Legolas was pleased to hear a dulcet tone to his voice, accentuating the announcements of appreciation and good will he spoke to them, thanking all for their coming and kind stays. It was no more beyond a speech of custom but Legolas enjoyed listening to it all the same, having never been able to before. And to hear the genuine affability in his father's voice was a further nicety.
Although he had not been asked to add anything more, he found he could not help saying a few statements himself, echoing Thranduil's acknowledgement with his own generosity. Many nodded in response but nothing truly else - most had already said their goodbyes before, in a less formal setting, to the prince they had been so courteous to over the last few days.
However, neither Legolas nor Thranduil could allow Elrond to leave back to Imladris without a few further words with him. While the others prepared for their journey home, they made sure to briefly accost him once more, walking him to a quieter space off the busy road. Thranduil spoke to him first, granting him many gracious praises and reiterating words already affectionately uttered. Elrond took them politely but shook his head, insisting the king's mercy was exaggerated. It was simply not just he who had incurred the events of the previous days. Legolas supposed he was correct yet could not ever see the Lord of Imladris as unimportant in their transpiring - without him, he was not sure where they would be now - probably not much different from how they had been a week ago. He thanked him thoroughly, waving off Elrond's modest dismissals.
However, it was Thranduil who soon surprised him the most. When the Peredhel had been filled to the brim with gratitude, he stopped him once more before he headed back to his own company, offering over a rare gift. Legolas was overjoyed to hear of it. His father, distancing himself briefly from his rigid laws, allowed Elrond freer access to his woods, effectively approving further visits in the future. Elrond's eyes had sparkled at this, maybe not so much at the favour but what it meant for Thranduil's frame of mind. He accepted it with a smile, one which was outshone only by the neighbouring glow in Legolas' expression. In an action of utter friendship, he put a hand over his heart and in turn, permitted the two elves to take up residence in his land whenever convenient.
The opening of mutual homes was a token of genuine trust and regard. Legolas was proud and enchanted to hear it come from his father's lips. The visage of Elrond's face showed his awareness also.
So, when the Peredhel rejoined his convoy for Imladris, Legolas nodded to his father, trying to convey all of his joy in that one look. Thranduil smiled to him and together, they ascended to the heights above the citadel to watch the parties venture between the trees away from their lands. Both could agree much had changed since they had come.
Soon, Thranduil dismissed his guards back to the fortress and once alone, he entwined his fingers through Legolas' and raised his hand to press his lips to it. Legolas sighed a little, somewhat surprised at but enjoying the feeling. Light gleamed in Thranduil's blue eyes. "I will be sorry to see them go," he said quietly. Legolas beamed, the statement evoking deeply emotional sentiments within him. He tried to respond but the words became stuck, weighed down with the joy in his heart.
Thranduil seemed to understand these thoughts in his head. Softly, he reached out and stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. Legolas trembled, yet leaned in willingly as he placed a tender kiss upon his mouth, embracing him in the most loving of ways. All the doubts Thranduil had previously harboured had appeared to disappear; the caress of the forest, the brightness of the sun, the healing hands of the sanctuary Legolas knew he had visited working together to lighten his fëa. He wanted to hold onto him forever, to find peace for a while in each other's harmony. He passionately kissed him back, unable to contain the seas of adoration much longer. The force of them met with Thranduil's, merging into a heady, boundless ocean. It was beyond any description.
When they at last pulled away, looking deep into one another's eyes, they grinned and laughed gently, darkness so far away it almost felt intangible for once. Light spilled through the canopies, illuminating everything in a comforting grace. Down below, the distant sound of laughter reached their ears. All was a moment of pleasure, of delight and serenity.
"Come," Thranduil said eventually though, brushing his lips once more across Legolas' fingers. "Let us return home. Your company is a fair promise."
Legolas smiled once again, echoing the blissful countenance of his father and seeing only hope within it. The idea contentedly blocked all else out. Side by side, they walked, descending back down the green hill and safe and secure in the promise of the care and love bestowed upon them.