Translation of Elvish: Mellonen - my friend. Seron vell - beloved. Nín anoriel - my sun-maiden.
Chapter 6 - Calen Glad
It had been four days since they had left Caras Galadhon behind and finally the small party was
approaching the borders of King Thranduil's realm. The two elves seemed to almost relish the growing
darkness of Mirkwood, but Éowyn and Gimli grew restless. Tales of vile beasts, giant spiders, and
even worse finally took their toll. But nothing could happen to them as long as they kept to the forest road, could it?
Sudden rustling in the bushes beside the road had the Shield-maiden on edge. Her sword, a memento of
her beloved Uncle, was in her hands in less than a second and she looked around ready to strike
whatever approached them. Gimli had done likewise and was now eying his surroundings, axe at the
ready. Legolas and Haldir had watched the two and finally started to chuckle. "Éowyn. Gimli. Please
but back your weapons. These must be the Guardians of the southern border. And the King certainly
would be dismayed if you harmed them..."
And indeed it was so. Out of the semi-darkness of the wood they could hear the sound of a deep voice,
deep but certainly elvish. "Stop. You have entered the Realm of Thranduil, King of Calen Glad..." The
elf who had emerged before them suddenly halted and bowed. "Forgive me, my Prince. I did not know it
was you." Four more elven archers stepped up to the riders, bowing before Legolas. "It has been too
long since last you came home, my Prince," the leader of the guardians continued, "Your father will
be glad to see you again."
Only now did he see Legolas' companions, and was startled. Haldir of Lórien, that was nothing new.
Though the King certainly would not be happy to see the arrogant elf of the Golden Wood. A fair
maiden, her cold eyes meeting his gaze, with a sword in her right hand. Had the Prince given up on
this Heir of Isildur? Thranduil would approve of his choice. But the fourth rider, a dwarf. He held
an axe in his hands, not much smaller than the dwarf himself. Legolas could not be serious.
"My Prince, do your companions intend to accompany you to your father's court? I doubt that the
King..." Legolas interrupted the one before him, "You will let us pass. These three are my friends,
and you will treat them with the respect they deserve." Éowyn had never seen Legolas speak to anyone
in such a manner, but it seemed to work as the elf bowed again and stepped back, allowing them to
pass.
Haldir rode up to the Prince and whispered, "Your father will not be pleased to see us, mellonen.
Especially Gimli." Legolas nodded, "Aye, that is why I will make extra haste and ride to the Caverns
before you. I will inform him of your arrival. Do not worry, Haldir. He will welcome you, all of
you." He turned towards Éowyn and Gimli who had moved up to the two elves, nodded towards each of
them and rode off. Haldir watched him disappear into the gloom of the forest, thinking, 'I hope you
are right, mellonen. But you certainly seem to be worried about something...'
"Well, I'm looking forward to meeting the King. Especially after what Gimli's just told me. It seems
his father and the King have a history." Éowyn smirked at the stunned elf. "Well, you must know about
Bilbo's adventure with the dwarves..." And she began to relate the story the dwarf had just told her.
Gimli was growling once or twice, but did not interrupt the Shield-maiden.
Meanwhile, they had reached the Forest River and Haldir raised his hand to halt his two companions.
"Do not touch the water, or you will..." Gimli interrupted the elf; finishing his sentence, "...fall
asleep like poor old Bombur." Éowyn chuckled, "Well, I hope you don't intend to do like him, as I am
not inclined to carrying you around, Master Dwarf." Gimli just glared and murmured something
Dwarvish, something that sounded distinctly like cursing.
Haldir just shook his head. "You better get over it, we will reach the Caverns of the Elven-king
soon. And no matter what Legolas said, Thranduil does not think too highly of the dwarves of Erebor."
To himself he added, 'And neither does he of the elves of Lothlórien or Imladris.'
---
He had been a regular visitor of Mirkwood when he had joined the Guard of the Golden Wood as a March
Warden. There was one time he could still remember as clearly as if it had been yesterday. He had
just arrived with some messages of his Lord and Lady when he saw the King and an elf-maiden strolling
beneath the fresh green of early summer. When Thranduil raised his head to look up to the skies
above, Haldir had seen his face alight with warmth and joy. Never again had such feeling graced the
noble face of the King. Haldir had never found out, who that maiden had been, but he knew that it was
not the Queen of the Wood-elves. What had happened? Why had the King not taken this young she-elf as
his mistress?
Five centuries had passed, and the King had turned into a perfect replica of his father. Cold, greedy
and haughty. Legolas had felt it more than anyone else. He had been close to his father, but over the
years this had chanced dramatically. Why? This question had troubled Haldir since the day Legolas had
appeared in Lórien, clearly distressed, but refusing to give any explanations. There had been times
when Haldir felt the Prince was about to tell him something, but he never had.
When he and Aragorn had first met, when they had bound their lives to each other, Haldir had thought
his friend to be happy again at last. But there was an air of melancholy surrounding the Prince that
prevailed. Every time he returned from a visit to his father's realm, Legolas needed months to become
his normal self again. The last time this had happened, Haldir had made an oath to himself. When next
he saw the Elven King he would corner him. His friend had suffered long enough. He would not allow
this to go on any longer.
---
Night was fast approaching as they neared the Caverns. Above their heads they could hear the soft
whisper of elvish voices, but not the clear laughter Éowyn had grown accustomed to in Lórien. The
fleets were higher up in the trees than in the Golden Wood, and only accessible by ladders of rope.
It was obvious that here the war had not only been fought on the borders, but amongst the wood-elves.
The dark of Dol Guldur had been looming in the south, spilling out orcs and worse creatures at random
times.
A group of soldiers on horseback was drawing near, and Éowyn could see the green of Legolas' tunic
next to the leader of the riders. He was wearing a shining armour, "Mithril," Gimli whispered in awe.
His hair had once been as golden as the Prince's, but now it was not gleaming any more. It was dull,
but still well kept. His noble features were those of a proud warrior, a fighter for his people,
turned to stone after years of battle. As ethereal as all elves appeared to be in her eyes, this one
seemed to be cold as ice but at the same time burning with an eternal fire. "Thranduil," Haldir
murmured.
The King stopped in front of the three companions, inclining his head towards Haldir. "Haldir ó
Lórien, what brings you back to Calen Glad? Does your Lady wish to send me any messages? I do not
want to hear them..." His voice was as cold as his blue eyes, which were fixed on Haldir as if he was
daring the Lórien elf. And the way he had mentioned Galadriel had been one of utmost contempt, almost
hatred. "Or is it your fabled Lord that sent you here? Is he still of the opinion that we would have
never been able to overthrow Dol Guldur if it had not been for his help?"
Éowyn could feel Haldir boil with anger, his rage threatening to break loose. But he could still hold
it back. For how long, she did not even dare to consider. Then Thranduil's gaze fell upon her, and
for a fleeting moment she believed she had seen something warm in the icy pools of his eyes.
Something like hope, a longing that was overwhelming her. However, when he spoke there was no
kindness in his voice. "Éowyn of Rohan. Yes, my son has told me about you. Yet another of your kind
to destroy the life of one of the First-Born..."
Legolas interrupted, unable to restrain himself, "Father, no! It is not her you are angry with, nor
Aragorn. If you indeed have to punish someone, let it be me..." Thranduil had turned towards the
Prince and was now glaring at him. "You dare to tell me what I should do? I think I have to remind
you of the fact that it is I who is King and you who are Prince. And unworthy of being that as well."
Legolas turned away from his father, unwilling to let him see what his words had done to him. "Yes,
unworthy. You even brought a dwarf into my realm!" His voice was dangerously low, hardly more than a
whisper.
Everyone surrounding them eyed Legolas compassionately, but no one ventured to speak up to the King.
Thranduil smiled, and Éowyn could not remember ever seeing a colder smile than his. "You may
entertain your friends, my son. For I am departing, as you see, to inspect our southern border. As is
the duty of the King. I cannot waste my time travelling the world, making friends with the wrong
people." He had turned towards Gimli, and was now staring at the dwarf. "I shall return within a
fortnight. By that time I want this," his hand shot forward, pointing at the dwarf, "creature gone
from my realm."
Without any further word, he urged his horse on. As he was passing Éowyn, their eyes met again
briefly. There it was again, this longing that could never be fulfilled. Then he was gone, and with
him all riders save one. Legolas was silent and stared down at his hands. Something silvery was
running down his cheeks. He was crying. In a second, Haldir had dismounted and was by his friend's
side. "He has no right, no right at all, mellonen."
The Prince looked up, catching Éowyn's gaze. "Forgive him, you must forgive him. He is not himself
anymore..." His voice was breaking as he tried to hold back a sob. Haldir's voice cut through the
silence, now letting out the fury he had felt as soon as he saw the King. "How can you still try to
justify his actions? The way he treats you, worse than we would handle our prisoners..." But Legolas
held up a hand to silence the angry Lórien elf. "Pray, follow me to the Caverns." In a pleading tone
he added, "Please, mellonen, let it rest."
---
As soon as they had arrived at the King's Palace, Legolas had seen to their accommodation and then
left them. Haldir was standing by the door, murmuring to himself. Éowyn could only catch a few words
but what she understood was not to her likening. Gimli had been silent ever since they had met with
Thranduil. Éowyn could see that he was torn between anger at being addressed as 'this creature', and
worry for Legolas.
Éowyn herself was shaken. How could someone as gentle and kind, as passionate and brave as Legolas be
the son of this cruel and heartless elf? What confused her even more was what she had seen in the
King's eyes. She was sure of it now. There was a sadness within him that destroyed everything that
came too close to it. She sighed. There was no way of finding out anything by sitting around, looking
at a brooding elf and a dwarf who was now sharpening his axe.
She left the chambers and stopped one of the many servants, inquiring after the Prince's whereabouts.
Soon she stood in front Legolas' room, knocking softly. The door opened, revealing the pained face of
the Prince. "May I come in?" she asked hesitantly. The elf nodded and stepped aside, allowing her
inside. Once the door was closed, he led her to a group of chairs around a large fireside.
"My Lady, you must forgive my father. He has many worries that are wearing him down, and he has never
been the most sociable person to begin with." Legolas stared into the flames, unable to look into her
eyes. Éowyn reached out, taking one of his hands in hers. "But why does he treat you the way he does?
It can't be just because you chose Aragorn..."
His answer was anything but what she had expected. "I remind him of what he has lost, Éowyn. I am a
living reminder of what he could have had, of what has been taken from him forcefully." His voice was
small, as if it caused him pain to speak those words. At last he raised his head, his deep blue eyes
searching and finding hers. "The fact that I exist has made it impossible for him to have the one
thing he desired with all his heart and soul. When even the small happiness he still had was taken
from him, he became the person he is now." With a deep sigh he added, "He hates me."
Not letting go of his hand she stood slowly and then knelt down next to him. "How could he? He is
your father." Everything she had so far experienced did nothing to help her comprehend, to understand
anything of what Legolas had just told her. "I'm sure he's just worried that you... Well, you're
bound to a mortal." Unbidden a thought flashed through her mind, 'Just like Haldir...' No, she would
not think about that now. There was nothing she could do any more.
Sadly the Prince shook his head, "You do not understand." Anger was suddenly flaring inside of her,
and she snapped, "Then explain it to me! It hurts me to see you like this, but you refuse to allow me
to help you. You will not allow anyone to help you." And suddenly she thought she understood, "You
think you deserve this treatment. You think that your father is right in what he's doing. He isn't!
Legolas, I've never met anyone with a heart as pure as yours. I am here not because of Haldir, but
because of you. Without your help I might very well be at Edoras now, leading a half-life. And
Haldir..."
"That was not me. He would have followed you, no matter where you went." Éowyn squeezed his hand,
"Why can't you accept my gratitude? Why do you think so little of yourself? What has the King done to
you?" It was obvious that Legolas' sudden insecurity had been caused by Thranduil. But why? What dark
secret overshadowed father and son alike? If she wanted to help her friend, she needed to find out.
And she would.
---
"Seron vell. What can you tell me about Thranduil?" Haldir stared at Éowyn, confusion clearly written
on his features. "Thranduil? Should I worry?" Éowyn shook her head and slowly approached her lover.
"You know very well that this is not so. It is Legolas. He told me... He said that Thranduil hates
him. I cannot believe that. I cannot!"
Haldir sighed. Looking into Éowyn's eyes he saw concern and sorrow. He had to tell her what he knew,
but that would mean he had to break the trust Legolas placed into him. Only once had the Prince
confided in another person. Five centuries ago, Legolas had appeared in Haldir's talan out of
nowhere. He had been drunk, apparently trying to drown his grief. He stumbled onto the platform,
almost tripping over the edge. That fateful night Haldir had learned part of the mystery surrounding
King Thranduil, but much remained in the dark. Legolas never again mentioned anything, and Haldir did
not ask.
But now Éowyn stood before him, waiting for answers. "I do not know very much, nín anoriel." He sat
down on their bed, drawing her down with him. "It seems that Thranduil was never destined to be with
Legolas' mother, Serinde. But Oropher forced them to marry. Thranduil was too young to resist, and he
liked his Queen. She was his friend, his confidant. And she gave him the heir he had always wanted,
Legolas. When I first met him, in Mirkwood, he and Thranduil were almost inseparable. It was obvious
that Thranduil loved his son. Those were happy days." Haldir held onto Éowyn's hand tightly as he
continued, "But it was not to be..."
"What happened?" Haldir's tale had so far only raised more questions, but did not provide any
answers. "Thranduil had several mistresses, and lovers as well. However, one of them, a young
elf-maiden, claimed his heart. I saw them once. Thranduil seemed to be radiating the love he felt for
her. But then, she disappeared. Legolas told me that she went to the Havens. Unable to remain in Arda
after she had lost Thranduil's child, his daughter. From that moment on, he closed himself off from
everyone around him, even from Legolas. The grief he felt turned to rage. Rage that destroyed
everything good around him. Burning anger that scorched Serinde and eventually caused her death. And
Legolas, he always tried to win his father's affections again. But to no avail. No, Thranduil does
not hate him. He feels nothing at all."
Tears were streaming down Éowyn's face. Suddenly she understood why Thranduil had seemed like a faded
image of a golden warrior. He was wasting away. Fading, dying for centuries. "He is... But how?"
Haldir took her in his arms, holding her close. "The King was one of the most vicious fighters
against Sauron and his minions. This was his reason to live. This is what kept him alive all these
years. But now... Legolas' reason for returning here was not his desire to show you the "glory of
Mirkwood" as he put it. He is scared that his father might..."
"That Thranduil might die." Haldir nodded. He knew that Legolas' love for Aragorn would give him
strength for anything. But Aragorn was not here. Would the Prince survive should his father lose his
battle with Mandos? "We have to help him, both of them. There is still life left in the King; I've
seen it. When I looked into his eyes I saw a tiny sparkle of hope. There has to be a way, Haldir,
there has to be..."
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