Comes Around Again (Gigolas & Bagginshield)

A Luke-Warm Lake Welcome

So, too, could Thranduil. "What are you talking about?" he barked, stopping behind the creature. "Speak!"

"Our time has come again," the orc taunted. "My master serves the One." Legolas shut his eyes; it was as he feared. "Do you understand now, Elfling? Death is upon you. The flames of war are upon you."

In one swift motion, Thranduil pulled his sword and spun, slicing cleaning through the orc's neck. It's body fell to the floor, twitching, and Legolas was left holding the head by its mangy hair.

"'The flames of war,'" Legolas repeated, dropping the orc's head onto its body and brushing off his hands. Dragonfire. The enemy wished to use Smaug in the coming war.

Thranduil, however, took it as a question, and spoke Legolas's own thoughts. "It means they intend to unleash a weapon so great it will destroy all before it." He turned to Tauriel. "I want the watch doubled at our borders. All roads, all rivers. Nothing moves, but I hear of it. No one enters this kingdom. And no one leaves it!" Tauriel hesitated for a moment, then bowed stiffly, and left.

"This evil will not pass our borders," Thranduil said to Legolas. "You have done well."

Legolas nodded and made to follow Tauriel--they had to get the Dwarves weapons out of the kingdom and to Laketown before the lockdown was complete, but his father held out a hand. "Stay a moment, ion, and walk with me."

"As you wish," Legolas said.

There was a little used stair that wound its way around the outside of the keep, leading up to a balcony that was used more in lighter times. In the heat of late summer, the trees were thick and green, leaving most of the balcony in shade. Sunlight played between the bows, and danced along the flagstones. A quick breeze whipped around them, tugging at their hair.

Thranduil leaned against the railing, looking out over the kingdom. After a moment, Legolas joined him at his side, tipping his head back and letting the peace of the moment fill him. Since his illness, he had little chance to sit in peace with his father, and it had been sorely missed.

Legolas opened his eyes to find his father watching him. Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Is there something on my face?" he asked. He raised a hand to his cheek, but Thranduil shook his head.

"Nay, my son. No more than road dust. Your skills have not faltered in the wake of your long illness." Thranduil closed his eyes, looking almost pained. "It is good to see you well again."

"It is good to feel well," Legolas said. "There is little restorative to match hard work after long idleness."

Thranduil's eyes opened, narrow. "A most dwarvish notion," he said, dry.

"Is it?" Legolas said, feigning innocence. "I had not realized."

"Did you not?" Thranduil said, softly. "I wonder." He raised his hand to Legolas's hair, cupping the side of his head, over an ear. "My son, my little leaf. I do not know what subtle poison they used, nor what magics they worked to wound you so, but they will hurt you no more. Indeed, they are lucky they did not wound you worse, or I would not have been so merciful."

Legolas felt his heart drop, and he pulled away. "Father, what did you do?"

Thranduil's eyebrows flew up. "Worry? Fear? The dwarf said they had done naught to you, but I knew better to believe his lies. Why else would you react so?" Thranduil moved, quicker than thought, and clasped Legolas to him. "Oh, that I still had them within my grasp! Tell me, what did they do to you? Why do you act so strangely?"

Legolas pulled free. "It is not I that act strangely, but you, father! Poison? Magic? These are not the words of my father and king, but the ravings of a madman!"