Laer o Faen

Le U-Erui

Third Age of Middle Earth – 2840

Adisto, le u-erui

"You did well today."

Thranduil swept into the dressing area adjacent to the armoury as what had been a long day finally came to a close. He waited while Legolas changed out of his armour and into more comfortable robes, but the sight of his son in his finery did little to calm the unsettled emotions that had burned inside of Thranduil since the capture of the young Elf earlier that day, and the echoes she had awoken within him. He turned and began to mount the small stair out of the chamber that led through one of the many inner conservatories, carefully tended within the Halls

"Walk with me," he commanded softly.

He had received the report from his master at arms concerning both Legolas' and Captain Tauriel's patrols, and their efforts in clearing the woodland of the ever increasing presence of Orcs and other creature by far more foul, and had been beside Legolas the day before, fighting as one, father and son united, and he wanted to Legolas to know that he was proud of him.

Yet, there was another reason he wished to talk with his son, though judging from the expression on Legolas' face as he fell into step beside his father, talk of his intended, albeit brief, departure would have to wait.

"You do not agree," he as much stated as asked.

"There are more than just Orcs within our borders," Legolas said. "Close. Too close."

Thranduil's unsettled feeling surged, but he would not allow the emotion to show on his face. Sooner or later he was going to have to share his thoughts and feelings with Legolas, but not before he was more settled with what those feelings might mean, for all of them. Still, he was curious to learn what it was that Legolas meant.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Yesterday. I thought I felt something," his son said, "in the trees by the River Gate, but when I looked I could see nothing, and then the feeling was gone."

Thranduil considered Legolas' words, and in the light of what the day had brought to his Halls, the king could only assume that Legolas was speaking of Nieniriathlim, a fact that his son confirmed only a moment later, as he added, "And today, I learn that a prisoner was taken, an Elf attempting to penetrate our defences?"

"Not a prisoner," he corrected Legolas, matter of fact, "a guest."

As he spoke the words he felt a tightening in his chest. If he was right... if his hopes were proven founded, what then? How would he tell his son? With a deep breath, he tried to still his mind and added, "For now."

"Ada?"

Legolas' soft query brought him out of his thoughtfulness, and with a wave of his hand both to dismiss the question, and to command his own emotions, he began to walk slowly toward the pathway leading to the Royal Apartments, wherein lay his own, and Legolas' private chambers.

"The day has been long," he answered, "and has brought many questions best served by careful thought and rest."

He turned his head as he suspected Legolas about to argue, but his son simply nodded, and he felt the acceptance of his wisdom, then together the two walked in silence until they reached the small platform where they would part ways. They came to a halt then, almost in the same moment, and Thranduil realised that he had not yet divulged his intention to ride to Imladris, even though much remained unsettled there in his realm.

He sighed softly.

He needed to rest, to examine what he knew; to set all straight within his mind, before he could leave. The matter of Esgaroth's apparent betrayal of their standing arrangement troubled him. It could not be coincidence that so many things had come at once. In his experience, such things were always the herald of some approaching ill.