guiding light // thranduil & legolas

[ six ]

LEGOLAS

The night was almost peeking from the sky, the yellow bright rays of the sun fading, turning the vast space the color of autumn. From my father's own balcony, I watched the sun set; I watched as the winds carried the soft tunes of my people as they yet greet the moon, beautiful as she always was.

It had been another tough day for me - I am pretty sure the crease on my forehead remain plastered on my face the whole day, with the insistent demands of the council, the threats on borders (honestly though, do these orcs have anything better to do? The ring had been destroyed - their outrage is pointless.) , the delayed imports from Dale - and then there is Mithrandir's letter.

Never had it occurred to me that someday I would become a father - I have destroyed the thoughts of having a family of my own as soon as the elleth whom I chose to love had not returned my feelings back (I did appreciate her friendship - Tauriel is always, and had always been my best friend of all). So why would the White Wizard assume that I would adopt Luna? For one, I have no experience in taking care a child, much less an infant. I have seen one, yes, but carry one on my arms? Feed one? Change her soiled clothes?

I was made to fight, to win wars - fatherhood is not the kind of responsibility, or skill, one would associate me with. And yet Mithrandir, the wise being he is, had gone out of his way and bestowed upon me the honor of taking care of Middle Earth's salvation, Luna. Was I ready? I do not even know if I could take care of myself, much less the kingdom - I have Finroth and Tauriel for guidance, and still I do not know if I could be independent like my father. Why would Mithrandir add another duty on my shoulders?

A short rapid knock came to my father's door, and with a soft I sigh, I left the balcony and answered it. Finroth frowned upon the begging question painted on my face, worry over worry layering on his age defying face.

"My lord," he greeted, "Dinner will be served in a few moments."

"Thank you, Lord Finroth. I will join you as soon as I finish freshening up."

He nodded, but he remained looking at me, his eyes gazing over mine. "Do you mind if I ask you a question, my prince?" I shrugged.

"I have observed that you have not been yourself today. Most often you have your eyes fixed on the council, but today they wandered outside, or at the goblet you have been holding. You rarely raise your voice on Tauriel, but today you did. You often speak your mind in front of the council, but today no words came out of your mouth. You also walked slower this time, every step heavy on your feet. Is there something wrong, Legolas? Are you fine?"

I smiled weakly. There is no point in lying in front of Finroth - if I want to maintain the order and peace here in my father's kingdom, I might as well trust his advisor, as he is also mine. "Carmen explained to me Mithrandir's letter. It turns out, he wants me to adopt the young child."

"Come to think of it, you have started looking ill as soon as you returned from her chambers," he stretched out a hand to direct me to the living room where a hearth stood, rows of books filling the walls and armchairs positioned near it. We sat in front of each other, the hearth between us. "What is the matter then? Do you not trust yourself that you could handle the responsibility well?"

"I have never seen myself as a father is all," I explained, my sight directed to my curled hands. "I have lived long years, but still I yearn for my father's love and guidance. How can I give her something I still need myself? I do not want her to be lost, to feel incomplete for I lack things she should have."

He consider this for a moment, a finger right on his lips, his brows furrowed. I watched the fire crack, the heat a warm welcome for the cold summer's night. Finally, he lifted his head and said, "When you were conceived and your mother had told him of the news, Thranduil pretty much ran to my chambers and knocked rapidly like he needed saving. I opened it, and saw a him standing, towering over me, his head bent, his hands shaking. The first words that came out of his mouth was, 'I am afraid.' I asked him what he was afraid of, and he said fatherhood. I am baffled myself, to be honest, of that term. I have not had a chance of a family of my own, the closest thing I have for a family are yours - and so I do not know what to tell him but to trust his instincts. It will all come, I said. But it was not enough.