Part Twenty-Three

Thranduil had slept ill this night. It had been near dawn when Elrond returned from chasing his daughter, and when Thranduil asked how he had fared, the Lord of Imladris had merely shaken his head and told Thranduil to go back to sleep. Now the sun was rising outside their talan, and he was still awake, while Elrond slumbered beside him.

How different his lover looked in sleep. All the lines of worry and wisdom and concern that haunted his brow during the day smoothed out as Elrond lay caught within his dreams. His dark hair spread over the pillow like a dark flag heralding triumph, soft, clean, exquisitely long. His lips nearly begged for tasting, and Thranduil felt his body reacting even with this casual observation.

But Elrond needed his rest and Thranduil would not rob him of it. Quietly he slipped from the bed and dressed himself. He would go to see Galadriel now, and resolve the mess that he had gotten Legolas into. In many ways, he blamed himself for leading Elrond into thinking that the marriage might really take place, when Thranduil had never truly, in his heart, thought that it might. He would not have forced Legolas into anything for the world. No, he loved his son too dearly for that.

He had done it first to keep Elrond irritated, but then to keep him in Mirkwood. As he had begun to lose his heart, Thranduil had grown more willing to use the proposed marriage as an excuse to keep the Imladris elf by his side. Yet, when they arrived in Lórien and Galadriel and Celeborn became involved, he realized that he should have put an end to this nonsense long ago.

He still had a score to settle with Celeborn, whom he had not seen in two days. He was livid that the Lord of Lórien had dared trap Legolas and threaten to rape him. There was also the matter of the sedative that had been slipped into Thranduil's drink. He was not entirely satisfied that justice had been served on that account.

Thranduil hurried down the stairs from their talan, checking with the Galadhrim guard at the foot of Galadriel's private stair, and was told that the Lady of Light had left for her morning bath. Thranduil debated what she would think if he invaded her privacy, then decided that the matter was grave enough.

Before he reached the waterfall, Thranduil saw Galadriel coming down the path, followed by Haldir. Both had wet hair, and Thranduil raised an eyebrow. He looked appraisingly at Haldir, wondering just how close he was to his mistress that they might be bathing together so early in the morning. Galadriel smiled genuinely when she saw Thranduil, as if she were very glad to see him. She came forward and planted a kiss on the king's cheek. Haldir stopped respectfully a few feet behind her and made the proper bow of greeting.

"Your mind is too full of suspicion, my Elvenking," Galadriel said in a light, amused tone. "Even if I would have my Marchwarden, he is far too much in love with your son to give himself to me, even at my command."

"I would that you would not delve into my private thoughts, Galadriel," Thranduil said gruffly even as he found himself admiring her inestimable beauty.

"They show in your eyes, and I cannot help it," Galadriel said unapologetically. "Your love for Legolas is a mighty force."

"Indeed it is. Gold and jewels I have a-plenty but Legolas is my only true treasure. I merely wish him the same happiness he has brought to me, even if it means letting him go."

"I know this, for I felt the same when I left Celebrían in Imladris with Elrond."

For a moment Thranduil did not reply. He knew Elrond's grief over losing his wife, and Galadriel's must match it. What on earth could he say to ease a pain that could never be lessened?

"Do not worry for my feelings, Thranduil," Galadriel replied softly. "I will be reunited with my daughter one day, as will Elrond."

He looked away from her when she spoke Elrond's name, not wanting to reveal his own love for the Lord of Imladris, but knowing as well that she already knew. It was so easy to forget that his lover was wed when they lay together. So easy to imagine that Elrond had never loved anyone but him. Finally he looked back at her, attempting to recall the reason he had sought her out.

"Please, my lady. Free my son from his obligation to Arwen. I will send you a great tribute if you do. Gold, jewels, wine, food from my own kitchens..."

"Thranduil, I do not require bribes."

"I meant it not as such!"

"But you did, my Elvenking."

"Then tell me what you would have in order to allow Legolas and Haldir their bond."

"I am taking Haldir to the mirror. You will come, too."

"The mirror..." Thranduil felt his breath catch in his throat. "I do not wish to look into your mirror, my lady."

"I will look," Haldir said fiercely. "She has promised me Legolas' freedom if I may look into her mirror and desire our bond still."

Thranduil looked over at Haldir. "You shame me, Haldir."

"That was not my intent, King Thranduil," Haldir replied softly.

"I know that it was not, and so I must agree to go with you."

Galadriel slipped her arm through Thranduil's and began to steer him through the trees, with Haldir following behind. Too soon for Thranduil's liking they reached the glade and she led him down the stairs to the unassuming stone basin. Galadriel let go of Thranduil's arm and positioned him at the side of the mirror. Haldir moved silently up beside him as Galadriel lifted her silver pitcher, smiling at them both.

"The paths of the future twist and turn. What you see here may or may not come to pass. It is simply the power of possibility, since we all shape our own destinies. I wish you to see what shadows lurk ahead, as well as what joys."

Galadriel turned and filled the pitcher with water. She poured the cool stream into the basin, and Thranduil found himself turning to stare into it against his will. He leaned forwards as colors began to swirl in front of his vision, and too soon he was unaware of either Haldir or Galadriel. He saw only the mirror.

Visions of Legolas. His son, his pride and joy. Legolas as a young elfling, running through the wood with his mother. His mother. Thranduil's heart ached. How many years had passed since he had seen her? Granted, Legolas held more resemblance to himself than he did to her, but he was still the product of a great love, a love as great as, if different from, the love he knew with Elrond now.

Darkness.

The night she had left them and gone to Valinor. Legolas' tears, his own anger. How broken they had been, how bitter... but they had gone on, and years had passed. Years passed in the mirror as well. Now he saw Legolas swimming naked in the river, desperate for a lover. He saw Haldir becoming that lover, taking his son's heart irrevocably. He smiled fondly, proud that his son had chosen such a strong, brave elf.

But the mirror had more to show. A long shadow fell over Middle-earth, creeping even into the realms of the elf lords. Thranduil saw the elves of Lórien withdrawing from the world, hiding in their Golden Wood from the rest of the world. He saw Elrond calling for a council, opening his doors to elves, men, dwarves, and wizards alike.

What was this darkness?

And there was Legolas, marching off into the darkness with companions whose faces were veiled to the Elvenking. Legolas going on a journey to save Middle-earth, one from which there was little hope of returning. He saw Haldir leading a mighty army into a hopeless battle. He wore a red cloak, blowing in the windy, rainy night.

Red, swirling and obscuring the mirror...filling it entirely, until it seemed to be a pool of blood.