Part Thirty-Three

"It is difficult to believe we have made so little progress," said Lord Elrond. They stopped walking through the corridor of Mirkwood Palace just in front of the entrance to the lower dungeons. "I am sorry, Thranduil."

Thranduil looked at his lover intensely. He would never have admitted how much it meant to him to have Elrond by his side during this trial. Legolas was the Elvenking's world. If he were found injured, or not found at all… well, Thranduil did not trust to his own strength to handle the situation.

He wondered if he had not fallen a little bit in love with the Lord of Imladris. They were well-matched. Elrond was one of the few elves in all Middle-earth with whom Thranduil could have an intelligent conversation, never mind a nice, rousing argument. Thranduil had to admit to himself that he had often gone out of his way to pique Elrond just to achieve that end.

It would not be so bad to have Legolas wed to Arwen, Thranduil reflected. It would certainly be better than having Legolas missing. Perhaps the two of them would suit as well as their fathers did. Arwen was a beautiful maiden, and Thranduil had always been fond of her. Still, he would not force his son into anything.

Had it been a mistake to push Legolas and Haldir together? The two of them had certainly become excessively fond of each other. Haldir was known for being icy, cold and dignified, but Thranduil saw tenderness in his expression when he looked at the young Prince. Haldir would give his life for Legolas. Thranduil only hoped that this would not happen literally.

Legolas had needed someone to cherish him, to be tender with him for his first lover. Haldir had seemed a perfect choice for many reasons. The elves of Mirkwood dared not touch their Prince, and Legolas had been becoming almost embarrassingly eager. Thranduil could not blame him, for he had been near to withering on the vine. He had reached his maturity some time ago and should have had many lovers by now. When Thranduil was his age, he had mowed through half of his father's people. Legolas was bold, but not forceful.

Haldir had taken the King's son in hand and given him what he needed. The affection between them was quite natural. Thranduil knew, however, that at the end of the season Haldir would go back to Lothlórien and become Galadriel's Marchwarden. If Legolas wanted to travel to Lórien to be with his love, Thranduil would let him. And yet, that would make Elrond truly angry with him. Thranduil would lose what he had come to need himself.

However, if he used his influence to convince his son to accept the match with Arwen, Elrond would leave for Valinor, and Thranduil would lose him that way. It was a Catch 22 situation that tore him apart inside. He smiled faintly, sadly, at Elrond and lifted a hand to the sculpted cheek of the Lord of Imladris. Thranduil drank in the sight of that slightly angular face, the arched black eyebrows, the firm set of Elrond's mouth and the grey eyes that pierced him like an arrow to the heart.

"We will find him," Thranduil said determinedly. For him there was no other avenue. "I have every elf here looking for him. I only would there was a way to awaken Haldir. He may know something."

"He will recover in a few days," said Elrond.

"I cannot bear the thought of Legolas suffering for a few days. Is there no way to break the spell sooner?"

"It is not a spell, Thranduil, it is a poison. It is completely--"

"Yes, yes, I know. A poison is physical, a spell is a trick upon the mind."

"Not just the mind. A spell can encompass--"

"Really, Elrond, I have no desire to debate theories of magic with you just now."

"Simply because you realize I know far more about it than you ever will," Elrond snapped, his eyes flashing. Inwardly, Thranduil smiled to himself, but he kept his expression callous.

"Only because you spend far too much time in the company of wizards."

"Some of the finest folk I know are wizards!"

"Yes, Radagast the Brown is a favorite of yours, no? I remember how he set your robe on fire at that banquet to celebrate the first night of summer. You were nearly naked by the time Arwen thought to toss the punch bowl at you. I can still recall the smell of singed hair and fruit."

Elrond scowled. "Thank you for reminding me of that humiliating event."

"And there was the time that Gandalf showed your wife a fine trick involving his hat--"

"Thranduil! That is enough!"

Thranduil threw his tawny head back and laughed. He laughed until tears ran out of his eyes. Elrond stood there, shaking his head. Finally the laughter subsided and Thranduil wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He had needed this moment to break the tension, even if it came at Elrond's expense. He wished he could drag the Lord of Imladris back to bed, to make love until his troubles were forgotten.

"Forgive me, Elrond…"

Elrond nodded. "There is a way to induce Haldir's recovery sooner, but it is very dangerous."

Thranduil looked at him soberly. "How dangerous?"

"I do not believe his life would be at risk, but it may cause him to be more ill than if the poison is allowed to naturally leave his system."

"I would not do anything to endanger his life," Thranduil said, "Yet if he has some knowledge that might save Legolas, then is it not worth the risk, the illness? I think Haldir would want us to make the attempt."

"Perhaps. We should consult with his brothers and give the decision to them. They are his nearest kin."

"And Legolas is mine," Thranduil said passionately. "I will have him back, and whoever has done this to him will pay."

"The Prince has not yet been recovered?" asked Lord Glorfindel, slipping up behind them. It took all of Thranduil's nerves not to jump at the unexpected voice. He turned around to face the War Councilor of Imladris.

"No," said the King.

Glorfindel frowned. He was a strange elf, Thranduil thought. Ancient and beautiful, but he had never been quite right since that incident with the Balrog. He had long wavy blond hair that nearly rivaled Thranduil's, though it was lighter in color. His eyes were wide, round and blue, his face cherubic, though it could twist nastily when he was in the midst of a battle. He loved battles, Thranduil knew. He had been most at home fighting the giant spiders last week. He had occupied most of the dinner conversations with long, garish descriptions of the best way to slay orcs.

"King Thranduil asked you to search the dungeons, Glorfindel," Elrond said. "You did so, I imagine."

"I switched with Saelbeth. Has he not brought you any report?"

"No, he has not," Thranduil said. Saelbeth! Saelbeth had been acting oddly lately himself. Thranduil knew the guard was jealous of Haldir's bond with Legolas. Thranduil had not pitied him in this as he had felt that Saelbeth had had ample opportunity to make his own bond with the Prince. If he had been too afraid to do so, then he did not deserve the affection of Legolas.

Glorfindel shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking pensive. "Leave this to me, my lords. I will search the dungeons myself, right now. I shall meet with you in the Great Hall in a few minutes."

The War Councilor turned and disappeared down the steps into the dungeon. Elrond shook his head, then took Thranduil's arm.

"Let us go instead to Haldir. I will see if his brothers will agree to attempt to waken him."

"I am tempted to go into the dungeons myself… or perhaps to seek out Saelbeth."

Thranduil was torn. He did not know which path would lead him fastest to his son.