Author: Sivan Shemesh
Title: Week Without Thranduil
Theme: bunny hutch
Elements: 12. Third or Fourth age, Legolas, King for a Week... this really did not go/turn out to be quite the lesson Thranduil had planned for his son; Legolas did not learn precisely what his ada had intended for him to learn, and he was not the only one getting schooled (humor or squish or drama, depending on what the author imagines) (cascadewater)
Warning: AU, what-if? Humor/Angst, Drama, family & friendship.
Summary: Thranduil figured that, after the war, it was time for Legolas to take on some responsibilities and assume his position as king for a week until his return from Imladris. Little did Thranduil know what a mess his son could create... evil grin...
Thranduil was sure he had made a terrible mistake, but it was too late to fix it. What was done was done, and he now had to do what little he could to change things.
Legolas was standing near the chair that he sat in for almost a week, not knowing how his father would take all the changes he had ordered in his homeland. At least he had made them with good intentions.
Thranduil observed his son, and noticed the guests that were nearby, his hands on his weapons, ready to strike anyone who would harm his son.
The king smiled. Legolas had indeed reached over and built those bridges he had not dared attempt. For one, he had now forged an alliance between them and the dwarves.
"Is there anything that I should be worried about?" Thranduil asked his son.
"I do not think so, adar," Legolas replied with a sigh, and then he turned to ask his father, "May I go now? I have guests waiting for me."
Thranduil nodded, noticing the tiredness that colored his son, noticing the pale, worn face. Legolas was growing weary but he commanded a regal air and Thranduil was never more proud of him.
Thranduil turned to see the grin on Galdor's face.
"What is it, my friend?" Thranduil asked, somewhat suspicious.
"How should I address you?" Galdor asked.
"As a king, and Legolas as a prince," Thranduil replied and then he asked his guard, "Why are you asking me this?"
"Well, as you will see, Your Majesty, while you were gone, your son did a fair bit of changing, some of which you might like – and others that you might not," Galdor sighed heavily and then he corrected himself, "Or perhaps, I should inform you that, knowing you, you might not like mostof it."
Not only did Thranduil not like surprises, he did not like change as well, but that was understandable considering his past. His father had gone to war and had never come back, forcing him to grow up quickly as a king, such that he would never know how to be an ordinary elf.
"Galdor, you had better tell me what he has done to my homeland, before I send you to replace the guards at the border," Thranduil warned his friend and guard.
"Well, if you remember that you asked for it," Galdor teased him.
"Galdor..." Thranduil warned him with a glare.
"Well, I would advise you to look at the garden first, and then move to the memory tree." With that, the guard excused himself and left.
'Garden? Where? I did not seem to have seen any garden…' Thranduil thought. Neither did he know what memory tree the guard was speaking of.
The king left the room, and sensing the presence of his two guards following, he walked down the hallway toward the entrance. He could feel the fresh breeze as the wind embraced him and the birds sang for him. He was home.
He walked down the path, cheered by the beauty before him, and only then did he notice the tree.
Thranduil walked toward the memory tree. The sight was breath taking, and he knew that he ought to keep the garden and the memory tree hidden; he could not bear to risk it being destroyed.
His son had apparently done an amazing job, not only keeping the memory of his naneth in his heart, but bringing it with nature, to remember her face forever as well.
Thranduil smiled, now understanding why the elves had called it 'Memory Tree'. It bore her beautiful face, there on the tree. Legolas had only hurt the tree to show his mother within it, there to look at him, to be proud of him. She would be there for him, in those times when he needed her most; he could walk toward her anytime.
Thranduil tore his eyes away from it. The flowers were in full bloom, and he knew all the hard work that must have had gone into the garden. Thranduil did not remember seeing such a sight before he had left just a week ago. He never felt more alive, and that was to the credit of his son.
A tear left the king's eye, and he quickly wiped it off.
Never would he destroy any of this; he would guard these treasures close to home, and he would let his son know how much he adored what he had done.
Now he just had to hope that his son's other changes would not cause him any grief.