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Chapter Text

The Bonds of Friendship

“The friendship of a child is the brightest gem set upon the circlet of society, a jewel worth a world of pains – a jewel seldom seen.” – M Tupper

In the valley of Imladris the happy bursts of elvish laughter from the trees, mixed with the faint scent of spring flowers and the sound of flowing water from the river, drew a small sigh of relief from the tall, golden-haired Elf mounted upon a fine white stallion at the head of a small company of Woodland Elves. The journey from Northern Mirkwood over the mountain pass had not been without peril, for the Orcs that infested the Misty Mountains continued to multiply in number and had grown bolder in their attacks since that fateful day many years ago in the reckoning of men, but which to the Elves seemed but a brief passing of time, when tragedy had struck the house of Elrond. 

‘Hail! Lord Thranduil, King of the Northern Realm! Welcome to the Valley!’ 

Acknowledging the cheerful greeting from the young Elves that had descended from out of the trees bearing bright lanterns to meet him, Thranduil smiled. ‘Well, my merry ones, I see you are set for a night of revelry and mirth,’ he said warmly. 

‘Indeed, O King,’ they answered gaily. ‘Will you stay a while and sing with us? We have a feast all prepared over there where the wood-fires can be seen.’ 

‘Nay I thank you,’ the Elvenking replied with a laugh. ‘My business with Lord Elrond must take precedence over any merry-making. But, with your goodwill, I shall leave my companions in my stead for they have endured much on our travels and are in great need of a light-hearted jest and dance.’ 

The Elves’ agreement was swift in coming. ‘Many a fair song we will sing this night,’ they cried, ‘for too seldom do our kindred from the lands of Rhovanion come to visit! But shall we first lead you down to the bridge?’ 

Shaking his head, Thranduil politely refused. ‘For unless the way has greatly changed since last I journeyed through this valley I shall not require any assistance in finding the correct path,’ he replied. Then turning to the dark-haired Elf who rode alongside him, he said, ‘Tegalad, within the vale of Imladris you may relax your guard and remain here with the others.’ 

The young aide’s face brightened. ‘Thank you, My King,’ he said gratefully. ‘I must own that the stories I had heard of the hazards of the High Pass were certainly not exaggerated. I shall welcome the opportunity to rest and meet with my kin west of the mountain.’ 

So, with a last benign smile to the merry group of Elves who were now singing another cheerful song, Thranduil urged his mount forward and continued on alone. As the horse moved onward at a steady walking pace, the Elvenking’s head tilted back. His blue eyes gazing up at the bright stars in the heavens as their light shone upon his ageless face, Thranduil’s thoughts returned to the memory of his last journey to Imladris. The days had been grim with fierce winds blowing in from the south, but their bitter chill was as nothing to the hearts of the Elves who had responded to the desperate plea to aid in the search for Celebrían. 

When the air had first filled with the news that Elrond’s wife had been taken by Orcs as she travelled through the Redhorn Pass on her way to visit her kin in Lothlórien, the response had been immediate. Moving swiftly, Elves from Imladris, Lothlórien and Mirkwood, along with the Rangers of the North, had scoured through the treacherous paths and hidden caves of the Misty Mountains in search of her. Celebrían being the daughter of his kin, Lord Celeborn, and wife to one who was of King Thingol’s bloodline, Thranduil had not hesitated to lead the large company that had set out from Mirkwood. But in the end it was Celebrían’s two sons, Elladan and Elrohir, who had found their mother grievously tormented in both mind and body, and afflicted by a poisoned wound in an Orc den. As the two sons of Elrond hastened to rejoin their father and return to Imladris with Celebrían, the Elves under the leadership of Celeborn and Thranduil, along with the Rangers under the direction of their chieftain, Arahad the First, waged a bloody battle against the Orcs until the numbers of the foul creatures had been lessened considerably. They had then made their way to Imladris. 

Crossing over the bridge that led to the eastern entrance of the Last Homely House, Thranduil saw before him, as clearly as though the images had been summoned by the singing of Elf-minstrels, the sight that had greeted the arrival of the elven host led by himself and Celeborn that day: Elladan and Elrohir comforting their sister Arwen where she sat in bereaved silence beneath an ancient oak tree in their mother’s favourite garden, while about them a solemn stillness enveloped the remaining inhabitants of Imladris. Celebrían had survived her physical wounds, for Elrond had worked tirelessly to heal his wife’s body for many days, but her mind remained deeply afflicted and all Imladris shared the pain of watching the once joyful lady battle against the mental anguish that could not be healed. He himself had not remained overly long on that visit, a mere three months, before he felt the need to return to his own realm; but Celeborn, dismayed over his daughter’s sorrowful and tormented state, had not left until the day Celebrían had departed to take the ship to Valinor. 

Approaching the brightly lit entrance of the house, Thranduil found the images of the past abruptly dispelled as a burst of happy laughter preceded the appearance of a group of Elves from out of the doorway. Their countenances lit up with merry humour, the Elves all bowed upon seeing him. 

‘A fine meeting, O King!’ they called. ‘Tis the height of spring and the valley is filled with the scents of new life and feasting.’ 

His lips curled into an answering smile, Thranduil brought his mount to a halt, saying, ‘well met indeed, good people. Do you go to join the other revellers?’ 

‘We do, O King,’ the tallest amongst them replied, ‘for merry is May-time when the stars are in blossom and the moon is in flower. Will you join us?’ 

‘Not this night, I thank you,’ Thranduil answered. ‘But I have left all my escort with your friends in the valley. I am sure they would enjoy a fair song and dance in your company.’ 

‘It would be a pleasure to entertain them,’ the Elves said merrily. Then with many a happy laugh and cries of farewell they departed, leaving the Elvenking alone once more. 

Dismounting his horse with fluid grace, Thranduil moved to the stallion’s head. 

‘You have done well, Gîlroch,’ he murmured fondly, running a gentle hand down the horse’s silky white face as it nuzzled against him. ‘It has certainly been a long and weary journey for you.’ 

‘And for you also, my friend.’ 

Looking back towards the open doorway, Thranduil beheld the dark-haired Master of Imladris, his arms extended in greeting and a warm smile on his lips, making his way towards him. 

‘I bid thee welcome to Imladris, Thranduil.’ His grey eyes bright with the light of the stars, Elrond clasped a strong hand on his guest’s shoulder and looked up to meet Thranduil’s gaze. ‘And I thank you for making the journey.’ 

‘Upon receiving your message I must own my curiosity refused to be quelled,’ Thranduil confessed. ‘And your enigmatical words only served to heighten my concern for what could have prompted such secretiveness.’ 

‘I see your acuity remains undimmed, my friend,’ Elrond observed. ‘My embassage to you did arise from a matter of grave importance. But we cannot discuss it here in the open. Come away in and join us at table, for the evening feast is soon to commence and you must be in need of food and rest. We shall speak of the reason for my requesting your presence once my other guests are occupied in the Hall of Fire after the meal is ended.’ His eyes glancing towards the white horse that stood waiting patiently by the Elvenking, Elrond added, ‘as for your fine steed, I also bid him welcome and he will find comforts to his liking within our stables. Shall I have someone show him the way?’ 

Shaking his head, Thranduil ran a proud hand down his horse’s neck. ‘Gîlroch would consider that an insult,’ he said. ‘He prides himself on understanding directions. Tell him how to reach the stables and he will not require any further assistance.’ 

‘An admirable quality,’ Elrond remarked before walking forward to stand in front of the horse. ‘Gîlroch, follow the stone path on the far side of the gardens until you reach a small bridge. There will be two roads breaking off from the path. Take the right one and keep on it until you cross a shallow stream. Then turn left and you will find the stables a short distance down from where the branches of a large oak tree extend over the path. My people who oversee the stables will ensure you are comfortable.’ 

Lowering his proud head in thanks, Gîlroch whinnied gratefully then nudged his great nostrils against Thranduil’s shoulder with a playful snort. 

‘Yes I am sure there are those who would love to hear your adventures,’ Thranduil said, giving the horse’s mane a fond caress. ‘But remember, no mare likes a boastful hero. Be humble when regaling them with your tales. Now, off you go.’ 

Bestowing an affectionate puff of warm breath against the Elvenking’s neck, Gîlroch gently bumped his head against Thranduil’s golden hair one last time before setting off towards the garden in a dignified trot. 

‘He is a magnificent animal,’ Elrond commented as the two Elves watched the glistening white form depart. ‘How did you come by him? For there is clearly a noble strain within his bloodline.’ 

‘Of his lineage nothing can be known for certain,’ Thranduil admitted as they turned and made their way into the welcoming entrance of the Last Homely House east of the Sea. ‘A few summers ago my hunting party and I came across him when he was scarce more than a foal. He was caught within a thick tangle of webs spun by those accurst spiders near the edge of the forest. No trace was discovered of his family and we could only surmise they had either been killed or captured. I had thought he would bond with my son, for you know how gifted Legolas is with horses, but Gîlroch refused to respond to any voice save my own for many weeks – due, no doubt, to my having been the one to cut him loose from the webs. After some time had passed he began to listen to others, however, he continued to be inordinately attached to me and even to this day he has only ever consented to bearing Legolas and myself on his back.’ 

‘And where is your son?’ Elrond enquired. ‘Did you leave him to enjoy the feasting across the river?’ 

‘Legolas did not accompany me on the journey,’ Thranduil replied. ‘But he does send his greetings to you and to your children. Are they currently here with you?’ 

‘For many summers now Arwen has been residing in Lothlórien with her mother’s kin.’ His eyes filled with deeply felt pain, Elrond sighed. ‘After my wife departed for the Havens a great sadness lingered within Imladris and the merry laugh of my daughter was seldom heard. When the Lady Galadriel sought my leave to have Arwen visit Caras Galadhon I could not refuse, for within the city of the Galadhrim amidst the elanors golden blooms and the ancient mallorn-trees there lives only pleasant memories of Celebrían that can only ease my child’s grief.’ 

‘A pure and happy memory may certainly aid in alleviating a great sorrow,’ Thranduil agreed. ‘And what of Elladan and Elrohir?’

‘My sons are at present safe within the shelter of this valley.’ Turning his head, Elrond looked up at his friend. ‘They frequently ride out with the Dúnedain, tracking parties of Orcs that maraud through the lands. Indeed, the reason I requested your presence is due to something that befell the group on their last journey. But such serious matters must wait as they make for poor dining conversation. Come, let us join the others in the main hall where shortly you will enjoy the finest of meals and many a lively tale.’ 

The Elvenking paused. ‘Dare I enquire as to who will be providing these lively tales? For I recall you have oft entertained the most unusual of guests.’ 

‘Sheath your sharp tongue, my friend,’ Elrond chided lightly with a smile, ‘for there are none currently among my guests who can counter its keen edge, and I am much too gracious a host to engage you in a battle of wits your first night here.’ 

‘I take your words to mean that neither Mithrandir nor Glorfindel are counted amongst your visitors,’ Thranduil remarked, a hint of disappointment lacing his voice. 

‘Unfortunately they are not,’ Elrond admitted. ‘Mithrandir has not been seen since the last eve of autumn and Glorfindel is out upon errantry to the North.’ 

‘A pity,’ Thranduil said, his blue eyes twinkling with a hint of mirth. ‘For they could always be relied upon to provide intriguing topics for discussion and not shy away from a challenge.’ 

Elrond laughed. ‘Perhaps it is actually fortunate that they are not here,’ he reflected, ‘for I am much too pre-occupied to act as mediator between you when the conversation would turn too heated. You will have to be content with conversing to several men of the Dúnedain and with those of my people who have not joined the feast outside.’ 

‘Then in consideration of your current state of mind I shall endeavour to treat with them courteously,’ Thranduil promised.

Up next: Thranduil is told of the existence of a child who must be protected at all costs.

References:

Description of Imladris as found in The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2, Chapter 1 – Many Meetings: “Sam led him along several passages and down many steps and out into a high garden above the steep bank of the river. He found his friends sitting in a porch on the side of the house looking east. Shadows had fallen in the valley below, but there was still a light on the faces of the mountains far above. The air was warm. The sound of running and falling water was loud, and the evening was filled with a faint scent of trees and flowers….” 

Behaviour of the Elves who live in the valley of Imladris as described in the narrative of The Hobbit:

1. “So they laughed and sang in the trees; and pretty fair nonsense I daresay you think it. Not that they would care; they would only laugh all the more if you told them so. They were elves of course.” Chapter 3 – A Short Rest
2. “Bilbo heard the elves still singing in the trees, as if they had not stopped since he left…Then the elves of the valley came out and greeted them and led them across the water to the house of Elrond.” Chapter 19 – The Last Stage
3. “…many elves were singing loud and clear on the banks of the stream.” Chapter 19 – The Last Stage 

The main quotes that assisted with describing Thranduil’s eyes were:

1. “…but no sign of age was upon them, unless it were in the depths of their eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the wells of deep memory.” Narrative in The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2, Chapter 7 – The Mirror of Galadriel
2. “…for he saw the elven-light in her eyes and the wisdom of many days….” Description taken from Lord of the Rings, Appendix A (v) Here Follows a Part of the Tale of Aragorn & Arwen 

The tragic fate of Elrond’s wife, Celebrían, is noted in Lord of the Rings, Appendix A (iii) Eriador, Arnor, & the Heirs of Isildur. “In 2509 Celebrían wife of Elrond was journeying to Lórien when she was waylaid in the Redhorn Pass…she was seized and carried off. She was pursued and rescued by Elladan and Elrohir, but not before she had suffered torment and had received a poisoned wound. She was brought back to Imladris, and though healed in body by Elrond, lost all delight in Middle-earth, and the next year went to the Havens and passed over sea.” And also in the narrative of The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 2, Chapter 1 – Many Meetings, it says: “But her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, were out upon errantry: for they rode often far afield with the Rangers of the North, forgetting never their mother’s torment in the dens of the orcs.” 

Further details of the treatment of prisoners by their Orc-captors can be seen in The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 3 – The Uruk-Hai. 

On Thranduil’s horse understanding verbal commands I based this on the following two quotes:-

1. “Soon the other horses came up and stood quietly by, as if awaiting orders.” The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 5 – The White Rider
2. “But Legolas asked them to take off saddle and rein. ‘I need them not,’ he said, and leaped lightly up, and to their wonder Arod was tame and willing beneath him, moving here and there with but a spoken word: such was the elvish way with all good beasts.” The Two Towers, Book 3, Chapter 2 – The Riders of Rohan 

From Lord of the Rings, Appendix A (v) Here Follows a Part of the Tale of Aragorn & Arwen on why Aragorn did not meet Arwen until he was twenty years of age:

“I have heard no word of you. How comes it that we have never met before?” – Aragorn

“I have dwelt for a time in the land of my mother’s kin, in far Lothlórien. I have but lately returned to visit my father again. It is many years since I walked in Imladris.” – Arwen 

On my portrayal of Thranduil as being a rather wise Elf: “…but the Elves had greater wisdom, and skill, and beauty; and those who had dwelt in Valinor and looked upon the Powers as much surpassed the Dark Elves in these things as they in turn surpassed the people of mortal race. Only in the realm of Doriath, whose queen Melian was of the kindred of the Valar, did the Sindar come near to match the Calaquendi of the Blessed Realm.” Excerpt from The Silmarillion, Chapter 12 – Of Men 

On Thranduil’s attitude toward Glorfindel who was himself of the Noldor, but who had not participated in the kinslaying, I took inspiration from Thingol’s reaction to the news of the kinslaying when dealing with Finrod and Angrod (who also had not participated in the kinslaying). Thingol tells them: “Go now! For my heart is hot within me. Later you may return, if you will; for I will not shut my doors for ever against you, my kindred, that were ensnared in an evil that you did not aid. With Fingolfin and his people also I will keep friendship, for they have bitterly atoned for such ill as they did. And in our hatred of the Power that wrought all this woe our griefs shall be lost.” The Silmarillion, Chapter 15 – Of the Noldor in Beleriand

Chapter Text

The evening was far advanced with the night sky filled with the bright light of the stars when Thranduil seated himself within the small private chamber belonging to Elrond. The feast had passed merrily, with such food as to satisfy even the most hearty of appetites; and now both he and his host had taken leave of the company in the Hall of Fire, where the elvish minstrels could still be heard singing their songs of past glories and sorrow, to discuss in seclusion the matter that had prompted Elrond to summon him. 

‘I confess my curiosity can no longer remain unsatisfied,’ Thranduil announced bluntly. ‘Elrond, why did you send for me?’ 

His grey eyes now solemn and devoid of any mirth, the Master of Imladris slowly lowered himself onto his own chair as though a great weight rested upon him. And Thranduil, his concerned gaze fixed intently upon his friend, felt a wave of foreboding wash over him as a deep sigh preceded Elrond’s reply. 

‘Arathorn, son of Arador, has fallen.’ 

His eyes widening at the grave announcement, Thranduil’s expression turned grim as Elrond continued: ‘He accompanied my sons when they rode out to hunt a pack of Orcs that were terrorising some villages in the south. They succeeded in tracking them down, but sadly Arathorn was slain by an orc-arrow that pierced straight through his eye. He was killed outright with no chance of saving him.’ 

As Elrond’s voice fell silent a quiet pause descended upon the chamber. Then, his voice warm with compassion, Thranduil finally spoke. 

‘These are grievous tidings indeed,’ he said softly, ‘especially given so little time has passed since Arador was slain by the hill-trolls in the Coldfells. I join with you in mourning the death of another who was descended from your brother Elros’ line and who had proved himself a good and decent man. But I must own I am quite puzzled as to why you required my presence here to apprise me of the news; in the past you have always sent a messenger who would also advise of the name of the new Chieftain in the event they ever travelled through my realm or required my aid.’ 

‘You know the enemy has long held the desire to destroy any who belong to that bloodline in an attempt to prevent the restoration of the kingship of Men.’ At Thranduil’s nod, Elrond went on to reveal, ‘now their numbers are greatly diminished and within a very short time, a mere twenty one years in the reckoning of men, we have lost three generations of Isildur’s line: Argonui, son of Arathorn the First; Arador, son of Argonui; and now Arathorn the Second, son of Arador. At the time of their inheriting the title of Chieftain of the Dúnedain all were mature and hardened warriors, as were all those who came before them, so while danger threatened their lives there was the knowledge that they stood a fair chance of vanquishing it.’ 

Thranduil frowned. ‘And the current situation is different?’ he asked. 

‘It is.’ Looking directly at his guest, Elrond said quietly, ‘we know that Sauron has been actively seeking to discover the Heir of Isildur, who is now only a young child of two mortal years in age – a mere babe that would be defenceless against any attack initiated by the enemy. It is my intention to conceal the boy’s true name and lineage until such time as he has grown in wisdom and strength.’ 

‘And that is why you requested my presence here rather than send the name of the new Chieftain by messenger as you have in the past,’ Thranduil said solemnly, ‘you dared not take any risk of the information being discovered.’ 

‘Yes,’ Elrond affirmed with a nod. ‘Even the death of Arathorn has not been widely proclaimed in an attempt to conceal the truth for as long as possible. The Dúnedain are aware of the danger to the boy and so will also guard his identity. Arathorn’s widow, Gilraen, has brought her son here to Imladris; but to those who do not know the truth she will be known only as a bereaved wife who has lost her husband and seeks comfort within these halls.’ 

‘And what of the child?’ 

‘He too is to remain here under my protection,’ Elrond answered, ‘and I have bestowed upon him the name of Estel.’ 

An appreciative twinkle suddenly lit the Elvenking’s eyes and glancing at his friend he slightly quirked one eyebrow. ‘A rather befitting name,’ he observed with a brief smile. Then, his expression sobering once more, Thranduil asked, ‘am I to be informed of the child’s true name at this time?’ 

‘You will be one of the few outside of the Dúnedain to be told,’ Elrond replied, ‘for never have you hesitated to provide aid to those of my brother’s line when it was asked of you, and not once have you ever broken my trust since first we met in Lindon. I ask only that you not divulge the information to anyone – not even to your son.’ 

‘On my honour I give you my word I will speak of this to no one,’ Thranduil promised. ‘And there is no being in these lands who could draw the secret from me.’ 

‘Of that I have not the slightest doubt,’ Elrond said with a reminiscent smile, ‘for I have never known you to disclose anything against your will, my dear friend, no matter what method was used to question you.’ Then lowering his voice he confided, ‘the child’s true name is Aragorn.’ 

Thranduil sat in silence for a long moment, his ancient eyes shadowed. Finally he murmured, ‘it is a name that carries great responsibility and the little one is much too young to be so heavily burdened. Estel was a wise choice and will allow the child to develop the strength required to bear his rightful name when that time comes to pass.’ 

‘Which shall not be for some years,’ Elrond stated emphatically. ‘However, I am sure he will no doubt follow in his forefathers footsteps and seek to join my sons in their pursuit of raiding Orcs. The boy already shows a predilection for seeking out adventure and displays an extremely curious nature. I have come to dread the sound of his nurse’s cries for they normally herald another disappearance or minor disaster.’ 

A smile of pure amusement appeared on Thranduil’s face. ‘If I recall correctly both your sons and my own enjoyed behaving in a similar fashion,’ he said lightly, ‘but no harm ever befell them for they could never get far without being found. I am therefore sure that no misfortune will come to the child whilst he dwells in your home.’ Rising to his feet, the Elvenking’s robes rustled softly as he gave a slight bow. ‘Now with your leave, Elrond, as we have addressed the main purpose for my visit I will withdraw to the eastern garden. The journey was not without its perils and I would seek rest in the peaceful solitude.’ 

‘Be pleased to treat my home as your own,’ Elrond invited graciously as he too rose from his chair. ‘And you know you are always welcome within its halls. Will you make a long stay? For far too seldom do you make the journey hither from the east.’ 

‘Regretfully it must be a brief visit,’ Thranduil answered, ‘for I must return to my realm ere the last month of summer ends and the final days of spring are almost upon us.’ 

‘A short period to enjoy your company indeed,’ Elrond said as he made his way towards the door. ‘And scarce enough time in which to discuss everything I should wish, but it will be sufficient to hear your news of Legolas.’ 

‘You overestimate my ability to control my prideful boasting of him,’ Thranduil remarked humorously, his eyes alight with paternal affection. ‘Were I to stay several hundred years it would not provide the time it would require to adequately tell of his achievements.’ 

Laughing merrily, Elrond opened the door to allow his guest to depart. ‘I will not refute your ability to do that,’ he replied as Thranduil passed him, ‘for I know I am the same with my own children. Now go and enjoy the quiet of the garden, my friend, and I shall look to see you after the sun has risen. Good night.’

Up next: Thranduil encounters a very determined little escapee in the small hours of the morning. What is the child up to?

References:

“There was the sound, too, of elven-harps and of sweet music; and as it echoed up towards them it seemed that the chill of the air was warmed; and they caught faintly the fragrance of woodland flowers blossoming in spring.” Narrative in The Hobbit, Chapter 15 – The Gathering of the Clouds 

In reference to Thranduil providing aid to a Chieftain of the Dúnedain (descendants of Isildur’s line) or having one of them travel through his realm, in Unfinished Tales, Part 3: The Third Age, Chapter 1 – Disaster of the Gladden Fields, it describes how Isildur, his three sons and two hundred men were “passing the north borders of the Gladden Fields, marching along a path that led to Thranduil’s realm” when they were attacked. It later states that: “There were rescuers who came on the scene too late, but in time to disturb the Orcs and prevent their mutilation of the bodies: for there were certain Woodmen who got news to Thranduil by runners….” It seems clear that Thranduil was not above providing assistance when it was asked of him. 

“Aragorn was only two years old (born 1 March 2931) when Arathorn went riding against the Orcs with the sons of Elrond, and he was slain (2933)…Then Aragorn, being now Heir of Isildur, was taken with his mother (Gilraen) to dwell in the house of Elrond; and Elrond took the place of his father and came to love him as a son of his own. But he was called Estel, that is “Hope”, and his true name and lineage were kept secret at the bidding of Elrond; for the Wise then knew that the Enemy was seeking to discover the Heir of Isildur, if any remained upon earth.” On Aragorn and Elrond from Lord of the Rings, Appendix A (v) Here Follows a Part of the Tale of Aragorn & Arwen 

“2850 – Gandalf again enters Dol Guldur, and discovers that its master is indeed Sauron, who is gathering all the Rings and seeking for news of the One, and of Isildur’s Heir.” Lord of the Rings, Appendix B, The Tale of Years – The Third Age

Chapter Text

The eastern garden of Imladris lay shrouded in a peaceful stillness. In the distance could be heard the joyful sounds of the other inhabitants of Elrond’s home; but, in the midst of the blossoming flowers and tranquil paths of the garden, the quiet was broken only by the gentle flow of water in the stream and the rustling of leaves as a soft wind stirred the branches of the trees. In the sky above the silver light of the stars shone brilliantly across the dark stretch of night, even as a faint glow heralding the approaching dawn began to appear across the tops of the shadowy height of the Misty Mountains. 

Inhaling deeply, Thranduil lay still in the deepest corner of the garden on a soft bed of fresh grass, gazing up at the stars with eyes that reflected their brightness, his face serene and calm. Having passed many hours in silent meditation since parting company with Elrond, his entire being was fully rested. Now he took the opportunity to immerse himself in happy memories he rarely permitted himself to dwell upon: his wife’s joyous laugh and shining eyes as she danced merrily beneath the forest trees, sometimes held close in his arms and at other times holding their infant son to her heart while her voice sang out sweetly. 

Lost within the vivid images, Thranduil suddenly frowned when a faint sound immediately roused him to full awareness. Smoothly rising to his feet, the Elvenking glanced towards the nearest wall of the house where a window that he knew had previously been closed now lay open – with a small figure of a child nimbly climbing through it! As Thranduil watched, the little escapee, clothed only in a short white tunic and dark breeches, lowered themselves rather precariously until their feet dangled a short distance from the ground. Then they let go. The soft thud as the small body hit the ground was clearly audible to an Elf’s keen ears, as was the little one’s gasp of breath. 

His attention now firmly caught, Thranduil continued to observe the intrepid adventurer as they peered about cautiously before taking a few careful steps towards the garden, their smooth youthful face creased into an expression of determined resolve as they tried to move with silent stealth. As the tiny form entered the garden and slowly headed towards his location, the Elvenking smiled gently in amusement at their amateurish efforts to remain undetected; although, he would concede that it was an admirable attempt for one of their tender age. 

Keeping his presence concealed from his unexpected garden companion, Thranduil closely followed the small figure as they crept along the winding paths towards the gathering of trees that bordered the edge of the garden and which lay just beyond a shallow stream. His keen eyes sharpening at the possible hazard now confronting the little one, Thranduil watched vigilantly as they approached the cool water and paused. Then, evidently not deterred by the obstacle, the young night-wanderer’s shoulders straightened and without hesitation they proceeded to walk into the stream; a slight shiver the only sign of their discomfort as their bare feet splashed gently through the clear water until they eventually reached the other side. The Elvenking could only admire their determination as the distance across must surely have appeared quite formidable to them, given their small stature. 

Soundlessly entering the stream, Thranduil quietly made his own way across; his light footsteps not once betraying his approach to the dauntless little one who was now standing in silence and staring up at an ancient oak. Its impressive size towering over its neighbours, the lowest boughs of the tree stretched near to the ground like welcoming arms inviting visitors to climb its great height. An invitation that clearly was accepted as tiny hands attempted to reach up and grasp one sturdy branch without success. Not dissuaded by the failure, the small figure began walking underneath all the branches, their head tilted back as they examined each limb of the tree before striving to reach the ones closest to the ground – the single-minded persistence eliciting a brief smile from the Elvenking as he followed them around the oak at a discreet distance. 

Finally, as the light of the stars began to fade and the golden dawn slowly spread across the clear blue sky, the perfect branch was discovered. Hanging quite low to the ground, the bough was close enough for the young one’s hands to reach it quite easily. Their spontaneous cry of innocent delight sounding out merrily, the small adventurer eagerly tried to climb onto the branch of the great oak, although the enthusiastic attempt, along with each successive one, ended in the same manner – with the child taking a quick tumble onto the soft grass when their hands failed to find a secure holding. 

Admiring their unrelenting tenacity, Thranduil remained standing in watchful silence until he observed weariness bring a brief halt to the child’s efforts. Seated on the ground, the slightly breathless child stared determinedly up at the tree, completely oblivious to the quiet approach of the Elvenking. 

‘Good morning to you, little master.’ 

Startled, the young boy scrambled to his feet and turned about to face Thranduil’s tall form. Standing a short distance from him, the Elvenking stood brilliantly illuminated by the rising sun; his elvish features and robes helping allay any alarm his sudden presence had caused. 

‘Hullo.’ Seeming to recall his manners, the child gave a quaint bow. ‘You want to climb the tree too?’ 

Regarding the tousled dark brown curls and wide grey eyes staring guilelessly up at him, Thranduil smiled, for assuredly before him stood the new Chieftain of the Dúnedain. ‘Nay, I do not,’ he answered truthfully. 

‘But you’re an Elf.’ The statement was made with a hint of puzzlement. ‘Elves always climb trees.’ 

‘We do occasionally take a break from it,’ Thranduil remarked lightly. 

‘I saw them in the trees,’ the child confided. ‘I want to do it too.’ 

‘And so you shall, someday.’ Lowering himself down until he knelt on one knee, Thranduil gazed solemnly at the boy’s resolved expression. ‘A time will come when your arms, like those of the tree, have grown longer and gained in strength. When that day comes you will have the ability to climb the tree yourself.’ 

‘I want to go now,’ the child declared, his chin tilted stubbornly. Then, a delighted smile spreading across his face, he suggested excitedly, ‘you can take me!’ 

‘I rather think not,’ Thranduil said firmly. 

‘Oh.’ Disappointment once more clouded the child’s face. ‘Are you really old?’ 

His eyes twinkling with mirth, Thranduil laughed. ‘Indeed I am,’ he replied. ‘Far older than you could count. But I can still climb trees should I have a need or desire to do so. However, right now I believe it is time for you to return to your mother.’ 

Glancing back towards the giant oak, the child’s reluctance to depart was plain. Then, with an obedient nod, he turned back and walking forward held out his arms expectantly. 

The familiar gesture caught the Elvenking completely off-guard; the simple act of trust evoking a host of memories from his own child’s early years when Legolas would do it whilst crying gleefully “Up!” and then squealing in delight as he found himself lifted high above the ground into his father’s arms. Looking down into the wide grey eyes presently in front of him, Thranduil found he could not deny himself the experience of beholding such innocent joy once again. Gently gathering the child into his arms, Thranduil straightened to his full height and was rewarded instantly by the boy’s happy laughter as he found himself held so far above the ground. 

Eyes widening in excitement, the child’s small hands took a firm grip on Thranduil’s robes as his body twisted about eagerly; his head turning in all directions to see everything. 

‘Look!’ With all the enthusiasm of a great traveller discovering a new wonder, the new Chieftain of the Dúnedain suddenly pointed down to where he could now see the river with a number of Elves gathered along its banks – only to quickly lose interest in the sight when he spotted two red squirrels racing up the giant oak tree. 

In no hurry to bring an end to the child’s innocent pleasure, Thranduil patiently obeyed every one of the boy’s excited edicts to “Look!”; his lips curved into an indulgent smile as each merry laugh awoke another cherished memory of his son. 

Contemplating the happy child held securely against him, Thranduil’s expression grew pensive as he murmured, ‘Estel. Yes, the name does suit you, small one.’ 

Distracted by the close sound of the voice, Estel turned and instantly fixed his enraptured attention on the Elvenking’s long golden hair that was shining brightly in the morning sunlight. Reaching out without hesitation, he caressed the shimmering strands with awed interest before his face creased in a wide yawn. 

‘Your weariness is unsurprising given you were up betimes this morning,’ Thranduil observed, 'and undoubtedly after your little adventure you will be in much need of a small sleep before breakfast.’ 

‘No!’ Fierce grey eyes stared challengingly into calm blue ones. ‘No sleep!’ 

A distinctive sparkle in his eyes the only betrayal of his amusement at the boy’s vehement response, Thranduil merely nodded. ‘I beg pardon, little master,’ he said graciously, ‘of a certainty you are much too old to need such things.’ 

His young pride adequately placated, Estel smiled charmingly – even as he rubbed tiredly at his left eye. 

‘Indeed, why do we not wander around the gardens a while longer,’ Thranduil suggested, his lithe form walking lightly across the glistening, dew-scented grass. 

Apparently satisfied that the imminent threat of being put back to bed had vanished, Estel settled himself contentedly against Thranduil’s body and grasping a handful of the Elvenking’s golden hair proceeded to play with it. 

As the tiny fingers tangled themselves within the gleaming tresses, Thranduil felt a longing deep in his heart for the time when a young Legolas would rest his small body against him and his deft little hands would create intricate braids in the same golden hair. The days of watching his son innocently diverted by so simple a joy had passed all too swiftly and it had now been over two millennia since last he had felt another’s hands play with the only feature gifted to him by his Vanyarin mother. 

Another loud yawn from the small child in his arms abruptly put an end to the Elvenking’s reminiscing. Gazing down at Estel’s sleepy expression, Thranduil found him valiantly struggling against the desire to close his eyes and rest. Smoothly adjusting his hold around the boy, Thranduil settled him more comfortably before commencing a low humming of a gentle lullaby. 

Sensing the soft melody gradually lull the drowsy child into peaceful repose, the Elvenking smiled. It may have been swifter to just put the boy under an enchanted sleep, but he would have missed experiencing once again the calming grace that came from soothing a child to sleep. Also, he was fairly certain his friend, Elrond, would not be too pleased if he began casting enchantments (no matter how harmless!) on his charge. 

Satisfied that there was no imminent danger of Estel being roused from his slumber, Thranduil slowly made his way back across the shallow stream and down the garden path towards the house. As he drew nearer to the building a woman fair in countenance but clearly troubled exited quickly through a sidedoor, and following close behind her came Elrond, his expression stern with worry as he swiftly cast his eyes across the grounds. Calmly walking towards them, Thranduil knew the moment his friend had seen him with an unharmed Estel held securely in his arms, for the Master of Imladris instantly halted the woman’s movements with one gentle hand and murmured quietly, ‘he is found, Gilraen. Look.’ 

As relieved green eyes focused upon him the Elvenking continued forward, his unhurried pace conveying that there was no need for alarm over the boy’s unconscious state. 

Her long dress fluttering behind her in her haste, Gilraen ran forward to reach them. Raising a loving hand to her son’s head where it lay against Thranduil’s shoulder, she whispered gratefully, ‘bless you, Master Elf, for finding him. We had only just discovered his disappearance and had not thought to where he could be.’ 

‘Lady Gilraen, your son has fortunately come to no hurt,’ Thranduil said quietly, wisely refraining from saying where her son had been. ‘However, his little adventure has left him quite exhausted.’ 

Both Elrond and Gilraen gazed at the sleeping Estel who had his face tucked into Thranduil’s neck, while one small fist resting against the Elvenking’s heart clutched a handful of golden hair. At the sight Gilraen gave a gasp of dismay. 

‘Master Elf, I offer my apologies for my son’s overly familiar actions,’ she said contritely. As her fingers went to release the shimmering strands of hair from her son’s firm grip, Gilraen was startled when the Elf stepped back. 

‘Nay, do not disturb him.’ His strong hand maintaining its protective position on the child’s back, Thranduil explained, ‘it would be a most unreasonable fool who would take offence at so innocent a liberty. The little one is a mere infant, therefore any lapses in manner may be readily excused. Let him remain as he is for now.’ 

Observing his friend in silence, Elrond’s keen eyes glinted in understanding as he saw Thranduil’s normally rigid stance relaxed in a way it had not been since a young Legolas had used his tall father as a climbing post. Clearly his dear friend had found a measure of joy in holding a child in his arms once again, for his blue eyes were aglow with a smiling warmth. 

‘Come, my friends.’ Gesturing towards his home, Elrond bade his companions to follow him inside. ‘Breakfast will soon be made ready and our adventurous Estel appears to be in need of his bed. Thranduil, may I ask you to take him to his room? Gilraen can show you the way.’ 

As the son of Eärendil anticipated the Elvenking had no objection to the request. 

‘Thranduil!’ At Gilraen’s exclamation both Elves turned to look at her. ‘You are Thranduil, King of the Northern Realm of Mirkwood?’ At his slight nod Gilraen blushed, the colour a becoming pink rose in a face recently turned pale with heavy grief. ‘King Thranduil, pray excuse my informal address to you just now and please accept my apologies for any inconvenience caused to you by my son’s behaviour.’ 

‘My pardon is easily granted when you have done nothing that warrants you petitioning for it,’ Thranduil said politely. ‘And your son has been of no disturbance to myself. You have an extremely well-mannered child, Lady Gilraen.’ 

The boy in question suddenly chortled in his sleep, the happy sound accompanied by him burrowing closer against the warm body holding him. Then, a small sigh of contentment escaping his lips in a quiet puff of air, Estel tightened his grip around the golden hair in his hand. 

Looking upon the radiant strands now firmly captured, Elrond smiled. ‘You had best return him to his bed now, my friend,’ he said, ‘else you shall never loose yourself if his hold tightens any further. Afterward you are welcome to join me at table for breakfast.’ 

Thranduil bowed his head. ‘A gracious invitation that I would never refuse,’ he replied. 

Elrond turned to his other guest. ‘And you, Gilraen?’ he asked. 

‘I am honoured by the offer, Lord Elrond, but I shall remain with my son,’ the widow refused. 

Glancing at the peacefully sleeping child, Elrond said, ‘should he soon awaken then please consider the invitation reissued to you both.’ 

Gilraen graciously thanked him and then turned towards the house. Preparing to follow her departing form, Thranduil paused and in a quiet voice briefly informed his friend of the young Chieftain’s early morning window escape and walk to the ancient oak tree. ‘He has quite an indomitable spirit,’ he concluded. ‘A daunting prospect for a single nurse, especially when she lies asleep.’ 

His eyes suddenly twinkling with amusement, Elrond waved his friend away. ‘I hear your unspoken suggestion, Thranduil,’ he responded. ‘After hearing your tale I will ensure a discrete watch over the boy will be added during the night hours. And I do appreciate you keeping your own counsel until Gilraen was no longer present – the dear woman is already much beset by the loss of her husband and learning of her son’s night wanderings would only cause her further worry.’ Gazing across to where the lady had almost reached the house, he said, ‘now we had best call an end to our discussion until after you have safely returned the little one to his mother’s care. I shall await your arrival in the hall.’ 

Then the Master of Imladris watched in silence as the Elvenking walked slowly away, his strong arms bearing Gilraen’s small child with great tenderness. Although he knew his friend loved his only son unconditionally and would willingly sacrifice his own life to protect him, Elrond also knew how deeply the golden-haired Elf had desired more children before tragedy had struck and his wife had been torn from his side a few years after Legolas was born. Her sudden and violent death had inflicted immeasurable pain to Thranduil’s heart and left him alone with a single child to cherish. Having witnessed the warmth of his friend’s treatment towards the young Heir of Isildur, Elrond heavily suspected that the innocent boy had inadvertently roused Thranduil’s paternal nature. 

It is fortunate that my hunger is not severe, he thought, for I do not believe my friend will be in any haste to relinquish this chance to experience holding a small babe in his arms once again.  

And so, anticipating a lengthy delay before his guest would arrive at the hall for their morning repast, Elrond took a few moments to enjoy the pleasant atmosphere of the garden before leisurely making his way inside his home to await Thranduil’s return.

Up next: Breakfast is always a light-hearted affair in Imladris and Thranduil discovers this time will be no exception.

References:

I will quickly mention that the way I have written Aragorn as a child comes from my experience with my own brothers at that age (including them climbing out windows!), and more recently the son of my cousin who is the same age as Aragorn in this story. Incidentally, my cousin is the same height and build as Lee Pace, has blonde hair and blue eyes so you could say I had a living model for how Thranduil would look when interacting with a small child! :) 

“The Eldar paid special attention to the ‘twilight’ (in the northerly regions), chiefly as the times of star-fading and star-opening. They had many names for these periods, of which the most usual were tindómë and undómë; the former most often referred to the time near dawn, and undómë to the evening.” Lord of the Rings, Appendix D, The Calendars 

In recalling Legolas’ early childhood, Thranduil’s reaction as I have written it was inspired by the following quote: “The union of love is indeed to them (the Eldar) great delight and joy, and the ‘days of the children’, as they call them, remain in their memory as the most merry in life…” Morgoth’s Ring, Part 1, Ainulindalë, Laws & Customs Among the Eldar 

Also, I have given Thranduil a Vanyarian mother simply because most of the golden-haired Elves that Tolkien mentions by name always seem to have a Vanyarian ancestor (as the Vanyar were the ones endowed with golden hair). As there is a canon basis for inter-marriage between the three different kindreds of Eldar, and given that before the summons by the Valar to the Elves there appeared to be a significant timeframe that would allow for Oropher and his wife to have met, married and had a little baby Thranduil, I do not think it is completely out of the realm of possibility that Thranduil does indeed have the blood of the Vanyar flowing through his veins. :)

Chapter Text

The brightly lit hall of Elrond’s house rang with the sound of voices raised in conversation. Around a long table that ran the length of the room sat an odd assortment of folk: Elves for the most part arrayed in colourful raiment, but mingled amongst them were seated a few of the Rangers of the North, their bodies darkly-clad and their faces still bearing traces of their clan’s recent sorrow. At the head of the table, seated in a great chair upon the dais, was Elrond and to his right sat Thranduil. The Elvenking had only recently returned to his host and was regaling him with a more detailed description of Estel’s earlier escapade. Upon Thranduil describing the boy’s excitement when he had been lifted from the ground and Estel’s fascination with his hair, the Master of Imladris laughed. 

‘Thranduil, my friend,’ he said, ‘never before has he looked upon hair of such golden brilliance. The colour is rarely seen here on Middle Earth, even among we of the Eldar who remain! Also, you being the tallest of all the people to have held him, the experience would have undoubtedly thrilled his adventurous spirit. He has an inordinate fascination with being up in high places.’ 

‘Sounds like a young half-Elven lord I met long ago,’ Thranduil murmured against the rim of the goblet held to his lips. Abruptly he lowered his hand and directed a curious glance at his host. ‘If I am currently the only being with golden hair that he has seen and the tallest to have held him then that implies that he has not met Glorfindel.’ 

Elrond nodded. ‘He departed on his journey shortly before Gilraen and Estel arrived,’ he replied. Suddenly he smiled. ‘Do you know, after all this time I do not believe I could say which of you was the tallest!’ 

Thranduil quirked an eyebrow. ‘Unfortunate then that I shall be leaving before he returns and we can satisfy your curiosity,’ he remarked. ‘I will admit, however, that we are both shorter than your great-grandmother’s father – Elu Thingol.’ 

Casting him a mildly reproachful look, Elrond pointed out, ‘as he was accounted the tallest among both the Firstborn and the race of Men that information does not aid me in the slightest.’ Tilting his head to study his friend’s impressive stature, Elrond added, ‘I had oft thought you must have consumed ent-draught as a child.’ 

His eyes sparkling with mirth, Thranduil queried, ‘due to my height or my bark?’ 

The laughter his comment elicited rang out merrily through the hall; the sound adding to the pleasant conversations around the table that abruptly fell silent as a very young voice suddenly cried out in joy. 

As the occupants of the hall all stood and turned towards the door to look at the owner of the voice, the small figure of Estel tore away from his mother and hurried forward, his dark curls bouncing with every little step and his grey eyes widening with glee. 

‘Thandil!’ To the astonishment of everyone in the hall, the boy raced towards the Elvenking and lifting his arms ordered happily, ‘up!’ 

Dead silence filled the hall for all of a single short pause. Then the hush was broken by the warm sound of Elrond’s gentle laughter as his golden-haired friend acquiesced to Estel’s demand. 

‘You have assuredly won him over, my friend.’ 

As though to provide further proof supporting Elrond’s words, Estel bestowed a beatific smile upon Thranduil, his tiny hands clutching enthusiastically to the Elf’s robes, and cried, ‘Thandil eat with me!’ 

Her face flaming in embarrassment, Gilraen hurried forward with words of apology spilling from her lips. ‘My Lords, I crave your pardon. Pray excuse him, King Thranduil,’ she beseeched, ‘I did tell him of your name but had not thought he would address you so informally. If you return him to me we shall leave you to complete your meal in peace.’ 

Holding up one hand as his other firmly held Estel’s small body against his own, Thranduil said calmly, ‘on the contrary, Lady Gilraen, the child’s eagerness for my company is most flattering and a lack of formality may be expected in one so young. His presence does not trouble me and I am sure he will prove himself a most entertaining dining companion.’ 

Her expression uncertain, Gilraen looked towards Elrond who smiled and said, ‘we shall all enjoy his company, my dear child, and should you be afeard that my friend will know not how to assist Estel with his meal then let me assure you it will not be the first time he has performed such an act. Now come, sit by me and we shall all partake of this fine repast together.’ 

And so as a reassured Gilraen took her place at the table, the occupants of the hall were treated to a sight they had never expected to witness: a small human boy, happily eating a breakfast of poached eggs and thinly sliced ham, animatedly conversing with the great Elvenking of Mirkwood upon whose lap he was quite comfortably seated and whose face bore a smile of gentle good humour.

Up next: Tears and smiles mingle as Thranduil's visit to Imladris comes to an end.

References:

With the age difference between Thranduil and Elrond I have placed Thranduil as the eldest of the two Eldar. My reasoning is that to have been considered old (and wise) enough to establish a kingdom early in the Second Age he must have been living at the time Thingol ruled in Doriath. Thingol’s death occurred shortly before the birth of his great granddaughter Elwing who was mother to Elrond and Elros. According to Unfinished Tales, Part 2: The Second Age, III – The Line of Elros: Kings of Númenor, the date of birth given for Elros (and consequently his twin brother Elrond) is “fifty-eight years before the Second Age began”. In Lord of the Rings, Appendix B, The Tale of Years, The Second Age, it mentions that from Lindon (founded in S.A.1) “many of the Sindar passed eastward, and some established realms in the forests far away…Thranduil, king in the north of Greenland the Great, was one of these.” Added to this, from the same source it is noted that in “S.A.c.40 – Many dwarves leaving their old cities in Ered Luin go to Moria and swell its numbers.” When cross-referenced with: “In the Second Age their king, Oropher [the father of Thranduil…], had withdrawn northward beyond the Gladden Fields…to be free from the power and encroachments of the Dwarves of Moria” from Unfinished Tales, Part 4: The History of Galadriel & Celeborn, Appendix B, The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves, it seemed that, although Tolkien changed his mind about who the Elvenking of Greenwood the Great was at the time, the move of the Elves occurred quite early in the S.A. (Incidentally, Thranduil is the only king of Greenwood the Great mentioned in The Silmarillion, which Christopher Tolkien has identified as the earlier work). 

In The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 5 – Of Eldamar & the Princes of the Eldalië, the description of Elu Thingol is: “fair and noble as he had been, now he appeared as it were a lord of the Maiar, his hair as grey silver, tallest of all the Children of Ilúvatar…”

Chapter Text

Thranduil had been a guest in the House of Elrond for nigh on two months when the time came to pass for his departure. The days of his visit had swiftly come to an end but not a single one had passed without his company being sought out by a delighted Estel whose fascination with the Elvenking had not lessened in the slightest. Elrond had observed in deep amusement as his guest was granted the privilege of being the first person to be shown each new discovery Estel made in the garden or the house; but never by word or deed had Thranduil ever shown the faintest hint of reluctance to see the flower, frog, lizard, shiny stone or other item of particular interest that Estel wished to show him. Instead, the golden-haired Elf had patiently listened as the young boy described the discovery in minute detail and then gave it his full attention as it was shown to him. 

‘He will miss you,’ Elrond said quietly to his friend. The two Elves were standing at the eastern entrance to the house in the early hours of the morning, watching the merry scene of Estel shrieking with laughter as he ran to escape the group of Elves who playfully chased him through the gardens. 

‘His memory of me will quickly pass,’ Thranduil replied, a hint of regret briefly shrouding the light in his eyes. ‘In their youth the race of Men soon forget those they do not see for many years. I am sure when first Estel sees Glorfindel, should he soon return, the child may briefly remember me upon seeing a tall Elf with golden hair. But that remembrance of me will be short-lived.’ 

‘Perhaps,’ Elrond acknowledged, ‘though do not forget there is a remnant of elven blood within his veins which may assist him in retaining some memories of these early years.’ 

Another burst of laughter rang out and the two Elves observed in silence as Estel ran behind a stone bench, his face glowing with innocent mirth as he continued to flee his pursuers. 

‘If that should prove true then let us hope he is blessed with only recalling the happy ones,’ Thranduil answered as the sound of approaching hoofs heralded Gîlroch’s imminent arrival. 

When the glistening white horse appeared it was obvious when his presence was noticed by the young boy playing within the garden. A gleeful exclamation of ‘Thandil’s horsey!’ sounded out loudly and was soon followed by an ecstatic ‘Thandil! I come too!’ upon the child catching sight of the two Elves standing near the house. 

Recalling a particularly fine day when they had taken a small party down to the river and Estel had sat mounted atop Gîlroch with the Elvenking holding him securely from behind, Elrond said with a reminiscent smile, ‘take heed, Thranduil – you may find yourself riding pillion on your journey home.’ 

As the white stallion trotted up to his side, Thranduil retorted lightly, ‘I have no fear of that, for I know you will not be permitting the boy to leave the shelter of this valley for some time to come.’ 

‘Thandil!’ Estel’s excited voice forestalled any further conversation between the two Elves, especially as the child’s cry was immediately followed by his short body colliding against the Elvenking’s leg. ‘Thandil, I ride horsey again!’ 

Glancing down at the tiny form that had their small arms wrapped around his limb, Thranduil regretted the disappointment his answer was going to bring to the wide grey eyes staring up at him. ‘Not this time, little one,’ he said gently. Then reaching down to loosen the boy’s firm grip, he lifted Estel into his arms. ‘I must leave and shall be travelling a very long distance,’ he explained, ‘and you need to stay here with your mother and Lord Elrond.’ 

His fingers clutching at Thranduil’s dark green cloak, Estel’s bright expression dimmed as he asked tremulously, ‘Thandil go away?’ 

The Elvenking nodded solemnly. Tears instantly clouded the child’s eyes.

‘No!’ His voice suddenly turning frantic, Estel flung his arms around Thranduil’s neck and pleaded, ‘don’t go! Please, Thandil!’ 

Startled by the violent reaction, the golden-haired Elf looked at his friend who also looked rather surprised. 

‘Estel –’ 

‘Daddy didn’t come back!’ The sobbed words completely stunned Elrond and Thranduil for never before had the child mentioned his father. ‘Thandil stay!’ 

‘Gilraen said he has not mentioned his father since she told him he died,’ Elrond murmured quietly. ‘She believed he had not understood.’ 

‘It would appear he comprehended more than she thought,’ Thranduil answered. Then placing a comforting hand on Estel’s back as the boy cried into his neck, the Elvenking said softly, ‘come now, small one, let not our parting be filled with sadness. I cannot stay, Estel, but I give you my solemn word that you shall see me again – and Lord Elrond will tell you that I have never broken a promise I have made. And perhaps when I return you shall have grown enough to show me how well you can climb the great oak tree.’ 

The effect of these last words was immediate. His sobs transforming into watery gulps of air, Estel slowly raised his tearstained face, and looking intently at Thranduil he asked with a slight sniffle, ‘you’ll climb too?’ 

Ignoring Elrond’s badly concealed chuckle, Thranduil inclined his head. ‘If you wish it, little master,’ he said gravely, although a hint of mirth could be seen dancing in his eyes. 

His face now adorned by a bright smile, Estel launched himself forward and almost strangled the golden-haired Elf with a tight hug. Unfazed by the enthusiastic display of affection, Thranduil returned the embrace and then gently handed the boy into Elrond’s waiting arms. 

Upon gazing down at Estel’s face and perceiving a remnant of sorrow that still lingered deep within his eyes, Thranduil removed the cloak from around his shoulders and presented it to the child, saying, ‘ever may this gift remind you of our friendship, Estel, and let it also serve as a sign of my pledge that I will one day return to see you.’ 

His tiny fingers tightly gripping the dark green cloth, Estel held it close to his chest and asked, ‘it’s mine?’ 

At Thranduil’s nod, Estel’s eyes lit up and he declared, ‘me wear Thandil’s cloak!’ 

Their laughter sounding out merrily, both Elrond and Thranduil looked at the boy whose attention was now completely focused on examining his gift.

‘I shall endeavour to send you what news I can of him,’ Elrond murmured to his friend. ‘And I hope it shall not be too long ere we see both you and Legolas once more in Imladris.’ 

Thranduil sighed. ‘With the foul creatures that are constantly attempting to encroach upon my realm increasing in number I cannot say when that day will be,’ he admitted. 

Casting a commiserating glance at the Elvenking, Elrond offered sincerely, ‘I am sorry that Saruman overruled Gandalf when he urged an attack on Dol Guldur, especially given you have told me the shadow from that fell place continues to spread.’ 

His expression grim, Thranduil confessed, ‘I had hoped that the head of the White Council would heed the wisdom of Gandalf’s words, for my powers and that of my people are not sufficient to vanquish the evil that dwells within that dark fortress. The most we are able to do is maintain the borders of our realm and offer assistance to the Woodmen when they have need of it. It is unfortunate that Saruman believes that there is little cause for concern.’ 

‘When next Gandalf visits here I shall raise the matter with him again,’ Elrond promised. ‘Perhaps we may yet persuade Saruman to consent to an assault against it.’ 

‘May you be gifted with the words to persuade him,’ Thranduil said, and voiced his thanks. Then, after directing a courteous bow to his host, he declared he would join his company of Mirkwood Elves that awaited him across the bridge and commence his journey. ‘For I would seek to make it to the foot of the mountains this day in order that we may cross the High Pass tomorrow.’ 

Acknowledging the wisdom of this plan, Elrond bowed respectfully in return and said warmly, ‘farewell, Thranduil. I pray your journey home will be swift and free of misfortune, and may the mantle of Elbereth’s protection be upon you.’ 

A genial smile on his lips, the Elvenking responded in kind. ‘Fare thee well, Elrond,’ he said, ‘long may peace dwell within the valley of Imladris and upon all who dwell within its shelter.’ Then reaching forward he laid his hand gently on Estel’s head. ‘And to you, my little one,’ he added, ‘ever may Elbereth’s blessings be with you so that you may grow in wisdom and nobility,’ and bending slightly, he placed a light kiss on the child’s forehead. ‘Farewell, Estel.’ 

As the young voice of Isildur’s Heir called out his own goodbye, Thranduil leaped lightly up onto Gîlroch’s back. Then the Master of Imladris and the boy in his arms watched as the tall golden-haired Elf lifted his hand in a final gesture of farewell before urging his mount away. 

When the Elvenking could no longer be seen by Estel’s eyes, Elrond obeyed the boy’s request to be released. The moment his feet touched the ground, Estel lifted the heavy cloak in his hands and twisted about until it was draped around his shoulders – the long garment trailing behind him like a coronation robe. Then, standing erect with a quaint majestic tilt to his head, he announced proudly, ‘I’m King Thandil.’ 

Alas that Thranduil did not witness this, Elrond thought as he strove to stifle the merry laughter that rose to his lips at the child’s portrayal of the Elvenking. For I am certain he will be quite delighted Aragorn chose to imitate him. I must remember to mention it in my next letter to him. 

Then, his watchful grey eyes smiling with warmth as they gazed upon the child, Elrond followed closely after his little charge who was now attempting to walk with a regal deportment that bore a striking resemblance to Thranduil’s own graceful manner. 

Indeed, my dear friend, Elrond mused, you have undoubtedly made a deep impression that will not be speedily forgotten.

O * O

Riding at the head of his company as they wound their way up the long steep path that led out of the vale of Imladris, Thranduil did not once glance back to view the sight of his friend’s realm. But then, as he reached the high moor where a field of heather danced in the chill wind that blew across it, he paused; and urging Gîlroch to turnabout he looked down at the sight of the Last Homely House shining radiantly in the bright morning sunlight. 

A pang of sorrow pierced his heart as he contemplated that he would never again experience the joy of beholding the youthful innocence of Estel’s infancy. The small boy’s gaze of awe at each newly discovered wonder, and his unquenchable spirit of adventure, had created a pure collection of memories in a time when such things were becoming increasingly difficult to create. 

Elrond has certainly been blessed to have witnessed the joy of the early years of so many of his brother’s line, Thranduil reflected, although, such delight must surely increase the depths of his grief when the gift bestowed upon Men must eventually come unto them. The Elvenking’s thoughts then dwelt upon the knowledge that one day that fate would befall the happy child who had so eagerly sought his company during his visit. Let us hope his time lies far in the years to come. 

‘King Thranduil!’ 

The fair male voices drew Thranduil’s attention away from the sight below him to where a darkhaired Elf rode up hastily upon a great black stallion. An Elf who bore an exact likeness to the other rode beside him upon a dark-grey mare with a fine cloak of silver-blue cloth held in his hand. 

‘Elladan. Elrohir,’ Thranduil greeted them respectively with a polite bow of his head. 

The twin sons of Elrond inclined their heads in return before Elrohir urged his mount forward, saying, ‘our father requested that we deliver this to you. He bade us to ensure you did not have to pass through the fierce winds of the moor without it.’ 

Accepting the proffered cloak with a smile and placing it about his shoulders, Thranduil remarked, ‘Lord Elrond is kind in his generosity. Please convey my thanks to your father.’ 

‘We shall,’ Elladan replied, ‘and we wish you a safe and pleasant journey home, O King.’ 

‘And may we look to see you return ere too many summers pass,’ Elrohir inserted, ‘for Estel is bound to miss his favourite new hero.’ 

At the Elvenking’s quirked eyebrow the two Elves laughed. 

‘We have seen your effect upon him, even as we did leave to follow you this morning,’ Elladan declared. 

‘Indeed,’ Elrohir agreed. ‘Were it not for his dark hair we would have thought you still walked the halls of our father’s house after being struck with a strange enchantment that shortened your height, for the little one has taken to wearing your cloak and copying your manner.’ 

A warm feeling suffused Thranduil’s spirit as he heard these words. That the child would choose to mimic him bespoke a depth of admiration normally reserved for a much loved parent or a person perceived as being worthy of such note. 

Observing his reaction, Elladan and Elrohir smiled. 

‘You have assuredly won his regard,’ Elladan observed, before continuing with a teasing glint in eyes, ‘though, we are thankful he is too young to have learnt your oratory skill, else we could never hope to win a single debate with him in the future.’ 

‘I am sure you would have found a way,’ Thranduil retorted drily, his stern gaze belied by the faint smile on his lips. ‘For ne’er have I encountered a pair with more honeyed words that could so easily dispel the most reasonable of arguments.’ 

Laughing merrily, the two Elves bowed their heads. ‘Thou dost know us too well, King Thranduil,’ they cried, ‘and so we will yield to you and withdraw in defeat.’ 

His blue eyes now openly amused, Thranduil said warmly, ‘then farewell to you, Elladan and Elrohir, and ever may you bring joy to your father and to his house.’ 

‘Farewell, O King,’ they replied, ‘may the stars always shine upon you and all who dwell in your realm. To your son, Legolas, we send our greetings and should he have your good leave, inform him that we would be pleased to have him visit Imladris.’ 

‘He does and I will,’ Thranduil answered. ‘Farewell.’ 

As the sons of Elrond turned their mounts and descended down the steep path, Thranduil’s gaze returned to the elven home where now lived Aragorn, son of Arathorn – henceforth to be known only as Estel until such time as Elrond decreed otherwise. The twins’ revelation of the boy’s actions had served to irrevocably seal his affection for the child and Thranduil regretted that he was unable to be there to witness the outward display of Estel’s high regard for him. 

‘My King, shall I send forth the advance guard?’ 

Turning his head towards his aide, the Elvenking nodded. ‘And, Tegalad, inform them we will go no farther than the foot of the mountain this day. Once they are within a league’s distance of it they are to halt and find a suitable area in which we may make camp for the evening.’ 

‘Yes, My King.’ 

As Tegalad went to convey the order, Thranduil looked one final time at the Last Homely House as it lay twinkling in the valley below. And as he gazed upon it, he said in a voice scarce more than a mere whisper of breath, ‘though the shadow of the enemy increases and the days continue to darken, long may your innocence be preserved and your virtues strengthened. And until our next meeting, may the grace of Elbereth shine upon you, Estel, and the stars ever light your path. Farewell.’ 

Then, with his golden hair glinting in the bright sunlight as the wind played in its long strands, Thranduil turned his mount and set forth towards the east and home.

A/N: Thank you again for reading. It was certainly fun to write such an innocent and uncomplicated version of Aragorn! Also, I am sorry to bring this story to an end, but I suppose the old adage of "leave them wanting more" does have an element of sense to it! :) Hopefully you all enjoyed the last few glimpses you got of the friendship between Thranduil and Estel. Next week I'll post the first chapter of my last Tolkien story, A Tapestry of Love & Sorrow. It is the longest fanfic I've written in any fandom (approx. 81,600 words and spread across 22 chapters) so when I take a little extra time to post a chapter due to checking for any errors, etc, I'm sure you'll understand. ;) Until then, take care and be safe.

References:

Estel’s reaction to Thranduil’s leaving was based on certain reactions young children can have after they have experienced the death of someone close to them. Sometimes children can give every appearance of having not been adversely affected by the death of a loved one (my own very young siblings were outside playing happily under the garden hose the day after our father passed away!), but then they can have an extreme reaction when someone they have grown to care for is apparently also leaving them. And although definitely not part of Tolkien’s canon, I could not resist adding in the part where Thranduil makes a gift to Estel of his cloak to help comfort him. In Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, Book 1, Chapter 9 – At the Sign of the Prancing Pony, Aragorn/Strider is described as wearing a “travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth”. After re-reading that description the idea was born that the cloak worn by Aragorn was the same one I had Thranduil gift to him as a child. Unlikely in Tolkien’s official world? Most possibly. Highly sentimental? Definitely! But I love the idea anyway. :) 

I will admit that with Estel imitating Thranduil the inspiration came from my young goddaughter who would in my absence when she visited the place where I worked with her mother: put on my badge; sit at my desk to “type” things on the computer and answer the telephone – all the while insisting her mother and everyone else call her “Sarah”. I don’t think there are any words to properly describe the love and affection you feel towards a child who pays you the highest compliment of admiring you to that extent. 

“…for an age Ilúvatar sat alone in thought. Then he spoke and said: ‘Behold I love the Earth, which shall be a mansion for the Quendi and the Atani! But the Quendi shall be the fairest of all earthly creatures, and they shall have and shall conceive and bring forth more beauty than all my Children; and they shall have the greater bliss in this world. But to the Atani I will give a new gift.’ Therefore he willed that the hearts of Men should seek beyond the world and should find no rest therein…” quote referencing the gift of death to the race of Men from The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion, Chapter 1 – Of the Beginning of Days