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"I need a someone to go down to the West Front and check on the progress there!" Bard called out as he entered a gathering of several men who were standing around a campfire.
One of the elves who were there, of which there were four, popped his golden haired head up, and stepped forward.
"I will go, Dragonslayer," he said in his smooth voice. The other three elves exchanged nervous glances, but the one who had stepped forward ignored them, if he had seen them.
"Thank you, Captain Legolas," Bard said. He had met many captains over the last few days since the battle. Many dwarves, men, and elves. Legolas, however, was easy to recognize by his golden hair. Bard was curious as to why most of the other elves had dark hair, while Legolas did not, but knew that the aftermath of the battle was not the best time to talk about hair colouring.
Legolas was beginning to step forward to go to the western side of the large camp spread out at the base of the mountain, when he was stopped by a commanding voice.
"You shall do no such thing!" Another elf stepped forward, striding purposefully across to the gathered group. The three original elves at the campfire all bowed, followed closely by the rest of the group, including Bard, who recognized King Thranduil of the elves.
Bard had not spoken much with the elven king, but he did recognize him. Thranduil had such a stately air about him that it was almost impossible not to recognize him, even in just a normal tunic like everyone else, rather than his usual elaborate robes.
Legolas, already having been a few feet away when Thranduil appeared, was the last to turn around and bow. "My King," he greeted, still bowing. After a few seconds he stood straight once again, but his face was impassive.
If Bard had looked more closely, he might have noticed the tenseness about Legolas's shoulders. As it was, he was too busy worrying about what had upset the elven king so much about Legolas going. As far as he could tell, Thranduil should have had no reason to object. He certainly hadn't had reason to complain all the other times elves had gone off to do a job, even by request of Bard.
"Captain Legolas," King Thranduil said, his face set in stone, it seemed, for he masked his emotions well, "I suggest you leave this task to someone else, for you will not be doing it."
One of the elves, a female, stepped forward and put her fist to her chest in a sort of salute. "I will do it, My King," she addressed Thranduil, glancing at Legolas for a moment, before looking back to her king.
"No," Legolas said. "King Thranduil," he took a step forward, but his face still did not reveal much, "why does anyone else need to go? I can perform the task. What else would you have me do?"
"Sleep," Thranduil almost growled. "You have not slept in the three days since the battle."
Bard almost gasped in surprise, the idea of going days without sleep, and the days after a battle, no less, was alien to him. The other elves did not show much surprise, but they did show concern and exchanged anxious glances.
"I am still fit for duty," Legolas replied, seeming unfazed by the king. Bard had noticed that the blond elf was stubborn, but he had not realized that he would go so far as to refuse his king.
"Draw your weapon and attack me," Thranduil said impassively, the only change in his face was a furrowing of his brows.
Bard glanced anxiously between the two blond elves, recognizing the challenge for what it was. He did not know the way of elves, but he could tell from the faces of the other elves that this was not normal.
When the Elvenking had first arrived, most of the dwarves had moved away, as well as some of the humans. There were only a few left, but they looked almost eager at the promise of a fight between the two elves.
Legolas hesitated for a moment, but then set his jaw, and drew his twin blades. Bard had seen him in action a few times throughout the battle, and knew that he was very skilled with them, and quick. He hoped they both knew what they were doing.
"Come!" Thranduil snapped out, not changing his stance or drawing his weapons. He only stared at the captain, standing seven meters away.
Legolas, in the blink of an eye, went from standing still, to charging silently and swiftly across the uneven ground, quickly closing the space between himself and his king.
Bard snapped his head around to where it had been looking at Legolas a second before, to where he was that one second later. The blond captain drew back his knives for a strike, but within a second, King Thranduil had reached out, his hands a blur of movement, and disarmed Legolas, claiming his weapons for himself.
"Sloppy, and slow," Thranduil said, staring down at the knives he had acquired. "I thought you were trained better. Either I was wrong, or you are exhausted. Too exhausted to fight if any skirmish comes upon you by surprise. On a battlefield, you have to be prepared. Go to your tent, and sleep!"
"I am a captain, I don't have time to sleep." Legolas was still arguing.
"You're not just a captain, Legolas!" Thranduil said, raising his voice. He, however, sounded more desperate than angry.
"I am right now. When we step into a battle, all other titles are abandoned. On the battlefield, I am a captain, and no more," Legolas said slowly.
"The battle is over, Legolas, and you need to rest. Every other captain has rested, I'm sure. Why will you not?"
"How do you know that I have not?" Legolas asked evasively. Bard considered stepping in, but knew that he had no place to. Thranduil was Legolas's king, and Bard was merely the commander of the humans. What he could do, however, was make sure someone completed the so argued about task.
He stepped over to the female elf who had volunteered before. "You may as well go to the West Front now," he said. "This could take a while."
With a wry smile, she nodded her head and set off, completely unnoticed by the two blond elves who were arguing. Bard gestured to the other watchers, the ones who were not elves, to leave, which they did reluctantly. However, they were comforted by the thought of all the eager listeners they would have when they told their tale of the face off between the Elvenking and one of his captains.
All that was left in the area were Thranduil, Legolas, Bard, and the other two elves, who had not left yet. Any others who would have come to gather around the campfire normally, were repelled by the noises of the argument, and the sight of the mysterious and stern elven king.
"Legolas, it does not take much guessing to know that you would have pushed yourself to your limits. Plus, I can feel your exhaustion. You know that," Thranduil was serious, but not so stern anymore. Legolas was now only a couple feet away from him, and Bard could watch them both at the same time from a safe distance.
He was confused by the last couple statements. What did Thranduil mean by saying he could feel Legolas's exhaustion? He considered asking one of the other elves, for they did not seem confused by it at all, but they were intent on watching quietly, and Bard did not feel like disturbing them.
"Adar, you have not slept much either, how can you accuse me of pushing myself, when you are doing the same?" Legolas asked. Both of the arguing elves had seemed to calm down, and now they were calmly discussing it.
Bard was so confused, especially since he did not understand what "adar" meant. He thought it could have been an elvish honorific, used to address their king, but it didn't seem right, from the way Legolas had said it.
One of the watching elves, seeming to not his confusion, stepped over quietly. "Adar means 'father,'" he explained. It took Bard a few moments to comprehend, but then he understood. Legolas was King Thranduil's son. No wonder they both had blond hair, and he could see some other similarities, too, now. And that is what Thranduil had meant when he had said that Legolas was "not just a captain." He was the elven prince.
Bard smiled at the elf in gratitude, but then furrowed his brow in confusion again. Now that he had the opportunity, he asked, "What does he mean, that he can feel Legolas's exhaustion?" He kept his voice low, so as not to interrupt the other elves, who had continued their discussion while Bard was getting his explanations.
"The bond between elves is strong, especially among family," the dark haired elf explained. "Since they are father and son, if they focus hard on the other, and they are near enough, they can feel the emotions of the other, and also get a general direction of where they are."
"Ah," Bard said, nodding his head, finally understanding. Elves truly were mysterious and powerful creatures. He focused his attention back on the elven king and his son.
"I have slept a few hours every night, Legolas," Thranduil had said. "Besides, the work I do is not as active as what you do. I will accept nothing less than a full night's sleep."
"Adar, surely a few hours, perhaps five, would be enough?" Legolas had answered, sounding surprisingly like a little child, begging to be able to stay up just "a few more minutes" past his bedtime.
Thranduil, one eyebrow raised, had said, "No, eight at the least, preferably ten," very definitely.
By the time Bard was paying closer attention, Thranduil had stepped towards Legolas, put a hand on his back, and gently guided him away from the fire, and supposedly in the direction of his tent.
Bard could hear Legolas protest again, but, as a father himself, knew that the prince would gain no headway when his father was so determined. Especially since it was the Elvenking Thranduil. Smiling slightly, and shaking his head in amusement, Bard realized that Legolas definitely got his stubborn streak from his father.
It was not a bad thing to inherit, he thought wryly, unless you were trying to be stubborn against someone equally so, or perhaps more.
The battle of the five armies was fought, and it was a victory for them. The battle between father and son, which had been fought for centuries before, and would be fought still for more to come, was still going, would likely never end, and would mostly be won by Thranduil, who was definitely the more stubborn of the two. And having the added power of king did not hurt either.
Bard headed away to see what else needed doing, still smiling and shaking his head. As long as there were loving families out there, the darkness would never fully take over.