Chapter Text
Thranduil wrapped his arms around his stomach and leaned against the tree trunk. His gaze roamed the night sky, going from star to star until it landed upon the one he was looking for. He didn’t take his gaze off it until Celeborn walked up to him, a bowl of stew in his hands as an offering.
Shifting slightly to get into a more comfortable position, Thranduil barely glanced at it before shaking his head and returning to staring at the sky. Celeborn looked sadly at his cousin, knowing exactly how he felt. He felt the same way. At least he bothered to wash the blood off himself, Celeborn noted, or maybe that was Galion’s doing.
Setting the bowl aside for the moment, he settled down next to Thranduil, matching his posture almost exactly, down to his legs fully outstretched and the set of his mouth, the only difference being that he crossed his arms over his chest. “Lovely sky tonight,” Celeborn commented.
“What do you want?” Thranduil asked sharply. Celeborn sighed at Thranduil’s bad mood. He knew he wasn’t mad at him specifically, but rather at himself and the world in general.
“You know you’re my favourite cousin, you always have been and you probably always will be.”
Thranduil snorted, “I should hope I am, seeing as I’m your only cousin who made it out of the first age alive.”
“And you know I want what’s best for you,” Celeborn continued as if Thranduil hadn’t spoken, “and I know something is bothering you. I want to help. Please Thranduil.”
Thranduil finally dropped his gaze from the sky to his cousin’s face, the icy blue eyes burning bright with barely contained fury. “Why are you so desperate to help me now when I don’t need it? You should’ve helped me 3,000 years ago when I asked you for it. Besides, there's only one person who can help me.”
Celeborn fixed him with a stern look. Thranduil matched it with one of his own. Stony silence ensued.
“You know I have no problem doing this,” Thranduil said after this battle of wills had lasted well over 10 minutes.
“I do not doubt that you could glare at the Valar themselves until they did your bidding, but I, however, will not.”
Relenting, Thranduil sighed and returned his gaze to the stars.
“Do you ever look up at the sky and realise just how insignificant you are?”
Celeborn shook his head.
“Of course you don’t,” Thranduil scoffed under his breath. “So many of my people have given their lives to protect my kingdom, to give us a chance at rebuilding what was lost. But how long will it last?” Thranduil looked down from the sky as he said that last bit to Celeborn, not surprised when Celeborn shrugged.
“If our forest burns, we burn with it,” Thranduil said, the line that he and his people had agreed on so long ago, still ingrained into him. “Did you know that we went into that battle fully expecting for none of us to survive, for us to finally all perish? We all said our goodbyes, Celeborn, goodbyes.”
“I am so sorry, Thranduil,” Celeborn said, pain filling his eyes, “I should’ve done more to help your people, to help you. But I was selfish. I didn’t think that the darkness could touch us, touch me. I was wrong, so very wrong, and you paid the price. And for that I am so sorry.”
“Sorry won’t bring back all the lives lost.” Thranduil's voice was completely devoid of all emotion, the blatant words slicing through the air.
“I know,” Celeborn’s whispered words were filled with shame and regret.
Thranduil laughed with no humour, “I should be down there celebrating with my people, but instead I’m up here trying to understand how I got it so wrong. How I managed to mess up so badly.”
“Thranduil!” Celeborn exclaimed in shock at Thranduil’s admission, “You can’t possibly think that any of this is your fault! You had no control over the situation!”
“Maybe not, but I still led my people into war.”
The truth of that statement rang through the air, Thranduil's guilt and self-loathing almost palpable with it. A hysterical like laugh bubbled out of his chest. Shaking his head, he admitted, “I don’t know if I should laugh or if I should cry. If I should scream, or if I should throw up. If I should sleep for the next 100 years or if I should just… drift away.” His voice became unnaturally distant and resigned as he said the last part, his gaze finding somewhere else (that wasn’t in the visible world) to rest. Celeborn opened his mouth to say something he hoped would be comforting when Thranduil sighed. “I mean, Ava’s currently lying in a bed that I don’t know if she’ll ever open her eyes from. Galion’s half mad from running around for the past 72 hours straight. And I don’t even know if Legolas is alive!” He laughed hysterically, “Me! Not knowing if my own son, my flesh and blood, is still alive!” His laugh turned into a sob. “Do you think he’s still alive, Celeborn?”
Celeborn mustered as much confidence as he could and said without a trace of uncertainty in his voice, “There is not a single doubt in my mind that says Legolas is not alive. He will come back to you.”
“I hope so, Celeborn, I really hope so.” Thranduil’s whispered plea nearly broke Celeborn’s heart. He wrapped one arm around his younger cousin’s shoulder, allowing Thranduil to exhaustedly lay his head against his shoulder.
“How did you do it?”
“How did I do what?”
“Beat Sauron, for a loss of better words.”
Thranduil breathed out a laugh, “Good question, I’ve been wondering that for the last hour.”
“It amazes me, you somehow managed to outsmart the very force that taunted the Valar themselves for over millennia. That is a skill I wish I had.”
“I wouldn’t wish this skill even upon my worst enemy,” Thranduil muttered, his voice going dark.
“Why?”
“If you have this skill, it means you’d have to use it. No one should have to do what Legolas or any of my captains had to do.”
“You included?”
“I suppose so. No one should have to lead their people into a war that shouldn’t have been any of their business.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You already said that.” Thranduil pointed out, rather unhelpfully.
“I know, but no words in any language will ever express how sorry I am. Truely Thranduil, I am so deeply sorry that you had to do this alone.”
“Me too, Celeborn, me too.”
Celeborn frantically looked around to find something he could talk about to break the thick silence that had descended upon the pair. After a minute of searching, his gaze landed upon the discarded bowl of stew next to him that he’d brought as a sort of peace offering.
“Would you like to have the stew I brought earlier? Admittedly, it is probably cold now, but I should imagine that it would taste just as good.”
“By ‘good’ do you mean terrible? Because I am yet to find a stew that I like.”
“So do you want it or not?” As before, Thranduil shook his head and wrapped his arms tighter around his middle. Celeborn sighed, knowing exactly why Thranduil refused to eat, the same reason why he’d only brought one bowl of stew and not two. He placed the neglected bowl back on the floor, deciding to allow Thranduil to sit there with his thoughts. Thranduil watched as he stood up, smiled at his cousin and left, the small hill finally quiet.
The stars smiled and twinkled down at Thranduil, daring him to allow himself to drift off. All he wanted to do was let go, to just close his eyes and never have to open them again. He was just so tired, his soul weary and weighed down with this Earth’s problems. Maybe if he just let his eyes fall shut, even if only for a minute, maybe some of the bone-deep exhaustion would go away. Maybe the weight pulling him down would ease off a bit. Maybe…
He groaned out loud, dragging a hand down his taut face, already feeling the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes. He dragged himself to his feet. No matter how much he may wish this, but the world won’t stop for one person. And no matter how much he may try to bargain otherwise, there was always more work to be done. And his work now lay in front of him, big, new and scary. So with one step at a time, he made his way down the hill. Down, down, down until he reached where he belonged, where he was needed. He went back to his people. He stood at the edge of the camp, looking at the bustling masses. Elves hurried to and from places, never pausing for a moment despite the ridiculous hour. He gathered his resolve and walked back into the suffocating madness that he had so desperately tried to escape from. Barely a minute passed before an elf walked up to him, a slightly relieved expression on his face.
“My Lord Thranduil, Lord Ferdan sent me to tell you to go to the healer's tent seven.”
Thranduil's stomach sank. He felt like throwing up. Healer's tent seven was the tent Ava was in. He smiled, but even it felt extremely forced to him.
“Thank you, I’ll go there right away.” If Ferdan had sent someone to find him, then something must have happened. Closing his eyes and taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Thranduil straightened his spine and walked towards the tent with purpose. He stopped outside it, hesitating before opening the flap and walking in.