Chapter Text
Greenleaf.
Such a gentle sounding name, filled with promises of something new, something better.
When he was an elfling, Legolas was the embodiment of such ideals. Carefree laughter filling the king’s halls, smiles blossoming on the faces of all he encountered. A child of the watchful peace.
People forget that nature is rarely soft or peaceful, Thranduil however was acutely aware of the powers resting within his forest. He felt the brute strength of his elk, the ancient wisdom within the trees lining his gardens, the biting winds of winter and the frozen waters that threaten to kill any foolish enough to venture unprepared into their midst.
The king never thought that he would compare his son to the brutality of nature, nor did he think his precious leafling would become something so violent and relentless. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, after all there are numerous scrolls and tomes detailing his family’s tragic past. Generations of his kin torn apart by war, mothers and wives stolen away leaving grieving husbands to raise their children alone, sons watching their fathers fall to swords and not having time to grieve because there were still fights to be won.
Watching Legolas walk away, through piles of orcs his elfling killed, Thranduil could not contain his emotions any longer. He needed to leave, to be away from the spilled blood, away from elves demanding his leadership, away from loved ones grieving, away from the remnants of battle.
So Thranduil did something he never thought he would do, he ran. He ran away from everything.
He didn’t stop running, he was vaguely aware of voices calling his name, but he could not stop running.
The landscape dissolved into loose forms of colour as tears took over his vision, but he still couldn’t stop running.
After what felt like an eternity, the great elf lord fell to his knees beside the Celduin river. If he were any other elf, Thranduil would have screamed his frustration and grief for all to hear, but he was raised as an elf lord in Doriath, he was the king of the woodland realm, he could not show such weakness out in the open. So, it was a pitiful whimper that escaped his lips as he curled up in the snow.
Thranduil was so consumed with his emotions that he didn’t notice the gentle crunch of horse hooves and as exhaustion finally overcame him, the last thing he saw were the grey boots walking towards him, before he fell into blissful unconsciousness.