Wild Monster

by Matthew Harrington

  Drowning in the ocean of her thoughts, Faelwen routinely began to perform her duties by scuttling off to her working place. Lost in the endless pit of her own imagination and visions of the graceful healer, she failed to devote full attention to what exactly she was doing, until she attempted a light chatter with the supposed patient. Only after she had not received a clear reply from the patient for a suspiciously long time, she began to sense something had to be off. Faelwen previously noticed the patient's head had been covered with a rag which she ascribed to his poor condition, however she did not begin to doubt its purpose before realising there was an awful lack of movements coming from beneath the cloth covering most of his face. Faelwen suddenly sobered her thoughts and looked at the arch above her. It was the number of the patient Cereidon had pointed out required special care. In the end, Faelwen herself was not sure what exactly incited her to do what she'd done next, but it was most likely the pure curiosity that got the best of her. However, she was not sure the main healer would regard it in such kind way, though.

  The maid took a quick swing of the head in all directions to make sure she would not be caught in the embarrassing and dishonourable act only seconds before executing it, then slowly began to unfold the rag resting on the patient's face. As she drew nearer, Faelwen noticed another sensation. The more she thought about it, the stronger it would become. It was a sharp, penetrating odour of unmistakable origin that had filled her nostrils. In that moment, the elleth knew whatever she was about to discover would result in irreversible consequences that could prove to be quite inconvenient for her. Bur rather than heeding her own inner advice, she proceeded with the move. It lasted only about a few more painful seconds before Faelwen took in a sight she would remember until her last breath and provoked a scream so horrifying that it would reach the ears of every single being currently present in the palace.

  It was a matter of seconds before the strident screech reached Cereidon's ears who immediately recognised its owner. The first instinctive impulse urged him to run as fast as he could to determine the reason for such outrage, but he realised there was no use. He already knew what to expect. He tried to hide it deep in his subconsciousness, somewhere where the guilt wouldn't gnaw him every second of the day. But as soon as he would hear the devastating cry for help, it would come slowly crawling out of that black hole again. He was even proud of himself, to some extent, to had managed to remain the secret intact and safe as long as he had. Nevertheless, the time for false ignorance had now come to an end. As did the silver-haired marionette's reign.

  Calaron was not wrong in his estimation of the reason for the King's behaviour. Thranduil was determined to do everything in his power to continue executing his royal obligations which included leading a nation through a time of war and crisis, regardless of the consequences it may leave on his health. This was not at all a sign of masochism, but rather a sign of being addicted to something as Thranduil was to being a ruler. It presented an everyday challenge to him, a task he was looking forward to fulfil, despite its several disadvantages. To serve people was his reason to live, even though many hastily doubted he even had a particular reason, let alone it presented something so selfless. Thranduil pretended not to be bothered with petty opinions of such irrelevant people, however he did become more and more irritated by how these opinions seemed to spread among the people. He was aware it was sometimes hard and unreasonable for his people to obey his word and to believe whatever he was doing was in the name of good for the Realm, because of his detached, callous nature. But he was starting to become rather annoyed with the fact larger groups of people spread unnecessary doubt, lack of faith, and fear into the bones of those less firm in their minds. The last thing he would want in this moment was to lose his people's support and faith when he needed it the most.

  It was no doubt that those familiar with his reign and accustomed to his character would remain loyal until the end, however he was very much in favour of getting as many young elves involved in politics as possible for this place was in desperate need of brave young minds to see the true meaning of his regime. Their endorsement would not only present a great contribution to his group of followers, but likely to his military forces as well. It was not entirely a fantasy to believe some could easily be persuaded into joining the reputable Royal Army for Thranduil would have need of as many young volunteers as possible in case of imminent war state. If such horrible scenario would indeed come to pass, he would have to be absolutely sure he could rely on the army at all times.

  Thranduil shivered at the thought of being forced to declare a war state in the forthcoming future, since as of now the threat had become palpable and had ripened to the point where it was necessary to be taken seriously with the goal of eliminating it in the shortest amount of time. Being a victim of an extremely distasteful prank (as a part of the threat) himself, he now fully understood the consequences his unwillingness to take appropriate measures would bring. He should have realised it at the moment he was informed of the ellon's murder that the threat was just as real as if it were a member of common folk taking the deceased Sage's place. Only now it came to him that he should have dealt with it days ago with the same mindset he was employing at this moment. His own mistake had probably cost them a great deal of time and had won the culprit a fair advantage in the game.

  Even though the leader behind this masterly executed plan would most probably exploit Thranduil's moment of weakness to his best advantage, the frail King lying in his broad bed retained his faith that he would get the last laugh in this matter. Regardless of the hopelessness of the current situation, something inside him assured him that his Realm would evade ruin. May it was the Gods or his optimistic subconsciousness sending him this wave of sanguinity, he chose to listen to the voice and dispose of every negativity tarnishing this temporary blissful state of mind.

  Just as he was about to direct his thoughts into inventing new tricks to add to his scheming plan, he was disturbed by rapidly approaching light footsteps. He recognized them immediately.

  "Father!" Legolas exclaimed in surprised delight. "It is an enormous relief seeing you in such refreshed state."

  "Legolas, it was barely a faint," Thranduil reminded the Prince. "I would rather see the talk of this disgraceful incident stops now."

  "No one has made such claims, father," the son assured. "No one would dare."

  "Not in your presence," the King had made yet another point with a tired smile that revealed he in fact did not care at all about the spread of gossip. "Now, tell me what you wished to discuss with me earlier."

  Prince's face suddenly turned rather glum merely at the mention of the matter he was supposed to deliver to his father. It may have been true at some point that he was most eager and anxious to report to him of what had happened during his abrupt absence, but once he heard his tired voice and noticed the shade of blue in his eyes turn into the colour of a setting winter sky, he could not emotionally bring himself to admit it to him that there had come to another incident that would undoubtedly impair his father to such extent it would push him to the brink of reason and judgement. Seeing him barely regaining his strengths after obviously being undermined by the invisible enemy (despite desperately trying to convince himself as those around him otherwise), it would be indisputably cruel to afflict him with another burden for him to bear, though he was aware it was what the King would have wanted to hear from his best warrior. Yet his heart prevailed in the end nonetheless.

  "Perhaps we could delay the discussion of this dull matter to another time since-"

  "Legolas," Thranduil's voice ordered, letting the Prince know it was no time for embroidery. "Do not dare to pity me. Not you, too."

  In a way Legolas knew his father was correct in implying there was a hint of pity in his offer, however he still believed it was fair of him to try not cause him further pain, regardless of the futility of such action.

  "I came to see you as your son, not as one of your officials. And some
times I wish you could notice me in such way, too," his voice trailed off into the air, full of painful words that were long overdue.

  "The fact that we have significantly distanced since the last feast has not escaped me," Thranduil confessed. "I know I am far too late to apologize for my past mistakes and the mistakes I am yet to make, however I would want you to realise I hold no one as dear to my heart as you, nîn ion. Forgive me for the times I have acted as though I do not appreciate you sufficiently, but know I am grateful for every second I have been endowed with to spend in your company and for occupying the most blessed position of being your father."

  Legolas was not certain if the unbelievable words coming from his father's mouth at this very moment were merely a consequence of having underwent the tremendous strain, thus trusting them to be very likely uttered without Thranduil's full knowledge, or did they truly reflect how he felt towards him. He could not avoid to encourage the tiny but powerful spark of hope igniting in his mind, making his chest rise with fervent anticipation, yet he was still somewhat indecisive whether or not he should continue to do so. The days that had passed since the moment he had been waiting for those words to be finally spoken by his father went beyond his count. Could this occasion mean the beginning of his father returning to his long forgotten and buried past of being a warm, sentimental person capable of expressing his emotions?

  The silver-haired warrior turned to the opposite direction of his father's face that revealed more emotion he had ever showed to him in more than a century, and that was an expression he was not yet ready to confront. Only now that his father's welcoming eyes were not distracting him from sane thinking, he realised the inevitable truth. Something must have happened to him during that collapse. Something only he had experienced and would possibly never share with anyone until perhaps his final confession to the Gods which may be thousands of years from now (for all Legolas knew his father could rule this Realm for all eternity). It was possible that he indeed uttered those words while fully conscious, but there must have been a hidden motive for it. His father would never do anything without a secret agenda behind it, however it may be that Thranduil was now a truly changed elf. An ellon Legolas kept safe in the memories of his early childhood. Was it possible that this ellon could finally come to surface again?

  Then again, as reason seeped through the thoughts of an imaginary ellon Legolas had wished would have been his father, he realised Thranduil could have just wanted to prevail another quarrel between them by soothing him with the words he always used to manipulate him with. And those were the words Legolas wished to believe with all his heart, but somehow he always failed to convince himself they were the reflection of a fair, honest man. There was masterly concealed doubt for everything his father had ever done at all times, and Legolas could not neither explain it nor liberate himself from it.

  "We have had our differences since… ever since you mother left us. I have been struggling to redeem myself for all the injustices I have caused you with the excuse of suffering from not having your mother beside me to appease my worries. Now I see that no matter what sort of destructive behaviour I employ in hope it would fill the boundless pit in my chest, I need to let her go. For the sake of our relationship as this Realm's future."

  Legolas was left speechless once he heard those words. His mind went completely blank, the only thing filling his head was the echo of his father's raw confession. He could not so easily dismiss the fact that Thranduil had not spoken of Itheliel's departure for as long as he could remember. In fact, the reminiscence of the three of them walking towards the palace in sweet summertime was the only memory he managed to salvage of her. It was at the same time the only recollection he had of seeing his father and mother united. Little did he know at the time that it would be one of their last moments together as a family.

  "Father, I..." Legolas gauchely began to express his stupefaction and finally be able to give a normal respond, but was again at lost with words which would adequately describe what he was going through. "I could never tell you how long I've waited for you to say these words to me."

  Thranduil kept his eyes locked on his son's face as the latter was having mild difficulties with putting words in wanted order. Like his son, he could not deny this moment definitely represented a turning point in their recently deteriorated relationship which was now undergoing a serious and inevitable renovation.

  "I must confess," Thranduil interrupted Legolas's frantic quest for a perfect response in order to supply him with additional explanation to the sudden change in his demeanour. "Although it is quite hard for me to admit my own errors as I would often wish to give the impression there are none, neglecting our relations and avoiding responsibility of rectifying the injustices I have caused you were the biggest of them all. Not a day passes me by that I do not yearn for her return, however futile and ridiculous nurturing that hope might be. I am aware my seclusion can easily be mistaken for imperviousness to matters of sentimental nature, but you know just as well as I do that it had not always been like that." Thranduil allowed himself a short break in which he contemplated about the firmness of the future sentence he was beginning to compose. "At least not when mother was still here to protect me from evolving to this monstrous form of myself that is now available for everyone to ridicule."

  "Father, you are not a monster," Legolas heard himself say before his mind could stop him, maintaining the direction of his glance aimed at the wall opposite of the bed. "If anything, you were merely mending your own broken heart."

  "And in those times I had selfishly forgotten I was not alone in suffering from the pain her absence has caused," Thranduil waited until Legolas slowly turned his eyes to find his father in a more emotionally vulnerable state than his current physical condition which was the cause of being tied to the bed.

  As Legolas joined his gaze with Thranduil's, he was astonished at the discovery when he sensed pure sincerity, penitence, and sorrow he had never seen before in his eyes. Whether Thranduil was truly embarking upon a path of redemption and reconciliation or merely giving a successful impression of it, Legolas was willing to hear whatever he wished to say to him as sign of gratitude for the courage he managed to show.

  "My mind and heart had barely evolved from a child's to a juvenile's," Legolas kept defending his father without actually having a reason for it. "I could not reasonably comprehend the gist nor the effects of her departure."

  Thranduil could not for the love of Gods compel himself to turn his gaze elsewhere as he stared at his son in complete fascination. There was too much of her hidden within his gestures and movements for him to simply look away. It was as if she was speaking to him directly through Legolas; watching him through his vision, perceiving him through his senses, speaking to him through the words Legolas would utter – for a moment he convinced himself she was still just as real as his own son in front of him, merely taking a stroll around the palace this very instance and that she would return to his chambers any minute now. That she would return to his embrace.

  "What's the matter, father?"

  "Oh, the past got the better of me for a brief second. No wonder you are your mother's son," the King replied softly.

  The Prince let out a mellow chortle, yet his eyes betrayed what his lips failed to deliver – that he was still a bit confused about father's last sentence.

  "The resemblance to your mother is utterly uncanny and evermore haunts me," Thranduil began to answer Legolas's unspoken question as he readjusted in his position. "In every word, I can hear her call. In each glance I notice the spark of her essence reflecting in your eyes. No matter where she'd gone or if the Gods would ever grant us the mercy of her return, you are her greatest legacy. You are the reason her spirit persisted, merging our souls as if they were still as one. And you are what shall always connect us with her, regardless of where she may have found her peace. She wouldn't have wanted for us to continue to fight like this."

  "You truly believe so?"

>   "With my every breath and beat of my heart," Thranduil offered him a heartfelt smile that masterfully hid the cracks behind his expended veneer of serenity.

  Legolas returned the kind gesture, before deepening into his thoughts once again. It had been so long since they last openly spoke of his mother's disappearance in a way that would not end in a disastrous feud, leading to several weeks of silence before they would provisionally forgive each other only for the sake of political matters that demanded both of their presences in the same room (a rather challenging task on its own). Bearing this fact in mind, it only added more confusion to the already baffled mind of the Prince. It seemed as though Thranduil had exploited all means in order to convince Legolas this truly was a confession of a changed man, and he could not deny a fair amount of courage was used to carry out such action.

  Legolas came to the realisation that their apparent truce was solely contingent upon his decision whether or not he was inclined to agree to his suggestion. Deferring to the said suggestion would require impossible of Legolas; or at least something he did not think he was ready to give away that easily. To achieve the purpose of indelible peace between them, Legolas would first have to forgive Thranduil everything he had ever done that made Legolas bear him ill-will, including the very cause of their argument that had been ongoing ever since the Prince escaped to the woods to seek the serenity he had failed to show in that fight with his father. Indeed, this was the opportunity for both of them to show they cherished the well-being of the Realm and valued good relations over feeling resentments against each other. While the Realm's future was in vulnerable and indefinite state, there was no time to embolden their personal misunderstandings but rather a chance to show those in doubt that they were capable of concertedly leading the Realm to a happier future and that they deemed it worthy enough to swallow their prides for it.