As the palace rose in the horizon, Turion knew the object of his search was nearing. The horrors he had just left were still fresh and racing throughout his mind, images of blood making the river of the forest run red.
Trying to push this terrible thought out of his mind, he pushed his exhausted horse even harder.
The pair could only sit together at first as they watched the small party get ever closer to the gates of the palace. Finally, Legolas turned his eyes to Aragorn. Uncertainty and foreboding shone in the blue eyes of the Elf as he rose to greet those of his land. He had informed his father, King Thranduil, that his trip to Gondor might require several weeks and his father did agree to this time away. The reason why these elves of his land would be already riding to Gondor eluded him as he finally met up with the on-comers. Legolas didn't even notice Aragorn keeping pace with him and standing behind him as they waited for the elves to dismount.
The leading elf, distraught and weary bowed low. He wore the tunic of a warrior, but in keeping with the tradition of the elves of the Greenwood, he did not wear armor. Their society never had and it cost them dearly at the Battle of the Last Alliance where Legolas' grandfather Oropher was killed, but in the race of elves one does not argue with long tradition.
"Prince Legolas." The elf finally spoke upon rising.
"Turion, Captain of the eastern army, what brings you here? Certainly my father does not already seek my return." Distressed by the look on the captain's eyes, Legolas waited for a response.
"No, Sire. We, your subjects seek your return."
Shock and silence hung in the air, giving it electricity that raised the hair on Aragorn's neck. Glancing at Legolas, he saw the wonder at the complete meaning behind those words in his friend's face.
The King of Men thought it best to end the silence, "Please, Captain, come through the gates. You and your company look of complete exhaustion. All can be told inside." The Elf Legolas had called Turion took in Aragorn's intentions for a moment before relenting.
The small group of five elves followed one of the guards Aragorn assigned to leading them into the main hall while Aragorn turned back towards Legolas who had not moved from his spot on the lawn.
"Legolas?"
Pained eyes finally moved and met his. Grief in the eyes of an elf could bring despair to anyone who looked at them. "I can't go in there, Aragorn. I can't hear the words, for as long as I have not heard the words it is not real. It is not true. What evil that has befallen my homeland and forced a response all this distance?" His whispering was so silent that Aragorn could barely make out any of his friend's words.
"Hiding from it will not make it go away. The sooner you face that you fear the sooner you can overcome it."
Nodding numbly, Legolas proceeded into the halls with Aragorn walking step in step along with him.
Elves, by nature, are not emotional on a daily basis. They do enjoy merriment and do experience the range of emotions every creature born into this world do. Given their long lifespans, they can take the time to absorb each emotion and have no need to squeeze them all into every day like mortals often do. However, on this day and in this hall, emotions ran high for all present and none in the room envied Turion his task.
Finally, the Elf was able to find words, find his voice.
"My Prince, Eryn Lasgalen was attacked three days ago. Never had we even seen such an attack, brutal and organized, the orcs and Uruk-hai broke through our southern border." Pausing he took a slow breath, knowing that this fact would bring his kind Prince more pain in addition to that which was already coming. "They knew exactly where to hit us and when."
"Go on." His voice had cracked, but it was the best the Prince could do.
Not able to maintain eye contact, Turion looked onto the marble table, "They reached the stone palace in force. We tried to keep them back, but they outnumbered us. Our river yet runs with the mixed blood of elf and orc. Only too late did we see where their efforts were coordinated and what their intentions were."
Eyes rising once more, he met Legolas' uncertain gaze.
"Your father is dead."
Rising with as much dignity as possible, the Captain approached the Prince who was shaking his head in denial.
Going down onto one knee, he held out his father's sword, still stained black from the blood of enemies slain.
"Hail, Legolas, King of Mirkwood."
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