Tempest: Queen of Greenwood

Summary: Arodien ponders over her husband. A brief walk through the Ages.

Disclaimer: Do not own.

Flames not appreciated.

All of my stories are interconnected unless stated otherwise. For this you may need to read Tempest Series, to understand. :)

Enjoy!

~S~

Greenwood the Great

He had not been what I had expected. Our Elven kin that lived beyond the forest trees were not as simple living folk like us, and were often caught in the net of protocol, and war.

He was comely in appearance, and that did not surprise me. He was an able soldier, judging from the practised ease he displayed when he and his comrades took the field and played with their wooden swords.

He held a startling resemblance with his father, Oropher. Both were tall, with grey eyes and long pale golden hair. They were both broad-shouldered, well-muscled, a force to reckon with when the time came. But where Oropher was soft-spoken, quiet and aloof, Thranduil was warm and outspoken. Although, I would say he was no less observant than his Sire, for his eyes did not miss much. The way he made people at ease around him won him instant friends and strong allies, and I knew he had my people with him, for my people were loyal when they were, and just as dangerous if they found their loyalties tested. Even my father considered him a high ally. Oropher, however, had the command and it was clear father and son cherished one another greatly, and there was great love between them.

He had lost his mother, I heard, in the Sacking of their city Doriath, but if he had grieved, none knew. Most likely both he and his father had, but what was done was done. In his playfulness and flippant remarks, and that streak of mischief in his eyes I noticed an unspeakable sorrow in him. He had seen much before he came to the forest and it touched my heart to see him thus, for I think his childhood was nothing but joy, a joy that tampered when he had grown.

One thing that never ceased to exasperate me was his endless battle with the forest! The handsome fool would always cause the forest to hate him in one way or the other. But I knew the trees were dangerous but they did not move with anger at him. They never hurt in a long-lasting manner, save for the minor cuts and bruising by 'accidently' raising a root to make him trip, or throw him off his horse as he cantered past. One time, a tree managed to trip him and he caught me, forcing me between the tree and him. I had glared up the tree when we straightened but the tree insisted it was a 'mistake'. But once, by a stream, Thranduil had fallen asleep, his sword hanging from the branch above him, and I noticed how the tree bent its boughs over him, protecting him from the glare of the sun and from anything that may wish to harm him. This forest, while playfully retaliating with him, loved him dearly as the people did.

The most unsuspecting thing he had done was to propose to me. We had only met for two years and he arrived one day at our doorstep and asked for an audience with my parents. It was not unexpected for him to arrive and speak to my father for advice, it was certainly a surprise for him to come and ask for mother as well. When I learned of his permission to court me, I turned to him irately and told he could well ask me instead of going behind my back. Much to my annoyance then, he had only laughed in answer.

When Legolas was born, it had brought joy to both our families and to the people. A new prince was born that day, and even as a new born, he took many of his father's features that only refined as he grew. I once caught Thranduil carrying his firstborn in his arms, cooing to him, while Oropher looked over his shoulder and I was struck by the glimpse of three generations standing before me, each capable of doing great things.

In some ways, Legolas was more like me than his father but in most of them, he was his father's splitting image. His looks came more from the paternal side of his family, especially the height and the facial features and hair, but his eye colour was like my own; light blue that turned into ice when he was furious. He inherited his paternal temper, though Thranduil was stern when it came to reining it in. But the child was very lively, inquisitive, and always getting into some mischief or the other, something Thranduil and Oropher both enjoyed.

"It will pass," Thranduil told me once, laughing. "Children will be children, and he will outgrow most of them."

We had our squabbles, our worst being the one over Legolas' marriage. But I will not speak more of it; it was solved, and Legolas married the Elleth he wanted to wed. But then one day, in the beginning of Third Age, I watched the trees I grew up under wither and die and my heart cried for the Sea.

"Must you go?" He asked when I told him I wished to sail. I saw the fragility in his eyes, the grief still new in his heart from his father's death. His shoulders were lowered. They had been that way since he became king.

"I cannot stay," I answered, touching his fingers that clasped by chin. He sighed, and as the sweet strong Ellon he was, he accepted it.

The years passed, until one day I heard that Thranduil was in Aman. I bathed and perfumed quickly and dressed in a lavender dress, a colour he liked.

When I entered his parents' home, I was so nervous I couldn't eat. He sat there, his mother wiping away his tears while she wept herself in joy. Oropher's arm was about his wife's shoulders, a soft smile over his face. What will he think of me? He accepted my decision but did he curse me for leaving him alone, when he was at his weakest.

His eyes brightened and in a few large steps he approached me and lifted me up without even a moment of hesitation.

"Armes," he said. From the love in his voice, I knew our bond was strong as ever.

oOo

Tempest

He had changed.

I could see it in the way he moved and the way he spoke. He had seen hard times. I could tell. There was renewed sadness in his eyes and it felt parts of him were torn away, like pieces of glass chipped from the corners as the glass went through small rocks and sharp objects. He was still tender, caring and loving, calling me with the name "Armes" he had given to me since we had wed. But he was now distant, as if we both stood on separate islands, so far that I could not call him to myself.

A part of me curses the gift the Valar had given him. To me it was no 'gift'. It was breaking him, changing him. But I knew why he took it. A king he was, though he refused to believe it. Always putting his people first, always worrying over their safety.

Too often I caressed his cheek, or embraced him but there was no other way for me to soothe him. His troubles and burdens were encased inside him. The burden was only upon his shoulders. There was no way for me to take it from him.

Another part of me cursed the circumstances that forced him to take it. But now I could do nothing but watch him and be the Queen I knew he needed me to be. That was what I was, I was a Queen, a wife, a daughter of a father who was strong to hold up a sword, the mother who knew what it was like to send her child to learn how to pick up the sword and fight with in dangerous times.

But Thranduil stood before me, dressed in armour, a sword resting by his side, his eyes so sad and his shoulders burdened with responsibility. He was always a survivor, I reminded myself. He will survive this. But he had noticed that my eyes were beginning to blur as tears welled up.

"I will not." I answered him. He touched my temple lightly, before pulling off a ring from his hand and presenting it to me; his ring of matrimony. I stiffened my lower lip to prevent it from trembling.

"Have I disappointed you, beloved husband?" I asked. His form blurred until I barely saw an outline. Then one eye cleared; a tear dropped, tracking a river down my cheek. With his free hand, he wiped the tear away, his gaze tender.

"You are still my wife," he said. "We are still bonded, but I will not let the enemy have the satisfaction of taking something I so treasure away from my body."

His body. When he is dead.

My hand moved with a mind of its own, picking the object with numb fingers.

"Armes," Thranduil said, not knowing what to say as I did not. What should we say now? It was the end of all times. It was the end of everything we knew. But then he smiled, a smile that was so boyish that I was reminded of the first time we met. "I treasure every memory we shared."

"As do I."

Neither I nor he liked farewells, so he simply turned on his heel, marching with his commanders to the front of the army waiting for him. I watched his back, my hand becoming a fist. His ring dug into my flesh.

"My Queen, we must move inside."

I sighed. Turning on my heel, I went back to the Halls, the female guards forming ranks behind me. A month passed and it happened.

The stars dimmed.

Death arrived.

~S~

Author's Note:

A lot of people, when reading Arodien, wanted to know what she meant to Thranduil. The problem is that I do not just conjure up OCs on my own. I paint my OCs and give them depth. In the beginning, she is a young Elleth, youthful and lively. After her marriage to Thranduil, she grew to mature Elleth, with a clever thought. She is a loving mother, a caring wife. As far as her Sea-longing is concerned, Sea-longing is considered to be something compulsory. Once an Elf feels the Longing, they need to sail or they will Fade.

This is just a brief glimpse into her life, in her thoughts.

The title 'The Second Throne' came from the thought that as a Queen, the sole symbol of a throne room is the King's throne. A Queen's throne is usually second… if that makes sense.

The end part is related to Tempest that is already underway. To understand what it means, you will have to read Tempest. It is in four parts. That is, if you wish. :)

1) Tempest: Modern Age (complete)

2) Tempest: Stronghold (complete)

3) Tempest: Prophecy (in progress)

4) Tempest: Shade

Additional note: For the moment, Tempest: Modern Age is being rewritten. You are more than welcome to read its rewrite. :)