Mirkwood - c. 2940 T.A
Even the sky cried for her.
The rain worked its way through the thick canopy to moisten ground impervious to the many tears that had already fallen upon it. They had loved her well, this queen, truly one of their own. He had loved her also, this dark-haired lore master's daughter, from the moment he laid eyes on her. A perfect match, a perfect balance – her sweet and merry Silvan ways contrasting his trained Sindar nobility. In life she had softened him, but her passing had brought out his legendary hardness. His face was set in grim lines and he had yet to shed a tear.
What remained of his family stood nearby – two of the three sons she had bore him. How they had laughed over the accident of naming those children – by sheer irony Andil had his mother's soft, dark, Silvan features while Legolas had inherited his own golden locks and angular face. Like twins in spirit, both had grown to have their mother's carefree ways. They stood next to each other now in silent support, their faces twisted into identical masks of grief as they struggled to restrain the occasional tears that slid down their faces.
It had happened much too quickly, and he blamed himself entirely. He had known that the grief of a mother who has lost a child was heavy on her heart. Had known that passage over the sea would heal her. And yet he watched as her despair grew, vainly attempting to cheer her, struggling to convince them all that she would grow well again. He had not forced her to stay, but nor had he encouraged her to go. And so, out of love for him, she had stayed. And so, out of grief for their son, she had died. And now she was lost to him.
Long after the others had gone away, and even his sons had left, the king stayed alone under the tree where his beloved rested. Long had it been a favourite place of theirs, and now he placed his hand on the trunk, trying to evoke a memory of her in happier times. At last he spoke, and his words were filled with sorrow.
"Please try to understand...I thought my love would be enough...I could not have stood to watch you leave...I thought that was enough..."
His voice choked, and his heart cried out to the one it knew so well.
I needed you.
Laer nîn.
Meleth nîn.
Eryneth.
Thranduil rested his head against the tree, and the first tear fell.
Even the sky cried for her.
The rain worked its way through the thick canopy to moisten ground impervious to the many tears that had already fallen upon it. They had loved her well, this queen, truly one of their own. He had loved her also, this dark-haired lore master's daughter, from the moment he laid eyes on her. A perfect match, a perfect balance – her sweet and merry Silvan ways contrasting his trained Sindar nobility. In life she had softened him, but her passing had brought out his legendary hardness. His face was set in grim lines and he had yet to shed a tear.
What remained of his family stood nearby – two of the three sons she had bore him. How they had laughed over the accident of naming those children – by sheer irony Andil had his mother's soft, dark, Silvan features while Legolas had inherited his own golden locks and angular face. Like twins in spirit, both had grown to have their mother's carefree ways. They stood next to each other now in silent support, their faces twisted into identical masks of grief as they struggled to restrain the occasional tears that slid down their faces.
It had happened much too quickly, and he blamed himself entirely. He had known that the grief of a mother who has lost a child was heavy on her heart. Had known that passage over the sea would heal her. And yet he watched as her despair grew, vainly attempting to cheer her, struggling to convince them all that she would grow well again. He had not forced her to stay, but nor had he encouraged her to go. And so, out of love for him, she had stayed. And so, out of grief for their son, she had died. And now she was lost to him.
Long after the others had gone away, and even his sons had left, the king stayed alone under the tree where his beloved rested. Long had it been a favourite place of theirs, and now he placed his hand on the trunk, trying to evoke a memory of her in happier times. At last he spoke, and his words were filled with sorrow.
"Please try to understand...I thought my love would be enough...I could not have stood to watch you leave...I thought that was enough..."
His voice choked, and his heart cried out to the one it knew so well.
I needed you.
Laer nîn.
Meleth nîn.
Eryneth.
Thranduil rested his head against the tree, and the first tear fell.