Chapter 1 – The lost, the broken, the dead
When the cold of winter comes
Starless night will cover day
In the veiling of the sun
We will walk in bitter rain
But in dreams
I can hear your name
And in dreams
We will meet again
-O-
"My Lord! It's the Queen. She's been attacked!"
Thranduil shot out of his chair, ignoring the cries and shouts from his advisor's. "Where is she?" He urged, running towards the guard as the Elf held the door open for him.
"She is in the healing wing." A pause. "They were attacked by Orcs."
Thranduil halted. "By Orcs?" The guard nodded. "What of Legolas? What of the Prince?" The Elf looked to the ground, eyes turning dark with deep sadness. The King grabbed the guard by the collar "Where is my son?!" He growled, the guard flinched but said nothing more. Thranduil let the Elf's collar go and ran for the healing halls, his heart seizing at each step he took as he could feel the pain and suffering his wife was feeling through their strong bond. As he neared the halls, his people surrounded the entrance and Thranduil yelled at them to move out his way, those he had spent many long years with sending him saddened and pitiful looks that made him want to throw up the bile that threatened to spill past his lips.
As he entered, he stopped short. Beds were full of the dying or the gravely injured, each with love one's at their sides, holding and crying, praying to the Valar to let them pass peacefully and or give them as much needed strength as possible for a swift recovery. He felt his soul ache as he looked at each crying elleth, ellon and hên. *she-elf, he-elf, child*
He felt useless. He could not make their pain go away and a King should be able to lesson that by some amount... but right this instance, he felt like he couldn't move. The entire patrol that had taken the Queen and Prince out for a gentle stroll along his lands borders were lying within beds, even some of the border guards were here as well.
"My King!" Sadron, the head-healer of his realm, cried and Thranduil felt himself immediately snap back to reality and ran towards the Elf. As he got closer, he saw who the healer was tending too and felt his immortal heart stop.
"Calina." He breathed, eyes tearing as he took a look at his dear wife and best friend's weakened and pale face. He knelt besides her bed, seeing her forest-green eyes turn towards his icy blue, tears running down her soft cheeks as she whimpered in hurt and sorrow. "It's going to be alright, my love." He whispered as he kissed her brow, ignoring the gauze that covered up a deep cut and the dried blood on the side of her forehead.
Thranduil looked up at Sadron, his eyes now darkening more so than before as he knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. "Where is Legolas, Sadron?" His wife let out a sob that caused the whole healing halls to go silent, all eyes upon them. Some of his people gasped when they realised that the Prince was no where in sight.
Sadron turned his eyes away from his King. Thranduil choked when he immediately remembered the guard doing the same "Please, Sadron, where is my son?" he pleaded, something he had not done in a long time.
"Thranduil." He turned to look down at his wife, those forest-green eyes now glassy and dull. He knew that look, had seen it in far too many times in his passed three thousand years. He had seen it far too many times in his sleepless nights as he recalled that day over a thousand years ago. That memory of friends dying by the cruel hands of Orcs on the vast plains of Dagorlad, the memory of his Adar... He had thought that he would never loose a loved one again after that day but the world can be a cruel and terrible place sometimes. *Father*
"Please, rest guren." *my heart*. Thranduil said, holding onto his wife's hand, never letting his eyes leave her own.
"No." She whispered back. "I already feel myself being pulled away, Mela. I think I may not be able to celebrate our sons first birthday, to see his loving smile and the twinkle of stars in his gentle eyes." Her broken smile shattered his heart, the tears he had been holding all this time now falling uncontrollably. *love*
"Please, please don't say that. Please, I beg you." He whimpered, kissing the back of her hand, feeling the coldness of her skin against his lips.
"Our son..." Calina breathed "They took him. The-they took our precious Greenleaf."
He didn't want to believe it. He sat their, still as if frozen by the great cold winds of the Caradhras.
Orcs had taken his son. Taken him to a foul place where he may never see the light ever again. But why, why have they taken his son?
"They left you a message my Lord." Sadron said as he finally looked up from the ground, hands searching in his robe for the ratted parchment that carried a dark message. He handed the parchment over to his King when he found it. "We know not of what it says."
Thranduil took it with slight hesitation. Silver-red blood of his people and the black vile blood of the enemy mixed together, both pure and tainted soaked in the material. Through the blood was indeed written a message, black speech that he did not know what it meant. Only a handful of people outside of Sauron's forces knew and understood the black speech of Mordor.
"Thranduil." Thranduil looked back to his wife, his grip on the piece of parchment tightening when he saw the shortness of breath leaving her. "Do not stop looking for him." She whispered, all her strength finally fading. "Even if it takes a thousand years, do not stop looking for our child."
The parchment fell from his hands, landing all-too-softly on the stone floor. "Mela." A sob tore from his throat as he saw her eyes beginning to drop.
"Do not let my passing bring never-ending sadness to you." She just had enough strength to form a small smile, the last of her tears now falling. "Just always re-remember that our Greenleaf is out the-there, alone and frightened. He nee-needs to be found."
Thranduil nodded, tears falling quickly down his face as he kissed his wife's hand again and again.
"If our leaf is ever found ,t-tell him I love him, that I love him more than anything?" He nodded, not hearing the sobs of his people as they witnessed the last passing moments of their fair and kind Queen. "And that I am s-sorry for not being able t-too protect him. I, I love you Thranduil, always and forever will you be in my heart."
"And always and forever will you be in mine, dear sweet Calina." The Woodland King sobbed "The days from the moment I first met you were always a joy and I shall never forget your love. Rest now meleth and remember that I and our people will forever keep you close to our hearts for as long as our own hearts beat. May the Valar look after you." *love*
Calina smiled her brightest one last time before she whispered her final words...
"Hannon le, Melanín. Novaer."
-O-
"Thranduil. Do not stop looking for him. Even if it takes a thousand years, do not stop looking for our child."
Those sweet yet saddening words ran through Thranduil's mind as he sat at his desk, face in his arms as he leaned heavily upon the wood. "Aye my love..." He whispered "...But I did stop. I stopped so many years ago."
It had been a little over two thousand years since his child had gone missing and he had lost the dear life of his wife. The lives of nine guards that went on patrol with them that day and also five border guards that were desperately trying to aid them, were gone forever as well.
"My Lord." A small voice said at his door and he groaned when his thoughts were disturbed.
"Have you ever heard of knocking, Tauriel?" He said, watching the red-haired Elleth walk into his study and stand in front of his desk.
"I did knock about seven times, my Lord." She said with a sad smile, seeing her King in such a state as he was, was very common this day and age. His eyes having deep purple rings around them from the constant nightmares that plague his sleep and his eyes themselves were no longer that ice blue she was told so many times about, they were a dark sea blue, an endless pit of sadness and pain.
Tauriel was born only seventeen years after the Queen had died and the whole of Mirkwood still wept for the Queen and for the Prince that was lost to the darkness, no-one ever knowing if the King's son was alive or not. She had been told many different versions on what had happened that terrible day but she would only believe one and that would be that of her King's.
She had sworn to her King the moment she held the title of captain of the guard, that she would find his son and bring him back safely.
"Tell me Tauriel, why do you sacrifice yourself for someone you have never met?"
Thranduil's words echoed through her mind as she watched her King stand, remembering the day when she had ran into an Orc pack and nearly gotten herself killed. She remembered smiling as she lay upon one of the bed's in the healing halls, Sadron at her right while her King held her hand on her left.
"Because, you had saved me from fading when my parents had died, saved me from the never-ending despair. I wish to return the favour by trying my best and bringing your son back to you...Even if I end up giving my life up in the process."
She had passed out before she saw Thranduil's reaction.
"Tauriel?" She snapped back to the present as she asked her King for forgiveness as she wasn't listening.
Thranduil sighed "I asked what you are doing here."
"Oh, yes." She stuttered. "We found a company of thirteen dwarves lost in the forest three morning's past, my Lord."
"Dwarves? They know better not to enter my lands without my permission." Thranduil frowned. This was very strange for dwarves kept their distance from his forest, knowing that he would not tolerate any from entering unless said so. "Where are they?" He asked, brushing down his robe and twisting his frosted gem ring so it was straight on his finger.
"They are in the dungeons, we had them put there as soon as we brought them here." She said, now walking out of the King's study, following her King to his throne.
"They did not give you any trouble I hope?" He glanced behind, seeing four guards now following.
"Nay, my Lord." She reported, walking in silence now as nothing more was passed between them.
After a few minutes had passed and Thranduil had climbed the steps to his throne, turning his eyes down to watch as the four guards that followed got into position before him, Tauriel standing within the centre and giving him a bow when his eyes landed on her own. "There is one thing that bothers me." He muttered, sitting upon the wood and crossing a leg over the other.
Tauriel looked up at her King, her brows furrowing "My Lord?"
"Why was I not informed about this the moment they entered my halls and not three hours after?" He asked, eyes narrowing when he saw his Captain smile.
"Like I said before, I did knock about seven times." With that she bowed one last time and with two of the guards that had followed them, went off to bring the Dwarves to her King.
Thranduil raised his brows as he watched her go. Tauriel was one of the many Elves who could be as formal to him as any one of his advisor's but treat him like an old friend the next second after. He appreciated her company in more ways then one and he was thankful she was around him when she wasn't on patrols.
He sat back on his throne as he waited for this company of Dwarves to arrive, his eyes closing. Somehow, he could already hear their foul curses as the guards grabbed them from the cells and pushed them forwards. He smiled to himself at that. It had been a long time since he had heard the tongue of Khuzdul and for some reason it made him feel a slight tingling in his heart.
Maybe it was because he had not seen another race for so long, his last encounter being with the Dwarves two hundred years ago and his last encounter with any Elf from Lothlórien and Imladris was at the funeral of Calina.
But maybe it could be that he already knew who these Dwarves were. Rumours had spread across the lands, a quest to the lonely mountain, a King wanting to reclaim his homeland. If it were who he thought it was then he was indeed in for a wonderful conversation.
He was broken out his thoughts when he heard the muttering of low voiced beings getting louder and louder. He re-opened his eyes and they instantly widened when he caught a familiar face at the front. Of course! He thought as he leaned forwards on his throne, a smile appearing as he said "Nae saian luume', Thorin Oakenshield."
"Does he insult us?!" One of the many Dwarves snapped (Thranduil being impressed by the speed he reacted), pointing his finger at him as the Elvenking held his smile, eyes never leaving that of the son of Thrain. "Just like that other Elf?!"
"But didn't that other Elf say he was gonna give us food?"
"And water!"
"He didn't say it very nicely tho'."
"He insulted us!"
"We should never trust a Woodelf!"
"Quite." Thorin hissed, his companions quieting immediately.
Thranduil watched with amusement, his smile never faltering "Now, now, I only said it has been too long."
"Too long since what? You watched our people get slaughtered and stood watching...?!"
"Kíli!" Thorin turned, facing a very young looking dwarf and cutting him off. "Keep your mouth shut." The young dwarf, Kíli, narrowed his eyes at Thorin but said no more.
"You seem to have a company that is indeed in need of some manners." Thranduil said. "Now, come, tell me why you are here within my forest? I have heard the whispers that my lands speak but yet you have the nerve to walk into my home uninvited."
"What whispers?" Thorin questioned
"Some may imagine that a Noble quest is at hand. A Quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself, suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk." Thranduil smiled.
"We were just passing through." The Elvenking saw through the lie instantly. "We ran out of food and water, got lost if I may be truthful."
"They only truthful thing I hear you speak is that you got lost, for my forest is indeed a maze of illusion." Thranduil tilted his head "Tell me the truth for I know you have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The King's jewel. The Arkenstone." As he made a quick glance to the other small beings, he could see them all shift, wanting to speak but not wanting to disobey their leader.
He was surprised when he saw Thorin scoff. "The whispers?"
Thranduil smirked. "The whispers."
"What is it that you want then?"
The ElvenKing raised his brows. Just like that, Thorin had seen through him just as well as he could see through the Dwarf. "I want information on the whereabouts of a certain Wizard. I know that Gandalf the Grey has spent the last two thousand years with your kin. I have been meaning to ask of him a favour."
"Why not ask the other, the brown one?" Thorin asked.
"He has long since departed these woods. He travels the world searching for a new home. I have not been able to send him word for I know not where he is." He said. "And before you ask... I have no intentions of asking the White Wizard for his help nor the other two."
Thorin nodded "So if I give you the whereabouts of Gandalf the Grey, you will free us?"
"You have my word. One King to another."
"And may I ask why, oh great Elvenking?" Thranduil ignored the sarcasm spewing from the Dwarf's mouth, not wanting to give him the pleasure. It seemed to work for his guards and Tauriel for their posture hardened and so had their eyes.
"You may not. My business is my own, I wish for you to honour that." Thranduil began to stand from his throne walking down the steps towards the company of thirteen. He suddenly saw how Thorin's face changed from slight anger, from being held prisoner, to rage in a matter of seconds.
"I would not honour anything of yours!" Thorin snapped. "I have seen how you treat your friends! We came to you once, starving, homeless; seeking your help." Thranduil took a step back, visible shocked by Thorin's outburst. "But you turned your back! You, turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us! Imrid amrad ursul!"
Thranduil's own rage soon took him over him and he found himself face to face with Thorin, words spewing from his mouth like venom "Do not talk to me of dragon fire! I know it's wrath and ruin." His face screwed up in pain as he showed the King-to-be his severally burnt cheek and sightless white eye. "I have faced the great serpents of the North." He took a step back, his magic concealing his wound that had still yet to heal after so long. "I know the power of which a dragon holds and I would not risk the lives of my own for such greedy being's such as yourselves. I didn't help your people for I had my own to protect."
Thranduil began to walk back up the steps towards his throne once more, looking down at each rage filled face. He stood, hand raised to signal for the guards to take the dwarves back to their cells but he froze when he heard the small mutterings of the Dwarf King. "What did you say?" His eyes widening, already hearing what Thorin had said but not wanting to believe.
"I said...Then why couldn't you protect your wife and son that day?"
Thranduil breathing began to grow heavy, eyes widening. "GET HIM OUT OF MY SIGHT!" He yelled just as he felt a wave of absolute pain fill his heart. He had never shouted with such anger in all his life. He sat heavily upon his throne, a hand gripping his robe tightly over his heart while his other covered his eyes, wanting to stop the tears that now began to flow.
Why had I not been there?
He is right.
I should have protected them...
I should have been there with them!
To protect them!
"My Lord!" Thranduil looked to the voice, seeing Tauriel kneeling besides him. He hadn't realised she had been calling his name all this time. She smiled sadly at him before the King felt himself being pulled into a hug, one in which he had not received in so many years. This caused his tears to fall more quickly, returning the hug and clinging onto Tauriel as if he felt his life might suddenly fade if she was not here with him in this moment in time.
-O-
"Kíli!"
Thranduil turned from where he was stood next to Kíli's bedside, watching as the Dwarf's elder brother, Fíli, come running into the room. He watched the blonde Dwarf take hold of his brother's hand, eyes wide with worry for the younger. "You idiot! I told you not to go off on your own." He said, seeing no movement from underneath those closed eyes.
It had been a little over a day since the Battle of Five armies, a name the men of Lake-Town had taken to call it, took place. They had received many causalities on their side while the Orcs, Goblins, Bats and Wargs all perished at their hands. Three of the enemies commanders were slain but the forth, however, escaped.
The price was high. Too high. They had moved back into the Lonely Mountain, each hall filled with make-shift beds to tend to the injured. There was so little healers that some of the injured were dead before any could be tended too.
Sadron had done his best in trying to heal the poor Dwarf King's nephew but there was little he could do when the young Dwarf was bleeding far too quickly due to the punctured lung. He had preformed healing magic upon Kíli, resowing the wound on the lung before Kíli could pass over to the Valar. It had taken a large amount of energy from the Elf as he had not preformed such magic in a short amount of time and quickly at that.
Fíli faced Thranduil, breath shaking as he asked "He's going to make it, isn't he?"
Thranduil could only shake his head slowly, eyes darkening with sadness. "The wounds your brother received are far too great for us to heal. Sadron, our head healer has done all he can. He has made your brother free from pain so he can rest peacefully."
"So he can die peacefully you mean to say!" The dwarf snapped.
"Fíli!" A shout came from the door. Thorin stood there with his arm wrapped in a sling, a cut above his brow and several other injuries that were hidden beneath his clothes. "That is enough." He said as he walked into the room, the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins behind him, and placed his uninjured hand upon his nephews shoulder. "They have done all they can for him."
Fíli let out a sob and turned back to his brother, kissing the back of the pale hand. Thranduil felt it reminded him of the time when he did the same thing to his dear wife. A small spark of pain filled his heart when he thought about Calina. The hole in his heart from her passing was still too large.
"What are his wounds?" Bilbo whispered as he took a chair on the other side of Kíli's still form, the Hobbit's eyes never leaving the youngest nephew of Thorin's chest, watching the slow rise and fall.
"He has lump at the back of his head, concussed." He said, beginning to recite the things Sadron had told him. "He received a stab wound to his left shoulder and lower abdomen."
"Valar." Fíli breathed.
Thranduil took a deep breath "His left lung was pierced by an arrow." The Elvenking unfolded the piece of cloth at the end of Kíli's bed. "An arrow from the land of Mordor." He heard gasps fill the chamber, all eyes now upon that of the red fletched arrow.
"Mordor was there as well?" Bilbo exclaimed, taking in the read feathers and black shaft, the rusted metal tip covered in specks of blood. Kíli's blood.
"Nay, they cannot have been." Thorin said "If they were there, we would have seen their banner."
"Indeed." Thranduil nodded "We would have been able to tell by the Orcs also, being them far stronger and fouler than the one's that came from Moria and Dol Guldur."
"Then where could this arrow of come from?" Fíli whispered, brows furrowing.
"There was one among their ranks who fired these arrows." The four within the room turned to face a very worn and tired looking Gandalf as the Istari entered the room, grey robes tattered and dirtied. "The armies forth commander."
"You mean the one who fled?" Bilbo said.
"Fled? Oh no, I do not believe one who could cause so much death in such a short amount of time would flee, Master Baggins." Gandalf stated. "I believe they were called back, being far too important to Sauron to stay there any longer."
A moan caught the attention of the occupants in the room, each set of eyes turning to Kíli's pale face as the Dwarf's breathing began to get slower and slower. Gandalf closed his eyes gently, sending a prayer to the Valar to watch over his soul and may it rest at ease, away from any pain. As he reopened them, he set his grey eyes upon Thranduil's.
Thranduil nodded to the Wizard, following the Istari out the room. He saw the rest of Thorin's company in the hallway, some trying to hold in their tears while others let them run freely. "You may go in." He heard Gandalf mutter to them, each Dwarf hastily walking into the room.
"Come." The Istari said, leading the Elvenking to a secluded part of Erebor where they would not be disturbed.
"What did you want to speak to me about?" Thranduil asked, watching the Wizard closely.
"I would like you to hear my apologies first." Gandalf said, lowering his head slightly.
"Apologies?" Thranduil furrowed his brow.
"Aye. I had heard from Lord Elrond that Lady Calina passed away. Being a dear friend, I was rotten and missed her send off." Gandalf lowered his head further into his chest.
"Nay, Mithrandir! Do not apologise. Such a long time has passed and I know a Wizard has a busy schedule. Please, mellon, there is no need. Come, let us talk about this later and tell me why it is you wish to speak to me." *Grey Pilgrim* *friend*
Gandalf raised his head and cleared out his throat before speaking "Thorin tells me you were looking for help, wanting information on my whereabouts." Gandalf said.
"Aye, aye that is very true. I need you to translate this for me." Thranduil searched his robe for the piece of parchment that he carried around with him everyday since that horrible night two thousand years ago. Never has he left his room or kingdom without it.
Gandalf took the parchment from him and immediately his eyes widened at what he saw. "This is..."
"Black speech, yes." Thranduil interrupted. "This was given to me a few minutes before Calina passed to the Halls of Mando's. I have not been able to find one to translate it, knowing there are not many out there that understand the language of Mordor."
Gandalf nodded and Thranduil watched his eyes re-read the words over and over and over again. Soon, the Wizard looked up at Thranduil, his eyes shining with deep sadness, "Tell me, Thranduil, King of the Woodelf's from the realm of Mirkwood, do you believe your son is still alive?"
The King, slightly taken back from his words, stuttered "I-I want to believe he is. I feel that he is, my heart tells me so."
"But...?"
"But my mind says otherwise." He sighed "He has been lost to me for so long, too long that I'm afraid he has perished at the hands of such cruel darkness. He was just ten months old Gandalf. There is little a young one like him could do at that age."
"Yes, you are indeed right old friend. However, for one that has not yet seen the world fully, there is potential for when one grows up."
Thranduil furrowed his brow "What?"
"Would you like to hear what this message says, my Lord?" Gandalf asked, looking down at the message from two thousand years ago. Thranduil nodded, breathing in deeply and readying himself for what was about to be read to him. Finally, after two thousand years, he finally got to hear what this dark message said.
ElvenKing of Mirkwood.
I have seen darkness beyond that of the depths of where Balrog's lie waiting.
I have seen what shall come to pass if your offspring where to be raise as a normal Elfling should.
I can not let that happen.
Just know this:
I will keep him alive but I will raise him as my own.
He will be tainted by the darkness, killing the innocent as I tell him to do so.
Your lands will never be safe.
The world will fall.
Into darkness and ruin.
-O-
It was TA 2941 on Autumn the eighth, when Kíli, son of Dís, brother to Fíli and Nephew to Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor, passed to the halls of his forefather's along with one thousand and eighty six others who lost their lives in the Battle of Five armies.
Their lives will surely not be forgotten.
-O-
SURPRISE, I'M BACK!
~ Mennai ento lúmë, namárië ~