Alright, so, I know, this is silly, no one ever wanted this crossover, but hey, maybe I'll just leave it at the prologue and call it a day.
Anyways.
I own neither of these universes and no characters, and I'm not making any profit. I just woke up one day and thought, what if Ellie turned out to be Thranduil's wife? Then realised it was what no one else wanted to know, but wrote it anyway. I'm really selling it, aren't I?
Forget everything I've just said.
"Thranduil"
Her voice rings in his very core, shaking him from sleep.
Galadriel.
"Have patience for the Returned, for they forgot what they've returned to, but not what they've returned from."
It is not the first time she gives him this message, but her voice is sounding more urgent each time. Pressing. Insisting. Feverish. At first, the Elven King believes it is about Legolas, recently returned from battle, is his mind forever scarred by what he's seen? As the Lady of Light's messages return, again and again, more and more, louder and louder, Thranduil understands it is not about his son, though he knows not who else it could possibly be about.
Tauriel?
Her grief has shattered her, and he fears for her welfare. Did she truly love the Dwarf, to the point of not returning from his death? He sits with her, listens when she wishes to speak, remains silent when there is nothing to say. Legolas takes over when he leaves. Tauriel has faded a bit, she who used to be the brightest colour in the forest. Her lips are pale, her hair is darkened. There is no longer the same grace to her step. Yet, she lives, and if her eyes stare into nothing they still see, life is not completely drained from her. She may yet return from this.
"Have patience, patience for the Returned." Says Galadriel.
He is nothing if not patient with Tauriel. Why would the Lady of Lorien feel the need to want him so?
"They forgot what they've returned to." This does not apply to Tauriel, nor does it apply to Legolas.
"Not what they've returned from."
He questions her, but only her repeated warnings come. So, Thranduil shows patience, and he waits, waits for the Returned.
"Thranduil!"
The voice shouts him awake, desperate, panicked, and the Elven King sits up in his bed, his breathing harsh and laboured.
"The Returned!" Presses Galadriel.
Thranduil stands, puts on his robe and grabs a sword.
"The Returned!" Begs Galadriel, "she is returned!"
The words are tangled in his head, almost too loud to allow him to walk. He paces down the corridor, a hand on the wall to steady himself, and he stops only when he reaches his son's chambers.
"Legolas" he calls, quietly, for he knows his son is not likely to be asleep.
Legolas wakes just before dawn, just like his mother used to.
The door open and the Prince steps out.
"Take your bow," commands the King. "Take your bow and follow me."
"The river, Thranduil, she is returned!" Calls Galadriel, so loud it makes him flinch.
The two elves leave, ignoring the guards' puzzled looks as they pass by, and they walk into the woods, their pace fast and assured. Thranduil leads the way, two fingers pressed to his temple in an effort to numb the pain Galadriel's warnings are causing him.
"The river" she says, and everything is tangling into a nearly inaudible flow, "the returned, it is she, the returned, have patience!"
These last two words are whispered and shouted, they plead and they command, they beg and they scold and they stop only when he reaches the water.
The river is black, and calm, and vicious. There is not a sound to be heard.
Thranduil looks at the dark waters, as still as a mirror. He sees nothing. Patience.
"Father?" Questions Legolas. When he fails to get a response, the Prince insists: "I have heard her warnings too."
Thranduil is surprised. Shouldn't a son share this kind of information with his father? His only remaining family?
"I have heard the Lady Galadriel's warnings too. I believed them to be about Tauriel."
"So did I."
They stand still for a few moments, but the woods are dark and still and the river is unchanged. The warnings have stopped.
Thranduil shakes his head, makes to turn around.
It is but a flash, something pale and dead, in the water, it appears briefly out the corner of his eye, but he sees it. One look at the water, and he sees it. The Returned. Thranduil takes a step closer, and he sees her.
A pale face, grey as death, purple lips, the great mane of hair he's admired so.
His knees betray him, and his body shakes as he falls, holding out his arms to retrieve his beloved from the poisonous waters.
"Sîrriel!" The cry escapes him, and it is the most emotion he has expressed in a long time. His hands break the black mirror and grasp at the dead Queen, and he pulls her to him, she is cold and still and he cries and calls her name. The shock is so great that Thranduil fails to hear Galadriel as the Lady of Light begs him once more, her tone apologetic:
"Thranduil, have patience, patience for the Returned, for they forgot what they've returned to, but not what they returned from."