Author's Note!

This is my first EVER published story, thing. Please, be patient with me. I'm working on becoming...decent.

Also, Tolkien is the man. Not I. I wish I came up with a character as amazing as Thranduil!

Do not Talk to Me of Dragon Fire

"If only they knew. If they could just understand all that I have lost," he thought. Thranduil had long since retired to his chambers, after having sent Thorin Oakenshield back to his cell in the dungeons.

He had not thought about her in many days...but sometimes words brought a bittersweet smile to his face- a memory came back to him, one that he longed to repress, but could never truly escape.

"I go now to my ancestors whomever they may be, my King. My love. Please watch over our son, love him, protect him. Do not let him become like we are." she rasped, grasping Thranduil's hand.

Through his tears and fear of the charred thing his wife has now become, he spoke looking into her eyes:

"I promise Glineth. He will be the best of us."

" We must now part, Thranduil. I leave you my son, my heart, and my spirit."

"It will be forever and a day until we meet again, my Queen."

Glineth smiled, and a tear fell down her charred cheek. "I am patient. I can wait."

He gave his wife a soft kiss on her burnt, cracked lips, and gathered what was left of his Queen, and held her as she breathed her last. He let out a cry that echoed through the valley, one filled with enough pain to last an age. The sound of his cry was carried over the mountains, being heard by all in his realm. Their Queen was gone.

It is said of Thranduil that the passing of Glineth forever changed him, and that of Mirkwood.

Chapter One: From Father, to Son.

A drained Thranduil sat upon his wooden throne, his face in his hands. He was so deep into his thoughts, that he did not hear his son approach.
Legolas went to one knee and knelt before the throne and put hishand on his father's knee. Thranduil stirred, and said with unopened eyes; "What is it my son? You should be resting, you leave for Ithilien quite soon."

"It is nothing Father, I was going to ask you the same. Are you well?" he asked.
Thranduil sighed and looked at his son and thought " He is the shadow of his mother." "My mind is not at will never know peace."

In an attempt to lighten the mood of his father Legolas laughed, "Has it ever been at peace, father?!"
In less than a second, Thranduil had his face millimeters from his son's. Legolas pulled away from him, but his father had taken his arm.
"Here, youngling, come with me. There is much you have yet to learn. Your ignorance shames me." He spat.

Legolas bowed his head and followed his father into a study, filled from ceiling to floor with books of all sizes, on every subject. Confused, Legolas asked, "Why are we here, father?"

" To remember. Have you forgotten her so easily? Did she mean nothing to you? Do you not think of her with your every other thought? No, I thought not. You should be thankful that the smell of her burnt flesh does not linger on you, that her cries of agony do not echo in your mind. I hope you never know the horror of seeing the flesh you once loved and held in the moonlight, turned to a blackened, weeping, heap. It is time you knew you knew your mother. It is time for them all to know. She cannot be forgotten."

Legolas was frightened by the sudden fire,anguish,and tears, in the eyes of his father. Too frightened to speak he sat on a couch near his father and waited for the pain to dull for the both of them.

Suddenly and swiftly, Thranduil moved to a large cabinet in the back of the room. It was covered by a cloth, which he removed quickly.

"Come, my son. Look upon the face of your mother." he said in an unsteady voice.

Legolas rose from the couch and nervously made his way to the side of his father. Once there, Thranduil put his arm upon his shoulder and turned him to face a very old portrait. He quickly summoned his courage and looked at the portrait. She was unmistakably beautiful. He could not miss it. He saw his own eyes, alight with joy, looking back at him. He saw that her lips were curled into a teasing smiling, as if she were welcoming him. She had the same light, near white hair as he and his father and the same toned, lithe body. There was a certain look about her that unnerved him, a certain "wildness" about her. Who was this being?

As Thranduil observed his son look at the portrait of his mother, he could not help but feel some sort of peace. He knew that now was the time. Legolas needed the truth, before he was called to his destiny.

At last Legolas spoke: "I am ready. I need to know. "

The Elvenking smiled, and went back to the cabinet. He put his hand on the portrait of the late Glineth, and pulled a red and silver book from a shelf on the inside of the cabinet. He also pulled out a small silver brooch, in the shape of a spider, it's delicate limbs were curled, forming a wreath around it's body. It was the first thing he saw of this being that had taken his heart captive so long ago. He turned to his son, and put the book and brooch in his hands.

"The brooch. It was your mothers. It is yours now. I will leave you to your reading. I will be in my chambers, if you should have any questions."

Legolas nodded at his father, his emotions making it too difficult for him to speak. He took the long route to his chamber, excited for, but dreading what he will learn within the pages of this book. The book of a forgotten queen.

A/N:
This is my very first story, my very first chapter. I know it's not the best thing in the world, but I promise, I'll get better with time and practice. This has been something that has long been on my mind. I'm glad to finally get this out there. I do owe thanks to a very good friend of mine, who lit a fire under my butt to get this going! 3