Disclaimer: If I owned any of Tolkien's works, I wouldn't be writing "fanfiction". One can always hope, though...*goes back to tracing family trees*. Seriously though, only the host of OCs in this fic actually belong to me.

Hello guys! It has been a long time (three years) since I actually posted this fic, but I've decided to edit and re-post it as part of a challenge to get me writing again. There was a time when I would write constantly but for the fast 12 months I've written absolutely nothing. Now I need something to ease me back into it, thus this fic was reborn! I hope you enjoy it!
Please let me know what you think in a review, whether it is good or bad, you have some advice/criticism, or help with my Sindarin – which is dismal at best. I'm also looking for a beta reader, if anyone is interested? That alone might keep me writing...I have a tendency to let my lack of confidence get me down. Thanks!

Prologue

Two beautiful ladies knelt in a glade in the forest. The first lady was silver-haired and slender, with a merry face and laughing eyes. The second lady was tall and lithe. Long silver hair hung in an intricate braid down to the small of her back. Her skin was pale, but healthy; the sunlight, dappled by the canopy of the forest, seemed to make her skin shimmer. She was clad in a simple green dress with no adornment beyond simple embroidery, and she knelt on the damp earth in pursuit of a small flower.

Lostariel forced her small shovel into the earth. The plant before her was perfect, and though it may not have liked being uprooted, she desperately wanted it for her garden. The elf sighed and rocked back into a kneeling position casting a smile at the little boy playing next to her. So absorbed in his game was he that he did not notice. Instead he let out a pretend warrior cry and moved his archers through the forest floor, his stuffed pony Mellon at his side. She smiled anyway. Her son was nearly five now, and doing as well as he should be; he could speak well, he had learned to run before he could walk and had a very creative imagination, though he had almost no friends to share it with. He had been born in dark times, and the few other elflings in Eryn Galen were much older than him. It's a pity, she thought, turning her attention back to the plant whose roots were still firmly embedded in the soil before her. When I was a child I never lacked company. There was always my friends and I, who ran almost wild through the corridors of Menegroth. Lostariel smiled at the memories, of her friends, of Thranduil when they were young. She stopped to watch her son again, as if by thinking of his adar she had to check that he was still here too. He was. She almost joined in with him as he threw back his tiny head and laughed because her friend was tickling him. She stared at his flaxen hair, whipping back and forth as he shook his head.
"No! Nana, tell her to stop!" The little boy shouted, wriggling away from Faelwen, snatching up Mellon and toddling over to Lostariel, who sat him on her lap.
"Hush, little one! Calm down and listen to the trees." The song of the trees always made him go quiet. From the moment he was born the trees had called to him. He loved them as much as his parents. With Mellon tightly clasped to his chest he crawled over to the base of a large oak tree and, closing his eyes, sank into the embrace of the old tree, which began an entirely different song just for the entertainment of its new friend. A happy smile played on the elfling's lips. Faelwen let out a quiet laugh.
"He's a sweet child, Lostariel. I never saw any better. He truly is a credit to you and Aran Thranduil." A bubble of pride blew itself up inside of her, and she was about to thank her old friend when she was interrupted.
"Nana? What is that?" Her child bounced excitedly up and down in her lap and thrust his miniature fist out towards one of the plants. She followed the finger with her eyes.
"That, ion nin, is a butterfly. It is very pretty, is it not?" The elfling nodded his head vigorously.
"Yes! Its blue, and green, and black! Can we take it home, nana?" He turned his lovely blue eyes on her. His eyes were definitely his adar's. Lostariel and Faelwen both smiled down at him with expressions of love and adoration.
"No, we can't. You see, tithen pen, this glade we sit in is its home. It wouldn't want to be separated from the place it is used to. Besides, they are very difficult to catch."
"Oh." The boy's face fell for a second, but as soon as it fell it was lit back up.
"Can I go look for more, nana?" She nodded and saw him tear off as fast as his little legs could bear him, Mellon in tow. Her thoughts lingered on the butterfly for a second, and then she spotted a particular type of plant, one that she had been after for quite some time. She gathered her tools and moved over to the plant. She was so caught up in her work that she didn't notice the time fly by.
"Lostariel! Where's Legolas?" She raised her head sharply, immediately scanning the surrounding area for a flash of gold, a quickly stifled mischievous giggle, any sign of her son. There was none to be found.
"Legolas? Where are you, tithen pen?" No answer. A lump established its presence in her throat. Faelwen promptly took up the shout and began to search the trees around the glade. "Legolas? Game over! Come back to nana!" But still there was no sweet voice. Her panic began to mount as she paced through the forest, shouting for her elfling. Faelwen followed some two or three meters behind, but Lostariel wasn't stopping. She had to find Legolas. How far could one little elfling have gone? Her chest constricted.
"LEGOLAS!"
Silence. Her scream had been met by silence. And then, as if all her frantic prayers to the Valar had been answered...
"Nana! I found a really beautiful butterfly! Come and see!" Relief flooded through every bone, every vein, in her body and she slid gracefully to the ground beside her son, whose gaze was fixed avidly on a butterfly with delicate violet wings. Her heart began its tune once more as her lungs drew in a great breath of air. She snatched him up in what would've been a selfish way had she not just thought she'd lost him, and swung him round once before clutching him tight like a lifeline. He was her lifeline.
"Yes," She laughed breathlessly, "it is beautiful. Well done! Though perhaps next time you will not stray so far from the glade in your mighty search, hmm?" She caught Faelwen's eye as she put her son down and they shared a quick smile. When she looked back down, Legolas had picked up Mellon and was hugging him again. He gazed up at her and shook his head slowly. Lostariel fought hard to fight back tears of relief and joy. She should have known he would wander off.
"No nana. I'll stay close." She smiled at him, satisfied, and Faelwen led them back in the direction of the glade. Though the incident was over in less than five minutes, it had seemed like an eternity, and one she wouldn't forget for a while at that.
"Nana?"
"Yes?" Lostariel glanced down at Legolas, who was crushing Mellon against his chest. His perfect little face was scrunched up in a confused expression. But she saw fear there too, and when her elfling's bottom lip began to tremble she frowned.
"What is it, tithen pen?" He glanced around himself warily, as if they were being watched.
"The trees. They are different. I don't understand." Now that she listened properly, Lostariel could hear it too. It was a whisper, a hoarse, scraping sound that was unnatural for a tree.

It was the voice of fear.

The trees spoke of danger heading towards them on swift feet, bringing death with them. Lostariel saw that her friend understood too; Faelwen's face was as pale as her silver hair. She placed the palm of her hand against the nearest tree trunk. Immediately the ancient beech told her to take her little one and fly. She did just that.
"Come, ion nin. Come!" She took hold of his hand and lifted him into her arms. With a glance at Faelwen, who nodded once, she began to run as fast as she could. The forest was a blur of greens and browns as she ran, so that it seemed as though the trees themselves were racing her, instead of the other way around. She could almost have believed it if it weren't for the aching burn beginning to form at the back of her throat. Panic was making her breathless just as much as running. Legolas knew as well as she what the trees said; he just didn't know about the dangers of the world. All she could think about were the agitated groans all around her, steadily rising in volume until it seemed as though the trees were screaming at them to go faster, to flee the coming dark. What evil was following? Orcs were easily lost, for their tracking skills were of no use if the intended prey was seeking the safety of the trees. But spiders...

Faelwen screamed. There was a thud from behind them and a screeching sound that Lostariel was certain was not the trees. Legolas's grip on her neck tightened into a strangle hold.
"Nana!" Instinctively placing her hand across her child's eyes, she whipped around. Faelwen lay still on the ground. Blood pulsed from some hidden back injury. Shelob's offspring were unique; they were more the size of grown horses than your average spider, in various cases larger, though the principle characteristics still remained intact. It was such a monster that had felled Lostariel's best friend. It towered over her corpse, sting still buried deep. Panic and despair flared and adrenaline hit a high as Lostariel launched herself forwards once more. An angry shriek and a snarl seemed to ring in her ears. She knew that the spider was hunting them. Nothing but weapons could counter it. She shifted her arms and felt her son curl up even more, shoving his head into her shoulder and burying his face in her dress. His whimpers were muffled by the fabric. "Hush, ion nin. Don't worry, it'll be over soon." She tried to soothe him, to do a naneth's job, but the words came out as breathless pants. Branches seemed to snatch and grab at her whereas just this morning they had been as friendly as ever. Paths wound around and treacherous roots tried to trip her up. Her breath caught in her lungs and even her survival instinct couldn't force it out. A knot had formed in her stomach and it now slithered up to her heart, where it twisted and writhed like a snake intent on squeezing the life out of her. She forced her trembling legs to pick up the pace. She knew it would end one way or the other. If none of the patrols had caught sight of the spider, then there was only the one solution. She would die. Not her son, though. No. There was surprisingly little emotion as she though if this. Certainly no second thoughts. It was a naneth's obligation to protect her child, and through primal instinct she would to just that. If there was any regret at all for her choice of action it was that she'd had so little time to spend with Thranduil and her baby.
She realized that the spider had gained on her and she had very little time to spare. She quickly scanned her surroundings again, looking desperately for somewhere, anywhere that would shelter her child.
"Look, here!" Lostariel skidded to a halt and jogged to a large oak tree with a hole in its trunk. Just big enough for Legolas. "Listen here, ion nin." She gently thrust her elfling into the sanctuary the trees offered. "I need you to play a game for me."
"But I don't w-" Branches snapped, closer and closer. She cut him off. She didn't want to; she'd never tire of hearing that golden voice. But this was urgent.
"Nana needs you to be very brave for her, okay?" Her voice shook and she tried to calm herself, but to no avail. More screeching. There was more than one. "You have to be very quiet, like a mouse, only you're not allowed to move. Be still, and cover your ears and close your eyes. We're going to see who can do it for the longest, alright?" He nodded and obediently shut his mouth and placed tiny hands over his ears, one arm still wrapped tight around Mellon, though fear still shone bright in open eyes. Then their light was blocked out, too.

Swallowing reflexively, she thanked the tree, which had drawn its roots closer round Legolas. She had to do this. To be brave for him. Thranduil had told her before Legolas was even born that he'd sacrifice his life for his child. She had replied immediately with the same words. Now, a time had come for her to do so.
She turned around to face the gigantic black mass of bristly flesh and glinting black eyes. She stood her ground, head held high, though inside her thoughts were only for her little boy. It clicked at her, stomping its spindly forelegs in eager anticipation. On the slight breeze that lifted suddenly, Lostariel whispered her last goodbyes. Then, as other spiders bounded through the trees, it screeched and pounced.

The trees screamed.

XXXXXXX

The tiny elfling braced his legs against the tree's roots and forced his body further into the tree. It was a natural instinct-to get as far away from danger as possible, and trees equalled safety for wood elves. His innocent young mind had absolutely no idea what it was that had been chasing them, only that its screech resounded evil in his pure heart. It had caught Faelwen. But he hadn't the time to dwell on that, for the intensity of the trees' screams both shocked him and pained him to the very core of his fea. Never before had he heard any living thing in such agony. Then there was another shriek, like Faelwen's. He tried desperately not to whimper. Nana, what's happening? Where are you?

The elfling waited and waited, until the trees ceased their cries and resumed their normal sounds. The oak tree relaxed its roots around him and groaned exhaustedly. He took his hands away from his ears and placed them on Mellon. He heard elves talking outside. They sounded sad, and were discussing evil spiders. His nana's name made him start. He unclenched his eyes and stared straight into the face of an ancient elf.

XXXXXXX

Suiadan was both shocked and scared by the death of his queen. The scene his company had stumbled upon had hit them all hard, and that was just the beginning. Shockwaves would run through Eryn Galen. And Thranduil...
How will the king cope? The loss of family wasn't exactly alien to Thranduil, Suiadan knew; he had been born in the generation before Thranduil, and as a friend and mentor, had watched him grow up. This will hit him hard. Too hard. Maybe enough to...Suiadan shook his head sharply. He could not allow himself to think like that. The elves in his company swiftly covered the queen's face with a cloak and they stood around her, bowing their heads and paying their respects as was customary.

A small whimper broke the silence. The elves spun round, searching for the cause of the sound. One ellon pointed to an ancient beech the other side of the clearing. The entire company gazed at it. There was a hole in the trunk...a hole small though for an elfling? Suiadan jumped up and fairly sprinted to the tree, followed by his companions. Suiadan fell to his knees and stared into the mouth of the hole. He found himself looking straight into the shocking blue eyes of a little boy. He was crouched in the shelter of the trunk, terrified and clutching a soft toy. Even though he had been expecting it, the sudden appearance of the child shocked him. After a few moments he regained the use of his voice.
"Are you alright, Legolas? Are you hurting anywhere?" The young prince shook his head. Strands of gold fell elegantly across his pale face. He looked so like his adar. Still stunned at having found the son of the King in the middle of the forest with his dead naneth only a few feet away, Suiadan yanked his head back out of the hole long enough to hiss barely audible orders at his men.
"Make a litter; we cannot linger here too long. Keep watching the trees for spiders." No sooner had he returned his head to the hole he heard Legolas' voice. It was so thin, so quiet...completely unlike the normal voice of the elfling. His sensitive ears barely heard it.
"Where's nana?" Suiadan gulped nervously. What would one say to an elfling in such a situation?
"Umm, she's sleeping, tithen pen."
"I want to see her." Legolas' voice was muffled; he had buried his head in the stuffed toy. Suiadan felt a hand on his shoulder and withdrew from the hole. One of his soldiers, Bregolas, replaced him. Bregolas would be better off dealing with this, he thought. He had two of his own, though they were far older now.
"Legolas, tithen pen, do you want to come out? It's nice and warm out here, and the nasty monsters are gone." There was the sound of shuffling and scraping, and Bregolas finally stood with the little elfling and his toy safe in his arms, to the quiet cheers of the other warriors.
"You're sure they are gone?" His eyes darted around nervously, never settling on any one thing. The presence of so many unfamiliar faces couldn't have helped, either.
"Yes, I'm sure. We made them go ourselves. That's what we do. It's our job." At this statement the prince seemed to come alive.
"Really?"
"Really." Suiadan looked around and saw that many of his men had stopped doing their tasks to watch their prince. "Do you want to play a game whilst we're getting ready to leave?" Legolas thought about saying yes, that was obvious. But then his tiny brow creased and a shadow of worry crossed his face.
"I'm already playing a game, with nana." Bregolas shot him a fearful glance. How much should they reveal? Suiadan cleared his throat. All eyes in the clearing focused on him. He focused his own on Bregolas, hoping that he would explain what he so desperately wanted to avoid. Bregolas merely shook his head ever so slightly and sat down, placing the elfling on the floor and holding his hand.
"Do not worry, little prince. We can play our own game, can we not? I'm sure your naneth wouldn't mind." He did his best to engage the prince in a game invented swiftly out of tossing stones. Little more than a few paces away, the other ellyn lifted the queen's body onto a hastily constructed litter. The breeze caught the cloak shrouding the queen's face, and blew it loose.
As soon as he saw her Legolas tugged his hand free and ran to his naneth, the person who had given her life for his own, though he knew it not.
"Nana! Nana? The game's over now. Nana!" The hope in the elfling's voice quickly gave way to fear and desperation. Suiadan felt a slight prickling in the corners of his eyes. He knew that the others had tears in their eyes too. For all the elfling's attempts to wake her were in vain. They knew their queen's spirit had already fled.
"Nana!"

Ai, Valar. What was he going to tell Thranduil?