I confess that not only am I ignorant in the language of Tolkien and fanfiction, but I'm also a coward and therefore it took much cajoling for me to post this story. Also, I should warn you that, due to my being an amateur young writer, I've completely destroyed the canon universe and littered the space with OC's.

I do not own, nor am I making any profit from anything written here.

Prologue

The First blow

A silver curtain of silk whispered a caress on each sides of her cheeks and a shadow dimed the light behind her lids. It was this foreign sensation coupled with the velvet timbre of, 'who are you?' That prompted mismatched pools of purple and green to reveal their depths to the young prince. He was towering over her form on the forest floor, a slender waist donned in the finest threads canting forward for further inspection.

Upon seeing her eyes, his own stormy ones widened, infinitesimally belying his stoic patina. "Does your tongue not respond to your brain? Or…is it that you are as deficient as you look?"

The only response Thranduil received was a baffled blink that had him draw his dagger, 'no matter,' he murmured with a false sweetness while balancing the blade so that it was angled towards her. 'If it is incentive you need…I'll be more than willing to oblige,' he finished with a scathing smirk while simultaneously pressing the tip of his blade in the hollow of her slender neck.

'Thranduil!' His mother's reprimanding tone halted his hand, a tiny bead of blood the only evidence of the break of her fragile flesh. 'Please explain,' she began as she drew near, 'why you've turned your weapon upon your kin?'

Thranduil reeled back. Eyes darting from the stranger to his mother, 'you know her?'

'Do I need to, in order for you to feel some semblance of remorse?' Her hand came to rest on his broad shoulder, 'do you not regret turning your weapon on one of our own,' she paused briefly for his benefit so that he may behold what his eyes were blinded to before. Peeking out of unruly raven curls were two pointed tips similar to that of his own Sindarin heritage, 'a defenceless elleth no less,' she finished.

Thranduil felt a slight stirring of shame that was swiftly squashed before it could show on his smooth face. 'I've never seen an elleth of this,' here both mother and son looked down upon said elleth, 'particular colouring,' he stated in lieu of an apology. With one last withering look, his mother turned to address the wild looking elleth who was now on her feet, briskly straightening out her deep green velvet gown. 'I apologise on behalf of my impertinent son,' his mother offered her one of her winning smiles, 'albeit a quality that ails many young elflings, wouldn't you agree?'

There was a pregnant pause that passed without a single reply from the stranger, yet his mother easily dismissed the awkwardness that followed with her pleasant ambiance. 'I am Nemirel, daughter of Edenor, wife of Oropher and queen of Amon Lanc,' she placed her right hand upon her chest and inclined her head slightly in the customary elvish greeting of respect. 'And my sole child, prince Thranduil.' The elleth's mismatched eyes trailed from his mother's to his and lingered there in a manner that deeply disconcerted him. He felt vulnerable pinned under her penetrating gaze that looked past his mask and reached the very core of his fea, accusing him of what they found there.

The dark haired elleth's dainty hand rose to emulate the gesture, albeit with a strange unnaturalness that Thranduil couldn't quite put a name to for he became distracted by what he spied in his peripheral. It vanished before he could truly comprehend it, but he thought he'd seen a glimpse of an angry pink scar in the centre of her inner wrist.

'Luthien, ward of Callon,' she spoke in a soft lilt and removed from her long sleeve a crumpled envelope that she then presented to his mother. 'I neither see nor sense your entourage,' his mother remarked as she accepted the parchment, 'surely my cousin did not send you without an escort?' At this, her eyes finally faltered, 'my horse became redundant a few miles from here,' she put plainly, oblivious to the identical looks of disbelief on their faces.

'You would have us believe that not only did you make your own way here from Lorien, but half way through you continued on foot?' He sneered at her, although not without repercussion for he was well aware of his mother's disapproving glare.

'I found a friend that was kind enough to offer his help,' she said looking at a point past his shoulder.

Thranduil witnessed the same strangeness from before cast a film over her face, yet somehow…it was different. Pert red lips spoke of a smile playing at their corners, creating a ghost of creases on each side of the cherry shape. Rosy cheeks sang softly a surreptitious song of delight that the eyes danced with a flickering light. So lost was he in contemplation of the beauty burned forever in his memory, that his crumbling composure almost ceased to exist at the sight of the great creature that emerged from behind.

A mass of fur and colossal antlers languidly trotted towards the elleth who greeted him by placing her forehead on the space between the creature's eyes, and petting the white pelt on its cheeks. There wasn't a single sound exchanged between them but somehow their embrace spoke of a melange of camaraderie and solace.

'How endearing, I'd never thought I'd see a friendship between an elf and an elk,' his mother took a step towards them, 'may I?' She asked Luthien with a hand outstretched in the creature's direction.

'I do not think it wise to trust the beast of a wild character,' Thranduil warned, his hand itched to take hold of his blade.

'I assure you…the feeling is mutual,' the elleth replied with venom, something that threw him off for he did not expect, nor had he ever been spoken to as such.

His retort was swallowed by his father's deep laughter, 'I feared the two of you were spirited by some beast,' he set his sharp eyes on Luthien and the elk she was clutching by the neck, its body shielding her from his father, 'I'm glad that they're beasts of no consequence.'

Internally, a part of him cringed at his father's lack of decorum, the rest however, was pleased with both his father's presence and words; it cleared his mind of its previous fog. Now that he'd regained complete lucidity, his ire was minutely satisfied at the wench's cowering, though he promised himself that he'd repay her for her audacity.

'Oropher please, she is callon's ward,' his mother tried to salvage the situation, 'she brings word from Lorien.'

Intrigued, his father gestured for her to continue, 'Amroth and the council have accepted your request regarding Erebor, they are stationed not far from here, if it pleases you; they will arrive on the morrow.'

Something sinister pulled at his father's lips as he considered her words, 'and what do they want in return?'

He looked to his mother when she failed to answer, on her brow he found fear and worry, '…for you to accommodate possible suitors for Thranduil in Amon Lanc.'

Both ellon's eyebrows rose, although for Thranduil it was out of annoyance, while his father appeared a mix between shocked and amused, 'is that all? I suppose I should count my blessings,' he met his father's slate eyes. 'Don't look so put out son, you are only 15,000. I won't force you to marry any of them,' his eyes drifted to Luthien, 'especially if they are anything like this slip of a…elleth? You're not of the suitors are you?'

The elk nuzzled its nose on the side of her face in a comforting manner, sensing the distress that lay beneath a mask of indifference, 'I am only the messenger,' she bowed slightly before adding, 'your highness.'

'Indeed. Tell Amroth that I'll have his favourite wine prepared for his arrival,' and with that his father had already dismissed her, 'come,' he took his mother's arm in his and headed towards the city entrance while Thranduil trailed behind.

Before the gates fully closed, Thranduil looked back to see the elleth ride off to where she came on the back of the shimmering elk, he was certain that their paths would cross again; after all...he was not one to forget a promise.

Thank you for reading, I apologise for the ambiguity, but I think it's necessary and the length of the first chapter will hopefully be longer...