Once again dear readers have your tissues ready. My apologies for having this chapter a tad short but please enjoy it all the same. :)


Thranduil sat alone in his study. He had remained in there for days now, he neither slept nor ate. How skin had become paler than normal, and his pale blue eyes, once beautiful, now red from his tears.

"My lord..."

Thranduil did not answer.

"My lord Gandalf the Grey has come. He wishes to speak with you-" the guard was cut off when the old gray Wizard placed a hand on his head telling him that all was well. The guard gave a nod before he left them alone.

"Thranduil..." he called to him as he took his place in a chair in front of the king. "Thranduil what has become of you?"

Once more he did not answer, his words had become lost to him. Only his tears were the answered Gandalf needed. "Thranduil...you must break from this. You have a son who needs you. He is but five years he needs you now more than ever since Lothel-"

"Do not..." Thranduil finally spoke "Do not utter her name."

"Why? Because it beings to much pain? You must embrace the pain and accept what has happened."

"I...I tracked those monsters down...I had them slain for what they did..." His anger and pain dripping from his every word. "Those creatures are the filth of this world..." His face twisted in anger "I should have them all slain and killed. Finally would rid this world of their evil." He hated orcs with an even greater passion than he had before. He would have loved nothing more than to be on a horse right now killing them all than sitting here and feeling the pain of his loss.

"And how do you think Legolas feels? You lost your wife, he lost his mother. He is grieving just as you are."

"How are you even alive old man?" He asked somewhat snapping at the wizard.

"Wizards take many versions of themselves over their long lives. We live as long as the world needs us alive. Thranduil...go to your son. Comfort each other live for Valors sake. Lothelinda would weep at the sight of the two of you like this." Gandalf sighed heavily before rising from his chair to look out the window at the forest. "The flowers have returned early...a sign of good and happiness to come."

Thranduil closed his eyes more tears falling from his eyes as he now lay hunched over in his chair. His shoulders shaking his his heartbroken sobs. Gandalf walked over placing his hands on the shaking shoulders of the Elf King. "It will all be alright." Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small figure.

Legolas stood there huddled in the doorway. He watched his father cry over the loss of his beloved mother. "A...Ada?" He called out softly in a small voice before he ran over. Gandalf watched the boy attempt to embrace his father's weeping form.

The boy was almost an exact copy of the king.

He placed a soothing hand on the boys pale locks "All will be well young one." Legolas brought his head up before wrapping his small arms around the old Wizards neck.

"If you have great magic...please...please bring Naneth back."

"I am sorry dear Legolas but...I am afraid that magic is beyond me. Magic to bring back the dead even for a good reason...it is dark magic." Legolas looked on at him with wide eyes before he hugged his father once more.

Slowly Gandalf left watching father and son grieve together.

That night the nightmares had returned to the kings mind. He had spared his son the details of his mother's death, while he endured them every night.

'Thranduil!'

He tossed and turned trying to drown out her screams in his ears. He saw her body there in the woods. Her beautiful dress torn and stained with blood.

'Thranduil!'

"LOTHELINDA!" He cried out jerking from his bed drenched in sweat. He got up and all but ran to his balcony doors throwing them open. He needed air, he felt as though he couldn't breath in there. Once on the balcony his hands gripped the stone railing as he gasped lung fulls of air.

'My husband...Melamin...'

'Amin hiraetha' he muttered over and over as his tears fell like rain. Thranduil sat down on the floor his head resting against the railing of the balcony. His soft sobs echoing into the night.

"Amin hiraetha Melamin."


Translations:

Melamin: My love

Amin hiraetha: I'm sorry