This chapter is to nyx thranduilion, who has faithfully read and reviewed many(if not all) of the chapters of this story. It sort of went a bit overboard, so I used two prompts. :-)
Legolas squinted at the target in dismay. "I can't hit that! Naneth, I think I'm too short." His mother laughed. She handed him and arrow and helped the little prince to position his arrow properly.
"Breathe in, breathe out, shoot," she chanted, her son following her directions. He jumped up and down with glee.
"I hit the target! Did you see that?" The Prince of Mirkwood threw his arms around his mother, grinning.
Legolas drew back three arrows, angling each toward a different target. Breathe in, breathe out, shoot, he thought. The arrows thudded deeply into their targets. The elf wrenched each one out, then shot again. And again. He only stopped when the sun had sunk below the horizon.
He could still remember her voice from just days ago, the light in her eyes. Now, she was worse than gone to him. As he returned to his father's caverns, he sighed at the faint and grating screams echoing from far away.
"Well, you've got to let me do something! The shadow is coming, yet you remain aloof and alone. What happens when you're the only king left to a kingdom, Thranduil?"
"Where are you going- Wait, Laithen!" But she had gone. Thranduil sighed inwardly, guessing that his wife would cool off in time. She often plagued him about his cold demeanor toward other lands. She would return. So the Elvenking went down to dine with his son.
"Father," Legolas greeted, stiff as usual. The two ate silently, terse and uncomfortable. Finally, Thranduil rose, his son following suit.
When morning came, Laithen was still absent. Thranduil summoned his counsellors, a knot of fear rising. "Have you seen Laithen?" A sleepy elf jumped at his sharp tone, and a couple looked bored. But many people had loved the gentle queen and were concerned as well.
Before long, Thranduil had found a group of ten of his greatest warriors and two trackers. Before setting of, he counted them and found thirteen.
"Legolas, stay here."
"If Naneth is in danger, I will go to her."
"You will remain here." There was true steel in the king's voice, and his son obeyed reluctantly. The group of twelve rode off, leaving a forlorn and worried elf behind.
"The tracks lead here?" The "here" in question was an enormous mountain that looked as if it endeavored to reach past the sky. Strange shadows danced along its surface, and foul laughter echoed within. The trackers nodded, quailing at their king's sharp glare. "Then we shall-". 4 enormous orcs dragged a complaining figure from the depths of the mountain.
"Laithen," Thranduil began, "I-"
"He knows my name, does he? Well, I know an orc when I see one." The orcs cackled uneasily, sprinting back into the mountain. Laithen launched herself at Thranduil, scrabbling at him with sharp nails. Two of his guards caught her arms, restraining her.
"Come, Laithen, let us go home." The elf protested so strongly that they had to knock her out.
Thranduil seared his heart against the pain, scars atop the ones that were left from losing his father. So when the dragon came to Erebor, and the dwarves begged for his help, he could turn his back without a second thought.
Laithen kept autocorrecting to Laughing(or something), which is funny because Lalaith means laughter. Laithen is actually a shortened form of Alvalaithen, a name I found in a book. Thanks to nyx for reviewing, and the (slightly mysterious guest :-) Lord Illyren too!
