DISCLAIMERS AND NOTES: I only own the characters that I created; all other recognized characters are J.R.R. Tolkien's possessions. Elvish phrases (Sindarin) come from the website Council of Elrond. The song Love Story by Taylor Swift has been borrowed slightly.

Desperate Call

The last notes of the song faded away into the night as Thranduil slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on Amorith's bed, a place he had not entered since she left. Time had taken its toll here; everywhere he looked there was a thick layer of dust covering everything. A pang of guilt filled him, but it quickly disappeared. He had come here in the hopes of gaining some sanity but found that he was driven more and more to the edge of insanity. His thoughts were beyond confusion.

He did not know what exactly drove him here tonight, of all places. But he knew that he would not be here if matters between him and Celemirë did not come to what they came to. He was deeply hurt by her utter lack of understanding. Innas had to be sent away for the good of his kingdom. He could not have an internal war within his kingdom now; it would be a critical blow to him. His beloved forest was turning darker with every second; he did not need his kingdom to follow suit, although he already knew that it had already begun to weaken for some time. Not to mention that she had dared to utter in front of him without sign of remorse or shame her name…

It was at times like this that Thranduil longed for a female. He had not touched a woman in awhile, since the time of Amorith, and his body ached to release his pent up energy. But he was not one to take a woman solely to bed her. He had refrained from that habit ages ago. Despite the many rumors that Celemirë was his secret concubine, he had never touched her, although the thought had crossed his mind several times. However, her relationship with his son, and, most importantly, Amorith, made him refrain from doing that. The golden haired maiden had matured alongside Legolas like a sister, and during her time in Mirkwood, Amorith was like a mother to both of them. Even though there was no bond between the Noldo and himself, Thranduil felt it would be almost a sin to take Celemirë for himself.

Thranduil's sapphire eyes roamed over the walls of Amorith's chambers. They were covered with richly decorated tapestries depicting various ancient Elven realms of old. She had woven them herself, so that they were more detailed than any other tapestries Thranduil had ever seen. It was well known that of all the Eldar, the Noldor were most renowned for their great crafting skills and hunger for knowledge, and within Amorith's tapestries, the Elven-king noted her kin's renowned crafting skills passed down to her. After all, was not she the granddaughter of Feänor, the greatest crafter of the entire Elvish race? His very blood flowed through her veins.

"Traitors, all of them! Kinslayers!"

The words were heated as they came from Thranduil's mouth. His gaze fell on a tapestry depicting Doriath and Ossiriand—from where Thranduil came. His fingertips reached out shakily to trace a leaf. Behind his closed eyes, he could picture himself once more in his birthplace. His sire, King Oropher, stood magnificently behind him, smiling broadly at his son. Thranduil would give anything to return to those days of bliss, but he knew he could not. He was King of Mirkwood now, responsible for thousands of subjects, not a Prince, heir to his sire's throne.

As he opened his eyes once more, Thranduil sighed heavily. He knew now why he was here.

This was his retreat when Amorith dwelled within his halls, when his kingdom was fairest since its establishment by his sire, Oropher. In here, he had known nothing save complete happiness and bliss, something that he lacked now. He would come to Amorith at night in his direst need when there was a problem he could not solve on his own, or whenever he had something on his mind, either fair or fell. The first time he came to her was the hardest because he was not used to sharing his thoughts with another. Even when Legolas' mother was alive, he never told her anything, preferring to keep everything within him. Steadily, it became a ritual for Thranduil to come every night to Amorith's bed and lay beside her as she listened to his troubles and worries and offered her advice on various matters. Those were the finest days of Thranduil's rule.

But they were also the most painful now for him after Amorith had revealed herself to him. He could see her plans. She was taking over his throne, so that he was King only by title, but she was the true ruler. The Noldor were indeed skilled in every way, and he had to admit that her plan had worked, if only she had not told him who she really was. That was her downfall.

'If she truly wanted to take over your kingdom…'

Thranduil shook his head. He had come here out of desperation in an attempt to find some answers, but he found that he had more questions than ever before. The once calming effect Amorith's chambers had on him when he simply walked in was no longer at hand. It was replaced with a formidably cold atmosphere, which he knew to be partly his own doing. There was no longer the comfort that he needed here, only indifference.

Turning away from the walls, he made his way back to the bed. He was visibly shaking now as he pulled back the bedcovers and slipped beneath them. Silent tears rolled down his handsome face as memories of Amorith's departure returned to him and the day's events rolled together. He recalled how he had almost struck Celemirë earlier and a wave of guilt washed over him. He had never before struck a woman, and to have almost done so to his singer was very hard for him to accept. He wished now with all of his heart that Amorith were here. He needed her consolations now. She always knew what to tell him to make him feel better.

"I do not need her; I do not need that traitorous Kinslayer!"

He rose suddenly, fists clenched tightly. But his need for her was stronger, and quite reluctantly, he felt himself calling to her in his mind. He tried to stop himself, but he knew it was too late.

…

Amorith was walking slowly behind the three younger Silvan Elves, thinking over many things. She saw a guard talan ahead of her and sighed. Since they had left the riverbank the day prior, she felt that something was amiss, and an intuitive voice told her to cross the river Anduin and go to Thranduil. He needed her, the voice was telling her urgently. Mirkwood was falling into chaos from within and the King greatly desired her presence by his side. Her first sign that something was amiss was when her connection with Thranduil suddenly became alive with many feelings, but mostly utter hate. It went on for some time then faded away, and Amorith thought nothing of it. Lately he had been prone to violent outbursts such as these. Then she sensed great emotions from Innas and Celemirë afterwards, both happiness and sadness combined. She had stopped suddenly at each new feeling from all of them, causing Haldir and his brothers to stop and glance at her curiously. They were alarmed by her sudden and abrupt stops.

"Are you well, Amorith?" Rúmil asked for the tenth time.

It was night. They were safe in a guard talan after traveling all day. Caras Galadhon was another day's walk ahead of them. Haldir was waiting for them so he could speak to Amorith about what she had learned from her watch at the river. He regarded her silently now as his brother approached her carefully, for at times she was known to react harshly.

The Noldor looked dazedly at the marchwarden.

"You were speaking to me?" she asked.

He nodded.

"I am well," she replied with a weak smile.

But in truth, she was far from feeling well. She had just been assaulted by a torrent of Thranduil's emotions. She was happy at feeling something of her bond with him awaken, but anxious about the result if she chose to reach out to him. So she waited nervously for a chance to intervene.

"Amorith."

She looked up into Haldir's face.

"I am coming," she replied.

He nodded once and disappeared behind a heavy curtain. As she rose to follow him, she felt Thranduil call her, and she stopped in her tracks. Her face paled. She had direct access to his mind now, and she saw everything play out before her as if she were present and had witnessed everything herself: Innas' confrontation, Thranduil yelling at him, Thranduil sitting dejected on his throne, Thranduil going to Celemirë and their little episode, and then Thranduil going into her old chambers and lamenting over his past and present. The Noldor slid weakly to the ground, covering her eyes with her hands. She could not bear to see it all. What tormented her especially was Celemirë's face after her King had almost struck her. The maiden's pain and shock was too much. Amorith was oblivious of the crowd gathered around her.

"What have you done, Thranduil?" she cried.

She knew her former lover was deeply stressed and that he was seeking some comfort. That was why he had gone to her room, like he had always done before. But she was no longer there. She would not be in her bed as was her custom, waiting for him with oils to rub into his skin as he unloaded his burdens onto her. She could almost smell his scent and feel his warm skin. He needed her now, despite all that had passed between them.

Would she answer his calls?

Even as she thought of what to do, she felt him stop himself, but it was already done. She had learned everything from him even as he closed his mind off to her. Already he was retreating into his mask of cold demeanor, realizing that he had exposed too much of himself and his weaknesses to her. But he did not cease his calls. He simply waited, as she did. For how long she stood there, Amorith did not know. She felt as if the entire world had stopped and that everything depended on this one decision. She weighed its consequences heavily. Part of her told her to ignore him and not heed him.

'He caused you so much pain!'

She shook her head, biting her trembling lip. Forfirith's words drifted into her thoughts:

"Forget him, Amorith. He does not deserve you, and you do not deserve this torture."

She opened her eyes and found Haldir staring back at her. His face was blank, expressionless. But beneath that mask, he was otherwise. He sensed that her current state was related to Thranduil somehow. He could not tell her what to do; it was her own decision.

She looked away from him and turned her face towards the direction of Mirkwood. Her love for Thranduil was stronger than her pain. She would grant him his wish, if only just this time. She concentrated all of her attention on a single memory, bringing it back in all of its fullest details. Then when the time was right, she opened herself up to the memory and let it envelop her.

Back in the palace, Thranduil became aware of a warm breeze caressing his face. He closed his eyes and gave in to his senses. His memory was drawn back to a single night when he was with Amorith, and they were curled up together in her bed, not saying a single word, but rather enjoying each other's silent company. He had a tiring day and had come for his nightly release. She had been singing a song softly to him, as was her custom, and it was in recollection of one of their earliest moments together, when they had both dwelt in Doriath. Thranduil had invited her to meet his father, so that Oropher could judge her merit for himself. Long had he listened to his son's wistful and whimsical descriptions, and was eager to make the lady's acquaintance. Amorith, upon receiving the invitation, was taken aback. Up to that time, Thranduil had never spoken very warmly to her; instead their conversations had been full of heated words and arguments. He had persisted in making her life as miserable as he possibly could when he had found out about her inclination to forgive the Noldo, to allow them to speak their native Quenyan at the very least. Under guise of being fully Sindar, she spoke outwardly in the court of Elu Thingol about mercy towards those who truly repented of the Noldor, to not begrudge them their heritage. None suspected her, for there were a few even amongst the King's advisors who were of like mind, seeking to alleviate any further grief.

"Have they not truly broken spirits already, that you seek to further humiliate them by robbing them of their customs and traditions, their very language, the language of Valinor?" she had begged, the tears she refused to spill making her vision swim before her.

But Elu Thingol remained adamant in his judgment, and the law was passed that the Noldorin were banned from the use of their native tongue, and thereafter had to replace it with Sindarin. He had sought Amorith alone afterwards, where she had implored him one final time, letting her tears flow like a river, and though his heart melted at her sight, this princess of high and noble standing, he did not repent from his words, knowing well who she was.

"It has been done, my Lady. There is to be no Quenyan uttered ever again on these shores while I breathe," Elu Thingol reaffirmed.

She had fled in her sadness to a balcony, and there Thranduil found her, and gave her the invitation. She had accepted, and there first learned of Thranduil's desire to possess her. Forfirith and Galadriel both had been wary, but Amorith ignored them. Thranduil then on was relentless in his pursuit of her, despite the mistrust of Forfirith and Galadriel. Almost millennia later, in Mirkwood, they lay together, their arguments of old forgotten now. And so Amorith sang:

We were both young when I first saw you
I close my eyes
And the flashback starts
I am standing there
On a balcony in summer air

"I thank the Valar every day, Amorith that you are here beside me every night," he told her.

She looked at him softly, caressing his face with her hands.

"It pleases me to hear that," she said.

"I feel that this night will remain engraved in my mind forever."

"If I should no longer be at your side, and you need me direly, then through this memory I will return to you, if only as a memory, but you shall find the comfort that you need. Draw upon it."

He remembered the way they had kissed, and as he lay there with his eyes closed, fully thrust into this living memory, he felt his own lips meet those of Amorith's. Startled, he opened his eyes and saw her face as clearly as daylight, smiling sadly at him. He was angry with himself but his need for solace was greater, so he closed his eyes again, feeling the way Amorith's body molded with his, the way her taste coursed through him like sweet fire. What he did not utter or show on his face betrayed him now in the way he recalled that memory.

"I am always here for you, Thranduil, no matter the circumstances. I still, and will always, love you. I want you to understand that well, despite what you may think because it is true. And this you know well, for you would not have called upon me tonight in your direst need."

The Elven-king closed his eyes tightly against the tears he was holding back. His anger was returning as quickly as the memory was fading. He attempted to stop it from slipping away, but it was gone as suddenly as it had come. Amorith had been present; he had felt her.

From her position in the talan, Amorith gripped the rails tightly. What she had done drained her of most of her energy as well as her strength. It was an ancient magic that she had just performed. Never before was it seen in Middle-earth, and never again would it be seen. She opened her eyes slowly to find the talan to be deserted except for Haldir.

"Help me," she whispered to him as her legs gave way beneath her.