No, this is not the reunion chapter just yet ;) I promise you guys won't have to wait much longer! I made sure this was a nice, long chapter though :)

Note: This is set before Lasneth was injured (which occurred in Chapter 10/11).

Of Memories and Realms

The war had ended.

The elves had waited many centuries for evil to be completely defeated. After Thranduil had heard tidings that the Fellowship had succeeded in their quest, the Woodland elves thought they were finally at peace. However, Sauron's armies had made two last, desperate attacks on both Lothlorien and Mirkwood. Countless trees had been burnt, homes destroyed, lives lost. The destruction had almost been too great a burden to bear, especially for the Woodland elves. Yet Thranduil had led them on once more. But the elves were now weary from the troubles of the world, with many choosing to sail in order to recover from the physical and emotional scars they had obtained during their time in Middle-earth.

Thranduil stood upon the balcony outside his study, hands resting on the railing as his gaze swept over the forest. The Elvenking was most conflicted – he felt pride at ridding the foul creatures from his realm, he felt grief at the trees and animals devastated, he felt pity and despair at seeing elves weep and fade due to loved ones they had lost in battle, and he felt concern for the future of the kingdom. Would anyone even wish to live in it anymore? Had the time of the elves at last come to a bittersweet end, just when the darkness had finally been vanquished? The thoughts swirled through the king's head. Thranduil closed his eyes, attempting to clear his mind. Instead, vicious memories of the recent forest battle consumed him.

Thranduil watched in horror as the orcs burned their way through the forest, breaking through the palace defences, slaughtering any elf in their path. The Elvenking reached over his shoulder, cursing when his hand found air instead of an arrow. Slinging his bow across his back, he unsheathed his sword and slashes his way through the enemies surrounding him. He turned his head sharply when he heard Lasneth call out desperately for him. Fearing the worst, he followed his son's voice and rushed to his aid. Relief flooded through his veins at seeing the prince whole. Lasneth fought back-to-back with his father.

"Adar," he called above the cacophony. "Yrch! They're going in the direction of the spiral dungeons!"

All colour drained from Thranduil's face. The spiral dungeons were deep in the cave-like abode, where a spiral staircase led down to an area where the ellyth and elflings were detained during battle. The one significant flaw was that the dungeons were not as deep as the ones where the Elvenking held his prisoners. Never in his thousands of years did Thranduil think that one day the enemy would infiltrate the city. The king's breath hitched when he realised Lalaith would be the first to stand guard behind the door leading to the spiral dungeons. The princess was fiercely protective of their people, a trait shared by Legolas, his family as well as the guard.

Grabbing Lasneth's arm, the king and prince sliced down every orc in their path as they made their way further into the palace. Lasneth cried out in despair when he saw that the door leading down the corridor towards the dungeons had been broken into. The prince burst into a sprint, his father at his heels.

Thranduil prayed that Lalaith had informed the other ellyth of the escape route via the river leading to Lake Town. He hoped against hope that Lalaith had decided to follow them, rather than staying behind to defend the city. The prince and king rushed down the hall, a few guards behind them. Thranduil's heart was racing; perspiration matted his skin and hair, making his clothing beneath his armour cling to his body.

Fortunately, the orcs had not discerned the importance of the dungeons, so the door leading to the spiral staircase had not been taken heed of. But they found themselves surrounded by a small group of orcs. Thranduil, Lasneth and their guards quickly disposed of the evil creatures. A menacing laugh followed by an abrupt shout made them halt. Thranduil felt a mixture of fear and fury envelope his being when he saw an orc emerge from round the corner, his blade held to Lalaith's neck. The princess' cheeks, hands and dress were streaked with dirt and blood. Her breathing was loud and shallow, her eyes betraying her terror.

"Drop your swords, or I'll slit her throat!" the orc growled, grinning wickedly.

Lasneth shifted nervously, confusion and disbelief marring his features. Thranduil gave a brief nod and gradually lowered his sword, signalling for his guards to do the same. Lasneth dropped his long knives, the metal clattering to the stone floor. He reached his left hand discreetly behind his thigh, feeling the dagger hidden beneath his armour. His fingers gripped the handle and he waited.

Lalaith read the questions in Thranduil and Lasneth's eyes. Why did she leave the safety of the spiral dungeons? She focused the energy of her thoughts towards Lasneth and spoke to him in his mind. 'Elarinya and I heard the orcs come so close to discovering us. I told the others to flee while we distracted the enemy. It was the only option we had or else there would have been a massacre.'

Lasneth blinked and stared at his sister-in-law. 'Where is your friend, Elarinya?'

'She is dead.' Lalaith tearfully glanced to her left. Lasneth followed her line of sight and noticed the fair maiden Elarinya, lying beneath some debris. Sorrow filled his heart and he turned to the orc clutching at the princess' neck, his blood boiling.

"Name your price and let her go," Thranduil said, his voice strong. The orc cackled and pressed the blade closer to the elleth's neck.

"You surrender, then I let her go," the creature laughed, its hideous features crumpling up in amusement. He wrapped his hand around Lalaith's neck and began to constrict her airways. Lalaith gasped for air, her panic increasing with each breath.

"RELEASE HER THIS INSTANT!" Thranduil bellowed. For a split moment, the orc cowered in intimidation.

"Alright then," it hissed. "Though I didn't say I'll let her go – alive!"

Thranduil snapped his gaze to his son. Lasneth understood the order. He grabbed the dagger hidden on him and threw it towards the orc. Before the creature could even blink, the blade had embedded deep into his forehead. Its grip on Lalaith loosened and it fell backwards to the ground. Thranduil dived to pick up his sword and ran towards Lalaith, shielding her with his left arm as he steered their way through another group of orcs that had entered the hall.

Lasneth stood between his family and the orcs surrounding them, covering for his father to allow him a chance to lead the princess out of danger. He looked over his shoulder to see if they had managed to escape the hall. The second of distraction proved to be detrimental.

"LASNETH!" Lalaith cried out when she saw the prince receive a blow to his stomach, the gash seeping with blood. Thranduil froze. His first instinct screamed at him to rush towards his son's side. He knew through their bond that his child was alive, his heartbeats were strong. The captain of the guard and Lalaith's uncle, Girithron, immediately ordered his fellow soldiers to surround the younger prince and Thranduil grasped Lalaith's hand, bolting towards the nearest exit. The elleth sobbed as they made their way through the palace to the emergency healing house. Once there, the king passed her hand to a healer and instructed for them to take their supplies and run. Thranduil placed his hands on either side of Lalaith's cheeks and kissed her forehead. "Lasneth is alive, my child. I will make sure he stays that way. Go!"

"Come back to us, Adar, please!" Lalaith wept. Thranduil squeezed her hand and with a final look back, he left.

xxx

"You have been lost in your thoughts for so long, you did not even noticed my presence."

Thranduil whirled around to come face-to-face with his cousin. Lord Celeborn smiled warmly at the Elvenking, sobering when he noticed the troubled look upon his face.

"Forgive me, cousin. I'm afraid my mind was wandering the road of memory."

Celeborn stepped towards the king. Sensing that Thranduil did not wish to discuss the topic, he attempted to divert the conversation. "Galadriel sends her kindest regards."

Thranduil snorted. "I believe the last time I met your Noldor wife, we did not exchange such kind words."

Celeborn smirked. "The Fellowship passed through Lorien during their travels. We met with the crown prince. I believe the last time we saw him he barely reached my knee. My lady was most impressed with him. In fact, I'm sure she liked him more than you. And I agree, he is not nearly as stubborn or proud as his father."

Thranduil released a bark of laughter, his features morphing into utter shock at hearing Celeborn's next words. "Your son has befriended a dwarf."

Thranduil stood, mouth agape. He snapped it shut and clenched his jaw. "My. Son. And. A. Dwarf?"

Celeborn grinned. "Indeed he has, and quite close too. He has called him elvellon."

Thranduil was seething. "Oh I will definitely have a few words with Legolas when he returns." The king glared openly at his cousin. "And you allowed him to do this?"

Celeborn shrugged. "They were both part of the Fellowship. They had to become united."

Thranduil grumbled to himself and listened as Celeborn informed him of the devastation that had also affected Lothlorien. "Galadriel will be sailing soon," Celeborn said sadly. Thranduil softened slightly; he knew the pain of being separated from a mate. "The elves of Lorien will be following her, although those who do wish to remain in Middle-earth will either seek refuge here or in Imladris, for Lothlorien will pass into distant memory."

Thranduil scrutinised his cousin, knowing that he had not yet spoken of the matter that weighed the most upon his mind. "I would gladly welcome refugees. But tell me, cousin, what is the purpose of this conversation?"

Celeborn smiled wryly. "Always impatient to get to the point," he muttered. "Since I will not be sailing just yet, I would also wish to… relocate."

Thranduil arched an eyebrow. "Here?"

Celeborn nodded in affirmation. "I would wish to rule the small portion of Lorien elves that decide to take up residence in Mirkwood."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes and flinched. He had never become accustomed to the name given by others to his realm – Mirkwood. He had always despised whenever the word reached his ears.

"The Woodland realm may have been burnt," Celeborn continued, "but the shadow has been conquered. Once the trees have healed, no longer shall the woods be murky."

Thranduil snapped his head up. "What do you propose?"

"I believe it is time for a change of name, do you not?"

Thranduil grinned. "I think it is long overdue."

Thranduil and Celeborn seated themselves on either side of the king's desk and continued to speak. The Lorien lord told his cousin about the brave, selfless deeds of the Fellowship, including what he had heard of Legolas. Thranduil's heart swelled with pride and he smiled widely, interrupting Celeborn's speech.

"Eryn Lasgalen."

Celeborn paused. "Wood of the Greenleaves?"

"And you may have the south of the forest," Thranduil replied.

"East Lorien it shall be."

The two elven lords exchanged smiles before clasping each other's forearms. Thranduil chuckled and reached over to the decanter of Dorwinion on his desk, pouring two glasses. He handed a glass to Celeborn and the two leaders raised their hands, clinking their glasses together.

"To the peaceful future of Eryn Lasgalen and East Lorien, until the breaking of the world," Thranduil toasted.

Celeborn simply inclined his head and smiled. "And a well deserved peace it shall be."

Translations:
Yrch = orcs.
Ellyth = plural for elleth (she-elf).
Elvellon = elf-friend.