As much as I hate to spoil story content, I refuse to accidentally sucker punch anyone; even if this is fiction, the emotions experienced are real. So… Trigger warning for this chapter for themes dealing with infant loss and stillbirth, and some descriptions may be considered graphic or disturbing to some readers. One in four women experience this pain, yet no one ever wants to think about it or discuss it, and it's treated like a shameful, dirty secret. I have always envisioned this as a part of the journey of this story, in honor of all the mothers and fathers who have had to suffer through the hell of child loss in the crushing isolation and silence of their own grief. If you're a survivor of infant loss, like me, or it's touched your life in some way, know you're not alone.
This is a longer chapter again because I didn't want to break the flow or end it on a dark note.
"What cannot be said will be wept." ~ Sappho
"The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain." ~ Kahil Gibran
"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." ~ Princess Bride
Chapter Twenty-eight
Blowing a strand of hair back out of her eyes, Elizabeth set down the small stack of books on her desk that she had only just picked up at the library from Tirion. It was a series of supposedly exciting adventure stories that her friend had recently brought to her attention, written by someone calling themselves only Teitha Pen. (Sindarin: write/inscribe somebody/anyone)
The manuscripts had begun appearing mysteriously on the librarian's desk with no clue as to where they came from or who wrote them, more than a dozen years before, first featuring the tale of the Sunshine King and the Dragon in its most embellished form, with several more volumes added in the following years.
The one constant was the main character, an elleth called Vaháyawen (Quenya: far away maiden) who came to a forest realm called Brightwood from a previously unknown elvish island kingdom, far across the sea. She got herself and her faithful band of Silvan friends into any number of scrapes and difficulties, surviving dangerous quests and frequently angering the proud king of Brightwood, even occasionally getting herself or her friends thrown into the dungeon for punishment.
Being vastly amused by the many, obvious similarities between Elizabeth and Vaháyawen, Tirion had recommended them to her, even teasingly calling them her unofficial and grossly exaggerated biographies. Since the stories had become so popular, it was difficult to catch them when they weren't checked out, so Tirion had finally set them all aside as they were returned so she could read all four volumes at once.
The fourth volume was purported to be about the budding romance between the stern King Cálëlairë (Quenya: light summer) and the cheeky elleth, Vaháyawen, but Tirion refused to tell her any more about it, insisting she discover the details for herself. She intended to settle in later, perhaps in a hidden nook somewhere to prevent interruptions, and devour them all, one after the other. It was immensely amusing and even a little flattering to think she had possibly inspired some mystery elf to write such tales.
"Good afternoon, Elizabeth."
Breezing into the room fresh from patrol, Legolas pecked a light kiss to her cheek in greeting and curiously lifted a child's drawing from the middle of the desk and gave her an amused smile. The chalk rendering was obviously meant to be the king and queen, as both wore crowns, with the male being depicted with yellow hair and the female with dark hair. The enormous smiles on both faces were nothing less than hilarious and adorable.
"I don't know that I would call this a true likeness of either of you, but I would bet you don't mind that in the least, considering the elfling it came from."
Elizabeth nodded, chuckling. "Lîrdor is such a quiet little chap, but I can't help having a soft spot for him. He's just like Feren but with the occasional flash of Tirion peeking out." She picked up the first volume from the stack of books, absently flipping through it. "Do you know he asked me last week if he could be my bond-mate, and I quote, 'after you're finished with King Thranduil'?"
Legolas laughed heartily and smirked. "Perhaps I should tell Adar that there is a rival for your affections, and he had best be on his guard. But I'm most curious as to what your response was to the precocious elfling?"
Lowering her chin with the hint of a smile, the Elvenqueen shrugged innocently. "I told him he was a bit confused as to how things work and needed to immediately go to his father and demand he explain everything there was to know about marriage, and especially about where elf babies come from."
Wincing, the prince shook his head. "You didn't really, did you?" At her smirk, he grinned. "Feren won't want to speak to you again, and he certainly won't be open to having more elflings if you cause difficulties for him."
"Ha!" she said smugly, "that's where you are wrong. Elirien is already pregnant again, and Feren needs practice explaining the birds and the bees to his children." She ran a finger across the drawing again and smiled wistfully.
Peering closely at her face, Legolas suddenly sighed, the sound full of ten years worth of exasperation, both his and hers, and the many conversations they had had on the topic of babies. "For the hundredth time, Elizabeth, just tell him to give you a child. Demand it, even; it is your right!"
Frowning, Elizabeth gave Legolas a bemused look, her voice disapproving. "You know I have spoken to him about it and he is aware of my wishes. I won't push; love does not try to force its will on another. A gift cannot be taken, it must be freely given. I would rather remain childless forever than to devolve into a miserable nagging and demanding shrew. Plus, you know your father never does anything without considering every possibility and all angles. I'm sure there must be a reason for his continued reticence which will likely be obvious in due time."
The prince made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "You are both ridiculous and I give up." He picked up one of the books and flipped through it, the irritation on his face giving way to a smile. "These are actually quite entertaining. Have you not read them before?"
She shook her head. "I was not even aware of the series until Tirion told me of it recently." Tilting her head, she smiled teasingly. "I'm rather surprised you read stories like these. I understand they're chock full of romance."
"Also a great deal of fighting, written by someone who understands real battle. And beheadings," he said with raised brows.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Typical male, you are."
"You say that like it's a bad thing. Who doesn't enjoy the idea of a great quest affecting the fate of the entire world, as explored in books two and three?"
Snatching the book away, she glared at the prince. "Legolas! Don't tell me what's going to happen, I want to read it for myself. Now, shoo! I have a meeting with some ladies to prepare for."
He sauntered to the door, a mysterious smile on his lips as he turned back to face her. "And just how is the secret project to make new, fancy robes for the king coming along?"
Her mouth fell open in shock. "You aren't supposed to know about that! No one is, it's a surprise."
Legolas lifted a careless shoulder and smirked. "The king has spies everywhere, you know. But don't worry, I'm sure Adar will act convincingly surprised all the same." Elizabeth stared at him in dismay until he walked out.
Once he was out of sight, she went across the room and grabbed her bag of supplies before going to meet the other ladies helping her make the enormous tapestry to hang in the feasting hall, depicting scenes from Greenwood's history, including a panel of the Sunshine King and the Dragon. She smiled smugly to herself, glad her idea of a red herring to throw Thranduil off the trail seemed to work, and her true surprise would remain a secret a while longer.
Elirien sat down and blew gently on the steaming cup of tea she held in her hands, smiling at the complete look of shock on the queen's face, her own cup of tea sitting forgotten on the table in front of her. It was several minutes before Elizabeth seemed to suddenly snap out of her private thoughts and glanced at her friend with a hesitant smile.
"But are you absolutely certain? There's no mistake?"
Rubbing a hand across the small swell of her belly, Elirien smiled serenely. "I am a healer and I well know what I felt, Elizabeth. Why do you doubt me?"
With wide eyes, Elizabeth shook her head. "No! I don't doubt you, of course not. I'm just surprised to hear this news, that's all." Elirien beckoned her closer, and when the queen sat beside her, she took one of Elizabeth's hands and pressed it firmly against her abdomen, both of them smiling at the shifting movement there. After a moment, Elizabeth withdrew her hand and sat back, looking thoughtful.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Honestly Elirien, I don't know what to say."
Shrugging, the elleth smiled and reached out to hold the queen's hand. "Just say you are happy."
Nodding slowly, Elizabeth squeezed her friend's hand. "I am happy, you know I am. I'll be giddy once it sinks in."
Elirien smiled radiantly, her hazel eyes full of affection and a pleased satisfaction. "And I am happy too, Elizabeth...for both of you."
Thranduil looked up when Elizabeth came bursting into the room and walked to where he sat, the grin she wore seeming to stretch from ear to ear. He pushed back from his large desk and turned his chair to face her, wondering at what had caused the jumble of happy emotions emanating from her. He had felt a strong spark of excitement earlier from their bond, and thought then that something must have greatly pleased or touched her. She immediately sat herself on his lap and proceeded to cover his face in eager kisses, making him chuckle.
"To what do I owe this sudden outpouring of affection, Bess?"
Leaning back to meet his eyes, she beamed at him. "How can I not show affection at the magnitude of the gift you have chosen to give me? Is this to celebrate the twenty years we have been married? If so, it is my favorite gift, ever." While she continued to scatter kisses across his cheek to his neck, he frowned and gripped her arms lightly.
"What gift do you speak of? I have given you nothing of late."
She grasped one of his hands and placed it low on her belly. "Don't be obtuse, you must know I'm speaking of our child. Elirien examined me and informed me that I was with child after I complained I was feeling a little strange lately. You should have told me sooner!"
Still frowning, he grasped her chin and looked deeply into her eyes, his frown soon changing to a look of surprise. Placing his hand back on her belly, he concentrated for a moment before looking at her with a puzzled smile.
"I do not know how it came to pass, but I feel the faint spark of life, and our child does indeed grow inside you."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "What do you mean you don't know how it came to pass? You put it there, you ridiculous elf."
He lifted a brow and gave her a wry look. "I mean that I did not will this conception into being. It must have happened spontaneously. Such would never occur with an elven female, but with you being of mankind, apparently it is within the realm of possibility, however unexpected I may find it."
Her brows furrowed, her eyes falling away from his. "Do you mean to say you do not want this child," she asked in a small voice, "since you did not choose it?"
Thranduil cupped her cheek, bringing her watery gaze back to meet the tender love in his. "Of course I want this child, elves greatly value all young. I want every child you shall give me, but I had not yet felt the time was right, and now it apparently is. I couldn't be happier about this, mîr nin. (my treasure) You must believe me."
"I do believe you," she said, her apprehension instantly melting away. She smiled and eagerly returned his gentle kiss, then wound her arms around his neck, laid her head against his shoulder and sighed. "Do you think this is a boy or a girl I carry?"
He combed his fingers though her long, dark waves. "It is much too early to get any sense of gender, I think. Was Elirien able to say how long ago conception occurred?" He frowned, shaking his head in bemusement. "It is a very strange thing that I do not know that, nor was I even aware that you carry a child."
"She thought no more than two months, based on what she felt," she said, rubbing a soothing hand across his chest. "And that lack of knowing when exactly conception occurs is something all mankind experiences, as pregnancy is often only noted after the absence of the monthly bleeding cycle."
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "But you do not have such cycles."
She shook her head. "No, I have them very infrequently. Not long after we married I spoke to the Chief Healer Nedirien about it, and she said I am much like an elf, as I only bleed once or twice a century, at most. Perhaps it is the way of immortal females?" She shrugged and lifted her head to look at him. "Do you think I should give up riding until after the birth?"
"You must do whatever you feel would be wisest. Perhaps speak again with Elirien or Nedirien and ask their counsel as to whether you should change any of your behavior, or continue as you have. I do not have sufficient knowledge of these matters for human females to be able to advise you properly."
"Very well," she said with a nod. "I shall visit the healing rooms later, I think."
"Or I can summon them to appear before you, if you prefer," he murmured, brushing his lips against her cheek.
"No, I'll go there," she laughed. "I think I am still more than capable of walking, love. When I'm too fat to move, then you can order everyone to come to me."
He chuckled, his hand returning to rest against her still flat belly. "I eagerly anticipate watching you blossom with new life."
"When you put it that way, it makes the prospect of growing as large as a house far less daunting. Oh!" She sat straighter on his lap, her eyes wide. "I think I'll go down to the kitchens. I have a sudden, oddly desperate need for crisps covered in salt and vinegar."
Grinning, she stood and hurried out, leaving Thranduil staring after her with a smile that slowly faded when his brows knit with worry. The strong feeling of disquiet and foreboding he experienced every time he contemplated having a child with Elizabeth was still present. If anything, it had increased dramatically since her announcement, and he was no closer to understanding why.
"It is clearly a son," Istril, the chief baker said, kneading the lump of dough on the work table in front of her with focused energy and nodding sagely.
Renion smiled from the tall kitchen stool he was perched on and reached for another fresh slice of bread, still warm from the oven. "How can you be so certain of this? The queen has only been with child four months. If she carries for a full year like an elf, surely it is yet too soon to know, and even if she carries for the shorter nine months of her own kind, she is still not quite halfway."
Istril shook her head, separating the large lump of dough into four sections to form loaves in preparation for baking. "I am certain because of what she craves to eat. Always something salty or her favorite of very sour pickled vegetables, and never sweet things as is common when carrying females."
"But that is not always true," Renion said laughingly. "My sister ate both sweet and salty things when she carried her daughter. What say you to that?"
Wiping her hands on a thick towel, Istril smiled and shrugged. "Eithadis had no cravings at all, and ate anything and everything in sight. The theory only works if there are strong cravings experienced."
"I suppose I must concede to your superior knowledge on the subject. Anything to do with carrying and birthing young still remains a great mystery to me, despite all the births we have seen in recent days."
Istril took a sharp knife and began cutting a cooled loaf of bread into slices. "Why is Thandir not with you today? Is he yet on duty with the queen?"
"Nay," Renion said, expertly snatching the crusty end piece from the newly cut bread and winking when Istril narrowed her eyes at him. "He is exercising and grooming the queen's horse. Since she has stopped riding, her stallion has grown somewhat melancholy, so Thandir has been taking time to show him extra care."
"That is very thoughtful of him to show such kindness to the poor animal," she murmured. She turned and took a clean kitchen towel and placed several warm slices of bread on it, then wrapped it up. "Here, you may take this to him. A good deed should not deprive him of something to eat."
Renion took the food she thrust at him and grinned. "I'm sure he will enjoy it all the more since your sweet hands were the ones to touch it."
She blushed and looked away, returning to slicing bread. "Stop teasing me or I shall do the same to you." Glancing up, Istril smiled knowingly. "Naradis has received enough flowers from you to fill all of Greenwood these past fifty years. But then, so has Iûldwen."
Renion grinned, completely unrepentant. "I cannot make up my mind between them, as they are both equally lovely and pleasant. Although, perhaps I also find them equally dull." He reached out suddenly and took Istril's hand that wasn't holding the knife and kissed it, looking up to catch her surprised gaze. "Or will you never admit to yourself why I spend so much time here, with you?"
She swallowed with eyes still wide. "You are teasing me again, Renion."
His eyes sparkled briefly with humor before sharpening into seriousness. "No, Istril, I am not." He released her hand and turned toward the door, his charming smile in place once more. "Put some thought into it. I shall see you tomorrow."
Istril stared at the empty doorway for a full minute before she shook herself from her thoughts. She started slicing the bread again with great gusto, a soft smile on her lips.
Thranduil sat listening to his Captain give report, with the three commanders of the day watches each waiting to take their turn. He appeared as interested and attentive as he always did, but inside he was anything but, his apprehension growing with every moment that slipped past with exaggerated slowness.
The first wave of sorrow was almost as light and gentle as a spring breeze when it drifted across the bond, and nothing to give undue alarm. But the next swell of pain that struck him was so intensely powerful, raw and primal, that it nearly stole his breath while it sent his heart into a sharp, staccato rhythm.
Gripping the arms of his throne, he forced himself to be still and endure until the elves before him finished speaking, and he was able to say the necessary words to dismiss them, though he scarcely heard himself speak. When they moved beyond the chamber, he was down the steps of his throne and well on his way to the royal residence, where the pulses of his awareness were focused.
He knew not what to expect, but based on the agony Elizabeth was projecting, seemingly unaware through their bond, he knew it must be dire, indeed. Gathering what calm he could, he pushed it to her while he sped his steps, coming to a startled stop at a trail of blood that went from the door of the water closet and down the narrow hallway that connected to their bathing room.
Following the red drops, he found Elizabeth dressed in nothing but a blue robe and sitting on the tiled floor, leaning back against the wall near the water, clutching something bundled in her lap. The path of blood ended beside her and her legs were stained with dark color where it had dried. When she looked up at him, glassy-eyed, his own grief stabbed sharply across the bond, immediately realizing what she held. Her pained gaze dropped back down to the tiny form he could see clearly when she straightened her bent leg.
"I'm so sorry. I have failed you," she said in a low voice.
His brows knit tightly together while he inhaled slowly, awash in their shared pain and trying to process what had happened. How did he respond to this? For all his long years, this was an entirely new kind of grief he had never had to face; had never even considered the possibility of it before that moment. Letting his love guide him, he walked over and lowered himself to the floor to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him to kiss her temple.
Her voice sounded detached, nothing like her usual self. It was flat and nearly void of all emotion. "You'll get my blood all over you. I fear I've made a terrible mess."
He reached over and scooped her up, carefully sitting her to rest across his lap. "Do you think that concerns me?" he asked gently. "I care only for the pain I feel in your heart, mîr nin. (my treasure) And do not apologize to me or think you are responsible, as though there were anyone to blame for such a sorrow as this. Pain and grief inevitably visit every life, and it often arrives from directions we cannot control or anticipate. I have had a vague feeling of disquiet of late, but I did not foresee this."
She met his eyes, the first of the numbness she was functioning under slowly beginning to crack in his presence. "He's clearly a boy, even though so very small. I've been wracking my brain but I still can't understand… Why did this have to happen to us?"
He touched the little hand of their lost child, which was not even as big as his fingertip, but looked in every way perfect. A person in miniature, with tiny hands and feet, and small, distinct features, like an artist's exquisite sculpture. Despite the deep, wrenching agony of sorrow, he could not help but look on in awed wonder at the sight while he pondered her words, well understanding her need to question what had happened and rail against the blow fate had dealt them. How many times in his much earlier years had he done the very same?
"I have found it is better never to ask such questions when faced with a difficult loss. It neither changes the outcome nor comforts the wounds of a grieving heart. Tragedy has struck, and that is the reality we must endeavor to come to terms with."
She raised her hand and curled her thumb and first finger into the skin of her closed eyelids, her breath coming in sharp gasps as the dam of emotions burst and tears finally began to flow. He embraced her, both with his arms and through their bond, surrounding her as best he could in all the warmth of his comfort.
"Release all your pain to me, mîr nin. I would willingly bear it for you."
She shook her head, voice coming in a choked sob. "No, I don't want you to take it all yourself, Thranduil. Just- do not leave me...and please hold me tighter. I cannot face this without you."
He pulled her even closer and exhaled a breath, doing nothing to deny his own hot tears where they gathered in his eyes and flowed down his cheeks, while Elizabeth laid her head against his chest and wept bitterly. The sounds of her suffering affecting him on the deepest level, his desire to protect and comfort her greater than all else, even his own sorrow.
"You are not alone, Bess, nor shall you be," he told her in a voice roughened by emotion. "You know I have sworn never to be parted from you. I am your sword and your shield through any trial or grief, and I love you more than my own life. So cry, beloved. I am here for you. I will always be here for you."
His words made her weep harder, even as they brought the vital balm of his comfort and love. Though there was little that could truly assuage the sharpness of the ache that was the loss of their infant son; the path ahead of them no longer filled with excited daydreams or joyful anticipation, but only the painful reality of suffering, and the unwelcome promise of aching, empty arms.
They buried their son they had privately named Hêniest, meaning wished child, in the northern woods in Elizabeth's favorite grove of elms, where shafts of sunlight easily penetrated to the forest floor and the air was crisp and fresh. She took to visiting the place frequently in the many months that followed, to bring fresh flowers, eventually spending more time there than in the halls in an effort to avoid the pitying and disturbed looks she often caught from the corner of her eye before the elves managed to hide it behind their stoic masks. She could imagine what they all thought, and what the gossip likely was, as she thought it herself: she was nothing but the queen of failure...
Even the kindness of Legolas or her other friends could not alleviate her misery, as no other she knew had gone through what she had and couldn't begin to relate to it. Elves did not miscarry, and stillbirths were equally rare. She was of mankind, with many of the accompanying imperfections, and despite her immortality, she could not escape all the burdens of her own race. No one in the entire kingdom really understood what she had gone through or the pain she still carried.
Except one, her mind whispered. He also suffers the same pain; the pain that you alone have brought him to.
She closed her eyes in defeat, unable to fight the harsh words in her mind, her fingers stroking the soft petals of the white lilies she had laid on her son's grave. The perfume was a poignant reminder of the memories of past griefs through the centuries, including the losses of her parents and brother.
"But this one is all my fault," she whispered.
A quiet sigh broke through her misery, making her lift her head. "It is not your fault, Elizabeth. You know there is no fault in this, though you stubbornly refuse to see otherwise." Thranduil crossed the space separating them, answering the question in her eyes when she looked to where her faithful guards usually kept watch.
"I sent them away." His eyes slid across the lilies and the tiny grave with a small flash of pain, which deepened when his gaze rested on her face. Reaching down, he pulled her to her feet and enveloped her in his firm embrace.
"Come away and ride with me. There is a secret place in this part of the woods you have not yet discovered, even further to the north."
"To the north?"
He gave a single nod. "Yes."
Elizabeth looked to where his great elk stood, a descendant of the noble beast lost outside Erebor, tossing his head and stamping the ground in greeting when their eyes met and bringing a slight smile to her lips. It was clear her horse had been sent back with her guards, leaving no other option than to ride with him.
"Very well," she murmured, allowing him to lead her to his mount and lift her up, quickly settling behind her and pulling her close. He leaned down, his arms surrounding her and brushed his lips against her hair as the elk started walking.
She sighed and relaxed back against him, admiring the beautiful green leaves of the thick canopy overhead. It had been a long while since she had last ridden with the King, and never once without guards. The unexpected intimacy of being alone with him bringing back the memory of the first time they had ridden together in such a way with his cloak around her, making her chuckle. His eyes filled with relief at the sound, his fingers lightly stroking against her ribs.
"The sound of your laughter is most welcome, Bess."
She tangled her fingers with his. "I was just remembering the first time we rode together, that terrible, wonderful day with the damned dragon, when you became my savior and hero even more than you already were."
His mind's eye filled with the memory, lifting his lips in a smile. "Was I your hero before then? I did not know."
Reaching back, Elizabeth pulled his head down to meet hers, kissing him. Her eyes moved over his face before she released him and turned forward again. "You've been my hero for quite a long time, Thranduil. Since our very first meeting, in fact."
He pondered her words as they rode, a smile on his lips when they stopped and he slipped off the elk and lifted her down into his arms, cradling her face in his hands while he kissed her. "You recognized me before I recognized you, Elizabeth. I think perhaps that makes you the wiser of the two of us in the ways of the heart."
She frowned, ready to question him as to the meaning of his words when he nudged her forward and she got her first glimpse of where he had brought her. Gasping, she walked quickly toward the enchanting sight, the sun shining on the pool ahead of them showing the crystal clear water in shades of aquamarine and cobalt blue, rippling in the light breeze. Smooth black stone lined the edge of the water hole, with larger boulders scattered naturally about that seemed ideal for sitting or lounging.
"It's safe to drink or bathe in," he murmured. "It's fed directly by a warm underground spring."
Thranduil took off his cloak and laid it out to the far side of the pool, then sat on one of the larger rocks to remove his boots and tunic. She pursed her lips, scanning the trees around them.
"Are your guards not able to see us here?"
He shook his head and stood, removing the last of his raiment and setting it aside. "No, they are near enough to hear, should I signal them, but not within sight."
She stood transfixed, the twenty plus years of their marriage doing nothing to lessen her fascination with his naked form, and his golden skin glowed even more brightly in the pure light of day where he stood in perfect unconcern and confidence before her. He strode to the shallow end and walked down the natural slope into the water, smiling up at her in challenge when he stood chest-deep.
"Will you not join me? You will find the water warm and your companion most accommodating."
Elizabeth smiled faintly. "Accommodating in what way?"
His earnest blue eyes captured hers. "In any way you need or desire me to be, gûr nin." (my heart)
She moved to the closest boulder, sitting long enough to remove her shoes, then standing again to peel away her riding dress and undergarments, conscious of the weight of his gaze while she finished unwinding her long braid.
He turned to watch her walk down into the pool, extending a hand and pulling her to him. He brushed a kiss against her temple and lowered his head, capturing her lips and sliding his hands across her back, soon pulling away when he felt a slight reticence from her.
Looking in her eyes, he observed all the conflicting emotions there, many she tried to conceal from him, as well as the way she struggled to hold his gaze. He pursed his lips and drew a deep breath, considering what words she most needed to hear.
"Do you hold me responsible or blame me for the loss of our child?" He tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear as she gasped, her eyes going wide.
"Of course I don't blame you, love, you are at no fault." Her arms around his waist tightened in emphasis. "How could you possibly think something so ridiculous?"
His eyes softened, his voice gentling. "It is as ridiculous as you insisting on shouldering blame and being buried beneath the cruel recriminations you heap on yourself while shutting me out of your suffering to grieve alone. You must release the weight of this unreasonable guilt you carry, Bess, before it consumes you from the inside out. You have begun to fade from this, but I will not allow it."
She gave an involuntary smile at the emphatic declaration, but finally began to recognize the truth in his words, and how unfair she had been to him while entirely consumed with her own grief, some of the heaviness beginning to slowly lift from her heart. Looking up, she searched his eyes as she finally gave voice to her greatest fear.
"But what if it happens again? What if I can't ever…?"
"No." He shook his head and cupped her cheek. "It will not; your womb sleeps now until I awaken it, which I will when the time is right. You must be patient a little longer and trust me with this."
Sighing, she ran her fingers across his ribs and up to his chest, pressing her hands flat against the muscled expanse. "I do trust you."
"Do you?" He buried his fingers in her hair, searching her eyes. "Then let me care for you. Allow my love to heal your pain, as yours does for mine."
"Thranduil, I was afraid to burden you, but I- I do need you. So much," she whispered, her eyes revealing her vulnerability and continuing to speak her desperation and longing for him until he leaned down and kissed her, drawing her closer and scattering her thoughts like leaves in the wind.
Later, they basked in the sun on his cloak, Thranduil leaning back, supporting his weight on his hands and smiling down at Elizabeth where she lay looking up at him with eyes that appeared wholly green and once again shone with the brightness of love instead of being dimmed by grief and pain.
A carpet of tiny white and yellow flowers surrounded them, and he had been twining the blossoms into her hair, creating a delicate floral crown, bringing to mind the words of a song the Silvans loved to sing. He reached for one of her dark locks of hair, which had dried into a spiraling curl and wound it around his finger and began to sing to her.
"My featherbed is deep and soft,
And there I'll lay you down,
I'll dress you all in yellow silk
And on your head a crown."
~o~
"For you shall be my lady love,
And I shall be your lord.
I'll always keep you warm and safe,
And guard you with my sword."
She smiled and sat up, singing the next part of the song back to him. Elizabeth adored when he sang to her, which he did so infrequently that she considered it a real gift and a treat.
"And how she smiled and how she laughed,
the maiden of the tree.
She spun away and said to him,
No featherbed for me.
~o~
"I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,
And bind my hair with grass,
But you can be my forest love,
And me your forest lass."
He stroked his fingers softly against the side of her neck, leaning nearer until she was lying back again, looking up at him and listening once more to the words of his song.
"My featherbed is deep and soft,
And there I'll lay you down,
I'll dress you all in yellow silk
And on your head a crown."
~o~
"For you shall be my lady love,
And I shall be your lord.
I'll always keep you warm and safe,
And guard you with my sword."
She grinned. "I think you have dressed me in nothing but flowers, my lord."
"That is my favored choice of attire for my queen," he murmured, kissing her and leaning up to smile down on her.
Reaching a hand to the top of her head, she felt the blossoms in her hair. "You prefer me to wear flowers?"
"And me." He nudged her thighs open and settled immediately between her legs, smirking.
She drew in a sharp breath at his sudden, overwhelming invasion, her lids drifting lower over her eyes in pleasure. "Wear you, or be part of you?"
"Both," he whispered into her ear, pulling her close and stealing the last of her ability to speak for a time.
Feren leaned against a large elm, watching the other guards sitting scattered about where they waited idle with their horses close by, until they should be called for or the king and queen returned. He crossed his arms and suppressed a sigh. The months following the queen's loss had been very hard on the royal couple, as well as on all those who cared for them but were powerless to do anything but sympathize.
As someone who was privy to much that others never saw, he knew the king had been deeply concerned at just how far into grief the queen had descended, and that was the reason he had come seeking her today. He hoped the king would be able to reach her and affect a change, for it was no secret that mankind could fade from grief just as surely as elfkind could.
Watching his wife grow large with their second child, he felt almost guilty for his own happiness in the face of their sorrow. He loved his king and had come to love his queen with equal devotion. How did you even begin to offer condolences for such loss when you had never experienced it yourself? What was there to say that wouldn't be useless, empty words? Feren had no answer, and as a result said nothing. But he found himself praying to Iluvatar that his lord and lady might soon be returned to their previous felicity.
Thandir walked over and met the Captain's gaze, and though he said nothing, his eyes were full of the same worry and sadness for their queen that many of them wore. Renion stood and cocked his head to the side, listening, then came to join them.
"Do you hear that?" Renion asked, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips.
All the guards fell silent as a familiar song came to them on the wind in the king's deep voice, and the queen's sweet soprano followed. Their voices were richly full of love and joy, and many of the guards broke into smiles at the sound.
"Thank Elbereth," Thandir breathed, only loud enough for Feren and Renion to hear him. "Perhaps all will be well now."
Feren nodded, strong conviction in his brown eyes. "Yes." The final notes of the song faded away and the Captain smiled at last. "I believe it will be."
~o~
My Feather Bed by Karliene
