Hello all...warning emotional chapter ahead. I felt necessary for further developments and to close the war chapters up completely. Warning, you may find Thranduil's character distressing, but he is highly distressed and stressed, and exhausted by this point in the story. Yes it may be out of character, but he is out of his usual character at present. The plot is to get him back. Just a little fore warning before I get questions.

Please enjoy...


Chapter 53

The council chamber of the King is not always the most welcoming of places, nor was it ever designed to be. I liked to keep my dealings in such a place to a minimum as much as was possible when Oropher was alive. Often, when I received the summons to attend a council session it was merely just for showing up purposes. I would spend my time tucked a few seats away from the King, pretending to listen with rapt attention to things - that in those early days - I knew very little about. I had not the knowledge nor the experience I do now. The burdens of having to deal with, and thrash through, the tough day to day running of an entire kingdom had not yet landed at my very ill prepared feet. Now however I am not so innocent, or as easily intimated, at least not since my humiliating display in front of Galour months before.

The room itself is an interesting roundish shape, with the chairs and tables set in a sort of 'U' shaped design. At the head table…which by this stage is now laden with pitchers of wine and sliced up crusty loaves with tangy cheeses and the odd picked through bunch of grapes…sits the King. The fact that everyone has easily fell into the way of referring to Thranduil as King, is oddly disconcerting. I know he is now King, and Valar only knows I of all creatures should be more prepared for the title change than most, but there is no doubt that this is extremely surreal and difficult to wrap my head around. I can't quite help but think that if I am having such trouble with it, then Thranduil must be in a state of shock?

Well, if he is he doesn't show it!

Thranduil has taken to interpreting the phrase 'as still as a statue,' extremely seriously. I have yet to see him twitch even a muscle, not even to demonstrate his agitation or discomfort at the tediously long session. His face is entirely unreadable, and his eyes - those eyes that I search so often for the truth of his emotions - are void of thought, just cold coals of ice that barely flicker. He only speaks if necessary, and even then it is nothing above a breathy almost bored question, which would be fine if only his body language didn't scream intimidation and fury. He is frightening like this, and I am not sure if even I have the ability to temper his emotions if he decides to unleash his anger on Galour or his traitorous subjects.

So far this hearing has lasted well into the night, and everyone involved has been brought before Thranduil to give their version of events, right down to the very ladies who I turfed from our home that night. There really isn't much difference between all the stories, most elves have now had a time to stew over their misguided actions, and are only searching for some kind of pardon from their new King, but Thranduil is saving his judgements. If any subject begins to spew heartfelt apologies, he merely tilts his head away slightly, and some guard trails the poor soul from his presence. It is both thrilling, and slightly terrifying to observe. I have only ever seen Thranduil in an official capacity on a handful of occasions, and usually when he has a temper or an opinion everyone hears it, but not tonight. I get the distinct impression something has changed in him during these wars, he isn't himself, or maybe he doesn't trust himself? Either way he grips that staff of his like it is the only thing that keeps him sat on that chair.

Haston - which is Galour's nephew - sits on the left of Thranduil, a spectator of the proceedings. I sit closely by my husband's right side, by his request of course. To him I am the victim and deserve an honoured position in which to observe fair judgement. I also believe this is merely a show on his part. I am his wife, the mother of his children and his chosen Queen, he is not about to allow that matter to be thrown up for debate.

Before us on the floor now stands Calanon, who has only finished his summary of events, skimming tactfully over the insinuation that Thranduil's mother was an unstable murderer. I can honestly say that if that ridiculous lie comes to light Thranduil may actually be responsible for Galour's death. When my dear healer friend realises that Thranduil is not going to speak, he briefly bows and turns to quietly leave - much like every other witness thus far. There is a brief pause and a few hushed words between the council lords and their new King, then casually Thranduil leans forward and places his elbow on the ornate walnut table, flicking his wrist in a dismissive gesture;

"This hearing is adjourned," He speaks stonily through a tensed jaw, as he stares icily at the crowded room; "I will consider the evidence and you shall all know my judgement by the morning."

The room begins to empty with a sort of sedate and weary atmosphere, for I'm certain there are a lot of very tired individuals here. I suppose cleaning up political messes was not high up on some of these returning lords' agenda's.

Satisfied that he no longer has to sit rigidly in his chair, Thranduil sighs and almost seems to sag exhaustively into the velvet covered wood. His head falling heavily into his left hand, his eyes close briefly as he rubs the space between his brows were a small tension frown is beginning to appear. Instinctively I lean towards him outstretching my palm to rest on his knee, but before I do the shadowed figure of Haston appears over us, his eyes dark and not one bit impressed.

"Yes?" Thranduil snaps, his thick eyelashes flickering open to glower at the ellon before him with no small amount of disdain. His long fingers partially obscuring the splintering daggers he is mentally throwing at Haston, from his thunderous blue eyes - I really don't think this elf should stand so close.

"I beg your pardon, but, I do not believe you have questioned everyone my lord," Haston boldly tells his new King, whilst glaring coldly my direction. I feel my heckles rise in defence of myself, and my fingers curl around the arm of my chair as I glare defiantly back.

"Oh, was there someone else you wished to be dragged from their bed and tossed in front of an already irritable and unforgiving chamber of council lords, Haston? My children perhaps?" Thranduil snipes rather sarcastically, as he notes the look shared between he and I. In reaction to it, my husband elegantly folds his larger and protective hand over mine. The gesture would seem rather inconsequential if it did not speak volumes to the already infuriated Haston.

"I should have liked to hear the lady Clara's version of events," Haston requests arrogantly, and haughtily tosses his nose in the air; "After all it is she that put my uncle in the prisons - he and all of his presumably offending house. I feel it is within my rights to request the lady to say her part, obviously if she is innocent there should be no problem…unless of course you are demonstrating favourable treatment?"

Those leaving the council chamber all freeze, and suddenly the room is filled with a darkened fury that it is completely suffocating. It is so scarily quiet that one could hear a pin drop quite clearly. For a brief second Haston almost looks pleased with himself, that is until Thranduil suddenly launches from his chair and comes to tower over the relatively smaller elf. The younger warrior pales significantly, his smug look disappearing almost entirely only to be replaced with a healthy dose of fear.

"The lady Clara is answerable to no other but her King, she is under no obligation or duty to indulge your childish whims Haston!" Thranduil growls furiously, as he leans threatening into the other elf, his vicious ice like eyes holding him captive and unwilling to do anything but stare in utter panic, like how a fawn is petrified by the approach of the hunter.

"I-I-I…that is not…I mean," Haston splutters and visibly begins to tremble, and I spy a concerned few guards begin to shoulder their way back towards us.

"You requested a fair judgement of your Uncle's actions, and believe me Haston I shall make good on that request." Thranduil snarls, his face contorting into a sneer that would suggest he finds the notion almost amusing. "But if you think, for one second, you can waltz into this council and hide under the so called honourable name of your Lord Galour's house, then you are sadly mistaken. I will not have my authority tested and tempted by an elfling clinging to his uncle's coat tails! Remove yourself from my sight Haston, and be grateful that I am feeling merciful towards your unfathomable ignorance!"

With a further scowl of disapproval Thranduil steps back to appraise the young elf in his presence like he is observing something unpleasant, before carefully lowering himself back into his chair and tentatively crossing his right leg over his left, tilting his head away from the scene and returning to gently resting his forehead into his palm again. The guards quickly empty the room, and hastily drag a shaken Haston with them too. Only two loyal and brave guards remain to take up sentry duty at the door, and surprise surprise one of them is Galion - should have seen that coming.

I cautiously wait for a few minutes, considering that maybe he meant for me to leave the room as well, but he makes no bones about me being here. Carefully I outstretch my hand again and let it float over his knee, as I wrestle with the wisdom of touching him in this wound up state - he could likely verbally assault me too, or snap my hand off?

"I am not going to bite," Thranduil sighs tiredly as he peers around, dropping his hand so he can frown in slight agitation at my dithering.

"I am not so sure what you are capable of at this present time?" I try to joke back with a half hearted chuckle, as I gently place my hand on his knee and use my thumb to stroke it soothingly. "You should rest…even just for a few hours."

"I am afraid I could find no rest, even if I wanted it," He groans and leans into me to catch a stray strand of my hair to tuck behind my ear, pausing briefly to soothe the skin there with his thumb. His eyes are searching mine carefully, for what I am not so sure, but I don't feel compelled to pull away from his longing gaze.

"You are not angry or disappointed with my actions?" I whisper timidly, suddenly a little shocked as to how that fearful question slipped from my lips unbidden…like something pulled it from the very depths of my doubtful mind.

"Angry? No, that is absurd, you acted above reproach and handled it like an elf twice your age." Thranduil muses, as he hauls himself to his feet again and strides to the wine laden table to pour himself another excessively large drink, but pauses to throw me a smirk over his shoulder; "Admittedly that is not exactly terribly old, so should I assume you acted wisely in comparison to one of your mortal kin instead?"

"Oh I'm dying on the inside with laughter," I snort indignantly and reach out to take the cup of wine he offers me. I breathe in its strong heady scent, and almost feel my throat tingle with the spicy tang of the aroma - this is a very strong vintage, and he has been drinking it most of the night. He needs proper rest and pain relief to deal with his injuries, not this!

"Love, will you not come to bed…I'm worried?"

Frustratingly he doesn't answer me, and just continues to give me a crooked and almost amused smile, as if he finds my worrying precious. Instead he paces the floor to the furtherest wall where the fireplace still burns brightly, filling the room with the comforting scent of burning turf. There he places himself, poker straight and nursing his wine glass, with a humourless look in his faraway eyes. He stays like this for longer than I can stand to bear. His silences are baffling to me, for I was so used to knowing his thoughts, he used to be so open with me…so free in his emotions. Now all I sense is a closeted rage, behind iron walls that I doubt will not come down without a struggle. I could curse Haston for his interruptions! He was more vulnerable in his own surroundings, less guarded, he would have talked to me. Now I've lost him to his title - this name of King - it separates me from my sweet and endearing husband, and I hate it! But I know it is a necessary sacrifice, and the only thing helping me cope with this transition is the fact that I share a deep rooted bond with this elf, and behind all the ceremony my Thranduil is still there - I just have to be prepared to share him a little more now.

"Perhaps Haston was right to ask for my witness," I consider aloud, because I want to try and gauge his thoughts for he hasn't spoken in so long. Naturally he doesn't answer, and the only indication he gives to show that my comment was heard, is a brief flicker of his eyes my direction; "After all I did order the imprisonment."

"Does the wild bear make her apologises to the sly fox that crossed her in her own domain?" Thranduil asks me, his eyebrows raising questionably at the blank look I give in return for I assume this was rhetorical. He returns his hardened gaze to the fire and breathes out a lengthy sigh, before speaking again; "Unless the council are fools then the evidence already provided by the witnesses is damning enough. You, meleth nin, are above judgement of the common council by your very title. You are answerable only to me unless I, or the elder lords, believe my judgement is clouded in some way. In this instance I deem your actions just, as do the elder lords present…if they had of felt otherwise they would have voiced their concerns long before now. Young Haston is nothing more than a good civilian, and with his uncle's assets and titles frozen he has no authority to even speak to you without leave…let alone accuse you!"

His voice spikes hotly at the end, and he even swivels his whole body to face me. I assume from his flushed skin, and slightly trembling hands, that his anger over this has not ebbed away. I instantly drop my gaze and fidget with my embroidered silk sleeves, nodding my understanding as I do. I assume that I must also get accustomed to my new persona as Queen, and suddenly I am not so sure if it is in my nature to wield such absolute authority. But, alas, I don't think I have much choice in the matter so I may just learn!

"Clara, you know none of this was solely just about you, don't you?" Thranduil's softened voice pulls at my heart, and so I cautiously look up at him with what I assume must be a naive expression by the tender smile he gives. "All of this is a game, all of this is to test the fragility of new rule. Lord Galour wanted control, he always has had a fondness for it, I should have expected this…I just never expected him capable of such viciousness towards my family. I could -" Thranduil stops abruptly and harshly clamps his jaw tightly together before glaring hateful at the fire; "I could execute him for his treason!"

"And would you?" I gasp slightly, my chest tightening slightly at the thought that he probably could order it if he so well wished…but that is so wrong so against his elven nature; "Thranduil…could you truly do that?"

There is heartbeat of weighted silence, as I watch my husband's lips draw into a thin white line as he focuses intently on the flames. My brows pulls together in worry, and I daren't breathe for fear of disturbing the stillness. At last Thranduil slowly turns his head toward me, and allows his eyes to bore into mine, the coldness in them enough to steal away my warmth. In a low and deliberately even voice he answers;

"No…I can do worse."

xXx

I barely reach the dungeons in time, my feet scarcely touching the ground as I sweep down the long winding steps, my hands hardly touching the stone pillars as I move soundlessly through the ominous corridors.

"My lady…Clara?"

Galion's pleading voice is merely a distraction to my resolute mind. I know he is racing behind me, I hear his boots beat down on the stone but I could care little.

"My lady…the King has not permitted this!" Gallon cries breathlessly again, and I sense he is gaining on me, almost catching the billowing hems of my dusty rose coats. "Clara, he does not wish to alarm you!"

"Then he has forgotten who he is wedded too," I answer stubbornly, as I slow to a determined stride, glaring challengingly at the guards who man the last doorway; "Move!" I order, and they quickly fall away for me so I may storm into the gaol, in time to find my husband flanked by a handful of elder lords.

I am infuriated that he would neglect to inform me of his decisions. After our discussion in the council chamber he simply left, telling me to rest and that we would speak later of this. I thought later would be before he executed his judgements on Galour, I had hoped we could have discussed this and that he would at least involve me on some level. Not pushing me out like I am a nobody, like I am not also responsible for this sorry state of affairs. I just do not understand his behaviour, I don't understand why he would ignore me?

"My lord?" I call tersely and curtsy for my King - knowing full well it unsettles him when I do. Thranduil pauses mid conversation to stare, his jaw twitching reflexively at the formality of my approach.

"My lady wife," He bows his head respectively, whilst meeting my challenging glare with one of his own.

"I wish to be permitted an audience for Lord Galour's sentencing," I tell him, and jut my chin out defiantly; "I know you have requested that I not be present, and I respect that you do not wish to upset me but I should like to see the traitor who hurt my children, again, so I may have closure…if not for me then at least for them."

"I would not wish to give him another opening to hurt you further," Thranduil answers me evenly, but gives me a flash of a pleading look which rattles my resolve a little, but I refuse to be dissuaded.

"Even so, I am partly responsible for this and I will see it through to the end," I bob my head in finality and lower into another curtsy; "If my King wills it?"

"As you wish," He answers me coolly, but comes to my side and takes my hand in his briefly turning me away from the very small crowd, and leading me behind a set of arched stone pillars that ring the gaol. Lowering his voice, and cleverly tilting his lips to my ear, he voices his irritation; "Are you distrustful of me Clara? Do you think I am not capable of serving adequate justice…you speak of my children also!"

"This has nothing to do with questioning your abilities," I answer back through a forced smile, in our pretence that we are having a pleasant conversation; "I did this, I put this elf in prison for his crimes. As much as you wish to protect me, you are only making me appear weak in front of the council. You are the King, and my husband, I will always defer judgment to you…but I will not to be undermined!"

"If that traitor crawls out of his cell and hurls abuse at you…in my presence…Clara, my judgement will be compromised. I will kill him, easily, and I fear that both he and Haston know this, do you not see?" Thranduil hisses and squeezes my wrist a little too tightly. "Galour uses weaknesses to his advantage…you are my weakness. If either he or Haston intend to make a claim that I am unfit to reign, then they will use my temper to prove it."

"Then control it!" I seethe back through gritted teeth. "If one lowly elf can break you because of your pride in your love for me, then you are an easy target."

"How can you say that to me?" Thranduil gasps, anger and hurt rushing over his features as he pulls away from me, but I lace my fingers with his and hold him firm.

"Because I love you, and I know you are above all of this," I whisper urgently; "You are a thousand times the ellon Galour is. You do not fear him, or his manipulation, you are terrified of the title of King. I trust your instincts I always have, you taught me to trust mine, now follow your own advice. If you cannot trust yourself in the smallest of things, how do you expect your people to trust in you with the big things?"

For once, in this long night, Thranduil is vulnerable. He stares down at me with no small amount of awe, and quite obvious pain. He is exhausted, wounded, bruised, grieved, and entirely alone in his situation. I understand, I grasp he is trying to be everything and more for me and the children. His father would have taught him to rise to that standard, he would have drilled it into him to defend his family and take the burden without complaint. But, how does one balance the pressures of that, coupled with the overwhelming honour and duty to rule a realm, when one is just so defeated by war and sorrow? The answer is very simple…you don't. The only way to deal with it is to take it one uneasy step at a time, and accept that you are going to be scared witless, and at some point you are going to fail. I glance around the pillars, from our obscured and relatively private position, and then back to my husband, whom I absolutely adore without question.

"You think you are alone in this," I quickly murmur, as I twine my hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, and pull myself onto my tiptoes; "But you have me, you will always have me. I promise you that." I don't wait for his response, I just kiss him, and I don't care how inappropriate it is. It is only a fleeting brush of the lips, but it is enough to spark a painful jolt through our still healing bond. In response to the sensation Thranduil's hand flies to my neck, in either an attempt to draw me closer or push me further away, it is a conflicting moment and I feel his desire radiate through his fea.

"You are my focus and my distraction meleth," He breathes harshly, keeping his eyes firmly diverted from mine and his hand steady on my neck, holding me still; "I was wrong to not include you, this is as much your justice as it is mine. I will make Galour suffer for his crimes to you and my children, and when I am finished here I will see you in the King's library…that is not a request!"

In a swift motion he is gone from my side, and striding angrily across the expanse of the gaol, taking his place at the far edge, elevated on the ringed marble steps. I am breathless, and unsure as to the true intent behind his command. His anger has melded so completely with his passion, that I can barely tell them apart. His unpredictable moods, his stance, his silences…I am just so lost. I don't have time to consider the very mixed up and tumultuous emotions between us, because the crack of iron bars and drag of shackles on stone floor lifts my attention to the centre of the gaol.

The immediate hatred that consumes me is blinding, the very presence of Galour sends me into a frenzy of anger, yet I conceal it. I search my heart for some semblance of elven nature, finding a thin thread of decorum, I remember that a reaction is exactly what this idiot wants. Breathing in deeply I cast my eyes over the suddenly rather pitiful ex-lord. Suddenly he isn't so threatening, and all at once I see just an elven man bereft of any power and completely at the mercy of his superiors. In a moment I see myself exactly how he must have been viewed me; unsure, lost, inept, and floundering.

"It would serve you well to kneel before your King," Comes a familiarly protective voice, and I peer carefully around the safety of my pillar to watch Olban stand over the Galour threateningly. The guilty elf merely lifts his downcast expression to meet Thranduil's emotionless gaze, and I am amazed to see how he narrows his eyes appraisingly.

"I thought there was to be a coronation for there to be a King?" Galour mutters in faux confusion; "I have heard no celebrations from the depths of my cell. Why should I call this one King?"

"Because you called my father King," Thranduil answers swiftly, throwing out his hand to stall Olban from lifting his hand to thrash the brazen elf.

Carefully he descends the steps and begins to circle Galour, slowly and contemplatively, like a warrior weighing up the chinks in his opponents armour. Pausing slightly to the other elf's left, my unpredictable mate catches the straying eye of his subject;

"Did you forget that Galour? Have you forsaken the oaths you took to serve my father, the bonds of brotherhood that he spoke so highly of? You would do well to remember the only reason your head is still attached to your shoulders is because of the love my father bore you in the days of old. And now I hear that you slander his name, and speak false of his Queen…my mother? I do not understand Galour - what did I ever do to you to warrant such venomous hate? Did I not serve you in the way a Regent should? Did I offend in some way? Am I not fit to be King in your eyes, do I fall short of your ideals, or the ideals of my father…those borne out of Doriath?"

"I never insinuated that my lord was inept in any way, I have never suggested that you would be an unfit King," Galour snaps back at the suddenly disarming avenue Thranduil takes, and even I suddenly feel lulled by the feigned hurt in my husband's eyes. "Everything I did was in the pursuit of protecting this Kingdom, and ensuring that Oropher - who was so much like a brother to me - and his line would not be forgotten. I may have acted harshly, but she -" Galour spits and turns his head to look directly at me; "is no Queen, nor is she nobility or even of Sindar stock! I could not consciously allow her to rule, she would not have the faintest notion of how to preserve the ways of our people - the ways of your father. You may feel it a personal attack my lord Thranduil, but it was merely an act of survival under extreme circumstances, and not a direct insult to you."

"Oh, but it was."

The sudden shift in Thranduil's soft voice is scarily effective, for Galour flinches at the dark and low growl emendating from his King - who he has yet to acknowledge. Sweeping around in front of the now baffled, and now completely thrown elder, Thranduil captures him in a challenging look which renders him immobile and suddenly unsure of the direction of the emotion.

"She…" Thranduil motions politely my direction, "has a name, and a title, and two young elflings. She is my wife and Queen, and no circumstance is extreme enough to warrant her treatment. You took an innocent elleth, and member of my father's court, and ripped her of everything she held dear - from what a gather a dog would not have even licked her bones by the time you had finished putting her in her place! That was a personal attack Galour, and let us not forget the evidence you hid from the elder lords? My father's last orders to honour and protect Clara, as your regent and mother of your future King? Colour it whichever way you wish Galour, but you committed treason, and even the love of my father cannot protect you from that damning truth."

Thranduil turns away from the suddenly still elf, who now bows his head from the weight of his straight words. For a moment I believe Galour is about to own up to his failure, or at least feels he has a better shot at begging for mercy than denying the incident…but that would be wishful thinking. I should have known one so devious and manipulative would never retreat from a challenge. If Galour cannot win, he will take his opponent down with him.

"You are as treacherous and wicked as your witch of a mother," Galour spews vehemently, his eyes lighting with a jealous flame that seems to strike Thranduil hard, and I watch in dismay as his shoulders stiffen and his jaw tenses in response, I almost beg aloud for him to not react, to just keep walking. The traitorous scum of an elf smirks and lifts his gaze; "She ensnared your father, she trapped him and blinded him, like the devious outsider she was. A wicked and bored little she elf, she nearly had us all slaughtered…did you know that? I bet you didn't. Yes, your innocent Naneth, was a kinslayer and a foolish elf. She should have died in the flight from Doriath - and you along with her. You were never meant to be Thranduil…the house of Oropher should have died in Doriath…but I suppose the plains of Mordor were fitting enough for a penniless carpenter's son!"

There is an almighty crack as the back of Thranduil's hand collides with Galour's jaw, sending the elf tumbling backwards, the force landing him on the ground in disgraceful clatter. Blood sprouts from his bottom lip, and he tentatively lifts his hand to wipe the mess away, before chuckling darkly in response to the aggressive show. Thranduil trembles angrily over the terrible excuse for an elf, my very skin crawls at the sight of the elf who once ruled Oropher's councils with such haughty arrogance. Part of me is practically bursting with joy at the injured ellon, but the other part is seething and I can barely contain my own anger as I stretch out to grip the pillar for support.

"I should render your head from your shoulders," Thranduil snarls and in a flurry of movement unsheathes a blade from the startled guard to his right, and points the tip straight under Galour's chin; "I should cut you where you lie, and let you bleed out slowly so you will know the torment suffered by those who fought and died on those plains just so you could sit and sneer in your opulence and fortune. What right have you Galour…hm? Tell me have you ever bled for this Kingdom, or for Doriath? Have you ever had your pampered and princely hands soaked crimson for the sake of the freedom of others? No…well maybe it is high time you learned what it feels like!"

There is an inhale of collective breath, and then suddenly a surge of hands as all rush to restrain Thranduil from something he would ultimately regret. It is instinctual for me to rush from the protective shadows of the pillars as I slide in front of my husband and collide with his chest…my hand raised to right the one he uses to hold the sword. A long second passes as I curl my fingers around his left cheek and hold him steady;

"No," I whisper, as I squeeze the wrist he has tensed in his grip of the sword; "He doesn't deserve death…at least not by the hand of a King, nor even by the hand of the brave people he insults with his ignorant wickedness."

Thranduil pulls back a little to lock his wild and wrathful eyes with mine, and as we remain together I feel his breathing even out and his nerves steady. With a new look of infuriated realisation, at the manipulative methods used by Galour, Thranduil eases me to the side and casually tosses the sword away. In a violent but swift movement he drags Galour to his feet by his throat and holds him securely;

"I was feeling merciful your vile rat…I was going to allow you the option of banishment from my Kingdom with the members of your house and your belongings intact, providing you pleaded guilty to your crimes and admitted responsibility for the severe damage you caused both my wife and my children," He seethes viciously right into Galour's slightly greying features; "This could have been righted, you could have saved your own..but you had to push me didn't you…don't you know it is unwise to provoke an unhinged beast in his own lair? You stupid creature,if you truly believe I am the son of a witch would it not be wise to hold your tongue?"

Suddenly, a bubble of elvish rolls up from Thranduil's chest like a swarm of angry bees. The words spill from his lips in such a way that it sounds like a curse, an angry and malicious curse. The room darkens and the aura of my husband turns bleak and desolate, his pain and anger evident in every word he lashes over Galour's now stricken spirit. The other elf lets out a bewildered cry as he topples to the ground when released from Thranduil's grasp. He pulls at the roots of his hair as he reels from the surge of power wielded over him. I flinch away from the scene in shock, but I note how the faces of the others present seem to be in resolute agreement with their King's. Slandering Oropher's name was the last and final nail that sealed Galour's fate. There is nothing redeemable about this elf, he is no friend of the Silvan of Greenwood, he has no love for their King.

"Bind and blindfold him, take him from our forest and leave him to fend for himself in the wild North," Thranduil orders in a dead voice, his eyes still cold and penetrating as Galour weakly lifts his head to stare in sheer terror at his sentencing; "Let it be known that this elf is a traitor to the King, and to the Silvan of Greenwood. Brandish him with a mark you deem fit, so our kind will know if he walks among us again, and if he does so let him be dealt with harshly."

"But…my lord…my King?" The traitor bleats weakly and reaches out pathetically for Thranduil's robes. I practically recoil at his approach, but Thranduil merely stares emotionlessly, for he has simply disconnected himself from any feelings he may have for the elf; "What of my wife…of my nephew…of the members of my house? Are they to be punished for crimes they did not commit."

"And why should I care for a house of traitors?" Thranduil simply asks dryly and tilts his head to the side in a pondering motion; "Fine…if your wife adheres to my previous stipulations she is banished under disgrace by affiliation, but she will be bear no seal of traitor. Your Nephew may stay, for he was a warrior and I do not forget his sacrifices for his Kingdom, but the honour of your house is no more. Your Nephew will live here under his own merits - no greater or no less than any brave Silvan who has returned from the wars. Maybe then he will be able to see the errors of snobbery and haughtiness, maybe then may he redeem the disgraced name you have lumbered him with."

With a sigh and wearied look, Thranduil turns away from the scene and before another word can be spoke Galion rushes to provide him with his staff which he accepts and leans heavily on. His face becomes drawn, and aged, for a moment I do not recognise him. Then his bowed shoulders straighten, his jaw tightens, and his glistening eyes spin to pierce Galour one last time;

"Galour, do you repent of your crimes of treason?" He asks coldly, but Galour merely grits his teeth buckling under Thranduil's icy glare. His silence is damning enough, the resounding silent 'NO' is almost tangible, and so Thranduil sighs and turns his head away from the scene; "So be it…you are henceforth branded a traitor and banished to the northern lands. Remove this rat from the presence of my wife, there is nothing left to be said here."

xXx

Hesitantly I tap the doors of the private library, pausing briefly to smile timidly at the two guards that stand either side. Neither of them break their resolute stares when they offer me perfectly timed salutes. If I felt I could, I would have asked them in what state was my husband, for he left the dungeons so quickly that I didn't even have the chance to follow. Sadly these two don't seem like the informant type so I guess I will have to face this without assistance. When I get no answer I push on into the room anyway, inhaling deeply as I do. I am not frightened of my own husband, he may be King but he is still my sweet and oddly awkward Thranduil…who used to walk into doors and argue with inanimate objects.

The door bangs closed a little too loudly behind me making me jump clean out of my skin - well that blew my cover! Shaking my head at my stupidity I pad on into the room, with it's ceiling high book cases on every wall, its large overstuffed settees and lounge chairs, it's crackling fireplace and cherrywood desks. I meander round a rather ornate and wide bookcase, that quite literally splits the room in two, and predictably find Thranduil hunched over a desk at the far end. His hands balled into fists pressing down into the wood, his back bowed and his head forward, making his platinum hair fall over his shoulders so it touches the polished surface of the desk. At my arrival he looks up, his lips a thin hard line and his brows drawn together.

"You requested my presence here?" I remind him quietly as I smooth my hands along the front of my coat skirt. When I get nothing but the silent treatment, I roll my eyes upwards and sigh shakily; "I am sorry Thranduil, I didn't intend for this to be your welcome home."

"I didn't intend on leaving you and the children in the care of wolves," He snipes back, making a disgusted sound at the back of his throat as he straightens up and walks around the front of the desk. I note the anger still evident in his features, and how the tendons in his arms and hands flex and protrude in his temper.

A long silence hangs in the air between us, but eventually he breathes in sharply and in a few resolute strides he closes the distance between us. Taking my hands in his, I am alarmed to find that they tremor slightly…whether by anger, or fatigue, I cannot be sure? I peek curiously up into his hardened features, dismayed to find them as unreadable and empty as before.

"Thranduil…" I begin softly, pulling my hand from his to trace his face with my fingertips; "What are you thinking? I can't read your thoughts, I can't understand you if you don't tell me what is going inside that thick skull of yours?"

The sly comment earns me a slight smirk, and I grin triumphantly at the reaction. It is true, his head must be hard as rock to have survived the numerous beatings he has taken. With a sag of his shoulders, he catches my fingers with his and pauses my exploration of his jaw;

"I was not expecting all of this," Thranduil groans slightly but waves his hand before I can reply; "Do not apologize Clara, none of this was your fault. I only mean that I was not expecting all of this to change so suddenly! I thought…well I thought I would just know what to do or how to act when I returned home, but truthfully I don't know and it feels like I am failing before I even begin."

"Stop it," I scold quietly and wind my hands around his waist, pulling him close; "Thranduil, how else are you to be expected to act? That was a massive blow and you are barely home a day. Other warriors are recovering with their families, and slowly getting used to the idea of being home. I am certain none of them are coming home to rule a Kingdom, and I am also pretty sure no one is expecting you to act like everything is wonderful."

"Still, I do not believe effectively sentencing an elf to death on your first day home is considered a good omen," Thranduil scowls and clamps his hands around mine at his back to gently pull away from me, but I don't allow him. Instead I tug him roughly, ensuring he looks at me.

"You banished him, that is not a death a sentence…and for his crimes he deserves no less," I reiterate, because I have no love for Galour and his traitorous house; "No one is in disagreement with you, you did what you had to do. He slandered your parents! I know others who would have disfigured him for speaking such lies."

"But what if they are not lies!" Thranduil snaps, and I frown in shock at the absurdity of his comment; "Adar never spoke of what drove my Naneth into her melancholies, he just said she was broken by the ghosts of Doriath. I assumed it was the death of her kin, but I knew deep down there was something more…but Adar only punished me if I pried too deeply. I let it go, but now it feels others no more of me than I do. How does he expect me to rule with such secrets? Why could he not just…"

In a temper, Thranduil twists away from me and swings his fist at the bookshelf. The resounding crack and thud of the wood breaking and the books falling makes me flinch. He throws his weight against the shelf and leans his forehead against the wood, breathing in deep and angry breaths, in what I assume is his attempt to deflect from his emotions. Calmly I step over the fallen books and place a gentle hand on his quivering shoulder;

"Why could he not just - what? Finish your sentence," I encourage and squeeze his arm, knowing fool well what he really wants to say, what his heart truly feels. "It is okay to feel it, no matter how petty it seems."

He let's out a shuddering breath, and I watch his jaw unclench and his hands loosen on the wood as he succumbs to the inevitable grief. After a moment he straightens up and slowly turns again to face me, his eyes so haunted and lost that my heart lurches in my chest.

"Live…why could he not just live?" Thranduil answers me in a soft and broken whisper, the unshed tears gather in his eyes, and in a moment their grief is replaced with seething resentment, then utter devastation. Steadily he seems to make his way through his emotions, until at last he settles with the ever present sadness that surrounds his whole being like a thick smoke.

I have no words, I just simply nod and wrap my arms around him again. There is nothing to say really, because it is a very simple question - why? A simple question that seems to cause so much havoc. Silently I consider all of my husbands revelations, and come to the conclusion that Galour intended to put those doubts in his head. I seethe quietly over that consideration, because that is so very Galour - sowing seeds of doubt in already troubled hearts. I cannot believe there is any real truth to his remarks, for Lassiel seemed to be so loved here, but if there is then there is little that can be done about it. The past is the past, and the mistakes or ghosts of his parents have passed away with them. Their life and history was another time, another world, they are not his and he doesn't have to be ruled by them.

"Do you love your parents? Did you trust their judgements?" I ask quietly after some time has passed. Thranduil nods almost immediately and glares angrily at the mere suggestion that he wouldn't. I smile and place a finger to his lips before he attempts to argue; "Then what does it matter about what they may or may not have been. While they ruled here they were loved deeply, and they returned that love…did you not once tell me that if you had the chance to runaway and start afresh you would have done so? Well, this was your parents fresh start, and this is yours. Don't let the jealousy of one who does not know the significance of such things taint your memories…sometimes we don't need our past to define us, trust me I know."

It takes a minute, but slowly a timid smile begins to form across Thranduil's lips. The light in his eyes begins to glimmer softly, it is still dull but it is there. Gently he lifts his hand and with a featherlight touch, pushes the messy waves of my blonde hair from my eyes. I blush a little at the seemingly intimate gesture, and return the same shy smile. Carefully he weaves his other arm around my back, pulling me against him, and softly caressing the curve of my hip with his hand. Leaning into me, so our foreheads touch, he kisses me. Just a soft hopeful kiss, that holds a little promise.

"Valar knows I do not deserve you," Thranduil breathes out as he pulls away from the lingering kiss to cup my cheek and stare into my eyes, so unnervingly deep that I am certain he is seeing my soul; "I feel calm just being with you…I love you, all of you, and I am so sorry for the scars I caused." When he tells me this I feel his hand at my hip slide to rest just under my breast, my heart begins to pump more furiously and the threads of my mangled spirit begin to weave and stretch longingly for their counterpart.

"I love you, there is no need for apologies," I soothe and nuzzle into his neck, pressing my lips to his jaw. I let out a soft and breathy sigh as his spirit quietly calls and coaxes mine…it has been so long since I heard and felt it so clearly. Throwing my arms around his shoulders, I cautiously lift my gaze to his and attempt to articulate a warning or reason to pause this.

"Sshh," Thranduil warns, his brows rising up when I attempt to argue, his lips finding mine again only a little more aggressively than before. When he pauses, slightly breathless and disorientated, he murmurs painfully; "I just want to forget, let us enjoy this peace for a little while.

I gasp softly as his lips eagerly begin to kiss up my neck and across my jaw. His hands slide down my curves again and tighten on my hips, pulling me closer, and then I feel his lips form over mine in another breathless and uncoordinated kiss that makes me stagger back at the shock.

My back collides with the bookshelf, and I give a sort of a yelp when Thranduil seizes my arm and pins it away from my body, his fingers entwining with mine as he stretches out his lean torso against my soft curves. He continues his desperately deep kisses, and I barely remember that I should kiss back…I am just so stunned. This doesn't feel right, he doesn't feel like himself, there is pain in his passion and it is like he is trying to escape it through me. I wrestle with my resolve for a moment, because part of me is all to happy to give in to the physical need driving us both, but it feels wrong. It feels like I would be taking advantage, even though he is the one domineering the moment, but is he? His spirit calls to me like he is pleading for more than just a comforting solace, and his hands do not stray, nor does his body give away his excitement…no, something is not right.

"Thranduil…easy," I calmly twist my hand to press his abdomen, in my attempt to remind him of his injuries. This works, he winces and pulls away from the kiss to glance downward; "You have to take this gently, there is no rush."

"I-I'm fine," He stutters and shakes his head, as if dislodging something. Again he attempts to kiss me, but I don't even form my lips to meet his, I even twist my face away; "Clara…I promise I am well."

"Thranduil," I soothe gently and clasp his face in my hands, meeting his gaze, only to find his eyes swimming with unshed tears; "You are not fine-"

"I promise I am well enough for this," He smiles breezily, but none of it reaches his devastated eyes. In an urgent, almost pleading manner he runs his hands up and down my shoulders, a little to fast to be soothing. "Please Clara, I just want to be near to you," He mutters and kisses me again, but still I do not cooperate as he would like me too; "I just want to forget," he tells me again as he glances accusingly at me; "A few moments of your peace, that is all I need to forget…please?"

I firmly keep a sober and sympathetic expression in place as my poor, battle worn, and utterly exhausted husband begs me to allow him to take solace in me. In any other occasion I would not think twice, but this is not what he is yearning for, and I know even if he wanted to he wouldn't get very far. He is, after all, elf kind and the act of love is never just a physical thing for us. It is so much part of the spirit as it is the body, and right now his spirit is in utter chaos. He would find no solace in the act, even if I gave all I head to comfort him. This is grief, and it has hit him just a little to fast and a little to hard - I knew this would happen if he didn't get the rest he needed.

"I just want to forget," Thranduil begs off me again, but this time it comes with the beginnings of a choked sob. "Please…I want to forget."

"Ssshhh," I quietly wrap my arms around his shoulders and draw him into me, feeling his heart hammer and his anxiety peak; "It's going to be okay, this is going to pass."

"Please take it away," He cries brokenly into my shoulder and suddenly his weight crashes into mine; "Clara…please…I don't know how?"

I gently slide us to the floor, because I cannot hold him upright any longer, and I let him curl into my side to grieve. He continues to babble out nonsensical pleas for a little while, in his vain attempt to not cry, but eventually the tears come. Slow and angry at first, but soon they are free flowing down his cheeks, and with them I sense his spirit finally lightening. He grips the material of my sleeves and tries to articulate what pains him the most, but all I can do is hold him and let him be.

He bitterly laments his father's name, and in his sorrow I learn that he watched Oropher be brutally hacked up in front of him. I begin to cry fiercely too at the revelation, for the sorrow is so bitterly close it is inescapable. He speaks of fire, and death, and eventually he just begins to list off names. Names of soldiers who he lost. He begins to tell me of the promises he made to dying warriors, of all the families he must go to and offer them some kind of acknowledgment or comfort for their loved ones sacrifice. At the very last he brokenly chokes out a name I never expected..Bregeth.

He informs me she was slaughtered in defence of him. The guilt in his voice over her is almost unbearable for me to hear, but I cannot allow petty emotions to rule here. At the very mention of her death he begins to fret over Legolas, and I quickly ascertain this is why he hoards such guilt. He keeps insisting he failed, and I keep incessantly telling him he hasn't. He speaks of the endurance of ring, he berates himself until he has no energy left, and then eventually he falls asleep in my embrace, with my lips pressed to his temple as he rests turned into my chest

This is how we stay, and I don't move for fear of rousing him from the only peace he has had in so long. I feel his fea at rest as he breathes in long and steady breaths, his heart slowing to a soft and lulling beat. I gently run my fingers through the lengths of his gleaming hair, enjoying the soft sleekness of the platinum strands. I cry quietly for him, because I felt his spirit in his grief and the sorrow was almost unbearable. I cannot begin to imagine the horror he witnessed nor do I want to. There is still some terrible memory that clutches his heart, and I don't know if I can ever fix it. This is truly the most devastating realisation for me. This is, to me, the senselessness of war. When it takes something beautiful and breaks it! I can only have faith in the hope that time may help put him together again, and I'll never give up on that hope…I'll never give up on him.

In the loneliness of the hours that tick by, I find my mind wandering over the necessary things. I conclude that I should move soon, and find someone to care for my husband so he can rest. I have to check on the children, but I also have to go to the Healing Halls and discover the extent of the damage for myself. I know for a fact Aradan is missing a limb, and this is such a stomach churning thought that I immediately panic over Ollie. She'll be devastated, not because her husband is so horrifically mutilated but because she'll want to help and not know how? And I know Aradan, he'll be so stubborn about this that it will upset Ollie. Oh I need to do something!

Regrettably I have to semi awaken Thranduil, but only to manoeuvre him to one of the large settees by the fire. He is so utterly exhausted that he doesn't argue or fully regain consciousness, as I plonk him down on the overstuffed fabric and ensure he is draped in his robes. I kneel by his head and carefully kiss his brow, taking a moment to truly appreciate the softness of his liquid silvery blue eyes as he dreams peacefully. I silently pray that his thoughts are somewhere pleasant, and that they remain there until I return.

Carefully I pick my way across the room and peek out the door to speak to the guards. However on exiting, I suddenly find that I am nose to nose with a familiar face, and I frown slightly in agitation.

"Galion?" I squeak and fold my arms about my chest, as I observe the young elf before me, who clutches a ceramic jug and bowls in his hands.

"Oh…ugh…my lady Queen," He yelps back and falls into a deep bow. "I, em, well I gave the guards a small reprieve. I hope you don't mind. You see I brought the King some food…from the kitchens…I used to be employed in service there before the war…I didn't steal! They know me, and well…I still have contacts."

"And did his majesty ask for ill gained food?" I ask and raise an eyebrow, enjoying myself way to much at the expense of the ellon.

"N-n-no, I just was worried that he hadn't eaten," Galion mews softly and begins to look a little forlorn; "I did not mean to disturb you both…oh…oh my…oh I am so sorry if I intruded on…on ah…well personal matters."

Galion blushes an incredible letterbox red and I practically splutter in his face. Oh he is so amusing, I can see why Thranduil kept him around, he reminds me of me when I first started - thoughtful, but entirely green, and definitely entertaining. My teasing grin alerts him that I am just playing with him, and a not so impressed frown faintly appears on his features, though he tries hard to hide it.

"I'm sorry Galion," I say with a tired smile; "It has been an awfully long night and day, and I tend to get less reasonable and more sarcastic when I'm tired. Truth be told you interrupted nothing personal, Thranduil is sleeping…at last…and I'd be so very grateful if you would keep an eye on him whilst I attend to some urgent necessities. I don't want him disturbed, if it is so urgent then send it to me…I'll be in the Healing Halls."

"Oh, yes of course ma'am," Galion proudly puffs up his chest at being selected to tend his King, and I give a fond smile. He bows again, turns on his heel to enter the library, but then stops and considers something;

"My lady, some supper to take with you? I am certain you must be famished."

"Thank you," I reply as I take the wrapped bundle from him, noting that it feels like cured meats or salted fish, so I take a tentative sniff…oh yea, that's fish. I remember my manners and turn my attention back to Galion; "You know my husband was very fortunate to have you by his side. I know he suffered Galion, but it makes the pain of such a truth easier to bear knowing he was surrounded by such friendship and love. I just want you to know that I appreciate it."

"It was nothing," Galion blushes deeply again and ducks his head bashfully; "Truly I should be the one thanking you. I don't know what you did my lady, but you reached him out there in that wasteland. He didn't come back from the brink just for us, just to do his duty, he had something to come home to…and I think that maybe gave us all a little hope."

It is my turn to fluster, as I push my hair behind my ears and drop my gaze. When I meet his eyes again he gives me an encouraging smile, which for some reason brings tears to my eyes, and this makes him nervous. Quickly I rearrange my features and wave off his concern;

"I'm sorry, it's just, well I hear your praise and it touches me but I don't think my husband is quite free of his trauma yet," I sigh and press my arm to my forehead; "I wish I could do more Galion, I wish I knew how to help him, to empathise or understand his pain?"

"I do not think you can," Galion murmurs sadly, but sympathetically reaches out to take my hand to give it a squeeze; "I believe he knows you are trying, and I am certain he is most appreciative of it. But, my lady, it was a war that will haunt even me forever and your husband shielded me from most of it. If I cannot forget the horror, then I am afraid this may be something that you cannot fix. But, you can learn to live and grow from change…yes? Your world can change but you can overcome it? Isn't that true…isn't that what you did? Maybe you can show our King…maybe that is why the Valar sent you to us."

I only manage a smile and nod, because I wrestle to much with the tears that threaten to escape. His words are so touching, so potent, so humbling, that I have to restrain myself from hugging him. I am a Queen now, and I don't think that is acceptable. Galion bows once more for me before confidently striding into the library, leaving me to my thoughts, and my plans, and my musings. Maybe he is right? Maybe, in some twisted way I can help Thranduil. I am never going to understand the horrors of what he has witnessed and struggled through, but I can understand change.

With a resolute bob of my head, I tie my hair back from my face and turn in the direction of the Healing Halls. Gallon is right, I can figure this out, and if I can't figure it out I can creatively string something together. It is to the future we have to look, and though it must be frightening and uncertain for Thranduil, I know it is bright and full of promise. Not just for him, but for all of us…I hope?


Thank you all for the amazing reviews, ongoing support, and friendship. It's great to hear many of you are writing and publishing your own fictions now as well, and the fact some of you include me on that journey is just really heartwarming. So if any of you guys enjoy twilight fan fictions, my very good friend and long time reader "Lizzie Ace," has written a beautiful and unique fic called "The Feeing." It be pretty cool if you'd support her awesome talent.

Anyhoolove and virtual awkward hugs for you guys;

uncertainelf19, petapan, Beautiful77, Rousdower, Lucinda Silver, Wagthedog, lilarin, foofie01, Siriania, EdenMae, TheMightyOkwaho, Spriggan, Rosegold1996, Beachchick3, CharNinja LOL, Alexandrion, Pheonyx634, Lady Syndra, Raider K, ladymoonscar, SarahBloomSakura, DeLacus, gossamermouse, Lady Ravanna, PureAngelEyes, Rodidor, Teddybear 007, crazykenz, Tibblets, mariihamadeh, Erwynia,

Baow: INDEEDSEVEN LONG YEARSand all that horror and emotion, and some guy with a grudge has to ruin it. Don't worry, he'll get his rewardsand Clara and Thranduil might eventual get theres.

Emily: Thank you so very much! Yes the numerous subplots are often difficult to pull together but I think it is what keeps the story open and moving. I am glad you recognised and praised them, I feel honoured :)

truebluevamp: Well I have a plot roughly sketched out for Clara and Thranduil to the hobbitregarding the necklaceyes it may be mended by dwarves. You will see the company and lake town soon, as I don't tend to rewrite all of the next 3000 years.

Guest: I don't think he handled it very wellremember me to not upset the ElvenKing.

Guest: Yes I do imagine him to various wild animals depending on his various moods. Thank you so much, for it means a great deal that enjoy and agree with the characterisation of Thranduil.

Madam X: Thank you :) i hope you enjoyed.

Shiva: Your welcome :)

Diannak: ahem *looks shifty* I cannot possibly comment on that for fear I would cause emotional trauma. Who says the tragedy would be the OCwho says I won't go canon on this fic? Hmmmoh heavens above I am so mean and twisted. I apologize, but I'm not sorry for making the future Glorfindel/OC story a tragedy. It will make sense I promise. Everything will be okayeventually.

Sam: So happy the family reunion was as emotive as hoped. Thank you!

leafygreen16: Galour did indeed get his ass kickedthank you :)

Guest (who reviewed c50) : As much as I understand your frustrationand in this day and agewere we tend to not place much value on human life (we be very comfortable in this modern of times), we don't really have this mindset that Tolkien would have used. You have to understand that if Elrond killed Islidur he would have started an all out war between elves and mensomething that has been pretty testy since the good ole days when the sons of Feanor were still kicking around and causing chaos. The point isand please cast your mind back to the fellowship of the ring (movie if your must)Galadriel, the most powerful elf in existence at that stage, could not handle the power of the ring being in her dominion. Rememberscary swamp monster get upby the fact that she was marginally able to resist meant that the Valar could forgive and she could go home. Elrond is powerful, but not aswho is to say he could or could not have resistedand if he killed a man in cold blood, well that is almost unforgivable? Lest we remember Islidur just saved the day - Islidur of the great line of Kings, probably distantly related to Elrond - his men believe he has done the right thing, his dad just got murdered. Could you imagine the outrage if Elrond Sparta kicked him into mount doom, and was just like "Neh, screw it, its only one dudehe deserved it." You've got to remember they don't have hindsight at this present time, they don't know exactly the strength of the ringand there is no amount of one crazy girl (who claims she is from another world) and her admittedly crazy lover bouncing around telling everyone about the futureso sadly the same story played out. Only with major guilt.

So guysalmost 2K reviewsthat is insane! I actually cannot believe this has happened and I feel like a lucky lucky girl. So as always I love hearing from you, reading your thoughts and musings etc. Its always welcome. Again sorry for the heavy chapter, but I felt it had to happen to lead onto the drama and action of the coronation and the changing times. Our poor hero had to hit that wally'know? Anyhow I look forward to your thoughts as always, love you all and speak soon :)