Hello all!

I have returned from taking the last 2 weeks off. It was very nice to be able to relax and do a little more thinking about the next couple of chapters.

This is the second chapter that will help to explain the back story. I hope that it helps and that you haven't forgotten too much of the plot :) While not all your questions will be answered, some will.

Not the longest chapter ever, but not too bad if I say so myself.

Thank you DakotaPevensieGreenleaf!

Enjoy…

Out of Mirkwood

Scribbles-on-Parchment

January 18, 2020

Chapter 26 – Thranduil's Account

Thranduil softly closed the great oak door to his room before leaning against it. He had sent Thalion away, telling his trusted friend to post a guard at his door to make sure no one disturbed him. He needed to be alone for a while to think and get his emotions under control once more.

The elven king pushed himself away from the door and walked slowly over to his desk. He needed a drink. It had been millennium since his emotions had felt this erratic. Picking up the crystal flask from its usual place on his desk, he pulled the glass stopper out and let it fall with a loud thunk; right onto the papers he had still to do. The Sinda walked away, taking a large drink of the intoxicating crimson liquid as he did so.

He wanted to drown out all his shame at the words he had spoken to his oldest son and all memories of Legolas. He just wanted to forget everything. To be free of the suffocating grief and regret.

The elf lord took another swig of wine and frowned as he noted that the bottle was already half empty. Cursing, Thranduil slammed it down onto a table near the window. He would need many more bottles before the alcohol would even begin to take effect.

Thranduil sat at his desk staring angrily at the cold fireplace. Seven wine bottles sat empty, strewn across his desk. Some of the strongest wine in the whole of Mirkwood had been sent up to him, yet still painful emotions cut at him.

The elven king turned his gaze to the eighth bottle, still in his hand. He swirled the red liquid around, watching as the last of the wine caught the fading light and shimmered. The Sinda shook his head. What was he doing? Had the wine finally begun to take hold?

He quickly emptied the bottle and set it down onto the table. He had lost all track of time, but the light in the room had dimmed considerably. It was getting late.

Thranduil stood up slowly with a sigh. Perhaps he should just retire for the night. Nothing seemed to be helping him forget his pain and misery. He was beginning to doubt if he would ever be free, or if even in his dreams he would be plagued with worries and pain.

As the elven king entered his sleeping chambers he paused. A fire had been lit in the hearth brightening up the dim room. It's dancing light seemed to settle on the only painting in the room. A portrait of his family. Not the way it was now, but the way it had been for many years. He had had it made several years after his wife's death; a symbol for him of what he still had left. What he still had to live for.

Thranduil walked over to the painting, eyes fixed on one face. The young elfling stood by his father's side, blue eyes sparkling with joy and life, a small smile almost a playful smirk splayed across his lips. This was the Legolas he would always remember.

The ellon did not even notice the tear that fell from his eye and onto the expensive rug beneath him. Thranduil lifted his hand up to his son's face. But there was no warmth in the painted flesh, no giggle, no life in his ion. The elf lord quickly dropped his hand to his side. Of course, it was only a painting. His son was gone. Perhaps the wine had gotten to his mind after all.

Thranduil turned away from the smiling faces on the wall. He would have it removed in the morning.

As he began to let his elegant robes fall to the floor, Thranduil stumbled forward, just catching himself from an ungraceful fall. He straightened up, shaking his head. What was this? The wine could not have made him this clumsy so quickly.

The elf lord took a step toward the door to his chambers, but his legs felt weak and trembled under him. His vision blurred and he felt himself fall to his hands and knees. Why was he gasping for breath? He felt strangely detached from the rest of his body.

The wine had been poisoned.

Thranduil's mind went black and he collapsed onto the floor, lips slowly turning an unhealthy shade of blue.

Flashback – 2,600 years earlier in the Greenwood

"You must go meleth nín. You have put this off for far too long."

Thranduil turned away from his wife, "You know why Elrond has called this meeting. Why should I go? What is the point?"

"The darkness in the forest is growing. Yrch and spiders press our boarders every day. We cannot fight this alone. You know this."

The elleth put a hand gently on her husband's arm, "Go. Meet with Elrond. Sign the treaty. Do it for me. Lesten"

Thranduil turned and looked into her silver-grey eyes, "If it is your wish then I will go."

He gently kissed Sílrien, "But I only do this for you."

"Le hannon. Le melithon anuir."

Thranduil was tired of all the formality. He knew what it was Elrond wanted. Why would the blasted elf not just say it?

"Of course. I know how difficult it is for you to leave your kingdom, especially in such a dark time we now live in."

The Sinda felt his anger rise. Were they insulting him? Were they trying to make him mad?

"Do you think that my wife and advisors are not capable of taking care of the Greenwood while I am away?" Thranduil could hear the murmuring of the other elves around him, but he ignored them. He didn't care what they thought.

"No not at all," the Noldo stammered lowering his gaze quickly, "I meant only that…"

But Thranduil did not wish to hear any more. All he wanted to do was finish this and get back to his wife and young son.

"I care not. Just get on with the treaty, for that is no doubt why you have called me here," the elven king could tell that his voice was rising in anger, but he didn't do anything about it. He would shout if it meant this meeting would be over sooner.

Elrond just stared at him; brown eyes narrowing.

"You wish for the aid of my kingdom if Imladris is ever attacked and if we are in need of aid you will help us," Thranduil did not word it as a question, but as a statement.

He knew he would sign the treaty that they brought out. Not because he wanted to, but because Sílrien asked him to do so. And if it made her feel safe and happy, that was all that mattered to him.

"Hîr nín, you have received a letter."

Thranduil slammed his chalice onto the table making some of its contents spill onto his desk.

"Can you not see I am busy? I have a kingdom to run and a war with the yrch to fight, I do not need to be bothered with some letter."

"Mellon nín," Tamír's voice made him turn his head, "This is a letter that you should be bothered with. It is from Imladris."

The elven king reached for the letter in his General's hand and tore open the seal. His eyes skimmed over the contents of it as the ellon started to clean up the spilled wine. After a moment Thranduil leaned back and let the letter fall the floor,

"How did they find out?" he turned his gaze upon his trusted friend, "I made it very clear that they were not to be told. We do not need their help. We are strong enough. Who told them?"

Tamír bent to pick the letter up from the ground, "Perhaps no one told them, and they found out on their own. It is not such a bad thing. Think about how many lives will be spared. The battle will be over twice as quickly."

Thranduil's eyes hardened, "You told them. You sent them a letter because you knew I would not."

"Thranduil!" Sílrien's normally gentle voice was hard with anger, "Hold your tongue. You know not what you speak of. Why must you be so angry at my lord Elrond? What had he ever done to deserve this from you?"

The elven king turned his gaze away from his friend to see his wife standing by the door, "Leave Tamír. I will speak with you later."

There was silence as the ellon passes Sílrien and shut the door.

"You have changed Thranduil. What has made you so full of anger and hatred? I remember an ellon who was kind and gentle."

Sílrien's words cut at the king's heart.

"I know that the darkness has been growing in your heart, but do not let it also cloud your judgment. What is it that you fear the Noldor will do?"

When he did not respond Sílrien lifted her husband's head up, "Just because they broke a treaty with us once before does not mean they will do it again. They had just cause to do so the first time. Your adar was full of greed and not in his right mind. This is not the same."

Thranduil leaned into his wife. When he spoke, his voice was strained with emotion,

"I have dread in my heart. It has been growing for many days. I fear that we will be alone in this fight. They will not come. They do not understand the force of the darkness and evil that we must keep at bay. We fight their wars for them, while they stay in their valley and feast."

"You are jealous."

Thranduil pulled away from his wife and buried his head in his hands, "I know not what I feel. But jealousy, yes it could be. All I want to for you to be happy. For Kélion to live a life free of fear. The Noldor have this, why don't we?"

"We will meleth nín. Trust me. Help will come and the evil will flee this land forever."

Thranduil looked over at his army. The doubt still gnawed at him, but he pushed it away. He would trust that Elrond would come. That victory would be theirs. Looking over at Tamír, the elven king raised his sword and the Greenwood army plunged into battle. A battle that would haunt Thranduil for the rest of his life.

"Thranduil, we cannot hold them. The left flank is already down. We will not last much longer, there are too many of them," Tamír's panicked eyes told the elven king everything, "Where is Elrond? Where is the Noldor army?"

The Sinda swiped his sword through the neck of a nearby orch before looking at his friend,

"They are not coming. They have abandoned us. Call your company back. We will not win this fight. Fall back."

What was left of Thranduil's army regrouped around their king and retreated though the woods. But the yrch followed close behind taking down one elf at a time. It was then that Thranduil knew this would be the end of his kingdom. Elrond had condemned them to death. The destruction of the Greenwood had begun.

Elvish Translations:

ion – son

daro - halt

meleth nín – my love

yrch – orcs

iesten – please

le hannon – thank you

le melithon anuir – i will love you forever

hîr nín – my lord

mellon nín – my friend

adar - father

orch - orc