*disclaimer* i own nothing *glares at tolkien* he does :(
TA 87, Eryn Lasgalen
"They're beautiful," her voice was light, like the chime of a bell.
King Thranduil looked up from his desk and over to his wife. His queen, Ladrengilel, looked out the large window that allows light into the dim area of Thranduil's study. His eyes drifted from her fair face, framed with dark hair, to the hand that rested on her swollen belly.
"Who's beautiful?"
Sending a grin to her husband, her blue eyes were filled with glee, "The trees. They're just positively lovely."
With a soft laugh, the King of Greenwood abandoned the paperwork on his desk and walked up behind his wife. He wrapped his arms around the lovely elleth that carried their child and pressed his face into her neck.
He followed her gaze and stared out at the trees. Winter had delivered a harsh, yet beautiful, blow to Greenwood this year. Ice had mercilessly covered the land, it was hard upon the inhabitants of the elven realm, but by the kindness of the Valar, they had a plentiful harvest the spring before and were more than prepared for the harsh cold.
They appreciated the beauty of the icy land when the snow began to fall that winter. They did not mind the cold so much, you see, elves are not much affected by the cold. Although the bulk of winter had long since passed, the trees reflected the same beauty, holding shadows of when they were held captive by the ice.
The sharp eyes of Thranduil saw that the last remnants of winter were beginning to melt away. Spring would soon be upon them. Ladrengilel tensed in his arms, and Thranduil pulled away. Concern creased his brow as he asked, "What is it?"
"Our little prince is restless."
Thranduil smiled, "And how are you so sure it's a prince? It may very well be a princess."
The queen simply rolled her eyes and grabbed her husband's arm, bringing him to stand in front of her. He was significantly taller than his bonded, and he looked down upon her, his eyes brimming with love and amusement.
"Let me have your hand."
Thranduil offered his hand to her, and she pressed it against her belly where the baby had been kicking not forty seconds earlier.
"Do you feel that?" The queen asked, "Our princeling will be strong, oh but how I hope for him to not need that strength."
Thranduil's heart warmed as he felt a strong thump against his hand. The thump came again, stronger this time, and Thranduil smiled, a quick flash of perfect white teeth that would have most ellith swooning.
"You are right once again, my star."
Although her voice was sharp, her smile was soft and delighted at the endearment her husband had used for her, "Maybe one day, you'll finally start listening to me."
Laughing, Thranduil knelt down and pressed both of his hands to the bump.
"What do you think, my little prince, will I ever listen to your naneth?"
The baby kicked twice, two thumps against the king's hands. The queen smiled before wincing in pain.
"Are you okay? Did the kicks hurt you?" Thranduil's concern was thrust into the queen's face as he gripped her elbows.
"No, it's- I don't know. I-" Her knees buckled underneath her, but Thranduil swept his arms under her and began to run for the healing rooms.
Glancing up at her husband through blurry eyes as the pain rolled over her, the queen managed a breathy whisper, "The baby, it's coming."
Thranduil called for Eithahir, the head healer, and the dark-haired ellon rushed in. Understanding dawned in his eyes and he began to call out orders to the other healers that were milling about.
"My King, I'm going to have to ask you to step aside."
Thranduil nodded, not moving far, his wife still in his sight as healers began to talk her through what was happening.
"You're in labour, my lady. I can see the head, I'll need you to start pushing."
With a scream, the queen complied, squeezing the hand of a female healer next to her. After what seemed like long, excruciating hours, the queen relaxed with a slump as the healer took the baby.
Silence fell over the room, and that's when Thranduil's gut twisted in wrongness. Where were the cries of his newborn child? He watched as Eithahir began to frantically cut at the umbilical cord that was wrapped around his child's neck. The queen turned her head, a gasp spilling out of her lips as tears filled her eyes.
"W-what's wrong? Why ha-hasn't he cried out-t?" Ladrengilel stuttered out in her exhaustion.
Thranduil stood in front of her, blocking the view she had of their child, their little prince. Eithahir spoke quietly and the group of healers fluttering around the prince followed orders quickly. Eithahir took three with him, as they carried the elfling into the next room over. Two came over to the king, who spoke quickly with great concern to the two ellith.
Their conversation was carried out with a quiet urgency, and Queen Ladrengilel was far too worn out to discern what was being said. Her concern for her baby overwhelmed everything else, and she was reduced to tears as the room remained vacant of the cries of a newborn.
"What's happening?"
The healers' responses were quiet but sure as they responded to their King, "My King, it seems that along with the lack of air due to the umbilical cord around the child's neck, a lung has filled with liquid and collapsed."
"What can be done?'
"Eithahir is doing everything he can, we hope it will be enough, but since he was not due for a number of weeks more, we're not sure he'll live to see the morrow."
Thranduil's fists clenched as he gritted his teeth against the wave of white-hot agony that washed over him. How could he deal with the grief of losing his son, his little prince? How could something so small and frail already hold his heart in a tight, unrelenting grip? He turned to look at his wife. She lay in the bed, sweat covering her forehead and chest, and her dark ocean eyes were glazed over with tears. Her lovely dark hair framed her face and fanned over the pillow she was propped against. He walked to her side and wrapped his hands around her smaller one.
Healer assistants fluttered around the royal couple, checking on the queen's vitals as incoherent words tumbled messily from her mouth. Thranduil smoothed back her hair with shaky hands, placing a delicate kiss on her forehead, as he fought back the tears in his eyes. A chair was rushed over to him, the quiet voice of an assistant asking him to sit down.
Whether he liked it or not, Thranduil couldn't have stood any longer, the shaking in his hands had gone to his knees, and he collapsed into the chair. One of his hands stayed firmly in his wife's while he used the other to lay his forehead against, the elbow on his bobbing knee. Strands of delicately braided hair fell into the King's glistening ice blue eyes. The King's crown lay crooked on his brow as he pushed the blonde hair away from his brow.
Food was offered to the Queen and King, but both gently pushed the plates away. The sick feeling in their stomach-settling deeper and ridding them of their appetite with a swift, devastating blow. They sat there, hands intertwined while their hearts were weighed down as sorrow and tension drifted heavily through the air.
The only sound that filled the room was the quiet, almost silent sobs of the queen. Thranduil looked down, tears of his own filling his eyes. Smoothing back Ladrengilel's dark hair, the Elvenking of Mirkwood began to sing. His voice wavered though it still held a hauntingly beautiful tone. The melody was simple, no words adorning the notes, the simplicity allowing the raw emotion to bleed through.
As if called to carry the forlorn tune, a breeze came rushing through the open window. It brought with it not the biting chill of Winter, but the promise of warmth that Spring brings. He sang well into the night, as dusk came sweeping over the land, darkness falling as the moon sailed the ocean that was the star-filled sky. Ladrengilel fought the pull of sleep that the moon promised, but her eyes went glassy, the sound of her husband's voice lulling her into the world of dreams.
It was then and only then, in the dark with the only witness being his sleeping wife, that Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion let himself cry.
He wept silently, hot tears running down his cheeks, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath, struggling to inhale the air that had been denied to his child. The fear that had been hovering over him squeezed his heart in an icy grip that threatened not only the loss of his soul but of his mind.
He could hear the healers in the room over, their hushed voices and hurried steps. Feeling his heart squeeze at the thought, he couldn't help but imagine it, his helpless newborn son having the liquid drained from his lung. He could smell the herbs they were mixing to assist in the repairing of the lung, the scent was bitter and pungently filled the air.
A soft knock came from the doorway. A weary Eithahir stood there, using a cloth to wipe the lingering herbs off his hands as he leaned against the oak door. Thranduil wiped his eyes before turning to face the healer, rising gracefully from his chair. Ladrengilel's hand slipped from his, and his wife faintly stirred in her sleep.
Eithahir could see the distress troubling his king, the tear tracks still fresh on his face and the fear that was distilled in bloodshot eyes. He noticed the shaking hands and dishevelled appearance, the question that was clear in the King's eyes.
Is he okay?
"The Valar have blessed you with a boy," the healer's voice was calm and soothing, "The early birth was hard on the child, but the liquid which caused the lung to collapse has been drained. The elfling is a fighter, hir nin, the recovery is expected to be quick and relatively painless for the penneth."
The tension that had curled around him like a snake, squeezing until he was left breathless, released suddenly. The tight coils unraveled and Thranduil let out a sigh of utter relief. The breeze had not ceased and continued to flow freely through the open window. Dawn crept up from the horizon, colours of warmth seeping into the black of night.
"Morning will soon be upon us, I would like to check his vitals one last time before I allow visitors. Wake your wife, mellon nin, I fear she would have both of our heads if you were to see your ernil pen without her."
Thranduil's laugh was breathy, but he nodded, some of the normal mirth returning to his icy eyes.
Turning to his queen, whose eyes were still glazed with sleep, he knelt down. He pressed a delicate kiss to her brow, his voice a whisper, "Melleth, it is nearly the morrow. Our little prince is healing, and by the grace of the Valar, he will make it."
Ladrengilel's eyes cleared and she blinked sleepily.
"Would you like to meet our son?"
She nodded, taking the hand offered to her. Her legs were shaky, her hair was a mess and her dress was rumpled and wrinkled, but it took everything in her plus the grip her husband had on her elbow to keep her from sprinting into the next room.
Eithahir appeared in the doorway again, bending into a respectful bow, "Your Majesties."
Nodding to the ellon, they stepped into the room.
The window was open, allowing the wind to fill the room. A bundle of cloth rested in a small wooden crib, the head of a newborn poking through the folds of the cream coloured fabric. Small, pointed ears matched a little button nose and rosebud lips. Tufts of white-blonde hair fluttered on top of the sleeping child's head as the breeze picked up.
A tiny fist lay outside the swath of blankets, and it was clutching onto a fresh, very green, leaf.
"How did he get a hold of a leaf?" The Queen's voice held amusement.
"It must have blown in with the breeze," Thranduil muttered, "Spring has finally and truly arrived."
A sleepy cry came from the now open mouth of the prince. All three adult elves turned their attention to the blearily blinking baby. Eyes of pure blue stared at them, the green leaf still clutched in his hands.
"What will you name him?"
"We haven't really discussed it-"
Ladrengilel cut off her husband with a wave of her hand, "Legolas, his name will be Legolas, our own little Greenleaf."
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hi guys
so this is my first story
i've never posted anything before so this is really nerve wracking. um, so yeah.
please give me constructive criticism, but don't be an asshole.
anyways...
i love legolas, and do not fear, this is not another mary sue story. i plan to have him end up with an existing character, but it will be a slow burn. so yeah
ily guys
until next time...