The halls of Erebor emptied as the men returned to Dale and the elves streamed to their tents.

"We ought to return home," Ciran said to Thranduil at the entrance to the King's tent.

Thranduil paused with his hand on the flap. "Yes. We depart at dawn . . . Galion, announce the news to the elves."

Galion bowed and strode to answer the call of duty while Thranduil retired to his tent, drowsy from an abundance of food and drink. Galion and Ciran had seen Mirkwood go up in flames. He had yet to see it but imagining the ashes tugged at his heart.

"It will be good to see nana and Mykar," Legolas said, but his voice sounded hollow.

Thranduil put an arm around his son's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. "It will be alright, little leaf. We will see Mirkwood reborn."

"I never dreamed I would live to see it destroyed," Legolas said softly. "In all my years, I have dreamed hundreds of dreams but never of the forest gone."

"It is not gone, little leaf, because it still exists here." Thranduil pressed his hand to Legolas's chest. "Eons ago Mirkwood was not the great forest we knew. This is the cycle of life. In order to grow, it needs space."

"I do not quite like some of the aspects of the cycle," Legolas murmured.

"You have already completed more then one cycle of your life. Eigil tore you apart in the same manner Smaug destroyed Mirkwood. Though it will take the forest a sight longer then it took you to heal, it will heal because we will be there to help it."

"Like you helped me," Legolas said. He smiled.

"Meanwhile, we will all be living like rats in Ellhamier's caverns," Brenen said cheerfully. He drew Legolas away to join Realn at the table, and Thranduil slipped quietly away.

"Tauriel is staying in Erebor," Realn said. "She said she might come to Mirkwood for a brief visit after her marriage."

Brenen grinned as he made himself comfortable in Thranduil's seat. "I see you lost no time with her at the coronation. Her parents will explode. No wonder she is hiding until the ring is safely on her finger."

Legolas eyed him. "And when do you plan marriage?"

Brenen chuckled. "What do you mean, dear little leaf? Mykar is crown prince; he can provide the heirs."

Legolas frowned. "It is not a question of heirs, you dolt. It is a question of a woman."

"No," said Brenen. "I am already married. To a warrior's heart. What could be better?"

Noting Brenen was well on his way into his third cup of wine, Legolas and Realn left him to sing praises to himself.

It was at sunrise, well-sobered by a quiet night, the elves departed for home. Having been bidden a hearty farewell by dwarves and men, Thranduil looked back only when they were specks on the horizon. They followed the river from the lake homeward, noting the water ran black with ashes and the air smelt of coals. As the first blackened stumps came into view, the elves halted, and grief thickened the air.

The trees were burned, trunks split from their stumps. The once-flowering undergrowth and downy grass were gone, replaced by hard, bare earth, baked in the heat of the fire. Bird called mournfully from twisted limbs and the wind sifted ashes.

Tears pricked Thranduil's eyes. Where once a great wall of green had risen to the sky and blocked his view, he now saw for miles the black strip of invisible trees. He cleared his throat, hearing the echo behind him as elves wiped their eyes and surveyed the mess with a gaping hole growing between their hearts.

The King turned to face his people. "I know you are all eager to see your families and I will not keep you waiting. Ellhamier—"

He turned as he heard a squeal. From the mouth of a stair leading below ground, Cinwe emerged, holding her blue skirts above her ankles. She dropped them and ran to him, arms outstretched. "Thranduil!"

He caught her and held her close, whispering, "I missed you."

Cinwe planted a kiss, tasting of hickory, on his lips before she took his hand and faced the forest. "Mykar has been remarkably brave but he is hurting inside. He fears he failed you."

"I will speak to him," Thranduil promised, kissing her pink cheeks.

"Ada?"

Mykar was next off the stair, his eyes tired and his voice hollow as a reed. He walked to stand before Thranduil. Cinwe slipped her hand free as she spied Brenen, Realn, and Legolas, and left Thranduil staring at his son.

Mykar dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "I am sorry, ada, I failed you, and I do not deserve your forgiveness. I accept the full force of your anger and accept any punishment—" he choked on a sob and leaned his forehead against Thranduil's legs. "I am sorry."

Thranduil knelt down and guided Mykar into a tight hug. The Prince who had ruled in his father's stead without a tear clung to him and wept, his face pressed into Thranduil's shoulder.

"You do not need to be sorry, Mykar. You have not failed me; you behaved only as a King could. In your place, I would have done no better. You saved our people, Mykar."

"I could not save the forest," Mykar sobbed. "I-I tried so hard."

"The forest will grow back, ion nin," Thranduil whispered. "You made a wise decision when you chose to save our people and forsake the forest."

Mykar sniffled. "It—it was not an easy choice to make."

"But you made it, and you made it well. You were strong and you have made me so, so proud of the person you are growing to be."

Mykar sat back and wiped his eyes. "I am not as great as all that if I am sitting here crying."

"Crying is another form of strength," Thranduil said, and he gave his son a hand to his feet.

Behind him, Ciran waved and as his son emerged off the stairs and jogged to him, followed by a flood of elves; men, women, and children seeking their wives, husbands, and parents in the returned ranks of the army.

"I see you have not conquered the countryside," Ciran said, hugging Jaiz.

His son pushed a strand of black hair back. "I was kept frightfully busy attending to the new underground realm. Ellhamier will have to make expansions to accommodate the returned forces."

Ciran squeezed his hand. "He will be thrilled." He turned to look at the reunited elves clustered behind him; no one was without an embrace, even those who had lost family and friends.

Thranduil's voice suddenly commanded attention. "We have suffered a great loss, my people, but though the forest is gone, we will live on. We will see the first little shoots arise from the soil, we will see the saplings grow for our children and turn to trees for our grandchildren. This is not Greenwood the Great, as it was in my father's time, or Mirkwood as it was in my time. This is Eryn Lasgalen, as it will be for Mykar's time, for he will be the one to lead you into a new age."

And he placed the circlet of starlit jewels on Mykar's head.

"But right now, we are content with the age of King Thranduil," Ellhamier said, winking. "After all, his exploits and the tale of his four wretched mirrored sons is something to speak of. Have you not heard? They are not really quadruplets but two pairs of identical twins!"

"There is some dispute as to the actual pairing of the twins," Brenen added. "It is thought my twin is probably Mykar buy I cannot think how I ended up with him."

Amidst the laugher of the elves, Thranduil led the elves of Eryn Lasgalen into their dwellings beneath the ground, and into an age of friendship. And so, the elves lived, more connected to their dwarven counterparts than ever, as the first little green twigs poked out of the ground above them for, as Thranduil said, "A century is but a mere blink in the life of an elf."


So, I am pretty happy with the way Dragonfire ended! What about you?

Thank you all for reading; it has been a pleasure to write for and to you, and your insightful comments and enjoyment have all helped move the story along! Even though I am bummed this tale is over, I am excited to begin writing and sharing my next book with you. Nin Chronicles: My Prince (working title) will encompass the vast expanse of Thranduil's youth! Excerpt/sneak peek coming soon!