Chapter 5: The Cry of the Queen
Disclaimer: I claim none of Tolkien's creations.
Author's Note: Read the warnings. This, I regret to inform you, is the last chapter.
Note to chapter 4: I have received some e-mail asking why an elf had to commit suicide if an elf could merely give up his life. My answer to them and all of you is: To my understanding, Elves were only allowed to give up life because their body was too broken to contain their spirit any longer, grief weighed too heavily on them, or life in Middle-Earth had become like watching a movie over and over again- boring. I chose a combination of grief and a broken body to suit Leithian. I chose a violent suicide because Leithian was meant to be going mad in her grief and probably would not have thought of the less violent ways to end her life. In other words, she was going crazy.
Warnings: War violence and death.
Chapter 5: The Cry of the Queen
***
Sigil made his way to the great hall of the palace where many were gathered. They were listening to the tales the warriors had to tell and to the news that the King brought. He did not see Leithian's face among those gathered. A woman came up to him and bowed then she told him what had befallen the Princess. For a moment he stood composed, then he let the tears fall from his eyes. He would have to tell the Queen.
***
The queen rose silently. Her madness had passed. Now, though, she was afraid. The palace was besieged and all the people of Mirkwood were trapped within it. Her mind was clear. She pushed back her grief and stood with the dignity of a true queen. She combed her hair and straightened her gown. She moved through the mess of her room as though it did not exist. Her dark eyes and her dark hair matched the shadows in the corners. Her gown showed only the smallest signs that it had ever been wrinkled. Her eyes had dried and her face was no longer pale. She was again the calm and beautiful Queen of the Woodland Realm.
Aduial had seen much in her life. She had come from a small southern village into Oropher's palace as a handmaid to the Queen. She left behind her family to take the opportunity to serve under King Oropher. She had never again seen or heard from her kin. She had come into the Queen's service with only knowledge of how to survive orc raids and how to weave warm cloaks and blankets. The King and Queen educated her. She became literate in three languages. They gave her fine clothes and jewelry. They treated her as though she was their own child. Their last gift to her was indeed their only child, Thranduil. She fell in love with him and his majesty. She feared for him when he went to battle at the end of the Second Age alongside his father and she cried for him when he returned a sorrowful king with a third of the warriors Mirkwood had given to him.
All her life she had known sorrow and fear. There had been brief times of peace and briefer times of true joy. She was beloved by her people for many reasons, not the least being her calmness in the face of despair. When Dol Guldur rose again in horrible power and spiders again disrupted feasts, she had been the composed face of hope for all the people of the Woodland Realm. She had made it a priority never to let her people see her frightened. She made it a priority to teach her children the same. She taught them to fear, but never to let their fear show. She taught them that they were fools if they were fearless. She taught them to fear power and fear darkness and fear fear. And now, Tirn, Taurost, and Legolas were gone. Tirn, the laughing watcher, had been stabbed in the back. Taurost, the strong fortress, had been shot in the back. Legolas, her little tree-lover, had never returned from a journey to Rivendell. All of them had been lost to her by that which they most feared. Tirn and Taurost had feared someone sneaking up from behind since they were small children. Legolas had always feared losing his way, though Aduial had told him many times that this fear was irrational. She had nearly gone insane in her crushing grief. But at the last moment, she remembered her people. They needed their queen. She was their queen.
She left her room and made her way to the great hall of the palace. Those she passed bowed to her. Others turned away. Still others sent her the pitying gaze she disliked so much. She continued past them all, wishing to see her husband, her daughter, and her one remaining son. She too wished to see the face of Sigil, Leithian's husband. And as she approached the great hall she saw him. Tears were streaming down his face. He knelt before Aduial when she came up to him. Aduial said, "Sigil, my son, what has happened that has so grieved you?" Sigil raised his head to look at her and replied, "My Queen, my mother, Leithian is gone." Aduial did not need to ask what he meant, she knew. Her daughter too had been taken from her. She did not weep, she did not even bow her head in sorrow. She retained her dignity. Thranduil came toward her slowly. Sadness was etched in his face and it pained her to see it. But she did not falter. She knew that others were in the hall and watching them. She knew that they had their own grievances this day. She would not burden them with her own. Instead she did the unexpected. She called out to all the people gathered there in the hall. She said to them, "I shall not let this realm be destroyed. I shall not let the memory of my children and of your children be destroyed. I shall not let more harm be done to my people than has already been done. With these thoughts alone, I will take up my son's bow and my son's sword and fight." She was not finished, but she had no chance to complete her statements. The people of the Woodland Realm rallied to their Queen and took up her thoughts and added their own. They would not let their memories, their families, and their homes be destroyed in flames set by filthy creatures.
***
He was not healed and he should have been asleep. But how could he sleep when he heard the warriors rushing about to gather weapons? How could he rest while others hurried to form their ranks to go to battle? And how could he hope to drift away from the world as worried thoughts plagued him? He listened to the comings and goings of the people in the corridors. In his heart he knew that this was the final battle. Whether they were destroyed or whether they survived would be determined this day. His heart ached to be with them. He felt useless lying burnt. A thought struck him. He was not so hurt that he was lying on his deathbed. He rose. Pain surged through him and his body burnt. For a moment he doubted what he was doing, but for only a moment. His mind was set. He pulled on his tunic, biting his lip against the pain and burning and ignoring the blood that flowed where his charred skin had torn. He looked at the warrior next to him; he was quite asleep. He did not know the man. He felt the slightest pang of regret as he took the man's sword. He girt it on himself and straightened up. Pain racked his body, but he stood proud. He left the room, ignoring the shouts of a healer.
He joined the soldiers regrouping. Someone ushered him over to a group of warriors under the command of the King. He took his place in the ranks without looking at the people on either side of him. He knew they were watching him. He knew he should have been resting. He knew that he was foolish to be there, but he could not turn back. He felt that he had to fight. It was no longer a war between the forces of good and evil or the Elves and Dol Guldur. It was a war between him and whoever wanted to kill him. It was a war between the trees and ground that held them. It was a war between dark storm clouds and white fair weather clouds. As he stood ready to move alongside the best warriors of the Woodland Realm, all the pain he felt and all the thoughts that troubled him were second to his will. He wanted to avenge his father and sister. He wanted to protect his mother. He wanted his home to be safe from orcs forever. The thing he wanted most, though, was to live.
***
The Queen came to the warriors as they were to set out and face their adversaries again. She had sword and bow ready. Both weapons were Taurost's. She wore a scarlet gown and her hair was pulled back from her face in the manner of the women of the southern villages. Thranduil regarded her silently and she him. She joined the ranks of warriors preparing themselves for battle. Not one word was spoken against her joining.
The King gave the command to leave the safety of the palace and fight the creatures of darkness.
***
He knew he was too weak to fight properly, but he did what he could. Another warrior was by his side constantly as if they were one person. He realized that he was only alive because the other was fighting to protect him. The realization embarrassed him and he was quick to use all his strength to fight off an orc alone. But that act weakened him and the other had to defend him while he regained his strength. He now understood just how much of a fool he truly was. A fellow warrior was in danger because of him. He was in danger himself because of his weakened state. As his breath and strength returned, he no longer even felt the pain of the burns anymore--it was simply part of him.
The sky was dark. Long shadows protected their enemies. The fight went on forever, with more orcs always coming and more spiders after them. Flames licked the trees and the houses and the palace. The sun never rose and clouds rolled across the sky. Rain poured from the clouds and struck the faces of the fighters. Time passed, but did not move at all. He fought until he was spent and then he roused himself and fought again. He did not know what day it was or how long he had labored in the rain against Dol Guldur. He did not know where he was in the forest anymore. He had long since lost sight of the king. Some said that Thranduil was dead. Others said that he had gone south, far south, to meet the forces of Lothlorien. He almost laughed. Why would Lorien send help to the north? What could Lorien do to help them? Lothlorien did not have the strength of warriors that Mirkwood needed. The Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of Dale had been more help in the east than Lorien in the south. He neglected to think of the strength that was within Lothlorien that could not be counted by heads.
It seemed as though days had gone by, for indeed they had, when light in the darkness shone. Something strange happened to the remaining warriors and something stranger happened to the remaining orcs. For all the long lulls there had been in battle and all the fearful orcs the warriors had encountered, nothing so strange as this had occurred. Far in the south a light blazed in the sky. Strength again pulsed in the veins of the fighters and they no longer despaired. The Shadow left their hearts. The orcs were suddenly filled with fear at the sight of their strong foes. They fled before them, but were pursued and destroyed. A great wind rushed through the trees and whipped at the warriors. It pushed the darkness before it and when it passed, the forest was again clean.
Some stood without any movement and looked to the sky. Others shouted and cried joyfully. In the palace, the weavers and the potters, the wounded and the lame, the horses and the dogs, came out to see what was happening. In the forest near the palace, the Queen stood as one frozen. She forgot her dignity and let a slow smile spread across her face. Fear was lifted from her. She felt the spirits of her deceased children at ease and knew at last that Legolas had not been lost and that he was alive and would return. She laughed aloud and it was joyful laughter, not the laughter of her earlier madness. All would be well.
But there were some who would not see the great joy the fall of Sauron and the destruction of Dol Guldur would bring. He stood leaning on his sword under the trees. All around him was happiness. There would be no more fighting; their homes would be safe. They could rebuild what was destroyed. The burns that he had were flaming and his breath was failing him. He let himself fall to the floor of the forest. The last battles had been too much for his body. He knew what was happening to him. Another saw him fall and came to him, but he could nothing but answer his question. He asked, "How long have we been fighting?" The other answered, "Days, days and nights and weeks." He asked, "What day is it today?" The other answered sadly, "The New Year." But he was not sad; he was peaceful. His home was safe from the evil that had plagued it. He knew his mother was safe. He knew the King lived. He knew the realm was no longer in danger. He died on the floor of the forest and his spirit escaped the flaming body.
***
"…Celeborn came forth and led the host of Lorien over Anduin in many boats. They took Dol Guldur, and Galadriel threw down its walls and laid bare its pits, and the forest was cleansed. In the North also there had been war and evil. The realm of Thranduil was invaded, and there had been long battle under the trees and great ruin of fire; but in the end Thranduil had the victory. And on the New Year of the Elves, Celeborn and Thranduil met in the midst of the forest; and they renamed Mirkwood Eryn Lasgalen, the Wood of Greenleaves."
--Appendix B, the Tale of Years, the Great Years