Welcome to "Heart of a King". This is a companion piece to "The Griffon's Tears". If you are unfamiliar with the Legolas/Alede adventures then sadly, this small tale will make no sense what so ever! lol I highly recommend reading first:

1. "The Road to Isengard" 2. "The Caverns of Mirkwood" 3. "The Faerie Goblet" 4. "The Griffon's Tears"

But if you are a returning reader to the Legolas/Alede adventures, then I have a little treat in store for you. Many of you have expressed your appreciation for King Thranduil and the tragic she-Elf, Romiël. I initially intended to add their story to the chapters of "Griffon", but thought that Thranduil would be better pleased with his own separate story. The chapter titles will keep you up to date on where we're at in the real story.

Enjoy and as always, thanks for reading! ~ Nebride :D

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HEART OF A KING

Chapter 1 ~ Coincides with chapter 14 of Griffon

King Thranduil strode to his balcony and looked out over his son's kingdom of Eryn Culhallas. Above him the breathtakingly beautiful Culhalla trees swayed gently with the dawn breeze causing his own dwelling to sway as well.

The King relished the movement. His own kingdom, safe with in the caverns of Mirkwood's mountain, was much too still for his restless Wood Elvin blood. But it had been the stronghold of his family for ages and his pride in it ran deep.

Below, voices drifted up to him, pulling him away from thoughts of Oropher and back into the present. Thranduil ignored the Elves walking upon the many paths of Eryn Culhallas and focused his intense gaze upon the healer who was entering the Great Hall.

The main floor of the fabulous building contained Legolas' throne room and his council chambers. Since it was built upon an incline, these first rooms looked out upon the lush forest floor. But at the very back, the building delved into the hill and the vast kitchens where actually underground. Above them, on the next floor, absorbing the heat from the kitchen, lay the healer's hall. Its windows faced south to better absorb the afternoon's sunlight and the many balconies were nearly at ground level due to the rise in the hill.

On the top floor, were the guest chambers, two of which were occupied by the dratted wizards.

Thranduil's lip curled at the thought of them. He still was furious with Radagast the Brown. The impertinent man had actually cursed him during an argument! And with a beard no less!

Wizards were not to be trusted in any case. Gandalf the Gray had been decent enough, but still mysterious. The Istari seemed to enjoy playing riddle games, something which Thranduil had no patience for. Saruman had been the worst of them and the two times that Thranduil had consulted with the head of the White Council, he had detested him. It was rather gratifying to know that his opinion of the wizard had been correct. Even more gratifying that he was gone.

Thranduil's gaze snapped down to the entrance of the Great Hall. More under-healers had arrived at the Great Hall to relieve the nightshift and what was more important, his nephew Galomir had just arrived.

Thranduil straightened his tunic and trotted easily down the many stairs from his guesthouse to the forest floor.

Alede always arrived before Galomir. That Thranduil had not yet seen her meant that his guess was correct and she was not coming today. Legolas had been itching with mischief the night before at dinner and Thranduil had predicted that his energetic son was ready for a day of play, instead of attending his courtly duties. It was no surprise then that he had dragged Alede off on whatever adventure he had planned.

Thranduil smiled as he strode across the forest floor to the Great Hall. If Alede were not there, then he would be able to see Romiël. The wizardess had been guarding her like a dragon over a treasure and had forbidden him entrance to the she-Elf's rooms. But with only Galomir to guard her . . . Thranduil smiled again.

Bullying his brother's son would be no trouble at all.

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Romiël woke once again to darkness. For a moment, she lay still and hoped against hope that the darkness simply meant that it was still nighttime. But sounds drifted up through the floor, the rattle of pots and pans, the clang of cutlery, telling her that the kitchens were already in use.

Delicious smells wafted in through her partially opened windows, making her stomach growl with anticipation.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes.

Even after four days of being under the healer's care, Romiël was still sleeping with her eyes closed, a sign of ill health and weakness in an Elf. But Alede had assured her that she was beginning to heal and that it would take time.

A lot of time.

*But I have lost seven hundred years!*

Romiël squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that she knew would fall.

*I never used to cry!*

A knock at her door snapped her eyes open again and she called out.

"Come in." Struggling to sit up, Romiël tried to paste a smile on her face to greet Alede with.

But to her surprise, it was Galomir instead.

"Good morning, Romiël. Did you rest well last night?"

"Well enough," Romiël hedged. She looked past Galomir. "Is Lady Alede . . ."

"She will not be here this morning. I received a message from Lord Legolas saying that she would not be available this morning. I will attend you, if that is acceptable?"

"Yes, of course," Romiël said quietly, trying to hide her disappointment. Alede had a calmness about her that Romiël found reassuring. "I hope that Lady Alede is well?"

Galomir smiled as he set his tray of medicines down. "I am certain that she is fine. I know that our Lord is concerned that she is still fatigued from her journey. She had only just arrived from Rivendell when they set out for Mordor. And she and our Lord are newly betrothed as well."

"Indeed?" Romiël asked. "How soon do they wed?"

"Our Lord has not yet announced the day, but we expect them to marry before next summer. Now, let me call in one of the she-Elves to assist you . . ."

This was one of Romiël's favorite times of the day. Normally Alede would help her wash and brush her hair. Then in the evening, she could soak in a tub of hot water, delighting in being clean and easing the ever present aches in her body. But since they had re-set Romiël's leg and arm, she had to settle for a bath with a cloth only. Still, Galomir's assistant made her comfortable with a clean nightdress and a special salve that was rubbed into all of her scars.

"Your bones are healing well," Galomir remarked. He had very gently opened the splint that encircled her arm. The splints were made of a stiff reed, woven into a mat. Small slats of wood reinforced it and leather lacings bound it securely to the broken limb. "I think that in another couple of weeks, it will be healed. Your leg however . . ."

Galomir gently looked at her leg and when Romiël flinched in pain, he carefully wrapped up the splint again. "Your leg will take much longer, I fear. Stay in bed again today. I will have someone bring in your breakfast."

"Make that two breakfasts," said a voice behind Galomir.

The healer jumped and spun around. "Uncle!" Stuttering, he amended himself, "I am sorry, my Lord. I am afraid that Romiël is not yet allowed visitors."

"Indeed," Thranduil strolled across the room like a large predatory cat. "On her night table are books from my son's library, there are flowers which I watched that clumsy oaf of a dwarf gather yesterday. The griffon lounges outside her balcony when the sun warms the forest floor." He turned deliberately toward Galomir with an imperious eyebrow raised. "Are these not visitors?"

Galomir started to open his mouth, but Romiël cut him off.

"It is all right Galomir."

Reluctantly, the healer nodded and left the room. Thranduil sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"You asked not to see me." It was a statement, not a question and Thranduil was surprised when her face revealed that he spoke the truth. "Why?"

Romiël's eyes dropped. "I am not . . . I was not," she amended, "a vain woman. But now . . ." she trailed off uncomfortably, looking down at the scars that threaded over her arms like webs of evil. There were more on her legs and chest. But the worst ones were on her back where they flogged her over and over until there had been no skin left.

Thranduil waited, saying nothing, though there was much he wished to say. He cared nothing for her scars, save as a symbol of what she endured. But he had learned from all his years of dealing with victims of Orcs, that each feeling, no matter how absurd they might seem to him, must be felt.

"I told Alede of my . . . discomfort and she said that she would keep you from seeing me. And," Romiël looked up with her huge gray eyes, "she has given me a salve which she says will diminish the scars over time."

"Is that what that smell is?" Thranduil asked lightly, sitting back in his chair and wrinkling his nose. "I thought there was something rather pungent about you when I first entered the room."

Romiël laughed softly in spite of herself, realizing what Thranduil was doing. Instinctively she knew he did not find her ugly, but could not help the feelings that arose within her.

"Thank you," she said. "Everyone has been so kind to keep my spirits up. In truth, I know not why I am sad. I have every reason to rejoice. All of my remaining clan have been rescued, I am safe and well cared for, but . . ."

"But you do not feel safe and your heart is full of misery," Thranduil finished.

"Yes," she said looking up in wonder.

"It is natural," he replied. "I would take these feelings away from you if I could, but I cannot. You must endure them and with time they will fade."

Oddly, Romiël found his words comforting. But before she could speak, there was a knock at the door and an under-healer came in carrying a tray.

"My Lord," he said nodding to Thranduil. "I will assist Romiël while she eats . . ."

"Nay, you will not," Thranduil said, rising and taking the tray from the startled Elf.

"But. . . but my Lord . . ."

"That will be all," Thranduil said dismissively and Romiël had to hide a grin of amusement at the stunned look on the healer's face. Thranduil ignored him with the supreme arrogance of royalty, knowing that his wishes would be carried out.

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, the Elf left, closing the door behind him. Thranduil took the tray out onto the balcony and returned for Romiël.

"Now, if you will just put your arms about my neck . . ." He lifted her easily, feeling every bone in her emaciated body beneath the thin wrapper of her nightdress. Depositing her gently in one of the chairs, he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and sat beside her.

During breakfast, which he fastidiously helped her with, they talked of small things. Thranduil pointed out trees and flowers native to Ithilien and Romiël rejoiced in watching the small colored birds as they flitted from tree to tree.

Thranduil's voice was soothing, like deep velvet. He demanded nothing of her and asked no awkward questions. For the first time in centuries, she relaxed.

They would have stayed there at the small table for much of the morning, if Romiël's joints had not started to ache. She made a small noise of dismay finally, interrupting Thranduil.

"Are you in pain?" he asked immediately.

"I am sorry," she said in frustration. "Would you mind taking me back to bed?"

He did so immediately, tucking her in gently.

"My body aches so," Romiël explained apologetically. "Alede said that the cold of the dungeons has soaked into my bones. I feel like those crippled old men that one sees in the villages sometimes. The healers say that it will probably not go away," she ended sadly.

Thranduil gazed at her for a moment. A strange feeling was building inside of him because of her words. He felt as if all his rage and all his love could burn away the ache inside of her. Dropping down to sit upon the mattress suddenly, he grasped her arms hard enough that she cried out in pain.

Heat and light radiated from his hands, engulfing Romiël in a golden glow. She cried out again, this time in fright as liquid flames coursed through her veins. Heat seared her, burning its way into her bones, into her very mind.

With a sudden gasp, Thranduil released her, sagging where he sat and breathing hard as if he had just run up a mountain.

Romiël blinked and pulled in a shaky breath. The pain was gone and in its place her body felt as if tiny rainbows were wiggling around inside of her. She flexed her ankle experimentally. The ache in her joints was gone.

Completely gone.

"What did you do?" she asked, smiling up at him in amazement.

But Thranduil did not answer. Instead he stared down at his hands as if he had never seen them before. But another emotion slowly overcame his surprise and Romiël watched as guilt and then intense regret filled his eyes.

With a wordless cry, Thranduil rose from the bed, flinging himself from the room. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Romiël in stunned silence.

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A/N: Hmm, what's troubling Thranduil, I wonder? Could his past be catching up to him? Find out in chapter 2, coming soon. :)

*** Original Character List ***

Romiël - A she-Elf captured 700 years ago by Sauron as her people were making their way to the Gray Havens.

Alede the Green - Witch, healer and wizard. She is daughter of Radagast the Brown and Legolas' betrothed. (But then, you already knew that. ;) lol

Maladok the Red - The fifth Maia sent to Middle Earth. After falling prey to an evil witch, he was changed permanently into a magnificent griffon. He flew Romiël out of Mordor after her release.

Malina - A healer and witch of the Angmar Mountains. She was married to Radagast the Brown and was Alede's mother. She was killed by a mob of religious fanatics who thought her witchcraft had brought plague to a village when instead she had been trying to cure it. Alede was only sixteen when Malina was killed.

Galomir - Ithilien's healer, son of Lomomir and nephew to King Thranduil.

Romion - Romiel's brother and also a captive of Sauron for 700 years.