Chapter 1

Birth and Death

When Thranduil heard the door open, he wearily raised his head from the map he was studying, but he laughed softly when he realized that the intruder was Laurëlassë.  No matter how out-of-sorts he was, he never failed to feel pleasure at the arrival of his Queen.  As King, he had been guided by his advisors, particularly his Seneschal Gilglîr, when it came time to take a wife, but his alliance with this Noldo woman from afar must have had the blessing of the Valar, so much joy had it brought him.  "And now," he thought with satisfaction, "I am soon to be a father as well as a husband.  Nothing could mar my happiness." 

 "This day you have not paused to eat, Thranduil.  I have brought you something to sup on."

"Im gwennin le, Laurëlassë."

"You are quite welcome, Thranduil."  The Queen settled herself on some cushions near the window.  As Thranduil ate, his eyes kept straying to her rounded belly.  He still felt wonder at the thought of the child who rested there.  Laurëlassë caught his glance and smiled.

"We should choose a name for this child," murmured Laurëlassë.

            "Yes," said Thranduil, putting on a serious expression.  "Indeed, I have given the matter much thought.  I believe that the name Amlugthul would be suitable."

            "Dragon-breath!"

            "Is that not a powerful name, my Lady?"

            "Thranduil!"

            "No?  Then what of the name Corchlîr?"

            "Crow-song?  I think not, Thranduil."

            "Ah, I have it.  Ungolhen.  Surely our child shall have excellent vision."

            "Our child will not be named Spider-eye!"

            "Hmm, would Ryncarag meet with your approval?

            "Hound-tooth is not as bad as Spider-eye," conceded Laurëlassë, "but perhaps your next suggestion will be better."

            "You are very hard to please," said Thranduil with mock severity.  "I have suggested all these lovely names, and not one has found favor.  I am almost out of ideas.  Let me think."

            Thranduil wrinkled his brow as he pretended to ponder.  "Ai," he sighed. "The only other name I can think of is Laiqualassë.  If that does not meet with your approval, then I am afraid our child shall have to go nameless!"

            "Laiqualassë?"

            "Yes, my Laurëlassë.  You are my beloved Goldenleaf; this child of ours shall be my equally beloved Greenleaf.  Would that satisfy you, Laurëlassë Gûr-norn!?"

"But such a formal name for a little one," said Laurëlassë the Hard-hearted, pretending to be critical.

"I can answer that objection.  For everyday use we may call the child Legolas.  But in the High-Elven he shall be known as Laiqualassë."

Laurëlassë feigned reluctant acquiescence.  "As you wish, my Lord.  I suppose there are worse names than Laiqualassë."

"Such as Amlugthul?" teased Thranduil.

"A Elbereth, Dragon-breath!  What a silly notion, Thranduil!"

At that moment the Seneschal entered the room, having just returned from an inspection of the kingdom's defenses.

"Mae govannen, Gilglîr.  You arrive at a most fortunate moment.  The Queen and I have just settled upon a name for the child."

"I am glad to hear that, my Lord."

"Yes.  In Quenya the child shall be known as Laiqualassë; in Sindarin, Legolas."

"Greenleaf?"  Gilglîr smiled knowingly.  Of course Thranduil would pattern the child's name upon that of his beloved Laurëlassë.

"No doubt the name shall prove to be a fitting one, my Lord and Lady."

"See," said Thranduil triumphantly.  "Gilglîr approves, and I trust his judgment in all matters."

Laurëlassë laughed as she arose.  "I will leave you two to discuss the recent incursion of spiders from the south of Greenwood.  Gilglîr, you may be thankful that I did not give way when Thranduil suggested the name Ungolhen."

Gilglîr grimaced.  "Indeed, my Lady!  There are quite enough spider eyes in the realm as it is!"

Two months had passed since Thranduil and Laurëlassë had chosen a name for their child, and the court healer was visiting the Queen to check on the progress of her pregnancy.

"All seems well, my Lady.  I would estimate another month."

Laurëlassë sighed.  "Short as that may seem, I wonder how I shall endure it!  No, do not be alarmed!  I feel little discomfort, but Thranduil becomes more and more anxious with the passage of each day.  Tell me, Healer, is it absolutely necessary for me to avoid all exertion?  Thranduil seems to believe that I will hurt myself merely by walking within my chambers."

"Would that all husbands were so solicitous!" smiled the healer.  "But, no, it is not necessary for you to forgo all exercise.  Indeed, it would be best if you remained reasonably active, and I will tell the King so."

"Ah, thank you, Healer.  For I long to wander about.  From my window I can see patches of elanor and eirien in bloom, and this very day I desire to go out and pick some to decorate my room."

"The gathering of flowers would be an eminently suitable occupation.  I shall speak to the King at once."

Shortly thereafter the Queen, accompanied by one maidservant, sallied forth from the Hall to meander in the warm sun that filled a nearby clearing.  Occasionally stooping with great care to pluck blossoms, she had passed nearly the entire afternoon outside by the time she had come close to filling her basket.   The Queen was getting ready to pick one last bunch of elanor when she noticed the nínim and mallos growing just within the shadow of the forest.

"My Lady, the sun begins to set.  We should return to the Hall."

"Yes, but first I will gather some of the flowers that grow over there in the shade.  They are such delicate beauties."

Enjoying the last rays of the waning sun, Laurëlassë strolled slowly toward the edge of the forest.  Her maidservant, who did not share her enthusiasm for flowers, loitered behind.

Upon reaching the trees, Laurëlassë put down the basket and gently lowered herself onto a mossy patch.  She had been confined within for so long that she was not eager to go back to the Hall.  The sky began to turn golden and red as the sun sank below the horizon.  The Queen sighed, knowing that she could delay no longer.

It was then that Laurëlassë heard the hissing and the snapping.

Thranduil was trying to complete a letter to Lord Celeborn of Lothlórien in which he was detailing the alarming increase in the number of spiders over the past few months.  He was at a loss to understand what was causing the creatures to multiply.  Every day his warriors eradicated nests.  Yet for all the efforts of his warriors, the scouts continued to locate additional nests.  Moreover, the creatures' lairs were being found increasingly further north, closer to the settlements near the Hall.  Thranduil shuddered to think what might happen if the spiders ever drew within striking distance of the Hall itself.

Thranduil put down his pen in irritation.  How was he to concentrate on this letter when there was such a hubbub outside!?  Angrily, he shoved his chair back and strode to the window.  Elves were hastening toward the Hall, shouting as they ran.   One of them carried a bundle—no, not a bundle but a person who rested limply in the Elf's arms, head lolling, arms and legs dangling.   Laurëlassë!

Thranduil met the Elves at the door of his wife's room.  "Has someone sent for the healer!?"

"Yes, my Lord.  He was summoned straightaway."

The Elves laid the Queen upon her bed.  She was conscious, but barely so.

"What befell the Queen!?"

"She was resting by the forest.  As the sun set, spiders swarmed down from the trees!"

The healer pushed through the throng that had gathered outside the door.

"Is it true that the Queen has been attacked by spiders!?"

"Yes.  Healer, you must help her!"

The Queen moaned and writhed.  She opened her eyes.  Although dazed, she seemed to be somewhat aware of what was happening about her.  Quickly the healer examined her.

"My Lord, she has been bitten several times.  Most grown elves, although they would be sickened by the venom, would be able to fight it off with time.  The Queen, however, has been sent into labor by the shock of the attack.  That may be fortunate for the child, if it be born before the venom can reach it through the mother's blood.  For the Queen, however, this is not so fortunate.  I am not sure she will be able to survive labor whilst weakened by spider venom."

"Can you not give her something to quiet her labor."

"Yes, therein lies hope—at least for the Queen.  I can administer a potion that may cause her labor to cease.  The infant, however…."

"You will save the Queen.  Administer the potion."

"NO!"

 Dazed as she was, Laurëlassë pushed herself up on one of her elbows.

"Healer, you will help me deliver this child before the poison can scathe it."

"But my Lady…."

"I will swallow no potion that will bring harm to my child!"

"Laurëlassë…."

"I will swallow no potion, nothing!"

Thranduil continued to plead with Laurëlassë, but she was unyielding.  At last the healer sighed and said, "I fear too much time has now passed for the potion to be of any use.  This birth must now take place; there is no turning back."

In the end it was as the healer feared.  The infant was delivered, but the mother survived only long enough to murmur a farewell to the child.

"Laiqualassë," she said softly, "you will be your Ada's beloved little Greenleaf."

Devastated, Thranduil stood by the marriage bed.  His son had been conceived and born in it, but his wife had died in it.  And each year, the day that marked his son's birth would likewise be the anniversary of his wife's death.  He did not think he could bear this; immortality had suddenly become an insupportable burden, holding nothing but a sorrow that he would carry all the endless days of his life.

The healer fumbled for a way to comfort him.  "My Lord, you must be grateful that your son was not lost to the spiders as well."

"Must I?  I do not see that I must be grateful for that.  Had she survived, my wife might have given me many sons.  I do not see why this one had to survive, the price being so high."

"My Lord…."

"Be silent!  I do not wish to speak of this matter ever again!"

Gilglîr quietly slipped into the room, accompanied by the woman who would serve as the infant's nursemaid.

"My Lord, I hope you will find this woman suitable as caregiver for your son."

"It matters not.  Choose whom you will."

The woman addressed him then.  "My Lord, what is the name of this child?"

Thranduil ignored her.  Softly, Gilglîr said to her, "Laiqualassë in Quenya; Legolas in Sindarin."

The nursemaid again tried to address the King.  "My Lord, may I call him Laiqua, as the other names are mouthfuls for a little one?"

"Woman, do not speak to me of him!  I do not wish to hear his name uttered.  Call him what you will!"

Thranduil stalked out of the chamber of birth and death.  Five years would pass before he would see his son again.