Elenlor fell back, her blue eyes wide with fright. What was he doing here? Why had he followed her to her special place? Perhaps he had come to apologize for the scene he had made yesterday…
The elf maid forced herself to look into his eyes. She knew at once that this was not his purpose. There was something dark in the depths of the green orbs. It made her heart pound harder than ever. She spun, intending to flee into the darkness of Mirkwood.
With lightning speed, Saurna leapt across the clearing and caught her arm, yanking her back to face him. "Oh no you don't," he growled. His other hand captured her chin roughly as he pressed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss.
Disgust and horror swamped her mind. And then, surprisingly, a wave of hot anger rose through the fear that threatened to paralyze her. What right had he to do this! Balling her free hand into a fist, Elenlor swung upwards, hitting Saurna across the face. The elf broke away from her with a curse. Unfortunately, he did not release her arm.
Elenlor struggled desperately. The moment his mouth left hers she raised her voice, screaming. Saurna tried to catch hold of her free hand, twisting her captured limb painfully as he did so. Blood dripped from his mouth. Elenlor had split his lip against his teeth.
"Shut up!" he hissed venomously as he finally seized her arm. With a strong jerk, he brought her into the crushing confines of his embrace.
Elenlor kicked at him with her small feet, but they did not do much good. She could not get enough room to inflict any real damage and he was too strong. She nearly gagged as he twined his fingers into her hair, jerking her head so he could press his lips against her throat.
Tears of helplessness nearly blinded her. This was not right! She should be able to do something to stop this! Rage engulfed her mind. Her screams turned from terrified to furious. On sudden impulse, she sunk her teeth into his shoulder, biting down as hard as she possibly could.
She had one moment's incredibly sweet satisfaction as she heard him cry out in enraged pain. Then he thrust her away. Before she could flee, his hand shot out faster than the eye could follow, striking her squarely across the face.
The force of the blow sent her spinning to the ground. She landed with a thud, driving the wind out of her lungs. Stars danced in her vision as she gasped for breath. With an effort, she rolled onto her back, trying to rise. Her limbs would not cooperate. Blackness crowded the edges of her sight.
Through her haze, she saw Saurna loom over her. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a whimper. Cold fear clutched at her. She had to move! She had to escape! But her stunned body could not follow the instructions she gave it. She could only watch as he bent towards her…
0-0-0-0
Thranduil knew something was wrong from the moment he stepped outside of the palace walls. He could hear the trees.
They were crying out in anguish, their limbs thrashing.
The Elvenking sprinted into the shadows of Mirkwood, adrenaline pounding through his system. What was happening? Was Elenlor in danger? Fear for her safety put wings on his feet.
A sound muffled by the trees pierced the air. It could not have affected the fair elf more strongly had it been the shriek of a Nazgul. With a harsh cry of his own Thranduil plunged forwards.
He could hear Elenlor screaming.
There! A glimmer of sunlight! His heart leapt into his teeth as Elenlor's voice cut off abruptly. To his amazement, he heard another voice cry out. It was a male's voice, enraged more than afraid.
Thranduil burst into the edge of the clearing just in time to see Saurna's blow send Elenlor to the ground. Shocked to the core of his being, Thranduil froze for a split second.
Saurna's back was to his king. He neither saw, nor heard the arrival of the other elf, so focused was he on the fair elf maid. He bent toward her helpless figure with eager grasping hands.
The sight of the spoilt youth reaching for his love broke the Elvenking out of his momentary paralysis. With a roar, Thranduil leapt forward and caught hold of Saurna's shoulder, spinning him around to meet the fair king's oncoming fist.
The blow sent Saurna reeling. He staggered back a few paces, blood pouring from his nose.
Thranduil did not give him time to recover. Enraged, the elf swiftly stepped towards Saurna, sinking his fist into the other's midriff. Saurna would have doubled over, but Thranduil caught the collar of the young elf's shirt, bringing him up and landing another hit across his jaw.
Saurna jerked away and fell back a pace, trying hard to catch his breath. As the king came after him again, he tried to ward off the blows and even threw a punch of his own.
That was a mistake.
Thranduil dodged and caught Saurna's wrist as it sailed past his head. With a vicious twist, he quickly doubled the spoilt youth's arm behind his back, wrenching it painfully. Saurna was driven to his knees, his face contorted with pain.
The Elvenking wanted to kill him. His eyes glittered with bloodlust and righteous rage. The fair king's free hand was already reaching for the other elf's neck. He would throttle him with his bare hands…
Halfway there, the hand stopped, shaking with the battle of wills that waged within the king of Mirkwood. He wanted to kill him. Saurna deserved to die for what he had just done to Elenlor.
But he was the king. He could not kill him without a trial. According to law, he could not even judge Saurna as he would normally.
The elf had not yet left his mother's household. She was the head, and it would be her judgment that was passed on the fair youth.
Thranduil snarled, his hand practically twitching with his desire to end Saurna's life. Finally, with a growl, he curled his fingers into a fist and brought it down on the back of the elf's neck. Saurna fell to the ground without a sound, unconscious.
"Elenlor?" Thranduil turned, and was alarmed to see that Elenlor had not risen from the place where she had fallen when Saurna struck her. The Elvenking crossed the clearing swiftly and knelt by her side. "Elenlor?" His hands reached for her, his voice gentle.
0-0-0-0
Elenlor fought against the black that crowded her vision. Someone was bending over her…through her haze, she saw sunlight glint off fair hair, handsome features…Saurna! "NO!" She tried to strike him, but her hand only moved weakly. He caught her wrist and held it easily.
"Elenlor!"
That voice. That was not Saurna's voice. Her vision was clearing slowly, and she saw his eyes. They were warm;concern flowing from them. They were not Saurna's eyes. The hand that held her wrist was gentle, not bruising.
With a sob of relief, Elenlor threw her arms around the Elvenking's neck. "Thranduil!"
His strong arms held her tightly as she wept into his shoulder.
0-0-0-0
Thranduil sat on his throne, his face grim. It was not often that he occupied the enormous carved chair, but then, it was not often that he held court to condemn one of his subjects either. The fair king's features might have been carved from stone, they were so immobile.
Nearly the entirety of his court had gathered in his hall. They gazed at their king in wonder, curious as to how he could appear so uncaring of what was to transpire. However, they had only to look into to his eyes to realize how mistaken they were in that opinion.
A fierce, horrible rage, tempered by an icy calm created a glare that could have sent a ringwraith fleeing back to Mordor.
Thranduil's rage was not only for what had already transpired, but also for the law that decreed he would have no say in Saurna's judgment. He knew what Anguirel was like. For years she had turned a deaf ear to her son's growing list of indiscretions.
Would she change with cold evidence thrust in her face?
A message had been sent, not only to summon her, but also to inform the lady of Saurna's crime. It had gone out shortly after he had returned, delivering Elenlor to her father's house and Lady Anguirel's son to his guards.
Thranduil could see Elalkar now. The lord's face was dark and flushed, his eyes flashing. Lady Hirilor stood beside him, no less enraged than her husband. Both had their eyes fixed on the fair elf that stood near the Elvenking's throne, restrained by two guards.
Upon regaining consciousness, Saurna exhibited no signs of remorse. On the contrary, he had actually had the nerve to tell Thranduil that he had made a serious mistake.
It had taken all the Elvenking's control not to draw his knives and end the elf's life.
A small commotion rose from the other end of the room. Thranduil sat up a little, craning his neck to see over the heads of his people. The sound of a spear butt hitting the floor echoed sharply through the room.
At that sound, the elven people drew back towards the walls, forming a path from the door to their king's feet. Thranduil's eyebrows drew together in a ferocious scowl, cold pride and dignity radiating off every inch of him.
The door guard waited until the elves ceased their movement, then announced the raven haired elf that stood beside him. "My Lord, the Lady Anguirel."
A deathly still silence fell over the room as Thranduil rose. "Approach me, Lady." The king's voice was harsh in the sudden quiet. His tone lowered the temperature of the chamber several degrees.
With all eyes fixed on her, Anguirel raised her head and began what must have been the longest walk of her life. The rustle of her mourning attire was the only sound that could be heard. She held her chin high, her gaze fixed on her monarch, never wavering either to the right or left.
Those that gazed on her felt their brows draw together in confusion. Something had changed. What was it? Elder elves exchanged quick glances, a light of understanding in their eyes.
Dirion felt his jaw drop as his mother swept past him. At first glance, a casual observer would have said that she had not changed since the night when he had spoken to her three decades ago. She still wore the black dress of mourning. The flowers that symbolized her grief were wound through her raven hair. He could feel the almost palpable wave of sadness she had borne since his father's death.
But her eyes had changed.
Her eyes were not the gray of a rainwashed sky. They were the eyes that he remembered from his youth. The gray of iron. And therein lay the difference.
Tears dimmed the elf's eyes as he watched his mother stride forward, her shoulders firm, her back almost painfully straight. Dirion could have wept for joy and sorrow both. Joy, that he should see the strength that had been so much a part of his mother return; sorrow, that when she had recovered it, she should face something like this.
Anguirel reached the dais on which Thranduil's throne rested. Without a word she sank into a deep curtsy, her head bowed.
"Rise." Thranduil stepped down and took her hand, raising her to her feet. The Elvenking's eyes were cold, his face grim. "Lady Anguirel, you have been informed of the crime that your son has committed."
Anguirel's face paled, but she nodded. "I have, My Lord."
"Were it my choice," the fair elf said icily, "He would not still be alive for me to release him to you." Thranduil grimaced, as if his next words left a bad taste in his mouth. "As it is, you are the head of his house. His judgment is yours."
Anguirel bowed her head once more and turned to her son. "Release his arms," she spoke to the two guards. They did so, reluctantly, and stepped back. Saurna smirked.
An angry mutter raced through the room. Was he to be set free? Would Anguirel allow him to escape unpunished? Many were of the opinion that if she did, the King of Mirkwood would cease to obey the law and take matters into his own hands.
Dirion alone saw the swift spark that lit his mother's otherwise emotionless face.
Saurna did not recognize that spark. He had never seen it before. With an insolent grin at his king, the youth stepped towards his mother.
Anguirel took one step, and with a movement that was almost to swift to follow, backhanded her son viciously.
The elves gasped almost in unison. Shocked, not only at the blow itself, but also at the unexpected strength behind it, Saurna fell ungracefully on his rump. He sat on the floor, to stunned to move.
"Raug!" Anguirel's voice cut through the air like a knife. "You dare to stand before your king after what you have done! You should have been brought in on your hands and knees to beg forgiveness from the maid you have wronged along with the entire court!" Her eyes blazed fiercely as she glared down at him.
Still unsure of what exactly had just happened, Saurna made as if to rise, only to feel his mother's hand across his face once more. "Do not rise!" The lady's voice rose in almost a shriek. "Stay down! Down on the floor! Be bowed with the guilt and shame that I have born for years!"
The elf lady turned from him abruptly, tears pooling in her eyes. "My king," her voice was little more than a whisper. "I too must beg forgiveness. It was by my own fault that this came to pass. I was warned…" Anguirel's voice broke for a moment, and she shut her mouth tightly, trying to regain control.
Dirion could stand it no more. Stepping from the crowd, he strode to his mother and placed his arm around her shoulders in a comforting embrace.
Anguirel cleared her throat and continued, though her voice grew so soft even the sharp eared elves had to strain to hear her. "I was warned. By those who are wise beyond their years." Her eyes turned toward her dark haired son as he held her. Several of her other children were making their way through the crowd and coming to their mother's side. "But I did not listen. And now my mistakes have caused grief to you and your subjects. I beg forgiveness, My Lord, not only from you, but from all here."
The lady cleared her throat once more. "I regret to inform you, Sire, that I am leaving for the shores of Valinor." Dirion tightened his arms around his mother as she voiced her decision. Anguirel sighed softly. Obviously, what she was going to say next was not easy for her. "Since I will be leaving, I give my son into your hands."
Saurna shot his mother a desperate look, but she appeared not to see.
It was on the tip of Thranduil's tongue to immediately announce the blond elf's execution…but he forced himself to consider. He gazed at Anguirel intently. Though she stood tall, her chin lifted, her gray eyes were filled with tears. He could see through the rage against her son…and found the sorrow. Despite what he had done, Saurna was her son still. She was angry, very angry…but she did not wish for his death.
"Nana," the spoilt upstart's voice was barely above a whisper. "Let me go with you…" Saurna tried to catch Anguirel's eye without success. At the sound of his voice, the elf woman shuddered, but she would not look at him. She stood firm, waiting for her king's judgment on her son.
Thranduil heard him. With a deep sigh, the king put aside his own thirst for revenge. After seeing the noble spirit of this woman, he would not be the one to inflict more pain on her. "Very well. Your son will accompany you, Lady Anguirel."
A brief flash of deepest gratitude crossed her face, before her anger covered it. She shot a glare at her son that looked as if it might burn a hole through his forehead. Thranduil smiled to himself. Though Saurna was getting what he wanted, the King doubted very much if he would enjoy the journey to Valinor.
With one quick step, Lady Anguirel was beside the spoilt youth. Her other children watched, torn between amusement and sorrow as she reached down and caught her son's pointed ear between strong fingers.
To cheers from the assembled elves, she proceeded to very nearly drag him away.
0-0-0-0
Thranduil gazed after the elf woman's retreating form in amazement. It was incredible! Who would have thought that she would ever have regained her spirit. He was saddened, he realized, that she was going to leave. Yet he understood. Her grief had been great for many years. Though she had forced herself out of her cocoon, she needed the healing that Valinor would bring. Thranduil silently wished her well.
The Elvenking stepped down from his throne and made his way through the crowd to where Elenlor's parents stood. For a moment, he frowned. Where was the elf maid? Why was she not present?
Elalkar saw him as he approached. "Sire."
Thranduil nodded distractedly. "Where is Elenlor?"
The dark haired elf lord exchanged a significant look with his wife. Hirilor's eyebrows were drawn together in worry. "She refused to leave our home, your Majesty."
"Refused?" Concern shown in the fair elf's eyes. "Was she hurt badly? What is wrong?"
Elalkar shook his head. "She will not tell us. I think, however…" the elf paused for a moment, considering his words carefully. "I think, that she will be willing to speak to you."
His mind whirling with questions, Thranduil strode quickly towards the door.
0-0-0-0
Elenlor sat on a stone bench in her family's garden, her shoulders hunched against the sunlight. She allowed her head to fall forward, hiding her face as her golden hair fell around her.
Though she did not bear many physical wounds from Saurna's attack, it had definitely left a very deep scar. She knew instinctively that such a mark would take a long time to heal, if it did at all.
Tears welled in her blue eyes. She blinked, but made no effort to wipe them away as they streamed down her face. She never wanted to leave her home again! A shudder coursed through her. If her parents had not made her come out, she would never have encountered Saurna. Of course, then she never would have met Thranduil either…but then he would not have been in danger.
The thought hit her with the force of a dwarf hammer. Because of her, he could have been injured. The only reason he came out was to protect her anyway…she could not allow it to continue. If there was even the slightest chance that he could come to harm because of her…she rose abruptly from the bench and began to pace.
She would tell him that he need not come anymore. She would not go into the woods. She would not leave her father's home! But she would miss him so. Swiftly, the golden maid banished the thought. She could not think on it. If she did, she knew she would not be able to hold to her resolution.
Wrapped in misery, Elenlor did not notice that another had joined her in the gardens.
0-0-0-0
Thranduil froze for a moment. Elenlor did not notice him, and he wondered how to catch the fair maid's attention without startling her.
As he watched, she stopped her pacing. Her slim shoulders began to shake, and he realized that she was silently crying. Forgetting himself, he rushed forward. "Elenlor!"
The elleth turned, and for a moment, he thought she would reach for him. Instead, she stepped back. "Your Highness."
Thranduil frowned. Her tone was formal. It had been very long since she had spoken so. He took a step towards her, forcing himself not to sweep her into his arms. "You were not there to see Saurna judged." His voice was concerned. "Is something wrong? Were you hurt?"
Elenlor's bottom lip trembled. "No, My Lord." She turned from him and seated herself at the stone bench. The sunlight poured over her, sparkling in her golden hair. Thranduil could see pain in her eyes, and he longed to comfort her.
"Why did you not come?"
"I did not wish to see him." Elenlor turned her eyes down, focusing on her hands as she twisted them together in her lap. "It is fortunate that you have come though, for I have something I need to tell you." A wince passed across her face, but as she spoke, her tone was steady. "You need not come to escort me any longer."
Of all the things she could have said, Thranduil was probably expecting that the least. His mouth dropped open, nearly hitting his chest. For several moments, he could not speak. "What…why…!"
Her face was pale, still streaked with tears. "I will not be leaving my home, therefore I will need no escort." She choked, but continued on. "And since I need no escort, you do not need to feel obligated to see me any longer."
"Obligated!" The word burst from Thranduil's lips as he tried to assimilate what he was being told. "Obligated?" He did not need to feel obligated to eat or drink or breathe either…unless he was fond of living!
"I put you in danger!" Her own voice was raised to match his. A sob rose in her throat and tears pooled in her eyes. "I will not have you hurt! If I were not to leave, you would not feel it necessary to watch over me!"
Something clicked within Thranduil's mind. So she thought that he had come with her merely to make sure she came to no harm? With one stride, he came up to the bench and swiftly knelt. "Elenlor." He took her hand, even as she turned her face away from him, sobbing bitterly. "Elenlor. Saes…tiro nin, meleth nin." He felt her stiffen and heard her gasp at the sound of his words. She turned and stared at him, her blue eyes wide with amazement…and dare he think that he saw hope within their depths? "Elenlor," he said again. "I have not followed you for thirty years because of your safety alone." One hand gently rose to stroke her cheek, and he rejoiced inwardly when she did not turn away from his touch.
"What do you mean?" her voice was a whisper, but he could definitely see a light starting to shine in her face.
"When I saw Saurna strike you," he said quietly, "I would gladly have killed him at that second. Not only because you were harmed…but because he sought to take the one whom I have long hoped to make mine." He heard her soft gasp, but continued on. "I have treasured your friendship, all the more because I know that you do not give it to many But if you desire, I would like more."
Elenlor was weeping softly, but her face was glowing from a deep joy.
"Melethon le, Elenlor." Thranduil spoke the words with a shiver, half dreading the response he would receive…
He need not have worried.
Tears of joy running down her cheeks, Elenlor flung her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "Melethon le, Thranduil."
After a long moment, Thranduil pulled back. Gently, he stroked Elenlor's hair away from her face. With a sigh of deepest contentment, he cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss.
0-0-0-0
On the first day of fall, when the leaves of Mirkwood were turning gold, the Elvenking and the daughter of Elalkar were wed.
It was a beautiful wedding, the beauty springing not from any garlands, or trappings, nor even the Lady Elenlor's lovely face. The elves of Mirkwood maintained that the beauty came from the light of love that shone from both the faces of the two who were to be joined.
They were married in the afternoon, when the sun's light poured into the palace courtyard like a stream of honey. As golden as the light was, it could not compare with the Lady Elenlor's radiance. She was alight with happiness. A crown of leaves graced her hair. On her finger was her betrothal gift, a ring made of mithril with small white stones set on it. When the sunlight struck it, the lovely ring shone like a star.
The fair king was no less alight. Throughout the day he never took his eyes off his new bride. Love was evident in every gesture, every tender touch.
For that one day, the light of their love seemed to drive back the shadows that sought to claim their home, and for many years after, a ray of brilliance seemed to follow the young couple wherever they went.
But, even amongst the immortal elves, nothing lasts forever…
0-0-0-0
Raug- DemonSaes…Tiro nin, meleth nin.- Please…look at me, my love.
Melethon le, Elenlor- I love you, Elenlor