Present
She had worn the knives from that day on. The Elvenking groaned as memories started to come quickly, forcing their way through his consciousness. He did not want to remember. He did not want to think of the day…
Pain tore through his heart. Why must this be?
Others had lost loved ones. Many went into almost trances, their grief mercifully wiping away the sharper details, allowing reality to pass them by. Why could that not be the case for him?
His sorrow was horribly unforgettable. He could recall with uncanny accuracy every instant of that day.
Thranduil sat in his chair, his head bowed. He remembered.
He remembered everything…
----------------Past
Elenlor hummed softly to herself as she walked, her watchful gaze focused on her child. Legolas skipped and ran ahead of her, only to come dashing back with a stick, a flower, some odd leaves…
The fair queen sighed softly as she looked up. Mirkwood's trees had grown thick, their branches forming a roof over the path. She wrinkled her nose slightly. It was a stifling roof. No sunlight could force its' way through those leaves.
Thus, she and her son were in search of sunlight.
They were leaving Mirkwood.
"No, Legolas," Elenlor called ahead as she saw her son prepare to dash after a squirrel. "Stay on the path."
Thranduil had argued when she said she wished to take Legolas for an outing. He did not have time at the moment to accompany them, and Mirkwood had grown increasingly more deadly. So they had struck on a deal. If they would stick to the path, he would not have a problem with them visiting the meadow just outside Mirkwood's borders. It would have been faster to cut through the trees to reach their destination, but although Elenlor would have done so herself, she would not risk her son in that manner. Still, it was only fifteen to twenty minutes towalk. Maybe half an hour.
"Nana, tiro!" Legolas ran back to his mother and tugged at her hand, pointing ahead of them.
The lovely elf smiled down at her son. "I see, ion nin." The trees were starting to grow further apart. A gleam of sunshine forced its' way through. She could see the end in sight. A mischievious grin pulled at her lips. "Come on. I will race you, Legolas!" The queen broke into a run, to the delight of the blond princeling.
"No fair, Nana! You didn't count!" Giggling, he rushed after her.
0-0-0-0
Elenlor burst through the last few trees, laughing. The sunlight filled her eyes, nearly blinding her with the sudden brightness. She was amazed at how hard she had actually had to run to stay ahead of her son. He was very fast for an elfling.
Legolas caught up with her, his blue eyes wide as he gazed out over the meadows. Elenlor suddenly realized that this was the blond prince's first time outside Mirkwood's boundaries. He had never seen anything like this.
"Nana," he whispered, tugging at her hand. "Where are the trees?"
"No trees here, Legolas!" The queen caught him up and spun around, whirling until the sky and ground seemed to merge. Legolas shrieked and laughed, throughly enjoying the process. With a plop, Elenlor sat down hard, her son in her lap. She was flushed, her hair falling over her face, but she loved it.
"Again!" Legolas bounced up and down, inadvertently driving his small elbows into his mother's ribs.
The fair elf shook her head helplessly. She couldn't even see straight at the moment, much less stand up!
Seeing that his mother was unable to rise, Legolas set off to find a way to entertain himself. He was fascinated by the lack of trees across such a large area. Nothing in Mirkwood was remotely like this. His whole life he had been surrounded by the close growing oaks of his home.
"Do not wander too far away, Legolas," Elenlor called after him. The prince aknowledged her instruction and quickly scampered off.
The fair queen leaned back on the palms of her hands and tilted her head towards the heavens, enjoying the sunlight. Though the sky was blue, she could see clouds in the distance. She frowned. They might shorten her day with her child. She would keep an eye on them.
Bringing her attention back onto the elfling, she saw that he was rapidly clambering up the side of a hill a ways ahead. The queen stood quickly. "Legolas…" Too late. He had disappeared over the other side. Elenlor made a face and strode after him. She did not really want the prince out of her sight.
As she reached the bottom of the small hill, she was surprised to see her son coming back over the top, his small face wreathed in smiles. "Nana! Look, Nana! Come see!" Seizing her hand, he dragged her with him.
Elenlor chuckled as he pulled her up the incline. She wondered what new 'treasure' he had found. The queen gasped as she saw what he had discovered.
The hill sloped down into a bowl like depression. Covering the ground were hundreds of yellow flowers, of a kind Elenlor had never seen before. A sweet scent rose gently, not overpowering even with their great numbers.
"They're lovely, ion nin," she said happily, sinking down amidst the delicate stems. Legolas was already busy, picking them by the handful and dumping them into his mother's lap.
"We will bring them back for Ada," he said cheerfully, depositing another bundle. "Since he could not come with us."
Elenlor grinned, imagining Thranduil with a bunch of flowers. "I am sure he will love them."
Time passed quickly, the sunlit morning fading to afternoon more swiftly than Elenlor would have believed possible. Soon, they should head home, she realized. The fair queen was reluctant for the time with her son to end, but reminded herself that they could always return.
Perhaps next time Thranduil would be able to accompany them. A soft smile lit her lovely face as she thought of it. Her husband was very busy, and she cherished every moment they had together. A day spent outside of Mirkwood might do him good. He needed to relax every so often or he would work himself to a nervous wreck and have to be shipped off to Valinor.
Elenlor, rose, preparing to call Legolas…she froze, listening intently. What was that? There was sound in the air that she could not place. It did not belong. A soft chiming noise. Metal striking metal. Something rattled, and her ears perked up. Her body tensed. She could not be certain, but it almost sounded like chains…
0-0-0-0
Daelyg looked back over his slave line with satisfaction. It had not been easy plucking a few extras out of Laketown, but he had done it. He had kept his trade going for years now, and one couldn't do well in a business like his without some wily ways.
Daelyg was tall, strong, and above all, cruel. Not only did he deal in broken hearts and shattered lives, he betrayed his own kind. Oh, he would sell the greater majority of his wares to humans, but every so often, he would single a few out and give them as gifts to the goblins of the Grey Mountains. Payment to make sure that he would cross over in safety.
The slave trader knew that he was walking a thin line, traveling so close to Mirkwood after going through Laketown. There was at least a trade agreement between the elves and the humans, and he did not know how deeply it ran. Would the woodelves attack to save those from Laketown?
He couldn't help it. Ever since he had started dealing with the goblins, he had a secret wish to snag one of the fair folk that dwelt in Mirkwood. The human fairly drooled whenever he thought of what the goblins would pay to have one of the Eldar in their slimy grasp. He was not a fool, however. He would never ever venture under the shadows of Mirkwood's massive trees. No. It was the first rule he had ever learned in his business. Do not go after your victim in their own home. Homes were protected. Guarded. And there were usually other people in the dwelling that would hear the scuffle and come to help. You waited until your victim left their home and was in unfamiliar territory.
He had seen elves outside of Mirkwood, of course. They stayed in Laketown frequently. Even then, Daelyg was not so stupid as to pursue them. Elves had a nasty reputation as being excellent fighters.
If he were ever to capture one, he would want a child. He snorted at himself. How often did one see an elven child without guardians outside of its' home? Never.
"Daelyg," one of his men came alongside him. "We're awfully close to the wood." Salen glanced along the slave line, and continued in a hushed tone. "What if one of those new ones knows some of the elves…?"
Daelyg jerked his head irratibly. Salen immediately fell silent and resumed his position at the back of the line. Daelyg sighed. He knew Salen had a point. But he couldn't help it.
"Chief!" A tall, lanky man came rushing towards Daelyg, his eyes wide. The slave driver immediately recognized Trian, his scout. Something in the man's look made him take immediate notice. There was something important happening.
Trian gestured wildly, telling the front leaders to halt the slave line. Daelyg's eyebrows flew high up on his forehead. If Trian thought they should stop, this was really important.
The man reached his leader and caught hold of Daelyg's arm. "You have to see this."
0-0-0-0
Elenlor shivered slightly. The clouds she had noticed earlier were a lot closer. Something was wrong. The faint sound had stopped, but she still felt uneasy. The hair on the back of her neck prickled unpleasantly. It was time to go. She opened her mouth to call Legolas…
"An elf!"
The words froze in her throat. Her sharp hearing could hear the whispered words clearly, but she soon wished she couldn't.
"Not just one. See, there's a little one too."
"Well done. Get the others. We'll take the boy."
"What about the woman? She's pretty good looking…"
"No. I've heard things about elves. No adults. We'll kill her and take the child. Hurry, get the others up here. Leave two to watch the slaves, and tell the others to be quiet."
Elenlor felt a bitter taste rising in her mouth. Her back was to the slavers, and she felt hideously vulnerable, but she forced herself to stay that way. If they thought she had seen them, they would attack immediately, and she needed all the time she could get.
"Legolas," she whispered. "Tolo hi, Legolas."
Her mind was whirring even as her son raced towards her. Her first impulse was to snatch him up and dash towards Mirkwood. She realized, that this would be impossible. There was no way she could carry Legolas and hope to outrun anything.
Legolas could not outrun a fully grown human male. He would need time. She would stay behind; fight them off for as long as she could. She quailed at the idea of her golden boy running through Mirkwood alone, but there was no other option. Legolas could get help…before she could open her mouth to instruct the child, she rejected the idea. If Legolas knew that she would be in trouble, he would not leave her side. He would 'fight' for her. She had to find another way to let someone know what was happening without telling him.
There was only once choice left open to her.
She smiled cheerfully at her son as he reached her. Masking her inner turmoil, she bent and embraced him. Legolas was used to hugs and eagerly threw his small arms around his mother's neck.
Elenlor buried her face in his shoulder for one instant. She could not spare any more time. Drawing back, she forced herself to smile. "Legolas, do you like my knives?"
The blue eyes lit up. "Yes!"
Using the cover of her body, the elf queen drew one of her blades and held it out to her son. "Here. Take it. This one is yours." She watched the awed expression on his face as he took weapon. Her heart felt as if it would break. As soon as Thranduil saw her blade, he would know that something was wrong.
"Hannon le, Nana!"
"Would you like to have the other one?" She gently stroked his cheek as he nodded eagerly. "Well, I will tell you what you have to do." Taking hold of his shoulders, she turned him until he faced the woods, his back towards her. "You have to beat me home."
His voice was eager, excited. "A race, Nana?"
"Yes." She wanted to cry, but there was no time. "A race. But there are rules to this race, Legolas." Elenlor brushed gentle fingers over his hair. "Rule number one. To win the knife, you have to run all the way home, and beat me there. Rule number two…" her voice almost cracked, but she quickly mastered herself. "You can not look back. Do you understand? If you look back before you make it home, I win."
Legolas was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement. "I understand!"
The elf queen wanted to hold him fiercely, but she could not. He would suspect. Swiftly, she kissed the top of his head. "Melethon le, Legolas."
Surprised, Legolas looked up at her. "Melethon le, Nana." An impish gleam lit his blue eyes. "Ready?"
Elenlor crouched, as though she too would shoot off. "Set." 'Run hard, my little green leaf.'
"Go!"
In a blur of gold hair and limbs, the prince was dashing away.
Elenlor had not moved. Slowly, she drew her other blade. Tears rolled down her face as she watched her son run. Never before had she realized just how beautiful the sight was. A tremor shook her body. She did not want to die. She wanted to live. She wanted to see her son grow, and watch him play for years to come. The queen thought of her husband and choked. She wanted to hold her husband again, to feel safe in the strong circle of his arms.
"Hey! He's getting away!"
"You go after him, the rest of us will take care of her."
The elf queen's body tensed. She could hear footsteps racing toward her. A heavy body. Human. He was not coming for her. This was the one who was going after her child. The knuckles of her delicate hand turned white as she gripped the long handled knife. For her son, she would give everything. Even her life. 'Forgive me, Thranduil. You know why I do this.'
The human was ten feet behind her…now five…he was coming even…
In a blur of speed, she lashed out. Holding her weapon parallel to the ground, she sliced through the air so quickly the wind whistled.
It cut through the human's throat like butter. He fell with a gurgle. His blood poured out over the bunches of flowers Legolas had picked.
Shouts of outrage echoed. Men raced toward her, weapons held high.
The Queen of Mirkwood stood her ground. Righteous rage rose within her as she saw her enemies approach. How dare they think to harm her son! Though she longed to hurl challenges at them, she clamped her lips tightly shut. She could not allow herself to make a sound. If she let loose a cry, Legolas might hear.
And if he heard her cry out, he might come back…
0-0-0-0
Thranduil was worried. He could not put his finger on what was wrong exactly, but something was tearing at his peace of mind. Perhaps it was the growing storm clouds, coupled with the fact that his wife and son had not yet returned from their outing.
"Is everything all right?" Halynder looked up from a letter he was signing, his eyebrows drawn together. "Thranduil?"
The Elvenking nodded distractedly from his position beside the window. It offered a very good view of the gates, and he wanted to see his family the moment they returned.
"You never were a good liar," Halynder said dryly. Though his tone was light, a frown creased his forehead. Rising from his seat, he came and laid a gentle hand on his king's shoulder. "They will be fine. I am sure Elenlor will return before the rains begin."
Rather than comforting him, Halynder's words only served to strengthen the intangible fears growing in his mind. He could hear the taut undertone in his friend's voice, and realized uneasily that Halynder was worried as well.
A shout from the gates brought Thranduil's green eyes snapping back around. The gaurds were yelling, they were opening the heavy wooden doors…
An icy wave of fear gripped the Elvenking's heart. He could see his son darting through the gateway. Only his son.
Behind him, Halynder gasped. Thranduil felt his knees suddenly weaken with shock. Clutched in Legolas' fist was one of Elenlor's knives.
Without a word, the fair king whirled away from the window and sprinted from the room. He could hear Halynder following close behind him. Blood pounded in his ears, accenting the accelerated beat of his heart. A powerful, nameless emotion drove him faster and faster through the halls of his home. Elves quickly moved out of his way, drawing to the sides of the corridors.
"Legolas!" Thranduil burst into the courtyard. He could see one of the elves on guard trying to persuade the prince to release his mother's weapon. Legolas was obviously unwilling to comply.
"Ada!" Seeing his father, the elfling broke away from the guard and raced toward the fair king. 'I won, Ada, I won!"
"Legolas!" Thrnaduil fell to his knees and caught his son by the shoulders. "Legolas, where is Nana?"
"I beat her home Ada! I won! See?" Legolas waved the blade wildly to illustrate his point. " I won Nana's knives!"
Thranduil was hard pressed not to shake his son. "Legolas," he said quietly, trying desperately not to let his urgency color his tone. "Listen to me, this is very important. I need you to tell me what happened. Why did Nana give you her knife?"
"We had a race," the blond prince said, somewhat warily, uneasy at his father's tone of voice and expression. "Nana said I had to beat her home to win. She gave me one knife and said if I won, I could have the other." Legolas cocked his head to the side, wondering why his father seemed so upset. "I did say 'thank you,' Ada."
" I know, I know you did," Thranduil almost laughed, but was afraid it would turn hysterical. "Did she say anything else?" The Elvenking felt as though he was being slowly smothered. Elenlor would never have given Legolas the weapons…unless something was horribly wrong. "Did she?" The fair king could see his son thinking about it. The blond brows drew together, blue eyes narrowed…
"She told me that I could not look back…"
An agonized cry burst from Thranduil's throat, echoing eerily in the suddenly silent courtyard. For a moment, he could not move. Could not think! Elenlor!
Legolas jumped in alarm, eyes wide and frightened as he saw the look on his father's face. "Ada, I am sorry…"
"No! No, Legolas, it is not you, ion nin." The king stood quickly and thrust Legolas in Halynder's direction. "Go with Halynder, Legolas."
The raven haired elf swiftly took hold of his prince, lifting the elfling with ease. His heart pounded in alarm as he saw his friend's face. "Thranduil?" Never before had he seen such an expression of fear. Not fear for oneself, but for someone dear.
Thranduil shook his head. He could not say what it was he feared. "Take care of him." He turned and raced away. Halynder could hear him shouting for soldiers. If he knew his friend at all, the fair king would be gone within minutes.
"Mas na Ada badye?" Legolas whispered, his eyes still very round.
"I aran na badye utuvo Nana lin, ernil." The dark haired elf strove to keep his voice light. He did not want to worry the elfling needlessly. "Come on. We will go to my home and play with Halden. Would you like that?"
Legolas brightened a little at the mention of his playmate, but Halynder could still see haunted shadows in the blue depths. "Na Nana mae?"
The counselor paused, unsure of what to say. He wanted to say 'yes,'. He wanted to ease the child's mind and reassure him…but he could not do it. Not with any honesty. "Im estel, pen neth," he finally whispered. "Im estel."
0-0-0-0
Thranduil burst through the gates, fifteen elves at his back. They ran through Mirkwood, light and swift as shadows, though considerably more deadly. The fair king had decided against horses. Elenlor had told him where she planned on going, and it was not far. It would take longer to prepare the horses to leave than to just get there!
Fear gave wings to the king's feet. His men were hard pressed to keep up with him. Many were the times when all that could be seen of him was a golden glint of hair, weaving through the trees.
'Elenlor,' he thought as his heart twisted in his chest. 'What have you done?'
0-0-0-0
Elenlor gasped, falling back a pace. Her opponents pushed forward halfheartedly, none of them wanting to be the first within reach of her blade.
Blood streamed from a wound on her left arm. It was not deep, but painful. However, she had harmed them more than they had harmed her. Three men lay dead at her feet. There were five left. Six, if she counted the one who stood at the back and screamed at the others, urging them on. She was tiring, and he sensed it.
She spun the dagger skillfully, weaving a deadly pattern through the air. 'Thranduil, you would be proud of me. You taught me well.'
Soon, she knew they would overcome their fear. They would rush her, and she would not be able to hold all of them off.
They were coming now. She ducked as one swung at her clumsily with a sword. Spinning in under his arm, she drove her blade up into his rib cage. Blood gushed over her hands, but she did not have time to think about it. Elenlor jerked her weapon free, just in time to meet the blade of another.
A line of agony traced its' way across her ribs and she hissed, pulling away. One of them had come at her from the side, while her knife was occupied. They were surrounding her now, clutching at her with their hands.
A panic rose within her. Old memories of Saurna rushed into her mind. She struck out desperately, wildly.
A hand caught her wrist. Her arms were being twisted behind her back. The queen kicked and fought, but could not pull herself free.
"Stop!"
Elenlor looked up to see the man who had stayed behind coming towards her. There was a smirk on his face. She straightened as much as she could being held by his ruffians. Determined to face him like the queen she was, she glared at him with cold dignity.
Daelyg seemed taken aback…but only for a moment. He hefted the spear he held in his hands and looked at her with mock regret. "Such a pity," he said softly. "We could have used you when we reached the mountains…but you are just too much of a troublemaker."
0-0-0-0
Thranduil burst through the last trees, his eyes rolling back and forth, searching desperately. Where was she! He continued running, spotting a small hill. Perhaps she was on the other side.
Maybe there was nothing wrong with her…if she was in trouble wouldn't she be yelling for help? Wouldn't she be screaming? Maybe she was all right…
With that thought in mind, the king of Mirkwood crested the hill just in time to see a human plunge a spear into his wife.
0-0-0-0
The pain was horrible. She gasped, trying to draw breath through punctured lungs. The hands were slipping away from her arms and she was falling. Golden hair fell over her face as she hit the ground. There was something warm and wet flowing down her side.
A roaring sound grew in her ears. Was it the pounding of her heart? No…it was a voice. A voice she recognized. She could hear the clash of steel on steel. Blurred images passed before her eyes. She could not see through her hair…but somehow, did not have enough strength to push it away.
"Elenlor!"
Thranduil. It was Thranduil's voice she heard. The fair queen almost didn't recognize it. She had never heard him sound like that before.
Gentle hands lifted her, pushing the golden strands out of her eyes. She was glad. She wanted to see him again. Pain flared through her body as he pulled her into his arms. The agony was too great. She moaned.
"Silme!" She could see his face. Tears formed in the corners of her blue eyes and she tried to smile for his sake. Summoning her strength, she brought her hand up, weakly stroking his cheek.
"I am sorry.."
"Do not speak!" His arms tightened almost convulsively around her. "Rest, Silme."
Sorrow for him filled her heart. He had seen the dreadful wounds inflicted on her. He knew what they meant as well as she, but he was trying desperately to hold on to her. If he did not let her go, it would break his heart.
0-0-0-0
Thranduil pressed his hand over the gaping wound, trying to halt the crimson tide. He could not do it. Precious ruby droplets slipped past his fingers, falling to the ground.
"Thranduil…"
"Elenlor, please," the Elvenking met her eyes, begging. "Please, do not speak. We will get you home, the healers will treat you…"
The fingers on his cheek gently covered his lips. Though the blue eyes were glazed with pain, her gaze was surprisingly steady. "I will not make it home." She tried to inhale, choked, coughed. Blood flecked her lips, staining them red.
"No!" His voice was fierce. "No! You will live!"
Elenlor shook her head weakly. Her eyes suddenly grew wide, and anxious. "Legolas! Legolas…"
"He is safe," her husband reassured her. "Halynder is watching him. We will go home and you can see him after we make sure you are all right…" he could see the denial in her face, though she did not speak it aloud. What was even more horrible, was that he knew she was right. She was slipping away…he was losing her…
"Istelye," she gasped, trying to draw in enough breath. "Istelye…why I did this…"
The fair elf nodded, biting his lips. For their son. She had given everything for their son. He knew. He understood. He would have done the same in her place. Valar, why could it not have been him!
Blue eyes stared up at him, bright in a face that was pale with pain. Blood flecked lips moved, forming words even as he tried to silence them. "He will live."
"Yes," Thranduil could not tear his gaze away from those eyes, begging…pleading with their owner to stay. "He will live."
The lips curled into the faintest of smiles.
The blue eyes closed into the sleep that should never fall upon the firstborn.
"No! NO!" Even as he spoke, her hand slipped away from his face. He caught it and held it desperately, willing his own strength to flow into the delicate fingers. Was it his imagination, or were they already cold? "Elenlor, come back…please…" Tears streaked unheeded down his face, falling on her white skin. "Please, meleth nin!"
But the fair queen could no longer hear his voice. She was gone.
The King of Mirkwood caught her up in his arms, buried his face in her hair, and wept as his heart shattered.
0-0-0-0
The elven warriors bowed their own heads in grief, the loss of their queen a burden they all shared.
With a deep sigh, the captain, Troas, turned his attention to the matters at hand. His men had swiftly discovered the slave line and those who guarded it. They were in the process of freeing the slaves. The traders who were left alive were being gathered together. There were not many of them. Only three. The two that had been left to watch the slaves, and the man that had slain their queen.
The elves were not overly gentle in their handling of this particular human. Troas had taken custody of the human himself, his eyes cold and hard. His king deserved the right to mete out punishment to this…filth. That was the only thing keeping him from slitting the slave trader's throat immediately.
"My thanks, master elf," A man came up to Troas and bowed gravely. He was in better condition than some of the others, and the elf captain realized that he most likely came from Laketown. Troas nodded briefly, aknowledging the human. Another time, he might have been more forthcoming, but not now. Now, it was all he could do not to join his king in weeping. Queen Elenlor had been loved by all.
The former slave started to turn away, then paused. "Master elf, I would ask a favor of you."
Troas cocked his head curiously. "What would you ask, human?"
The man motioned towards the captured slavers. "We would like to take them back to Laketown, so that they may be tried."
The elf captain considered briefly. "You can take those two. This one," he tightened his grip on the leader painfully, "stays with us."
Dark hair fell over the man's pale face as he bowed again. There were bruises marring the skin, and Troas was quick to notice that though he was in better shape than some, he had not escaped ill treatment completely. The two slavers would not have an enjoyable trip. As he straightened, the man glanced over his shoulder at the weeping Elvenking.
"I am sorry," he said quietly, "for your loss."
"Not ours alone," Troas could not keep the pain entirely from his voice. "All of Mirkwood's." He saw the man's confused look and sighed softly. "She was our Queen." Tears stung the captain's dark eyes and he swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty.
The human's eyes grew wide in disbelief. He turned his gaze on the slaver held in Troas grasp and shook his head almost pityingly. "Whatever fate befalls you," he said softly, "you deserve it."
The former slaves drew away, taking their tormentors with them, leaving the elves with their king.
The sobs that shook Thranduil's shoulders gradually lessened. Slowly, he laid his wife down, brushing the hair away from her lovely face. It was odd, Troas thought disjointedly, but from the shoulders up, she looked as though she merely slept. Her face was peaceful, the pain mercifully wiped away.
The king rose to his feet gracefully, and turned. When his green gaze came to rest on Daelyg, the human shuddered in Troas' grip. Well he might quail, the captain thought grimly. Were his king to aim such a look of murderous rage in his direction, he would find a task that need his immediate attention…on the other side of Mirkwood, or preferably, even farther away.
"Your name, human." The fair king had never sounded so cold. His voice was layered with an icy rage. Fair features had taken on a stone-like quality. Only his eyes betrayed the emotions that ran beneath the marble exterior.
"Daelyg," the human croaked, even as he shook.
"Release him," Thranduil ordered his captain. "Give him his weapon."
Troas immediately did as ordered. He hesitated slightly as he handed the human's spear back, but only because his queen's blood was still bright on the blade. Daelyg seemed a little more confident with the weapon in his hand, but Troas noticed he did not meet the Elvenking's eyes.
The dark haired elf drew in his breath sharply as he saw the weapon that dangled from his king's hand.
Thranduil held the queen's blade lightly, his gaze fixed on the slave trader. "You took something from me, human," he said softly. "I can never get it back." With lightning speed, the fair elf leapt forwards, the dagger whistling as it sliced through the air.
Daelyg howled and jerked back, thrusting his spear awkwardly. Blood ran in a thin line from the new cut carved across his cheek. His cumbersome weapon did not come close to touching Thranduil. As soon as he had cut his opponent, the king was already leaping backwards, his wife's dagger held at the ready. The elven blade glittered coldly in the gray light.
Storm clouds gathered overhead as the two fought. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled, but nothing could distract the elf king from his goal. The human flinched and gasped at the light and noise, but his opponent was unmoved.
If anything, the storm's fury seemed only an extension of the terrible emotion pouring from those green eyes.
Daelyg thrust with his spear almost desperately, recognizing that he was extremely outclassed. He feinted with his weapon, stabbing right, then swiftly swinging left as Thranduil spun away from the deadly tip. The spear haft caught the Elvenking across the back, sending him flying to the ground. Hope rose in the human. Before the elf could regain his feet, he leapt forward, stabbing down.
Thranduil rolled, seized the wooden haft and used it like a ladder, pulling himself to his feet before the human could jerk it free from his grip.
Fear shone in the man's eyes for one brief second…
Thranduil drove his blade deep into his opponent's heart, twisting viciously.
Daelyg looked down at the dagger in his chest with surprise. A mocking grin spread across his face as he met the Elvenking's green gaze. "You got what you wanted," he croaked. "Happy?"
The fair elf actually shook with rage. "What I wanted!" His voice was little more than a harsh whisper. "I wanted what I had." He jerked his blade free and pushed the human away, his eyes cold as Daelyg fell to the earth. "and I already told you…I can never get it back."
0-0-0-0
Halynder stood before the palace gates, heart thudding with dreadful anticipation. The dark haired elf paced as he waited for some sound…some sign of his friend's return.
Legolas remained with the councilor's wife and child. Halynder had not wanted the boy here if things had gone badly. The fair prince had seemed quite content to stay with Nuel and play with Halden, but Halynder could see that worry that darkened his blue eyes.
The elf ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration. He wished he could have gone with his king. At least he would know by now what had happened, instead of enduring this uncertainty.
A gust of wind tugged at his robes, and the elf shivered. Not so much from cold as dread. The dark clouds overhead had thickened since the king had left, and lightning played across the dreary background. Halynder almost started in surprise as he felt a drop of rain spatter across his nose.
The one drop was swiftly followed by many more. Almost before he knew it, the councilor found himself standing in the midst of a downpour. In seconds, he was soaked to the skin. He knew he should retreat indoors…but could not force himself to do so. He wanted to be on hand the moment his king returned.
A sound caught the raven haired elf's attention. He froze, uncertain of what it portended. To a human, it would have sounded like nothing more than a strong wind through trees.
Halynder shuddered. His elven ears could hear the voices within the keening wail. With a great effort, he restrained himself from covering his ears with his hands. He had only heard such a sound once before in his life, and that was a black time in Lasgalen's history.
The trees were weeping. They were crying as they had the day Thranduil and his army of wood elves had returned from the great war, carrying many of their folk and their own king in the peaceful sleep of death. Halynder groaned almost involuntarily. He could hear the weeping growing louder and it tore at his heart. The elves atop the wall cried out in distress, not knowing what was wrong, only that they could hear their trees mourn.
All over Mirkwood the elven hearts quailed, as the sound of grief penetrated every dwelling. Fathers looked for their families, and mothers held their children close, trying to comfort elfling's tears even as they felt their own strength waver. In Halynder's home, his wife Nuel held Legolas in one arm, her son Halden in the other and wept with them both as they heard the trees wail.
In the courtyard of the palace, Halynder heard at last the sound he had waited for.
Thranduil's deep voice carried through the heavy wooden doors, and the raven haired elf felt his heart drop deep within his chest. His king's voice, rather than contrasting the sorrow of the trees, accented it with sorrow of his own. "Edro."
The doors swung open silently.
Thranduil stood in the gateway, his head bowed over the limp form in his arms. Halynder would have cried out, but his voice caught in his throat, choking him. Rain poured with pounding intensity on the Elvenking as he slowly entered his courtyard. The elves who had accompanied him silently followed behind, their faces a mute testimony to their monarch's pain.
"Thranduil!" Halynder moved towards his friend woodenly. His dark eyes were wide with the horror he could not suppress. As he drew closer, he choked. There was blood on his friend's clothing. Great crimson stains marked the fabric of the Elvenking's shirt. "Are you..?"
"No." his head shook, tossing droplets of water. "It is not my blood." His arms tightened almost convulsively on his unmoving burden. Pain glistened in his green eyes.
Halynder looked down and felt tears prick his eyes. They spilled unheeded down his cheeks, hidden in the torrential rain.
If it were not for the blood, he would have sworn that the queen merely rested. Her face was peaceful, and as lovely as it had always been.
No more, however, would Mirkwood see the light from her eyes. The blue orbs were closed against the world, and Halynder did not have to be told to know that none would see her eyes again this side of the sundering seas.
The Queen of Mirkwood was dead.
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Tolo hi, Legolas.- Come here, LegolasMelethon le, Legolas- I love you, Legolas
Hannon le, Nana- Thank you, mama.
Mas na Ada badye?- Where is Ada going?
I aran na badye utuvo nana lin, ernil.- The king is going to find your mother (mama), prince.
Na nana mae?- Is mama well?
Im estel, pen neth. Im estel.- I hope, young one. I hope.
Edro- Open0-0-0-0