Disclaimer: Professor Tolkien owns Middle-Earth and all the canon characters. Peter Jackson owns the movie adaptations. Any original names or characters that you might not recognise are probably mine. As is Millie.

A/N: For those of you following the other stories in my "Castaways" series, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Maggie and CO. Millie is just kind of shouting at me, asking me to tell her story. I'm alternating the chapters so this one will be from Thranduil's POV but they'll be written in Third Person, rather than Millie's first person POV. This is going to be a slow burn, because I'm trying to teach myself how to develop new characters. This vaguely takes place in the same AU as my other fics, so there may be references to some other characters. On that note, if you are following "All Bonds of Fellowship", don't fret, I'm planning on uploading the next chapter very soon.

Finally, I'm basing this version of Thranduil on Lee Pace's rather excellent portrayal of our grumpy woodland king. I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this fic, so if you have ideas or suggestions of things you'd like to see, please do let me know.
That is enough rambling from me, please feel free to let me know in the comments/reviews.

Enjoy!

Chapter Two

Thranduil's hardships

Thranduil was grumpy

Not that he wasn't often grumpy, but even more so than usual these days. Recently, the King of the Woodland Realm had taken to locking himself in his study, which was really more akin to a library. It was located at the end of a long corridor and very few people dared venturing there, except by the king's permission. And it was indeed extremely rare that Thranduil ever gave anyone permission to enter his private sphere. Nobody who valued their life dared bothering the king, except the servants who would bring him food and drink. Once upon a time, the Mirkwood Palace was filled with life and great parties would be hosted. Elves from across Middle-Earth would attend and sometimes even me. Music, laughter and dancing echoed through the palace and it was a happy place.

For some time after his father's death, Thranduil kept up his traditions as a way of honoring him. The birth of Legolas gave him and his wife even more reasons to celebrate and for a few precious centuries, their family was happy. Then came the battle that changed everything, and his wife died at the hands of their enemies. Something in Thranduil also died that day and never revived.

The king couldn't remember the last time he had felt genuine joy or smiled. In fact, as far as he was concerned, those emotions were useless and he didn't need them to be king. His people respected him regardless and he had certainly been nothing but a fair ruler to them. It wasn't his fault that the Valar for some reason decided to punish him. Well, it wasn't like he needed their forgiveness or validation and he refused to seek it.

Pride is a disease, Elrond once said and perhaps once upon a time, Thranduil would have listened to his old friend. Things were different now though and the two weren't as close as they once had been.

Thranduil was no fool. He knew what people were saying about him. They thought him a cold and cruel king who showed neither love nor mercy. As far as he was concerned, he didn't need either. Elrond was a fair ruler in his own way, but Thranduil had always thought that the Lord of Imladris was far too kind and lenient. In their youth though, it was often Elrond who sought Thranduil's counsel when it came to matters of the heart. He recalled times when they would climb up to the top of the tree crowns of the Greenwood and watch the starlit skies at night. Life had been simpler then.

Nowadays, Thranduil was lucky if Elrond bothered replying to his letter within a month. Love had softened his friend's heart and not entirely for the better. He didn't say these things to Elrond's face of course, he wasn't stupid. Still, neither was Elrond and no doubt he was well-aware of Thranduil's feelings regarding his choice of partner.

Love.

Love was the real disease.

It could turn any sensible elf, man or even dwarf to a complete fool who completely lacked judgement.

This month, specifically in a fortnight's time, marked a millennia since the death of his precious wife. Contrary to popular belief, time did not heal all wounds. No matter how much time passed, Thranduil missed his wife and the more he missed her, the more his heart hardened. Even though she was no longer with them, he still saw a lot of her in his son.

These days though, Legolas hardly looked Thranduil in the eyes. Things had never been quite the same between them ever since the incident with the dwarves.

Rather foolishly, Thranduil assumed that Legolas would make the effort to return home. Since childhood, this month of mourning his mother's death was something that bonded them. Over the years though, Legolas had become more distant and to say that their relationship was difficult was a great understatement.

On that particular evening, Thranduil sat at his desk, writing down a response to one of Elrond's letters. Across the room, the dancing flames of the fire warmed up the otherwise cold room. It was autumn and while this season was usually pleasant, it was going to get much colder in the weeks to come. Winter in Mirkwood was certainly a season to behold with one's own eyes, but it was also known for being brutally cold. Thranduil had always liked the crackling sound the fire and ever since a child it had calmed him down.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Three loud knocks on the large oak door snapped the king out of his thoughts. He exhaled a frustrated sigh and composed himself. A king showed no signs of weakness.

"Leave."

At first, Thranduil thought he could happily return to dipping his quill into the pot of ink next to him. A one letter word was all it usually took to be left alone, but not this time.

"Hir-nin Thranduil, your presence is required." came Hallath's voice outside the door.

Since Tauriel's departure after her betrothal to Prince Kili, Thranduil had found himself in need of appointing a new captain to his guard. Hallath was an eager young Silvan elf who had proven himself a good warrior and loyal to the crown. As a young elfling, he'd often followed Legolas around and looked up to him as though he were a brother. These days, Legolas spent more time with humans and dwarves rather than his own kin.

"Did I stutter or are you deaf?" Thranduil asked sharply.

"I am neither but I'm afraid this is rather urgent, my lord, and it cannot wait." Hallath replied. By now, other people would have shown their fear with a slightly shake voice, by the young Captain's voice remained resolute.

"What could possibly be so important that it requires you to disturb me in my month of mourning?" Thranduil wondered

"A girl, my lord. A human girl." Hallath explained "She was found unconscious in our kingdom."

A girl? Had he heard that right? It was rare that people ever ventured into Mirkwood and any humans in the area stayed in Dale, where they were under protection of the dwarves who resided in Erebor.

"Why did you bring her here?" Thranduil asked

"There is something strange about her." Hallath said, the tone in his voice had changed now and he did sound a little frightened. "I do not think she belongs here."

A bit of ink accidentally smudged Thranduil's intricate calligraphy on the letter in front of him and the elf-lord cursed in Sindarin as he wiped ink off his finger. Strange, he thought. In thousands of years, Thranduil's hand had never faltered or so much as trembled while he was writing. An uneasy feeling stirred within the pit of his stomach and it was enough for him to rise from his seat and see what was going on.

Hallath was right.

She was a strange girl and if Thranduil knew one thing, it was that strange humans who found their way to his kingdom seldom brought good things with them.

At a glance, the elvenking could tell she was young. Perhaps twenty human years and merely a child to the eyes of an elf. The girl's blonde hair was carried in a strange u-shape, which curved up towards her ears and it parted to the left side. Her eyes were emerald green, which Thranduil had rarely ever seen in humans before. She wore a strange dark blue dress with short arms and seemed to have a sort of stitched red cross on its left side. A rather impressive cut on her forehead had managed to graze one of her eyebrows and only just missed her eyes. Thranduil guessed that she must have either fallen and landed on something very sharp or somebody had tried to slice her with a blade, but the latter seemed rather unlikely.

Thranduil watched her from the top of the steps for a while and was fascinated by how quiet she was. Normally when people found themselves in a dungeon, their instincts would be to call out for help. Yet, this strange human girl who had seemingly wandered into his kingdom said nothing. Even though she didn't notice it herself, Thranduil saw the fear in her eyes as he walked down the steps leading down to his dungeons.

"My Captain tells me that you were found just by the borders of my realm." Thranduil said calmly as he walked up to the dungeon. "You are human, but you do not look as though you belong in these parts. Tell me, how did you come to be in my kingdom?"

At first, she stayed silent as if she was pondering how to explain herself. Thranduil saw how her eyes seemed to study the details of the prison she was locked in. It was an expression of curiosity, as if she was trying to understand where she was.

"I already told your Captain that I don't know how I got here or what this place even is." she said sharply.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and merely crossed his eyes. He was intrigued now.

"What is your name?" he asked, plain and simple.

"Millicent Thomas. I'm a nurse from London."she replied "I was walking home from the hospital where I work in the middle of an air raid. I thought I'd died, but I somehow woke up here."

Milliecent. What a strange name.

"Air raid?" Hallath asked "What is an air raid? I have never heard of such a thing."

"You're telling me you're not Germans?"

The tone in Millicent's voice was one of genuine surprise. Thranduil did not know who these Germans were, but judging by the girl's reaction and her tense body language, they were not her allies. There were many peoples of Middle-Earth and small villages within kingdoms, but throughout his long lives, he had never heard of Germans.

"No, we are elves." he explained "I am King Thranduil of Mirkwood and you, Millicent Thomas are in my palace."

Once again, something changed in Millicent's expression and this time, it was disbelief. Then, to both Thranduil and Hallath's surprise, she burst out laughing. After a few moments, Millicent caught her breath and composed herself, but the disbelief was still there.

"My head must have taken a real beating when I fell over," she said "Don't be daft! Elves don't exist. They're just fairy stories. Where am I really? If I'm not a war prisoner, then how on Earth did I get from London to….Mirkwood?"

Thranduil didn't like it. That uneasy feeling stirring in his gut. How could somebody not believe in the existence of elves when the proof was right in front of them. Elves were the first people to be granted life by the Valar themselves. Not liking elves was one thing, but not believing them was unheard of.

"What shall we do with her, my lord?" Hallath asked, keeping a steady hand on his sword. He also felt uneasy.

"Keep her there." Thranduil replied "Until she decides to speak the truth."

No. Thranduil was having none of it. This girl, whoever she was, was blatantly lying. He couldn't quite figure out the reasoning behind it but that was unimportant. So, upon deciding that he'd heard enough, the elvenking simply turned on his heels to walk away when Millicent spoke again.

"You're just going to let me stay here?" Millie asked "In this prison? I haven't even done anything! I don't know why I'm here! You cannot keep me here against my will."

"As it so happens, I can, because I am the king." Thranduil replied "And nobody tells me what I can or cannot do in my kingdom."

"You're telling me you're not German, but you're just as bad as they are."

Despite not knowing who these Germans were, Thranduil knew those words were meant to sting and strangely, they did. Instead of turning around, he kept his head straight and walked back upstairs, with Hallath following suit. Upon returning to the throne room, Thranduil turned to his captain, who above all looked puzzled.

"What shall we do with her, my lord?" Hallath asked "Should we really just keep her here?"

"Yes, until she tells us what she's really doing here." Thranduil replied "There is a strange air about that girl, which I do not trust."

"What if she is telling the truth?"

"Then keep her there anyway. Her fate is no concern of mine."

If Thranduil only knew then, how wrong he was.

To be continued…

There we go! Another rather short chapter, but I really just wanted to get a feel of Thranduil's character because writing him is really difficult. Did I do him justice?