Silently, she rose to her feet. The newcomer's eyes remained patiently fixed on hers, as if waiting for her to approach. Tadion remained standing quietly next to him, tall and royal and at the same time so carefree and casual, giving her an encouraging smile as she walked towards the door, her feet seeming to be walking out of mere instinct.
Distantly, she heard the faint sound of the large pair of door falling closed behind her, vaguely aware of the presence of the strange elf walking beside her, as if escorting her. Her father was awake. A profound relief washed over her small figure at the news, and yet she could not help but feel nervous at the same time. Her father was awake, and wanted to see her alone. Part of her longed to lay eyes upon the Elvenking's figure, as if only to see for herself that her father was really all right. And yet, part of her dreaded the inevitable encounter. True, she had helped him, but in the process she had reached to him in ways she had not been invited to. She had accessed his own powers, had forced her way into the strange and seemingly incomprehensible connection that he shared with the forest around. She knew she had needed to do so, but still, she could not help but feel that she might have intruded some sort of personal space. After all, she had reached his very spirit, had witnessed him in his most weakened state.
She shook her head lightly, forcing her thoughts away as they walked down the long deserted corridor, the silent walls of cold stone arching delicately above their heads, suddenly seeming too tall, too imposing. She could almost hear them whispering as they passed, their murmurs as gentle as the breeze, fragment of her own wondering imagination.
Much sooner than she had wanted to, they had arrived, the grand doors that she knew led to the King's bedchambers stretching menacingly before her, the guards at either side opening them without a word. Slowly, she stepped inside the large familiar space, the sound of her deaf footsteps muffled by the exquisite carpet beneath her feet. The elf that had escorted her did not step inside, bowing deeply instead before turning around, the majestic doors once again falling closed behind her.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, she crossed the spacious antechamber, her eyes not even bothering to admire the fine pieces of furniture that decorated the space, or the thin, tall columns that branched out like golden trees in grey stone to support the ceiling high above.
The main bedchamber was as grand and elegant as always. The long silk curtains, of a rich wine red shade, had been pulled open along the many windows that adorned the walls, the bright bronze light of late afternoon filtering into the space in neat warm rays. There was not the slightest memory of the branches that had stretched into the room only some hours before. Healers filled the room, a bunch of them standing patiently in one corner, as if waiting to see if they would be needed, while others slowly moved to and from the large bed at the center of the room, giving or receiving orders.
The Elvenking sat on the bed, leaning on a bunch of pillows placed against the intricate wooden headboard. His long light blond hair cascaded freely over his shoulders and down his back in like a fine silk curtain, framing his serene marble face. The feathered wine red covers had been pulled up to his waist, both of his arms resting neatly over them. Striking ice blue eyes found her almost immediately, unreadable, impenetrable, that steely, overwhelmingly powerful gaze that seemed to speak louder than words, freezing her into place, unable to look away. And yet, there was no hint of the cold silent glaze that usually covered the King's steady gaze.
A chorus of melodic words slipped form his mouth in that song-like language she could not understand, seeming to float weightlessly in the air, one of his hands gracefully waving in a dismissive gesture, so effortlessly she even wondered if any other elf in the room had even noticed it. But of course they had. Without the King so much as turning to gaze at them, the healers were already leaving the room in complete silence, bowing respectfully as they did so, not one of them questioning their King.
And so, she was left alone, standing nearly petrified by the door, staring at her father. The King silently pushed himself to sit a little straighter, ice blue eyes still fixed on her, soft and deep, seeming able to penetrate into her very spirit, his ever peaceful face as relaxed as always, a glorious statue carved in the finest of marbles. And then, slowly, he motioned for her to approach, as if he could read in her eyes that she would not move on her own. And she did, almost hesitantly she approached the bed, slowly lowering herself to sit at the edge of the soft mattress, all the while very ware of his watchful gaze following her every move.
She could not name what she was feeling. Nerves? Yes, definitely nerves, but something else as well. Content? Relief? She was not sure. It was always like this. That strange tension and uncertainty that surrounded her every time she faced the Elvenking, every time she faced her father. It was strange, almost maddening. She could feel part of her body and mind rejoicing at his presence, feeling safe, feeling at peace, and at the same time, part of her was always conscious and reminded that there were still so many things she did not know about this powerful figure that she called her father.
"How do you feel?" He broke the silence. And there it was, the soft tone that told her that he had let his guard down, that cautious and steady voice that seemed to invite her into opening up, welcoming her. Ice blue eyes remained fixed on hers, was open and welcoming as his voice, patient, one of his hands reaching to brush a strand of her golden hair out of her face.
She nodded her head, still not finding her voice to speak, her mind thinking on so many things she wanted to say and ask that she could not settle on a single one. If he was expecting different king of answer, he did not show it, his lips curving up into a faint smile as he accepted her reply in complete silence. She took a moment to simply look at him, noticing that there was not even the smallest of traces of the fever that had consumed him only hours ago. No. Instead, he looked as powerful as ever, that regal and mighty figure that she had read about in so many books in her childhood.
Then she met his eyes again, staring at her, fixed, holding her gaze steadily, powerfully, and for a second she could not read anything behind those consuming irises.
"What you did was foolish." His tenor voice spoke as steadily as his eyes, a sound so soft and yet so powerful that she felt the urge to look down in shame, suddenly feeling reprimanded, but his gaze would not let her look away. "It was a reckless decision from you part. You are too young to understand the risks of what you did."
"I…" He lifted hand for her to stop, and she paused, waiting in silence for him to continue.
"You could have easily killed me. And worse, you could have lost yourself, you could have been consumed, never able to return. The forest carries a force more powerful than you can imagine, Almarëa. One single wrong step and you would have been lost, same as I was."
This time, she did look down, silently accepting the reprimand. She remembered vividly the way the trees cries had rung in her ears, the way she had felt as their force crushed her, so powerful and overwhelming that she had wanted to scream.
A pale hand gently lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet her father's patient ones, looking at her intently, and swirling with an emotion that was most certainly not anger. Joy? Pride? Gratitude?
"But you did not." He said, eyes never leaving hers, making her unable to look away. "You were impressive. Perfect. You are too young to understand the risk of what you did, and yet you do. You do understand. I have telling myself that you are too young still for this, that you will not be able to remain in control, but I was wrong. And I guess I simply did not want to see that you were not as lost as I thought you were, that you were not that lost little elfling that I left so many years ago in the care of a young woman. I did not want to see that you had indeed grown, that I had missed all of it. And at the same time I was scared, scared of you, of just how powerful how are, afraid that you might not know it, that you might make a mistake and never recover from it. I told myself that you needed me. I just wanted to protect you, I pushed myself into believing that you needed me to protect you, shield you from everything, when instead I should have taught you, I should have guided you. And it turns out it was I who needed you in the end. So thank you. Thank you, Almarëa. Had it not been for you, we would not be having this conversation."
She could not speak, a tight knot constricting her throat, making it hard to breathe. She tried hard to control herself, to keep her composure, but she could already feel the threat the tears starting to accumulate on her green eyes. She did not want to let them fall.
Fortunately for her, the King continued speaking, tenor voice so soft as his ice blue eyes regarded her with deep attention, as endless as an open calmed sea, shimmering like pleading skies, filled with so much pride, so much regret that for a second she thought she would finally loose her composure. "If you would let me, I would like to teach you. You will do greater things than I will ever be able to, but if you would let me, if you would forgive me, I will enjoy teaching you what I know. I was never able to protect you, never even from a bad dream…" Her father trailed off, voice drifting into a distant path she would not follow. Then his piercing eyes turned in her direction once more, consuming gentle blue flames fixed on her. "But you do not need my protection. The only thing I can give you, is my guidance…if you would let me."
She nodded her head, unable to find her voice, her throat too constricted for her to even breathe properly. Ice blue eyes continued to study her, as open as wide calmed seas, swirling over her entire figure, as trying to take in every single detail of her face. Something wet slid down her left cheek, trailing down in a single smooth line, and her hand jumped to her face, wiping it away before it became too obvious. But of course the King had seen it. How could he not when his eyes would not depart form her face?
Strong arms wrapped around her almost immediately, and she crushed into his chest, burying her face from view as she tried to calm her breathing, to ease the tight knot that had settled on her throat. The fine silk of his sleeping tunic brushed against her face, a tender hand slowly travelling down her hair. And there it was again, hat strange sensation, that feeling of utter security of utter content as she lay there, like in child in her father's arms. It once again resulted so new to her, as if her body would never get used to it, even though inside her, her entire mind and spirit reacted to his touch, to his closeness, immediately recognizing the presence of her father, immediately recognizing that she was his own blood.
She did not sob, she did not even fully cry. She just remained there, in the only place she wanted to be at the moment, in the place where she had so rarely been in her entire life, there nestled in the protection of her father's arms. She wanted to simply stay there, feeling safe, feeling at peace, savoring the moments that had been so forcefully stolen from her for her entire childhood.
Much sooner than she had wanted, she felt the gentle touch of slender fingers lifting her chin, forcing her deep green eyes to look straight into his. His other hand slowly brushed her cheek, erasing her trace of the few tears she had shed.
"This is no time to cry." He said, and she let out a faint chuckle, feeling new tears sliding down her face, but his hands caught them before they reached her chin, brushing them away. "Now let me show you something I should have shown you many weeks ago."
She nodded her had, not sure of what it would be, but she did not care. And then, before she could even prepare herself, she felt a gentle pull tugging at her mind, tugging at her spirit, and she followed, letting herself be dragged with impressive ease. It felt strange, and yet natural, easy. There was none of the overwhelming turmoil that she had felt the last time she had entered such a connection, none of the crushing feeling that made her head spin, that made her simply want to act by instinct, pulling at every single force that came in contact with her. No.
She simply allowed herself to be led, feeling the King's presence beside her the entire time as she suddenly felt a very familiar presence, very familiar force, starting to appear all around her, to grip at her, but never pull, never acting harshly. It felt strange, and fascinating at the same time, but there it was, right at her reach, a kind of power that she never thought she would be able to ever witness in such a first hand. She could feel them, hear them: the trees, the forest. Their soothing voices rang in her ears, constructing a tune all too familiar to her, so peaceful, yet so powerful, swirling all around her, stretching so vastly. Their power was undeniable, and even in this overwhelming serenity, she could feel the strength that their force really carried, how frail and insignificant she and the King suddenly were in comparison to them.
And still, what surprised her the most, what felt the most fascinating was that sudden connection that she felt, that sudden feeling of being part of them, of part of their power, their essence travelling through her body, and she instantly knew that it was not her the one sharing the connection with the trees, but the Elvenking. She was merely witnessing it all, part of her interacting with them as well, feeling their power rush through her. They recognized her, but it was the King who shared the deeper bond. She could almost hear it, feel as that powerful force pulled smoothly at the King, as if feeding on his presence, the chorus of voices simply singing in harmony to it. And it was then that she noticed it, so fascinating, so enchanting, that she could hardly believe that it was this same force, the one of the trees, the one of the forest, what had caused her so much pain, so much pressure, only hours ago. She could feel it almost like a tangled web spreading and knitting to every side. Every single tree, where it was, what was around it. It was a net, a net shared by the entire forest of Mirkwood, the song of a thousand voices pointing out what was happening in every single corner of the forest.
And then, as suddenly and easily as she had been pulled, everything vanished, her mind returning to her senses as they pulled back, the elegant room once again appearing before her eyes. She was speechless. She was sure she had never witnessed so much power, such a strong force. It had been fascinating, to feel that force and not be calling upon it, or feel it calling on her, simply standing there, steady, following its natural course.
"Can…"She started, still shocked at what she had been part of, the King's piercing ice blue eyes looking at her patiently. "Can you do…that" she said, not knowing how else to really called what had just happened "…whenever you want? Can you always reach it? Does the forest always let you?"
She had so many new questions, so mane new things she wanted to know, wanted to understand. To her surprise, a faint smile grew on her father's flawless face, and slowly he nodded his head.
"Yes." His musical voice was steady, as patient as his endless eyes. "That way I can verify that everything runs smoothly inside the borders."
"Would you know if something was amiss?" She continued asking. It was as if her mind felt the sudden urge to just burst out question, now that she saw that he was willing to answer.
"Not always, but mostly." He remained patient, always seeming so powerful, so royal. "It has gotten harder with the years, the increasing number of Orcs near the borders and the Spiders roaming the forest make it harder to isolate what really imposes a threat. But yes, I would know it immediately the second any kind of creature steps into my forest, and I would know exactly where it is."
She remained silent, letting everything sink in. Of course she had known the kind of power and protection that the King had over his realm. She had heard about it many times in her childhood, had heard about the mighty Elvenking, had heard about the dreadful forest and the menacing magic that he wielded over it, had heard about how whoever crossed into his land, was at his mercy. And it was all true. Whoever dared to cross the borders of Mirkwood, would face the King. Friend or foe, the King would know.
"Ada…Could I ask you something?" She started again, finding the courage to ask the many things she had for so long wanted to ask, if only to test if she would finally get one answer. She knew this was the time. She was here, alone with the King, with no other eyes to spy on them.
Her father looked at her expectantly, calmly nodding his head. His eyes were unreadable, his face perfectly serene, nothing in his expression changing, and whether or not he had any concerns about what she would ask him, he did not show it. So she continued speaking.
"I came upon a family tree in a book…" She chose her words, not sure of how to ask her question. "My name was there…and so were Arahaelon, Lossenel and Legolas. Tadion's name, however, was not in there."
"I am sure he was in there." The King's voice remained as calmed and soft and before, and yet for a split second, she thought she saw his swirling ice blue eyes harden underneath an frozen shell, a barrier that would not let her get even the slightest of hint on what he was thinking. For a moment she was tempted to simply forget her question, but she could not. So she insisted.
"No, it was not." She spoke slowly. "There was another name instead…one I have never even heard before."
"What did it say?" The King asked, as serene as before, and yet she had the feeling that very well knew the answer to his own question. He knew.
"Anarorion Thranduilion." The name left her mouth with a strange sensation, sounding rare to her ears, a name that she could not place.
"That is Tadion's name." Her father answered, always so calmed, so perfectly composed, and yet she knew that this peaceful shell was just that, a mask, a stone mask that prevented her from getting an insight into any of his thoughts. His answer did not surprise her. It seemed shocking, bewildering, but it was the answered she had assumed. And still she did not understand.
"His name is Tadion." She contradicted, unwilling to believe the truth. Did she really not know her own brother's name?
"No." Ice blue eyes looked at her patiently, guarded. "Tadion is the name he goes by. His name, the one I gave him on his birth, is Anarorion."
"But he has never mentioned that name before." She continued, not sure if she was merely talking to herself now. And then another thing crossed her mind, the thing that made it all the more puzzling, and she turned her gaze to look straight into his striking eyes.
"But you call him Tadion. You do not call him by the name you gave him." She pointed out. The King always called his children by their full names. She had never heard him call Arahaelon Ar, or Lossenel Lossie, or even call her Rëa. He always used their given names. And yet he always called Tadion that…Tadion.
Her father remained silent, and so she spoke again, feeing that if she did not, he would not say anything else. "What is so wrong about the name Anarorion."
"There is nothing wrong with that name." The King spoke, and she had the impression that he was once again choosing his words carefully. His eyes were once again iced over, impenetrable, not displaying the slightest hint of emotion. "It is a great name. It means sunrise."
"Why does not like being called sunrise?" She asked before she could stop herself. She did not understand, it did not make sense. It seemed like such a beautiful name. Sunrise. The start of a new day, golden light after a dark night.
"I do not think he does not like the name." The King continued, his voice as cautious as his eyes. "It is I who cannot call him by his rightful name."
That came as a surprise. Form all the possible answers that one was the one that she had never even imagine she would get.
"Why?" she pushed, and for a second she thought that he would stop her, order her to finish her incessant questions. "Why would you not like such a beautiful name?"
"Because before every sunrise, there is a sunset, and there is a night." Was his explanation, and she felt like yelling in frustration. The King had looked away, his iced gaze now lost into a distant nothingness, as steely and impenetrable as before. His marble face remained perfectly composed, a calmed stone mask, as royal and mighty as only he could be, a figure worthy of sitting on a throne.
"You speak in riddles." She added in frustration, almost anger, but he did not turn to meet her gaze, once again an imposing, magnificent King.
"Almarëa, that is enough." There it was, the line that she had seen would certainly come, she had felt it approach. And yet, when it reached her ears it only managed to infuriate her. Why was it always like this? Why was she never granted an answer for anything?
"You never answer anything!" She accused, unable to hold her tongue before she had spoken. She knew that perhaps she should not have said that. He was her father, but he was her King, and either way she should not be disrespectful of any of his commands. But she had had enough, she would pay the consequences of her outburst if she must. "You never do. None of you do. No one ever explains anything to me!"
"And what do you want me to explain?" He said in return, his voice as hard as his iced eyes, still not turning to meet hers, still the heavenly marble statue of a cold and mighty King.
"Anything." She replied, trying her best to ignore the freezing ice in his tone. "Everything. Starting by why do you not call Tadion by his name?"
"That is irrelevant." He said, his voice dripping ice, and she only felt her blood starting to boil in return.
"Then why would you not tell me!"
"Because you do not want to know!" He hissed, the sound making her immediately petrify, ice blue eyes suddenly bursting in her direction, freezing in place. And she saw it, even if it was only there for a fragment of a second. She saw the deep cold fear in his piercing irises. Fear and pain. Both feelings so intense that for a second she even forgot what her question had been, petrified in her place. And yet, not even a second after, the iced barrier that seemed to seal his eyes away was once again in place, making her doubt if what she had seen had been merely her imagination.
"Yes, I do." She was surprised that she even her voice, for she certainly could not move. And then, out of all the things she had been expecting, the King's eyes fell closed, a new expression , one that she could not really read crossing his face. When he spoke again, all of the ice had disappeared from his voice, the sound seeming pained instead.
"Are you sure you want to know?" He questioned her, and for a second, only by the pained tortured sound of his voice, she was tempted to say no.
"Yes."
"Very well." He said, the eyes that had been looking at her so intently moments before, now still closed from her view. "It is by you choice." He warned.
And then, before she could even ponder on what his warning meant, the room around her disappeared, and she felt herself begin dragged upon a path she had travelled before, new images flashing before her eyes, relieving a memory that did not belong to her.
The purple reflects of twilight shimmered on the polished marble floor of the elegant antechamber where the King paced, deep silver robes trailing behind his majestic figure. It was evident that he was nervous. She could see it in the way in which his hard eyes kept flickering every two seconds in the direction of the grand door that she knew led to his own bedchamber, as if suddenly expecting someone to appear through it at any moment.
Only one other figure occupied the space, sitting quietly on the long couch by the grand fireplace. Long blond hair hung down back, dark blue eyes gleaming patiently upon a face that she had not seen in a very long time, studying his King closely.
A pain filled scream tore through the air, making her wish she had not heard it, and instantly she saw the King stop his pacing, hands anxiously flying to his face, covering his eyes or tangling in his long silvery hair.
"My Lord, calm down." Doronor's patient voice broke the tense silence, the King's ice blue eyes suddenly darting in his direction, throwing his advisor a look that would make any creature tremble in fear. The advisor, however, did not react to it in the slightest, simply holding his hands up in silent apology. "It was only a suggestion."
The Elvenking opened his mouth as if to speak, but at that precise moment, another tormented scream filled the air, the King's hands once again flying to cover his face, as if trying to escape the torturing sound.
"Thranduil, everything is fine." Doronor said again in his patient calming voice, managing to steal his King's attention. "You have been through this two times already. You know how it goes."
If the advisor's words had been intended calm the Elvenking he had little success, for the King continued to pace back and forth the space, gripping at his head or clasping his whenever a scream echoed through the sleeping air.
"Thranduil." Doronor had stood u, his hands pressing firmly to the King's arms, stopping him in his pacing. "Calm down. Everything will be fine."
"It is not your wife the one screaming." The King snapped, his patience seeming to be far gone, eyes burning like searing blue flames. And yet, all of his anger was quickly turned into anxiety as yet another scream tore through the air.
And then, it stopped. The torturing screams died in the stilling air, leaving behind a dreadful calmness as the full darkness of the silent night swept through the forest outside. She could see the King standing still, paralyzed, anxious and scared eyes piercing through the grand wooden door, as if wishing it to open as the seconds stretched cruelly. But no sound came, silence hanging heavier than ever before.
She could see the cold fear starting to creep inside her father's ice blue eyes, a fear so intense, so raw that made her want to look away, to return form this memory and never find out what happened next. Doronor was silent too, his previous calmness slowly starting to vanish, worry making itself known on his face as he stared at his King.
"No cry." The hollow words slipped out of the King's mouth like a dying ghost, dancing coldly in the vacant air, but no other sound came, the tortured screamed long ago ended. "Why is there no cry?"
And then, before the blond advisor could say or do anything, the King was rushing forward, as his actions were led by a fear deeper than she could ever imagine, pushing the heavenly carved wooden doors abruptly as he hurried inside the large bedchamber.
"My Lord!" She could hear Doronor calling form behind, but the King did not seem to have noticed, his eyes desperately searching inside the room, ignoring all the healers that rushed through the room, calling for him to calm down. She could see the despair in his eyes, the fear that seemed to consume his every thought. The King's eyes flew towards the overly large bed, his feet rushing to the figure that lay tiredly against the many pillows.
"Alarya!" The Elvenking breathed out as he reached the bed, his hand immediately moving to grasp the Queen's trembling fingers. Her mother looked exhausted beyond measure, her breathing coming out heavily as her body sunk deeply onto the feathered pillows, a maid dabbing a cool wet cloth to her face and neck. Her father's free hand traveled down the Queen's cheek, his lips pressing lightly to her forehead, not seeming to care about the thin layer of sweat that covered her porcelain skin.
"Thran…"The Queen whispered, nearly out of breath form exhaustion. Her green eyes searched for her husband's almost desperately, the same fear plaguing the otherwise enchanting gaze, burning with the same urgency she could see reflected in the King's blue eyes. "Thran…our son…our son…"
"It is a boy?" The words sounded shaky as her father spoke, and the Queen simply nodded.
She did not seem able to produce a phrase longer than a couple of words, her eyes closing tiredly as the maids continued to press the cool wet cloth over her face, adjusting the covers over her body as if to let her rest more comfortably.
The King's eyes turned in another direction, that overwhelming fright, that consuming worry and urgency still present in his eyes, pressing one more kiss upon his wife's forehead before rushing to were a group of healers remained clustered on a corner, hands hovering frantically around a tiny bundle.
"He is not breathing…" She heard one of the healer's saying frantically, the King seeming to be paralyzed in his place, and never before had she seen such despair in a face.
"No." The King whispered, so faintly it was almost impossible to hear it. She could already see a bunch of healers trying to get him to calm down, trying to guide their King to a nearby chair, but he pushed them away, eyes fixed on the bundle still held in the healer's frantic arms. "Valar, please, no."
Long seconds stretch cruelly, the tension and urgency in the room only growing, and then a sound came. A cry. Or something that attempted to sound like a cry but was far form it. It sounded weak, almost choked, as if requiring an enormous effort. And still, she saw the King's frightened eyes fill with hope for a second, the worry never leaving the iced irises. Every second seemed to be an unimaginable, slow and painful torture for the Elvenking.
Another cry. This time as weak and difficult as the first one. The child was breathing, but seemed to struggling for every breath. And then slowly, almost overly cautiously, the healer picked up the tiny bundle wrapped in fine silk blankets into his arms, slowly turning to face his King. Her father's eyes burned over the healer, as if silently pleading, so desperate that it hurt to look, and slowly, as if regretting it more than anything in the world, the healer shook his head.
And just like that she saw another kind of emotion strike the King's ice blue eyes, harder than anything she had ever seen, the pain and devastation in his face making her wish she could erase it form her mind.
Gently, as if he was carrying gold, the healer placed the bundle in his King's arms, the tiny elfling still struggling to take each breath, weak and choked cries leaving his little mouth every once in a while.
"I am sorry, your Majesty." The healer's voice spoke painfully, but the King did not turn to look at him, his eyes glued to the bundle newly placed in his arms. "The Prince is not breathing properly. Unless by a miracle, he will not see the sunrise today."
The King did not respond, his eyes not capable of leaving the tiny face of the seemingly sleeping child. And yet, the utter pain, the tortured gleam in his devastated eyes, shimmering in silver with unshed tears, told her that he had heard every single word the healer had said. Slowly and in complete silence, she could see the healers leaving the room, a couple of them seeming ready to wait at the antechamber, leaving the father alone with his son, the Queen quietly sleeping in the bed.
She could feel her heart constricting painfully at the scene she could see unfolding right before her eyes. The King's finger trailed gently over a little rosy cheek, barely even touching the skin, as if afraid to damage such a precious thing, his eyes studying the little face as if desperately trying to memorize it, as if wishing to stop time right there and then.
Another weak cry abandoned the baby's mouth, the King's face contorting in pain at the sound, his hands placing the fine silk blankets closer to the barely moving child. Slowly, her father walked to a wooden rocking chair placing in one corner of the grand room, by one of the largest windows, no doubt being placed there for the Queen. All the while, his eyes never left the baby's tiny face, his arms holding to the bundle as if it was the most precious thing in Arda, the most precious thing that would be ripped from his grasp only in a matter of hours.
A tiny fist wound free from the bundle of blankets, swinging uncoordinatedly in the air, and the saw the King press his fingers to it, the little set of fingers curling tightly around the King's larger index one, as if holding for dear life. She wished she could stop seeing it. It hurt to see, it hurt so much that she was barely even aware that the King's figure had started muttering something over and over again, so low that she could not catch a single one of his words, and still she knew what they were. The King was praying, and by the look in his eyes, in his tormented face, he was praying desperately.
She did not know how long it had passed, how much time had the King remained sitting there, rocking slowly as he carried the tiny bundle in his arms, muttering lowly over and over again. Every so often his eyes would desperately turn towards the window, painfully looking outside, as if willing for the night to never end, for the hours to slow, for the sunrise to never come. But eventually it did, as it always does. And yet, the King was still there, not one second letting his eyes depart from the child still resting in his arms, still struggling to take in every single breath. The despair in the King's eyes was heart shattering, looking at his son as if knowing that at any second he would slip away from him, hearing each struggled breath as if it would be the last.
And then, the child took another struggled breath, but this time the weak cry did not follow. No. Instead, the child let out a strong, heart-filled cry, just like the one of any healthy newborn. And overwhelming combination of surprise and relief filled the King's despaired eyes, his face suddenly lighting with a joy larger than she could even start to comprehend as the child let out another strong cry, and then another, crying so loudly that the healers waiting outside the room rushed in. And yet, with every cry the King's smile grew larger, his eyes still fixed on the precious bundle he carried, looking at it as if he would never let go, eyes filled with so much joy, so much love.
"It is a miracle." One of the healers breathed out, the joy and surprise evident in his voice, the Elvenking turning to look at him for a brief second before his eyes automatically turned again to gaze at his precious son, his smile ever present in his face.
"Meleth.." A weary voice came form the large bed, the King reacting to it immediately, eyes darting to look at his wife, the child's strong cries having obviously woken her. The Queen's green eyes flew to the bundle crying loudly on the King's arms, emerald irises instantly filling with tears as her husband approached her, her smile lightening her entire face.
"Our son." The King said gently, so much joy, pride and love dripping form his voice that it resulted impossible no to smile at the sound. Gently, she saw him place the now squirming bundle upon the Queen's expecting arms, lowering himself to sit at the edge of the bed, eyes darting form his wife to his newborn son. The Queen's green eyes remained focused on the child, tears now streaming down her face, the King wrapping one of his arms over her shoulders.
"How will you name him?" Her mother spoke in between her tears, shimmering eyes turning to look at her husband, who placed a tender kiss on her cheek before answering.
The King's eyes turned to gaze outside the window, where the new sun was rising in the horizon, its warm pink and golden rays washing away the memories of the deep dark night, bringing with it the promise of a new day.
"Anarorion." He said finally, his lips turning into a wide smile as he pronounced the name, his eyes once again returning to gaze at the crying child in his mother's arms.
"Sunrise." The Queen said, her smile mirroring that of her husband's, emerald eyes never looking away from the child.
"Ada! Nana!"
The King turned his head, the bright smile still present on his lips as Arahaelon and Lossenel rushed into the room. Wherever they had been waiting, they had surely been informed of the good news by now. She could see their eyes also darting to look at the newborn elfling, wide smiles on both of his faces.
She could distantly hear voices rushing outside the door, the healers and guards no doubt already letting the entire Palace know of the birth of their Prince. It would be a day filled with grand celebrations.
"I told you it would be a boy!" Lossenel commented, turning to smirk at the Crown Prince, who did not look the slightest disappointed to have lost whoever bet they had had.
"What is his name, Ada?" Arahaelon asked, bright emerald eyes turning to look at his father, illuminating a face that look just like it always had to her. However old he was, he had already reached his majority.
"Anarorion." The King repeated, once again smiling at the name, one of his hands gently stroking the Queen's long golden hair as he once again turned to gaze at his second son.
And then, unexpectedly, so faint she barely even noticed it, the King tensed, a new glazed mask covering his ice blue eyes, and she did not need an explanation to know what it was. It was a vision.
And sure enough, not even a second after she had noticed the change in her father's expression, she felt the images in front of her vanishing as she too was pulled to partake in the vision, a new set of images taking form before her.
She was in a large room, elegantly dressed elves filling every side of a long central aisle, all of them dressed in their finest of robes, the ladies seeming to drip jewels. Tall pillars stretched every so often, branching out like golden trees to support the ceiling, intertwining with each other high above her head. At the end of the empty long aisle were a set of intricate steps, carved with a master hand in the fine hard stone, many engravings adorning the walls as they led up to a high platform upon which sat a majestic tall throne.
There were only two figures before the throne. One dressed in rich red robes, long silvery hair tied in many intricate braids, standing tall and royally before the second figure. She recognized it immediately. It was the Elvenking, her father, and yet somehow he looked different, as if for the first time the full weight of the long years of his life had fallen over his shoulders. There was no crown on his head. No. The fine crown of Mirkwood was held securely in his hands as he placed it neatly upon the golden head of the tall figure kneeling before him. Elegant silver robes, in the finest of silks, blanketed over the kneeling figure, embroidered with thousands of pearls and other jewels in intricate patterns.
The crown touched the kneeling figure's head, and the elf turned his face to look up at the former King of Mirkwood, and it was then that she felt time pause, her heart stopping. Instead of the pair of impenetrable emerald eyes she had been expecting to see, a very familiar pair of clear blue eyes, identical to those of her father looked up at the Elvenking, suddenly looking so much stronger, so much powerful, and still, that playful carefree smirk was still there, swirling in the warm depth s of his confident gaze, the gaze of a King.
And then, a voice from the bottom of the platform announced to the crown: "Hail to King Anarorion Thranduilion of the Greenwood!"
And the crowd cheered. And the former King smiled sadly. And Tadion stood up, the crown now sitting regally atop his head, looking as if it had always belonged there. And the truth of what she was seeing fell upon her shoulders like a shattering weight. Arahaelon was not there. The Crown Prince, would never be crowned King. And she knew that there was only one thing that could prevent Arahaelon from claiming the title that was rightfully his, from stepping in accepting his duties. Arahaelon, her older brother, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, would not live to see his own coronation…
So here is chapter 37! I tried my best to make a quick update! I hope you enjoy it! And please let me know what you think!
Again, thank you so so much to those of you who reviewed my previous chapter! I adored all of your comments! Martine9295, AmazingWriter123, Mary Elrondile, The Lead Mare, Tintcalad, SimplySupreme, mMy, LadyThunderstorm, DeLacus, Elves are awesome, and my guest reviewer! This chapter is for all of you!
The Lead Mare: Hi there! Of course you can use Arahaelon, Lossenel and Tadion in whichever way you want! I'm honored that you would want to use my characters. I have created them for you to enjoy them and their personality! I hope they give you as much a fun experience as they have given me!
Love,
Elena