Chapter Two

Moonlight bathed the gardens of Lothlorien, and the trees were glowing with the miracles that hung from their branches. Daylight had long passed, yet a certain Elf still wandered these gardens at nightfall. The light resting on the tops of the trees would guide him. And so he was not afraid.

Thranduil was searching for the Tree of Green Leaves; he had come upon it before, and he was certain he would find it again. The Tree of Green Leaves was quite simple to spot, as it reminded one of an everlasting summer. Its trunk was wide and thick with white bark, the crevices under which living things were teeming ceaselessly- Thranduil remembered. From its firm, aged trunk sprouted hundreds of sturdy branches with the greenest of leaves attached to them. It was a bewitched tree; its roots absorbed water from the river that flowed underneath it, and some said that this water is what enabled the tree to bear life- new generations of Elves.

As Thranduil promenaded on light feet, he came to a clearing in the gardens. There, in the distance, he could make out a majestic tree, which was indubitably the one that bore a precious fruit. He beamed at the twinkling stars nestling on top of the tree- Elves in their first stage of life in this world. Ambling as quickly as possible, only one thought pervaded his mind: he was going to visit his son again.

Yes, a son! This time he was surer than he had ever been that he would have a male heir; every time he thought of the child to come he always envisioned a son. Every day he was closer to holding this son, a being that he and his wife had created through their love. Thranduil, having come under the tree, saw the star immediately- he grinned at the maturing young Elf, already beginning to take visible form. He gazed at it in awe; the radiance was enough to blind the eyes of a Man. It wouldn't be long now, before he could hold his child, for whom he already felt a burst of love.

"How you've grown, little one!" Thranduil exclaimed.

As if in answer, the child seemed to move slightly. And it still possessed those two, emerald-green eyes, glowing ever so strongly in the darkness. Blinking now, it seemed to examine Thranduil, this stranger which it recognized from previous nights. Who could this possibly be?

Before Thranduil could move another muscle, he was alarmed by the sound of horns.

What... Thranduil muttered under his breath, but he couldn't hear himself say anything. A wave of panic came over him- what was happening? The child- where was his child?

Frantically, he looked back and searched the star in which his child had been enveloped. Where there had been a beautiful garden, there was nothing but mounds of earth. The Tree-the star-his child, and all the other growing Elves- were nowhere to be seen. An angry cry surely escaped his mouth then, but all other sound was overridden by the sound of horns. As if Thranduil's heart wasn't heavy enough, more weight was thrown onto it as he witnessed the transition of the land in front of him.

Peaceful fields were replaced by innumerable armies, each marching in a monotonous manner. Their war-cries drowned out the sounds of all other existence. Accompanied by nameless, ugly beasts, they all shouted orders in an incomprehensible language vulgar enough for one's ears to bleed. All Thranduil could now see was the gray sky looming above him like the arrival of doomsday, and he heard the beginnings of conflict.

It was all too much for him. He had closed his eyes just in time, in time to avoid the agonizing sights of soldiers dying beside their horses. He smelled the stench of blood, of only death, and he wondered if the world was going to end. The angry voices of others seemed to wipe out all that was good and pure in the world, and Thranduil dared not see it all.

This is a nightmare, he thought. But would it ever end? For what seemed like an entire eon, the fight continued. Perhaps he didn't realize when it had ended. His ears had been poisoned with so much grief that when there was silence, he heard a strange ringing. Eventually, he recognized the cry of eagles, who had come to extinguish all madness.

And then, when he thought he couldn't take it any longer, when all his hopes had gone along with the ashes in the wind, the eagles began to sing the most angelic of songs. He knew it was safe to open his eyes again.

Much to his relief, the eagles had arrived! They were summoning innocence and goodness to return. From their beaks, tiny trinkets came forth. From afar, Thranduil could only see the shimmer of them all, something golden, something silver. At last, they dropped some emeralds in the King's lap.

Thranduil hadn't thanked the eagles when everything began to fade. The field, the dead bodies, the reminder of evil... all these things seemed as if it was being sucked away by the wind, the wind that frolicked endlessly among the blades of grass...

"Thranduil, is something wrong?" Next to him came a familiar voice.

It was to this soothing voice Thranduil awoke, his entire body nearly drenched in sweat. It wasn't until his wife kissed him and sang to him that he finally began to relax. He had been trembling out of control, weeping bitterly in his wife's arms. She hushed him, assuring him that it was all a terrible dream.

"The Tree...it was gone...our child...our child..." Thranduil sputtered nonsense. The Queen smiled. "If anything were to go wrong with our child, I would feel it. It is still resting peacefully, Thranduil. Must you still wallow in your past?"

"I don't understand, Celabeth," he said, when he managed to calm down.

"You had this dream, because your past is haunting you. You are afraid that our child may acquire your qualities, what you don't like about yourself. You fear that he might desert his friends, not come to their aid when their need is dire. But tell me, did you flee in your dream?"

Thranduil lay deep in thought. He at last shook his head. "No," he replied. "I don't recall running away."

"Thranduil!" Queen Celabeth wiped her husband's tears. "It was not you in the dream. You weren't reliving your past. Rather, I'd think that our son-" she emphasized the word- "was the one you saw. He may as well be the spitting image of you, yes, but that doesn't mean that he cannot be his own self. You must remember that, Thranduil."

"Oh, Celabeth..." The King was at a loss for words. "I...I think I already love him too much," he commented with a chuckle. "I wonder if he'll like archery as much as I do?"

"I don't even slightly doubt it," Celabeth replied, laughing as well. "Soon I'll have two Thranduils running around, two restless ones to look after!"

"What! Am I too much for you?" The King asked with sarcasm.

"But you're never more than I can handle," she laughed again. "But with our child, it may be harder. Our child will be a strong one, if he's to take after his father."

Thranduil kissed his wife and said: "But he must be even-tempered, like you. That way we'll both get some sleep at night."

"Yes, Thranduil. Let's get some sleep while we still can, shall we? You look exhausted."

"I won't move my lids before you tell me something," he said with a hint of mockery.

"I love you, Thranduil of Mirkwood," said Celabeth, quite sleepily. She was falling asleep.

Thranduil whispered, yet said it loud enough so that she could hear: "And I love you, Celabeth of Rivendell. I love you more and more every day."

For a moment, Thranduil remembered fondly of the day when he had first met Celabeth. Since that day, he had only felt an undying passion for her.

And so the both of them let sleep take them into the land of dreams; for Thranduil, a land of sweeter dreams.