The hoot of an owl was announcing the night. Even in the palace the eerie sound could be heard. And that distant noise was the reason why Thranduil woke up. In his dream it had sounded like a scream but when he opened his eyes, he realized that it had been the birds call and nothing more. Only a few candles were burning in his chamber. He couldn't see that clear in the twilight but there was a dark-haired elf sitting on a chair right next to his bed and a blonde one was resting his head on the mattress. They were both asleep. Thranduil moved as quietly as he could, he did not want to wake them up. Why were they even in his private chamber? He couldn't recall them entering. Maybe they checked on him, because of what had happened yesterday. As he slowly walked through the remnants of his room, he tried to fight it, tried not to think about it, but in vain. The memories forced their way back into his head. They were too fresh, too vivid. Death!
His wife had died yesterday and he couldn't handle it. Of course in front of his subjects he had to pretend, had to show strength. To break down in front of them would have been his own personal nightmare. So he had pulled himself together until he was alone and in his room. And the now visible destruction in here was the result of him giving into as much pain as he could allow himself. But it hadn't helped at all. The excruciating feeling was still there.
How could he possibly go on without his wife? How could he raise their son alone?
Oh, how many times had he pictured their future! So full of joy, so wonderful, so bright...and now...there was only darkness left. It filled out his head, weighed him down and made it hard to breathe. Why? Why had this happened? An elfs life is supposed to be long. It shouldn't end so soon, so meaningless. It was not fair!
Thranduil looked into one of the shattered mirrors on the wall and frowned. His hideous reflection stared back at him. Reminding him of his distortion. And suddenly, he felt tired, so...so tired. He had seen so much, gone through so much, maybe it was time. Time to give in. Death had been calling him ever since he'd fought the great dragons of the north. He had resisted the sweet and alluring call up to now. But why fight anymore? Maybe he should just follow his wife to wherever she might be now.
Thranduil picked up one of the longest glass shards that where lying on the floor just beneath the mirror. He turned it around in his hand, feeling the texture, the sharpness ...
Tears were rolling down his cheeks, the ones on the left side stung like needles. He wasn't used to crying. He had forgotten how much it hurt, when the salty tears came out of his damaged and blind eye and rolled into his wound. He ignored it. Soon, nothing would hurt him anymore. No wound, no word, no thought. It would all be over tonight. Thranduil closed his eyes.
Now!
He pushed the glass shard deep into his chest, aiming for the heart. The sharp pain consumed him and banned every other thought from his mind. It filled him out completely. There was nothing but this agonizing pain. But he had to keep going. He hadn't reached the heart yet. Soon though, he could feel it. He had to gather his last strength, but he knew he could do it. Just a bit further, one last push...
"Ada! No!"
Thranduil winced and turned his head. The blonde elf came running towards him.