The Woodland Realm

Chapter V – A Last Alliance

Year 3429 of the Second Age

"And the shrew decided that to bury and tend to the nut, he would be serving his home and forest for many ages to come, for there it would grow into a great tree and shed many more for all and not just the one" Alarielle read gently, her soothing voice easing little Elleina into a restful mood, her little eyelids growing heavy with each word spoken. Alarielle closed the book that Thranduil had given to her and placed it carefully on the elflings bedside cabinet before gently and lovingly stroking the little girl's hair. "Do you understand the meaning of the book Nesseldë?" asked the older elleth, the little child looking back at her with a grin.

"The importance looking beyond yourself and seeing how one small action can affect the many?" Elleina replied sleepily as she gathered a corner of her blanket in her arms, causing Alarielle to smile fondly at the action.

"That is right little one, you rest your weary head now, sleep" Alarielle spoke and leaned down to kiss the little elleth on the head and tucked her in gently. She blew out the candle and turned to walk towards the door of the bedchamber when Elleina's little voice broke the silent darkness in the room.

"Do you think prince Thranduil will come and visit us again?" she asked expectantly. Alarielle felt a slight knot form in her stomach at the mention of the elven prince, a similar feeling at occurred when their fingers brushed as he had given her the book not so long ago. In truth she did not know if they would see the prince again, she tried to push away the sense of disappointment that washed over her at the thought of him not returning, how odd? She thought to herself. She then remembered his words to Elleina, that he would ask for her thoughts about the book, her smile grew a little at the memory of his dealing with the little girl.

"The prince said he wanted to know your thoughts on the book, I am sure he will visit you soon enough" she replied gently, and reached for the door handle before casting one last loving gaze at the little girl who watched her, one of her little hands waving at her, which the elleth returned before slipping out of the room. She leaned against the door for a moment and turned her mind to the prince, her heart fluttered a little, she found herself wanting him to come and see Elleina again, and not solely just for the child's benefit.

She pushed herself from the door and made her way into the centre of her chambers, Elleina was staying with her for a few nights and as such king Oropher had given her quarters with a second bed chamber. The accommodation was beautiful, it hosted a main living area with plush chairs and an assortment of homely furniture, a small kitchen area was tucked away in the corner with a small stove though most elves of the elvenking's halls ate together in the food hall. Finally lay Alarielle's bedchamber which was opposite Elleina's, she was incredibly grateful to the king for granting her such a home, despite her initial protests.

With her thoughts briefly settling on the king's generous nature, her mind turned to the prince and that little knot in her stomach formed again whilst her chest fluttered just a little, again. What was wrong with her? She thought to herself, perhaps it was just his kindest that caught her off guard? No, the king himself was kind, it would stand to reason that his son was the same. He is handsome, her mind interjected. And so are many other ellon, it doesn't mean my stomach knots, chest flutters and you express a desire to see him? He reasoned to herself, perhaps she was going mad, conversing with herself late into the evening. She had many admiring ellon whom had tried to woo her over the centuries, yet she felt drawn to none of them, in fact she had felt no attraction to any in her long-lived life. Until now of course, Alarielle pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to drown out her minds insufferable input and sat down on one of the plush armchairs by the fireplace, having collected a book she had been working through from the bookshelf.

She enjoyed her reading as most elves did, for with their long and endless lives the written word was unending for them. Her father was an avid writer and her mother a skilful jeweller, she smiled fondly at the memory of her ada and nanath, both of whom had sailed to Aman and its golden shores long ago. They had bidden her to follow, yet she felt no desire to leave Middle Earth just yet, she knew one day that she would sail, as would all the elves, but she felt she had many years left under the canopy of the Greenwood. Alarielle and her parents had dwelled on the borders of Doraith until Elu Thingol was slain, it was then her parents sought to leave these shores, but first insisted on finding their daughter a safe place in which to live. They had travelled over the mountains and discovered a small band over Silvan folk in the forests of what was now known as Lorinand, whom in turn settled in the southern forests of the Greenwood, before settling in the north at Oropher's behest.

She found herself becoming frustrated as she had to re-read the first sentence of her book for the fifth time, placing the book down she brought her hands to her face and gently massaged just above her brows. For Eru's sake she muttered internally, she could not remove the image of Prince Thranduil from her mind and could not ignore that her fea had acted like a tiny flame had been lit beneath it. Perhaps some rest is in order she mused to herself before abandoning her book and rising from her chair, blowing out any of the remaining candle flames in the living chamber. Perhaps her mind would settle on something else, though she enjoyed the memory of his own seemingly nervous behaviour, causing her stomach yet another twist, Alarielle, for goodness sake!

…

"A grand alliance you say? Of elves and men, even the dwarves of Moria. Isn't that a fanciful tale indeed" resonated the sound of Oropher's voice about the vast cavern, his faint footsteps following as the great elvenking circled Lord Elrond with calculating steps. Thranduil watched on silently from the foot of his fathers' throne, he too did not favour the Noldor due to their lots part in the second sacking of Doraith and the Kinslaying in Aqualonde in Aman, yet his father's mistrust of the blessed of Vanilor, the high elves as they would refer to themselves, was legendary. Lord Elrond too his credit and Thranduil's admiration, stood calm and even under the mistrustful tone of the great sindar king.

"Great king Oropher, I assure you what I speak is truth. My king Gil-Galad has formed an alliance with Elendil the Tall. Imladris's forges work night and day as we speak to prepare for this war" Elrond spoke with urgency to the regal and noble king as the latter came to stand in front of him. "If we do not act, Sauron will sweep across Middle Earth in a tide of death should we not succeed"

"What of Amdir? Have you spoken to the king of Lorinand?" Oropher questioned, Elrond seemingly dejected further by the question from the king.

"King Amdir will only agree to lend his support if the Woodland Realm does so as well" the Noldor replied in a low tone. Thranduil felt a small amount of pity for the elf, he knew his father could be stubborn, his mother often cited that he could often be worse than his father on some issues. The high-king, Gil-Galad was the son of Fingon of the line Fingolfin, perhaps one of the few Noldor that Thranduil truly admired after his mother had read him the stories of the great king. Challenging Morgoth the enemy to a duel and even wounding the ancient valar so that he walked with a limp then onwards. Gil-Galad's line had nothing to do with the sons of Feanor or their oath, in fact he had led a host to try and stop the third kin-slaying at the havens.

"Then I would not be inclined to grace you with an answer until I have spoken with him. When does this might host begin the march south?" Oropher pried further.

"We will be supplying ourselves for the next three years, once the armies of Gil-Galad and Elendil are raised we will march via the southern pass that lies beside Fangorn forest" Oropher stood still for a moment, Thranduil observed his fathers power play in effect, he could not simply just accept this treaty. No, Oropher would have to ensure that in exchange for their warriors that he had some say on the campaign itself. Thranduil however did not focus on this father's next words, his mind was drawn to the fact that his right hand was shaking violently, having been trembling for a good hour before, thankfully the robes we wore meant he could hide such an ailment.

War. Death. Steel. Dragonfire.

He stood firm, despite the prickling sensation that ran down the left side of his face, he was the prince of the woodland realm, son of the king. He would not allow this, thing, to rule him. He slid his eyes closed as he tried to master the shakes that began to take hold of his right arm, any longer and he could not be able to conceal his reaction. A small state of panic shot through him, the throne room was full of councillors and guards, it would not be something that could be kept quiet if his alignment struck now. His plight had not gone unnoticed however.

"I think that we should all adjourn and think on what has been said" Came the soft voice of Lalaith as she descended the stairs from her own throne, her sapphire blue gown trailing behind her as she did so. Thranduil watched as his father turned to face her in surprise, he could not see his mother's face but whatever expression she held must have been unavertable, for his father did not protest.

"I believe my beloved wife and queen is correct. Guards, please escort Lord Elrond to the quest chambers and to the healing wing" Oropher started and turned to the elf-lord. "I suppose you will want to be seeing your wounded warriors, they are well which should bring you comfort" Oropher said in a quieter tone as the throne room came alive with movement, his guards coming to stand either side of him, only their eyes visible through the slits in their face-guard.

"Thank you elvenking, I am in your debt for your aid and their care" Elrond nodded gracefully, no hint of an undertone to his voice. Oropher nodded and gestured for his guards to lead him on. It was not long before the only elves remaining in the vast cavernous room were Oropher, Lalaith and Thranduil, it was the queen whom moved with fluid grace to her son, her eyes wide with concern as she grasped his right arm and quickly released it when she felt the trembling.

"Mother" Thranduil began, his voice shuddering with the effort to contain his condition, he did not feel well, not at all.

"Come ionneg, I will not suffer protests" she cut him off, taking his left arm within her own and lead him from the room, though not before casting a worried but scathing look at her husband, she had only ever looked at him like that once before. Thranduil felt his mother's attention fall back to him as she led him to the royal chambers, which were thankfully not far from the throne room, her words were of love and kindness as she tried to keep him together. Once in the safety of her chambers, Lalaith led her son to her bed and guided him to a sitting position and knelt before him, the worry in her eyes betraying the calm lilt of her voice. His vision had begun to blur, like it always did, battle brought out the memories, the oh so painful memories.

"Push them back!" Thranduil yelled as he and his warriors held their shield line and slaughtered the orcs in droves. The final battle of the War of Wrath was brutal, Finarfin led the host of the Valar against the mortal and lesser creatures of Morgoth, whilst the Valar themselves fought the corrupted angel himself. Thranduil was tasked with holding the right flank whilst the greatest of the elven heroes faced down the darkest of the enemy's servants, as the balrogs and trolls of Morgoth came with the black tide of orcs, throwing themselves at the shining still of the Eldar host. Thranduil, the young elven noble elf lord swung his sword, a gift from Elu Thingol in his youth from side to side, laying wanton death to the orcs. The battle was turning, the forces of Morgoth were nearly spent, and with each step there was hope.

However, seeing that his defeat was assured, Morgoth unleashed his most terrible weapon on the host. It began as a deafening storm of thunder and flame, and from the shadows of the towers of Thangorodrim they came. Terrible winged beasts that were as dark as night and spewed flames that were uncaring of what they burnt. The host of the Valar cried in collective terror at this new threat, but something far worse stirred from the mountain fortress of Angband, its deafening roar sending even the fire drakes scattering. With dread did Thranduil watch as a great black mass hurled itself from the fortress, its size so immense that it bolted out the sun.

"I am Ancalagon the Black!" the giant dragon roared into the air and then launched into the air. "My master biddens me to slaughter you all, and he shall have his wish, for you all shall burn!" there weapons did nothing, arrows, bolts, spears and swords glanced of the beasts scales as the dragons pushed the mighty host back. Thranduil called to his warriors who had slowly begun to fall back, not willing to show the enemy their backs. From the blackened skies that darkened with smoke, came a blur of gold and crimson which smashed into the ground that Thranduil and his elves steadily fell back from, its golden eyes peering at the elves before it.

"Well, well, well. What do I see before me" it mocked as the dragon, not so great in size but no less menacing loomed over them. Thranduil stood tall, his sword dangling at his side as the dragon lowered its eye to face him. "Very brave little elf, but for naught for your time is over, I am Smaug and I am your end!" and with that the great reared back and made to engulf Thranduil in his jaws, yet the ellon threw himself to the floor and lashed out with his sword, causing the dragon to snarl in anger as the sharp blade nicked the soft tissue of his jaw. In anger Smaug swatted the elf-lord with his tail and sent him sprawling across the battlefield, the dragon abandoned the host of elves and followed the one that scored the wound. "That was a mistake wretch, you will taste flame" the dragon seethed before opening his maw and unleashing a torrent of flame, Thranduil closed his eyes for his final moments, waiting for the flame to consume him.

Lalaith sat beside her son as he lay asleep on her bed, it had taken a great effort to have her son take the sleeping draught she had made up for these exact situations. She gently brushed his hair from his face as a solitary tear slipped from her eye, she had heard his ramblings before he finally slipped into slumber, death, war and dragonfire. Since that fateful day at the climax of the first age he had been different, in times of great stress or emotion turmoil Thranduil would be haunted by the events of that war, it broke Lalaith's heart every time it happened and the shame in his eyes when the memories would flood back caused her to sob quietly as she covered her mouth with her free hand.

"Meleth-nin?" came her husbands soft voice, though laced with grief and a hint of fear. She tried to still her tears but found she could not, her son, her little spring lay before her battling his inner demons and she, his mother was powerless to help him. She felt her husband lay and hand on her shoulder, she did not want his touch at that moment, but she did not have the energy to fight him off.

"Why did you let him go?" she sobbed, turning her tear-filled eyes to Oropher, whose own face was grieved at the sight of his sons troubled sleep on their bed. He knew he should have insisted he stay behind, that he was not required but a little part of him wanted his son nearby, he had been parted for so long. His selfishness had allowed his greatest gift to relive his traumatic past and hurt his wife greatly.

"Because he is his father's son, and I was too selfish to let him out of my sight" he lamented as he sat beside his wife and gently took his sons hand into his own.

"Will he ever heal?" she said softly, her hand had still not left Thranduil's face as she sought to ease his sleep. Oropher did not answer, he could not. For he did not know if their son would ever be free of the horrors that were witnessed during the War of Warth, he spoke a silent pray to the Valar, praying that something could be done.

…

I know Smaug's appearance here seems out of place, his origins are never really explained by Tolkien. I didn't personally believe that Thranduil (As much as I love him) could've killed a dragon alone and thought if Ancalagon (Google him) decided to attack him then there would not be anything left. I appreciate all the reviews and let me know what you think and what you would like to see moving forward.

Thranduil's condition is effectively PSTD (Post-Traumatic stress disorder), thought it would bring a nice angle into the story. Thank you for a fellow reader/writer who is taking time to be a soundboard for this work.

Nesseldë – Little girl