This story is killing me… I am sorry but for my own convenience I had to split the last chapter again because it simply has gotten too long… But don't be afraid. I will upload the very last part (this time it is truly the last part) tomorrow, because it is already written I just want to read through it one last time. Believe me I am going to be so glad, when this story is finally done and fully uploaded. Don't get me wrong I really enjoyed writing it but I hate that it has gotten so out of hand since originally I just wanted it to be a one-shot. Well, obviously I failed… and it really became some kind of a mammoth project. Now I am glad that I can concentrate on other things again like the many unread books I have. The Children of Húrin is next! Yeah!
I apologize for some of the scenes, because I think you are going to notice that I didn't have much fun writing some of them… but they needed to be done for the story's sake.
So, please enjoy the second to the last chapter which is mostly Thranduil centered.
Did anyone notice that the epilogue is longer than the actual story?! Maybe I should call the epilogue the true story and the original story the prologue… Waaaaaahhh! This story is driving me crazy… -.-
So in the end Galadriel had been right. He hadn't sailed to Valinor when Elrond had asked him and he hadn't sailed to Valinor when his son had asked him. He would sail now, because he had grown tired of this land. He longed for the countless discussions he had had with the Peredhel, for the silent companionship they had shared so often and for the bantering. Just thinking about the oncoming centuries without any of this saddened his heart, which longed for whatever relationship they had shared. So he had decided, he would sail because he wanted to, because he wanted to see the Peredhel again. And it was his decision alone.
Thranduil guided his white horse through another narrow crevice and around another tight bend, when suddenly the passage ended and he was standing on a small edge overlooking the valley in the middle of which lay Imladris, or at least what was left of it. It was obvious that quite a few things had changed since his last visit and presumably since Vilya had lost its power. While the main house was still in very good shape, others weren't. They were deserted and Thranduil assumed that was the reason why no one bothered to renovate them. Imladris had lost most of its inhabitants to the Undying Lands. Some other houses were destroyed by the Bruinen or had been entirely flooded by it. A big part of what had been Imladris had been reclaimed by the river, which was now flowing freely again, since Vilya was gone. Thranduil sighed. What would Elrond say if he could see, what had become of the realm he had created with his own hands, the realm he had protected with his life? Thranduil averted his eyes for what he saw pained him deeply. He led the horse down a stony path deeper into the valley. It didn't take him long to reach the remains of the formerly huge archway marking the entrance. He rode through it and took the direct route to the main building for he assumed his chances to meet someone were highest there. And so it was. He hadn't even halted his horse when someone already came out of the building to welcome him. It was Celeborn who seemed very surprised to see him here.
"Mae govannem, King Thranduil.", he greeted him politely hiding his surprise very well.
"Mae govannem, Lord Celeborn.", he bowed slightly to the Elvenlord and then dismounted his horse.
It was then that Celeborn knew that something grave must have happened in the Woodland Realm for the Elvenking had never bowed to him.
"What brings you to Imladris... alone?" Celeborn came to his side.
"A very urgent matter I have to discuss with you and the sons of Elrond."
Celeborn led Thranduil into the main house where one of the few elves that still lived in Imladris took Thranduil's bow and quiver as well as his sword.
"Follow me, they are both in the library."
Thranduil did as he was told and followed Celeborn to the library, all the while taking in all the familiar sights. Everything bore the Peredhel's signature. It pained his heart, so that eventually he had to avert his eyes. It was too much to bear. So instead he focused on Celeborn who was walking in front of him and whose looks differed so much from Elrond. When they finally reached the library he saw Elrond's sons sitting around a table, both reading a book.
"Elladan, Elrohir, we have a guest."
Both looked up upon hearing their grandfather's voice. And when they behold who their guest was they got to their feet and bowed.
"King Thranduil.", they said in unison and Thranduil was again stunned by their resembling features, features that painfully reminded him of their father.
He had to avert his eyes again, but not before he acknowledged them with a slight bow.
"There is no king present in this room.", he finally said. "I abdicated."
He looked at them, wanting to see their reaction. Surprise was what he saw in the eyes of Elrond's sons. In Celeborn's eyes he saw understanding.
"I abdicated because I decided to sail. And I decided to pay you a visit to see if by any chance you were also thinking about sailing soon."
###
Thranduil was leaning on the balustrade of one of the balconies of the main house, where to he had retreated to give Celeborn and his grandsons some time to debate. He was looking over the vast valley and involuntarily his mind began to compare the valley of today with the valley as it had been the last time he had been here, when Elrond had still been in Middle-earth, when Vilya had still had all its power. When this valley had still been a flourishing Elven realm. And when Elrond had still been near whenever he had needed him. Thranduil knew he couldn't blame him for leaving Middle-earth. Elrond had lost much of his strength after the War of the Ring, after Vilya had lost its power, when being a ringbearer had finally caught up with him and yet it had hurt him deeply, when Elrond had left. But Elrond had done what had been necessary and now he would do what was necessary.
"So what has changed?"
Thranduil jerked out of his thoughts and turned around. Celeborn was standing in front of him, smiling.
"Well, the Bruinen has reclaimed quite a big part of the valley."
"You know that I wasn't asking about the valley."
"I know, but it was worth a try."
Celeborn laughed and with a few steps he was standing next to Thranduil and looked over the valley, like Thranduil had done only a few moments before. The smile disappeared from his face.
"I am tired, so tired of watching Elven realms falling into ruin.", he finally said after some minutes had passed without anyone saying a word.
Thranduil looked at the former Lord of the Galadhrim.
"And yet you stayed here instead of sailing after the War of the Ring."
Celeborn sighed.
"Yes indeed. It hadn't been an easy decision, leaving my wife, postponing seeing my daughter. But I wasn't ready then. And I couldn't sail, not without my grandsons. Neither Elrond nor Galadriel had any strength left to stay any longer, to wait for them till they were ready to finally accompany them to Valinor. And neither one of us could bear losing another child or grandchild, so I stayed to protect them and to bring them safely to Valinor."
"So you are ready now? To leave Middle-earth?"
Celeborn turned to look at him.
"Yes, we are ready. We will accompany you."
Thranduil looked at him in surprise for in his heart he had doubted that they would even consider sailing. Thus he couldn't prevent his heart from leaping for joy in his chest.
"When?", he tried not to sound too enthusiastic.
"As soon as we have settled all that is necessary. Maybe a week, maybe less."
Thranduil nodded. It was sooner than he had expected. And yet it couldn't be soon enough.
"So tell me, what has changed, Thranduil Oropherion?"
Celeborn looked him dead in the eyes and Thranduil held his gaze, but only for a while, then he turned away and looked over the valley again, where so many things had been shaped by Elrond's own two hands.
"I have been changed."
Like that valley had been changed after Elrond's arrival but then had fallen into ruin after his departure.
"I found that a good friend is more valuable than a kingdom or even pride."
Since he left I again feel like being stuck in an endless war with myself, he thought but didn't dare to speak it out loud. He couldn't tell Elrond's father-in-law that after Elrond's departure he had lost who he was, that after Elrond's departure his heart had been empty, that all the years he had stayed behind in Middle-earth were time spent in vain, were wasted years. He couldn't tell Celeborn that for him the war was not over, even though for Middle-earth it had ended five hundred years ago. For him sailing to Valinor would be the end's beginning, for better or worse.
###
Celeborn had spoken true words. In less than a week they were able to leave Imladris for the Grey Havens of Mithlond. The journey was uneventful and so they arrived sooner than expected, but with Círdan gone, the Grey Havens had fallen into ruin like the other Elven realms of Middle-earth and it only occurred to Thranduil now that the Woodland Realm would be the only Elven realm that would persist, even though there had been times he had doubted that it would survive Sauron's reign. And now the only Elven realm that had never been under the protection of any Ring of Power was the only one that would live through the Fourth Age. It made him proud, proud of his people, who had stood by his side through bad and worse.
He watched the empty houses as they rode past. They spoke of a long gone past of greatness and splendor. So much had changed since his last visit to Lindon. He had still been young then, an elfling, unknowing and carefree and with a soul devoid of any darkness. Nothing was left of this elfling. This elfling had been lost forever a long time ago burned away by a dragon's fire. And then he saw it… the sea. They had reached their destination. And when they reached its shore he halted his horse. There it was, the sea that was separating him from Elrond, the sea that lay between him and his son, vast and endless. He had never been very fond of the sea. He had always preferred the forest and he had never understood how any elf could follow its call. He like so many of his own people had never heard the sea calling to him and he knew that neither had Celeborn. And yet now they were here, ready to set sail, ready to leave Middle-earth behind. He sighed. In a few days time… He averted his eyes and looked for his traveling companions. He saw them not far away. They had dismounted in front of large building. He led his horse to them and reached them just as Celeborn opened the big gates made of wood. It was dark inside the building and stirred up dust further reduced visibility but when Thranduil took a closer look into the building t he saw piles of planks and a few smaller boats. It must have been Círdan's dockyard.
"Círdan's dockyard.", Elladan uttered.
"We might use one of these!" Elrohir went past his grandfather and soon disappeared between the boats.
"They are seaworthy!", he called from somewhere in the building. "But they might need some smaller repairs!"
"Very well!", Celeborn answered and then turned to Thranduil and smiled. "Just as I had hoped!"
###
Elrond was leaning on one of the columns of the archway leading onto one of the balconies overlooking the gardens. His original plan had been to take a walk in the gardens but when he had set foot on the balcony and discovered the two persons down in the garden below he had come to a halt and instead was now watching them from afar, not wanting to be seen and not wanting to disturb them. And yet he couldn't just leave them alone. He couldn't avert his eyes. So he had spent a long while watching Celebrian and Ereinion chatting and holding hands. He had known they were close, but he hadn't known how close. And yet he couldn't complain. He had ended their relationship. He had set Celebrian free and she had told him that she would move on but he hadn't thought her to move on so quickly. It hurt. At least he had waited three thousand years before moving on. He swallowed trying to not let it too close to his heart.
"Now only we two are left so it seems."
The sudden voice made him jump. He turned his face to see Galadriel standing next to him. She was also watching the couple in the gardens.
"I am afraid I don't understand."
She smiled at him this all knowing smile of hers.
"The only ones in this house who are tragically alone."
Elrond averted his eyes and returned his gaze to Celebrian and Ereinion.
Celebrian was laughing about something Ereinion had said.
"I didn't know he had any feelings for her."
He was wondering if Ereinion had already harbored any feelings for Celebrian then in Middle-earth or if this was a rather recent development. But then it didn't really matter, did it? If Ereinion had already had these feelings in Middle-earth then he had never acted on them. And if this hadn't been the case now his own heart belonged to someone else. So there was nothing to say against their developing relationship.
"I know I should be happy for them but I have no happiness left in me, not for me, not for them. And each day's ending is the proof of time killing all the faith I have left in me."
"I know. I know these feelings very well myself."
He now fully turned to her and saw that her smile was gone.
"My husband's and my ways might have parted again and again over the past millennia but I will never get used to it, to the waiting, to the agonizing uncertainty of ever seeing him again alive and well."
She looked him dead in the eyes.
"But I know if all is lost, hope remains."
Elrond sighed.
"I am so tired of hoping. All my life I had to rely on hope. Hoping my brother and I would survive the kinslaying at the Havens at Sirion, hoping to see my father and my mother again, hoping that Maedhros and Maglor would spare our lives, hoping that both of them would survive and that I would see them again, hoping that Elros would chose the life of the Eldar, hoping that he would revoke his decision, hoping he would live just a little bit longer, hoping I would survive the war against Sauron, hoping Gil-galad wouldn't die in my arms, hoping Isildur would listen to me, hoping against hope that the One Ring was lost forever, hoping that Sauron wouldn't return, hoping that we would find Celebrian in time, hoping she would not die on me, hoping that Arwen wouldn't make the same choice as Elros, hoping that the One Ring would be destroyed, hoping that my sons would come with me, hoping that Thranduil would come with me, hoping that Thranduil finally loses his damnable strength and pride, hoping and hoping. I am so sick of hoping. I want certainty for once in my life. Is this too much to ask for?"
"You know it is. There are too many paths that can be taken in life. The future is open wide beyond believing. There can be no certainty, thus we can only fall back on hope as unsatisfactory as it might be for us. We both know very well that there are things even the mighty and powerful have no control over. Here in Valinor our fate is to wait and to hope. Everything comes with a price and so do the Undying Lands."
###
Thranduil drove another nail into the hard wood with his hammer. The sun was standing high in the sky and burned down on them mercilessly. Drops of his sweat were running down his cheeks and dropping onto his hands. Elladan appeared at his side and dropped another pile of planks he had just shortened to the right length on the ground next to him.
"By Eru, it is so hot.", he exclaimed, involuntarily drawing the attention of all to himself and then removed his tunic. Only the blink of a second later his undergarments followed, leaving him in only his pants and boots. He stretched and sighed in contentment. Thranduil looked at the flawless skin of the young elf's upper part of the body, skin that was only disturbed by one rather short scar on Elladan's right chest, most likely caused by a sword. Thranduil averted his gaze. He couldn't bear to look at him any longer.
"That is so much better.", Elladan added.
"Splendid idea, brother!", Elrohir said from the deck of the boat, where he had been working together with Celeborn.
He followed his brother's example, removed his tunic and undergarments and threw it atop of his brother's clothing. Thranduil slowly raised his gaze to Elrohir. And just like his brother his skin was nearly perfect, marred only by two small scars shaped like dots on his right shoulders, obviously caused by two arrows. Thranduil felt the bile rising in his throat, while he unconsciously grabbed his own left shoulder. When he became aware of this action of his, he dropped his hand immediately, being angry at himself for losing control over his own body even for that blink of a second. Out of the corner of his eye he registered that Celeborn also followed suit and removed his tunics and undergarments.
"It really is much better."
And the sight Celeborn presented was a sight Thranduil knew just too well. The body of the former Lord of Lothlórien was covered with battle scars, relicts of the numerous past battles he had fought in, caused by the weapons used by evil, used by Morgoth, Sauron and their spawn. The only weapons causing wounds that even elves had trouble to properly recover from. The only weapons that left scars on the flawless skin of the Eldar. And thus they presented a perfect way to identify those who had been so lucky to be born after the great wars, those who had been lucky enough to never witness the madness of those battlefields, those young elves like Elladan and Elrohir, who would never know what black despair felt like and what it meant to live with it burned into your memory, if you had been unlucky enough to survive those battles. He envied them because they would never know this black despair that made you wish for your own death, that made you curse the lack of fighting skills of the enemy archer whose arrow had just missed your heart, of the enemy swordsman whose blade had just missed your neck. He averted his eyes, took another nail and drove it into the hard wood with one fierce stroke. Celeborn might be comfortable showing his scars or more likely his grandsons already knew them so he was comfortable showing them in front of them, but he himself wasn't. They told too much about him, about his past and about his mental constitution. So he endured the sweat that ran down his forehead and disturbed his field of vision. He had endured far worse.
###
Thranduil kneeled on one of the piers and splashed some of the cool seawater into his face. It felt good and cooled his skin at least for a short moment. Suddenly he heard someone approaching and since he knew his travel companions very well by now he knew by the walk of the person, who was approaching that it must be Celeborn. The former Lord of the Galadhrim stopped right next to him and he waited patiently for Celeborn to start talking for it was obvious that he had come to him with a purpose.
"You don't have to hide from them."
Thranduil again splashed some water into his face. The salt burnt in his eyes for a few seconds and he had to blink a few times before his vision returned to normal.
"I don't know what you mean."
He dried his face with the hem of his tunic and got to his feet. Celeborn was looking at the horizon and for a short while it seemed like his mind was far away, most likely it was with his wife on the other side of the Sundering Seas. And Thranduil followed Celeborn's gaze. Somewhere in the distance Elrond now lived. Eventually Celeborn turned his head to look at Thranduil.
"They know the wounds inflicted by war and battle. They might not have fought in the War of Wrath or in the Last Alliance of Elves and Men but they have fought against Sauron's spawn not only during the War of the Ring. And throughout their lives they have seen numerous injuries during the battles they have fought or while helping their father tending the injured in Imladris. And they have seen their father's body and mine. They know what we went through. So you don't have to hide your body."
Thranduil sighed.
"They might know the historical facts but they don't know what we went through."
"And I am relieved beyond words that they never will know. I would never wish this experience on anyone."
"I envy them."
Neither of them said another word and together they stood side by side looking over the vast sea.
###
While lying in his sleeping bag Thranduil listened to the quiet and shallow breathing of Elladan and Celeborn, who were already fast asleep but like so often he himself was wide awake, like Elrohir who was keeping watch. Middle-earth might be free of Sauron and his spawn but old habits die hard. He concentrated on the constellations he could see shining through the tree tops, in order to ease his agitated mind. He knew them well, had often studied them and now that the boat was nearly fully repaired it had occurred to him that there might only be few days left to watch the stars that had accompanied him throughout his whole life here in Middle-earth. He didn't know if he would be able to see these exact constellations in Valinor… like so many things he didn't know about this far away land, like he didn't know if Elrond was truly waiting for him or if he had forgotten his friend now that he had been reunited with his wife… He quickly pushed that last thought away and focused on the constellations again, recalling the name of each star he knew, when suddenly clouds began to appear. First they only partially blocked his view but soon the whole sky was hidden by a thick layer of heavy clouds. A cold raindrop hit him directly in his eye causing a short but sharp pain. He squinted his eyes, while he felt more and more raindrops hitting his face.
"My prince! Quick! Please wake up!"
Thranduil opened his eyes in confusion, looking into the eyes of one of his father's guards.
"Please, Prince Thranduil! Hurry! Your father…"
Thranduil sat up and tried to remember where he was. He felt kind of disoriented and when he scanned his surroundings he found himself in a small tent with this guard bent over him. Raindrops were hitting the tarpaulin. Obviously it was raining again, like it had so many days before.
"Please, Prince Thranduil! Your father… he is leaving the camp with the intention of attacking Sauron!"
That got his attention and for the first time he really looked at the guard. He looked really worried and frightened.
"What?!"
Thranduil stumbled to his feet, searching frantically for his bow and quiver and his twin swords and when he had finally found them and had fastened the quiver on his back he ran out of the tent, the guard hot on his heels. Cold rain hit him and small drops of water ran down his neck and disappeared beneath his armor, slowly wetting his undergarments. The light of day told him that it must be early afternoon.
"Gil-galad ordered him to wait till tomorrow morning for the combined assault. What is he thinking?!", he muttered angrily while unfastening the reins of his horse from a post.
When he mounted his horse he saw that the camp was deserted except for a few warriors but he could still see the army in the near distance. He cursed and urged his horse on, leaving the guard behind. When he had reached the army he led his horse through the warriors until he finally reached his father.
"Father!"
He brought his horse next to his father's.
"Father, what are you doing? Gil-galad ordered a combined attack tomorrow morning."
Oropher turned his face to look at him. He looked him over and then into his eyes.
"He is not my king! He will sacrifice our men because they are less worthy to him than his precious Noldorin elves. Other elves like you or our kin are of no worth to them. They have proven this quite a few times."
His father looked him dead in the eyes.
"Mark my words, son. I am my own king! I won't follow a Noldo, because as soon as there is the chance he will stab you in the back."
Thranduil swallowed. He knew what his father was hinting at. His father had often told him the stories of the past. The Noldor could not to be trusted… never.
"I understand, father."
His father smiled.
"I knew you would."
And yet when his father averted his eyes the bad feeling Thranduil had regarding his father's plan wouldn't go away. And it stayed with him during the battle.
He saw the flying arrow before it hit its target, he saw it and in this very moment his brain already knew what future lay before him caused by this well aimed single arrow. He saw the arrow but the person that counted didn't. The person that counted was fighting off another orc. And when his father landed the fatal blow to the orc's head he offered his vulnerable chest to the arrow, as though the archer had anticipated exactly this last move. And the arrow mercilessly took the offered chest and hit the King of Greenwood the Great in his chest, piercing his heart. Thranduil's heart missed a beat. He knew the hit must have been fatal when the sword fell from his father's hand. His father's gaze dropped to the shaft that was stuck in his chest while his hand slowly reached for it as though he couldn't believe that he had really been hit. Then when realization hit him he raised his gaze again and slowly turned and their gazes locked. Thranduil would never forget the shock and utter fear he saw in his father's eyes… his father, who had never been afraid of anything. Then his father's legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. No! No! NO! He wasn't ready… not yet! Thranduil surged forward, fighting his way through the numerous orcs to get to his father as quickly as possible all the while fighting down all the fears that were now mercilessly surfacing in his mind. He wasn't ready to become king! And he definitely wasn't ready to lose his father.
"Father!"
He easily felled the last orc that stood between him and his father, rushed to his father's side and dropped to his knees, fully expecting that life had already left his father. But his father turned his head to look at him and Thranduil felt relief washing over him. Maybe there was hope.
"Father…"
He carefully touched his father, afraid to cause him further pain.
"Thranduil… my son…"
"Sh, father, save your strength."
He looked at the shaft buried in his father's chest. He swallowed hard. There was no chance that the arrow had missed his father's heart. And thus he knew that there was no chance that his father would live through it. He had to blink a few times, trying not to shed any tears in front of his dying father. And yet, even though he knew it would be in vain, he couldn't just sit here and wait for his father's death.
"I…"
He was about to touch his father's shoulders, thinking about trying to help him getting up but his father grabbed his wrist.
"Don't…"
He looked into his father's eyes.
"Thranduil… there was a day… I… I thought I had lost you… I was afraid of… losing you… Now I am glad… that I am allowed to go before you… I couldn't bear to… lose you. But I know you are strong enough… strong enough to overcome my death."
"Father please…"
"You are everything I could ever… wish for. You are going to… be a very good king…"
Thranduil shook his head. He didn't want to become king… not now, not like this!
"I have to tell… you one more thing…"
His father took a deep rattling breath.
"We will not meet again…"
Thranduil didn't understand.
"What… what do you mean?"
"I won't ever leave the Halls of Mandos… I can't bear to live… under… under…"
A coughing fit shook his father and all he could do was watch as his father slowly died.
"Please, father, stop.", Thranduil begged, seeing how much strength it cost his father to speak.
"Elvenking!"
Thranduil's head jerked up as the exclamation reached his ears. And there not far away a tall orc came towards him and his father, easily parting the fighting crowd that separated them from each other. The orc was flanked by two smaller orcs. Thranduil didn't lose any time but stumbled to his feet, grabbing his swords and positioned himself in front of his father, awaiting their arrival. He would protect his father no matter what the cost!
"Thrand –"
He didn't even hear his father finishing his name, when something hit his head from behind and he fell into darkness. When he regained consciousness he knew immediately where he was and what had happened prior to him being knocked out. He tried to get to his feet, even before he had opened his eyes, but a sudden sharp pain in his arms, caused by rough claw like hands, forced him back down on his knees and when he opened his eyes he saw the tall orc standing in front of him, grinning like a madman. But worst of all wasn't his pain but the fact that the tall orc had grabbed his father's hair and had pulled him into a kneeling position. His father was barely able to hold himself upright, only the orc's grip on his hair prevented him from falling back to the ground. Rage rose in his chest and Thranduil threw himself forward trying to escape the orc that held him down, but he was forcefully pulled backwards, pain erupting in his shoulders that brought tears to his eyes.
"A fierce protector you have there.", the orc said to his father.
His father didn't reply.
"Leave him!", Thranduil hissed through his gritted teeth.
The orc looked at him, then back at his father and again at him. Then he grinned.
"He looks just like you.", he told the king. "Blonde like the king himself among all those dark haired clumsy Wood Elves. Your spawn I guess, Elvenking.", he spat the last word.
Then he looked again at Thranduil.
"A little prince you are then."
He grinned, obviously pleased with his deduction.
"My axe!", he then barked and held open his free hand.
One of the smaller orcs quickly came to his side and handed him a big jagged axe.
"I see you have failed to teach your spawn some proper manners. But don't worry I will do that for you. I will teach him that orcs don't like to take orders from scum like you!"
He raised the hand that was holding Oropher by his hair and Thranduil heard his father grunt in pain. Thranduil fought against the hands holding him down, restraining him. The jagged axe was raised and Thranduil struggled with all his might against the orc that held him down. And when the axe went down he desperately threw himself against the restraining hands, which only tightened their grip more and he felt the bones in his left arm snap as the axe drove through his father's neck, severing his head from his body, as a splash of his father's blood hit his face. But he didn't feel any pain, he felt nothing at all only emptiness, as he watched his father's head fall to the ground from where the tall orc picked it up only to let it dangle in front of Thranduil's face.
"You should be thankful, young prince. By freeing his head from his miserable shoulders I ended his pain."
Thranduil barely registered what the orc had said. His gaze was locked with his father's gaze as life slowly left them. Then suddenly the head was whisked away, out of his field of vision and the hands that had held him down were removed but he didn't… he couldn't move. He could only stare.
"I will let you live because I saw you fight, you and your father. And I still want to have some fun in this war, fun I won't have if there are only these clumsy Wood Elves to fight against."
And with that the orc and his companions turned away, taking his father's head with them and still he could just stare. Only little by little did he realize that his father was gone forever and it had been his fault. And it was his fault that the enemy was now walking away with his father's head.
He looked one last time at his father's beheaded body, dark red blood was still trickling out of the stump where once had been his father's head. He then averted his eyes and instead focused on the retreating back of the tall orc. With a scream he got to his feet and surged forward, giving the desperation he felt within him room to unfold. While running after the tall orc he grabbed a spear that still stuck in a dead orc who was lying on his way. Armed orcs came toward him, ready to strike, to kill him. Thranduil drove the spear into the first orc when the orc had raised his mace to strike a blow, leaving his chest wide open. He didn't slow down but let go of the spear, jumped on the orc's broad chest, thus using his momentum to fell the orc and catapulted himself off the orc, grabbing the spear and taking it with him, thus pulling it out of the dying orc. He landed on the muddy ground without stumbling and without having to stop, not even for one second. All the while he didn't lose sight of the tall orc ahead of him. Another orc entered his field of vision, till too far away to land a blow with his axe but not too far away for his spear. Thranduil raised the spear from his right side to the left side above his head bringing his spear to the axe and knocking it out of his opponent's hand and used his momentum to spin around taking the spear with him and beheading the orc with a precise cut after completing a full circle. A third orc suddenly appeared from the left, where his field of vision was limited and only a quick and forceful thrust driving the spear deep into the orc's chest saved him from a serious blow. The orc looked at him his face distorted by rage and hate. Suddenly the orc roared, droplets of saliva hitting Thranduil's face. He turned his face away in disgust, when suddenly the spear in his hands was pulled away from him and he with it. He barely saw that the orc had pushed the spear through his body, bringing him closer to the orc, when the orc's mace hit him in the head. The blow knocked him to the ground but his survival instincts kicked in immediately and he rolled to the side bringing himself out of immediate danger. The pain in his head was bearable, he had suffered much greater pain in his head and yet he felt dizzy. He tried to get to his feet pushing himself off with his arms, when pain exploded in his left arm. He fell back to his knees, holding his broken arm. He hadn't even remembered it had been broken… Small droplets of blood fell on his arm. Obviously the hit to his head had caused an open wound. But he had no time to think about it for he heard footsteps behind him. He spun around but it was too late. It was the orc from before. A claw like hand closed around his throat and he was pulled to his feet. Thranduil reached for one of the two small throwing knives on his back and stabbed the orc in the neck. The orc didn't blink instead he increased the pressure on Thranduil's throat and Thranduil knew the orc was trying to suffocate him. With a quick move he twisted the knife still stuck in the orc's neck and finally he was greeted with a gush of blood and a death rattle before the orc's loosened his grip on his throat and sank to the ground dying. Thranduil landed on his feet and retrieved the small knife before turning around and looking for the tall orc. He was nowhere to be seen. Thranduil felt panic rising in his chest as he spun around trying to orientate himself. But there was nothing he recognized, no landmark that looked familiar. He run a few steps looking for something familiar, something that would help him to reconstruct where to the tall orc had wandered off. But there was nothing. He tried another direction, running onto a small hill overlooking the battlefield, all the while evading single orcs. He had no time for them right now. He reached the top of the hill and stopped dead in his tracks, when he saw no sign of the tall orc, when he finally realized he had failed, he had lost them and with them his father's head, lost forever to the enemy. So here he was standing in the middle of a muddy battlefield. He, the heir to the throne of the Woodland Realm, who had been incapable of protecting his king, his own father. Incapable… He was incapable… Dizzy… He felt dizzy and suddenly his legs gave out and he fell to his knees. The world was spinning and bile rose in his throat. He had to close his eyes. It was too much.
"Thranduil!"
His men? Unfortunately they were too late.
"They have his head.", he whispered, unable to talk any louder.
"What did he say? Whose head?", he heard another voice ask.
"Stay back.", the first voice said, not answering the question.
"They killed him. They took his head. I… I failed."
"Thranduil, open your eyes. Please." It was the first voice again but now it seemed much closer.
"They…" A hand was put on his shoulder. "… have his head."
"I know… Open your eyes."
It was a whispered order, but an order none the less. And he couldn't disobey the authority that had transpired through the voice. So he opened his eyes. Dark blue eyes were staring into his light blue ones. Then he noticed the silver hair. None of his men had silver hair. Something was wrong. Even the ground didn't feel right. It was wet but not muddy. No, it was a typical forest floor covered with fir needles. This wasn't Dagorlad. He averted his eyes off the silver haired elf in front of him and took a look around. And indeed he was kneeling in a forest and a few meters away two dark haired elves were standing and looking at him. They were panting and both of them were wielding a sword. They were looking like… Elrond. Elladan and Elrohir! Elrond's twin sons with whom he had journeyed to the Grey Havens in order to sail to the West. And when he finally saw the numerous gashes on the trees standing next to them and became aware of the sword in his right hand it dawned on him. He let his sword drop to the ground and looked at Celeborn who was still kneeling in front of him and who still had his hand on his shoulder.
"Celeborn… I… I lost myself… I…"
He buried his head in his hands unable to face the other elves.
"It's okay. Elrohir saw you running into the forest with your sword. We followed you, while you were fighting your way through the forest. We weren't in any danger and neither were you, we made sure of that."
But Thranduil shook his head.
"You don't understand! I really lost myself again!", Thranduil nearly screamed, desperation getting the better of him.
And for a while there was only silence. Nobody dared to say anything, while Thranduil wished he would just disappear, right here, right now.
"One night…", Elrohir suddenly said. "… I found father in the healing quarters. He was frantically trying to cut a non-existent arrow out of his left arm. Mother later told me that during the Last Alliance he had been hit by an arrow in exactly this spot."
Thranduil raised his head in disbelieve.
"I once nearly killed Galadriel.", Celeborn said tonelessly.
"You nearly killed our grandmother?!", the twins exclaimed in perfect unison.
But Celeborn didn't turn to look at them instead he kept his gaze locked with Thranduil's.
"Yes, when we were camping in the forest. It was her turn to keep watch and I was sleeping, dreaming of past battles like I do so often, when I suddenly heard footsteps close to my head. Instantly I was reminded of the one time during the Last Alliance when an army of orcs had tried to raid our camp during the night. I jumped to my feet, a knife in my hand and attacked whoever it was standing so close to me. It was her. She had just ventured closer to the fire."
"But you recognized her before actually hurting her?", Elladan asked, but Celeborn shook his head.
"Galadriel might not have fought for quite a while then but her reflexes were still as quick as the reflexes of a good warrior. She blinded me with the light of Nenya before I had the chance to hurt her. The horrible pain caused by its glare forced me to my knees and brought me back to reality. This was the first and only time I was glad that she actually was the keeper of a Ring of Power."
It was only then that he removed his hand from Thranduil's shoulder.
"Thranduil, we all have our demons following us during night and day. You are not alone."
###
It was on the next day that Thranduil decided he could trust his traveling companions. And it was then, while they repaired the mast, while the sun burned down on them, that he removed his tunic and undergarments. And the fact that neither of them asked him about the ample burn scars on his left shoulder he had indirectly obtained when his face had been directly hit by the dragon's fire or about the star shaped scar overlapping a part of the burn scars, where a Mordor shaft had hit him during the Battle of Dagorlad and which he himself had had to pull out along with parts of his own flesh because no one had been near to help him or about the numerous other scars that covered his body, told him he had made the right decision. He could trust them.
And it was on this day that they finally finished the ship and instead of waiting for the next day they decided to free their horses, to launch the boat and to load the boat with their belongings and supplies. And before the sun set Celeborn removed the rope, their last connection to Middle-earth, from the bollard and thus they set sail guided by Eärendil and left Middle-earth behind. And Celeborn and Thranduil were the only ones watching Middle-earth disappear over the horizon.
###
Thranduil,
Please tell me why I must fall for the strong one? Why couldn't you be a weak and fearful elf taking flight whenever danger might arise? Why must you be the strong elf who never backs down? Why must you be the proud elf, the proud king? But I guess if you weren't that strong and proud elf I wouldn't have fallen for you. Then I wouldn't be sitting here now contemplating… no… quarreling with my fate, cursing your character that makes you who you are, someone special to me. That character of yours that turned Valinor into a dark paradise for me.
All my suffering should have ended here but now my suffering seems to be worse than it has been in Middle-earth. I curse you and your unique character and I hate myself more and more for doing so. And every time I close my eyes I see your face. It won't leave my head. It is haunting me. I see you in my sleep. I feel you in my dreams and often I don't even want to wake up because there will be no 'you' here in this dark paradise, only in my dreams. Unfortunately there is no remedy for memory and so I can't even move on even though you are not here.
###
It was the day that they passed Númenor or at least where it could have been found until its downfall. They had assembled on deck and Celeborn recounted the story of the rise and fall of Númenor. And Thranduil's heart went out to Elrond when Celeborn retold the story of the first king of Númenor, Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elladan's and Elrohir's uncle, Elrond's own twin brother who had preferred to be counted among men rather than elves. And now after spending some time in Elladan's and Elrohir's company and actually seeing how close both of them were, closer than any other pair of siblings he had ever seen, he couldn't even imagine what it had meant for Elrond to be separated from his brother by death. Deep down in his heart he wondered how anyone could ever leave Elrond. And he shook his head in utter disbelieve for he would never understand how anyone could choose the Fate of Men. And he was glad beyond measure that Elrond had chosen to be counted among elves, because otherwise they would have never met, a thought that saddened his heart.
"Have you ever been to Númenor?", Elrohir suddenly asked his grandfather and jerked Thranduil out of his own thoughts.
"No, I haven't. It was too close to Valinor. I was afraid that I would never be able to return to Middle-earth again, if I ever went there."
He laughed.
"And you, Thranduil?", Elladan asked.
Again Thranduil shook his head but this time as a response to Elladan's question.
"No, I was never fond of the sea and as you can see it is quite a long way from Middle-earth."
"But your father… He was there during the glorious days of Númenor visiting his brother once or twice. But I am sure he never speaks of it because it causes him too much pain."
"Yes, he never speaks of it…"
###
Celeborn and his grandsons had long gone below decks to sleep but Thranduil had remained on deck to watch the stars. He knew that it wasn't long till Valinor anymore now that they had passed Númenor and so this might be his last chance to see the sky as he knew it. Suddenly a shooting star appeared and crossed his line of vision, describing a perfect straight line like a well shot arrow.
He saw the flying arrow before it hit its target. He saw the arrow but the person that counted didn't. The person that counted was fighting off another orc. And when the person who counted landed the fatal blow to the orc's head he offered his vulnerable chest to the arrow, as though the archer had anticipated exactly this last move. And the arrow mercilessly took the offered chest and hit the herald of Gil-galad in his chest piercing his heart.
"Elrond!"
Thranduil's heart missed a beat. He knew the hit must have been fatal when the sword fell from Elrond's hand. Elrond's gaze dropped to the shaft that was stuck in his chest while his hand slowly reached for it as though he couldn't believe that he had really been hit. Then when realization hit him he raised his gaze again and slowly turned and their gazes locked. Then his Elrond's legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. No! No! NO! Not Elrond! Not now! Thranduil surged forward, fighting his way through the numerous orcs to get to Elrond as quickly as possible all the while fighting down all the fears that were now mercilessly surfacing in his mind. He wasn't ready to let Elrond go! He wasn't ready to lose Elrond.
"Elrond!"
He easily felled the last orc that stood between him and Elrond, rushed to his side and dropped to his knees, fully expecting that life had already left Elrond. But Elrond turned his head to look at him and Thranduil felt relief washing over him. Maybe there was hope. "Elrond…"
He carefully touched Elrond, afraid to cause him further pain.
"Thranduil… "
"Sh, Elrond, save your strength."
He looked at the shaft buried in Elrond's chest. And then he realized he had seen this before but then it hadn't been Elrond on the receiving end of that very arrow. He looked around. He was at Dagorlad, the very spot where he had lost his father, where his dislike for Gil-galad and his herald had been born. And yet now he was kneeling next to this very herald and his impending death broke his heart. He knew this was not how it had happened! Then during the Last Alliance he would have never kneeled next to Elrond and he never would have felt such despair because of a dying Noldorin herald, who was dying in the very same manner as his father had. This was just wrong on so many levels.
"Thranduil…"
He looked down at the dying Elrond. Elrond never died at Dagorlad. He like himself had been among the unfortunates who had survived the horrors of Sauron's battlefields. So this couldn't be real. This wasn't real! He got to his feet looking down at Elrond's chest, still rising and falling.
"Thranduil, please…"
"Stop it!", Thranduil shouted at Elrond.
"This is not real! This is not how it happened! This is not what happened! This is just my mind playing tricks on me!"
"Then fight it!" Elrond got to his feet and looked at him. "Fight it!"
Thranduil reached out his hand, trying to touch Elrond but not really daring to. Gone was the arrow and gone was the armor. He was standing there in front of him like he remembered him, wearing a dark blue tunic and crowned with a golden diadem, like he had been five hundred years ago in Imladris. Then suddenly Elrond grabbed his shoulders.
"You know this is not real! Fight it! I know you can."
"But how?"
Elrond smiled at him.
"You already made the first step. Now open your eyes!"
He wanted to say that they were already open but Elrond stared him dead in the eyes, storm grey meeting ice-blue.
"Open your eyes!"
And so he did.
He was still standing at the railing, his hands clutching the railing as if holding on for dear life. His arms and legs were shaking and he was panting for air. And yet here he was and for the first time he had managed to fight off the madness that had claimed his mind so long ago. For the first time sanity had conquered madness. He fell to his knees, his shaking hands never letting go of the railing. Elrond… I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side.
I actually forgot to say something about the last chapter when Thranduil (during the dragon fire hallucination with Elrond) feels no pain etc. until Elrond touches him. Maybe some of you thought: "Hey, why is he feeling pain after Elrond touches him? I thought they like each other!" Actually Thranduil feeling the pain after Elrond touches him is an allegory for Thranduil being able to feel again after meeting Elrond… Thranduil is kind of giving up on being a cold and distant king at least towards his son and Elrond and Celeborn and Galadriel and so on. Not towards Saruman of course, that good for nothing ***************************** Istar.^^
I borrowed some lines from Lana Del Rey's song "Dark Paradise" in Elrond's letter to Thranduil and at the end of the scene on the boat when Thranduil is having another of his hallucinations.
I also borrowed some lines from Trading Yesterday's song "Shattered" near the end of the last scene in Imladris shortly before Thranduil and the others are leaving and some lines I used for the talk of Elrond and Galadriel, when both of them watched Celebrian and Ereinion.
I know that I nearly used the exact words of Thranduil's memory sequence in the forest again later when he had that hallucination about Elrond being hit by that very same arrow. I didn't do this out of laziness. But when I am writing I see what I am writing like a movie and I imagined that if this would have been a movie the second scene would be exactly the same scene as the first one, the only difference being that Elrond took Oropher's place. So it's more a stylistic kind of thing… or so…^^ And since I'm the author your argument is invalid! ;-P
Eh, about why Thranduil has no title anymore. I thought that since Thranduil actually abdicated he lost his title since the title Elvenking/King of the Woodland Realm was given to his successor and I don't know if he would be consider a lord after that so I decided to leave him without title to show what Thranduil was willing to sacrifice in order to see Elrond again…^^ because I actually think that being a king was rather important for him at least in this story.
All the others actually never really or officially abdicated. They either left for Valinor of their realms vanished so I let them keep their titles. But since I really loved Elrond calling Thranduil Elvenking it was a tough decision.^^
And why the heck do the fidghting scenes always look so cool in your head and then after writing them they are so horrible... -.-