Chapter 58

At Long Last

The gleam of sunlight made Thranduil blink for a moment. He lifted his hand to cover his eyes, while the other loosely held the reins of his horse. In his haste to leave Greenwood, he had only worn the white undershirt and a pair of black breeches. He had no jewels or crown, no rings and no outer silk robe to identify himself as King. Truth be told, he looked like someone who had just come out of the shower and decided to visit the neighbouring forest.

Raithon rode beside him, the grin on his face still there. "You know we can make the horses run, right? Why on earth are we keeping this slow pace? Are you not excited to see her?"

I am. The words were caught up in his throat. He swallowed the lump again and breathed in and out. "I am excited to see her," he claimed, relieved that the words fell smoothly from his lips. "But I am worried."

"Worried? What for?"

"Maybe she doesn't want to see me." Thranduil gazed down and patted his horse. "Maybe she has so many problems at hand that she has no time to meet me."

"Oh, stop worrying, you old poop!" Raithon placed his arm around his friend's shoulder, and dreamily looked into the distance. There was nothing but the Great River and the beige fields. "Just imagine her in the forest, looking so pretty and quiet. Then, she turns to see you and smiles. Isn't that something?"

Thranduil laughed and elbowed his friend. "Shut up. If she runs away from me, I am blaming you."

"And why would she run away?" Raithon poked Thranduil's cheek and his hand was slapped away. He laughed. "I mean, she's your lady. After all these years, she is still yours, right?"

"No, I do not think so." His mood changed easily. "It has been thousands of years. She has this so-called reborn elf from the West. Who knows who else could be courting her in Rivendell or Lórinand?"

"But do you want her? That is the question."

"Want sounds like a powerful word, doesn't it? It sounds like a fleeting feeling. I am in no position to say that I want her, since I haven't seen her for years and I doubt the feeling is still there." Thranduil sighed and urged his horse faster. "More like, I just want to get to Lórinand and see what I could do to help."

Raithon nodded and snapped at the reins. "I suppose you're right. You can court her much later."

Thranduil made a face. "You're not quite helping. Who else is in Lórinand now?"

"As we speak, perhaps the marchwardens."

"And that reborn elf?"

"Do you mean Lord Glorfindel?" Raithon smirked.

"I don't know," Thranduil retorted, sarcastic. "Is there anyone else reborn from the West?"

"You can take that sarcastic tone with me, but to the wardens and Lord Glorfindel, I am sure you cannot," the captain warned.

A day after too much riding, the two Sindarin elves from Greenwood beheld the golden forest. It was evening now, and the road up ahead wounded on. The horses bolted and off they went, getting closer and closer to the northern borders. Golden lights dappled the trees where the lanterns hung; long, silver staircases were around each tree and platforms were set above. A dark-haired scout emerged from the darkness, cloaked in grey and carried a bow and horn. He looked up at the two riders and spoke hastily in Silvan.

It was Raithon who replied in the same native tongue of the Silvan folk. He announced that they were elves from Greenwood and were there on business.

Reluctantly, the scout shook his head no. "I received no orders to admit strangers," he told them.

"No orders?" Raithon looked at Thranduil, who only shrugged. "Well, what orders were given to you?"

"I have none," the poor scout admitted, fidgeting. "There are no orders—none whatsoever. If you leave our borders now, the marchwardens would not have to take you away. They have been apprehensive since the Lady returned from the Havens and—"

"Lady?" Thranduil whirled his horse up front, almost running over the scout. "What Lady?"

The young scout gulped. "Truly, I am not supposed to—"

"Hey!" Another marchwarden from the darkness called out. He grabbed his weapons and jogged towards the small company, his blue-grey eyes looking up at the two Sindarin elves. He sneered. "Who are you and what do you want? You have arrived in our borders. If you have no business here, I suggest you be gone quickly. These parts are not safe."

"You do not seem to recognize either of us," Raithon mused. "I am Raithon, Captain of the Guards. My companion here is Thranduil, son of Oropher, and King of the Woodland Realm. It would be kind if you let us in the forest."

Orophin did a double take and bowed low. "My Lord Thranduil," he murmured. "Forgive us for the delay."

"No worries." The King began to lead his horse towards the entrance of the forest. Behind him, Raithon, Orophin and the young scout followed. "Tell me what has happened here lately."

The northernmost outpost came into view and some of the wardens gathered around to watch. It was built there to observe the movements in the Misty Mountains, particularly the paved road that led to Mirrormere and Moria.

"King Amroth and Lady Nimrodel have left for the Havens. Right now, the kingdom is under the Lady's command." Orophin saw that more and more wardens were arriving, among them was his younger brother Rúmil. He nodded to his brother and watched him sprint off. Then he looked at the Elvenking again. "So far, we have not received orders from her, not one bit—nothing to patrol the forest, or to watch over the palace. Nothing."

"Do you have a Chief Marchwarden?" Thranduil dismounted his horse, as did Raithon.

"Not any longer," Orophin told him. "Orgilion was one of the elves to sail for the West."

"A pity." Thranduil knew Orgilion long before King Amdír and King Oropher died on the battlefield. Whenever he stood close to the warden, he felt small and helpless. Despite the hulking stature and boisterous laughter that Orgilion was known for, he was kind, gentle and was like a father to the young wardens.

"What are you to do without a Chief Marchwarden?" Raithon said.

Orophin shrugged. "I do not know. Normally, my brother Haldir would take care of things unattended in the barracks and outpost."

"Haldir?" Thranduil remembered his guest a few months back. "Where has he gone to?"

"To Rivendell. He has been gone for days. So far it is the only order we received from the Lady."

"Where is she now?"

"In the field behind the palace." Orophin led the way further inside the golden forest until they reached the courtyard. He pointed to the narrow pathway that led to the rivershore behind. "She has been mourning for five days straight," he said to Thranduil and Raithon, as a frown formed on his lips. "She has refused to eat anything we give her, or to get some rest. She allowed no one to come near her. She has not even changed her clothes since she arrived from the Havens. We don't know what else to do."

"Must have been so hard for her," Raithon whispered.

The weight of the crown too heavy for her to bear. Thranduil understood that. When his father died, he had also been reluctant to take the crown and was adamant that Greenwood and Lórinand come together as one Woodland realm.

With a sharp intake of breath, he gathered his courage and went off.

He would talk to her now. Yes, after almost two thousand years of avoiding her, he was now taking one step at a time to see her again. His heart was hammering inside his chest, and his palms were beginning to sweat. His throat was dry and he tried to lick his lips because he suddenly felt so hot. When was the last time he felt so nervous about making an appearance? Not once in Greenwood. When was the last time he was unsure of himself? Before he became the King. Now, he could not even describe in words how tensed he felt as the river came into view.

As he rounded behind the palace, what he saw first was the narrow swift-running river that coursed. It was like a blue-green ribbon that shone under the pale moonlight and golden lanterns which hung on the tree branches. He saw orange lights from the fireflies looked like embers drifting in the wind, and heard the faint howling of the wind. In the middle of the small field, seated on the rivershore, was a lonely figure. It was hunched there, unmoving like a statue, but it let out a hoarse little cry and sniff.

Thranduil held his breath as he took one step, and then another. When a twig snapped under his boot, he flinched at the deafening sound, his blood running cold.

Then the figure slowly turned around.

Erynlith could not make out who was approaching her. She curled her fist and pawed at her damp eyes, wiping the accursed tears away. Her vision became slightly better: someone tall and slender was walking towards her, quiet as a shadow. She could not place his pale golden hair and hopeful blue eyes, and supposed it was either Orophin or Rúmil; the brothers had relentlessly tried to help her, but she had declined them. She regretted pushing them away, because she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Now that they were coming to her, she wanted to apologize.

His breath hitched again when she stood up, staggering at first, and then regained balance. His eyes immediately searched for her face; it was flushed and her lips were curled into a small frown. He took one step again, mindless of the swarm of fireflies around him. Another step. Another. And another. He stopped when he reached the edge of the shore, now standing only a few inches from her.

"Eryn...?"

She must have been hearing things. No one in Lórinand called her by name. Only Amroth, and Amroth was down in the Sea. Her beloved cousin was gone: gone and out there in the bottom of the Sea. Her tears threatened to fall again. She pawed at her eyes once more, desperate now, seeing white stars form amidst the darkness. Whoever that person was grabbed her fist and gently pulled it away from her eyes. She blinked, trying to regain her vision.

"Eryn."

The voice. Yes, it sounded familiar. But the face. Yes, she could see now. Someone with long fair hair and soft eyes was talking to her. And his voice, she remembered that voice. She was a minstrel and remembering music was almost second nature to her.

Thranduil touched her cheek and lifted her chin so that her teary grey eyes looked into his blue ones.

"Do you...remember me?

She looked up to him and was quiet for a moment. She thought it was just her imagination playing things on her, but when she felt his hand touching her cheek and brush away a strand of her hair, it all looked real now. She took time studying his face, the handsome face that smirked at her ages ago. She could not believe her eyes.

"I know your face," Erynlith whispered breathlessly, "Thranduil."

"Yes." Tears brimmed from his eyes and he could not stop himself from embracing her. His arms wrapped around her smaller frame, his chin rested on her forehead.

She broke apart from the embrace, and gave him a confused look. "What are you doing here? Why are you here now?"

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean? I came here because I wanted to see you, and Amroth—"

A sudden commotion in the courtyard stopped them both. Someone's horse was trotting and neighing, one of the marchwardens was shouting orders in Silvan, and the Nandorin folk whispering amongst each other. Then, Orophin emerged from the corner of the palace, talking to an elf taller than he was. The newly-arrived elf raced towards them, his blue cape billowing in the cold evening air. His golden hair went past his shoulders, his strong arms and powerful build shouted that this elf was a warrior, and not just any random warrior.

"Glorfindel!" Erynlith immediately called and went to him, forgetting that someone else was with her.

Upon hearing his name, Glorfindel smiled and admitted her into his warm embrace. He lifted her face with both hands and kissed her forehead.

Feeling rejected, Thranduil growled as the scene unfolded before him.

"I heard what happened," Glorfindel said and continued to look at her face and arms. Then, he embraced her again. "I should never have let you leave. I should have come with you and protected you. I am so sorry, Eryn."

Erynlith smiled against the soft fabric of his silver robe. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Everything is perfect now."

"Let me take you back into your chambers." Glorfindel took her hand and led her out of the field. "I heard you have not eaten or showered yet..."

Their voices faltered into the darkness. All that was left was the rushing of the river and the buzzing of the fireflies. Thranduil bit the corner of his mouth until it bled, and wiped it off with his sleeve. Frustration and anger welled up inside him; the feeling was too great that he could punch someone who approached him. Balling his fists and gritting his teeth, the King punched at the nearest tree and kicked hard at the grass. Bits of leaves and soil were flung onto the river.

He had never thought, in his thousands years of existence, that being second best was too painful to bear.

Next Chapter: Glorfindel Thranduil, Glorfindel Thranduil, or Glorfindel ≠ Thranduil? You decide!

Author's Notes: Yes, you read that right! Thranduil's back in the game! *throws confetti all around*

*Overlord Rousdower - Hiya, m'lord! Thranduil's good with drama for sure. And Glorfy? He needs to watch out! MUA HA HA HA!

*Lovitall - Thank you! I am so glad you enjoy the story! First meeting after thousands of years can be quite awkward. Thrandy needs to work hard to get past Glorfy, but we'll see!

*bettsam0731 - I hope it's about now, and that Thrandy doesn't pull the "Because it was real" line. XD

*Omorfi Enas - So far, Thrandy's not impressed with Glorfy. LOL.

*Drasna - The hype is real in you, my friend!

*Gremalor - Oh, yes. You noticed that, huh? Apparently she's too sad to singsong in the last chapter and in this one. Let's see if someone can make her sing in the next ;)

*Shiro Chan - Thank you so much! I'm not really good with comedic scenes but I'm very happy you like them! There's going to be more Thranduil and Glorfindel conflict in the next few chapters, so I hope you'll stick around :) And don't worry! We all need a bit of drama in our lives.

*Lord Illyren - You're right about the conflict about someone named Eryn! LOL. It might turn out in an easy way or the hard way... Knowing Thrandy, it could be the hard way. XD

*Saura9 - Feels, my friend. You are having feels. So yay Glorfy? Or Thrandy?

*Anita Mackiewics - So glad you like Erestor's character! Come to think of it, we haven't seen our favourite big brother for quite some time. I'll keep in mind to write him in. Thank you for the support!

*Carastein - Woah, from the beginning? That's wonderful! Thank you so much! I can see you're in Eryn/Glorfindel team. *evil smile* Nah, just kidding! :)