Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess

Author's Note: Incorporating Tauriel into this fanfiction serves to bring a unique perspective to the narrative. While Tauriel is a character created by Peter Jackson, her presence in this story adds a fresh dimension to the interactions and dynamics among characters. As the Captain of Thranduil's Elven Guard, she offers a valuable viewpoint, one that challenges the traditional Elven beliefs and strategies.

I: Prologue

Act IV: Shadows of Concern: Thranduil's Lament

Mirkwood, 3019 TA, March 25 - 30

In the heart of Mirkwood, the once-majestic realm of the Elvenking Thranduil had become a place shrouded in sorrow and despair. The darkness that had been unleashed with Sauron's return hung heavy in the air, casting long and foreboding shadows over the once-vibrant forest. Thranduil, the Elvenking, stood as a solitary figure amid the ancient trees, his heart heavy with the weight of his losses.

The memory of his beloved wife, the Queen of Mirkwood, was a source of both solace and deep sadness for Thranduil. In the quiet moments, when the weight of his responsibilities and the darkness that surrounded him pressed upon his soul, his thoughts often turned to her. Her image would come to him unbidden, her gentle smile and graceful presence etched vividly in his mind.

She had been his confidante, his partner in both joy and sorrow. Their love had been a beacon of light in a world that was growing ever darker. She had been the one to soothe his worries and share in his triumphs. The sound of her laughter had been like music to his ears, a melody that had once filled the halls of their woodland realm.

But now, she was gone, taken from him by the relentless advance of the darkness. Her absence left a void in Thranduil's heart that nothing could fill. The pain of her loss was a constant ache, a reminder of the cost of this unending battle.

In the stillness of the night, when the stars barely pierced the thick canopy of Mirkwood, Thranduil would sometimes wander the halls of his palace alone. He would visit the chamber that had once been theirs, where her scent still lingered in the air, and traces of her presence could be found in every corner. It was a place of bittersweet memories, where he could feel her presence most keenly.

In those moments, his grief was overwhelming. He would speak to her as if she were still there, recounting the events of the day and seeking her counsel, even though he knew she could not answer. He would trace his fingers along the intricate carvings she had made on the walls, each one a testament to her artistic skill and her love for their realm.

But as the dawn approached, he would leave that chamber behind, carrying the weight of his sorrow with him. There were battles to be fought, decisions to be made, and a realm to defend. Thranduil knew that his wife would have wanted him to be strong, to protect their people, and to stand against the darkness.

And so, with her memory as both a source of comfort and a wellspring of sadness, the Elvenking continued to lead his people, determined to honor her legacy and ensure that her sacrifice was not in vain.

But there was another source of anguish that weighed on Thranduil's mind, a name that lingered unspoken in the depths of his thoughts—Legolas. His son, his pride, and his joy had left to inform Elrond about Gollum and his only son ended up joining the Fellowship of the Ring, a quest that had taken him far from the safety of Mirkwood. Thranduil's heart ached with worry for Legolas, for he had not heard from his son in far too long. The uncertainty gnawed at him, and he longed for news of his beloved child.

While Thranduil was aware that Legolas had willingly forsaken his princely title, opting for a different journey, he remained the sole surviving member of his family. Legolas served as the compelling reason for Thranduil's enduring presence in Middle-earth, even in the face of overwhelming darkness and suffering. Thranduil's regret lay in his failure to fully open his heart and communicate his innermost emotions and thoughts to his son.

Thranduil's world had not changed with the darkness; it had merely intensified. The forest around him was a realm of perpetual twilight, where the sun rarely pierced the thick canopy, and the air was heavy with an unnatural chill. His people, the Woodland Elves, had become fierce defenders of their home, but the constant battles took their toll. Thranduil knew that the darkness was relentless, and he could not afford to let his guard down.

In these dark times, the Elvenking saw two paths ahead. The first was to continue defending Mirkwood with unwavering determination, to stand as a beacon of resistance against the encroaching shadow. The second was to open channels of communication with races he had long held in disdain—humans and dwarves. Thranduil understood that this darkness was unlike any other, and Middle-earth had to unite in the face of this existential threat.

Though he harbored deep-seated prejudices against humans and dwarves, the Elvenking knew that old alliances had to be rekindled. He would have to seek counsel with them, set aside his personal biases, and work towards a common goal—the preservation of Middle-earth.

In the days that followed, Thranduil made his intentions clear. He would send emissaries to the human city of Dale and the dwarven halls of Erebor, seeking meetings and alliances. It was a difficult decision for him, for he had long distanced himself from these races, but the gravity of the situation demanded unity.

As Thranduil spent most of his time on the frontlines, battling the dark forces that sought to consume Mirkwood, he could not help but feel a sense of urgency. The fate of his realm, his people, and his son hung in the balance. The Elvenking would do whatever it took to ensure that Mirkwood did not fall to the darkness, even if it meant forging uneasy alliances and confronting his own prejudices.

In the heart of Mirkwood, amidst the ever-encroaching darkness, Thranduil's resolve burned brighter than ever. The Elvenking, once a ruler of isolation, now understood the necessity of unity in the face of a threat that knew no bounds. Middle-earth had to stand together, or it would fall apart. And Thranduil was determined to be a driving force behind that unity, for the sake of his realm, his people, and the hope of a brighter future.

In the dimly lit chambers of the Woodland Realm, Thranduil, the Elvenking, sat in contemplation. He was no stranger to solitude, and his long years of rule had forged a sense of regal wisdom that was often shrouded in an air of detachment. Yet, since the Battle of the Five Armies and the return of Tauriel, the former captain of his Elven Guard, his court had witnessed a subtle but significant transformation.

Tauriel had become one of Thranduil's few trusted confidants. Their conversations delved into the gravest of matters, as Thranduil sought to embrace a different perspective on the challenges that lay before them. These discussions were not without their moments of contention, for Tauriel's viewpoints were often bold and unconventional, occasionally straying into uncharted territory.

They would clash in debates, their words sharp and impassioned. Tauriel's ideas were fresh, her daring approach sometimes leading her down the path of incorrect conclusions. Yet, in the midst of these intellectual battles, there were moments when Tauriel's insights would illuminate Thranduil's understanding, offering a glimpse of a different way to address their problems.

It was not a seamless process, for Thranduil was a high elf with an intricate web of political and military strategies that had served him well for centuries. He possessed a deep connection with the forest and its creatures, those that had not yet succumbed to the encroaching darkness. His wisdom ran deep, and his intuition was finely tuned, honed over countless ages.

However, the Battle of the Five Armies had left its mark on the Elvenking. Each day brought subtle changes, a gradual erosion of the barriers that had defined him for so long. He found himself increasingly open-minded, resisting the pull of darkness and arrogance that had once been an integral part of his character—a legacy inherited from his father and, to some extent, passed on to Legolas.

Thranduil's pride in this transformation was undeniable. As he sat with Tauriel, their voices rising and falling in the chamber, they grappled with the stark reality of Sauron's victory and the ever-darkening shadow that loomed over Middle-earth.

Tauriel, her eyes ablaze with conviction, argued passionately for a more proactive stance, suggesting that they seek out new alliances and explore unconventional strategies to counter the encroaching darkness. Thranduil, though initially resistant, found himself drawn into the discourse. He countered with the strengths of their realm, their ancient knowledge, and his own unparalleled connection to the forest.

Their debates would continue long into the night, the echoes of their voices a testament to their commitment to finding a way forward. While they disagreed on many points, they found common ground in their shared determination to protect their realm and its people.

In the midst of their discussions, as the candlelight flickered and shadows danced on the chamber walls, Thranduil and Tauriel discovered a growing camaraderie—a bond forged in the crucible of uncertainty and despair. They were two elves from different worlds, each with their unique perspectives, but united by a common purpose: to defy the darkness and stand as a beacon of hope in a world that had lost its way.

Tauriel, her fiery red hair framing her determined face, leaned forward in her chair. "My lord," she began, her eyes unwavering, "we cannot afford to remain idle as Sauron's shadow engulfs Middle-earth. We must seek out new alliances, and form bonds with races we have long kept at arm's length. Our realm may be hidden, but we cannot isolate ourselves any longer."

Thranduil, his regal bearing contrasting with the intensity of their discussion, raised an eyebrow. "You propose alliances with humans and dwarves, Tauriel? Do you not remember the distrust and enmity that has often marred such endeavors in the past?" the Elvenking questioned, although he already had decided that old and new alliances should be sought. Though he would not easily admit to that.

Tauriel's gaze held a steely resolve. "I do, my lord, but the world has changed. Sauron's victory has altered the playing field. We cannot face this darkness alone, and we must look beyond our past grievances."

Thranduil sighed, his demeanor softening as he considered Tauriel's words. "You make a compelling argument, Captain. Perhaps it is time to revisit old alliances and seek common ground for the greater good."

Their dialogue was punctuated by moments of disagreement and understanding, as they explored the intricacies of their strategy. Thranduil, in his wisdom, offered insights into the strengths of their realm—the knowledge of the forest, their ability to communicate with nature, and the resilience of the Woodland Realm.

Tauriel, her voice earnest, pushed for a more proactive stance. "My lord, we must act swiftly. Sauron's reach extends far, and his forces grow with each passing day. We must not wait until the darkness is at our doorstep."

Thranduil nodded, acknowledging the urgency of the situation. "Tauriel, the darkness is already at our doorstep. However, we shall explore these alliances and forge new paths. But we must also remain vigilant here in Mirkwood. The darkness surrounds us, and our people rely on our leadership."

Their dialogue shifted to a more somber note as they spoke of Legolas, the prince who had ventured far from their realm. Tauriel's eyes betrayed a hint of sorrow as she said, "My lord, we have not heard from Legolas in many months. I fear for his safety. He is a capable warrior, but Sauron's reach is vast."

Thranduil's expression mirrored her concern for a long moment before his cold demeanor would show. "I share your concerns, Tauriel. Legolas is my son, and his absence weighs heavily on my heart. However, it's clear that Legolas has chosen his own path, one that has diverged significantly from Mirkwood."

"Are you not worried at all? How can you remain so composed after the knowledge of Sauron's victory?" Tauriel's voice quivered with concern as she expressed her deep worry to her trusted friend. Her eyes betrayed the anxiety that gnawed at her. "Legolas isn't out there alone. He's following Aragorn, and he'll be at the forefront of those who'll face Sauron's wrath. If he hasn't faced it already."

Thranduil lapsed into a contemplative silence, his brows furrowing as he grappled with the harsh truth that Tauriel had spoken. He knew her words held undeniable weight. However, he felt the weight of helplessness crushed him as well. He wished he could abandon everything and rush to rescue Legolas, but the futility of such an endeavor was painfully evident. The encroaching darkness threatened to envelop everyone, including Legolas. There was no sanctuary left to bring his son to safety. Their only recourse was to confront it, to stand resolute until they could stand no more.

The plan to wage a battle against Sauron had been formed, but Thranduil harbored a somber conviction that this battle was destined for defeat. As long as the Dark Lord possessed the One Ring, victory remained an unattainable dream. The reality was stark: there was no place in Middle-earth untouched by Sauron's malevolence as long as he and the Ring endured. The relentless tide of darkness seemed inevitable, and the future was shrouded in despair.

As they discussed Legolas, the bond between Thranduil and Tauriel grew more apparent. They were united not only by their concern for their prince but also by their determination to confront the darkness that threatened their world. Their voices, once filled with disagreement, now resonated with a shared purpose—a commitment to protect their realm and defy the encroaching shadow of Sauron.

Later the same night Thranduil carried himself along the long and dark corridors until he found himself outside their bed-chamber. He opened the door and stepped inside the forgotten chamber. The room was steeped in an eerie silence that seemed to echo with the melancholic resonance of memories long past. It was as if the very walls of the chamber absorbed the sadness, mirroring the profound loss that had befallen Thranduil's Woodland Realm. Queen Orlinna, once the radiant heart of their home, had departed from the mortal realm, leaving behind a void that could never be filled. Her presence lingered in every corner, in the gentle rustle of curtains and the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the windows.

Thranduil stood in the midst of this somber chamber, its ethereal beauty a testament to the enduring legacy of his beloved wife. The moonlight bathed everything in a silvery glow, casting delicate patterns of light and shadow upon the room's intricate elven design. The air held a faint fragrance of woodland blossoms, a reminder of the queen's love for the natural world she had adored.

With a heavy heart, the Elvenking approached the grand bed that had once cradled moments of profound joy and shared dreams. Now, it stood as a silent witness to his solitude, a stark reminder of the life he had cherished with Orlinna. He sat down, his graceful figure silhouetted against the moonlit room, his thoughts drifting to the events that had transpired.

"Sauron has claimed the Ring," Thranduil whispered, his voice filled with a poignant mixture of sorrow and fear. He knew that this was a night of reckoning, and his concerns weighed heavily upon him. "Legolas is too close to the impending battle, and it fills me with worry."

His words hung in the air, a forlorn conversation with a presence he could feel but not touch. Orlinna, his beloved queen, remained forever silent in death, yet her essence lingered in the very fabric of their chamber. Thranduil could almost envision her by his side, her eyes filled with understanding and empathy, as they had been in life.

"Tonight, I do not wear the mantle of a king," Thranduil continued his voice barely above a whisper. "I wear the mantle of a father, fraught with concern for our son. Legolas is strong and capable, a prince and a warrior, but the darkness we face is unlike any other. I find solace in the memory of his strength, but I cannot help but fear for his safety."

The room seemed to echo with the unspoken sentiments, the very air thick with the sadness that enveloped him. Thranduil's gaze drifted to a portrait of his wife, her regal beauty frozen in time. He longed for her wisdom, her counsel, and her comforting presence in these troubled times. With a heavy heart, he whispered, "I miss you, my queen. Your guidance was my strength, and your love was my solace. Tonight, I pray that Legolas finds the strength to face this darkness, for he carries your spirit within him."

As the candle flames flickered, casting dancing shadows on the walls, the room remained a silent witness to the elvenking's grief and hope, a place where the past intertwined with the present, and the weight of responsibility as a father and ruler pressed heavily upon him.

((Upcoming Act Five))

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