~ Lament ~
The fringes of the woodland had so far kept the army unseen, but now they stood a league from the remains of the once great Elven City of Amon Lanc.
Thranduil had not set foot upon the ruins in centuries. Not since the fateful night the city had been taken by Sauron's forces, leaving blood and despair in their wake amongst the bodies of the dead. In the carnage, he'd discovered his... Thranduil swallowed hard, trying to force her memory back into the depths of his mind, his heart.
"Ada?" Legolas murmured at his side, and too late, Thranduil was gazing into his warm questioning eyes. Her eyes. Lithriel. The name whispered through his soul.
"Your mother was born and grew up in the city of Amon Lanc." Thranduil replied, and for a long moment Legolas stared at him, so Thranduil continued. "It is where I first saw her, in a sunlit meadow of wildflowers, where deer grazed. She was fast asleep, and did not see me pass, or stop and behold her. I was riding alongside my father at the time and could not stop to ask her name." A smile played at his lips. "The second time I met her, I took her for a thief in the old palace and chased her down. She slapped me for my stupidity. She was in fact Princess Lithriel."
"Why ever would you presume her a thief?" Legolas's eyes were wide with wonder, and Thranduil wished he'd spoken more of Lith with him. He'd been a small Elfling when she had been lost to him. To them both.
"I caught her climbing in through a window. Granted, I was in her quarters. They were my old quarters before my father moved most our people to the caverns."
Legolas looked to want to ask more, but Tauriel had begun rallying the woodland army. "Will you join me in sneaking up on our enemy from behind?" He asked his son. Legolas looked away, searhing out Aerlaer, clearly torn.
"Aye, I will. But I will tell Aerlaer of my choice first." Legolas replied, and dismounting, jogged through the milling soldiers. Thranduil smiled after him, part of a heavy feeling lifting from his heart, only for another weight to squeeze tighter. What had Galadriel foreseen?
...
Aerlaer had led the horses aside, including Thranduil's Elk, instructing them to graze the sweet grass, rest, and await the army's return. From the corner of her eye, she saw Legolas jogging over. Her heart leapt, followed by the heavy plummet to the pit of her stomach, when she remembered how he'd greeted Tauriel.
"Aerlaer." He breathed out, and she held her ground, a little braver. She'd since shifted back to Elf form and tilted her gaze up to him. "My father has asked I join the Woodland army and take Dol Guldor from behind, through the woods." A frown pulled at her brows. She'd thought they'd be within sight, as always, during this battle. "Join me." His eyes pleaded.
"I..." She swallowed, turning to glance towards her grandparents and Haldir. Her cousins...
"Go with Legolas, young one, they will need your light from the woods. We'll be fine from the front."
"But Laenaneth?" Aerlaer panicked, not wishing to be out of sight of Legolas, but not ready to remain at his side, not ready to face him.
"His heart is pure, as it has always been." Galadriel's voice echoed in her mind.
"If you had only told me so yesterday..." Aerlaer grumbled back at her mentally. All the pain and anger might have been avoided.
"I was curious how you would handle the situation." Aerlaer narrowed her eyes as the response entered her mind. "And how Thranduil would intervene." Galadriel added. "Fight by Legolas's side, and once this is over, listen when he tries to speak his heart." Galadriel's words brooked no argument, and Aerlaer felt her ears heat at the small reprimand. "Even I need reminding to listen now and then." She added, gentler.
"I will." Aerlaer replied with a nod. Legolas cast her a sidelong glance, seeming to realise she had been having an entirely different conversation in her mind.
"Let's go then." Aerlaer declared out loud, and without waiting for Legolas, strode towards the Woodland King, ignoring the knowing smirk Thranduil shot her way.
"It is an honour to have you join us, Princess." He nodded in greeting. "A protégé of Glorfindel will be an asset on our side of the fortress. However, it is my commander you will both take direction from." Thranduil gestured to where Tauriel spoke with a large group of archers. Wonderful. Aerlaer clenched her teeth, knowing her hair sparked. Going with Legolas was in fact a terrible idea.
...
"Are you well, Tauriel?" Fael murmured for only her to hear.
"Focus on our destination only, Fael. We do not know how well we shall fare in this battle." She replied, trying to follow her own advice and ignore the unease crawling under her skin. The unease caused by having Princess Aerlaer currently running silently behind her, followed by Legolas.
Damn Thranduil was still playing his games with the Princess, and Tauriel was unsure why. He'd overrode her and assigned Aerlaer to cover Tauriel's back while they ran through this darker, poisoned part of the woodland.
Killing was not something Tauriel enjoyed but killing the enemy she had countless times. Right now, she'd take killing over the eerily silent footfalls of the elleth behind her, and the feel of her eyes upon her back.
"See there, Legolas." Thranduil spoke from behind. "That is the glade I first saw your mother." Tauriel looked to the wide glade, or what would have once been a beautiful glade. Now, the hollow was a tangle of fallen trees, and twisted vines, and no sunlight filtered through. Thranduil never spoke of the Queen. Never.
"When did you last set foot here?" The Princess asked, to Tauriel's surprise, in a soft, compassionate tone.
"Not since the enemy took the palace and hill. Not since we rescued all who surveyed the siege..."
"Including the Queen." Aerlaer said. "My mother once told me how you saved her."
"Your mother and Lith were dear friends." Thranduil replied.
"I did not know this." Legolas said, clearly surprised.
"Who do you think taught you to ride?" There was a touch of humour in Thranduil's voice. The entire conversation was bizarre to Tauriel. What had changed for the King to speak so openly?
"We've reached the foot of the hill." She called back, only loud enough for elven ears, slowing to a halt. There was no movement, but no... wait. Tauriel looked through the trees, to see a scant few orcs patrolling in the shadows.
"Shall we shoot them?" She startled, whirling on the Princess, who stood directly behind her.
"Elbereth!" she cursed under her breath, glaring at the other elleth. "Yes, we'll shoot them down."
"Or we could create a diversion on this side, so the enemy won't see the Lorien contingent knocking on their front door." The Princess replied, smirking.
"That is a terrible and dangerous idea." Tauriel hissed.
"I rather like it." Thranduil mused.
"My Lord, I do not wish to risk lives unnecessarily." She spoke back, stunned the King would agree to such madness.
"What do you suggest, Princess?" Thranduil outright ignored Tauriel's concern.
"Nothing dangerous, but why not use the woods to an advantage. Why not attack first from the trees? The enemy will be distracted and looking up at the boughs, and we may well be able to draw quite a few out to pick off in our own familiar environment."
Damn her, the plan had real merit. "Our familiar environment?" Tauriel questioned instead between clenched teeth. "You're not a Woodland Elf."
"So? I'll warrant I can scale a tree faster than you." The Princess challenged. Tauriel narrowed her eyes.
"Archers shall attack from the trees." Thranduil announced, and the command rippled behind him.
"Very well." Tauriel breathed out and turned away from the elleth. Not for the first time, wondering why, oh why, Legolas had decided she was his match?
...
The trees provided the ideal cover to pick off the visible orcs, and as the first arrows met their marks, chaos erupted on the mountain, a battle cry of growls and screeches, followed by a drum, not unlike the drums of Moria, when the enemy had awoken. And then, like ants from an anthill, black armour-clad orcs spilled from the ancient elven ruins at the foot of the mountain and into the woods.
"Fire!" Tauriel commanded, and Legolas let loose precise shots; his arrows whipping through the branches to find their marks. On the other side of the ancient oak, withered by the evil it grew near, Aerlaer's right arm was a blur, knocking and releasing arrows at an alarming rate. She would run out before her quiver had time to replenish itself. "Here." Legolas ripped his own arrows from his quiver and thrust them into hers. Anything to keep her in the safety of the trees a little longer before they would need to join the fray upon the ground. Arrowless, he leapt down, down, down, and into the skirmish below; sword drawn and glinting silver in the hill's shadow.
...
Magnificent. His son's every move was magnificent. Thranduil grinned, simultaneously beheading two orcs with his twin swords. Legolas wielded a single blade, a blade which blazed as pure as a moonbeam. The enemy screamed and ran from him, blinded by the light, defenceless to Thranduil's army. Further ahead, leaping nimbly amongst the crumbling ruins of Amon Lanc, blazed pure sunlight. Aerlaer.
Thranduil remembered the first time he'd encountered the Princess; a small elfling far from her herd, lost in the Greenwood. Her hair had scintillated pale gold, and now he thought about it, Legolas's had glowed on the night the Princess had stayed in the Royal Halls. Thranduil had thought it a trick of the moonlight.
Slicing an arc about his body, Thranduil felled more of the confused enemy, watching the Princess race back down to fight at Legolas's side. Legolas shot her a challenging smirk.
"Twenty-nine." He called to her, and those golden strands sparked copper.
"Twenty-four." Aerlaer grumbled a reply, running her own sword through an orc's neck.
"Thirty." Legolas outright laughed, hair streaming moonlight behind him as he slammed his blade into an orc either brave or stupid enough to rush at him.
"May I join this game?" Thranduil called out eagerly.
"No!" They yelled back simultaneously, taking on a small ogre who stumbled, in broken chains, towards them, egged on by whips from a dozen orc behind the beast.
"This one's mine." Legolas declared, spinning his sword. An arrow whistled over his head, imbedding itself deep between the ogre's eyes. It let out a bellow, stumbled and crashed forward, dead.
"You imp, they were still my arrows!" Aerlaer merely smirked at him, and picked off two more orc, before switching back to her blade; a blur of sunlight in her hands.
Another ogre, slightly larger and angrier than the firstly crashed down the hillside, pausing a moment, as too did the orcs. The hill trembled. Thranduil glanced up to the palace ruins; stones dislodging and beginning to tumble down. Was Galadriel going to take down the entire fortress?
A fear and an urge gripped his heart, his soul, so suddenly, and Thranduil raced up the hill; leaping from broken building to rotten wood, over and under crumbling bridges, dodging the rocks which fell; slaying any of the enemy in his way. His path was mostly clear, and he felt warmth at his back. Sunlight despite the shadow this side of the hill. Arrows flew over his head, clearing his way. The enemy fled now in utter panic from the ruins. The ruins Thranduil was intent on entering. He had to enter what remained of the ancient palace, his old home, Lithriel's old home, one last time.
...
The earth shook, and Aerlaer threw herself sideways, narrowly missing a careening ogre, who was not so nimble upon the shifting mountain. An orc screeched and she pirouetted, jabbing the arrow in her hand into a hollow eye socket. Scanning ahead, she cursed under her breath. King Thranduil had vanished. A cursory turn, and she saw Legolas, battling beside three other Greenwood elves, including Tauriel. She wanted to be the one guarding his back, but the way the King had raced towards the falling castle, something was amiss. Shoving an orc off the mountain, she leapt through the ruins, dodging falling debris, until she sighted a half-collapsed entrance.
The wooden pillars were rotted and splintered, the stone floor cracked, and in some places missing entirely. Once, the castle would have been a sight to behold. Now it was but a husk, tainted by evil. The scent of smoke touched her nose, but the clash of metal deeper in the castle walls, and screech of the enemy drove Aerlaer into the murky gloom.
Three orcs rushed her, and she barely missed the flash of one's jagged blade, while wrestling another over a ledge. She landed hard, gasping, the knife in her hand buried to the hilt in an orc's chest, her knees smarting from the impact. Above, she heard a cry of rage, or was it sorrow? Unable to leap back up to the above floor, she raced through the emptying castle, the smoke coming thicker, stones falling from above. She had to find Thranduil, before the whole castle came down on their heads. Sighting a crumbling stair, Aerlaer bounded up the remaining steps, following the infrequent sounds of elven swearing and swords clashing. She raced down a wide hall, where sunlight filtered in, alighting a wall of paintings. Familiar brown eyes had her skidding to a stop before one of the paintings. A young elleth, wearing a tiara, sitting under an oak witha book. "The Queen." Aerlaer whispered in wonder, easily recognising she was Legolas's mother.
An elven scream cut off her reverence, laced with shock and pain, and heart plummeting, Aerlaer ran towards it, swapping bow for sword.
...
Thranduil hissed, swinging a sword, keeping the five remaining orcs at bay. How dare they desecrate Lith's old chambers? He'd found seventeen holed up in her old quarters, tainting the memory of her youth with their filth and stench. Was it not enough their ilk had taken her from him? Blind rage had driven him to slaughter the first seven, but a searing burn to his side, and a sluggish haze bearing down on him had slowed his reflexes, and now the final five were proving harder to destroy. Two squealed, and fell away, revealing two young, elleth. Was one... Lith? Hope flared in his heart. No, he was seeing double. He shook himself, nearly missing his next parry against one of the remaining orcs. With a snarl, he lunged forward, impaling the monster. Thranduil kept lunging, falling forward, crashing to the rotting floor, and through it.
"Thranduil, get up!" Hands grasped him, shaking him. A sunlight haired elleth.
"Lith?" He murmured, blinking up at the figure, but no, sea blue eyes stared down urgently at him, the hair dimming from Summer to Autumn hues. "Aerlaer, what in Eru's name are you doing in here?" He demanded, pushing himself up.
"Saving your royal arse." She retorted, eyes darting away to his chest. Fabric tore, warm hands pressed against his throbbing side, and she cursed lowly. "They've got spider venom on their blades."
"That's new." Thranduil muttered, and groaning, made to stand, but collapsed.
"Who is carrying venom antidote?" He frowned at her question. "Name an elf, I'll find them." She implored.
"It's back at the camp..." Thranduil murmured, calculating just how far away camp was, blinking through a haze.
"Idiot Sindas!" She exclaimed, and grabbed at his cloak, blade gleaming.
"What in Ada are you doing, and don't you insult me, Noldor brat!" He shot back. His cloak she shredded to ribbons, and made fast work of binding about his wound.
"Why doesn't anyone carry antidote?"
"They do, they are." He replied, Galadriel's warning now ringing clear in his mind. "For the common brown spiders found in these parts." He let out a defeated sigh. "My symptoms seem to be those of the silver backed spider's venom."
"And there's antidote at the camp?" Thranduil nodded, grimacing as the ground shook, and dust and debris fell about them from above.
"Princess, you need to leave, the castle will fall any moment, the smoke thickens."
"What's the quickest way out?"
"The stairs, if they still all remain." Thranduil closed his eyes, resigning himself to his fate. "Tell Legolas, I... I have always loved him. Tell him... he is my greatest joy."
Hello everyone, thank you for all your lovely reviews since last time I updated. Hope you've all enjoyed a bit of Thranduil in this chapter. I had to put this chapter down for a bit, because of course, I devised this backstory between our fav Elven King and his late wife, who I've named Lithriel, in this tale. I confess, I had to write a couple backstory scenes to get rid of that itch to start another Tolkien fic! Maybe one day, Thrandy will get his own fic from me!
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