Tear the Mountains Down

Thranduil hardly left Caladhel's side from the moment he stepped upon the shore. Those few times he did were due to Oropher or Brandil forcefully dragging him across the hall to introduce him to other guests of King Thingol's court. Caladhel knew he tolerated their intrusion due solely to his overwhelming joy at having them once more alive at his side. Had anyone else attempted to part them this day, they would have been met with violence.

Thranduil stood now in conversation with his father and Prince Ionwë, but his gaze shifted time and again back to his wife. Caladhel reassured him of her attention with a smile each time she caught his eye. It was a small gesture, but it seemed to give Thranduil strength enough to endure conversations with strangers he cared nothing for. Caladhel, likewise, did her best to feign interest in conversations with the other guests, but she, too, was growing impatient as she and Beleth made a circuit around the hall.

The feast had long since ended and the hour was growing late when Beleth tugged forcefully on Caladhel's arm, drawing her attention. "Look, they retire for the night." She gestured towards Thingol and Melian, who departed from the hall arm-in-arm as they watched.

A wave of relief washed over Caladhel. "I thought they would never leave."

"Now rescue Thranduil from that pointless conversation and get out of here." Beleth practically shoved Caladhel in the direction of her nephew.

Caladhel did not have to be convinced by anyone. She gave Beleth a quick peck on the cheek and crossed the room to join Thranduil.

Ionwë spied her first and he smiled and nodded in greeting as she approached. "Lady Caladhel, I assume you are here to collect your spouse."

Caladhel took hold of Thranduil's arm and nodded. "I was counting the seconds until King Thingol and his queen retired."

Both Oropher and Ionwë laughed despite knowing her words were not in jest.

"No doubt," Ionwë replied before turning his attention to Thranduil. "I look forward to continuing our conversation another time."

"As do I," Thranduil replied reflexively. At the moment he would not have cared if he never spoke to the Prince of Alqualondë again.

"Do try to get him to sleep some tonight, my daughter," Oropher said to Caladhel. "He looks like he has not rested since he set foot on the ship."

"I shall make every effort," Caladhel assured him. "Good night."

"Good night," Thranduil added, before Caladhel led him away.

Caladhel directed Thranduil to the guest apartment that had been arranged for them that night. She had stayed in the same one before and knew the shortest path from the hall to the door. They had barely crossed the threshold before she found herself in Thranduil's arms. He lifted her off the ground and with one careless kick, slammed the door shut behind them.

Thranduil kissed her hungrily, desperately, with all his centuries of want and need remembered. He had buried it all, the memory of her scent and the feel of her body in his arms. The memory of her had been too painful a thing to recall before this moment. And it was painful still, for a second emotion, more powerful than desire, washed over him now that he held her in his arms. Fear gripped his heart as he kissed her, a fear that she might not be real, a fear that she was real and might once more be taken from him. That fear caused him to clutch her tighter, to kiss her harder, until she cried out from the force of his grip on her shoulder and arm.

The sound startled him back to his senses. He freed her and stepped away, ashamed of having caused her pain. There were angry welts on her arm in the shape of his fingers. He knew they would leave a mark.

"I…"

Whatever words of apology he might have spoken were lost as a wave of anguish rose up from the depths where long ago he had buried it. He fell to his knees, weeping.

Caladhel reached out as he fell and cradled him to her chest as the walls came down around his heart, releasing a torrent of emotion he had denied purchase for so long. She held him fast, stroking his hair and rubbing his back in a slow circular motion. They stayed that way for some time, until his tears subsided and his breathing began to calm. Once she thought the wave receded, Caladhel pulled Thranduil to his feet and guided him to rest in an armchair beside the bed. There she took an undignified seat on his lap, set her head on his shoulder and continued to hold him. They sat silently for a time, holding one another, while Caladhel laid feather light kisses on his neck and chin to soothe him.

When at last Caladhel felt the rhythm of his breath and heart had steadied, she spoke to him. "I wish you could have allowed yourself to mourn me, instead of carrying this pain for so long."

Thranduil shook his head. "If I had allowed myself to cry for you, I would never have stopped. I wanted so much to join you in death, but I could not leave him alone."

Caladhel sat up a little straighter and tipped Thranduil's chin to hers. She could see the truth of it in his eyes. He had chosen to lock the pain away for Legolas' sake. It was the choice Thranduil had always feared he might have to make — between his wife and his son. She would not have wanted him to choose any differently.

Caladhel stroked his face with her fingers. "I wish I could have been there to help you raise him."

"I did the best I could," Thranduil said.

Caladhel grinned at his unnecessary modesty. "And you raised a son who saved the world."

Her comment drew a snort of laughter. "He would say he played his part," Thranduil replied. "He has your humble nature."

"And my skill with a bow," she added cheekily.

"That, too."

Caladhel laughed lightly, before leaning in close for a kiss. Unlike their last, this kiss was not marred by fear. Thranduil kissed her with no less passion, but the desperation was gone. They were there, together, renewing the memory of each other. His hands rose to cradle her face before he drew away and she watched him as he traced the line of her jaw with the tips of his fingers.

Thranduil found nothing out of place. Every inch of her looked and felt the same as it had the last time he held her in his arms. But she was not the same, not exactly. He had never touched this form before. This was Caladhel reborn. The Caladhel who bore his son had died somewhere in the mountains, her body crumbled to dust. That thought would haunt him forever, no matter how warm and alive her skin now felt beneath his fingers.

"I would have come for you. I would have torn the mountains down."

Caladhel laid her hands on those cradling her face. She drew them downward and pressed them to her heart. "I know it."

"Then why?"

Caladhel had known he would ask her this question. It was the question that forever haunted his waking hours and dreams, and long ago she had articulated an answer. "Do you remember what you told me before we were wed? You said you could not put your own desires before your duty as King of Greenwood."

Thranduil nodded. "I remember."

"I knew you believed it then," said Caladhel, "but I also knew you could not have set me aside, not while hope remained. They would have used that hope to destroy you, to destroy our people. I could not allow that to happen."

Thranduil could not find the will to argue with her. Caladhel was right. If there had been any hope, any hope at all, he would not have had the will to stop, not even if Greenwood and her people were lying in ruin. He would have sacrificed them all to win her back. He did not need Caladhel or Galadriel's mirror to tell him this. He knew it in his heart. Roewen was all the proof he required.

"I almost killed her when she returned to Limrond without you," Thranduil confessed. "Haldor held me back. Feren and Faentôr, too. If they had not had the courage to subdue me, I would have broken her neck."

Caladhel had witnessed the scene he spoke of during her time in Mandos. She wished she could have spared Roewen her king's wrath, and Thranduil his guilt and shame for it, too, but she could do neither. All she could do was offer her understanding. "Roewen knew the price she would pay for obeying me, and she did so willingly, for us, for our son."

Thranduil closed his eyes against the memory of that moment, of the sound of her bones cracking and the feel of her throat in his hands. "The darkness I had believed was banished forever returned the moment your light was taken from me."

"No," said Caladhel, forcefully. "You are wrong. You were the light in the darkness."

Thranduil opened his eyes to find her own burning defiant. "How can you say that?" he asked.

"After all this time, can you not see yourself as I do? You survived dragon-fire, the wars with Morgoth and Sauron. You are the longest reigning king in Middle-earth. You held back the darkness that would spread across the world, and you did so by your own will and power, without a ring, without a mirror, with no trick or magic learned at the feet of the Valar. And all of this you chose, when there was another choice you could have made – to sail and be free of the burden."

Thranduil was silent for some time as he contemplated her words. He could find little fault in her argument, save for one detail. "I do believe Thingol reigned longer than I did, adjusted for solar time."

Caladhel rolled her eyes at his unsurprising attempt to argue with her. "He had a Maia at his side," she countered, "and he lasted a mere five centuries once Middle-earth descended into war."

Thranduil laughed at her pointed retort. "Shall I tell him you said that?"

Caladhel warned him off the idea with a look. "Best not," she said. And gesturing to their room, added, "At the very least, wait until we are no longer guests in his house."

Thranduil agreed with a nod before resting his forehead against hers. "I have not the words to express my joy at your return."

"Words are unnecessary," said Caladhel. She rose from the chair, pulling him up along with her. "Come, now. You have a promise to keep."

"What promise is that?" he asked.

Caladhel slid her hands beneath his outer robes and slipped them off his shoulders before tackling the tiny hooks of his tunic. "You promised me a daughter when I returned. I have been waiting for over two centuries."

Thranduil pulled off his tunic and tossed it aside before aiding Caladhel with her attire. "We are out of practice," he lamented.

"I am sure you will remember the steps," Caladhel said upon shedding her dress. "And if we should fail the first time, we can always try again."

He drew her back towards him, his hands coming to rest on the familiar curve of her hips. "Indeed. And after, I look forward to celebrating our success."

"I promised your father you would get some sleep tonight," Caladhel reminded him.

"No," he countered, "you promised you would try to get me to sleep. You made no mention of how you might accomplish the task. If I recall rightly, creating new life can be quite fatiguing."

"Then stop arguing with me," said Caladhel, "so I may keep my word before dawn." She laced her hands behind his neck and drew him down into a kiss meant to silence him.

Thranduil needed no further encouragement. He lifted her up and carried her off to bed.

A/N: I thought Thranduil needed a good cry before he'd be in the proper mindset for creating life. Caladhel has been waiting a while for that daughter he promised her!