Author: Sadie Elfgirl PM
A tale of Thranduil's queen. His star of gold.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Tragedy - Chapters: 13 - Words: 46,984 - Reviews: 28 - Favs: 12 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 04-12-06 - Published: 01-09-06 - Status: Complete - id: 2745467
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Summary-A tale of Thranduil's queen. His star of gold.
Disclaimer- No money for me, don't own. Except for Elenlor. She is mine… my own…my precious…just kidding.:)
Just so everyone knows what this story is, this is kind of a history. My version of the Queen of Mirkwood, how she met Thranduil, their life together, and what happened to her. I start this out with Legolas being kind of young and foolish, and then it jumps to the past to where Thranduil met his wife. Most of this story will be harmless, cute and fluffy, but towards the end there is some SERIOUS angst. Much unhappiness.
"What did you think you were doing?" The deep, angry tones echoed in the stunned silence of the healing wing. Healers and wounded alike flinched at the sound, thanking the Valar that the King of Mirkwood's anger was not directed at them.
Ironically the one at whom it was directed did not seem overly concerned. The young elf sat on the edge of a bed, allowing one of the healers to tend to a bleeding cut across his forehead. The cut was not his only injury, nor was it his worst. There was a sizeable gash down his side and several other lesser wounds.
Thranduil's eyes burned as he glared at the elf. The young one was careful to keep his features downcast, a chastened look upon his face. Thranduil was not fooled. He could see the smile lurking in the depths of the blue eyes. He caught the twitching of the elf's mouth as the young one struggled not to laugh. It enraged him. "Well?" he demanded icily.
"I apologize, Ada," Prince Legolas sounded most contrite, but a gleam in his eyes betrayed him. "It was a mistake, and will not be repeated."
"A mistake! Legolas, you and Halden could have been killed! You almost were!" Thranduil suppressed the initial urge to strangle his offspring. It was not even the injuries themselves that ignited the fair king's wrath. It was the reckless manner in which they had been obtained, and the flippant attitude his son showed towards the whole business.
It had been a dare. A dare for the love of the Valar! Legolas and his companion, Halden had slipped into the woods and sought out a nest of Mirkwood's spiders because they had been dared to. The sheer stupidity of such an action made Thranduil want to grind his teeth. Both young elves had returned wounded. Legolas' injuries were slightly more severe than Halden's, but, fortunately, neither ones were deadly. Legolas should be able to leave the healing wing as soon as his head was dealt with.
"I am sorry, Ada," Legolas repeated. "Truly, we were not in such great danger. We had our weapons, and we have both been trained to fight."
"Legolas, there is a difference between fighting to protect our home and needlessly throwing yourself into the path of danger! Had you been injured while on patrol, or during a battle that I had ordered, I would not be angry." The fair elf paused for a moment to glare at his son. "But there was no need for this!" Thranduil drew in a deep breath, trying hard to calm himself. Why did his son do things like this? What had he done to be so cursed? Frustration mounted with something almost close to despair as he gazed at Legolas. His unusual blond hair hung around the prince's fair face in sweaty tangles, the normally neat braids frayed. His blue eyes twinkled despite the severity of his scolding. Thranduil felt his anger ebb slightly as he looked into his son's eyes. Why could the boy have his mother's eyes, yet inherit none of her personality traits?
The pain that always followed thoughts of his wife threatened to crush the Elvenking's heart. He tried to push it away, but it was too closely connected to the true reason behind his anger at his son. Perhaps he should tell him…could he stand to? Could he bear to share the knowledge he had carried for so many years? Maybe it would make Legolas see just how precious his life really was…
"It was just for fun, Ada," Legolas' voice broke through the King's musings with the force of a lightning bolt. Thranduil was literally shocked into complete dumbness…and Legolas continued on, not noticing the look that spread across his father's face. "After all, what is there but to enjoy life? If I die, I die."
A nightmare shred of memory floated through the King's consciousness.
Blue eyes stared up at him, bright in a face that was pale with pain. Blood flecked lips moved, forming words even as he tried to silence them. "He will live."
"Yes," Thranduil could not tear his gaze away from those eyes, begging…pleading with their owner to stay. "He will live."
The lips curled into the faintest of smiles.
The blue eyes closed into the sleep that should never fall upon the firstborn.
"Ada?" Legolas' voice was suddenly uncertain as he addressed his father. A startling change had come over the king. The prince very nearly shrank back in alarm. He could not remember seeing his parent more angry than he was at the moment.
"You," Thranduil's voice was taut. Stretched to the breaking point with a deep and terrible rage. The king's hand raised and for one frightening moment, it seemed as though he would strike his son. Time seemed to slow. With a very visible effort, Thranduil turned his clenched fist into a pointing finger. And as he leveled the finger at the young elf, his hand shook. "You do not know what your life has cost!"
Legolas' mouth dropped open in shock and hurt as he watched his father turn and stalk out of the healing wing.
Thranduil slammed the door to his study with unnecessary vehemence, his eyes still smoldering. Grief threatened to overwhelm him, making him angrier than ever. He did not mean to say such unkind things to his son, but how dare he! After what had been sacrificed for him how dare he treat his own life in such an offhand manner!
Agitated, the fair elf paced the room, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. It was not all Legolas' fault, he realized gradually. He did not know what had been done. Thranduil had never told him.
With a sigh of frustration the Elvenking flung himself almost violently into his chair. He should have told his son long ago. He should have told him at the time…but the pain had been too fresh. It had nearly destroyed him, and Legolas was the only thing that had kept him from Valinor's shores. Over the years the razor sharp grief had dulled to an ache, but he still found himself unable to share with his son what had transpired. Part of him half believed that once the words were spoken the pain would return to its fullest. Then, Legolas as well as himself would be swept away with it.
The other part believed that unless he kept the memory shut tightly, she would fade from his heart and from his mind.
Her. Elenlor. The Queen of Mirkwood. His wife.
The other half of his heart and soul.
Thranduil shut his eyes tightly as her image rose in his mind. Slender, her golden head bright amongst Mirkwood's dark haired elves. A more fitting name her parents could not have chosen for her. Elenlor. Star of gold. His star. She had been beautiful with a beauty that sprang from a sweet and loving nature as well as her outward appearance.
It had been so long since he had sat and thought of her. Yet she was always near his thoughts. Though she had been gone so long, sometimes he half expected to hear her voice lifted in song, or the soft sound of her small feet coming to fetch him to bed.
Then the pain would tear at his heart anew as he realized she would never be there again.
"Elenlor…" the name fell from his lips almost without his knowledge. With her name came memories of long, long ago.
Thranduil leaned back against one of Mirkwood's mighty trees, sighing deeply. It was not often enough that he managed to break free of his retainers and counselors, and simply walk in his own realm.
A shadow of old sorrow passed over the Elvenking's face as he gazed around him. He was far from his palace, and Mirkwood was dangerous and dark where he rested. It grieved him. His people fought against the encroaching darkness, but little by little, he feared the evil would spread until all that was once fair in his kingdom would be devoured.
Some of his elves still called their home Greenwood, but more and more did he hear the name 'Mirkwood' whispered in his halls. It was, he realized as he started walking again, rather fitting.
Very few were the shafts of sunlight that managed to creep through the tangle of leaves and branches in this part of the forest. Mirkwood indeed.
In disgust, the blond elf kicked at a fallen branch. It was coated in the sticky cobwebs that seemed to be draped from every tree. Worse than almost anything else were the spiders that left behind this adhesive agent. A scowl darkened his fair features. Not all the spiders were in the woods…if it was not enough that his home was falling into shadow, there were those in his own courts who would seek to lay the blame on his shoulders. Fortunately, they were not many, nor did they seem to be growing. But they were enough to set his teeth on edge and fray at the corners of his nerves.
Thranduil quickened his pace. He had stayed too long… now his advisors would be looking for him. A grin quirked at his lips momentarily. He would get the long lecture on how he was not supposed to leave without guards…
A soft sound caused the elf's head to snap to his right, his hands leaping to the hilts of his long knives.
The Elvenking crept towards the noise, his knives held at the ready.
Before him lay a small clearing, the type his people used for celebrations, or just merrymaking. Their own small way of thwarting the darkness that crept into their home.
Surprisingly, a rather large patch of sunlight illuminated this particular feasting ground.
And there, in the sunlight was the source of the sound the fair king had followed.
Thranduil could only stare, his knives hanging loosely from his hands.
An elf maid danced in the clearing.
Her hair was long, and unbound, falling past her waist. More than blond it was golden, so much so that Thranduil expected to see the sunlight reflect off of it. She was clothed in a white gown, leaving her graceful arms bare, the long skirt whispering around her unshod feet.
Carefully, he resheathed his weapons. She should not be out here alone…so far from the safer regions of the forest. He stepped forwards into the clearing at the exact moment that the maid's dance turned her face in his direction.
For a moment, it seemed as though time had frozen.
She gasped, obviously startled. In the blink of an eye, she turned on her heel and fled into the gloom.
For a moment, Thranduil could only stare after her in bewilderment. What had just happened…?
Suddenly… The Elvenking sprang forwards in pursuit as he realized what direction the elfmaid had taken. " Wait!" He could see her ahead, the white of her gown and the gleam of her hair standing out in the shadow of the mighty trees. " I won't hurt you!"
Unheeding, she sped onwards.
The elf growled softly and increased his speed. He had to stop her. The woods only became darker and more dangerous the further they went…
The elfmaid spared a moment to glance over her shoulder.
Thranduil saw her peril and cried out, trying to warn her.
With a horrible snapping sound, the earth beneath her feet gave way. She disappeared; falling swiftly into the trap.