#isilriel

Chapter XXI (EXT): The Best of Sons (Part VIII/c) 

“Not long after Aragorn left us, life returned to form. Aradúlin had given birth to a daughter much to the chagrin of Aranduil; now old enough to voice his thoughts rather loudly much to my amusement. Though I worried about Súlelenth as her time grew near, Êlúriel reassured everyone that she was in good spirits and stronger than expected. I saw otherwise in her eyes but said  nothing to her as I went about my duties.

As I spoke with Fëaluin one day in the hall, I felt a tug on my robe. I looked down to see Aranduil—his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Yes,” I asked. “What is the matter, Aranduil?”

“Up,” he demanded. I looked at Fëaluin trying hard not to laugh. I bent down and picked Aranduil up.

“You are up,” I said. “Is there something the matter?”

“You cannot hear me down there,” he said. “You are taller than I am.”

Fëaluin started to laugh.

“Well, I can hear you quite well now,” I answered. “What is it you want to say?”

“Why are there so many girls,” he asked genuinely concerned. “There are too many girls.”

“I do not understand,” I said.

“Nana had a girl now uncle says there is another.”

“I do not understand, Aranduil,” I said. “Another girl?”

“Yes,” he said sternly. “Êlenuil said there is another one now.”

Fëaluin and I looked at each other—our faces racked with concern. Before we could say another word, Ëariâth arrived.

“There you are, Aranduil,” she said. “Why did you wonder off?”

He looked at me then looked at her defiantly.

“He is the king,” he said.

“Aranduil tells me there is another girl,” I said as Ëariâth took him from me. 

“Súlelenth has given birth, yes?”

“Yes,” she said smiling. “She is faring rather well.”

“You have seen her,” Fëaluin asked.

“Of course. Someone must keep watch over Nenduîl and Tárimë—never mind this one.”

“Aranduil,” he said frowning. “I am Aranduil.”

“Yes, I know,” Ëariâth answered, flustered.

“Êlúriel is with her,” I asked.

“I was,” a voice said from behind us. Êlúriel walked toward me smiling.

“If you will pardon us,” Ëariâth said making a quick courtesy and going on her way.

“I shall see about Eldôr,” Fealuin said as he bowed and took his leave.

“How is Súlelenth,” I asked. “You are smiling. Shall I think her well?”

“You may,” Êlúriel said. “She is resting now. You may see her when she rises.”

“And the child,” I asked. “Aranduil has expressed his discontent on the arrival of another girl.”

“Did he,” she said, laughing. “He will have to accept that his new cousin is a darling little girl as his sister Auríel.”

“What will I call Súlelenth’s child?”

“Eärluin,” she answered. “She looks very much like her mother.”

“And you and Ëariâth say she is well,” I asked once more.

“As well as one can after such an ordeal.”

“Well, I know better than to presume what the fairer of us goes through,” I began. “I have been married long enough to know not to ask either.”

Êlúriel smiled at me.

“You have learned something after all these years,” she said.

“I share my chambers with you,” I began. “It is far more pleasant when I do not have to win a disagreement."

**** **** **** ****

It was nearing the end of Autumn—a few days short of Lasselanta—two years later that news would come from Rivendell. In my study, I sat alone reading when the doors opened. I did not see anyone enter, but I had my suspicions.

“Is that you, Eärluin,” I asked. 

A small child appeared peeking around my table—a head full of earthen curls and green eyes. She made her way over to me for me to take her and set her on my lap. Since she had begun to walk, she seemed wander into my study often. I continued reading as Eärluin leaned into my chest observe. Just then,  Fëaluin and Eldôr entered.

“A messenger just arrived from Rivendell,” Fëaluin said handing me a small note affixed with the seal of Rivendell. I opened it and began to read. When I was done, I put it down.

“Where is this messenger,” I asked. “Does he remain with us?”

“Yes,” Eldôr answered. “He awaits outside the doors.”

I nodded and Fëaluin waved to the guards. The doors opened and into the room came a familiar face.

“Your Majesty,” he said as he bowed to me. “It has been a long time.”

“Glorfindel,” I said. “It has been quite a long time.”

“I see you have been rather busy,” he said, referring to Eärluin sitting straight up on my lap and looking at Glorfindel with curiosity.

“You have word from Elrond,” I asked ignoring him. “It must be important if he sent it by you.”

“It is a matter of grave importance,” he said, his face falling. “You know of the awakening of evil once again in Mordor.”

“I do,” I answered. “Am I to guess that Aragorn told you of that hideous creature Gollum that escaped from my dungeons.”

“Not particularly,” he said. “But it is what that creature seeks that Sauron wants again he once lost.”

“I got nothing from Gollum of any worth,” I said. “If Elrond wants from me knowledge of what either of them seeks, your journey was for nought.”

“You read his letter,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Then you know what was asked of you,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Your answer is no,” he asked.

“My answer is not mine to give,” I said. “It will fall upon Legolas to decide.”

There was a painful silence that befell my study. The doors opened and Legolas entered with Mîráre.

“Ada, have you seen,” he began. “There she is.”

The two of them came to me and Mîráre took Eärluin from me. I stood up.

“Legolas, stay,” I said, motioning to Mîráre to leave. She could tell something was wrong and left quickly.

“What is it,” Legolas answered.

“Elrond has asked me to send someone to Rivendell,” I said. “He has asked me to give to a quest a prince of the realm. That would be you.”

Legolas seemed taken aback for a moment. He looked around the room curiously—looking at Glorfindel.

“Me,” he asked. “You would allow me to leave for such a quest?”

“I am afraid it is not up to me,” I said. “You are of age, Legolas. The decision must be yours to make.”

Legolas nodded, bowed and took his leave quickly.

“Rest, Glorfindel,” I said. “You will have your answer shortly. I know my son.”

He bowed and followed Fëaluin out the doors.

I sat down and turned my gaze to the thunderous falls beyond my balcony. “He wants to do this, Thranduil,” Eldôr said. “As he has always done before.”

“I know,” I said softly. “I will not keep him from it and neither will his mother. She spoke of his destiny long ago. It is his time now.”

**** **** **** ****

The morning Legolas would leave, every memory I had rose to the surface and flowed through me with great emotion. On this day, Êlúriel and I would stand before the gates of Mirkwood to say farewell to our son.

The walk to the gates seemed far too long and too quick. When I stepped into the first light of day, I could see Legolas with Elenadar, Elenatar, Tarthôn and Aruilos. They would escort Legolas to Rivendell and Tarthôn would return on his brother’s horse. When Legolas saw me, he ran to me. I could see the little boy he had been behind the elven prince he had become. His life was his own to live beyond what I had given him.

“I am ready, Father. Mother,” he said.

“I am not, I am afraid,” I said. “But you are no longer a child.”

“I remember many things,” Legolas said. “But none so wonderful as being your son.”

I could not say anything. I was aged, yet youth had not left my face or my stature diminished. It would be the same for most of the elves of Arda. Looking into the face of my son, I could see many things. I saw the newborn in my arms and now I was sending a man into a world that had yet to find itself at peace.

“I have done many things in my life, Legolas,” I began. “There are things I long to remember and things I wish to forget. I was given many things in my life. Born to a king, I became one. I loved the most beautiful of creatures and she gave me my greatest treasure. You. I have not always been the best of fathers, but I was given the best of sons. I am the King of Mirkwood, but I am first and always your father. That is my crowning glory. Return to us, Legolas.”

He embraced me and smiled. I knew I was crying. I knew that behind me on this day stood an kingdom watching the heir to its throne leave for Rivendell. I did not care what anyone thought--I was once again losing a part of my heart to this world that had taken from me so much.

“I will return, Ada,” he said smiling. “Nothing will keep me from you.”

I was taken by those words as they were what I had said once a long time ago to Êlúriel the night before I left for war. It was a promise I kept.

Êlúriel embraced him as tears rolled down her face.

“I am proud of you, my little Greenleaf,” she said.

Isílriel was next to embrace her brother.

“What will I do without you,” she asked.

“If I know my sister, you will get on without me for awhile,” he said. “Look after our family, Isílriel. Especially Tarthôn. Do not tell him I said that.”

She laughed and as she released Legolas and we watched him walk away.

I smiled. Fëaluin looked at me curiously.

“Why do you look at me, Fëaluin,” I asked. “Do I amuse you?"

“You have become the king your father always knew you would be.” 

Legolas mounted his horse. Elenadan and Elenatar would escort him to Rivendell. I watched my son ride away until I saw him no more. As the dusk began to fall upon Mirkwood, I knew that Legolas would return and my kingdom and all of Arda would be changed forever.”––TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil (EXT. VER.) by J. Marie Miller 12-08-17

Chapter XXI (EXT): The Best of Sons (Pt. VII/a)

“Morning crept upon the kingdom slowly. In the dark blue of twilight, I felt Êlúriel turn beneath the covers. Facing me, she smiled slightly as she moved closer to me and slipping into my arms. Her delicate skin was cool to the touch, sending a slight chill through me. We kissed as we found a moment to ourselves before the events of the day.

“Are you prepared for the day,” she asked. Her skin was warmer and flushed with color as I noticed the day had finally risen and the sun chased away the last remnants of night.

“I am now,” I said, kissing her forehead. “What of you?”

“I look forward to it, she answered. “I remember when we were wed—as if it were yesterday. It was the second happiest day of my life.”

“What was the first,” I asked curiously.

“The first was the day I knew I would become your wife,” she said smiling. “The day we first met.”

“I do not have a happiest day, I am afraid,” I said coyly.

“Why not,” Êlúriel asked frowning.

“Because every day with you is the happiest day of my life.”

We kissed again until the familiar knock was heard at our doors.

“Would you mind terribly if I put a lock on our doors,” I asked.

Êlúriel laughed as she rose from our bed and went to cover herself.

“Enter, Fëaluin,” she said.

Through the doors came Fëaluin with several servants—several bringing breakfast. I remained where I was as the activity stole from me a feeling of being ordinary. 

“Thranduil,” he began. “Fancy finding you still in bed when you should be attending to your duties.”

“How is that possible,” I said. “I cannot attend to anything without you. The day would no longer be sacrosanct without you reminding me to attend to my royal duties every morning. Perish the thought.”

“No time for melodrama, Thranduil,” he said ignoring me and bowing to Êlúriel as he approached her. “Your Majesty, how was your night? I hope it was pleasant.”

“It was, thank you,” Êlúriel answered. “My ladies await me?”

“Yes,” Fëaluin said. “They await just outside.” They turned their gaze toward me; I knew what it meant.

“Why is it on such occasions it is me that must leave my own chambers,” I asked, motioning for the servants to bring my robe. “I am the king of this realm if you have not noticed.”

“We have noticed,” Fëaluin said. “How can we not? You have reminded us of it every morning for nearly three thousand years.”

When I was covered, I went to Êlúriel and kissed her.

“It is only for this day,” she whispered.

“Please, my dear,” I whispered. “Do not tease me.”

I turned and proceeded to follow Fëaluin and two servants out the door and into the hall. It was filled with ladies going into my chambers.

“Good day, Ada,” I heard Isílriel say.

I turned to see her walking toward me—hardly recognizable from the child she had been. She was as beautiful as her mother and in every way a lady. She embraced me and kissed my cheek.

“How is my daughter,” I asked.

“Quite well,” she answered. “Nana has sent you away, I see. Elranduil awaits you in his chambers.”

“For once I would like to have my cousin inconvenienced,” I said.

“But your chambers are far larger, Ada,” she said. “Cousin told me it was tradition.”

“Yes, of course, Darling,” I answered. “Carry on. I shall see you soon.”

She smiled and followed the last of the ladies into my chambers as Fëaluin and I began to go our way.

“Remind me to have a word with Elranduil about this ‘tradition’, Fëaluin,” I said. He laughed as we made our way toward Elranduil and Ardúin’s chambers.

Upon entering the room, everyone stood and bowed. Every one that should be in attendance were—including Legolas dressed as his brother and cousins. I could see that like his sister, he was well beyond childhood. Looking around, there were no remnants of my youth left. I was looking at the world through the eyes of my father—as a king that had ruled for centuries.

I noticed Êlenuil and Elendôr looking fearful at my arrival. It meant that the time had come to leave youth behind. I acknowledged them and led my dressers toward the dressing corner shielded by a screen. I heard room empty as my dressers began their work.

“I know you are still here, Elranduil,” I said.

“Of course,” he said. “As always.”

“It would seem my daughter thinks it is tradition to have the king ceremoniously pushed from the royal bed chamber on such an occasion.”

“I know nothing of such a thing,” he said. I could tell he was laughing and I could here others laughing along with him. “The princess must have heard it from someone else.”

“Do you mean it is not true as you said,” I heard Legolas ask. The room erupted in laughter as I came round to see all the princes in the room.

“You know nothing of such a thing,” I repeated to Elranduil as I straightened the sleeves of my robe while a servant followed me brushing my hair. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I might have mentioned it in passing,” he said.

“Elranduil, please,” Eldôr said. “Already a grandfather, still acting as a child. Send for the others to return. Make yourself useful.”

Elranduil sneered and went into the hall as Eldôr turned to me.

“You never fail to remind me of your father,” he said. “He would be proud of you.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” I said softly. “I wish he were here. Mother as well.”

“They would both be proud,” he said. “As I am.”

When the room was full again, I noticed Haldúir had joined us. He was dressed as a member of the household he would soon be apart. Unlike before, he seemed at home with us. I knew Fëaluin had much to do with that as he and Eldôr had their time with him. I walked to him and he bowed.

“Your Majesty,” he said.

“Haldúir,” I said. “It is good to see you again. The attire of the elves suits you rather well.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You must see Arímë. I have not seen her more beautiful nor more joyous. Seeing her family again has lifted her spirits.”

“You are family now as well,” I said. “I believe our worlds are better for it.”

“It is time,” Fëaluin announced. “Everyone to their positions.”

Everyone began moving around quickly. I was left with Tarthôn, Ardôr and Haldúir alongside Eldôr and Fëaluin. We were to lead the procession to the ceremony with our wives. When the halls fell quiet, we went into the hall. There waiting for us were Êlúriel, Ëariâth, Ninyáre and Arímë. They were all beautiful—dressed in the robes of the season--an elegant symphony of rich gold, orange and reds the leaves of autumn. I went to Êlúriel and took her hand.

“Shall we go, Your Majesty,” I asked her. 

She nodded and we made our way through the empty halls of the palace and outside toward the marital canopy where the rest of the court waited.”--TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil (EXT. VER.) by J. Marie Miller 10-9-17