Plotted starter for @kingthrcnduil

Translation 1. meleth nîn -> my love.

            When  Sauron  fell,  it  was  as  if  a  veil  had  been  lifted.  Daeris  had  no  memory  of  the  years  that  had  passed,  but  she  could  tell  that  the  world  had  changed.  Her  last  clear  memory  was  a  conversation  she  had  with  Thranduil  not  long  after  darkness  had  started  to  creep  into  Greenwood,  and  then  there  were  just  fragments  of  things  her  mind  could  not  make  sense  of.

The  Elvenqueen's  first  thought  was  Thranduil  and  Legolas,  who  she  did  not  know  she  had  left  behind.  She  managed  to  make  her  way  back  to  the  realm  she  loved  so  deeply,  but  that  too  had  changed.  The  woods  were  darker,  the  paths  less  travelled.  Something  had  happened,  something  terrible.  She  continued  on  with  a  heavy  weight  in  her  chest.

Daeris  knew  she  was  close  by  markers  that  seemed  to  have  survived  whatever  horrid  thing  swept  through  Greenwood.  She  takes  a  few  more  steps  and  is  suddenly  surrounded  by  soldiers  that  she  recognizes  by  their  armour.  What  she  did  not  remember  was  those  defences  being  in  place. Already  pale  complexions  turn  even  paler  when  their  eyes  land  on  her,  acting  as  if  they  saw  a  ghost.    She  caught  some  of  the  whispers  amongst  them,  one,  in  particular,  catching  her  attention.  This  can't  be  the  queen.  The  queen  is  dead.

❛  I  assure  you  I  am  very  much  alive.  ❜  Daeris  watches  them  stiffen  when  her  voice  hits  their  ears,  their  words  and  their  reaction  to  her  only  leaving  her  with  more  questions  than  answers,  her  mind  swirling  through  them  as  she  is  escorted  to  the  grand  doors,  only  to  be  treated  as  if  she  were  a  stranger  in  her  own  home,  searched  for  weapons  and  accompanied  by  two  guards  the  whole  time.  

❛  You  act  as  if  I  am  going  to  attempt  to  kill  my  own  husband.❜  Her  words  are  met  with  silence.  She  goes  to  say  something  else,  but  green  eyes  land  on  Legolas,  who  stands  at  the  foot  of  Thranduil's  throne,  and  he  is  not  the  boy  she  remembers  him  being  a  similar  look  to  the  one  the  soldiers  in  the  forest  gave  her,  the  sight  pulling  the  breath  out  of  her  lungs.  Her  eyes  drifted  from  her  son  to  her  husband.  He  had  changed.  

Despite  their  immortality  and  their  never  ageing  appearance,  things  changed  in  elves.  The  changes  usually  went  unseen  by  mortals  who  only  lived  one  lifetime,  but  you  could  see  them  when  you  lived  many  lifetimes.

❛  Thranduil,  meleth  nîn.  ❜  A  bright  smile  graces  her  features,  but  that  smile  fades  as  quickly  as  it  came  when  she  goes  to  move  to  him,  and  the  royal  guards  stop  her  from  moving  any  further.  ❛  Thranduil?  ❜  She  questions  anxiety  filling  her  voice. Daeris  tries  to  force  herself  to  remember  what  had  happened  to  cause  all  of  this,  but  her  mind  was  just  blank.  One  moment  she  was  reassuring  Thranduil  that  all  would  be  well.  The  next,  she  was  in  an  unfamiliar  place,  and  when  she  did  return  home,  nothing  was  as  she  remembered  it.

Hunk was a simple young man. He saw someone who was his ally get hurt, he had to do something about it.

Even if that something was to pick up a rather uptight elven king who wanted nothing to do with him. The king was tall but just a bit taller than Shiro. Hunk knew how to carry Shiro so it was a small adjustment! He would just have to drape Thranduil over his shoulders in a fireman carry to make it work. There was blood on the king’s shining and polished armor and Hunk was hurrying across the plain as he searched for cover.

If there was one thing he had learned after becoming a paladin it was to quickly wrap a wound in an emergency. At least as long as it was followed by a healthy few hours in a healing pod. There was no healing pod here and he only had what emergency he kept in stock in Yellow. But damn it! He wasn’t going to come to some other dimension only to let a king die before his eyes!

The paladin hurried, each step labored, but the adrenaline pushing away the pain from the battle. He could feel Yellow’s strength in the back of his mind, weak and desperate as she knew he needed her, but she could not move. Hunk rushing to the trees to take cover and get out of sight. Into the dark beneath the canopy of Mirkwood. A place he had not known for long and definitely could not find his way in, but there was a chance that they would be discovered by the many eyes of the elves that dwelled there. Once the sound of the searching orcs quieted down Hunk slowed down. He looked around them in the dark bushes and the low hanging branches. A shift in the leaves barely noticable and Hunk was already feeling disoriented. He shifted the king’s body into his arms and dragged both of them in beneath a fir tree. An extra layer of cover if anyone managed to come after them that they did not want to see them. carefully he sat Thranduil up against the trunk of the tree and looked at where the blood was coming from.

Starter for @kingthrcnduil​

                Daeris  often  went  out  into  the  gardens  to  read  when  she  needed  to  get  away  from  the  busy  environment  that  was  Greenwood's  halls.  They  were  almost  always  empty,  probably  forgotten  by  most.  It  was  nothing  she  would  complain  about,  making  the  space  an  ideal  sanctuary  for  her  to  escape  to.  

She  stayed  out  in  the  brisk  air  well  into  the  evening,  only  deciding  to  start  making  her  way  back  when  the  last  light  of  the  day  began  to  disappear  entirely.  Catching  a  small  amount  of  movement  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye,  green  hues  settle  on  the  familiar  face  of  Thranduil.  There's  a  slight  hesitation  in  her  approach,  unsure  if  it's  exactly  wise,  but  she's  going  to  find  out.

Plotted starter for @kingthrcnduil​

Translations 1. Im am an allui, ú- a threat -> I am an ally, not a threat 2. Im foeg baw harm. -> I mean no harm 3. Privatelui. -> Privately

                  Despite  the  evolving  situation,  when  the  advisor  who  attended  the  Greenwood  royal  court  on  her  behalf  returned  to  Rhîwnan,  with  news  that  the  neighbouring  woodland  realm  they've  had  an  alliance  with  for  as  long  as  she  can  remember  required  supplies  and  aid,  the  northern  queen  didn't  hesitate.  She  organized  things  quickly,  choosing  to  travel  with  her  men  to  Greenwood  for  the  first  time  since  the  untimely  passing  of  her  father  and  brother  to  see  if  she  could  help  in  any  other  way.  

The  journey  to  Greenwood  was  one  that  Almárëa  had  made  countless  times  in  her  long  life.  Safe  routes  were  well  established  between  the  two  realms  making  the  trip  easy,  and  because  she  had  heard  the  situation  while  less  than  ideal  was  fairly  under  control  and  far  from  dire,  she  didn't  bring  many  men—a  mistake.  

A    horde  of  Orcs  descended  upon  them  about  a  half-day  ride  from  the  shared  border  between  Eyvelin  and  Greenwood.  They  were  outnumbered  in  a  matter  of  seconds  and  easily  separated  from  each  other.  Almárëa  was  forced  off  the  path  into  the  dense  forest  that  was  hard  to  navigate  at  the  best  of  times,  leaving  the  queen  at  a  dangerous  disadvantage.  

Her  knowledge  of  this  land  did  little  to  help  her.  The  realm  had  changed  drastically,  dark  and  ominous,  practically  unrecognizable,  infested  with  Orcs  and  giant  spiders  that  only  served  to  force  her  deeper  into  the  woods  and  further  from  the  known  paths.  By  some  miracle,  she  stumbled  upon  an  old  trail  that's  use  was  discontinued  what  must  have  been  at  least  a  hundred  years  ago,  the  forest  reclaiming  it,  but  it  was  just  visible  enough  that  she  was  able  to  follow  it  to  the  Elvenking's  halls.  

A  patrol  of  Thranduil's  elite  soldiers  appeared  from  the  trees  when  she  crossed  the  invisible  border  they  seemed  to  have  established,  most  likely  to  keep  the  inhabitants  safe  from  the  horrors  in  the  woods.

❛  Im  am  an  allui,  ú-  a  threat  ❜  Sindarin  words  roll  off  her  tongue  in  an  attempt  to  ease  the  tension,  raising  her  hands  slowly  to  pull  the  hood  of  her  cloak  down.  She  knew  she  was  in  quite  the  state.  ❛  Im  foeg  baw  harm.❜

Almárëa  hadn't  made  it  unscathed,  the  fine  fabrics  of  her  riding  dress  torn  in  multiple  places,  some  leaving  visible  bruises  or  cuts  on  her  otherwise  pristine  skin,  a  rather  large  abrasion  on  her  cheek  that  was  starting  to  bruise  as  well.  Fiery  red  hair  had  been  pulled  out  of  the  delicate  braids  it  was  usually  in,  falling  messily  around  her  shoulders.  The  fact  she  made  it  alive  was  surprising,  but  she  had  a  feeling  her  men  had  not  been  so  lucky.

A  relieved  breath  passes  her  lips  when  the  soldiers  lower  their  weapons  at  one  of  the  captain's  commands,  who  recognized  her.  Once  she  was  allowed  into  the  halls  that  had  been  her  home  what  seemed  like  a  lifetime  ago,  she  took  no  time  to  tend  to  herself,    confirming  that  Thranduil  was  in  the  throne  room,  which  she  needed  no  instructions  to  find.  Time  may  have  passed,  but  her  ability  to  navigate  what  was  a  confusing  labyrinth  of  halls  had  not  faltered.

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