The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy Book II

HOW TO READ THE KINGDOM OF THE WOODLAND REALM TRILOGY

I have read complaints from people that seem understandably lost when reading from blog to blog, so I’m going to try to explain it has best as I can (especially now that TKWR Trilogy has a larger audience than originally thought). Most people may not be watching the TKWR Trilogy Newsfeed: @tkwrtnewsfeed often (where I often post free downloadable books now and then--one coming next Wednesday on my Dad’s birthday), so I’ll try to explain how to follow this book.

This is the first blog: the FIRST ONE you should start with. It begins here: https://tkwrtrilogy.tumblr.com/post/135724032251/book-ii-the-saga-of-thranduil-chapter-i-i-am. That’s the very first excerpt from the entire first book (either version).

This is also the first book I started with; it began as one book then it was to be a trilogy about Thranduil and evolve into a trilogy about the multi-generational stories of his family (thus is why the links seem odd versus the titles on the page). This blog is THE FIRST HALF OF BOOK II: THE SAGA OF THRANDUIL.

THE SECOND HALF of BOOK II: THE SAGA OF THRANDUIL starts here: @tkwrtrilogy2. You are taken to the additional 9 chapters of Book II: The Saga of Thranduil. It begins here: https://tkwrtrilogy2.tumblr.com/post/147531755302/chapter-i-a-love-beyond-time-pt-i-legolas-was. The chapter titles reflect what would have been the original THIRD BOOK of the ORIGINAL TRILOGY. It was easier to do that than add to this blog because I already had ended what was the original end of Book II.

THE EXTENDED VERSION: First, it’s here: @extendedtkwrtrilogyend. Secondly, it begins before Êlúriel dies in the first (original) versions–i.e., the above two blogs. It begins here: https://extendedtkwrtrilogyend.tumblr.com/post/148916252443/chapter-xviii-ext-the-return-to-shadow-pt-i. The Extended Version starts in the middle of Book II: The Saga of Thranduil and covers parts you read in the first two blogs. The chapter titles reflect the additional titles for the (now) new trilogy (that added 9 chapters and 140+ additional pages). This is part of a SEPARATE BOOK; the extended version of Book II: The Saga of Thranduil.

BOOK I: THE EPIC OF ERYN GALEN

Going back into time: After doing some research to make this entire story appear to work alongside actual Tolkien, I realized that when Oropher dies during the War of the Last Alliance, he was too young to be “awakened” by Lake Cuiviénen; hence I had to create his family while all the while making him related to Celeborn (as Christopher Tolkien said his father said he was but never elaborated). That took about six months and when it was ready, Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen went up here: @tkwrtrilogy3. This is the book I am writing now. I am technically done with Book II and going through editing both versions.

The NEW Book III: THE LAST TALE OF LEGOLAS GREENLEAF (LASGALEN)

I knew that all the generations of the Woodland Royals had to be consistent. Book I is told by Orothôn, father of Oropher and Oropher himself. You can thank Thranduil for making it possible that all generations tell their story from their point of view. So I decided to change what was a diary into a book. So now Legolas is Book III. He can be found here: @trenarnolegolaslasgalen. It will still be written in Sindarin more than the others; as the name suggests it means “The Last Tale of Legolas Lasgalen”. That will be the last book in the trilogy. Since Legolas is in most of Book II and its extended version, this means Legolas’ book has an extended version. That one is here: @tkwrtrilogylasttale. Nothing’s there yet (obviously). That doesn’t mean I’m not working on it--I am.

The only “updates” to the blogs will be in PDF versions of the books as they are made available periodically (like next week’s download that will last for 24 hours in honor of my father’s birthday). The online versions are the very first rough drafts. 

You are reading the evolution of a high fantasy novel based on the Tolkien characters Oropher, Thranduil and Legolas from their point of view (so look for a lot of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings in Legolas’ story (Book III) and a lot of The Silmarillion in Orothôn and Oropher’s point of view in Book I. There will be an end--unlike other fan fictions. Also, unlike other fan fictions, the entire book will have an annotated version--complete with notes for source material for how this book evolved in the first place; when that day comes, you’ll know: This book has 10 TKWRT related blogs.

In conclusion: the first two blogs mentioned here are the same book (Book II: The Saga of Thranduil), the third mentioned is the extended version of the first book which is Book II, Book I (fourth link) is the story of Thranduil’s ancestors and Book III (fifth and sixth links) is Legolas telling his story as his father did in Book II and his great-grandfather and grandfather did in Book I. 😁 I hope this helps somewhat as the story continues to get more detailed and comprehensive.--JMM, author.

Images: ©2001, 2002, 2003. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. All Rights Reserved.

© 2015. “The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy by J. Marie Miller.

Disclaimer: New characters are intermingled with canonical characters–from the books, not the films. My non-canonical characters were created and based solely on Tolkien’s Middle-Earth (on purpose). Though there are events and relationships between new and canonical characters, the story itself is original, there are absolutely no passages, prose or quotes within this story that come from either The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings or any volume on the History of Middle Earth or the History of the War of the Ring written by J.R.R. Tolkien or Christopher Tolkien unless specified (in the form of Tolkien Elvish).**

**Annotated version of The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy by J. Marie Miller (forthcoming).

If you are new to The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy by J.M. Miller, the rest of Book II: The Saga of Thranduil is found at @tkwrtrilogy2. Thank you.

Images: ©2012, 2013, 2014. Warner Brothers Pictures. The Hobbit: The Unexpected Journey, The Hobbit: Desolation of Smaug, The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies. All Rights Reserved.

Chapter XXI: The Best of Sons (Pt. IV)

“Once Gollum was put away, I prepared to go to dinner. As I began across the balcony, I saw Êlenuil with Súlelenth. I paused for a moment to watch them.

“Father does not know,” I heard Súlelenth say. “He would not want this for me as mother told him of her own mother’s sadness.”

“He has to know, Súlelenth,” he said. “Enough time has passed. He knows you are wedded and have been for some time.”

“I know,” she said. “It will be difficult and what will I do if he will not come? He did not come to our wedding nor allow mother to come. What will we do then, Êlenuil?”

“Remember when it was Êlúriel we overheard once,” I heard Elranduil say. “There seems history repeats itself, Thranduil, in one form or another.”

“I would appear,” I said quietly. “The circumstance is quite different as you know.”

“I know,” he said. “Have you seen them? Together, I mean. They are beautiful. Ardúin is enchanted by them, of course.”

“I may see them one day, Elranduil,” I sighed. “Not now.”

“I understand,” he said.

We walked toward the dining hall. At the door, his wife waited to enter beside him and as I had done for over a thousand years, I entered alone. Aragorn and Legolas  seemed like kindred spirits and spent most of the night talking with him and the other princes of the realm. I hardly ate or said a word. The voices in the room sounded like the buzzing of bees until I felt a small hand pulling on my coat. I looked down to see a small elven child looking at me—his soft golden hair falling around his blue eyes. He reminded me of Legolas at that age.

“Pick me up,” he said. “Now, please."

“No,” another voice said on my other side. “Me, first.”

With sparkling grey eyes and brown hair with the right hint of gold, she gave her brother a sharp look. I could not help but laugh.

“What are you doing out of bed,” I whispered. I did not want to alarm anyone of their presence.

“No,” he said. “I am not sleepy.”

“I am,” she said, climbing upon my lap and curling up as her brother tried to grab something on the table.

The room fell quiet as everyone was looking at me. Elranduil started to laugh.

“Ada,” Legolas said. “I believe someone wishes to have an audience with you.”

“Yes, I guess they felt you were ready to see them,” Elranduil whispered, as he picked up the boy. “Everyone, this is Nenduîl, son of Êlenuil and that is his sister, Tárimë.”

Tárimë had fallen asleep with her arms around my neck. I could not help but remember fondly when my sons were young and how much joy they had brought to me whenever they were in my arms. As I rose from my seat, so did everyone and bow. I followed Elranduil out into the hall.

“If I did not know better,” I began. “I would think you had something to do with this, Elranduil.”

“I do not mean to disappoint you, Thranduil,” he said. “But roaming out pass bedtime seems to be an inherited trait in this family.”

Once in their chambers, I looked around. It once belonged to Legolas and Tarthôn. My mother and my wife had taken such care to prepare it for them so long ago. I put Tárimë in her bed and went to look out their window at the falls. They seemed to play a lullaby I never knew but generations after had grown to love. Elranduil came and stood next to me.

“They are beautiful,” I said. “How unusual their birth.”

“Truly,” he said. “They have but one choice in this world to make when they come of age.”

“Then let them make it for themselves,” I said. “You know they cannot stay here no more than their father.”

“I know,” he said. “Êlenuil does not know what he is, so what would he tell his children?”

“Nothing,” I said. “For a time. I would think they should know Súlelenth’s family first. I wish to know.”

We watched the children sleep for a while before leaving to our own chambers. How beautiful they were, I thought. How so much Tárimë looked like Êlúriel.

The next morning I prepared to speak with Aragorn. I walked from my chambers as always toward my study when Fëaluin met me in the hall.

“He is gone,” he said.

“Who is gone,” I asked as Legolas and Aragorn approached.

“Gollum,” Fëaluin said. “Guards have been sent to find him. He seemed to have slipped away when they opened his cell to give him food and drink.”

“What do we do now,” Legolas said. “You know what he is after. The guards told Nimlos and Nînuir he spent most of the time talking with himself about the ring and hobbits.”

“Hobbits,” I asked as I remembered Bilbo. “Why would that creature be speaking of hobbits. Rather peculiar.”

“I think that may be what he was,” Aragorn said. “He spoke of it on the way here. He seems to think one took the ring from him.”

“If he is out there with that ring,” I began. “Then this world will know peace no more. Search no further than these borders for him.”

Aragorn and Legolas left with several others out of the palace.

“It seems that we have had only a moment of peace,” Fëaluin said. “Now it is no longer."

But dusk, all returned empty handed. Gollum knew darkness well and how to navigate through it far better than any man or elf. Aragorn stayed with us one last night and left swiftly the following day. I hoped perhaps Gollum may be found before whatever evil befell him fell upon another. Not long thereafter, no more than a few months to us, news would come from Rivendell.

News came one day I had lost myself playing with Nenduîl and Tárimë in the room above the throne. As we tossed a small ball made for them by Súlelenth, Fëaluin and Eldôr came to me with a message from Elrond from Rivendell.

“Does Legolas know of it,” I asked.

“Yes,” Eldôr said. “He overheard me speaking with the messenger before council. He was looking for you, but found us instead, I am afraid.”

“He wants to do this, Thranduil,” Fëaluin said. “As he has always done before.”

“I know,” I said softly. “I will not keep him from it. He is no longer a child.”

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

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

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,” he said.

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

“I remember many things, Father,” 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. The child that would run to his father’s arms after I lost my greatest love. The boy that comforted a king 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 me, 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. As the day my beloved fell, 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.

I smiled. Fëaluin looked at me curiously.

“I know, Fëaluin. I have not smiled in some time. I might do it again some day.”

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.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 7-14-16

**END OF FIRST PART OF BOOK II** 

For the rest of Book II: @tkwrtrilogy2.

Chapter XXI: The Best of Sons (Pt. III)

“You are quite a mess,” Fëaluin said to me when I emerged once again from my chambers. He motioned and an army of servants led me away. My mind was still trying to comprehend all that had happened when I realized they had placed me in a bath and were pouring water over my head.

“Fëaluin, I wish to be left alone,” I said as my words seemed to echo inside my head. “Let me be.”

“I am afraid I cannot,” he said. “There are more pressing matters than your melancholia. There are fears spoken in whispers that Sauron is rising once more in Mordor.”

I pulled myself out of the bath and immediately assaulted by servants wiping the water away.

“Will we never rid ourselves of this evil,” I asked. “I grow tired of war. I do not want to go through it again.”

“Where there is light, there is darkness,” he said. “It has been that way since time began and will continue on until it ends. If it is not Sauron, it will something new.”

When the servants were done, they had dressed me in white embroidered with silver thread that took the shape of forest trees. I looked at myself in the mirror as my mind wandered.

“Where is Súlelenth,” I asked. “Has she gone?”

“Yes,” he said. “Did you not wish it to be so?”

“I cannot answer that, Fëaluin,” I said. “I do not know how to answer that.”

“Of course not,” he said softly. “I apologize.”

“For what do you have to apologize,” I asked. “You did not give me love and take it away only to have the sutures torn away from the wounds by happenstance. I do not wish to speak of her just now. I will see her again. Êlenuil is in love with her and it will not be long before he will ask for her hand and I will be expected to give it.”

Fëaluin said nothing. I made my way toward my study through the winding halls with him close behind. When I reached entered my study, Eldôr was waiting with Nimlos and Elranduil.

“Did Fëaluin tell what has happened,” Eldôr asked.

“Sauron has returned to Mordor,” I said sitting at my table noticed a message. “What is this?”

“That just arrived,” Elranduil said. “From Rivendell.”

I looked over the message briefly. When I was finished, I put it away.

“When should I expect Estel to arrive,” I asked.

“Within the week,” Eldôr answered. “He will arrive to use from our southern borders.”

“Another one,” I said flippantly. “I cannot seem to escape them.”

“Thranduil,” Nimlos began. “What is the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter,” I said. “Did you see your cousin safely on her way?”

“Yes,” he said. “It was her father that met us by the river.”

“I trust you did not speak to him of Êlenuil,” I said. “Why?”

“Her safe return was the only concern,” he said.

Everyone could see I was becoming rather agitated as I my composure seemed fail and I was shaking. I slammed my fist down on the table.

“Her father was of men, was he not?”

“Yes, he was,” Nimlos said. “Súlelenth is mortal. I do not see why that would upset you, Thranduil.”

“She is part of my wife,” I roared. “Another part of her that will die and I will never see again! I never want to see her again within the borders of this kingdom and I do not want her to see Êlenuil again!”

“Thranduil,” Elranduil began. “Stop it. You do not mean what you say.”

“Do I sound unsure of what I said,” I yelled.

“You sound hurt and angry,” he yelled. “Do not put lay that upon the shoulders of Êlenuil! He is the son of my son! You are my cousin and I love you but do not think for a moment I will let you hurt one of my own! King or not!

I grabbed his collar and he took hold of my hands trying to pull me away. I pushed him against the wall as Nimlos and Eldôr tried to pull us apart.

“Ada,” Legolas said as he walked in with Tarthôn, Aruilos, Ardôr and Orísil.

When I saw his face, I was ashamed. I dropped Elranduil and ran out of my study and out the front gate. I did not stop running until I collapsed in my sacred place beside Êlúriel’s tomb. I knew Elranduil was right and I was angry and hurting far more than I realized.

“Why,” I said sobbing. “Why could she have not been you? Why, Êlúriel? Why?”

I cry for hours. It was still winter and cold but I did not feel the cold. I was already numb with sadness. I wanted to be taken in grief to be with Êlúriel.

“Ada,” I heard Legolas say. I thought it was just another vision taunting me until I looked and saw him and Tarthôn kneeling  beside their mother’s tomb with me.

“I apologize,” I said. “You should never see me act in such a manner.”

“We are not angry,” Tarthôn said. “Nor is Elranduil.”

“He should be,” I said. “He was right. I cannot bear to look at him or Nimlos after the things I said.”

“I don’t know, cousin,” I heard Elranduil say. “You have said and done many things. Most of which I tend to ignore.”

We looked up and saw Elranduil and Nimlos looking down at us. My stomach turned.

“I know your heart still mourns Êlúriel,” Nimlos said. “Súlelenth is very much like her. Her mother and Êlúriel were very close. Near sisters as they had no other siblings.  I felt as you when I saw her father.”

“I suppose I must admit feeling the same,” Elranduil said. “Men are fragile and weak. They die. I would hardly wish to have one in the family but the heart will go where it is led.”

“I feel more for Êlenuil,” Tarthôn said. “Having to live long enough to watch her wither away and die.”

That thought never occurred to me—watching time steal youth and beauty away. Had Êlúriel remained with me, I knew she would look as she had the day I met her. Êlenuil would watch his love change as the seasons while he would never change at all.

I stood up and my sons followed. I went over to Elranduil and embraced him.

“Forgive me,” I said.

“As always,” he answered. “Father would not rest until I did so.”

“Am I forgiven, Nimlos,” I asked. “I will understand if not.”

“Thranduil, we are family,” he said embracing me. “I was never angry. But I know why you said those things. Eldôr explained it to us. The coming of Estel”.

“Who is Estel,” Legolas asked.

“He is the heir of Isildur,” Elranduil said. “I remember him. I also remember Oropher did not take much of a liking to him. Yet father has it on good authority that this one is far nobler than his ancestor.”

“Why would that upset you, Ada,” Tarthôn asked.

“Elrond’s daughter is in love with him,” Elranduil said. “The wardens have ears and thankfully Glorfindel says plenty for them to hear. Come, let us go inside. Dinner I am quite sure is prepared.”

Everyone looked at me. I had forgotten myself again—I was the King of Mirkwood and the leader of my people. I stepped forward to lead my family across the bridge to the welcoming light of our home.

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

Time passed and the day came when I would see the power of Sauron face to face. The day was as any other—the court going about their work, Legolas spent time with Mîráre and they were often with Êlenuil and Súlelenth. Watching them reminded me of when I courted Êlúriel. That day, I was with Súriar discussing a fitting end to a volume of our history for the Second Age and beginning the third when Elmîr entered my study.

“Yes, Elmîr,” I said. “What do you have for me today?”

“He has come,” he said bowing. “He is not alone.”

I looked up at him—his face contorted in disgust. The three of us went into the throne room where my entire council waited in audience. Standing before them was a man with dark hair and gentle eyes. Before I could adjust my focus on him, I noticed he had beside him horrible little creature as black as pitch with slick skin and eyes far larger than his face would allow.

“What is that,” I whispered to Elmîr.

“That is hideous,” he said. “If you do not mind, I do not make me touch it.”

I walked over to the man. He respectfully bowed. He was extraordinarily measured considering he had come into my kingdom with such a monstrosity.

“What shall I call you, now that you stand beyond the borders of Rivendell,” I asked him.

“Aragorn, Son of Arathorn,” he said. “For I know you know well of my past.”

“What is this creature you bring with you?”

“Gollum,” he said. “Wretched creature he is, but I am afraid Sauron has done this to him.”

“I wants it, my precious,” Gollum said to himself. “He took it!”

I did not know to if I should address Gollum or leave him to himself.

“Is he speaking to me,” I asked.

“No,” Aragorn said. “To himself. He does not know where he is. Sauron tortured him mercilessly, I am afraid.”

“What did he look like before,” I asked, feeling some pity. “I am almost afraid to ask.”

“I do not know, for I was not born,” he said. “He has been this way for hundreds of years.”

“I have seen many disgusting creatures, but none such as this where I have pity yet am utterly disgusted at first sight.”

“I agree with you, Your Majesty,” he said. “But there is something that has taken his soul and turned it away to darkness. I am afraid it was one of my own that played a part.”

“What do you mean,” I asked.

“The War of the Last Alliance,” Eldôr said. “If you remember, that is where we fought together to defeat Sauron at Mordor so long ago. It comes back to haunt us once more.”

“He found a ring that belong to Sauron that he misplaced it seems,” Aragorn said. “From what I could gather from him, he lost this ring that Elrond said Isildur once had in his possession. I brought him to see if you get him to say more.”

Before I could answer, Legolas came around the corner with Tarthôn, Ardôr and Orísil and screamed in terror at the sight of Gollum. Gollum let out an equally loud cry I would liken to an animal in distress.

“Legolas,” I said. “Calm yourself.”

“What is that,” he asked.

“Aragorn, meet my son, Legolas,” I said, as I motioned to guards to take Gollum to the dungeon. “Your journey was long, I am sure. Please, rest and tomorrow we will discuss how to talk to Gollum.”

He bowed and followed Fëaluin away. I called Nimlos to me.

“Yes,” he asked.

“Wherever Gollum is placed, have the guards clean his cell often,” I said. “I am afraid he might leave a stain and render our dungeons useless.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 7-13-16

Chapter XXI: The Best of Sons (Pt. II)

“It would take years after I first learned of the mysterious peredhel within my palace for me to put it out of my mind. I refused to allow anyone to speak of her or say her name to me. I did not want to think there could be anyone in the world that could be as beautiful as my Êlúriel. I must admit to myself that I wondered if she resembled my beloved but I set it aside and enjoyed what peace that had come with the lifting of the curse.

I enjoyed taking rides with Legolas most days and reading in my study during the rain or walks through the forest after a gentle snow. I watched as my household grew as some in my kingdom took solace in seeing their kin in the Undying Lands. I thought often in winter—looking toward a darkening evening sky into the west and wondering when I would leave if at all. Then I would walk to her grave and sit for hours staring at her name—so long sometimes Legolas or Tarthôn would have come for me and walk me inside. I was growing old but no age shown upon my face. Only the fading glow of in my eyes would tell anyone of my age. All I had seen and suffered seemed as distant as the stars yet guided the way to lonely tears late into the night when visions of Êlúriel never came.

One night long after the halls had fallen quiet, I left my chambers. The night cast no shadows as a gentle snow fell. I wandered into the night a gentle breeze drifted as I went to where I had met my love in my youth. The only song that I heard was the wind through my ears. I looked around—hoping to see something and I would.

It was Legolas walking toward me. He knew my habits well and often would follow me wherever I went.

“Ada,” he said. “It is late and cold. Why are you out of the palace?”

“For the same reason as you,” I said. “Looking.”

“I am looking for you,” he laughed. “It would seem I am always looking for you.”

“I am looking for myself,” I said. “It has been too long, Legolas. I am thinking on leaving Mirkwood forever.”

“If you leave I would be king,” he said. “I do not think I would do very well. I want leave myself. See the world.”

“You were always trying to leave,” I said. “Not one to stay put for long. You were either in a bush or a tree when you were not filling the caverns with half the creatures of the forest. I suppose it would not surprise me that you wished to leave.”

“I would return,” he laughed. “I just want to know what is out there. You have seen much of it, have you not, Ada?”

“I never left my home unless it was for war. Then all I saw was pain and death.”

He looked at me with grimace. He then politely kneeled down to take a handful of snow and throw it in my face.

“Legolas,” I began. “That was not wise.”

He did it once more and in a matter of moments, we were throwing snow at one another in the middle of the night upon the very place I met and wed his mother. I loved spending time with Legolas whom, as his mother, could make me smile.

When we heard voices, we stopped and looked around. It came from the East. As it grew louder, Legolas drew his bow and we slowly followed the sound. A loud cry pierced the night in fear. It was the sound of a maiden and two men. I saw east guard run toward her voice as we followed them. I heard more voices and then sobbing. We ran toward the direction of the crying.

We came upon Findôl and his men helping a young maiden rise from the ground. A small lantern she was carrying lay beside her offering the only view of her features. She had the longest dark brown hair I had ever seen and sharpest green eyes. Her delicate features told me she was not a child nor was she old enough to marry.

I approached her and she cowered.

“Please do not hurt me,” she said. “I am lost and do not know where I am.”

“I am not going to hurt you,” I said. “But I will ask you why such a young maiden traveling alone at this hour through my kingdom. Where do you belong?”

“Dale,” she said. “I got lost on my way there.”

“What is your name,” I said curiously. She seemed familiar to me somehow.

“Súlelenth,” she said finally looking up at me. “Daughter of Haldúir, an archer for King Bain.”

“You are not lost,” I said. “You came here for something, to be sure. Is there trouble in Dale?”

“No,” she said finally standing to her full height. “All is well there. May I leave now?”

“You are in the presence of King Thranduil,” Findôl said.  “You will show respect.”

She looked up and smiled and I knew it all to well—so much so, I felt chill icier than the air run threw me.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she said bowing. “I have heard much about you from my mother.”

“Who is your mother,” I asked, moving closer to her to inspect her. “In Dale, or will I find her out there looking for her daughter?”

“She is with my father,” she said. “She does not know I am away.”

“Why are you away?”

She looked around at us in fear. We must have seemed frightening—several armed elven warriors and their king glaring down on her beneath a dim light of an old lantern.

“I am looking for Êlenuil,” she said softly.

I felt my heart beating faster as I remembered years ago maiden that had come into my kingdom. This one seemed too young to be the same, but I thought she could lead me to the one I wanted.

“You were looking for Êlenuil,” I said. “Well, look no further, Súlelenth. I will most gladly take you to him.”

I motioned to the guards to follow me and Legolas to the palace. She did not put on a struggle—she seemed calm and nearly joyous to come into the realm.

“Ada,” Legolas whispered. “I have seen her once before.”

“When was this,” I asked hardly listening. “After my return from Dale?”

“No, Ada. No more than a week ago.”

I stopped abruptly as everyone almost fell down. Súlelenth laughed—so much like Êlúriel I almost turned around.

“A week ago,” I said. “Why was I not informed of this?”

“Because that was the first and last time I saw her,” he said. “Tarthôn says she comes here quite often.”

We both turned and looked at the young maiden as my guards picked themselves from the ground. She reminded me so much of Êlúriel with every movement I thought she was an elf.

I continued to the palace so swiftly, Legolas struggled to stay beside me. The gates flew open and lanterns came on as I woke up the palace.

“Ardôr,” I roared.

Eldôr, Elranduil, Nimlos came running with Ardôr close behind. Aramoth and Nenloth came forth from the balcony into the vestibule. Nenloth gasped and fainted, her husband catching her. Nimlos’ color faded from his face as Ardôr came before me.

“Yes, Thranduil,” he said bewildered. “What is the matter? Who is this child?”

“You do not know,” I asked.

“Why would I know her?”

“She knows your son rather well,” I said.

Elves stood quietly waiting for anything to happen. Out of the crown of elves, Êlenuil stepped forward. His face seemed to brighten when he saw Súlelenth.

“Súlelenth,” he said. “You are here.”

She smiled and ran to him and they embraced. I looked at Ardôr—I was not happy as I could see they were in love.

When Nenloth was standing, she walked past me and slowly over to them. Her eyes never wavered from the girl—for she seemed to cast a spell over her.

“Im Nenloth od Ossiriand,” she said to Súlelenth.

Súlelenth released Êlenuil and faced Nenloth.

“Im Súlelenth,” she answered. “Naneth nîn istas i lam sindarinwa.”

“Who is your mother, Súlelenth,” Nenloth asked.

The girl looked down at the floor and started to cry. She looked around at the elves around her, her green eyes filled with tears. She looked at me and her gaze startled me. She looked at Nenloth again.

“Arímë,” she said. “Daughter of Gildúr and Sirurial.”

Nimlos slowly walked over to Súlelenth—his face stoic in disbelief. He embraced the girl tightly as tears fell from his eyes.

“My dear cousin,” he cried.

Soon the silence was broken as everyone began to speak among themselves. I walked into my chambers and fell to the floor beside my bed. I wept again as I had done when I first lost Êlúriel.”–Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller (7-12-16)

Chapter XXI: The Best of Sons (Pt. I)

“When the gates of my palace were within my sight, I could see nearly my entire kingdom waiting for us. The closer we came the louder the voices seemed to rise above the arms of leafless winter trees. I stopped in front of the bridge leading to my palace—I was home. To greet us were our families—among them were Tarthôn and Legolas. My heart leapt as they stood before me.

“Ada, you are home,” Legolas said smiling. “How I missed you.”

“I did so as well,” Tarthôn said.

“Not as much as I missed you both,” I said. “May I never have to go away again.”

As the three of us walked toward the gates, the cheers continued. Once inside my palace, I felt as something dark had been lifted—for light seem to fill the caverns of my palaces as they had before.

“Did anything happen in my absence,” I asked.

“No more than you would expect,” Tarthôn said. “I hope you do not mind that we cared for some of those men from Esgaroth that came to us.

“I am proud of you,” I said. “I would expect as much generosity from a Prince of the Woodland Realm.”

“Seems Êlenuil took a liking to them,” Legolas said. “In particular, one maiden. She was not as the others.”

“He is still young, Legolas,” I answered. “Caught in the moment, perhaps.”

“No, she was different,” Legolas said. “Far older than her years.”

“Is she still with us,” I asked.

“No,” Tarthôn said. “She left when the curse was lifted from Dol Guldur.”

I turned to him—I could feel my heart begin to beat faster.

“She left when the curse was lifted,” I repeated. “How would one of them know about such things?”

“I thought everyone knew,” Legolas said. “You mean no men knew of Sauron?”

“They would know of many things,” I said. “Did you speak of it? Did Êlenuil speak of it?”

“Not a word,” Tarthôn said. “She left nearly as it lifted. Neither of us saw her leave. Save Orísil. He saw her speaking with Êlenuil alone by the gates. He said he heard nothing alarming.”

I started to calm down as we walked into my study until Legolas asked me a question.

“Ada, where is Eryn Galen,” Legolas said. “It sounds familiar to me, but I cannot remember. I should remember, yes?”

I turned around—into my study my council started join us I could see over his shoulder.

“Eryn Galen,” I said. “You do not remember this name, Legolas?”

All fell silent—not a breath came from anyone nor did anyone dare breathe at the sound of that word.

“Not entirely,” he answered, innocent of anything he might say. “But this maiden spoke of it as if she knew of it. I remember one day as he was in the gardens, I overheard her say to Êlenuil and Elendôr that she knew someone that lived there but did no longer.”

“What was her name,” Nimlos asked approaching him. “Did she say as much.”

“I do not remember,” he answered. “But I remember Nenloth knew her at first glance it appeared. She spent far more time with her than Êlenuil.”

“I must go,” he said. “Many pardons.”

Then he was gone leaving everyone rattled.

“Is there anything more I need to know, Legolas,” I asked. “Tarthôn?”

“Yes,” Legolas said, ignoring Tarthôn’s attempt spirit him away. “Where is Eryn Galen?”

“You should know,” I said softly. “You live in what once was known as Eryn Galen.”

He looked at me as I had lied to him. He seemed unable to understand what I had said. I could see Fëaluin approaching cautiously.

“Legolas,” he said. “Aruilos and Orísil are looking for you and your brother.”

“Come, Legolas,” Tarthôn said, pulling his arm. “Let us go find them.”

Our gazed seemed to tightly locked until Legolas looked toward the door. He looked at me once more before leaving without saying another word. Eldôr, Elranduil, and Aramír stood motionless staring at me.

“Thranduil,” Fëaluin said slowly. “I would advise you not to say anything just now. We have things that must be done immediately to put things in order after our battle in Dale.”

“There should not be one of Men alive right now who should know the name Eryn Galen,” I said. “Not one.”

Fëaluin looked at Eldôr and Aramír left with Elranduil quickly and the doors were shut.

“There could be some,” Eldôr said as he began his way to me. “Especially in Rivendell.”

“She did not come from Rivendell,” I said sternly. “She came from Esgaroth. No one comes here from Rivendell or Lothlórien any more. Not since my coronation. Not since the wretched curse Sauron put on this kingdom. Not since we have been called Mirkwood.”

They seemed to feel my anger rising to the surface with my voice.

“Mithrandir spoke of Eryn Galen in Dale,” Fëaluin said calmly. “If you remember.”

“Mithrandir said it once, Fëaluin,” I said as I grew angrier. “He said it to me! He is a Maiar, Fëaluin! Of course he would know the name of Eryn Galen! Why would he not? He is older than this world! I want to know why any mortal in this world should know the ancient name given to this kingdom by my father before they were even born! Who is this person that told Ardôr’s sons that she knew someone that lived here once but does no longer?”

No sooner had I said that, Nimlos had returned with Nenloth. She came over to me with eyes full of tears and embraced me. When she released me she turned to Nimlos.

“I cannot say it, Nimlos,” she cried. “I cannot.”

She ran out of the room in tears with Fëaluin following after her.

“Remember when I told you Êlúriel was my cousin,” Nimlos said softly.

“Yes,” I answered, finding myself soothed by the sound of her name.

“Of the three of us that came into Eryn Galen, a fourth did not.”

“Another elf,” I asked.

“No,” he began. “Before we entered into Eryn Galen, we had found Randúmîr wandering alone. It was one called Sirurial that cared for him for a time until we came upon your borders and in fear she ran away. I do not know why but she left with her own daughter and was never seen again.”

“She was not an elf,” I asked.

“She was mortal. From Brethil. She was the wife of Gildúr, brother of Aranúril, mother of Êlúriel. Their daughter was a peredhel. We thought they were long dead perhaps by a wild animal or an orc for we never heard from either of them again. If there were a mortal that knew of Eryn Galen, it would have been Sirurial. If there is one now, it would be our cousin and her daughter.”

I sat down in my chair and out into the caverns. The sound of the waterfall roared as thunder in the silence that was now between us. I had come home from battle to find out a part of Êlúriel had spent many days within my palace unknown to me. She had returned to me and I feared I would never see her again.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 7-10-16

Chapter XX: Prelude to War (Pt. VI)

“The morning came with a defining silence. The air was filled with an unsettling fear that reminded me of Dagorlad. As I prepared to return to Erebor to face Thorin one last time, I thought about my sons in Mirkwood. It seemed an eternity away from them. I looked toward Erebor—its peak touching the last vestige of the night. I walked out of my tent to meet Bard and watched the last of the fires smoldering to cinder. Men and Elves together again in an encampment preparing for battle.

Bard stood looking toward the mountain—his expression grievous.

“The Dwarves of the Iron Hills have come,” he said softly.

I looked in his direction and as the sun shone through gathering clouds, the stunning image of an army beneath the mountain appeared. We looked at each other in mutual worry. Something would happen this day. Had I known that Bard had words with messengers from Dáin Ironfoot, I would have been better prepared for the sight of dwarves moving in positions for a battle for the mountain. I called for my army to take position as the men prepared to take the eastern arm of the mountain valley. Before anything could begin in earnest, the skies began to darken as a violent storm as Mithrandir made his way between the whole of us and warned of the threat far greater to us than ourselves—the coming of a great Orc Army led by Bolg. He called for the leader of the Dwarves army and he came forward quickly—his long hair and beard the color of burning embers.

“Dáin, son of Náin,” he said to the dwarf. “It is time to defend that which brought you here else you will lose it again to something far more evil than a dragon.”

He nodded and we all followed Mithrandir to my tent. Once inside, the tension seemed to lower as we stood looking at one another.

“I have not seen Thorin for years,” Dáin said gruffly. “But if he is anything like his father, he will not come down for anything save a fight.”

“Well, then he will soon have his wish, for there comes a horde that comes swiftly will be great,” Mithrandir said. “Bolg brings with him Wolves and Wargs. We are in peril, I am afraid.”

“How great,” I asked, remembering Dagorlad.

“They come from the North,” he answered. “I said the name of their leader for I knew Dáin would find a better reason to fight.”

“I took down his father Azog at Azanulbizar,” he said proudly. “I will gladly take down his son.”

“I will take the Eastern arm,” Bard said. “If you will, Dáin, as we are fewer in number than the elves, stand with us?”

“Thranduil,” Mithrandir said quietly. “Again you stand beside elves and men to fight evil once more. I know your heart, for it is like that of Oropher.”

“You are the son of Oropher,” Dáin asked approaching me his face bearing a smile. “This is an honor indeed. The tales of his bravery have been passed down over many generations. Thorin perhaps forgotten in his rush to vengeance for his father.”

He bowed so graciously, I began to feel ashamed for putting Thorin in my dungeons.

“Perhaps I may have put him away to hastily,” I said. “I have given him no reason to fight with me this day.”

“He will get over that,” Dáin said laughing. “Once he’s run a blade through an orc, he will come round.”

“Then I will take the North,” I said. “It will be easier for the archers to fire within the valley as the guard and shield gather at the base.”

“I will go with the elves,” a voice cried from outside our tent. From around the corner came Bilbo standing in his armor with his sword.

“I think he has grown fond of you, Thranduil,” Mithrandir said.

I bent down to look him in the face.

“Well, now, it is I that would be honored,” I said.

“Let us prepare, then,” Bard said. “A battle awaits us.”

We left my tent—each to his warriors to prepare for war. I hoped that Bilbo would stay safe within the walls of Dale, for the death of a halfling would weigh heavily upon me. I knew too well this evil I would face once again. When I saw Aradin, I approached him.

“Aradin,” I began as Bilbo came toward us.

“Your Majesty,” he answered as he saw the Hobbit approaching. “Is that a perian?”

“Yes,” I answered. “He wishes to fight with us on this day.”

“Are we are going to battle against the Dwarves,” he asked.

“No, beside them,” I answered. “Against the orc horde that approaches.”

His face twisted in horror as Nimlos nearly stumbled over Bilbo.

“Many apologies,” Nimlos said to him. “Thranduil, why are the Men and Dwarves marching toward the Eastern side of the Valley?”

“We are about to fight the Orc Horde approaching us from the North,” I said. “Have your men ready at the base of Ravenhill.”

“As you wish,” he said.

“Aradin, will cover Ravenhill from above,” I said looking at him. “Do not forget Bilbo. Make sure he does not see one drop of blood.”

“As you wish,” Aradin said bowing. “Come with me, little one.”

Bilbo smiled as he past me—eager to contribute his skill to war. Nimlos looked at me puzzled.

“Thranduil,” he began. “Should I tell Elranduil about this arrangement?”

“Of course. After the battle should we survive.”

Nimlos nodded and went his way. I looked toward the mountain’s peak once again—hoping I would not see what Mithrandir said would rise beneath it. The calm had settled before the storm. When I found Eldôr I informed him of my plans.

“Uncle,” I said, “Please stay with Fëaluin in my tent.”

“Why,” he asked. “If the horde is so great, you will need every available warrior.”

“I lost my father and do not wish to lose you.”

“Thranduil, I will be fine on the field. This not my first battle and it will not be my last.”

I looked at him—younger than my father just then. He was all that I had to remind me of my youth when I knew only peace.

“I know,” I said. “But someone should remain here to protect the camp.”

“Very well,” he said. “But I know who comes and if I am here, your loss will be greater. Súriar will be with him. I will not fall this day, Thranduil. I will be until the end.”

He bowed and walked toward his men. He would keep his word, I knew. I walked to the head of my armies and mounted. As they stood before me, I felt we could win the day.

“Once more we are called to rise against the shadow that has taken from everything from us. Our name and our kingdom. With honor we fight, by duty we will win. This day we will defeat them and take from them what they have stolen from us!”

A thunderous roar came from my army and I led them toward our position. It was not a moment too soon as our enemy filled the valley. The banners of Men, Dwarves and Elves rose once more as we charged into battle.

As my armies fought on the valley floor, arrows rained down from above, seldom missing their mark. The hordes were strong and greater in number, and my blade ran through so many, my armor had turned black with their blood. It was a barrier that continued to push as close to the mountain wall fiercely. I could not tell the light of day from the dark of night until I heard a powerful voice calling to us. I had never heard such powerful voice. I looked to fallen ruin of the gate of Erebor and saw Thorin charging toward the battle with his company. Another voice soon filled the air—singing or chanting. It was not until I heard warriors all round chanting the same thing that I realized they were saying ‘Eagles’ over and over again until their words faded into the sounds of blades and shields coming together. As the day came to its end, the floor of the valley was strewn with the corpses of orcs, wargs and wolves mingles with some men and dwarves.

I looked eastward and smiled as I saw Bard and Dáin walking toward me. My joy was shortened at the sight of two young dwarves lying dead before me. I remembered them as the younger of all the dwarves I had hastily imprisoned.

"Fíli and Kíli,” Dáin said as he approached. “Thorin’s nephews. Heirs of Durin. Sons of Stíahn and Dís, sister of Thorin.”

I felt my chest tighten as my heart was heavy. They met the fate of their father and many of their ancestors before them.

“Thranduil,” I heard Nimlos yell from a short distance. “He is here. He is here.”

I looked to see Elranduil and Nimlos moving dead orcs and wolves. We walked over to see a mortally wounded Thorin Oakenshield.

“Thorin,” Dáin said. “You do not look well.”

“Neither do you,” Thorin whispered. “Where are Fíli and Kíli?”

“Lost to us,” he whispered back.

“Take him to my tent,” I said Nimlos.

They went their way as Dáin followed. Bard stood stunned as he looked around.

“We have won the battle,” he said. “But to what end?”

“None,” I said. “This is only the beginning.”

“I pray when my child returns, this is not what greets him,” he said.

“You have a son,” I asked as ten dwarves approached us. “What is his name, if I may ask?”

“Bain,” he answered. “Do you have a son?”

“Two. One given and one born to me.”

When the company of dwarves had come to us, one with white hair and beard to match stepped from behind one of them.

“I am Balin,” he said, bowing. “This is my brother, Dwalin and our cousins Óin and Glóin. And they are Ori, Nori, Dori, Bofur, Bombur and Bifur.”

They all bowed slowly, their faces fallen as they looked down, crestfallen.

“You seek Thorin,” I said. “He is alive but not much longer. I am afraid that the others are gone.”

“No,” said the one called Glóin. His hair was much like Dáin’s with whispers of white.

“Where is our cousin,” said the one called Dwalin. “Please tell us.”

“Thranduil has sent him to his tent in Dale,” Bard said, pointing. “It is the largest one.”

“Thank you,” Balin said.

Sadly they walked away, stopping only briefly at the bodies of their fallen kin. When four men walked by, Bard motioned to them.

“Take away the fallen of Durin,” he said. “So that they may be laid to rest.”

They nodded and took up the bodies of Fíli and Kíli with great care. I looked around and suddenly I remembered for what I was looking.

“Where is Bilbo,” I asked. “We need to find him.”

We looked around calling for him on the battlefield until night began to fall. We thought he may have made it to Dale and we ran to our tent where the dwarves stood around Thorin. There was no sign of him. Bard sent his two messengers to find him accompanied by two elves that were not harmed in battle to assist in their search.

As the night passed slowly, I went to my tent to see Thorin. He was alone.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” I said.

“Thranduil,” he answered back softly.

“So you know my name,” I said.

“Yes,” he answered. “I would have said as much had you allowed me to do so when I came into Mirkwood.”

“I apologize. I did not know.”

“Apology accepted,” he said.

“Your valor reminded me of King Durin,” I said. “I was there with him at Dagorlad.”

“Thranduil, son of Oropher,” he began weakly. “King of Greenwood the Great. Lord of the Woodland Realm. I know the stories. Tell me, what did Durin look like? Do you remember?”

“I remember it as if it were yesterday,” I answered. “He looked much like you. Rest, now. For soon will come someone I know you wish to see, Your Majesty.”

I bowed to him went from my tent into the darkness. It was there I saw Mithrandir approaching—his arm bound within a sling.

“Are come for Thorin,” I asked. “He grows weaker.”

“You are far more noble than is said of you,” he said. “But I have known this for some time.”

“I regret that I acted far less than noble with him,” I said. “I wish I had known him longer and I shall regret that far more.”

I left quickly to be alone--upon the rugged terrace where I came my first night into Dale. For the first time, I could see every star in the sky as I had in my youth.

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

I learned that there were not many of my warriors lost and those wounded would live to see another day. Eldôr went unharmed through the entire battle—so did my council. Before we left, we would attend Thorin’s burial. I had to return something to him that I had taken.

Into the heart of the mountain we went and beside Bard I stood as lanterns lit the way to where his tomb would remain forever. I had seen far too much death in my lifetime—over many generations of all other creatures in Arda. This thing called death took many souls including my wife. I knew I would never understand what it was like to pass into eternal darkness. I would never stop wondering what the dead could see and what their ears could hear.

Surrounded by elves, dwarves, men, Bard placed the Arkenstone on Thorin’s chest and I put with him the Orcrist to protect his resting place and palace of King Dáin II Ironfoot for all time. As we left Thorin for the last time within the mountain, I passed by Bilbo and the skin-changer of the North named Beorn, for in the shape of a great bear, he alone had saved Thorin from being torn to shreds by the son of Azog, Bolg whom he had killed.

When all was done, I prepared to leave. I was sad to leave new friends behind but joyous to return to my home and my sons. Bard came to see me off and had his two messengers bring to me a chest.

“It is rather heavy,” said one.

“You are carrying it wrong,” said the other.

“Talkative,” Bard said shaking his head. “But admirable. Too show our gratitude for your kindness, I would like to give you a gift. I thought they were lost to us but they had been within Lonely Mountain for safe keeping I learned from Dáin.”

He opened the box to show me emeralds that sparkled in the sun as stars and were as leaves of the woodland realm in spring.

“These are the Emeralds of Girion,” he said. “I can think none better than Mirkwood to have them. My people have plenty now.”

“Yes, they do,” I said, as Nimlos and Fëaluin took the chest from the two messengers with little trouble. “They have found peace with the King under the Mountain and prepare to crown a king of their own.”

“Safe journey home to your kingdom, King Thranduil,” he said kindly. “May the three kingdoms in the East remain united.”

“Most certainly, King Bard I of Esgaroth,” I said.

I mounted my horse and turned my army toward Mirkwood. Mithrandir, Bilbo and Beorn would accompany us to where the Forest River flowed into Long Lake at the North East borders of my kingdom.

We came to where we would part ways and I dismounted to stand once more with my new friends.

“Beorn,” I began. “You are welcome beyond the borders of my kingdom and within my halls whenever you wish.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said, as he bowed. “You and your people are welcome into my home as well.”

“I will see you again,” I said to Mithrandir and Bilbo. “This was quite an adventure, but it remains unfinished. But for now, you have helped to bring to this world a peace long needed.”

Bilbo pulled from his things a necklace of silver and white put it in my hand in return for my hospitality but I knew his gesture came out of friendship. To him I gave the title of “Elf-friend”.

As we parted company, the forest seemed to return to what I remembered when I was young. The creatures of the forest had returned and there were birds I had not heard for what seemed an eternity.

“It feels like Eryn Galen once more,” I said. “It feels like home.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 7-10-16

Chapter XX: Prelude to War (Pt. V)

“The journey to Esgaroth was not a long one—lengthened by hours rather than days for the elven warriors. Lingering in the forests were those of the race of Men that had escaped death from the wrath of Smaug. As we moved toward the ruins of the lost city of Dale there was no mistaking the sight of the rotting corpse of a dragon slowly slipping into Long Lake.

I commanded my army to stop. As night fell, the once great city of  Dale started to be lit by lantern. Rising high above was the shadow of Erebor—where Thráin had made his home after he had left my kingdom.

“Bring me the men,” I commanded.

Before were two men that had come to me in mercy. They were now clean in fresh clothes and seemed joyful to return to nothing.

“Dale she rises,” one said. “There is not more beautiful a city.”

“I will ask you, to lead us to it then,” I said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the other said. “It would be an honor.”

“Strange they are,” Elranduil whispered as we started to follow them.

I did not answer him—I was thinking about returning to my own home as I had done over a thousand years before. Not even my father would have come this far east of the kingdom. As we moved closer to the ruins, I could see Men moving around within the ancient city walls. Once we were in view for all to see, the sound of thunderous cheer greeted us. I could not tell one from another except for their dress that was covered in dirt and soot. One approached us as entered into what we would have been the heart of Dale. The two men bowed to the man, and he seemed less than gracious for it. Though he was no more ragged than the rest of his people, he stood to be of noble kin—for his bow was slight and measured and his demeanor reserved even as his people cheered for us.

“I see you have made it safely into our humble city,” he said. “For that I am as grateful for the provisions you bring to us.”

I dismounted from my horse and stood before this man—his hair was earthen and his face strong but weathered. Even under the stars, his green eyes were gracious and kind.

“Bard, Lord of Esgaroth,” I said, motioning to Fëaluin. “I see I have come in good time.”

“Yes,” he said. “I hope my messengers were no bother to you. They are the fastest of my men, but they can be somewhat talkative.”

“They were no trouble to me,” I said. “I cannot speak for my council.”

“They were talkative,” Fëaluin said. “But admirable.”

Bard smiled, breaking the formalities. Fëaluin turned and gave the order to begin distributing to the people all that was brought. Bard led me, Eldôr, Elranduil, Nimlos and Fëaluin away from growing crowds.

We were led upon rugged terrace where stood a tall shadow looking toward Erebor. No sooner had I steppe across the threshold, he turned—an aging figure of a creature I knew was not a Man or and Elf.

“Mithrandir,” Eldôr whispered to Elranduil as a warning to keep quiet.

“Thranduil,” he said. “I knew you would come. You are your father’s son.”

“You knew my father,” I asked, nearly forgetting my composure.

“There are few in this world, even now, that have not heard of Oropher of Eryn Galen, even as your kingdom fell under the wretched curse of Sauron from Dol Guldur. Few of Men remember for their lives are far shorter than ours.”

“Why are here,” I asked curiously.

“I am watching the mountain,” he answered looking toward it. “Something lingers within and I am quite sure it will come forth rather shortly.”

“You mean Thorin and his company,” Bard said. “You think they could have survived the anger of Smaug?”

“I know they have,” he said. “Thorin is this mountain—strong, if he is less than good company to keep. They have with them one of my own choosing. Clever little creature, hobbits are. And most accommodating. If he made it this far with Thorin and Company, they are still very much alive.”

“Yes, the hobbit,” I said. “Bard’s men spoke of him when they came to me.”

“Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End,” he said as the breeze caught his flowing white beard near long and white as his hair. “Adventurous that one for not many of his people are. He is in there and very much alive. More so than Smaug, very much so.”

“If they are there, Gandalf, then we should make plans to see about them,” Bard said.

“Send guards to look for a stirring,” I said. “Why waste a day in search of this company. If they are alive then they will surely be in need of something. He cannot  eat the treasure that lies within. Thorin knows this.”

“Knowing is far a lesser thing than wanting,” Gandalf said. “Want kept a dragon from the light of day for well over a hundred years.”

One of my guards approached me and bowed.

“Your quarters are ready, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Thank you,” I answered. “The hour grows late and there is still more to do.”

“I must agree,” Bard answered. “I should see about my people before I take my rest.”

He bowed and left us toward the waning crowds of people.

“Good man,” I said. “Regal, dare I say.”

“He will have to be,” Gandalf said, his voice turning darker in tone. “A falling dragon is not a sound that will go easily unheard as you know, Thranduil.”

“I know all too well, Mithrandir,” I said. “I take my leave until morning, then.”

He nodded and returned his gaze toward the mountain as we left.

“I do not like the sound of that,” Elranduil said.

“You should not like the sound of that,” I said. “We will not be here long, but less than pleasant days lie ahead.”

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

There came a stirring within the mountain as we were told. It was decided to reason with the King under the Mountain. I did not express my thoughts as the now two joined armies of elves and men approached the mountain. Where the dragon had made his escape was prevalent—so were the sentiments of Thorin Oakenshield. He would not yield even a small penitence for a share to help the people of Esgaroth. For me, it was obvious my presence was not welcomed.

“You did throw him in the dungeon,” Fëaluin said. “I would not be fond of you, either.”

“That is not the point,” I said angrily.

“Why did you put him in the dungeon,” Bard asked curiously.

“For the dreadful mistake of finding Thranduil in a foul mood,” Fëaluin answered as he was going through several scrolls.

“So, what do you suggest we do now, Bard” I asked quietly. “Mithrandir was right. Thorin is not only alive, he has gone rather mad with delusions of grandeur.”

“We perhaps try again tomorrow,” Bard said quietly. I could see he was starting to lose patience. “What we ask would not be missed.”

“Missed, but not unnoticed,” I said. “Thorin would most surely remember and never let you forget.”

We had besieged the small company of Dwarves inside the mountain and as night fell, I was anxious to get on with plans to return home. I thought of my sons but my mind could not let go of Êlenuil. Before my thoughts strayed further, Elranduil and Nimlos entered my tent as Fëaluin left to find Eldôr. Between them walked a very small, furry-footed creature into my tent.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Elranduil said. “But this little fellow was looking for Bard.”

“I am not aware of what exactly it is,” Nimlos said still poking him.

“I am a Baggins,” the creature scolded. “Bilbo Baggins, I arrived here with Thorin Oakenshield and his Company.”

I motioned for them to leave.

“So, you are the Hobbit,” I said smiling. “Mithrandir spoke well of you. I am The Elvenking of Mirkwood, but you already know that, do you not?”

This creature was rather peculiar—smaller than a dwarf and larger than an elven child but fully grown. He was not too wretched looking—with his eyes wide and dark with brown curly hair on his head and feet. Demanding and irritatingly so, I was curious all the more as he spoke with me and Bard—wearing armor of the elves. He presented us with a gift of the Arkenstone, the heart of the Mountain he had taken. I marveled at the beauty of the stone that shone with the light of time within. What a little adventurer! He shown me to be rather clever and engaging and loyal as he returned to the mountain to be with his companions.

“This may keep us from waging war,” Bard said. “Perhaps.”

I did not say a word. I was thinking about what Bilbo had said about the coming of the Dwarves of the Iron Hills. I had seen the ancestors of Thorin pass through my kingdom and was well aware of their plight to find a new home not long after Sauron had settled at Dol Guldur. They would not think twice to take back the symbol of the House of Durin by any means.

The next day Bard tried again to reason with Thorin—this time with Mithrandir and the Arkenstone. In anger of Bilbo’s betrayal, he nearly threw him down to the stony ruins below to the horror of everyone. Bard gave one more day to pay what was due. With Bilbo safely with us, we returned to camp and waited for the day to come.”--Excerpt from the TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-9-16

Chapter XX: Prelude to War (Pt. IV)

“Later in the evening, I was in my chambers with Fëaluin preparing to leave for Esgaroth at dawn. I would leave the protection of Mirkwood in the hands of Legolas should I not return. My face was far younger than my age—as it is with elves. Though I was younger than my father when he feel, I was no longer a youth.

“You mustn’t think such things, Thranduil,” Fëaluin said. “You will return, I am sure of it. And with you will come and go will be Súriar, for his father will go west as we go east.”

“Iarûr leaves, and thusly will Finëar and Nenduriel,” I added. “For Nimlúin has come of age.”

“True, but she will stay, of course. For Aruilos and their daughter, Aradûial.”

“Have I grown so old that generations pass as seasons, Fëaluin,” I asked.

“You do not look a day over 5000, Thranduil.”

“Neither do you, Fëaluin.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Considering I am far older than you are, that is a complement.”

As servants passed in and out my chamber doors, I watched them as they were fireflies flitting around. I was going off to battle again—leading soldiers into battle as my father once had done as king.

Shortly, Elranduil entered with Eldôr and our four sons following closely behind. Legolas and Tarthôn sat upon my bed with Ardôr and Orísil while I sat down along the familiar window seat as Fëaluin began to roll together scrolls and plans.

“Thranduil, you are calm tonight,” Elranduil said as he sat beside me. “I gather you are ready for the journey to Esgaroth. I ordered several barrels of miruvóre.”

“You sound as you have had plenty as it is, Elranduil,” I said.

“Not for us. For the Lord of Esgaroth. What is his name, Father?”

“Bard," Eldôr said as he helped Fëaluin. “Long descended from Girion. He is more as the Dúnedain. Quite noble.”

“Of course,” Fëaluin agreed. “Aradin taught Girion well and since, their archers are equal in marksmanship.”

“Ada, why must we stay,” Legolas finally said. “We are able to fight if there is a need.”

“Who will look after the kingdom is you go,” I asked. “All of you must remain to protect our people.”

“As princes of the Realm,” Fëaluin said. “It is your duty to do so.”

“I wish I could stay with you,” I said. “But people of Esgaroth need our help and I cannot leave the throne unattended.”

“Perhaps I should stay,” Elranduil said. “It is not good to leave our sons unattended.”

“It is not good to leave you unattended, Ada,” Ardôr said laughing.

Elranduil gave his son a nasty glance as I tried not to laugh. When Fëaluin and Eldôr had finished their work, servants nearby took the scrolls from the room.

“Come, Elranduil,” Eldôr said. “Leave Thranduil to his sons. Orísil, Ardôr as well. I need you for you two to keep an eye on your father.”

As Elranduil stood to leave, he looked at me smiling at him.

“Unattended,” he said, as he followed Fëaluin and the others out of the room. “There is no end to your wit, dear father. I will see you at dawn, Thranduil.”

Once I was alone with my sons, they looked at me—their faces still long from having to stay.

“You are afraid you will not return,” Legolas asked. “That is why we must stay.”

“Legolas,” I began. “This is not your fight nor is it Tarthôn’s. Your day will come.”

“Can you not spare me,” Tarthôn asked. “I am older than Legolas.”

“No,” I said, knowing what he meant. “Neither one of you are to leave this palace until I return.”

“And should you not return, what then, Ada,” Legolas yelled as he stood up and stormed toward me. “What will happen to Mirkwood?”

I rose calmly and faced Legolas—his eyes remaining me of his mother.

“Whatever you wish to happen, Legolas,” I said quietly. “It is your kingdom as much as it is mine, remember?”

We stood staring at each other for what seemed an eternity. Legolas grew more angry—he had inherited my swift anger as much as his mother’s gentility.

“I do not wish to rule,” he whispered. “I know that is what you want if you do not return.”

“I am afraid you do not have a choice, Legolas. It is your birthright as my heir. The blood of Oropher flows in your veins. You will do as I say. I will not give in to you this time.”

I looked toward Tarthôn. He sat quietly, his expression stoic. I had two sons—one that wished to fall in battle as his father and the other not wanting to rule as an heir. I could not help but see myself in both of them.

“Tarthôn, come to me,” I said.

He dutifully obeyed. When they were both before me, I took a deep breath.

“I will return from Esgaroth,” I began. “I know that I will. But, should I fall, I would rather do that without either one of you there to see it. I know what it is to lose a father. I know what it is lose my wife. I know what is like to lose a child I will never hold. I do not wish to lose either one of you. Without you, I would fall to something far worse than an orc’s blade. You mean more to me than my throne and everything to this kingdom. Do you understand?”

They both looked down at the floor.

“I understand,” Legolas said, looking at me. “I will do as you ask.”

“As will I,” Tarthôn said, still looking down as he did as a child.

“I promise I will return to you,” I said. “Promise me you will still be here upon my return.”

“Yes, Ada,” they said together.

I embraced them both and kissed their foreheads. I did not want to let them go. They were all I had in the world. I released them with tears in my eyes.

“Take your leave, sons,” I said. “See me off at dawn.”

They turned away and watched them leave my chambers. I went to my bed and lay down. I closed my eyes. I thought of Êlúriel. Then darkness turned to sunset as the sea stretched out before me. I could hear the waves lapping against the docks of Mithlond as the falling sun cast a hue of red and orange and violet upon them. I felt a breeze and someone beside me. It was Êlúriel dressed in white, her hair falling all round her as a golden brown halo.

“You came back to me and you will return to them,” she said.

“Êlúriel,” I asked. “Is it you."

She turned to me and smiled.

“You see with your eyes what is in your heart,” she said.

“I miss you so much,” I said. “I wish to be with you again. I do not care how dark it is where you are.”

She gave the same sharp look she always would when I made her angry.

“No, Thranduil,” she said. “I wish to be with you where you are.”

I turned to her and touched her face. Just as soft as always.

“I know,” I said. “But that will never be again.”

She smiled.

“I love you, Thranduil,” she said. “Too much I am afraid.”

“Far too much, Êlúriel. I do not mind.”

She kissed me and I could feel her lips on mine. It was eternity reaching out to me when time would let me go.

“You promised to return to me,” she said. “You kept your word. It is time I keep mine.”

“I do not understand,” I said. “Keep your word?”

She smiled again and began to fade away.

“Look upon the horizons,” she said. Then I was alone on the dock I looked out to the sea and dusk turned to twilight and the waters began to turn to black.

“Êlúriel,” I heard myself say but the words seemed to fall into silence.

Then there I stood between two young elves—a boy with golden hair and a girl with hair the color of Êlúriel’s.

“She will return,” he said. “As twilight comes before the dawn."

“And as twilight comes before sunset,” she said. “She will return.”

“Will you take us there,” the boy said, pointing to the west.

“Yes, he will,” the girl answered. “You will, will you not?”

“I do not know,” I answered. “Who are you?”

“You know who we are,” the boy said defiantly. “Starlight and Fire Moon.”

“Yes,” the girl said. “Starlight and Fire Moon.”

They looked at me—between youth and adulthood waiting for an answer. I could not find words to say to them. I found a love for them I did not know I had for reasons unknown. It was night—one without a moon and the waters were black everything began to grow darker—falling to ruin. The children were gone and I opened my eyes. I was alone in my chambers. It was night and I realized I had another vision.

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

When dawn had come, I was put into my armor. Upon the mantle I would leave my crown and wear my diadem. I left my chambers and passed a court of elves bowing as I made my way to the front gate. Before I walked out, I saw Êlenuil standing as if he were waiting for me. I stopped for him.

“Yes, Êlenuil,” I asked.

“You will return, will you not,” he asked in the same voice as the children I saw before.

“I will, Êlenuil,” I answered. “I promise.”

The gates opened and as it was centuries before a mighty army of elven warriors stood before me. I walked across the bridge where at the end waited Legolas and Tarthôn. Elranduil was already mounted. They brought me my horse as I turned to my sons.

“I am looking to you to take care of our people while I am away,” I said. “They will look to you until I return.”

They nodded.

I mounted my horse and looked around. I realized everyone was waiting my command. I was no longer the prince riding off to battle behind his father. I was the king leading my army. I faced forward and raised my hand. The banners went up—bright green against the grey skies of winter.  When I lowered it, we began our journey toward Esgaroth. I looked back to see Legolas watching me ride away. Beside him was Êlenuil.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 7-5-16

Chapter XX: Prelude to War (Pt. III)

It was not long after the company of dwarves were in my dungeons that I was walking down the empty halls toward my study when I saw two elven boys talking quietly. When they saw me, I heard one speak.

“It is the king,” the one with hair the color of night said and eyes the color of his father. It was Elendôr, son Ardôr.

The other seemed quiet and afraid, standing behind Elendôr in fear, though they were both near the same size. I stopped before them curiously.

“What frightens you,” I asked. “I will not harm you.”

The second boy slowly came forward and frightened me more than I could have him. His hair, much like his father’s—the color of my own. His eyes were the near color of mine and his face reminded me of my own as a youth.

“How you have grown, Êlenuil,” I said. “You and your brother Elendôr.”

“Yes,” Êlenuil said softly. “We are almost as tall as Legolas.”

“So I see. He tells me you both have improved in your fighting. Soon you shall join your father and grandfather on the hunt with him.”

They bowed as I entered my study. For a moment, I thought of Êlenuil. Little was ever spoken of him since his birth. One of few born in Arda that remained under the protection of Elves—far from the eyes of Sauron. Words whispered here and there could be caught in the wind far too easily and find themselves in peril.

As I sat in my chair, turned to reading what was before me on my table. I could not help but continue to wonder about Thorin Oakenshield. Too proud to speak or perhaps I was too proud to listen. The shadow that loomed forth from Dol Guldur had weakened but had started to grow stronger in Mordor once more. Then there was the matter of Isengard. Before I had time to reason longer, my entire council entered my study.

“What is this,” I asked standing before them.

“Did you release the Dwarves,” Fëaluin asked.

“Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?”

“They are no longer in the dungeon,” Elranduil said. “They are gone. All of them.”

“How is that possible,” I asked. “It is impenetrable.”

“Someone used the keys,” Eldôr said. “I suspect one of our own.”

“I do not think that possible,” Aramír said. “There are few Silvans that would do such a thing.”

“How would you know, brother,” Aramoth began. “You are a Sinda.”

“What are you then, brother,” Aramír quipped.

“You know where they are headed,” Nimlos said. “Down the river to Esgaroth beyond the ruins of Dale.”

“How long has it been since they have gone missing,” I asked.

“I am not quite sure,” Elmîr answered. “But it is nearly the end of autumn. I could have happened at any time since their capture.”

“They will come upon the people of Esgaroth for aide to Erebor,” Sildôr said to him. “They will try to go into the Mountain, I am sure.”

“There is a dragon in there,” Findôl said. “That wouldn’t be wise.”

“Between wisdom and ignorance lies a very fine line,” I said. “For what lies in the mountain is worth more to them than living. We have far more to worry about than a company of missing dwarves determined to die. Should the make it to their destination, orcs and spiders will be the least of our problems or for Esgaroth.”

“True,” Fëaluin said. “But there are bowmen in Esgaroth as good as any elf.”

“I am sure, but dragon fire is not impervious to an arrow,” I said. “Have Aradin prepare for the worse. I will not watch this kingdom burn to the ground. We have been through enough as it is. We live as despotic thieves as it is. Taking whatever we can to survive. This is not the Kingdom my father left me and we have become what the world thinks of us! No more!”

The room fell silent as my council stood before me in wonderment. I must have appeared to them as fierce as a dragon. In the uncomfortable silence, I wondered if someone or something would end it. Suddenly, there came a rumble and horrific roar.

“I will go after Aradin,” Elmîr said quickly.

“Come, Aramoth,” Aramír said. “Gather the guard.”

Before any of them could leave the room, the earth shook around us as Legolas and Tarthôn rushed in with Ardôr, Orísil and Aruilos behind them.

“Is the world at its end, Ada,” Legolas asked. “It has grown dark in the day and now the earth shakes.”

I did not know what to say to my sons. I could be the end of our world for all I knew. Until the earth gave one last shake that was so violent, we all fell to the floor. Then came nothing. I looked at Legolas and Tarthôn fearing I had lost them. All around we began to stand up slowly. Soon Elenadar and Elenatar entered the room.

“What was that,” Elenadar asked his father.

“A dragon, son,” Fëaluin answered. “Are you both alright?”

“Yes, Ada,” Elenatar said. “Did you say a dragon?”

“How are you my brother at all,” Elenadar said, swatting his twin. “That is what he said.”

When all were standing, I saw my study had fallen into somewhat of a mess, but everyone seemed unharmed. Still shaken, we waited cautiously for something to come again. Into the room walked Nînuir, Aradin, and Sildúr. They bowed to me.

“Smaug has fallen, Your Majesty,” Nînuir said smiling.

“Taken out by a bowman, no doubt,” Aradin said. “Only one could take him down that I know.”

“That is one less evil in this world,” Sildúr added.

“What he took with him, I dare not imagine,” I said, wondering if the dwarves had perished.

Nimlúin rushed into the room with several ladies taking to their men, Mîráre among them.

“Uncle, is it over,” she asked Fëaluin. “It gave Nenduriel a horrible fright.”

“Everything gives Nenduriel a horrible fright,” Elranduil said, holding Ardúin as Nimlúin went to see about Aruilos. “None more than Thranduil.”

I gave him a wicked look that only made him laugh.

“Are you well, Legolas,” Mîráre asked.

“Yes, Mîráre,” he answered, his face flushed. “I am well.”

“Tarthôn,” I said. “Not a word.”

He stood with his wife Ëariâth trying not to laugh.

“While all of your fearless elven warriors were hiding,” Ardúin began, “Someone came to us from Esgaroth.”

I walked through the growing crowd in my study that had started to include elven children looking for their parents and entered the courtroom where two wretched humans stood covered in water and soot. Both were men, sent from what now were the remains of Esgaroth. They bowed.

“Your Majesty, we come in peace,” one man said.

“I can see that,” I said. “As you are I doubt you could come any other way.”

“We come from the lake town of Esgaroth seeking your help, Your Majesty,” said the other, standing slightly shorter than the other.

“What of Esgaroth,” I asked. “Is it all but gone?”

“Little can save her,” the first replied. “We have nothing. What Smaug did not burn, he crushed when he fell.”

“What of the Mountain,” I asked curiously. “How did he come to leave? He coveted that treasure with vengeance for years.”

“I am not sure, Your Majesty,” the second answered. “But a company of Dwarves went there led by Thorin Oakenshield.”

“The King under the mountain,” the first began. “He is still in there I believe.”

“With a hobbit,” the second answered. “Yes, with a hobbit. I never saw one up close until then.”

“We are here asking for mercy,” the first one whispered. “Not to tell a story.”

“I am aware of that,” the second said. “But perhaps His Majesty would like to know.”

I did want to know but said nothing as Elranduil, Eldôr and Fëaluin approached.

“Fëaluin, take them to food and rest,” I said. “And have them thoroughly washed so they are recognizable.”

He smiled at the men and nodded. He escorted them away.

“What will we do now, Thranduil,” Elranduil asked. “We cannot leave them to hunger in Esgaroth. They have been kind to us.”

“I had no plans of it,” I answered. “But you know what comes, Eldôr.”

“I do,” Eldôr said, motioning to Nimlos. “That sound did not go unnoticed.”

Nimlos came to me quietly. He nodded.

“More fighting there will be then,” he said. “I will prepare for battle.”

“Prepare for battle,” I said. “Plan for war.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 7-3-16

Chapter XX: Prelude to War (Pt. II)

“His name was Thorin Oakenshield. I knew his name long before I saw his face. When it came before me, the circumstance would take my kingdom into war once more.

Autumn had come and through thickets of thorns streams of sunlight illuminated the colors of the season. A lull had fallen softer than a whisper as the glamhoth and spiders kept to themselves. Few were the moments when we were not at war within our own kingdom since evil had made its home on the southern borders.

The day had begun as a surprise—for I found myself lying in my bed for the first time since I lost Êlúriel. How I longed for her to lie next to me again. Memories of her felt like the blade of a sword driven through my heart. Each time I wanted to fall upon that blade and be laid to rest beside her. Somehow, she must have known these thoughts because they were always interrupted.

There came a knock at my chamber doors disrupting my melancholy.

“Enter,” I said. 

I thought it would be Fëaluin or servants come to dress me for the day. I was wrong, as it was Legolas. I sat straight up as he entered and sat on the side of the bed.

“Ada,” he said quietly. “I have not seen you in this bed since Nana died.”

“True,” I answered. “I must have forgotten myself last evening.”

The kingdom was in much celebration for the seasons but for Legolas’ conception and my 2900 years upon the throne. Days of endless happiness spread through the shadows bringing light to us once more. I found it hard to smile knowing my Êlúriel could not be with me.

“Have you seen Elendôr,” he asked. “He is growing up well. Ardôr and Ninyáre seem very happy.”

“Not since his birth, Legolas. I have been rather occupied with my duties. What is it that you are not saying?”

“Nothing, Ada.”

“Legolas, what is it?”

He turned at looked at me—his face very much like his mother’s when in deep thought.

“Elranduil speaks of when you were my age,” he began. “He said that your father and mother sought for you a suitable wife. Why have you not done the same with me?”

“You wish me to parade maidens before you and force you to choose a wife among them,” I asked surprised. “I chose your mother with my heart, and I have allowed the other princes of this realm to do the same.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “I know.”

“I thought you well matched with Mîráre. Is there something amiss?”

“No, Ada. But she knows me and knows I long for something I cannot explain. I thought you may wish to keep me from it.” 

I motioned for Legolas to turn as I rose from my bed and covered myself. I turned and looked at my son curiously. He had seemed rather distant for a while—even from Tarthôn. 

“You wish me to keep you from whatever you cannot explain,” I said. “If I knew what that was, it would be somewhat easier to know how to do so. I hardly think courting perspective wives is the answer especially when I know how you feel about Mîráre.”

Another knock came to my doors.

“Enter,” I said, still puzzled by my son’s behavior. This time the servants came with Fëaluin and Eldôr.

“The forest awakens,” Eldôr said.

I noticed Legolas turn from melancholy to concerned and prepared to fight.

“More orcs,” I asked. “I suppose the peace would not last long.”

“No,” Fëaluin said. “Something quite different. There are subjects claiming to see small people roaming around as if the seek something.”

“Small people,” Legolas asked. “Why would an elf fear small people?”

“For a few days now they seem to appear from the shadows,” Eldôr said. “One said they saw one take aim at a white stag. I suppose it would be for food if one were desperate enough.”

 Legolas began toward the door quickly.

“Legolas, stay,” I said. “Fëaluin, have Nînuir send someone to find these small people. They sound surprisingly like dwarves to me and we have not seen any for sometime. I would think they were all but driven from Khazâd-dûm by now or lost to time.”

“Very well,” he answered as Legolas sat down on the bed anxiously.

They left as my servants began to dress me. From my mirror, I could see my son appear lost again.

“Legolas,” I began slowly. “I want nothing more than your happiness, but I cannot give to you what you must find for yourself. Your mother once said that she saw great things for you. She said you would do great things. I am afraid I cannot tell you what they are and if she were here, neither would she.”

“Why would she not tell me,” he asked as the servants finished their duties and left us alone.

“I am afraid, Legolas, your mother was rather peculiar at times.”

I smiled remembering things she would say that would drive me to madness or laughter. I found myself feeling as though she were there, her arms around me and her eyes upon me. 

“Peculiar,” Legolas asked smiling. “How so?”

 “I do not think there any words I could find to explain her. There was no other elven maiden in all of Arda as your mother. To have loved her was a privilege and to be loved by her was an honor. There was no greater love than ours.”

Legolas smiled at me. He looked painfully like his mother—beautiful and near perfect in my eyes. He stood before me—this fully grown elf that I once held as a newborn. I wondered if this is what his mother would see in her visions of him. Then I remembered the vision I had during the War of the Last Alliance. I was looking at the face in that vision and I knew she had seen the same.

“Come, son,” I said. “Take me to see Elendôr.”

“Yes, Ada.”

As we walked into the hall, Elranduil approached me.

“Someone awaits an audience with you, Thranduil,” he said sternly. “Come.”

Bewildered, I followed him as Legolas remained where he stood with a look of confusion on his face. When I entered my throne room, it was empty save a few guards that came to attention as I walked toward my throne and took my place. Elranduil took his place beside Nimlos and their sons Ardôr and Aruilos. Soon, two guards brought before me a ragged, filthy and pathetic creature I recognized to be a dwarf on site. He glanced at me with little acknowledgement.

“Do you know where you are,” I asked.

 “I know what in what kingdom I was found,” he said. “Mirkwood, is it not? Home of the Woodland Elves ruled by the Elven King. I do believe you are that king.”

“Yes, I am. And these are my halls. The Hall of Thranduil, though that name is not spoken beyond these borders. And what is it they call you?”

“I am Thorin Oakenshield,” he said finally standing straight. “Son of Thráin son of Thrór and the heir of Erebor.”

I stood up and walked toward him. I remembered my time with his ancestor centuries before. The resemblance was there though somewhat lackluster.

“Who brought him to me, Nimlos,” I asked.

“They whom stand before you,” he answered.

I looked back at Thorin. He seemed weary but indignant.

“Did they harm you,” I asked.

 “No,” he said. “But neither were they kind.”

 I gave them a look of rebuke and they bowed.

“Go,” I said. “And as for you, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, I have many questions for you and you will answer. Do you know what fate befell one called Stíahn, son of Thekker come to us from Ered Luin some time ago? I would assume it was not a good one. How you managed to come this far alive fascinates me. Many of your people have traversed through this kingdom and every one showed themselves to be of good intention—until now. You will answer my questions or my dungeons will be your fate. Thranduil Tárisil Oropherion aimênu, Thorin Oakenshield.”

He was defiant and repeated himself again and again. I had pity for him, but little patience. I had him taken away and immediately fed for I wished to speak to him later. Once he was gone, Legolas, Orísil and Tarthôn came to us.

“Where were you, Orísil,” Elranduil asked.

“Many pardons, Ada,” he said. “It was Êleneth. My daughter is rather headstrong and wandered out of the palace.”

“Well, that is what happens when your wife is the daughter of Aramoth,” he said. “Headstrong offspring.”

“She gets from my sister, Orísil,” Nimlos said. “Aramoth has nothing to do with it, shocking as it sounds.”

As we laughed Nînuir, Elmîr and Aradin approached us with several more dwarves.

“What is this,” I asked. “More of them?”

“Ada,” Legolas whispered softly. Like his mother, always trying to keep me calm.

 “Yes,” Elmîr said. “Anírar mann, pedar enni.”

“The silence is broken, Your Majesty,” Nînuir said. “The hunt, I am afraid must begin once more. Their presence has awaken the spiders once more.”

Though there stood one before me I would see again tried to reason with me, I heard none of it. I would once more send my sons and my people out into that wretched place to fight for our lives. As they were taken, I noticed two young ones among them. I paused for a moment in thought.

“What are you thinking, Thranduil,” Nimlos asked.

“I was just wondering about the younger of them. Two there are.”

“Yes, so there are.”

“I was just wondering if they were the sons of Stíahn,” I said. “If memory serves me, I believe he said he had two sons. Just a thought, no more.”

 I watched them until they disappeared from view thinking about them—never knowing they would one day suffer the fate of their father.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-30-16

Chapter XX: Prelude to War (Pt. I)

“I was preparing to go out on a hunt with my sons. When I had a moment, I stood looking out my windows. For the first time, I glanced around my chambers. The silence hurt my ears. I longed to hear the voices of the past—especially Êlúriel’s. The thought of her filled my eyes with tears. I left quickly to escape her memory. In the hall I met Orísil. 

“Your Majesty,” he said bowing. “I hope you are well this morning.” 

“As to be expect,” I answered. “I hear you are courting Arlúin. How are you getting on with Aramoth?” 

“Her father can be a bit much,” he answered smiling. “But he is quite admirable.” 

“I have known him since my childhood. He is far worse with his brother.” 

Orísil gave me a weakly smile, as I laughed to myself reminiscing about Aramoth and Aramír as boys. By the time we reached the stables, I saw Legolas speaking with Mîráre. 

“I will be with my father today,” he said quietly. “And my brother. You worry far too much, Mîráre.” 

“I do no worry too much,” she said. “You worry too little. You are a bit full of yourself at times.” 

“That is why you like me.” 

She smiled at him.  

“I never said I liked you, Legolas.” 

She walked away smiling to herself, leaving Legolas bewildered. 

“Legolas,” I asked. “Is something wrong?” 

“No, Ada, nothing at all.” 

“I do believe Mîráre likes you.” 

“She is merely a friend,” he said looking down. “That is all.” 

The stable hands began leading the horses out my council began to arrive. 

“Legolas is in love,” Ardôr teased as he mounted his horse. “She is all he talks about.” 

“Mîráre is all I hear about,” Aruilos said as he rode Gildúril past us with Tarthôn and Orísil riding close behind. 

As Nimlos, Aramír, Aramoth, Elmîr, Eldôr, Fëaluin and Elranduil approached, I noticed Legolas never looked up. 

“Legolas, do not listen to them,” I said. 

“I am not,” he said. “I do speak of her often. Do you honestly think she likes me?” 

“I know she does. Now, get ready for the hunt, son.” 

Legolas smiled and went into the stable. 

“He is so much like you, Thranduil,” Elranduil said. “Nothing changes in this household.” 

“I can see that,” Eldôr said, glaring at his son as the others were laughing. Just as I mounted my horse, Ëariâth rode out of the stable on a horse near the color of her silver eyes, her long dark hair flowing behind her. 

“Ëariâth,” Nimlos began. “We spoke of this yesterday. Did you not hear what I said?” 

“Yes, Ada,” she said. “I was just not listening.”  

She rode away, joining Tarthôn nearby. 

“Be ever grateful you have sons,” he said to me. “Ever so grateful.” I laughed as I took my place at the head of the party. 

When all were assembled, led by soldiers we headed to toward the eastern borders. Though thick thorny vines covered the forest, it was tranquil and unusually quiet. 

“It was not the quiet yesterday,” Legolas said curiously. “It was filled with orcs and spiders. I do not like this.” 

Suddenly I stopped. We waited in silence as we heard the snapping of twigs and the crushing of leaves. The guard stood ready I drew my sword. We heard voices coming toward us. 

“Those are not orcs,” Tarthôn said. 

As the voices and footsteps came closer, everyone prepared to attack. Soon emerged from the forest were troupe of dwarves—not seen since Thráin had one been seen. It had been years since the skies were filled with roar of dragons, and the wars surrounding our borders from as far South as Gondor to the as far East as Dale and Erebor. Though cursed by Sauron, the depths of our tangled dungeon gave some protection from many things if by fear of entering the unknown.  

Our guards surrounded them defensively as I rode forward. One had a familiar face to me—like a memory from the past. His hair and beard were long—the color of straw and his eyes deep blue. I dismounted and walked toward him. 

“What do they call you,” I asked sternly. 

“I am Stíahn, son of Thekker of Moria,” he said, startled more by my voice than my presence. “We come in search of one called Thráin, King of Moria in exile.” 

“You know where you are, Stíahn, son of Thekker,” I asked. “For I see you have not come alone.” 

“I know well where we are,” he answered. “This is the Rhovanion and within in it lies the kingdom of Mirkwood, ruled by the Elven King. Though I will say, you are far less frightening than what has been told as far as Ered Luin, Your Majesty.” 

I could not help but smile at him—wondering to myself what was said of me outside my borders about my appearance. 

“From Ered Luin,” I said. “You traverse quite a distance in search of your king. It has been many generations since I met a King from Khazâd-dûm. The last of the same name escaping from the mountain toward Erebor. I suppose this is his ancestor for whom you seek?” 

“Yes,” he said. “In his absence his son has taken his place as the new king.” 

“If I may ask, what is his name?” 

“Thorin Oakenshield,” he said. “I am his husband to his sister, Dís.” 

“Fëaluin, what do you know,” I asked. Fëaluin dismounted and came to stand beside me before the dwarves. He looked at them in amazement. 

“Thráin, son of Thrór,” he said. “Yes, Iarûr has made careful note of all that has happened since the coming of Sauron to Dol Guldur. He has spoken to Aiwendil of Rhosgobel. For as much as one can gather from him, it would appear that Thrór was disposed by Azog, a rather nasty but formidable orc. His son Thráin had three children if I am not mistaken. Did he not lose a son during the Battle of Nanduhirion?” 

“Yes, my Lord,” Stíahn said. “Frerin. I was there when he fell a most honorable death.” 

“If your king survived, then why would he not be with his people in Ered Luin,” I asked. “Seems rather unusual to come this way after such an ordeal.” 

“I am afraid I cannot answer that,” Stíahn said. “But I left my wife and two sons to find him.” “Perhaps he sought to return to Erebor,” I said. 

“That would not be wise,” Eldôr said. “Beneath the mountain lies the dragon, Smaug the Golden from which his people fled.” “True enough,” I said. “But the treasure amassed within the mountain is not so easy to part with even for a dragon.” 

“Your king has most certainly has fallen to the Dark Lord,” Nimlos said. “There is no doubt of that. I remember quite well the War of the Last Alliance and a fallen king that from him was taken something of particular value.” 

Stíahn’s face seem to turn white. He turned to his companions then back to me as it to calculate what to do next. 

“Where can we him,” he asked. 

“Sauron? You seek to end your life? For if Thráin’s paths crossed with his, he is no longer in this world.” 

“You do not know for certain his fate,” he answered. “He could still be alive and I intend to find him.” 

I looked at Fëaluin. He nodded. 

“Legolas,” I said. “Will you and Tarthôn lead the others home? Fëaluin, Nimlos, Elranduil, Eldôr. Stay with me.

“Yes, Father,” he said. 

As the group turned back home I could not help but wonder it there was more this dwarf than what he said. “You wish to find Sauron,” I asked. “I know where he dwells, for it is within the borders of my kingdom—not far from here.” “Show me the way, Your Majesty,” Stíahn said excitedly. “I am not afraid.” 

“Your bravery is commendable. You will need more of it should you come up against Sauron. I have centuries ago. I lost my father and my wife to his evil.” 

“Go your way southward—as to go toward what was once Khazâd-dûm and not long will you find what is called Dol Guldur,” Fëaluin said. “I will have two of our guards lead you to our borders and have our march warden direct you to your destination.” Fëaluin motioned to two of our guards and they bowed. 

“Thank you,” Stíahn said. “You have our gratitude, Your Majesty.” I nodded and watched them as they followed our guards closely. 

“We shall never see them again, Thranduil,” Elranduil said. “Why did you let them leave.” 

“I could see he would heed our warning. If one is determined to die for something, they will not be easily persuaded until the moment of death and perhaps not even then.” 

“They will not be the last to come this way,” Eldôr said. “While on my why here came to Rivendell where Lord Elrond welcomed me for a time. It was good to see him once more, yet he seemed concerned. There is more in Erebor than a sleeping dragon.” 

“Great wealth,” Nimlos asked. “The whole of Arda knows of it.” 

“No,” Fëaluin said softly. “Something far more important to them. It is the Arkenstone.” 

“I do not care about anything more than keeping this kingdom from another war,” I said. “I want my borders tightened.” 

We mounted our horses and began riding home. I knew this was the beginning of more evil to come.”--Excerpt from TKWR: BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-26-16

Chapter XIX: Mirkwood (Pt. VIII)

“After a night spent deep in thought, I left my study and walked down the hall toward my chambers. Directly in my path stood Legolas speaking with Elenadar, Elenatar and Tarthôn.

“I hope to be able to join you on a hunt,” I heard him say enthusiastically.

“If Ada allows you out of the front gate,” Tarthôn began, “I will take you up on your challenge.”

“What challenge is this, dare I ask?”

As soon as I spoke, the group quickly bowed.

“Legolas,” I asked? “What is your brother speaking about?"

“Tarthôn says he can kill more orcs than me, Father,” Legolas said smiling at me. “I disagree with him, of course.”

I gave him a sharp look. He had not even heard my decision and already he was full of anticipation for my answer to be permissive. I looked at both of them for a time—glaring intensely the two young men that once clung to me tightly as children.

“You realize, Legolas, that Tarthôn has more experience at fighting the real thing.”

I continued my way then stopped. I turned back and looked at my sons.  Legolas looked down as he were ready to cry.

“If I were you, I would spend today in practice and tonight in rest if you are to join him and the others on the hunt tomorrow.”

Legolas lifted his head—his face had the largest smile I had ever seen. Perfect, as his mother’s. He nearly ran to me.

“Thank you, Ada,” he said quietly. “I will not fail you.”

“I know. You never have.”

He bowed and returned to his friends as I continued down the hall, worried whether tomorrow I would still have an heir.

“You will, Thranduil,” I heard a familiar voice said. “I would not worry about him.”

“Eldôr,” I said surprised. “You startled me, Uncle.”

“Many apologies, Thranduil. Your mother and my wife have made it safely to Mithlond, but I thought it better to return. It was best for me not to go into the Undying Lands quite yet. Especially when I heard of the news of the unfortunate change of our identity from out of Lothlórien.”

“Yes, it was unfortunate,” I said angrily. “Whatever reasons for it, you will never see me turn my back against the wind even if it were to blow from our own kin. I have a kingdom to rule whether by Eryn Galen or Mirkwood it is called.”

“You are very much your father’s son,” he said. “Oropher would be very proud.”

We walked together toward the great hall as I would begin a new day. Somehow, I began to feel our people were going to rise from this darkness we had known anew.

The following morning, I anxiously watched Legolas leave the palace to protect the kingdom with many other elven warriors.

“I know your fear, Thranduil,” Fëaluin said. “I feel the same every time I watch my sons leave. It is a feeling that will never go away.”

“They are with Nimlos, Elmîr and Elranduil,” Eldôr said. “They will return.”

As he turned, a beautiful two beautiful young elven maidens appeared by our side. One I knew well was Nimlúin—daughter of Fínduin and Sinomë. She had had long brown hair and light brown eyes. The other was Mîráre, daughter of Tatháron. Her long golden hair and eyes of silver were hard to avoid—especially for Legolas. They both bowed to me gracefully.

“Has Aruilos left, Uncle,” Nimlúin asked Fëaluin. “Mîráre wished to see His Highness off.”

“I am afraid they left quite early,” I answered, looking at Mîráre. “Mîráre, daughter of Tatháron and Tárwen. You are turning into quite a beautiful young lady.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said smiling awkwardly. “His Majesty is too kind.”

“Or truthful. Legolas shall return and call upon his return. He would be foolish not to do so. Eldôr. Fëaluin. Shall we?”

We started toward my study slowly. Fëaluin tried desperately not to laugh.

“I have been gone for far too long,” Eldôr said.

“Yes, you have, Eldôr,” I said. “Yes you have.”

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

“It had only been a few hours since I had watched my son pass through the main gates of our palace and into the wild to battle the evil that roamed our kingdom. I paced the floor of my throne room waiting for word I had lost my son. When the gates burst open, I thought my worst fears had come true.

Elenadar and Elenatar entered carrying a wounded elven archer. As I was joined by Eldôr, Elranduil, Fëaluin, and Aramír, we hurried to see about the elf. As they lay the elf on the floor, Nimlos, Elranduil, Findôl and Elmîr entered and went to him. It was Randúmîr. Though I was grateful it was not Legolas, he was nowhere to be seen and I worried about the condition of my archer.

“Where is Aramoth,” Aramír yelled looking around. “I need him.”

“He comes shortly with Aldáros,” Fëaluin said. “They were at the northern borders with Sildôr. How is Randúmîr?"

“He should be fine,” Elenatar said. “The wound is shallow.” He pulled showed us a bleeding cut carved out of Randúmîr’s shoulder.

“Take him to Nimlúin, now,” Eldôr commanded as more elven archers poured into the inner sanctum. Some were bloodied, but mobile. When I seemed all had returned, there still was not a sign of Legolas.

“I am going out there to find my son,” I said grabbing my sword.

“Thranduil, stop,” Nimlos began, trying to stop me. “You do not want to go out there.”

“I will go anywhere in this world for my son, Nimlos.”

Just as I said that, the gates opened and there was my son with his cousins Ardôr, Aruilos, Tarthôn and Orísil.

“How many did I get, Tarthôn,” I heard Legolas asking. He had a bit of dirt on his shirt, but otherwise he appeared fine.

“Oh, one more than me,” Tarthôn said, sounding irritated. “Tell the world, Legolas.”

“I think twenty was a good number for your first day,” Aruilos said. “But you both have far to go to catch my thirty-four.”

“Or my forty-seven,” Orísil gloated. “Though Ardôr did rather well.”

“Still far less than twenty,” Ardôr said quietly. “Fifteen."

“What is this,” I asked.

They stopped and bowed reverently.

“Where have you been, Legolas? Tarthôn? You realize how worried I have been?”

“Ada, it was my doing,” Legolas said. “I wanted to fight later than required. Do not blame them.”

“Legolas, come with me.” I stormed into my study, my son lock-step behind me.

Inside, there were scribes working as they had for centuries. By the look on my face, they knew to leave quickly, closing the doors behind them.

“I was worried about you, Legolas,” I began. “My son out there in the wilds battling orcs and the like. And what do you do?”

“Quite well, I must say,” he said smiling. “I felled many of those horrible creatures. And many more I shall get tomorrow.”

“No, you will not, Legolas. You will stay in the palace with me and learn your place.”

“I do not wish to do that, Ada,” he said. “I will not do that.”

“You are too much like your mother,” I said.

I had not planned on those words to ever cross my lips.

“Why must you do this to me?”

He looked at me with wonderment. A smile slowly crossed his face and his eyes began to light up. For a moment, he looked exactly like his mother.

“I am like my mother,” he asked. “How am I like my mother, Ada? Please tell me.”

“You seemed to have inherited her sense of torturing me with worry. She would say and do many things that frightened me. Whether this was her intention, I do not know, but you, son, have every intention of doing so.”

“I do not,” he said laughing. “The only reason this has wrought fear in you is because you think I am going to die. That, I have no intention of doing.”

I sat down in my chair at my desk and looked at my son. Remembering when he would wander into my study and curl up on my lap to sleep. I felt my age for the first time. Legolas sat on the edge of my desk, still smiling.

“I may worry a bit much, Legolas,” I said. “But as your father and as the king, I have the right.”

“What was my mother’s name,” he asked without diverting his gaze from me. “I want to know.”

“Êlúriel,” I said. Her name still brought a wave of emotion to my heart so powerful, I could feel the pain of nearly two-thousand years envelop me.

“Her name was Êlúriel Nenluin from Ossiriand.”

“My mother was danwaith? That would explain many things. Was she beautiful?”

“Very,” I said hoping he would stop asking about her. “Her beauty was beyond extraordinary.”

“I know you loved her, Ada,” he said looking down. “I have known it my whole life. Whenever you held me as a child, I could feel the love of both of you. It is how I could find my way to sleep, then. I wish sometimes to dream again, for I could see you smile again. With mother, you always seemed to smile.”

I began to shiver within thinking Legolas may have some memory he never spoke but kept to himself. I wanted to know more, but I reluctantly said nothing.

“I loved her more than life itself,” I answered. “She meant more to me than even my throne. But the best part of her she left in my care. That is you, Legolas.”

“I am not the best part of her,” he said, rising. “I am the best part of both of you.”

I knew he was right, though I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing this. He began to leave. He paused for a moment.

“Ada,” he asked.

“Yes, Legolas,” I said.

“I will go out again tomorrow.”

“I hardly can keep you from having your way. Stubborn you are.”

“Yes, I am. But that, I inherited from you. Or perhaps both of you. I am rather fond of this trait, Ada. I think I will keep it.”

“I am going with you,” I said. “If I may?”

Legolas smiled gleefully.

“I would like that, Ada,” he said. “I hope you can keep up with us.”

“I have been killing these creatures long before you were born. I would not worry about me.”

He left quickly, nearly running into Fëaluin. He walked over to me with a serene look on his face.

“Is there something amiss, Fëaluin,” I asked. “What of Randúmîr?

“He is fine. We lost no one. But Tarthôn wishes an audience.”

“Very well.”

“Tarthôn,” he said. “You may enter.”

Into the room came Tarthôn, his golden red hair somewhat a mess from the hunt. He bowed as I stood.

“You may leave, Fëaluin,” I said. He took his leave quickly. When the doors were shut, I stood before the man I raised as my own son. “What bothers you, Tarthôn?”

“I am not your son, am I,” he asked.

“You have been my son since your birth. Why do you ask?"

“I look nothing like you. I look nothing like Legolas. Who am I?”

“Where is this coming from, Tarthôn,” I asked.

“I am different, Ada. I know this. But you worry more for Legolas than me."

“I know your skills are greater,” I said. “But do not doubt my love for you. I worry for you every time you leave this palace.”

“Who am I,” he asked again.

"You are Tarthôn, son of Melros, son Eldûmír. Both died in the War of the Last Alliance. Your mother, Arandil and your grandmother Aralómë left you in my care for the Undying Lands. Your father was like a brother to me since childhood. I promised to care for you as my own if he were to die and that he did. Honorably. You are his son but you are also my son.”

“I apologize for endangering your son,” he said. “I would never do anything to harm him.”

“Do you wish to leave your family? Legolas knows no other but you as his brother. Have I said something wrong?”

“No,” Tarthôn said. “You have loved me well and there is no better brother I could ask for than Legolas. I just wanted to know. I see one that looks like me in memories that should not be and he is always in the armor of a warrior.”

“That is Melros. I was there when he fell,” I said sadly.

I did not want to look at his son.

“He always says to me that I am where I should be,” he said. “He says he is very proud.”

“As he should. You have grown very well. You are a good son.”

“He is proud of you,” Tarthôn said as he approached me. “I know you love me, Ada. I lost one in battle before my birth and gained another when I was born. I wish my father had lived, but it was not a choice I was given. But kept your promise to raise me as your son and I am glad you are my father.”

He embraced me and I returned it to him. I felt tears come to me. Memory seemed to bring Melros back to me. I had held so much guilt for his death, I found it hard to hold his son. Much like Legolas whom I kept at arms length for the guilt of losing his mother, I had not noticed I was pushing them away over agonizing pain.

When he released me he smiled coyly.

“You know I have shown interest in Ëariâth, Ada. I ask for your blessing, if I may.”

“That, I give willingly for the affairs of the heart are what they are,” I said. “However, have you spoken to Nimlos of your intention?”

“Not entirely,” he said. “I was hoping you would give him reason.”

“You know, Tarthôn,” I began. “I remember many mornings when my solitude was disturbed by two little elves. Asking me to do something. I thought that would end by now.”

“It has,” he said. “For it is night.”

“Fine, Tarthôn,” I will speak with Nimlos. But should he give his blessing, you will be given the royal tradition upon the announcement.”

“Is that frightening,” he asked, his eyes growing larger. I remembered my own experience and smiled at him.

“Oh, yes. Yes, it is, son. You may go. I believe the others await your company.”

He bowed and ran out of my study. I went to my balcony and watched the falls and noticed the moon shining down for the first time in a long time, turning the waters into a glowing fall of diamonds falling into the meandering stream below. The day had ended calmer than it had begun. I found myself happier than I had been for centuries.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-24-16

Chapter XIX: Mirkwood (Pt. VII)

“It was the first time the dwarves came into Mirkwood. I had not seen or heard from them since the Second Age during the War of the Last Alliance. I had called for Tarthôn and Legolas to come with me to the stables. They had started change—growing taller and stronger with each passing year.

“Why are we going to the stables,” Tarthôn asked.

“I have something for you both,” I said.

When we arrived, Elranduil waited with Ardôr and Orísil. Nimlos stood with Aruilos—no longer a child with nearly colorless grey and long hair of white gold.

“Thranduil,” Elranduil said smiling. “Shall we?”

I nodded. Nimlos motioned into the stables and five stable hands came out with five horses. Two were brought to me—one light silver-mist colored stallion with long black mane and tail and one brown stallion with long red mane and tail.

“For you,” I said. “A gift for each of you.”

“I know which one is mine,” Legolas said walking over to the silver stallion. “Lasiavas.”

“Ada, you chose a fine horse for me,” Tarthôn said. “His mane is the color of mine.”

Everyone laughed as he inspected his horse.

“His name is Culdúros,” I answered.

“He is handsome, Tarthôn,” Orísil said. “You ride far better than you aim.”

Ardôr received a stallion the color of red earth with a white mane and tail named Síldúlos, while Orísil’s stallion was Nimísil, a white golden stallion with white mane and tail. Nimlos had given Aruilos Gildúril, a proud white stallion with mane and tail the color of fire.

“Gildúril is beautiful,” Aruilos said. “Thank you, Ada”

“You are welcome, son,” Nimlos said.

Suddenly, Randúmîr appeared before us—behind him were several guards leading several dwarves. He bowed as he approached. Far from the young orphan that came with Nimlos the day I met Êlúriel. His long hair the color of sand had grown long and he stood to my height.

“These were caught entering into our borders in to the south, Your Majesty,” Randúmîr said angrily. I noticed the Dwarves were being treated rather roughly.

“Release them,” I said calmly. “It is fine. What business do you have in these woods, may I ask?”

The leader of the group stepped forward. He had long dark brown hair and beard and brought back memories of the Dwarves from the War—wondering to myself had any I had known survived after so much time. The band had women and children—most unusual sight to see.

“I am Thráin, son of Náin,” he said. “Was the son of Náin. He is dead now and I am King Under the Mountain. Well, I was until evil awoke in our caverns and took from us our ancient home.”

I thought about our own situation—the horror of Sauron usurping our peace to spread darkness and had pity for them.

“Nimlos, Elranduil. Take them where they wish to go as far as the northern borders,” I said. “Aldáros will guide them the way they wish to go. Have Fëaluin give them what they may need for their journey. I bid you safe passage, King Thráin of Khazâd-dûm.”

“Thank you, King Thranduil,” he said in reverence.

“You know my name?”

“Of course,” Thráin answered. “My ancestors spoke of Eryn Galen and their bravery in the War of the Last Alliance. Durin rode into battle with your father, King Oropher where they both fell but in honor they are remembered.”

“Thank you.”

Nimlos and Elranduil left me with our sons as they led the dwarves away.

“Do you require anything else from me, Your Majesty,” Randúmîr asked.

“No,” I said, still in awe of Thráin’s words. “Remain vigilant.”

He bowed and left with his guard.

“Ada, that is what a dwarf looks like,” Legolas asked.

“No,” I said. “That is what a king looks like.”

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

Autumn arrived as quickly as summer come and all within the borders of the forest felt something was stirring. The passage of exiles from Khazâd-dûm seemed to come to an end as glamhoth hordes and giant spiders became as numerous as the trees.

I sent out the best of my warriors to defend our people—often in fear they would never return. In time, the numbers of our warriors grew and far less were lost as the became master defenders.

Our kingdom was nearly impenetrable—and time beyond our borders seemed lost to us. All we knew all that surrounded us. When the time came, I reluctantly allowed Tarthôn to join many to fend off the orcs and spiders. Along with Ardôr, Orísil and Aruilos, he became one of the best. As much as Legolas wished to join them, I refused for the loss of his mother continued to haunt me.

I was hit with a realization one afternoon when Elenadar and Elenatar with Tarthôn, Ardôr, Orísil, Aruilos and Legolas. My son was coming of age. Tarthôn had begun to look so much like Melros, the sight of him often startled me.

As they group approached me without nearly a glance, one of the guards tapped the floor with their spear. They stopped and bowed.

“Your Majesty,” came a chorus of voices. Legolas’ was among them. When they had risen, Legolas smiled.

“Good morning, Ada.”

“Good morning, son,” I answered. Legolas has his mother's eyes in shape but a striking icy blue grey. His hair was nearly as long as mine, yet he seemed to have inherited its rich golden color from Oropher.  His sounded much like his mother voice at times, and it often hurt to hear it as it was a gentle and delicate though growing deeper as he grew.  His face remained as delicate as it was in his youth and even as it was reaching adulthood, it held the softer features of his mother. As the group walked away, I felt I had not noticed time as it crept upon me.

The next day, I stood with Fëaluin speaking quietly high above the cavern gardens. I heard the sound of an arrow pass my ear so closely, I felt I may have lost it.

“I apologize for that, Ada,” Legolas yelled to me from below. He smiled and leapt up a tall tree, swung himself around to the railing and jumped to his feet. He smiled at me as he reached for the arrow that had lodged into the wall.

“Legolas,” I began. “You could be more careful. You are much improved, but your aim leaves much to be desired.”

“Yes, Ada,” he said still smiling, his eyes glowing brightly. “But I did not miss my mark. I wanted your attention.”

“You have it, son. What do you wish to ask me?”

“Not a thing,” he said. “I wanted you to see how much improved I am.” He jumped upon the railing again and slid down a long branch of the tree and landed on the knoll below.

“My son will not give up,” I said. “And I will not relent."

“He is ready, Thranduil,” Fëaluin said. “He has been for some time.”

“No,” I said calmly. “I will not allow my son to leave the palace to fight orcs and spiders. I will hear no more of it.”

“Yes, you will, but not from me,” he said. “He wants to fight and he will not have that taken from him.”

“I lost his mother to those creatures and I will not lose him. He is all I have of her in this world and I will not let that go.”

“Thranduil, have you seen your son,” he asked. “He is no longer a child. I know how you feel but you must let go. He is knows little of his past, far less of this world and you cannot keep him from these things any longer.”

“Fëaluin, he is my son and I will raise him as I see fit,” I growled angrily. “What of this world does he need to know? It is a desolate place where nothing does not lie beneath the shadows of Sauron’s evil. I will not lose him to that. I lost a father. I lost Melros. I lost my wife. I will not lose Legolas.”

I stormed away angrily toward my study. Once inside I stood by the open balcony to the rushing waters of the falls that cascaded into a deeper meandering river below. I could not keep the memory of the loss of Êlúriel away. It was so long ago but felt as it happened just that morning. A knock came to my door.

“Yes, enter.”

“Ada, it is me,” Legolas said. “I wish to speak with you.”

“Not now, Legolas,” I said. “I have things that must be done.”

“You say that every time I want to speak with you,” he said. “You will speak now.”

I turned swiftly to see him standing before me. His hair was long with all the color of his ancestors. His eyes were striking grey with a strong hint of blue. He had grown to his full height, lean in stature but strong with a gentle face like his mother’s but at the moment it had a stern look reminiscent of Oropher. I began to walk toward him but we met one another before I could go no further.

“You dare speak to your father and your king in this manner,” I demanded.

“Yes, I do. You were my father before you were my king. Why can I not fight for my kingdom? It is as much mine as it is yours.”

“Because my word is the law of this realm, Legolas. That is all that you need to understand.”

“I am ready, and you have known this for a long time,” he yelled. “I will not die for I will not let them take me without a fight should they survive.”

“You are so sure of your skills,” I began. “But have you seen what you would be up against? These creatures are the embodiment of cruelty. Of evil. They spare nothing and no one. I will not lose my only son and heir to this kingdom!”

“This is not about you, father,” he said staring me straight in the eye. “This is about my mother.”

“How dare you,” I yelled at him. “You know nothing of why I do what I do.”

“Where is she, Ada,” he asked. “Where is my mother?”

“You do not need to know that.”

“She is dead, is she not,” he asked. “Did she not die by the blade of an orc?”

“Who told you such things, Legolas,” I demanded. I thought it may have been one of my council.

“I have seen them since childhood, Ada. In my dreams. As I grew they became memories. I know you think someone betray you and spoke of this to me, but no one would dare such a thing in fear of your wrath.”

“I do not wish to speak of it,” I said, far calmer. “Do not ask me to speak of it.”

“I will not, Ada,” he said softly. “But I want to fight these things that took her from me. From you. Please.”

I turned away and walked toward the balcony. In the waters, I found some serenity. Legolas was so much like Êlúriel—he was going to have his way.

“Give me until morning,” I said. “I will give you my decision then.”

I turned back to him and his face had a slight smile. He walked over to me.

“You will not lose me, Ada. I will not let them take me away from you. Not now nor ever.”

He embraced me and I returned it to him. I could feel his spirit and it was strong. I did not want to let him go, but I knew in the moment he was ready. When he left my arms he bowed and left quickly. I had raised more than a prince. I had raised a warrior.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-22-16

Chapter XIX: Mirkwood (Pt. VI)

“Years went by like days and my sons were beginning to grow up. They had begun to sleep in their own chambers and spent much of their time with his Ardôr, Orísil, Aruilos, Elenadar and Elenatar.

One day, I was looking over some scrolls in my study. I had become accustomed to Legolas coming to me regularly to ask me something, but this day was different.

“Ada,” he said and he walked in.

“Yes, Legolas,” I asked. “What is it?”

“I was wondering why we are not as the other elves,” he said woefully.

“How do you mean,” I asked. I was looking over some scrolls and had barely looked up.

“Where is our mother,” he asked. “Why do Tarthôn and me not have one?”

I looked at him as I heard my heart start to break. It had been so many years since I lost Êlúriel. I wanted to forget losing her; yet she was staring at me through our son. She cared equally for both of them since their infancy and kept them close which is one reason Legolas and Tarthôn held onto me so tightly when she was lost to me. They were quite young when she died and as they grew older, their memory of her had began to fade.

“May I ask what this is about?” I did not want to think about that day or any day before it.

“I just wanted to know,” he said hanging his head.

That hurt me, but telling him would have hurt me more. I had to say something because whenever he was sad, I felt guilt and shame.

“You had a mother, and she is gone now. And she would not want her sons feeling any different from any other elf because of her absence.”

He looked up and gave me slight smile. He had my eyes and her compassion within them. It was hard to watch him grow; the pain almost too much too bear. But I found no greater joy than watching Legolas become what his mother would have wanted.

“What was she like, Ada,” he asked.

“She was beautiful and she was just like you, but she also was very quiet when I had things to do.”

I hoped that was enough to fulfill this obligatory conversation. He hung his head again but then looked up again. This time his face looked filled with anger.

“One day, Ada, you will have to tell me more,” he said. “I know you will.”

In that moment, he was his mother and my face must have given him much satisfaction because he smiled. As quickly as he appeared he ran out of the room and almost into Fëaluin as he entered.

“And what was Legolas doing in here,” Fëaluin asked.

“You know full well what he was doing in here, Fëaluin.” He glared at me.

“When are you going to tell your son about his mother? He is going to continue to ask until you tell him.” I continued to read and smiled at him.

“I have all the time in the world,” I said.

“Yes, you do, Thranduil,” he began. “So does Legolas.” He smiled at me, bowed and left. I sighed, put my work down and went to find my son.

As I made my way down the hall, I thought of how I would tell Legolas about his mother. How do I describe such beauty to a child in a manner he could understand? I passed the main gate and a sanctuary that was a garden beneath the ground. Our existence relegated to caverns, elven skills made it possible to make things as close to what they were before the shadows came. It was smaller than the gardens in which I had grown, but they were no less beautiful.

I saw Legolas shooting his bow. For his tender age, he was remarkably skilled. With him were Elenadar and Elenatar. They had grown into their adulthood nicely. Much like Fëaluin, they had grown to my height, both had the richest and darkest brown hair with the silver eyes of their mother.

Nearby stood Tarthôn. He reminded me so much of Melros. Eyes as green as spring leaves with long hair of gold with a touch of the red of autumn leaves. Watching them took me away to happier days. I longed for the days I took for granted when I thought nothing could happen—when I thought immortality was impenetrable and evil was myth.

Elenadar saw me and whispered to Legolas. He looked up at me and smiled and ran up to where I stood. Tarthôn took his place for practice. Being raised closely with Legolas, his skills were just as impressive to me.

“Yes, Ada,” I heard Legolas chirped. He was next to me now, standing to my forearm. He looked at me and I began to remember the day he was born and watching him with his mother. I was struck with fear of speaking of her. I could barely bring myself to say her name or think of it.

“I suppose I should tell you some things about your mother,” I began.

I could feel my voice fall softer and softer. Legolas gave me a look of concern. He knew I was in pain for he had his mother’s instincts.

“Ada, I must apologize to you,” he said. “I know it pains you to remember. I do not know what happened to my mother, but it makes you sad. I do not like to see you sad, Ada. So, you do not have to speak of it now.”

I thought that would have calmed me and loosen me from my fatherly duty, but it made me feel weak and afraid. If Oropher were there, he would have been ashamed of me. I was ashamed of myself. Yet, the pain of losing Êlúriel was stronger than I could be.

“I can say one thing to you about your mother, Legolas,” I said. “You have her strength and from what I have seen, her skill with a bow.”

Legolas smiled and laughed.

“That is what Fëaluin says,” he began. “I am getting faster as well, Ada. I wish you would come watch more.”

I smiled.

“I think I will, Legolas.”

He leaned on me and we watched the other elves together for awhile. I felt like Thranduil again. I began to feel like a king once more.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-21-16

Chapter XIX: Mirkwood (Pt. V)

“You never get over losing your heart. It never gets easier. The pain just flows like the widest river and over a fall. For men, that pain is abated by death. For elves it goes on until the end of time.

By choosing not to waste away from grief, I was allowed one joy—watching my sons grow up—especially Legolas. The time after the loss of their mother was the hardest. Yet, whenever I found myself falling into sadness, Legolas seemed to arrive bearing comfort and his mother’s unusual sense of logic.

One day I found myself in council with Fëaluin and Aramír. We were under the shadow of Sauron as our kingdom itself was a slowly turning into symbolic corpse—rotting beneath hordes of the glamhoth and enormous spiders eating away at any living thing within our borders.

“There nothing we can do,” Fëaluin began, frowning as he looked down at a map of the Rhovanion. “Save perhaps keeping the perimeter safe within five miles of the gates.”

“We have few fighters now,” Aramír said. He placed several marks on the map. “Aramoth. Nimlos. Sildôr. Findôl. Me. Less than a quarter behind each of us to cover even that much. It will be a challenge.”

“And what have we heard from Rivendell,” I asked. “Lothlórien?”

Fëaluin gave me a concerned look. He just looked down at the map quietly.

“Not a word,” he said. “Though I believe we will hear from them in due course. These things take time, Thranduil.”

“There has been plenty of time, Fëaluin. For it is known that Elrond has two sons if I am not mistaken. I do not fault any of my kin seeing to the welfare of the people within their borders, but we fought together at Dagorlad. And it was my father leading that charge with his life he paid as did a great many others. To that I do expect something. Anything.”

As we stood together thinking, the table began to move. It seemed edge away from us slowly. Perplexed we cautiously followed it, thinking perhaps a creature from the outside had crossed our threshold. Nimlos appeared from the other side, scaring us. In his arms he held Legolas.

“Thranduil, I believe this belongs to you,” he said handing me Legolas who was holding onto something small and fur covered.

“Thank you, Nimlos,” I said. “I am not going to ask where you have been. Excuse me.”

I took Legolas away from the table. He barely noticed he had changed arms for he was concentrating.

“What are you holding, Legolas,” I asked. He looked up and shoved a baby squirrel in my face. “Where did you come upon this creature?”

“Outside,” he said. He looked at me without blinking an eye. For me, however, I began shake. I put him down and kneeled down to his level.

“Legolas, how did you get outside,” I asked angrily. “You are never to leave these walls. It is dangerous out there.”

“I went out the door,” he said pointing the squirrel in the direction of the main gates.

“Who let you out?”

“I let me out,” he said sternly. “I found this.”

“You are never to go outside again,” I said forcefully. He gave me an even sharper look. “Do you understand me?”

“Why not?”

“Because it is dangerous, Legolas,” I said almost pleading. I could see his mother dying all over again. “I am your father and you must listen to me.”

“If it is that way out there,” he said began. “Then that means that he is in trouble like me, so he has to stay here and listen to you like me.”

I could hear Fëaluin and the others laughing. I tried hard not to laugh.

“Legolas,” I began in a futile attempt to grasp his logic. “What are you telling me?”

“If nothing can be out there, they have to be in here,” he said. “How can I play with them out there in here, Ada?”

“Legolas, how many of them have you brought in here?”

“Some,” he said definitively. “They are in there.” He pointed the squirrel toward in inner gardens.

“You do not want to know, Thranduil,” Aramír said. “Believe me. You do not want to know.”

“By some, Legolas, what do you mean?” I knew that I was not going to like the answer.

“A lot of these.”

I stood up. I could hear the others laughing.

“Legolas, go take that into the gardens, please.”

He walked off quickly with what I learned would be part of a small collection of woodland creatures he had been accumulating for some time. I turned to the others.

“I do believe my son just talked me into a menagerie.”

“What shall I do with larger animals, Thranduil,” Fëaluin asked, almost in tears from laughter.

I stood there think about my own childhood antics—realizing that Legolas was turning into his father, for I myself had done the same thing more than a few times when I was his age.

“Nothing,” I sighed. “Better they are in here than out there. Make sure no more get in and my sons do not get out."--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-19-16

Chapter XIX: Mirkwood (Pt. IV)

“I was now the Elven King of Mirkwood. The glorious past I once knew was gone forever. I had its memory stripped from Arda for all time. I knew I had to be strong for my people and my sons who would come of age ostracized from their own kin for the evil of Sauron. For them, my heart was broken.

“How can I do this,” I asked Fëaluin as we were on the balcony of my study over looking cavernous waterfalls through slits of light. “I cannot do this.”

“You can do this, Thranduil,” he answered. “You have to for you have no other choice.”

“I know,” I said leaning against a post. I was thinking about my childhood for a moment—a time where my worries were few. Then, as I grew, so did my troubles. Then there was her—Êlúriel. Now she was gone. Now trouble seemed to be the only thing I could find.

“Thranduil, why do you worry so? It will not change things as they are.” Fëaluin walked over to me. “I know you. I have known you as long as I can remember.”

“I remember many things, Fëaluin,” I said. “Time stole everything from me. If I knew not of greater evils, I would think time were one of them. I remember far too much and forget far too little.”

“You are not supposed to forget. You should not. Remember a wrong. Remember a right. Remember good. Remember evil. All those things are there to remember so you know better how to deal with them again for there is never a time when such things will not exist in this world.”

I looked at Fëaluin. Centuries old with youth on his face yet eyes weary from all that time had given. As I began to reflect, Tarthôn ran in and hid behind me.

“What are you doing, Tarthôn,” I asked. He was still young but no longer the infant his mother left behind.

“Nothing, Ada,” he whispered.

Then I saw a familiar head of golden hair pass by my station—growing up, Legolas was still barely tall enough to see over the edge of my chair. When he saw Tarthôn, he ran over and they began running around me in circles.

“Legolas,” I said, finally grabbing him and picking him up. “Why are you chasing Tarthôn around my study?”

He gave me a look that reminded me of his mother’s face.

“Because, Ada, he ran in here while I was chasing him”. Fëaluin started to laugh.

“Well, that would make a lot of sense,” he said. “I need to find Linurial. Will you help me, Tarthôn?”

“Yes,” he answered.

He took his hand and they left me alone with Legolas.

“Why were you chasing Tarthôn,” I asked. “Were you playing a game?”

“No,” he said firmly. “We were looking for Nana. She must be here somewhere, he told me. We looked everywhere. Then we decided to look in here. Ada, is Nana in here?”

He was still so young, I realized. Tarthôn was not much older.  I thought of the father he never knew and the mother that awaited him in the Undying Lands. The thought of stolen time returned to me.

“No, Legolas, Nana is not in here. She is not anywhere you can see. So you may stop looking for you will never find her.”

He gave me a frown—looking at me as if I knew nothing of what I was saying.

“Is that true, Ada,” he asked. “How can she not be anywhere? She has to be somewhere.”

He put his arms around my neck.

“I want to see her. Where is she, Ada?”

He yawned and began to fall asleep. I looked out upon the waterfalls in all their thunderous beauty.

“She is in my heart,” I said to myself. “Always in my heart.”

As Legolas drifted into sleep I decided to put him in his room so I could finish the day. In the hall I was met by Elranduil and Orísil—now standing far taller than before. He was growing into a fine young man, though he was still a youth.

“I was on my way to take Legolas to his room,” I said.

“I will take him,” Orísil said. “If you wish.”

“Thank you, Orísil,” I answered handing my son to him. He never woke as he was taken away from me and Elranduil.

“He is growing into a fine young man,” I said. “It is surprising he is your son.”

“I know,” Elranduil said. “Ardôr is far more like me. Orísil seems more like Ardúin. Of course, they are both Noldor. May I have a word with you?”

“Of course.”

We went into my study.

“I know what had become of our Kingdom, Thranduil,” he began. “There are many who wish to flee because of it, but I will stay as will many others.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “I am glad.”

“I cannot leave my home without fighting for it. Nimlos will stay as well, I know. Iarûr has sent away his wife Nimríel with his son’s wife Náriel, but Súriar will remain with their daughter Celebríl and her husband, Isílsar and their son, Arawë. Under their tutelage, Iarûr wishes to have one called Lindúir to one day to take his son’s place as his son will take his.”

“Who is this Lindúir,” I asked.

“One of many left without a home during the war,” he said. “He was cared for by Iarûr and Nimríel. He has come of age, and has wed a beautiful maiden named Lasaúrë. They have a daughter named Areneth.”

“Very well. I would imagine the halls of this palace will soon be as empty as the forest that surrounds it. What will become of us, Elranduil?”

“I am sure we shall remain after the shadow has passed,” he said. “Many leave but more have decided to stay with their king.”

“A nameless king of a forest of great fear. That is what they wish to follow? It is folly.”

“Your people know you as King Thranduil,” he said. “What care do you have what the rest of Arda calls you? You were born Thranduil and so shall you remain.”

I would remain Thranduil. But the one I wished to be had lost half his heart with the death of his wife.

“If there is nothing more,” I said quietly. “I wish to be alone now.”

“Of course,” he said. “Do not stay away too long.”

When I heard the door close I sat at my table and closed my eyes. I longed for my father. I wanted my mother. I needed Êlúriel. I opened my eyes and decided to a scroll in front of me.

Lanterns cast strange shadows upon the wall of my study one evening as I began reading ancient words written by Iarûr, it told of another time lost forever.

‘Time begins as it will end—in a moment. There were many moments that have come and gone since we were waken in the east and found ourselves lost in the west. There are many forests in Arda, and many mountains rise above them beneath an endless night.’

While I continued reading, Fëaluin entered. In his had he held a small scroll.

“Good evening, Fëaluin,” I said, reading. “Is my son in his chambers?”

“Yes, Thranduil,” he answered nervously.

“Is there something you wish to speak about, Fëaluin,” I asked looking up at him. His eyes seemed filled with tears. “What is the matter? Is something wrong with Legolas?”

“No,” he began. “Legolas is just fine. He is with Tarthôn. I fear that Aldáros and Randúmîr wore them out a bit. Their skills grow stronger.” I had always known when Fëaluin was trying to avoid telling me something. He would start another discussion that often would make me forget whatever it was he wanted to say. But tonight it was far different.

“Fëaluin, you did not come here to discuss how well the Prince of Mirkwood can shoot an arrow. What is that in your hand? Is it for me?”

“Yes, Thranduil. But I must say something before I will give it to you.”

“If you must,” I said and rolled up my father’s scroll. “Tell me.”

“You will remember that night you had a memory of Êlúriel, yes,” he asked. I sighed. I did not want to remember any part of her. Every thought of her took a piece of my soul and devoured it like a wild beast.

“Yes. I do not wish to think of it again.”

“You will have to, for you do not have a choice. Before your mother left for Aman, she gave to me this letter. It is in the hand of Êlúriel. It was given to me the day Queen Nimeithel departed and she told me that I was not to allow you to ever see it because she knew what you would do. Hacking to pieces the throne where your mother and your wife sat was not one of your more majestic moments, Thranduil.”

“I know, Fëaluin. But I see that what I have asked has been done so should that note which my beloved wrote remind me of what I have lost, I will ask you to keep it from me and not speak of it again.”

Angrily, he walked over to me. I rose from my chair and we were face to face glaring at each other.

“You will read it, Thranduil,” he said, his eye flickering. “One day, you will tell Legolas of his mother. Within this letter, you will learn just how noble a queen Êlúriel was to this kingdom and how much she loved you.” He held up the letter, waiting for me to grab hold. I looked at him and slowly took the letter from him. Calmly, he bowed and turned to leave.

“Fëaluin,” I began. I was ashamed. “I did not..what I mean to say is that, I…” At the door, he turned back to me, his face as it was the night after I lost my father.

“I know, Thranduil. I have been there through it all, if you remember. I had never seen two more in love than you and Êlúriel in all the kingdom, if not all of Arda. I cannot imagine how you must feel and pray I should not have such pain come upon me. But I will say this, my friend. To have had such love is to be truly blessed. To have been allowed but for even a brief moment to know such a love, is a gift. You do not know how many in this world seek what you had and never find.” With that he bowed and left, leaving one of the doors opened.

I sat down again and slowly unrolled the scroll. It was in Êlúriel’s hand. My heart felt as shattering glass as I read her last words to me.

‘I saw that creature that killed my mother, for she knew not that I had come from within the small cavern at the moment I saw it tear away at her. It looked toward me and I fell into the hole further.  When all was silent, I heard it breathing and it tried to reach for me, but I made not a sound. It gave up and upon the fall of night, I came above upon hearing the cries of my father.

I never heard anything more sorrowful in all my life and swore I never would hear it again. It was Nimlos who taught me to use a bow. I wanted to destroy the thing that had taken my mother from me. But it was not to be, for I fell in love with Thranduil and all that was lost was returned to me.

The night after Legolas was born, I had a vision and I saw the face of the orc coming, but it was for Thranduil. I would not allow my love to suffer the fate of my mother. I knew it was coming and if it were to see me, I would take the place of my husband. I would die if I must, but I would not lose him. I love Thranduil more than all there is or could be in this world and I will not lose him.’

I could not breathe. I had not a thought in my head that could be expressed into words. I felt tears running down my face, yet no sound of crying came to me. I killed the creature that killed her and her mother. But I could not save her. But she had saved me.

“Êlúriel,” I whispered. “My beautiful, Êlúriel.”  I wish I had never said her name for had I known my son Legolas was standing outside the door, I would have kept her name to myself.

“Ada,” I heard Legolas say. I straightened myself and found my composure, wiping my face with my sleeve.

“Yes, Legolas,” I asked sternly. “Why are you out of your room so late? Is there something you need?”

“Yes,” he said looking directly at me. His eyes were older than his face. In his youth, he seemed to know more than the wisest of elves. “I want to be with you.”

He walked over to me and climbed on my lap, leaning his head on my chest. He was growing, but he was still a child. I wished he could have stayed this way because every moment I held him, I remembered the day he was born. Êlúriel was alive. My family was whole.

“Ada,” he began. “Why are you so sad? Do you miss Nana?”

“Yes, I do,” I said. I knew to say otherwise would be a lie with which I could not live. “I miss her very much. You should not worry for me. I will be fine.”

“Did you love Nana,” he asked.

“I loved her very much, yes.”

“Why?”

I could not help but smile. He knew his father well—as much as his mother.

“There are many reasons, Legolas. But there is only one I could think of that I love as much as I loved her.”

“What is that, Ada?”

“You. She gave me you. Which means, she remains with us both. Forever.” He sat up and looked at me then smiled.

“Then you should not be sad because I do not think she would want you to be,” he said astutely and settled back down and lay his head against my chest. Such wisdom from a child.

“You are right, Legolas. She would not want to be sad.” I kissed him on his head and realized he had begun to fall asleep.

“I love you, Ada,” he said drifting off.

“I love you, Legolas.” When I felt he was sleeping, I carried him out of my study and to his room. The guards opened his doors and I placed him in his bed. Tarthôn was already sleeping soundly. I could not help but wonder what his mother would think to see how her sons growing up so beautifully. I hope that I was doing what she would have wanted for them.

I left his room and walked to mine. Once inside, I lay down in our bed alone for the first time and cried for the rest of that night.”--Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-17-16