Chapter 32 ~ A Watchful Peace

Beyond all hope, it seemed Mithrandir had indeed crippled the power of Dol Guldur.  The people of Mirkwood passed the first year of the peace cautiously, hardly daring to believe it would not all come to ruin in the end.  The King maintained the severe watch on his borders and searched endlessly for any sign of the Necromancer’s return, but the seasons passed without incident.  One quiet year became two, two became six, six became a dozen, and slowly they were finally able to believe the tide had truly turned.

The shadow gradually weakened, fading southwards, leaving the wood to flourish as it once had.  Thranduil was keen to reclaim the forfeited territory, and within a decade they had successfully retaken the mountains.  The spiders and other foul beasts retreated with the shadow or were slain.

Thranduil felt his own strength returning day by day.  He realized he had forgotten what it was like to wake refreshed, to be invigorated rather than exhausted by the progress of the day.  It made the arduous work of cleansing the southern regions a much less daunting prospect.

The kingdom began thriving again in more ways than one.  The population steadily increased after a long and weary stagnation, and new settlements were built in the reclaimed territories to accommodate growing families.  Children seemed to be everywhere, a fresh generation of bright and eager faces.  A blissful century passed as all the wrongs of the world seemed to be righting themselves.

Lord Elrond came from Imladris with his noble family to visit King Thranduil and witness the glad change for himself.  They passed a very enjoyable year in Greenwood, as they had begun calling it again, reacquainting themselves at a leisurely and carefree pace which circumstances had not often allowed before.  Mutual paternal whimsy inspired Thranduil and Elrond to throw Legolas and Lady Arwen together at every opportunity in the hope that their acquaintance might blossom into something more substantial.  But, alas, it all came to nothing as they could not be persuaded to be more than good friends.

Another century passed during which the years were hardly marked.  The shadow of Mirkwood continued to lift, and very little noteworthy news came from beyond their borders to trouble them.  They did hear that the Dwarvish king had abandoned Erebor to rejoin the larger portion of Durin’s Folk in Ered Mithrin despite the rumor of dragons.

After yet another quiet century, Thranduil found himself strangely listless.  He was wonderfully content, but idle.  There was no war left to fight, no lurking enemy to oppose.  It seemed they had truly outlasted Dol Guldur, and that was an enormously satisfying thought even though it had not been any effort of his which had finally secured the wood.  His happiness was marred only by the underlying awareness that even now he was living only half a life, deprived of his Queen.  He contemplated that deprivation as he and Galadhmir sheltered with their horses beneath a roadside pavilion, awaiting the lessening of a gorgeous summer thunderstorm.

“You seem very thoughtful today,” Galadhmir prodded him.  “What is distracting you now?”

“I am not distracted,” Thranduil protested, admiring the torrential rain.  “I was merely reflecting on all the good fortune we have enjoyed these last years.”

“There was a time when I would not have believed it possible,” Galadhmir said, joining him in the sentiment, “but now the wood is clean, the reconquest complete, and new generations are blooming like wildflowers.  I know when we pledged to outlast the Necromancer we all suspected we would die trying, but it seems our work is done.”

 “Yes,” Thranduil agreed wistfully.  “Perhaps it is.”

Galadhmir’s smile abruptly vanished.  “Oh, come now, I did not mean it like that.”

“But I did,” Thranduil assured him.  “It does not have to be an entirely melancholy thought.  As you say, the wood is thriving.  Perhaps after all these years my work is done.  Perhaps I have finally served my purpose.  Perhaps,” he said, carefully articulating the possibility for the first time, “I may at last consider myself free to seek my peace in the West.”

Galadhmir seemed shocked to hear him say it.  “What has brought this on?” he demanded.

“It was nothing extraordinary,” Thranduil insisted, “and truly I have no desire to leave, but I can never be whole here.  I miss her, Galadh.  This place was our paradise, and without her I cannot enjoy it as I once did.”

Galadhmir sighed.  “No, I suppose not,” he agreed.  “Naturally, I and many others would prefer that you stay, but I can understand why you might wish to go.  Nothing this side of the Sea can ever be completely restored, can it?”

“Sadly, no, though I dare say we have made a very good effort.”

“It will be strange for the rest of us.  I have never imagined this place without you.”  Galadhmir paused and sobered again.  “Have you told Legolas?”

“I do not want to burden him with the possibility until I know my own mind,” Thranduil admitted.  “I find myself reluctant to make such a final decision.”

Galadhmir nodded.  “Go where you will and know the blessing of all Greenwood goes with you.  I trust Legolas will prove a worthy successor.” 

“No doubt,” Thranduil agreed with a bittersweet smile, “although I am sure his nature is better suited to other things.  Will you stay to guide him?”

“Of course, I will,” Galadhmir assured him.

When they had returned to the palace, Thranduil retired quietly to his chambers.  The place had been his sanctuary for so long that it seemed strange to imagine leaving it forever, but like so many other things, its best memories and associations were irretrievably in the past.  The Queen’s furniture remained as she had left it, faithfully cleaned and dusted through the centuries with special care taken to replace her belongings exactly as they had been left.  He would not suffer any piece of it to be removed.  It still looked as though she might return at any moment, but he knew she never would.  He must go to her.   

He opened her jewel box and drew out the emerald pendant he had first given her before either of them had crossed the mountains, and then closed it in his fist, torn between his greatest loves in life.  The Necromancer had ultimately failed to uproot him, and now he must perform the painful task himself.  He did not want to leave Greenwood, the kingdom his family had built and the happiest home they had ever known.  He did not want to leave the Galennath and he especially did not want to leave Legolas.  But he did not want to live alone anymore.  He had denied himself for a very long time. 

Thranduil went to bed that night feeling strangely content with the idea now that he had seriously considered it.  He had fulfilled the task she had given him.  After nearly four hundred years of peace, Greenwood was as vibrant as it ever had been, the evils of Mirkwood little more than a memory.  He would not be ready to leave tomorrow, or even that year, but he would be soon.  He had seen many good things come to an end during his lifetime and eventually he had learned that to wallow in regret brought nothing but misery.  He had been miserable quite long enough.  He would look ahead rather than behind, as his father had taught him to do, and face the changing world with expectation rather than grief. 

He fell asleep with her necklace still clutched in his hand, dreaming of going home to places he could still only imagine.