Chapter 2:  a world destroyed

…….roughly 3500 years earlier, about 1000 TA………..

The King looked up, annoyed when a knock sounded on his study door. His mood could only be described as testy. He was highly unsatisfied with how the day was progressing.

From the beginning nothing had turned out as it should have. The daily petitions had taken more time then scheduled and the council meeting had ended with a loud argument that he was forced to interrupt, pushing the remainder of the meeting off for another day.

On top of it all he had sorely missed his wife’s presence and assistance negotiating a trade agreement with the Mayor of Laketown, which had not turned out as he had either expected or hoped. Elarynia had been gone for four weeks now, visiting Lothlórien to see her parents, a trip which was long overdue or so she had argued.

Not able to accompany her for such a long time he had finally given in to her wish even if he was not comfortable letting her go alone. He had never been happy leaving his forest and most certainly not to visit her parents. He knew that her father was not fond of him, having deemed his daughter much too young to marry. Even though he had now been married to her for over one thousand years her father still used this old, dry argument.

Thranduil knew that this was not the real reason, even if Elarynia was very young compared to him. Her father had a personal dislike of him and made no secret of it. This aversion went back to his father Oropher, and he had never bothered to examine the real reason for this animosity.

So he was not really fond of visiting Lothloríen, even if Elarynia´s mother had always welcomed him warmly. But he could not deny his wife permission to visit her parents from time to time.

He had totally forgotten about the trade agreement and now it had turned out as expected; Elarynia was the diplomat not he. He snorted. It couldn’t be changed now.

What bothered him the most however, was the fact that he and Elarynia had nearly parted in anger when she expressed her desire to take their youngest son with her. Thranduil, barely comfortable with her travelling, had categorically refused this request.

Her parents had still to meet their third child. Legolas was only ten years old, much too young to leave the close surroundings of the palace. Even he had not dared to take his son along with him much. He was reluctant to give him into the care of his guards, even if they were part of his royal escort.

He did not deny his wife’s ability to protect their son. Undoubtedly she would do so with her life. But Thranduil knew what foul creatures roamed his woods and he was not willing to take any chances. He could not even think about losing his wife or his son, or at the worst, both of them.

A long and loud argument had finally ended with her tears and his consent. Many days of planning had gone into making sure that everything possible had been arranged to guarantee their safety. Yet from previous experience he knew that fate sometimes laughed in the face of the best laid plans.

Galadhion, his oldest son, along with the royal guards and ten additional warriors had accompanied her and Legolas to the borders of Lothlórien where a contingent of warriors of the Galadhirm had taken over her care and escorted her safely to Caras Galadhon.

A messenger bird had brought the news of their safe arrival and was received with great relief. The same procedure was planned for the return journey. Galadhion had already departed to await them at the meeting point.

Shortly before Elarynia’s departure they had finally reconciled and parted on friendly terms, yet the fierce argument continued to linger between them. Thranduil was still very distressed that he could not convince his wife to at least leave Legolas within the safety of his protection.

The argument had nearly flared up again when she declared that her father and the Lord of the Golden Wood were quite able to protect her son too.

Thranduil had no doubt about that, yet the lands between the two realms were the problem, and with the necessity of crossing it came many unforeseeable dangers.

Even the infectious excitement of his son at the immediate departure could not move the King’s troubled heart. He did not let the elfling feel his worry, of course, yet he could not dampen the disharmony flowing along their bond.

“I will take good care of him, my love,” Elarynia whispered and planted a loving kiss on her husband’s lips although she know that this would not change anything.

She had married this stubborn elf after all, and when he was not comfortable with something then nothing would change that.

“Return home safely, that is all that matters to me,” Thranduil answered with a thin smile. With a supreme effort he swallowed his anguish and returned her kiss earnestly. He did not want to burden her anticipation of visiting with her parent with his sombre mood, even if overwhelming concern was gripping his heart.

She only nodded and Thranduil felt her sudden uncertainty about whether she should have heeded his warning. With a guilty look he glanced at their son, already sitting on her mare chatting animatedly with the groom holding the horse.

The King squeezed her hand and she looked back at him. “Now go before I change my mind. Greet your parents from me. I’m inconsolable about not being able to come along.”

“Liar!” she retorted softly only for his ears to hear. With a last fierce embrace she turned and mounted her horse. “Ada, look I’m flying,” Legolas shouted while flinging his little arms in the air. The wind had caught his golden hair and he looked in awe at the long way down from the back of the tall beast.

The King stepped up to the mare and patted the dangling leg of his youngest. “Yes, my son with Silivrin under you it feels like flying indeed. Keep your hands on her mane and follow your mother’s orders, do you hear me?” Thranduil said softly, yet not without a bit of sternness in his tone.

Legolas laughed and bent down to embrace his father. “I will Ada!” he promised and the King sighed knowing how short-lived his son’s promises usually were.

Leaving the past behind, he concentrated on the strange events of the day.  In the middle of a fervid argument with the Mayor of Esgaroth he was suddenly assaulted through their bond by a surge of emotions coming from his wife. He felt shock, fear, anger and pain all at once.

Startled he had sprung up from his seat and had grown pale seconds later when their connection was interrupted as quickly as it was established. Thalan his chief advisor and closest confidant had stood in alarm when he saw his King sway and stagger.

Immediately Thalan had interrupted the meeting and declared a recess for an hour. The conference would then recommence. He had quickly cleared the audience chamber until only he and the King remained.

Thranduil was now seated again his head resting in his hands, his fingertips massaging his temples. Thalan waited patiently giving his King time to sort out what had just happened.

A short time later Thranduil had lifted his head and looked at his friend with a confused gaze. “Sire?” Thalan asked calmly, unsure what he should make of this.

The King shook his head. “I’m not sure but I fear that something has happened to Elarynia. Now all is quiet and I can get no further contact,” Thranduil answered. Thranduil’s gaze was unfocused, his thoughts seemingly far away.

Thalan narrowed his eyes. The term “something happened” disturbed him greatly, yet the return journey of his Queen was as heavily guarded as her departure had been. Ten of the best warriors including Royal Guards and even the Troop Commander were accompanying her. Thalan could not think of any attack that could not be repelled by these forces, yet something seemed to have happened, otherwise the Queen would not have contacted her husband in such a way.

When no further explanation was coming from the King, Thalan lightly touched Thranduil´s forearm. Like waking from a bad dream the King focused on him and took a deep breath.

“Nothing! I can sense nothing amiss. Maybe Elarynia is blocking me. Maybe they have encountered something on the way and now she does not want to worry me,” he tried to explain away what had happened, but lacked conviction. Again the ‘something’ was disturbing Thalan.

He did not want to add to his King’s distress. “My Lord Thranduil, I will send a scout ahead to determine what is amiss. Maybe we are worrying over nothing.”

Nodding Thranduil dismissed his advisor. He was as unconvinced as Thalan, yet all of the communication between he and his wife had ceased. Elarynia had occasionally blocked their bond in the past with the goal of not worrying or distracting him. Although he had objected to this she had continued the practice. Hopefully this time it was as harmless as those incidents from the past.

After Thalan had returned, the meeting had reconvened and nothing further had distracted him. Fleetingly an alarming thought stole into his mind. He would know if Elaryina had been killed, wouldn’t he? He prayed that the scout would return soon. His anxiety was growing with the minute.

Another knock at his door ripped the King out of his melancholic thoughts. “Enter!” he called out in an annoyed tone to let the servant know how unwelcome this new interruption was.

The door to the chamber opened and Galion walked in. All of his fears from earlier came back with a vengeance. Only five hours had passed and the scout had not yet returned.

His mood changed from annoyed to worried within seconds. Galion was the captain of his Royal Guard. What was he doing here? He had been assigned to escort Elarynia and Legolas home.

The younger elf was limping badly, a bloody bandage bound tightly around his thigh and his appearance in such disarray that Thranduil already felt numb.

Seeing the open anguish in the captain’s eyes Thranduil stood slowly then rounded his desk until he was standing in front of the injured elf.

“What happened!” the King demanded sternly the dark foreboding from earlier had returned and his restraint was nearly snapping. Having expected nothing less Galion swallowed and involuntarily stepped back a step, quailing under the King’s burning gaze.

Licking his dry lips, the guard mastered all his courage and with a supreme effort he steadied his voice.

“My Lord, our escort was attacked by a large band of orcs. After a furious battle we repelled them, but…” the elf’s voice broke and Thranduil froze, barely able to breathe.

Both elves struggled with their composure but the King recovered his focus first.

“Captain?” he queried his voice not as steady as he had hoped. Raising his eyes it was now on Thranduil to step back a step at the raw grief he saw in the captain’s eyes.

The room was already spinning around him as the King heard the words he dreaded.

“My Lord, I am sorry to inform you that the Queen was killed and your son is missing!”

To be continued……………………

A/N

Silivrin – sparkling – white

Legolas is ten years – that compares to a three-year-old human child.