Princess of Arnor - The King's Regent (Under Edit)

Chapter One: Cries in the Darkness

"Good, I want you gone by sunrise and do not hurry back. It will give you time to reflect on where your loyalties lie." - Thranduil

25th January/ Narwain 3019, The Elven Halls

A piercing scream woke Thranduil from his dreams, and he sat up with a start. But apart from himself, his chamber was silent and empty. Still, he could not shake a feeling of foreboding that prevented him from resuming his rest. Over the deep winter, things had been too quiet for his liking. He found himself looking southward increasingly these days, with a resigned expectation, rather than fear. Why do they not come and get it over with?

But of course, he knew why. Sauron knew exactly where they were and was in no hurry to collect his prize, at least for now. Thranduil rose from his bed and went over to the side table where a water jug and glass goblet stood waiting. He poured himself a glass and let the cool, refreshing water restore him.

Padir's gentle knock on the chamber door caught his attention, and he bid him to enter. "You are awake Hir Aran nin."

"I am."

"I have had word from Lady Thorwen's attendants. They ask you to come to her chamber right away."

He did not need Padir to go into details. The scream that had woken him told him enough. "Pass me my bedrobe," he ordered.

"Surely you should dress first Hir Nin, it would not be appropriate for you to....."

"There is no time. I must go."

He did not wait for Padir, but placed the robe on himself as he walked through his chambers towards the entrance. Padir scurried behind, trying to explain the situation. "It's like a waking dream, but they cannot rouse her from it," he called. But Thranduil was already out of the entrance door and down the corridor, striding toward Thorwen's chamber. Many thoughts went through his mind, but his greatest fear was that Sauron was trying to reach her again.

Thranduil hammered on the door and a Silvan Elf called Fenil quickly opened it. She and another attendant, Gelben, had only been in Thorwen's service since the unpleasantness of a few seasons passed. On seeing the King she bowed very low. But he brushed past her, desperate to see Thorwen. Celephinniel met him on the steps, looking uneasy. "We have managed to wake her, though she is still distressed. Calenamath is with her."

Thranduil's eyes widened, and his nostrils flared. "Calenamath? What is he doing here?"

"He came out of his chamber as I arrived. He only wanted to help."

Thranduil rushed up the steps to see Calenamath sitting by Thorwen's bed. Thorwen was sitting in bed, weeping in his arms hysterically. How could he? For all his promises, the first chance Calenamath got, he was at her side. It took all of his resolve not to confront him, but his concern for Thorwen dominated his inner fury.

Calenamath slowly looked up at Thranduil's furious gaze. His eyes were mournful, as if in receipt of grave news. "Thranduil is here now," he whispered.

Thorwen turned her red, tear-stained face towards him. Then rose from the bed, almost throwing herself at him and shaking with fear. Calenamath remained seated. Thranduil embraced her before sitting her down on the side of her bed. "What trouble's you, Melleth Nin?"

Thorwen slowly found her composure, swallowing before she spoke. "Mithrandir...........is gone......."

A multitude of thoughts sprung to Thranduil's mind. Could this be nothing more than a bad dream? Thorwen had suffered many of these in the early days as his ward, but not after her release from the Enclave. Unless her trauma was now manifesting, he knew only too well that what seemed like recovery could lapse into despair. But he could not dismiss Thorwen's terrible reaction as nothing but a dream. "What do you mean, gone?" he asked gently.