Dragon Fire (Thranduil Fan-fiction) #Wattys2016

CHAPTER 5 : The letter

Note: I would write chapters in Thranduils POV too. This would be one of them. :D It's going to be a short one though.

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Thranduils POV

My eyes follow the elleth known as 'Flame of the Dragon' walk , rather briskly, out the throne room. I hold on to the scroll she had handed me earlier trying to bury the slight worry that was taking form inside me.

To be King means to have an iron reserve. I was not allowed to have emotions or to favor anyone more than another. My mistake was I treated my own son like the others and that is why he did not... like me. I let out a sigh, he was more like his mother with her kind heart and courage. I often worry how he would be like as a king. He was not one to sacrifice for the good of all, he was one that would try everything he could to not sacrifice anything- for the good of all.

I retreat to my chambers diminishing the thoughts of my late wife and the future of my son and our kingdom. Taking off my crown, I place the letter on my table not wanting to open it yet. I take my goblet, fill it with wine, and take a sit on my chair eyeing the letter cautiously. I was bahving like a child, how embarassing. He did not write much; he barely talks to me. I take sip after sip, embarrassed by the mere fact that I was afraid to open a letter my son had written for me simply because he had never done it before.

After a few moments and sips I find myself thinking about the elleth who had handed me the letter earlier. Mantheniel. Her eyes were strange, in my almost 3000 years of living I had never seen eyes quite like hers. They reminded me of the color the forest would have just as the sun would set. Dragon fire. There was nothing beautiful nor captivating about dragon fire and yet they use it to describe her. Why do I even care what they use to describe her? She was beautiful, yes, most of the elves in our kingdom had known about her. Although there was something unique about her beauty. Most elleth's had beauty that was serene and soft. She had a certain edge. The way her chin was prompt up slightly in pride. She had a strong character and yet something was hidden beneath that strength, something I could not put my mind to. Even the way she carried herself spoke less of grace but more of defiance. My people would talk often of her tale, some different then most. Their stories often reaching my ears of the elleth who had slain an army of orc's to protect her captain, although the captain himself did not survive still. It must have been hard on her. I know very well the pain of losing someone dear even after doing everything I could just to protect them.

Elrond had spoken dearly of her like she had been his own daughter. Always talking proudly of how she was a good fighter. My thoughts drift to how her heart had started beating faster the moment she looked at me, it is good that even strangers knew to fear me. Although her company neither feared nor seemed to care about who I was. Rare half-elf, like the one I had sent Legolas to meet. By the thought of Legolas my eyes dart towards the letter still rolled up in its position on the table.

I finish my wine before getting up and deciding to open the letter once and for all, switching the glass in my hand for it. My fingers touch the tip slightly, there was nothing to be afraid of, was there? I shake away any doubt or fear I had in my head- a skill I had mastered since becoming king, and open the letter. The words of my son flow through me sentence after sentence. I read it a second time, then a third before finally closing it back again and place it on the table. I feel a slight lightness accompanied by sadness in my heart before deciding that to think about it later for my people might be worrying as to why their king had not join them at the feast yet. I stare at the letter before taking my crown and head out to the courtyard where the music was playing.

When I reach the arch that served as the entrance to the courtyard I stop and take in the view before me. My people were eating and drinking, some were singing and dancing. Feasts under the stars was something me and my people had enjoyed since long before. My eyes travel to Lindethiel who was singing, with everyone else clapping along to her song. I often wished I could be as care-free as them but that is not something a king had the benefit of being.

I watch as Mantheniel clapped along to the music and song of her companion, the smile on her face was something that suited her. I had no idea why I thought her smile would be something rare. I found it odd how she was seated far away from the group and the flaming embers of the camp fire. A survivor of dragon fire. My hands instinctively go up to my left cheek before going back down to my sides again. The words of my son enter my head and I am filled with a slight dull as eyes like sunsets look into mine.