Lost Tales from Middle-earth

Lonely King

Thranduil sat alone on his wooden Throne. 

He was lonely. 

His family was gone. His father had died before him on the battlefield and his mother had followed her husband to the Halls of Mandos not long afterwards. His wife Caladil also had perished and he was now estranged from his only son who he had sent far away, for in mind he resembled much his mother and the King did not want all of his feelings to come back.

For hundreds of years he had hid under a mask. A mask to protect his people, for as their King he could not show what he truly felt, and a Mask to protect himself. He knew that if he let go, even were it only for a second, he would drown in an abyss of death and despair. He had to stay strong for his Kingdom. He had to stay strong for his son.

Only now, as he truly had no one with him, he started to think again about his long lost Love. How he missed her.

Alcariniel Ruivewen of Valinor.

He closed his eyes, remembering her laughter, a contagious one, echoing in the trees, he could see her eyes, shining so bright that they blinded him and her scar, which he found made her more beautiful still.

He could feel her hand in his, and her lips pressed against his. She had been his true Love. He had loved Caladil, but never as much as the elleth who had never truly left his mind.

O, Illúvatar help him! If only he could see her once more!

If she still was alive.

She had to be. The very idea that she could be dead killed him. The last he had seen of her was but a glimpse during the battle of the Last Alliance. No one had heard of Alcariniel since, for he had asked many survivors if they had seen her.

He did not sleep that night, gazing instead at the Stars and remembering the day that she left.

It was a full Moon and the forest path they were on was twinkling with the light of the fireflies that twirled around them creating a mystical aura all around. They arrived at their favorite clearing in Greenwood, for it was full of flowers and a small spring crossed it. The Moon, may he always shine, was bright upon her face, but when she looked up, she seemed terrified. Before he could blink, scarlet fur started to cover her body and soon a Wolf stood in her place. His eyes widened.

She was a skin-changer.

Never had he seen such a magnificent creature, so full of grace and beauty, shining in the starlight, and in that moment he wondered if he would have to fight many others for her, for she was so incredible that surely others should love her, and he feared that she would leave him for another, but she did not understand what he dreaded exactly, so she fled faraway.

Weeks later he had lost his Adar, quickly followed by his Nana. Always he was reminded of his failure at protecting Oropher, who pushed him out of the way of the flames, receiving the full extent of the Fire. There had been no body left to bury.

Then Caladil arrived. She was but a simple Silvan Elleth, one of the servants of the Palace, but she had brought laughter back to him. It was not the same laughter as he had before, when with Alcariniel, Wild and free, but it was laughter still.

He had known that he had to wed soon, to continue the Royal line and give faith to his People, so he chose her. He soon became very fond of her and loved her very much.

The happiest day of his Life since Alcariniel had left him had been when his son was born. That day had been bright, warm and the Sun shined her bright beams on the colorful forest, so the new Prince was named Legolas, Greenleaf.

His little Leaf soon became the Gem of Greenwood, his dashing looks taking after those of his father but his heart the one of his mother, and all loved him.

Legolas was fifteen hundred years old when the wars against Angmar killed Caladil. That day, when his wife died in his arms, Thranduil had vowed never to love again, for it hurt too much to lose all those whom he let himself open up to.

He then became cold towards his son, not wanting for his child to suffer if he died, sparing him the loss of losing a great father. Although he felt terrible and cruel, he did not show even a hint of what he truly felt. He had then been named the King of Wood and Stone.

Years later the Spiders had arrived by hundreds, invading the Home of the Wood Elves and forcing them to flee to the Caves.

Since then these caves had been made Great, enough for a King and his court, and were protected by the magic of Thranduil, none being able to breach its gates. Only one had escaped the King's vigilance, but in the End all had ended well, Smaug the Dragon was slain and alliances with men and dwarves were forged anew. Dwarves. He despised dwarves. They were greedy, stubborn and self centered. He also had very personal reasons to hate them. First of All, they had not aided the Edain and the Eldar during the battle of the Last Alliance, and second, they had stolen his gems. The necklace that had belonged to his wife. He had only wanted to offer a gesture of peace, trusting them, but he had been a fool to.

In the end it had been a small Hobbit who had solved the problem. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. He still was quite astonished by the Halfling who had given his share of a great treasure only to avoid a fight which had no impact whatsoever on him. A small part of his mind wondered what the hobbit could be doing at the present time, but mostly it was Alcariniel that he thought of, night and day alike.

How he missed her...