A shadow lies on Thranduil and his forest, and only a power stronger than the darkness of old can save them.
Grief and loss have turned him into a king with a heart of ice, and if he is ever to find redemption, the chains of guilt and remorse holdin...
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August 25, T.A. 2941 - Mirkwood
Unfamiliar voices in a strange language rose Anna from her sleep. Her drowsiness faded away instantly as she heard them approaching, whoever they were. She scrambled to her feet, hastily brushing off leaves and earth that clung to her clothes. This did not feel right. She had to stay hidden.
Instinctively she pressed herself against the mighty oak behind her, the bark rough and warm under her fingers, but one peek around the wide tree trunk was enough for her to realise that she was no longer where she had fallen asleep. The rustling of leaves had made her drowsy and carried her into a deep slumber, but something felt now altogether strange. These woods were not the same, they were way too crooked and gloomy to be growing near her home. Nothing seemed familiar except the tree she was holding on to. Don't panic, she said to herself, there had to be an explanation for this. There always was a logical solution to everything. But first she had more pressing matters to attend to.
Closer and closer the people came and with them the galloping of hooves and floating above everything else soft singing voices. She held her breath as she shrunk against the tree, but Anna's heart was beating like a drum, surely they would hear her and drag her from her hiding place and then she would never make it back home. She closed her eyes as if that would make her somehow invisible as the trail of people passed just behind her tree. It felt like nature itself had burst into song and was now filling her heart with images of far away places she had never seen, but somehow felt strangely drawn to, like a home she had never known it existed. The tree itself seemed to come alive under her touch, as if it were joining the tune, a song as old as the world itself. Her heart was suddenly overflowing with a yearning that came from an unknown place deep inside her. She was inexplicably pulled towards it with its ethereal voices, but somehow she was frozen to the spot, her legs wouldn't move and so the floating harmonies slowly faded, an echo of themselves, still filling the air but ever fainter as they moved past her tree and deeper into the forest.
Relief and sadness mingled in her heart as she dared open her eyes again and allowed herself a quick glance around the tree. It was an extraordinary sight indeed, strange people dressed in long elaborate gowns and with flowing hair well past their shoulders, bows and arrows slung around their backs, their horses gliding along effortlessly, a graceful picture of both elegance and melancholy. If she wouldn't have known it better she would have said they were Elves, but of course that was not possible, how could it?
"Don't move!" A commanding voice behind her told her that she was not alone. Of course it was foolish of her to have thought that her presence would go unnoticed, and by the sound of it her captor was more inclined to be hostile than friendly towards her.
"Please," she raised her arms to show that she was unarmed. "Don't hurt me."
"That remains to be seen."
The stern voice was now closer behind her and she could feel what was unmistakably the tip of a sword against her back. Her heart was beating so fast she feared it would burst and she broke out in a cold sweat. This was not good, not good at all.
