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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As much as she tried to stay awake through the rest of her journey, Anna only held out for a few hours. Her endurance, if she ever had possessed any, was nearly non existent after all she had been through in these past days. Sleepiness and exhaustion eventually got the better of her and about halfway through she must have dozed off again. Only vaguely she noticed when Thranduil carefully moved her into a more comfortable position and at some point her hands gave up their grip on the saddle altogether and she slumped backwards against his chest. The wintry cold crept into her bones despite the thick cloak and the Elvenking's firm embrace. After what resembled half an eternity the steady pace of Silvermane finally slowed down and Thranduil's voice rose her from her drowsiness.
"It will not be long now. We are almost there."
Shifting in her seat she willed her eyes open, the greyish gloom of dusk making it hard to discern anything through the impenetrable wall of trees that lined the path on either side.
"Good," she mumbled, "I almost cannot feel my limbs anymore."
"You will be able to stretch them out again soon, I promise," he said, accommodating his arm around her to keep her in a steady position during those last moments of their journey.
She squinted into the darkening pathway ahead and far off in the distance where the trees seemed to shy away from each other they now opened up the view for the familiar outline of the palace gates and not long after, the bridge spanning the forest river came into sight. Despite her earlier reservations against returning to the palace, she could not have been happier at the prospect of finally being able to exchange the confines of a horse-back for the comfort of a warm bed. Thranduil brought Silvermane into a slow trot and the layers of snow that had accumulated on the bridge muffled her steps as they approached the gates of the palace.
"Welcome back," Thranduil whispered and Silvermane neighed contentedly, as if in happy anticipation of well-earned food and rest.
When the heavy stone doors were pulled open a sudden wave of noise flooded her ears and her eyes were blinded by the dim amber light of Mirkwood's halls, which seemed just like brilliant daylight after so many days of darkness in the forest. Everything had been prepared for their impending arrival, servants and guards swarming busily to their side, but Thranduil wouldn't let go of her, ignoring the strange looks as well as the stretcher that had been made ready and simply proceeded to carry her to her room in his arms. Only that he did not halt at what was unmistakably the door to her room. She stirred in his hold, a confused look on her face.
"I—, I think we just passed my room."
"I know," he said. "That is because you will be getting a new room, a more spacious one and adjacent to my chambers as well. Everything has been already arranged accordingly."
"Thank you, that's very thoughtful of you." She snuggled her head against the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent and soaking in his warmth. Who knew for how long she would be able to have him so close to her once he was caught up again in the palace's daily routine, so she made sure to savour every second of being in his arms, even if it was just a healer carrying his patient.
