Brightest Stars | Love of Royals: Book I

XXXVIII: Vigorous Spring

My welcome back into the kingdom goes just as Thranduil had planned.  The whole morning slips away with hugs and tears and people complimenting Mîrceleb, and countless congratulations on our upcoming marriage.  Gelya and I have the longest and most emotional exchange, during which Thranduil's smirk is visible in my peripheral vision. I doubt he means to distract me, but he does nonetheless.

'I'm so happy for you! For both of you!' Gelya squeals, squeezing my hand that she has clasped in her own, 'and your ring, it's absolutely gorgeous!' She brings my ring finger up to examine Mîrceleb, its silver radiance reflecting in her wide eyes.

'Hannon-lë,' I reply excitedly, 'the ring is called Mîrceleb, and it once belonged to Thranduil's mother.'

'My father gave it to her before their marriage,' adds Thranduil, beaming proudly as he places a hand on my shoulder, 'the advisors are waiting for us, Elena. We should commence the meeting.'

Of course, the meeting. Thranduil did request for it to be as short as possible, but a meeting is necessary to put everything in order. There is so much to cover, however—all the arrangements Legolas was making about the restoration of the kingdom, the unavoidable topic of my claiming of the throne at Thranduil's side...

'One last thing,' I say firmly, gesturing for the remainder of Gelya's family, Legolas and Tauriel to gather around me, 'you've all done so much for me... and I don't even know why. I want to give you everything you want, because you deserve it. If there is anything any of you ever need, don't hesitate to ask.'

'Don't be silly,' answers Marieth, 'we don't want your rewards.'

'How else do I repay you?' I plead earnestly, 'I cannot do justice to how you have helped me over these past months.'

'And you don't need to,' Legolas assures me.

A moment's pause, in which I sweep my gaze appreciatively across the faces of the elves whom I have come to call my friends. 'Thank you. All of you. For everything.'

They all nod respectfully, touching their hands to their hearts. Even little Eirwen does so, mimicking her mother's action carefully. It warms my own heart to see her cleaned up and perky after yesterday's traumatic experience for her, though I fear the memories will haunt her for the rest of her life.

Thranduil allows Elidir and Marieth to join the meeting, while their children return to their (to my relief) undamaged home. The couple seat themselves placidly beside Legolas and Tauriel, evidently seeking some familiarity whilst confronted with the haughty glares of the other Sindar lords. I notice a few are missing. They must have fought valiantly for the cause that I started, and some must have lost their lives. Although, tragedy has not helped any of them see the light, and those who remain alive are still looking down their noses at the Silvans.

To my surprise, the Sindar lords do not look disgusted, or resentful, or remotely irritated when I take my seat at the table, with Tauriel on one side and Thranduil on the other.  In actual fact, they look pleased—save perhaps Tavalon and his sons, both of whom survived despite sporting a couple of nasty cuts on their arms and faces. My presence is acknowledged by respectful inclines of the head from all around, even from those who had once regarded me as though I were an insect worthy of squashing.

Our meeting does address the concerns I had predicted, firstly covering what I had hoped in vain to avoid. Yes, I am to be your new Queen. Yes, Thranduil is marrying a second time. No, it is not any of your business why. Yes, yes, yes, it is a long story.

Around halfway through, we are joined by Feren, who comes bringing various pieces of news about the current state of affairs. At least this adds a small amount of interest to what is proving to be an incredibly tedious meeting. Thranduil has, by this point, completely given up on trying to surreptitiously hurry it along, after his efforts have begun to have no result.

'I have something that might be of particular importance to you, your Majesty,' Feren says gravely, 'when our scouts went out to check if any orcs were still around, they found evidence that a small pack had tried to run for it. They didn't make it. They were killed on the road by an assassin called the Raven.'

I could swear I saw Thranduil's jaw tighten, but I decide to ignore it for now.

'How did you know who killed them?' Legolas enquires curiously.

'The Raven carves a crescent moon into the chest of whichever victim they killed last.  One of the orcs had this symbol engraved on their corpse.'  Feren purses his lips at the memory of this imaginably horrific sight.

Like me, Tauriel picks up on how little Thranduil is reacting to this news, so she launches a query.  'Does it not worry you, my lord, how close the Raven is to our borders?'

After a brief pause for thought, Thranduil responds almost monotonously, 'they often come nearby, but the Raven knows their territory as much as anyone.  We have nothing to fear.'

The matter is left there.  No one dares to question the King's statement, despite the obvious things left unsaid about this mysterious assassin.  As a Star, I know perfectly well the true identity of the Raven and why Thranduil is avoiding discussion on it, but I also know that it is best to keep some things quiet.  This is one of them.

As the conversation continues and once again drifts away from relevance and interest, I take to teasing Thranduil from underneath the table with my foot. His feet start responding, and it takes all my self-control not to giggle at the subtle smirk he sends me across the table. The glint in his frosted blue eyes could almost be described as mischievous as he begins to stare me down, his thick eyebrows raising ever so slightly for a fraction of a second. 

The second the meeting is over, Thranduil somehow manages to whisk me away from sight of other elves and down the corridor, his hand latched firmly onto my waist.  We barely make it through the door of our room before Thranduil has pressed me against the wall and claimed my lips with his, lacing his fingers in my hair. Thranduil is jewels and forests and light; he's the blossoms hanging from the trees; he's the very meaning of his name: vigorous spring. And vigorous he is, as he kisses me with such force, such fire that I lose myself entirely in him. I don't think I ever want to be found.

We finally pull out of the kiss to take a breath, and upon opening my eyes I realise Thranduil's dragon fire scars have appeared on the side of his face. He doesn't seem to have noticed, as he's still revelling in the moment. The dark red gashes extend all the way down one of his fine cheekbones, and one has even stretched right across his left eye. Thranduil opens his eyes, revealing one to be scarred white, and a flicker runs across them as he realises what has happened. It kills me to see him so ashamed of the scars, with which I believe he is equally beautiful.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I tap my finger on his lips to stop him, tracing their shape gently. Then, following my urge to reassure him, I close my eyes and lean in to kiss him on his left cheek, right where the skin has been burned. I hear him let out a sharp gasp as my lips make contact with the scar, but he soon relaxes as I place many kisses along that side of his face.

'Meleth nín, we have a meeting with the craft elves in ten minutes...' Thranduil breathes at last, the enchantment that conceals his scars finally glimmering back into place.

'They can wait,' I whisper in his ear, my hands still clutching the sides of his neck and my thumbs gently touching the edge of his sharp jawline.

He sighs, reluctantly carrying on.  'We need to speak about designs for your crown... and your throne...'

'Well, in that case...' I murmur, succumbing to the sense of intrigue planted in my mind, 'we'll go in five minutes.'  Thranduil cannot speak again when my lips are reunited with his, and I am once again flooded with the sensation of being the happiest Star in Arda.

***

Elvish:
Hannon-lë = thank you
Meleth nín = my love