The Last Elf Queen of Arda

Chapter 23 - The Deep Breath

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A single leaf fell from the bough of a tree overhead, fluttering and spiralling on its way. It caught in the hair of an elf who passed silently along the path below. There it stayed, an orange broach that waved with every light movement of the elf who bore it. Soon thousands and millions of its brothers and sisters would turn and fall as well, showering the Greenwood in a carpet of yellow, gold and rust.

"Here, let me see that meleth-nin."

Thranduil reined up his horse and leaned in close to where Anthelísse reclined on her litter. The queen-in-waiting was much too far gone in the final days of pregnancy to ride anymore. Reaching up, she plucked the little orange oak leaf from Thranduil's hair.

"The first leaf of autumn." Anthelísse commented, setting the leaf on the pillow beside her. She and Thranduil took a moment to look around at the ripening beauty of the forest around them. With a sigh Thranduil looked back toward Emyn Duir.

"I wonder if we shall ever return to claim these lands again." He said sadly. "I may have been born in Doriath, but the arms of the Black Mountains have ever been the only home I've known."

"Someday." Anthelísse reassured her husband.

"Someday..." Thranduil repeated, turning away from the winding road to keep pace with the caravan of elves. A full seven thousand of their folk wended along the narrow trails of the forest, all their earthly goods accompanying them on carts and wagons. It was slow going over the rough terrain of the Greenwood.

They could all feel the eyes of their scouts from the arms of the trees all around. Gurithon had expressed numerous times just how vulnerable they would be throughout the long journey north to The Halls. Every elf with any training in woodcraft had been drafted to act as a scout, and they had multiple guards watching out for orcs at all times in all directions. The main concern was for the flank of the caravan though, and that was where Gurithon had stationed himself along with Thenniel and her company.

For some reason though, what Thranduil saw then had escaped all notice save for his own. A silent movement in the forest caught his gaze, and the elf king found himself locked in a matched stare with an enormous stag. It was a magnificent creature, such as he had only seen once before. Memory recalled the mighty animal which had escaped the Mabon feast so many years ago.

"Thranduil?" Anthelísse called, noticing that he had fallen behind his usual position beside her litter. With her condition being so tenuous, Thranduil was rarely more than arm's length away.

The stag blinked, and the timeless void that had existed between the two of them was broken. With a bow of his formidable rack of antlers, the stag turned and vanished away into the shadows. Thranduil was left wondering if this was truly the same animal as before. It defied all logic, but the feel of a kindred spirit was present with just as much intensity now as it was then.

"Are you alright, meleth?" Anthelísse asked, leaning as far forward as she could with a puzzled expression. The glow of pregnancy made her ocean blue eyes shine almost unnaturally.

"Yes, yes I'm alright." Thranduil said, shaking himself and nudging his horse into a trot to keep up. "I almost wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me though."

Anthelísse smiled and reached for Thranduil's hand. "I have wondered much the same thing as of late. My dreams have taken strange twists and turns, sometimes I almost fear that I shall still be dreaming even during my waking hours."

"What have you dreamt? Anything concerning our child?"

Releasing Thranduil's hand that he might ride comfortably without being pulled half-over to one side, Anthelísse rubbed at her rounded belly. "I cannot say with any certainty. I am no seer, but there is one dream that comes back to me time and time again." The Lady of the Noldor shifted, although from physical discomfort or disquiet Thranduil could not tell. "Nearly every night since the last turn of the moons now, I have seen you...standing on a shoreline alone by nightfall. You pace and pace, and I can only watch you from afar. Then you stop and set a single leaf down upon the beach. Waves rise with the tide and carry the leaf out to sea, towards me, but I cannot reach you or call out to you." Anthelísse shuddered, wrapping her cloak tighter around her shoulders even though the chill of autumn had not truly descended yet. "I knew it was you in my dream, but I could not see your face. You felt so far away...so very far away from me. All I had of you was that little leaf."