A Lasting Legacy [ Thranduil X OC ]

Chapter 10

The next morning, Thranduil was surprised to see Arden up bright and early, training his men.
Watching from a window, it was clear that his soldiers held Arden in high respect and admiration.
Some of the younger ones even had looks of love on their faces causing him to laugh.
Throughout the rest of the week she was true to her word.
She got up before dawn for the morning session, was present for the noon session, and finished the day by training them before the sun disappeared fully.
At some point a guard had alerted him that her tent had also been found to be situated along the western border.
Everything was going great and Thranduil couldn't have been more pleased with himself in turning a losing battle into a gained opportunity.
At the end of the day, he was not wrong.
His men badly needed more structure and stricter routines, Arden had said as much.
He hadn't spoken to her in length the past few weeks, instead leaving a list of things for her to do with a guard, however it seemed that would soon change.
Throughout those weeks, his men pestered him about how tired Arden was and how pale she looked.
He didn't care.
She had a job to do and he was not her keeper.
Finally one night a soldier came rushing to him.
Looking up from what he was doing with raised brows, Thranduil didn't have to wait long for the soldier to speak.
In a rush he sputtered,
"My king, Captain Arden looked very unwell today and didn't come back for our evening spar. We believe she is in her quarters."
Frowning, Thranduil closed the book he was reading, thinking over his words.
"You say she is in her tent? Go in and check on her then, I don't have time for such trivial problems."
With a wave of his hand, Thranduil dismissed the worried man but still he continued to stand there.
"Sir, we cannot go into her living space. It's unseemly and indecent. It would show much disrespect to her as a Queen as well."
Frustrated with the continued delay, Thranduil huffed.
"Fine I shall see what the issue is and fix it myself."
Getting up, Thranduil followed the soldier.
If there was in fact anything wrong, Thranduil was glad he was only wearing a plain tunic and trousers today.
But she didn't bleed so he suspected he could rule that out.
Making it to the western wall of trees that bordered his kingdom, he saw her tent.
It was simple and small, but built of quality materials.
Thankfully it was tall enough for a full grown elf to stand up in as well, considering he was a few inches taller than her.
As they neared the entrance, the soldier stopped a few yards away and turned as though giving privacy.
Thranduil rolled his eyes and stood outside the flap covering the entry way.
Hearing no movement, he thought of what to say but could not think of anything.
Forgoing the greeting, he opened the side and entered.
Instantly the smell of lavender engulfed him along with other feminine scents.
Looking around the tidy area, he instantly saw a lone figure lying on a mat on the floor.
Walking over, he saw that it was Arden and that she did look quite pale.
Deathly pale.
Frowning, he bent low and felt her skin.
She was burning up.
Must be a fever of sorts, although a temperature like this was bound to indicate infection.
He shook her gently, trying to wake her.
Calling her name, he pulled the blankets off her form and saw she was thankfully clothed in a modest white nightgown.
Quickly he left the tent and called for the soldier to summon a healer, then returned.
Stooping low to the ground, he slid his arm under her and deftly picked her up.
Fleeing the tent, he walked as quickly as possible to the palace, calling for different people to get different things.
In all of this the only emotion he really felt was surprise.
For someone who could take a sword through the stomach and not shed a tear, she sure was dainty and light.
After entering the castle, he came upon the first available guest room, set her on the bed and pulled back the covers.
A servant appeared with a cold cloth and he waited for the healer to arrive.
If the queen was lost on his watch, a civil war would start.
Not just her people but the race of elves in general and most likely others.
Many would remember his hatred towards her and claim it to be foul play.
He could most definitely count on the race of dwarves, men and most elves taking her side to avenge their friend.
Hell all of Middle Earth would probably fight for her.
He could of laughed if it wasn't so serious; a sick, low born half-bred elven woman had the world as her army.
She had become a completely different entity at some point, when, he did not know.
Looking at her prone figure and her shaky breathing he couldn't also help but feel guilty and responsible for her peril.
He began to pace, the healer couldn't get here soon enough.

Arden tried to fight the darkness.
She knew she needed to get up but could not.
A heavy weight covered her entire body and it hurt to move.
She needed to though, it was so hot.
She tried to open her eyes but found she could not do that either, they to were weighed down.
Faintly, she recalled being at practice and having a horrible and nauseating pain in her side.
Calling practice to an end early, she went to her tent, stumbled to change and laid down, utterly exhausted.
The next thing she could remember was faintly hearing her name being called, "Arden".
After a few more times, she dismissed it, too tired to act upon it.
Now here she was, once more fighting to wake.
This was impossible though as somehow her body felt lighter, cooler and more comfortable.
If anything, sleep was now pulling her even deeper and she once more succumbed.

Fun fact;
The Return of the King (film) came out in 2003, when the memory of 9/11 was still fresh in many people's minds.
So when choreographing the destruction of Sauron's tower, the creators were careful to make sure it didn't resemble the World Trade Center attack.