Lady of Rivendell

Chapter 1

Aelin ran around Elrond's legs impatiently. For a five-year-old elf she was small, but she could still cover ground faster than he was walking. Glorfindel walked behind them, watching carefully for spiders. "Ada." She tugged on his sleeve. "Ada, I'm tired. Are we there yet?"

"If you are tired, you ought to stop all this running. You can walk with me without all this. Yes, lellig. We are almost there." Elrond gazed at his daughter fondly, then returned his gaze to the path. Thranduil used to have guards stationed here, he mused. Things were perhaps worse than he had hoped in Mirkwood. He was glad he had brought Aelin, for the young prince's sake if nothing else. He was certain now that Thranduil was in far worse condition than he himself was after the battle.

After a few minutes, he scooped Aelin up. "Tiro! That, lellig, is Thranduil's palace."

The little girl squealed in excitement and wriggled out of her father's embrace, bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes.

***

Elrond turned to Glorfindel. "Watch her for a moment. I need to talk to him." Glorfindel nodded, and turned to Aelin, softly murmuring to her to stay with him. Elrond strode forward. He'll be in their chambers. He paced the hall, struggling to remember the way. The last time I was here, it was for a wedding. Now I am here for a funeral. An oaken door stood at the end of a hall. A monogrammed L and T marked the mantle. Lethwen and Thranduil. He knocked.

"Thranduil, I'm here. I want to talk to you."

"Elrond. Come in."

He entered. There, lying on the bed staring at a lock of blond hair, was Thranduil. He was uncharacteristically lax, his eyes flicking blankly. "Why are you here? Can you not leave me and my kingdom to grieve in peace?"

"Mellon. I had hoped we might share our grief. We have both lost our wives, been left with young children to raise. If there is anything you wish to say-"

Thranduil rose with an unearthly speed. "You think you have suffered the same?" he hissed. "Celebrian lives. You will see her again. Not so with my Lethwen. You have grown children to comfort you. Do you know what it is to look into your son's eyes and tell him his mother is not returning for him? To bury your One after such a short time together?"

Elrond turned, to his surprise not anger but simply exhaustion in his heart. "They have Celie's eyes. Exactly her eyes. Every time I look at any of my children-" He broke off, then resumed. "And yet they are not like enough. Celebrian always rejoiced that all the children looked so much like me, but now I find myself regretting it. And Arwen, too, is so young. She understands hardly more than her sister of her mother's fate. And my boys have been forced to grow up far too quickly."

Thranduil shook his head noncommittally, then stopped and stared at Elrond. Tears slowly rolled down his cheek. "I apologize, mellon. I did not think. It is too much to bear, I know."

"I want to meet him. Your son. Come, meet my daughter and Glorfindel."

"Why bring such a little elfling?"

"She is less than a decade younger than Legolas, I think. Not so little. There are no other elves so close to her age, not in Rivendell. I had hoped they would become friends."

Thranduil nodded. "Good. I am certainly no fit company for a little boy; not in my condition."

"We will stay so long as we can. Elladan has taken over matters in Rivendell. He has a talent for it."