Jaynaé Marie

Chapter VI: The Second Awakening (Pt. II)

As we entered the gates, the court ceased its duties as they looked upon us—especially the elegant beauty of Galadriel. Amdir had gone ahead to send word to King Thingol of their guests. We approached the throne just as Amdir returned with the king with Daeron at his side.

“Finrod, son of Finarfin,” King Thingol said. “Welcome to Doriath.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Finrod answered. “Your generosity has preceded you.”

King Thingol smiled. He motioned to Finrod and his family to follow him away. When they had left, Mîrwen and Nimeithel approached us.

“Who were they,” Mîrwen asked.

“They come to us from Mithrim,” I said.

“They are the siblings of Angrod,” Oropher added. “I trust they all remain with us for a time.”

“The lady is quite lovely,” Nimeithel said.

“Quite,” I answered. “Lovely but peculiar.”

“Let us be on our way, Nimeithel,” Mîrwen said. “We must help prepare the Queen for tonight.”

Mîrwen kissed me and they were on their way. Súlwë looked on—his face tense.

“I need to find Êlengolas,” I said. “I shall leave you to your duties.”

Oropher, Súlwë, Eldôr, and Amdir nodded. I left them knowing where I would find Êlengolas. He was with Mablung and Beleg learning about Legolas.

“You are from Valinor,” I heard Êlengolas ask as I entered the hall outside the throne room.

“I am,” Legolas answered. His confidence was as crisp as his striking gray eyes and long golden hair.

“Are there others as you,” Êlengolas queried again.

“There is,” Legolas said. “He is called Glorfindel. From the House of the Golden Flower.”

I could see by Êlengolas’ expression I needed to interrupt.

“I am Orothôn,” I said quickly, greeting our new guest. “We met earlier.”

“It is a pleasure,” Legolas answered.

“How long will you be with us,” I asked.

“For as long as we are welcomed,” he said. “No longer.”

I thought his answer sounded unusual but I said nothing.

“Êlengolas, may I have a word?”

He followed me around a corner.

“The House of the Golden Flower,” he finally said laughing.

“You know our visitors are kin to the King,” I asked.

“Are they from the House of the Golden Flower?”

I hit his arm hard.

“What?”

“The ones he guards are kin to the King. They come from Mithrim.”

“They came from Valinor,” he said. “Why are these elves leaving the home we should be living in?”

“It is a long story,” I began. “I will speak of it later. Meanwhile, I expect you to mind your manners.”

Êlengolas glared at me.

“Orothôn, please,” he started. “I am not a child. Your royal duties do not require that you play nursemaid to me.”

“Only when Iarûr is absent,” I said, smiling.

“You know something,” he said.

“I do, but as I said before, I will speak of it later.”

“After dinner,” he said. He took his leave. I stood there thinking to myself as an uneasy feeling came over me. I went to my chambers to prepare for the evening.

When we were in the Great Hall awaiting the entrance of the King and Queen, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Everyone was in their place—some were quietly chatting amongst themselves. Soon, the sound of music filled the hall and King Thingol, Queen Melian, their daughter Lúthien entered with Finrod, Orodreth, Aegnor, and Galadriel. It was then that Celeborn became enamored. It was hard not to notice as his face was glowing brighter than the lanterns in the room.

When everyone was seated, dinner was served. On this night, there were more delights than usual and everyone took advantage. Things were going well and my mind was put at ease. The celebration went on late into the night.

As promised, after dinner, I found Êlengolas and under the light of the moon. I told him all that I knew—from Nimernil to the coming of Finrod.

“Well,” he said when I finished. “That is quite a tale. Why did you not tell me this before?”

“I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Orothôn.“

“I did not know where to begin,” I said. “It was not until Finrod came that everything Súlwë said made sense.”

“When King Thingol learns of this, it will not go well.”

“You will say nothing,” I said.

“I do not have to say anything,” Êlengolas said. “I trust someone will say it to him.”

“Who would dare tell the King of such slaughter upon his brother’s house?”

“My guess would be someone from his brother’s house.”

“I do not think Súlwë will be the one to tell him,” I said. “He does not want to risk his identity to be revealed.”

“I do not believe he will be the one,” Êlengolas said pensively. “Love will make anyone tell secrets and truths.”

“Love,” I asked. “What has love to do with this?”

“I know you saw Celeborn as he looked upon the Lady Galadriel,” he began. “Did you notice how she looked upon him?”

“No,” I answered.

“It is for no one to say but her,” he said. “She will speak when her heart is ready. I do worry, though.”

“Worry?”

“What a burden to bear for ambition. Olwë is her mother’s father. What could be worth more than the life of your own kin?”

I said nothing. When he was wise, Êlengolas could make me think deeper on things. I could not imagine the guilt these elves would carry for eternity. On our way back to the palace, we happened upon Celeborn with Galadriel. They were very much in love. I knew Êlengolas was right—it would not be long before all would be revealed.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 6-24-2019

Note to @staff: This is a book. The photo–from a movie: See copyright information. Galadriel and Celeborn are fully-clothed. 

The meeting most people were waiting for--Celeborn and Galadriel have fallen in love against the backdrop of the kinslaying her great-uncle King Thingol has yet to learn about. Legolas (the first one) speaks about another famous elf known as Glofindel.

Chapter V: The Coming of Time (Pt. I)

We made our way through narrow corridors to rooms filled with armor, shields, spears, and bows that King Thingol had stockpiled over many years for the occasion of war. The only sounds were the clashing of metal blended with the murmurs of armor-bearers hard at work. When they were finished, we took our weapons and began our return to the surface—our armor dragging against stone walls with an eerie lullaby.

We assembled in the empty hall that before had held such promise. I thought of Oropher. I wanted to look for him but my new wardrobe made it difficult. My view remained on the empty throne. Before long, King Thingol and Elmo appeared dressed similarly to us.

“You will follow us into Ossiriand,” King Thingol said flatly; his expression stoic. “I have it on good authority that our enemy looks to start with the least protected to force out the most in the attempt to destroy us all. This is no ordinary adversary we fight. This is an evil from whence time began. Its desire to extinguish life is only matched by its desire to rule over it. It will fight to the death and so must we. The future of this world depends on it.”

King Thingol and Elmo stepped down from their thrones and became one of us. When I was able to turn my head, I could see Galathil to my left.

“We will follow Father,” he whispered. “Galadhon will accompany our uncle.”

“Where are our sons,” I asked.

“They are to remain behind,” he answered. “To protect the borders.”

I could feel relief fall upon me. It was like a cool breeze flowing through my suit. If I did not return, at least my son had a chance to live as he would remain protected by the Girdle of Melian with his mother.

As we followed the king and his brother out of Menegroth, the faces of our families looked on from behind. I dared not look for Mîrwen. I wished the last I saw her would be her smile as our son married his beloved.

With Menegroth growing smaller in the distance, the familiar path we marched brought back the time we first entered Doriath after years the wilderness. Still, beneath the girdle, things were at peace—the world beyond had yet to bear witness to the peace we had known. It was changed and we had not for we chose to live our lives in relative secrecy. The evil around us seemed like myth yet we were told of its reality. We hoped it was legend—something that had passed away never to return. Now we were about to fact this nemesis we knew very little about.

We continued our journey to the borders. When we came to it, we stopped.

“Once we cross this boundary,” King Thingol began. “Only the stars hold our fate in their hands.”

Not a sound was heard—not a breath was taken. I felt the earth move beneath my feet only to realize I was walking with other elves into another land. Unremarkable was the world I once left behind yet the air was different. There was a distant stench I was not familiar with. Further away, we heard a rumbling. I noticed we were marching in the direction of both. The closer we came, the greater the sound and the stronger the smell.

With little warning, we came upon creatures so hideous and malodorous, I nearly fainted. Armor-clad with features that could only be called scaly but oleaginous. Their numbers seemed infinite in the light of the stars.

“Fire,” I heard Elmo say. Arrows flew past my head and pierced the flesh of a few of these monsters. It only served to anger them more. They broke ranks and came at us with such fury, I barely had time to draw my sword. I felled one—then another and another and another. Their evil was palpable and their numbers never-ending. I felt I was fighting for every year of my life. Out of exhaustion or perhaps a wound, I fell down amid the corpses of elves.

“Orothôn,” I heard a voice say. I thought I was in a dream. “Orothôn, are you with us?”

I opened my eyes. I was lying on top of a dead elf. His eyes stared into mine in anguish. I quickly jumped up in horror. I looked to see Galathil standing beside me.

“Are you alright,” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” I answered. I looked around to see elves and dwarves lying motionless. The carnage seemed to go the length of the Ered Luin.

“Where is Galadhon,” I asked. “Where is Elmo? Where is King Thingol?”

“Calm down,” Galathil said. “They live. I am afraid I cannot say the same for Denethor.”

I looked around trying to find his face among many. There were so many faces—each one staring into the void of death. Suddenly I remembered my friends.

“Where is Valdôr,” I asked. “Was he not with us?”

“He is gone, Orothôn,” another voice said. It was Êlengolas. “He fell not long after Denethor.”

I could not help but cry. I was overcome with grief. My visions had come to bear the bitter fruit of death I longed feared. Êlengolas and Galathil helped me navigate through the bodies and off the field of battle. In my grief, I hardly noticed Ónarr speaking with King Thingol nearby. I had again realized his people were among the dead and my grief worsened. I longed to be with Mîrwen and Oropher. I wondered if there was any home left to return to. Just as I began to drown myself in my thoughts, an elf approached me.

“You must stay strong, Orothôn,” he said. “Or else you will perish from your grief.”

I looked up to see Iarûr.

“You are here,” I said.

“I am,” he answered. “Not all is lost. For even in darkness light must shine. Rest, my friend. For soon we will return home.”

I smiled weakly as I leaned against the trunk of a tree and felt myself drift into a deep rest. I opened my eyes to the sound of metal against metal. Startled, I looked up to see soldiers picking up weapons from the ground.

“Did I startle you,” a young elf asked me.

“Yes, but I am fine,” I answered. “Carry on.”

He nodded and went on his way. When I rose to my feet, I saw that the creatures seem to retreat the field.

“They are orcs,” Êlengolas said as he approached from behind. “That is what Iarûr calls them.

“Where are they going,” I asked.

“I do not know nor do I care,” he said angrily. “They killed many of us. They left many a widow to grieve to make orphans. I suspect we have not seen the last of them.”

“Are we to leave for Doriath,” I asked.

“Yes, he said. “We were about to depart. I was sent to tell you. How is your arm?”

“My arm,” I asked. I look to see my arm was wrapped tightly from my elbow to my shoulder. For the first time, I felt the pain. “I was wounded by an orc?”

Êlengolas looked at me confused as he shook his head.

“Come on,” he said.

We made our way toward King Thingol and Elmo eating along with Galathil and Galadhon. King Thingol nodded at me and we began our return to Doriath.–TKWRT Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller. 4-7-2019

The War of the Great Jewels 💎 has begun with the first battle of Beleriand. Orothôn fights orcs for the first time. He loses two friends—Valdôr and Denethor of Ossiriand.

Chapter III: Doriath (Pt. III)

After dinner, Mîrwen decided to return to our quarters to see about Oropher. I decided to wander the halls of our new home. Its long labyrinthian passages seemed to have no end to them until another corner appeared to lead me elsewhere. At one particular turn, my jour was interrupted by Daeron.

“Are you lost,” he asked.

“I am not quite sure,” I answered.

“Well, let me be of service and help you find your way,” he said sharply. “These corridors can lead to places you do not want to go.”

“Of course,” I said, my curiosity growing. “I would not want to go where I am not welcome.”

“It is not that you are not welcome,” Daeron answered. “It is dangerous to roam Menegroth alone. One can easily disappear never to be seen again.”

We began walking toward a familiar hallway.

“If I may ask, what is it that you do for King Thingol?”

“Whatever his majesty wishes,” he said. “My main function is the keeper of lore.”

When we came to my quarters, we stopped.

“Is there anything else you care to ask me,” Daeron asked.

“No,” I answered. “Not at the moment. You will forgive me if I have offended you in any way. It was not my intention.”

“You have not offended me,” he answered. “If I may, I will take my leave.”

I nodded and he walked away swiftly. I wanted to return to discovering other caverns but I knew I needed to speak with Mîrwen. She had become more distant and it concerned me greatly. The guards opened our chamber doors. When I entered, Mîrwen was sitting by one of the vaulted windows I walked over to her and looked out. There were gigantic waterfalls flowing into a dark abyss—their roaring waters were a lullaby. Mîrwen looked at me. I could not find the words to say.

“How is Oropher,” I asked.

“He is sleeping peacefully,” she said.

“Very well,” I said. It was all I could think to say.

“Uncle is entranced,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He has fallen completely under the spell of his wife and queen.”

“Yes,” I said perplexed. “They seem quite enamored with each other.”

She glared at me.

“Why does this not bother you?”

“Why does this bother you,” I asked. “You will excuse me if I find no fault with it.”

“Of course you would find no fault with it. Why would you?”

“That is the very question I should ask of you,” I answered.

“You only see what you want to see, Orothôn,” she growled. “Can you for once see what I see?”

“No,” I yelled. “I cannot see why you see! I am quite thankful for that! What is wrong with your uncle being in love with his wife, Mîrwen?”

“She is not one of us,” she said.

“What does that mean,” I asked. “What does that have to do with love?”

“Queen Melian is a maiar,” she said.

I looked at my beloved and wondered what she was talking about.

“Oh,” I said. “That changes everything.”

“You do not know what I am saying.”

“Mîrwen, you are my wife,” I began. “Of course I do not know what you are saying.”

“I never thought they existed,” she said. “I thought they were tales told by my mother to explain the creation of the world.”

“So they exist,” I said, “We can move on to other matters.”

“What would their children be,” she asked ignoring me.

“I would think they would be small at first, then grow as any other child. What does it matter?”

She stood up and came to me.

“Why does this not bother you, Orothôn?”

I looked at the wonder in her eyes.

“You want to know why it does not bother me,” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Because I do not care.”

She frowned at me and I smiled at her.

“Be happy for him,” I said. “The nature of being has little to do with how we love; much less with whom.”

“I suppose you are right,” she whispered.

“Of course I am right,” I answered, embracing her.

“There is always a first time for everything,” she said.

**** **** **** ****

We were alone together—lying in our bed holding one another for the first time within the walls fo a palace. Oropher was no longer sleeping at the end of our bed to hear his parents wisher their love to one another.

As we lay, our chamber doors flew open startling us. It was Êlengolas and Valdôr.

“Orothôn! Mîrwen!”

“Valdôr, what is this madness,” I asked.

“Celebriel is about to give birth,” he answered.

“If you would be so kind,” Mîrwen said.

“Oh,” Êlengolas said. “Of course.”

They stepped out of the room. She turned to me and kissed me.

“I will see you later,” she said. “We have much to talk about.”

She got out of bed and covers herself with her robe and rang for the servants. They came quick and left quicker. Mîrwen smiled at me and left to perform her duties. I rose from our bed and walked over to our window to watch the falls. The doors opened and Êlengolas entered alone.

“You could have spared me the lurid details,” he said ringing the servants. He grabbed my robe and threw it over my shoulders.

“I apologize, but you do realize this is my bedchamber?”

“We are expected in an audience with King Thingol.”

Suddenly, several elves entered and dressed me in white and silver chain. When they were done, they dispersed.

“What is this,” I asked.

“That is what will protect you in battle if it comes to it. Come, now.”

I started to feel afraid for the first time in my life. By the time we reached the throne room, it was filled with elves. Among them were Valdôr, Fineär, Galadhon, Galathil, and Denethor. Elmo stood by the side of the throne awaiting the king. When he arrived, all fell quiet.

“Darkness surrounds us,” Thingol began. “It wishes to destroy this world and all within it. We must protect all that is good and pure; as the first-born of Eru Ilúvatar, we must prevail. Go and make ready for that day—for it will come.”

At the command of the guard, we followed our masters out of the palace, across the bridge and upon the training field. As we learned many techniques, I came to prefer the bow to the sword. Êlengolas would master everything and seem to delight in being a quick study.

Valdôr seemed overwhelmed though he managed to form a more strategic way to fight; one that depended more on his wits and less on hand-to-hand combat. After our first lesson, I looked forward to the next.

Upon our return to the palace, there was excitement in the air. Mîrwen came to me. She looked at me in horror.

“What is the matter,” I asked.

“You are dressed for war,” she answered.

“Not yet,” I assured her. “Tell me, what has everyone running about?”

“Celebriel has given birth to a son,” she said flatly.

“That is wonderful. What is he called?”

“Celeborn,” she said. “His name is Celeborn.”

With that, she turned and walked away. I knew the thought of me going to fight in a war had stolen from her any joy she might have had. As the hall emptied, I noted Oropher with Eldôr, Nimeithel and another elfling. She was an unusually beautiful child with the fairest of skin and the darkest of hair.

“Orothôn,” I heard Denethor say. “Did you hear of Galadhon’s son?”

“Yes,” I said. “Who is that elfling with Oropher?”

“That is the daughter of Thingol and Melian. Her name is Lúthien. Come. Time to get out of this chain.”

I followed him away but I could not get that name out of my mind—Lúthien.–TKWR Trilogy Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen by Jaynaé Marie Miller 11-11-2018.

Orothôn has a run-in with Daeron; Orothôn and Mîrwen have an argument and the next day, Orothôn learns he has to prepare for war. On his way back home, he catches a glimpse of one of his new playmates; an unusually beautiful elfling named Lúthien.

Newsfeed #79 December 9, 2016 (9 Ringarë)

MILESTONE: The Saga of Thranduil Marks 500 pages!

In all of the craziness that seems to take away from writing (Thranduil gets lots of attention these days and trying to get to do or say much has become a chore rather than my favorite activity. But after deciding to kick old Book III to the curb and give Legolas his time (for a reason), Tonight, Book II: The Saga of Thranduil has made it to the 500 page milestone. That was no easy feat (and by no means close to the end of the entire book). Though, December 26 will mark the one year anniversary of the book going up on a blog, and starting a Facebook Page, to get to 500 pages in about one year and 5 months is miraculous–especially when you realize I had to learn four Tolkien languages (still am) and the intimate history of Middle-Earth (still am) and adding about 184 new characters (140+ are elves).

Book II, in it’s new version is about 421 pages long. With the renamed “Extended Version” (The Love of Thranduil and Êlúriel: http://alttkwrtrilogyend.tumblr.com), it is exactly 500 pages.

At this time, I can’t say how long Book II will end up nor do I know how much of the Extended version may end up in the ACTUAL original version. That is for fans to decide, I think. But for now, chances are, it will either be 500 in its original version or relatively close and well over 600 with the edition of the extended version. This is incredible as Book I is estimated to close in size to the original first book length of 360 (at the least). Book III: The Last Tale of Legolas Lasgalen will more than likely be as long as 300-360. In the end, The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy will be another Middle-Earth doorstop–close to the length of that lovely 50th Anniversary “The Lord of the Rings*” (1138p).

*This is the page count not including the Appendix. The estimated length of The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy does not include its appendix, either.

Book II reaches 500 pages..☺️ Congratulation Thranduil.

Newsfeed #73 October 4, 2016 (4 Narquelië)

Farewell to Thranduil? Not yet and probably not for a long time.

We are in Book III and Thranduil is about to fight his last battle he will ever fight in Middle Earth. So, is this were we part company? Not yet. In fact, I have some news for the “readers” of this incredibly long story that is rather, uh….detailed.

Thranduil is going to be here for awhile. I’m editing right now (if you haven’t noticed, you’re reading the first drafts of everything). Seems I am being watched to some degree on this book by quite a few people that want to see what I have done. I realized today while having to introduce a notebook and a writing utensil to write down characters from the 10+ pages of the first draft of the Appendix so I know if I put them in the right place.

The best part of this–other than the endless list of followers on Twitter that are in the book business (Thranduil had another writing website invite)–is the fact that at even at the end of writing the entire book, it will not be the last of Thranduil on Tumblr. Right now, I am about 443 (est.) pages in length and that just includes what I have now with just the story. Book II is now preparing to go out again–to experts that want to see what I have done. He is now considered (by definition) an epic story. When the story is complete, I hope that it will be made official.

The year it took to finish Book II was just the beginning of a longer and quite unexpected journey that original thought. If you liked Book II (http://tkwrtrilogy.tumblr.com), then it you know that there is an Alternate Ending (http://alttkwrtrilogyend.tumblr.com) and Thranduil’s story takes a slightly different turn. Then there is Legolas’ part of the story (http://trenarnolegolaslasgalen.tumblr.com).

Thranduil isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.–J.

No, Thranduil is not going anywhere for awhile. ☺️

Newsfeed #72 September 29, 2016 (29 Yavannië)

The Making of The Woodland Realm: The “Saga” of Thranduil

For those who wonder how anyone on this planet that created a world within a world out of so little actual information yet determined to make it work as if it were part of real “Middle Earth”, go to The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm History: http://tkwrtrilogyhistory.tumblr.com.

Unlike The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Legends (http://tkwrtlegends.tumblr.com) that is the “history” of the actual Woodland Realm inside the book, The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm History goes inside Tolkien and Thranduil–more actual history of the creation of the book.

This happened when The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy began to catch the attention of Scotland–and by “Scotland”, I mean the actual country. Somehow, Thranduil found his way into the hearts of Scotland alongside Outlander (could be on of his followers is a cast member of the show–Scott Kyle) or that Thranduil is now “fan-sharing” with the Show and the Book (don’t ask, this gets even weirder as the days go by).

Meanwhile, stateside, Thranduil is now working to send things (as in Book II: The Saga of Thranduil) to the founding family of the Mythopoeic Society. The surviving family of Glen Goodknight has taken interest in Thranduil. I can confirm 100% they are interested–I know. I speak with them often (like tonight actually).

The only annoying thing to me is finding time to write Book III (and soon Book I will peel back the Silmarillion and Thranduil’s ancestors like an onion–the word of Celeborn’s relation to Thranduil is eluded to in Book III, but will is revealed in Book I). Interestingly, that is true, so I didn’t make it up–I just have explain what Tolkien left vague (by his son’s own admission). I love the story–I have to make myself go to sleep or I’ll work on it all night–and I did the other night while sick, yes because illness cannot keep me from this story. I worked so long, I learned more Quenya that an normal person should be allowed to know.

So after a year, I finished Book II. In two months since that day, Thranduil has managed to enchant one of the oldest Tolkien literary society in America and an entire country of Scotland. Let no one say Thranduil is not a noble elf. He’s an elf on a mission to single handedly drag his kingdom from beneath a mountain and into the light. He will do it like only Thranduil can.

He will do it swiftly without messing up his hair or his clothes.

Oh Thrands. Oh, Thrandy. You are divine--and surpassed his number of followers on Book II on Tumblr on Twitter. He is loved by an entire tourism board of Scotland. He is mesmerizing literary societies, Tolkien experts, producers, publishers, screenwriters, actors, an international comic book company, a film studio and even musicians and artists. What will he do next? I mean other than getting 20 mentions in the past few hours. He's on a roll. But he will remain focused. Facebook got fixed while I chatted with more Goodknights. This is truly Thranduil's time to shine.

Chapter I: A Love Beyond Time (Pt. I)

“Legolas was gone—the son Êlúriel had given me and I tried desperately to protect from the world was now in that world vowing to save it from the shadow that had returned. I spent the days after his departure tortured with thoughts of losing him in many ways. It was not until Tarthôn and Aruilos returned from Rivendell safely did I find peace.

As I stood with Ëariâth waiting for Tarthôn with their daughter, Aradúlin, I began to notice how time had passed—Aradúlin had become a strikingly beautiful elven maiden with long deep golden red hair and grey eyes. She had been wed to Elendôr not long after his brother Êlenuil had wed Súlelenth and was the mother of a son named Aranduil—named for me and his great-grandfather Elranduil.

My household had grown but none would come from me. Legolas had left Mîráre behind and she became so distraught, her sister Ninyáre could not console her. In sadness, she left Mirkwood with her mother, Tárwen for Mithlond. As I was my father’s only heir, Legolas was mine but I knew he would never sit on the throne.

“Have you seen Súlelenth,” Aradúlin asked. “I have not seen her for two days, nor have I seen Êlenuil. What do I tell Nenduîl and Tárimë?”

“They went to see her family in Dale,” Ëariâth answered. “They should return before too long. They have Aranduil to keep them company.”

I said nothing—for Êlenuil and Súlelenth had gotten my blessing to leave. Ardôr wanted them to stay, but kept his objections to himself. I knew Elranduil had spoken to him as he had grown fond of Súlelenth as she reminded both of us of Êlúriel.

When we saw Tarthôn and Aruilos riding toward us with Elenadar and Elenatar, the mood brightened. As stable hands came for the horses, his wife and daughter met Tarthôn. Aruilos approached me and bowed.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “All is well. Elrond sends his gratitude.”

“How was it there,” I asked. “Was it as beautiful as they say?”

“Very much so,” he said. “We were fortunate to have met Elrohir and Elladan. You can imagine the trouble with having Elenadar and Elenadar present. I would think having two sets of twins did not sit well with Erestor or Lindir.”

“Well, then,” I said smiling. “It was best they left their sons with us. Four pairs would have driven them mad. Nimlos waits for you in the study.”

He smiled and bowed as he made his way into the palace with his sister and mother. Tarthôn came to me quietly and stood before me, looking down.

“What is the matter, Tarthôn,” I asked. “Do you miss Legolas already?”

“I do,” he said. “But I worry how you will do without him here, Ada.”

“I will do as well as I can,” I said. “But you are still here and we will both greet him together when he returns.”

He looked up and smiled. Even now, so many years after he was left in my care, he felt I did not love him as much as Legolas. Unlike Orísil, he never quite felt a part of the family.

“Tarthôn,” I began. “Did you by chance see Elrond’s daughter while you were there?”

“Yes,” he answered. “As beautiful as it has been said. She is very much taken with Aragorn. I did not see him until the day we were to leave. There had come another man and one they call Gandalf and one of the dwarves that had come here before.”

We started into the palace through the gates. I was curious about the dwarves—I remembered the ones I had met after the battle of Dale and had wondered about them.

“Tell me more,” I said. “I am intrigued.”

“I believe his name was Glóin,” he said. “I recall he was there with his son Gimli. But there was a rather old creature there. He was there when we had arrived. He seemed rather fond of looking at Legolas from a distance as to have known him.”

When we entered my study, the entire council was in attendance.

“Aruilos, what was the name of that creature,” Tarthôn asked. “I seemed to have forgotten.”

“You mean the Hobbit,” he answered. “His name was Bilbo Baggins from the Shire.”

I stopped and found myself smiling—thinking about my little friend. To know he was still alive made me happy, though I wondered why he was so far from his home.

“As long as Legolas made it safely to Rivendell,” Fëaluin said. “That is what matters.”

“Yes, it is,” Ardôr said sternly. “I am happy for my dear cousin, Fëaluin. But it has been two days and I have not heard from my son. Perhaps we should have sent with him some protection. He is, after all, a Prince of the Realm.”

“You could have gone with him,” Eldôr said. “Or sent Elendôr along with him. The distance is not far.”

“But he is among Men,” Ardôr growled. “I am sure they would do a great deal more to my son than would the Elves in Rivendell.”

“We have never had issue with Dale or Esgaroth,” Elranduil said. “You are making far too much of this.”

“He is my son, Ada,” he said. “I have every right to make anything of this that I please. Had you not let that girl marry my son, he would be here.”

“How do you know this,” I asked. “You cannot keep him from loving whom he will. As it is, she is not entirely of Men. What little of her that is elven I would think even you would approve.”

“It is very little,” he said. “Do not think I do not remember my Queen. I was young, but I remember her. What little elven my son’s wife has inherited from our Queen and your wife is far too little for me to approve.”

I could see Nimlos growing angry.

“Nimlos,” Fëaluin said, touching his arm. “Not here.”

Eldôr and Elranduil were embarrassed and felt ashamed. I knew they thought I would do something reprehensible.

“That was cruel of you to say, Brother,” Orísil whispered.

I walked slowly toward Ardôr. When I was before him, he seemed defiant though I knew he was frightened.

“Do not ever speak of my wife or her family in that manner in my presence ever again,” I said calmly. “What remains of your Queen and my wife is in this room and part of this family. Your words dishonor her and this kingdom. Do not think I will not hesitate to free you from this world and dispatch you quickly to the Halls of Mandos and think of you no more.”

I walked out of the room as I felt my own anger rising. In the hall is where I saw Êlenuil and Súlelenth approaching. She smiled at me but I could see she was not well.

“Súlelenth, you do not look well,” I said.

“He is right,” Êlenuil said, touching her face. “You are rather warm.”

“I am fine, Êlenuil,” she said. “I want to see my children.”

Those were the last words she would say outside of her chambers. She collapsed into Êlenuil’s arms.

“Súlelenth,” he cried loudly, bringing everyone out of the study.

“Send for Nenloth and Nimlúin,” Fëaluin said. “Nimlos, help Êlenuil take her to her room. Elranduil, find Linurial. She is with Ardúin.”

I could not move—I felt all the pain I had for Êlúriel return to me as I watched Súlelenth taken away.

“Do not worry, Thranduil,” Elranduil said. “Perhaps she is just be exhausted from traveling.”

“Send for her family,” Eldôr told Elendôr. “Take your brother with you.”

“And Elenadar and Elenatar,” Fëaluin added. “Night is falling and you will need to return before sunrise.”

“I will see to Nenduîl and Tárimë,” Orísil said. He turned to Ardôr. “You should do as much, Brother. Should something happen to their mother, your words will not be forgotten by those that heard them.”

Ardôr looked at me then slowly followed Orísil and Tarthôn away. I left for my chambers—I feared what I might learn of Súlelenth’s condition. I could not bear to think of losing any more of Êlúriel than I had. Legolas was gone and now his cousin—his mortal cousin he had grown to love—would be taken from us. Perhaps this time my grief would be heard and I would be taken with her.

I lay on my bed looking at the ceiling above. What seemed to me a lifetime was no more than a few hours when my chamber doors opened and Nenduîl and Tárimë stood beside me. They were in their night clothes—still in their youth but slightly taller than before.

“We came to see you,” Tárimë said. “Nana said you were not well.”

“Your mother is well,” I asked, sitting. “She is not ill?”

“She is ill,” Nenduîl said climbing into bed and sitting on one side of me as his sister sat on the other. “She told us to come see you. She said you were sad.”

“I am worried about your mother,” I said.

“Do you have a mother,” Tárimë said, curling up next to me.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “She is far away right now.”

“Do you miss her,” Nenduîl asked. “I will miss my Nana.”

“Yes, I miss my mother,” I said thinking about her. “She was the Queen of Eryn Galen. She was the most beautiful Queen in all of Arda.”

“Nana says so,” Tárimë said yawning. “She says her mother saw her once with her favorite cousin.”

“Longest hair as white as snow,” Nenduîl said, laying his head down on my lap. “Almost to the ground.”

“Yes, it was,” I said. “Your mother told you this?”

“Yes,” Tárimë said sleepily. “Her mother told her when she was a child.”

“She told her all about the Queen,” Nenduîl said, yawning.

“Queen Nimeithel,” I said softly. “My mother.”

“Queen Êlúriel,” Tárimë said. “Queen Êlúriel, too.”

“You were named for her, Tárimë,” Nenduîl said. “I was named for you.”

“I do not understand,” I said as tears had begun to fall.

“I am Tárimë Silme,” Tárimë said falling asleep. “He is Nenduîl Nárisil.”

“Starlight and Fire Moon,” Nenduîl said and drifted off to sleep with his sister.

Once I knew they were sleeping soundly, I pulled away from them gently and tucked them in. I knew that Êlúriel had come back to me.”–Excerpt from TKWR:BIII To Eryn Lasgalen by J.M.Miller 7-17-16

Chapter I: A Love Beyond Time. Book III of The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy. Thranduil is happy Legolas made it to Rivendell safely. He confronts Ardôr, son of Elranduil over words he said about Súlelenth. She falls ill and her children, Nenduîl and Tárimë comfort him with a shocking revelation. They were named after him and Êlúriel--the girl is Tárimë Silme (Starlight) and the boy is Nenduîl Nárisil (Fire Moon).

Chapter XX: Prelude to War (Pt. II)

“His name was Thorin Oakenshield. I knew his name long before I saw his face. When it came before me, the circumstance would take my kingdom into war once more.

Autumn had come and through thickets of thorns streams of sunlight illuminated the colors of the season. A lull had fallen softer than a whisper as the glamhoth and spiders kept to themselves. Few were the moments when we were not at war within our own kingdom since evil had made its home on the southern borders.

The day had begun as a surprise—for I found myself lying in my bed for the first time since I lost Êlúriel. How I longed for her to lie next to me again. Memories of her felt like the blade of a sword driven through my heart. Each time I wanted to fall upon that blade and be laid to rest beside her. Somehow, she must have known these thoughts because they were always interrupted.

There came a knock at my chamber doors disrupting my melancholy.

“Enter,” I said. 

I thought it would be Fëaluin or servants come to dress me for the day. I was wrong, as it was Legolas. I sat straight up as he entered and sat on the side of the bed.

“Ada,” he said quietly. “I have not seen you in this bed since Nana died.”

“True,” I answered. “I must have forgotten myself last evening.”

The kingdom was in much celebration for the seasons but for Legolas’ conception and my 2900 years upon the throne. Days of endless happiness spread through the shadows bringing light to us once more. I found it hard to smile knowing my Êlúriel could not be with me.

“Have you seen Elendôr,” he asked. “He is growing up well. Ardôr and Ninyáre seem very happy.”

“Not since his birth, Legolas. I have been rather occupied with my duties. What is it that you are not saying?”

“Nothing, Ada.”

“Legolas, what is it?”

He turned at looked at me—his face very much like his mother’s when in deep thought.

“Elranduil speaks of when you were my age,” he began. “He said that your father and mother sought for you a suitable wife. Why have you not done the same with me?”

“You wish me to parade maidens before you and force you to choose a wife among them,” I asked surprised. “I chose your mother with my heart, and I have allowed the other princes of this realm to do the same.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “I know.”

“I thought you well matched with Mîráre. Is there something amiss?”

“No, Ada. But she knows me and knows I long for something I cannot explain. I thought you may wish to keep me from it.” 

I motioned for Legolas to turn as I rose from my bed and covered myself. I turned and looked at my son curiously. He had seemed rather distant for a while—even from Tarthôn. 

“You wish me to keep you from whatever you cannot explain,” I said. “If I knew what that was, it would be somewhat easier to know how to do so. I hardly think courting perspective wives is the answer especially when I know how you feel about Mîráre.”

Another knock came to my doors.

“Enter,” I said, still puzzled by my son’s behavior. This time the servants came with Fëaluin and Eldôr.

“The forest awakens,” Eldôr said.

I noticed Legolas turn from melancholy to concerned and prepared to fight.

“More orcs,” I asked. “I suppose the peace would not last long.”

“No,” Fëaluin said. “Something quite different. There are subjects claiming to see small people roaming around as if the seek something.”

“Small people,” Legolas asked. “Why would an elf fear small people?”

“For a few days now they seem to appear from the shadows,” Eldôr said. “One said they saw one take aim at a white stag. I suppose it would be for food if one were desperate enough.”

 Legolas began toward the door quickly.

“Legolas, stay,” I said. “Fëaluin, have Nînuir send someone to find these small people. They sound surprisingly like dwarves to me and we have not seen any for sometime. I would think they were all but driven from Khazâd-dûm by now or lost to time.”

“Very well,” he answered as Legolas sat down on the bed anxiously.

They left as my servants began to dress me. From my mirror, I could see my son appear lost again.

“Legolas,” I began slowly. “I want nothing more than your happiness, but I cannot give to you what you must find for yourself. Your mother once said that she saw great things for you. She said you would do great things. I am afraid I cannot tell you what they are and if she were here, neither would she.”

“Why would she not tell me,” he asked as the servants finished their duties and left us alone.

“I am afraid, Legolas, your mother was rather peculiar at times.”

I smiled remembering things she would say that would drive me to madness or laughter. I found myself feeling as though she were there, her arms around me and her eyes upon me. 

“Peculiar,” Legolas asked smiling. “How so?”

 “I do not think there any words I could find to explain her. There was no other elven maiden in all of Arda as your mother. To have loved her was a privilege and to be loved by her was an honor. There was no greater love than ours.”

Legolas smiled at me. He looked painfully like his mother—beautiful and near perfect in my eyes. He stood before me—this fully grown elf that I once held as a newborn. I wondered if this is what his mother would see in her visions of him. Then I remembered the vision I had during the War of the Last Alliance. I was looking at the face in that vision and I knew she had seen the same.

“Come, son,” I said. “Take me to see Elendôr.”

“Yes, Ada.”

As we walked into the hall, Elranduil approached me.

“Someone awaits an audience with you, Thranduil,” he said sternly. “Come.”

Bewildered, I followed him as Legolas remained where he stood with a look of confusion on his face. When I entered my throne room, it was empty save a few guards that came to attention as I walked toward my throne and took my place. Elranduil took his place beside Nimlos and their sons Ardôr and Aruilos. Soon, two guards brought before me a ragged, filthy and pathetic creature I recognized to be a dwarf on site. He glanced at me with little acknowledgement.

“Do you know where you are,” I asked.

 “I know what in what kingdom I was found,” he said. “Mirkwood, is it not? Home of the Woodland Elves ruled by the Elven King. I do believe you are that king.”

“Yes, I am. And these are my halls. The Hall of Thranduil, though that name is not spoken beyond these borders. And what is it they call you?”

“I am Thorin Oakenshield,” he said finally standing straight. “Son of Thráin son of Thrór and the heir of Erebor.”

I stood up and walked toward him. I remembered my time with his ancestor centuries before. The resemblance was there though somewhat lackluster.

“Who brought him to me, Nimlos,” I asked.

“They whom stand before you,” he answered.

I looked back at Thorin. He seemed weary but indignant.

“Did they harm you,” I asked.

 “No,” he said. “But neither were they kind.”

 I gave them a look of rebuke and they bowed.

“Go,” I said. “And as for you, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, I have many questions for you and you will answer. Do you know what fate befell one called Stíahn, son of Thekker come to us from Ered Luin some time ago? I would assume it was not a good one. How you managed to come this far alive fascinates me. Many of your people have traversed through this kingdom and every one showed themselves to be of good intention—until now. You will answer my questions or my dungeons will be your fate. Thranduil Tárisil Oropherion aimênu, Thorin Oakenshield.”

He was defiant and repeated himself again and again. I had pity for him, but little patience. I had him taken away and immediately fed for I wished to speak to him later. Once he was gone, Legolas, Orísil and Tarthôn came to us.

“Where were you, Orísil,” Elranduil asked.

“Many pardons, Ada,” he said. “It was Êleneth. My daughter is rather headstrong and wandered out of the palace.”

“Well, that is what happens when your wife is the daughter of Aramoth,” he said. “Headstrong offspring.”

“She gets from my sister, Orísil,” Nimlos said. “Aramoth has nothing to do with it, shocking as it sounds.”

As we laughed Nînuir, Elmîr and Aradin approached us with several more dwarves.

“What is this,” I asked. “More of them?”

“Ada,” Legolas whispered softly. Like his mother, always trying to keep me calm.

 “Yes,” Elmîr said. “Anírar mann, pedar enni.”

“The silence is broken, Your Majesty,” Nînuir said. “The hunt, I am afraid must begin once more. Their presence has awaken the spiders once more.”

Though there stood one before me I would see again tried to reason with me, I heard none of it. I would once more send my sons and my people out into that wretched place to fight for our lives. As they were taken, I noticed two young ones among them. I paused for a moment in thought.

“What are you thinking, Thranduil,” Nimlos asked.

“I was just wondering about the younger of them. Two there are.”

“Yes, so there are.”

“I was just wondering if they were the sons of Stíahn,” I said. “If memory serves me, I believe he said he had two sons. Just a thought, no more.”

 I watched them until they disappeared from view thinking about them—never knowing they would one day suffer the fate of their father.”–Excerpt from TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil by J.M.Miller 6-30-16

This was the hardest to do--to write within a story already told with originality. It is the pivotal make or break for this story--otherwise 321 pages would have been in vain. Thranduil meets Thorin Oakenshield again for the first time. He runs into Balin--unnamed until later--and two younger dwarves he wonders about, remembering Stíahn. Questions about the party crashing are answered--if you were reading, you would know. Legolas was conceived exactly 2900 years before on the day Thranduil was crowned King of Eryn Galen. 6 more excerpts left to go. Who else will come into Mirkwood before all is said and done and will show up next?