Jaynaé Marie

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?