Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net)

Title: Rebirth (#1618)
Author: Thuriniel
Chapters: 3

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Femme Fatale
Description: The challenges faced by an elf when she returns from Mandos. *Complete*
Published: 17 Feb 2005
Updated: 22 Mar 2005
Warnings: Death; AU
Type: Romance
Characters: Thranduil; OFC


Chapter 1 - Awakening

I know that it was extremely rare for Elves to return from Mandos … but I also know that this is fanfiction and so I’m allowed to ask the question “what if …?”.

This fiction deals with the rebirth of Thranduil’s wife and it consists of three chapters. Even though I have used the universe I created in “The Bond” as the background for this writing, “Rebirth” stands quite well on its own and I highly doubt that any new readers would have any problems following along.

I cannot begin to thank enough Panneth, my beta reader, for all the work she’s put into this. I would also be greatly unappreciative if I didn’t also thank JanesofLondon for providing me with the inspiration to write and for nagging enough about it for me to finally do it.

This is for you Jane.

*

Chapter 1: Awakening

“I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems, now to open my eyes to everything …” Evanescence

Darkness veiled her senses. Moving through a tangled web of forgotten dreams, her spirit fought to break through the mists. Her heart was already beating and her fëa seeped into the shell that would house her. Suddenly instinct took over. She gasped and readily took in her first big gulps of air, her lungs welcoming the purity of the forest. The heavy darkness and everything that preceded it faded quickly into a distant memory.

Slowly, her awareness of the world awoke. Soft moss was under her and the warm light of the sun played on her naked back. Her eyes were still closed, but her other senses were roused and beginning to register the world around her. She was indeed alive. Her sense of smell noted the rich pungency of the earth and the clean air of the early morning. She dug her fingers into the soil, proving to herself that she could move and feel the wetness of the damp earth crawling under her fingernails. The elleth took pleasure in the sensation. Texture, warmth, shape, substance . . . that which she had not experienced in ages.

For many days she had come in and out of consciousness as her body was modeled, perfected and made whole, so that it would be able to shelter life. Unseen powers had woven matter and created the shell where her immortal fëa would reside; a body of flesh and bone, exactly akin to the one she had left behind the day her spirit departed from Arda. After days of agony and trials, her fëa was exhausted. She had the knowledge deep inside her that she had chosen this path, but she soon realized she didn’t know where her choice would take her.

She opened her eyes slowly, afraid yet eager to know and see for herself that she lived. The color of the world around her assaulted her senses. A verdant haven surrounded her and she watched with rapt attention without lifting her head. The spear shaped leaves of the grass tickled her cheeks and the soft mounds of moss were tinted in the most vibrant shade of emerald. Slowly, covering her still sensitive eyes with her forearm, she turned around.

Sunlight fell full on her. It felt warm and comforting against the wetness of the dew that had gathered on her face during the night. Cautiously she lifted her arm slightly and she stole a timid glance into the living world. There was blue sky and towering trees looming around her. There were birds flying, clouds lazily floating and insects buzzing. There were small woodland flowers speckling the grass close by. It was spring and the woods were shining at their brightest. She was enthralled.

Wanting to see more, she lifted her head and then her torso by planting her elbows on the ground. The effort sent her head spinning and she fell back, panting from the exertion. She waited and then tried again. This time she was able to sit up, but the dizziness overtook her once more. Her muscles resented the movement. Her new body needed time to adjust to being used. She continued trying until finally, by midmorning, she rose and stood proudly in the middle of the small clearing.

Not paying any attention to her shaking legs threatening to collapse under her, the elleth stared around from her new vantage point. She didn’t recognize the place, although the woods seemed familiar enough. She didn’t remember anything. Glimpses of her previous life assaulted her in waves, but the images were too fast, too entangled one with the other for her to make sense of them. She didn’t even know her name.

She heard the river behind her. The music of the water falling upon rocks and rolling down the riverbed should’ve been soothing to her new ears, but instead it filled her with dread. Determined, she turned her back to the waters and began pacing slowly toward the thick of the forest.

For many hours the elleth walked, sometimes even crawled. Even though her mind refused to give her any information as to where to go, instinct seemed to guide her. Her steps took her north. She followed the path of the river, guiding herself by the sound of the water. And all through her journey, her eyes darted to the high of the trees in hope of finding a talan.

As the day progressed, her hopes of finding someone to help her dwindled. She took some wild berries as nourishment, but with the coming of the night she truly began to worry. With aching muscles she climbed up a tree and in between the great branches she found herself a place to spend the night. The thought of wild beasts and night-predators entered her mind. Her sleep was light and full of strange dreams and forgotten nightmares. It wasn’t until dawn that she fell into a tired stupor.

*

The light of Anor warmed the elleth’s body and she moved her face toward it, wanting to feel the rays on her semblance. But her bliss didn’t last long. The distinct feeling of not being alone sent a rush of fear through her veins. Her eyes darted open and her body tensed. Before she even realized what she was doing she was on all fours, like a feline ready to attack.

Her instincts had not been wrong. An elf dressed in green and brown now shared the branch with her. He was crouched, staring at her caught between curiosity and caution. He was armed, but his weapons were sheathed and his expression was kind. He did not seem to present any type of threat.

“Nach edhel. Man eneth lîn? [You are elf. What is your name?]” He asked.

The elleth lost some of her defensiveness, but she didn’t let her guard down. She didn’t reply and the elf simply stared at her. She could tell that he was measuring her. She imagined she presented quite a sight; naked, with bleeding knees, and just about to fight him if he provoked her. The scout pursed his lips for a moment and then smiled knowingly. From his gear he produced a piece of bread and offered it to the elleth.

The scout saw that her eyes lost the hardness and the panic he had seen in them a few moments earlier. He also saw the hunger haunting her and he nodded, encouraging her to take the nourishment. She reached with her hand, but vacillated. Again, he nodded, this time moving closer to her. Hunger won the fight and with one quick dart of her hand, the elleth grabbed the morsel. He watched her devour the small loaf as if it had been a most delicious piece of food. When she was done, he offered her his water bag, which she basically emptied in a few long swallows. When she was done, she gave him back the bag and muttered,

“Hannon le [Thank you].”

He nodded and replaced his water bag to his gear. He then spoke,

“My name is Lathron. I am friend, no foe; a scout in the borders of the Kingdom. I have had strange encounters with many creatures, but this one is probably the strangest by far. Tell me, what is your name and where do you come from?”

He stared at the elleth, waiting for an answer. He had climbed the tree early in the morning, ready to take his post, when he had found her. She looked exhausted and he wondered if she had been part of a traveling party and been lost somehow. Her nakedness and the scratches in her body, however, did little to support that theory. He doubted she would tell him anything. Her deep blue eyes were wide and held no deception, but she was obviously confused. She was now sitting close to the trunk, with her long legs tucked under her chin and cradled protectively by her arms. Her hands were shaking and Lathron was uncertain if it were because of fear or fatigue. When he was giving up hope that she would answer, he heard her voice,

“I do not remember my name. I have no memory of my past. I woke up by the riverside and arrived here last night. I wish I could tell you more.”

Lathron was far from satisfied with her answer, but he felt that she was telling the truth.

“Then I shall call you Siriel until you remember who you are,” he said.

He then took off his cloak and offered it to her. She covered herself with it as well as she could. When she was done, he rose and took her hand, helping her off the branch. Together, they made for the talan where the scouts resided.

*

The elleth laid on the thick branch of an oak tree. Summertime was breaking in the woodlands. For two months the elleth had lived with the scouts in the borders of Eryn Lasgalen. She had worn their clothing and eaten their food. They asked few questions and silently accepted her among them. Unfortunately, she felt that her time with them was coming to a close.

The gentle breeze rustled through the lively foliage and rays of sunlight caressed her face. She looked at the playful rays stealing flashes of gold from the green of the leaves. Following the different paths of the light, she found herself remembering her dreams of late.

At first it had been challenging to even wish for rest; her dreams brought her none. She would remain awake until dawn trying to make sense of what she had witnessed while resting. They were a collection of different images, faces and places she didn’t know, but somehow recognized.

But in the past week one face had appeared more and more often. It had become more defined as she dreamed of him night after night. The nightmares slowly left her and she often found herself detaching from the living world only to step into the world of dreams and try to unlock the mysteries behind the icy blue eyes that plagued her sleep.

The elleth sighed. She raised her hands and repeated the same moves she had been witness to in her many dreams. Her fingers gripped an imaginary crown of leaves and woodland flowers and placed it around the head of the blond elf who had visited her dreams of late. His eyes stared directly at hers holding her captivated. She saw something there that she hadn’t realized until now. There was a love that went beyond life and death. He was bound to her. He was her mate.

The image disappeared. Her fingers moved pass rays of sunshine, trying to weave the fragments of a forgotten life. Then suddenly, as if it were a whisper breezing past her mind, she heard a single word.

Elvenking.

The elleth didn’t breath. Elvenking. The Elvenking, ruler of the Wood-elves of Greenwood the Great. Thranduil Oropherion. The knowledge came to her in a rush, and she felt her heart beating so fast she thought it would leave her body. She knew the woods were no longer the Greenwood, for the scouts she lived with called the Woodland Realms Eryn Lasgalen.

But the ruler remained. She had heard his name from Lathron. The Elvenking. Thranduil.

The elleth said the name to herself out loud. It didn’t sound strange or foreign. Her lips had spoken his name before. She could not be wrong. She rose and climbing eagerly down the tree she left to find the elves that had taken her in.

*

“The woods are dangerous. They are cleansed of yrc, but you must be cautious. Wild beasts still roam in our realm.”

“Then give me a weapon. I can defend myself.” The elleth stared into Lathron’s eyes. She could tell he was wary of letting her go on her own, but she was determined to make this journey on her own. He had tried to keep her with him until his assignment was over and the next shift arrived. Then, he had told her, he would escort her to the main dwelling and help her look for her family.

Resigned to letting her go, the scout presented her with a bow. She took it, but it felt foreign in her hands. Her eyes fixed themselves on a dusty spear left forgotten in the corner of the main talan. She walked to it and grabbed it. The weight felt right in her hand and she lifted it up over her shoulder, testing the weapon. She heard Lathron’s voice behind her,

“That is an uncommon weapon of choice.”

The elleth turned to look at him startled. A forgotten memory suddenly flooded her. The wooden walls of the talan surrounding her disappeared, and were replaced by a wide expanse. A circle, a training field. She heard a voice close to her, a different voice, saying the same words Lathron had just said,

“That is an uncommon weapon of choice.”

The elleth turned to face the speaker and found herself face to face with the semblance that she had seen in her dreams. She heard herself say,

“So says my Father. And I shall give you the same answer. If Gil-galad had Aeglos, who is to say I cannot have Bregol?”

There was a bout of laughter coming from him and she realized she was smiling as well. It had been their first meeting, she could tell from the thrill and the anticipation she felt running through her veins. She could also remember now what happened afterwards; he asked her to accompany him to a ball. She had eagerly accepted.

“Siriel? Siriel, are you well?”

The training field disappeared among a gentle mist, and was replaced by the walls of the talan and the smell of the forest. The elleth turned to look at Lathron. He looked concerned. Her trances had happened more often as she remembered and they had been the source of much talking and speculating among the scouts.

Sad that she couldn’t recall more details of that encounter, the elleth reassured the scout that she was well and grabbed her cloak. In a matter of moments she had everything she needed for the journey. It might take her more than two weeks to arrive at the Palace on foot, but she was determined to accomplish the feat. She held the spear in her hand and lightly put her free hand on Lathron‘s shoulder just as she was about to leave.

“I thank you for everything,” she said. “I shall not forget your kindness.”

The ellon nodded and bowed his head. Then he retrieved her hand from his shoulder and brought it to his lips, kissing her lightly.

“May the Valar look over you and guide you to find what you search, Siriel.”

*

The journey went as anticipated. She found more scouts as she approached the heart of the Kingdom and every time she encountered someone she looked into their eyes, striving to find any trace of recognition. No one seemed to know her. In the stretches she traveled alone, she would spend her nights high up in the trees, singing to the Moon songs she didn’t realize she knew. Slowly, her memories trickled back into her mind, but she sensed they were but small drops of what she had yet to remember.

As the distance between the Palace and herself decreased, the elleth found herself becoming more anxious. She would travel at night despite the dangers, walking in paths of moonlight to rest her tired mind. Before long, the morning arrived when she stood in front of the closed gates of the great Caves. She gripped her spear, using it in the fashion of a cane, and with her free hand, she pulled down the hood of her cloak.

There were some soldiers keeping guard on top of the massive walls. She heard their suspicious voices,

“Who goes there?”

She paid them no heed. Somehow she knew what she needed to. She raised her arm and glided her hand across the air as if she were tracing an invisible arch.

“Edro! [Open!]” She commanded.

She waited for a long moment. Silence. Her arm was still raised and she wondered in fear if she had been mistaken. Her hand was shaking. Maybe her dreams had spoken a different name. She waited. Nothing happened. She was about to claim defeat when the doors, as if awaken from some old memory, began to move of their own accord. She heard the perplexed murmurs of the watchers on the fortress. Only the members of the Royal family could open the doors in this fashion.

And then havoc broke across the lines of guards.

“Call the Elvenking!” They bellowed.

“She opened the doors!”

“But who can she be? I have never seen her before!”

The elleth was too entranced at the sight of the opening gates to even worry about any possible dangers coming from the soldiers. The ground trembled around her and the pebbles on the road jumped off the dirt as if they were alive. With a loud rumble, the wooden doors stopped moving. The entrance was fully opened.

*

Thranduil appeared to listen to the reports presented to him by his son Oropher. Humans were becoming more daring in their explorations of the woods. More and more among the world of Men were forgetting about the Elves and their audacious approaches to the Realm of the Wood-elves greatly bothered Thranduil. Their magic was strong, but it was proving insufficient to ward them from the eyes of curious humans. The Dwarves in Erebor were experiencing the same problems and they kept themselves to their crafts in the deeps of the Lonely Mountain, keeping little contact with the outside world.

Oropher’s voice continued with the report and Thranduil found himself slipping farther away from the gathering. In the past weeks he had barely rested. His waking dreams had been plagued with memories of years past. Memories of her so vivid that more than once he had awoken expecting to see her laying by his side. He was beginning to wonder if he was going mad. Unable to control it, his mind wandered again. He could almost feel her presence right by him. He felt his heartbeat increase as well as his breathing, while his hands felt cold and clammy. He found himself unable to even focus his eyes on the table right in front of him.

“By the Valar, what is happening to me?” He muttered as he rose.

Oropher stopped talking and looked at his father mystified. Most of the Elvenking’s Councilors and his Captains were there. Thranduil found himself being scrutinized by many pairs of eyes. He ignored them. An unseen force was guiding him and without saying one word, he left the room and headed for the courtyard.

The elleth entered the House of the Elvenking. It was exactly as it had been in her dreams. The elves that were keeping guard were now sprinting up staircases and along narrow corridors protruding from the bailey surrounding the courtyard with every intention of stopping her, yet reluctant to do so after what they had witnessed.

She continued walking. The entrance of the Palace loomed now in front of her, carved in the living rock of the caves, with two great columns flanking the vast entrance. Ivy leaves had been engraved around the pillars along with words of wisdom and lore. It was magnificent. She stood at the foot of the stairs, ready to climb them, when a figure appeared at the open doors.

It was an elf crowned with woodland flowers and flaxen blond hair falling past his shoulders. His eyes found her immediately, but she was not able to read them. There was no hint of emotion written on his face. He simply stood at the top of the stairs like a carved statue.

“My Lord, she opened the doors on her own!”

Thranduil barely heard the guard. The Elvenking was being swallowed by a river of forgotten feelings. Right in front of his eyes was his wife, just as she had been in life. His legs felt weak, his heart was screaming, and yet his training as leader didn’t allow him to succumb to the tempest of emotions.

“My Lord, what are we to do?” one of the closest guards asked.

With one wave of his hand, Thranduil made understood that every one should go back to their posts. The gates were already closing. In that moment, the whole world disappeared and Thranduil found himself as if he were living a dream. He heard his wife’s voice, as if it were coming from afar.

“Istach na nin? [Do you know me?]” She asked.

The Elvenking stared into the sapphire eyes. He then studied her face. The long blonde hair that fell in waves past her waist, the chiseled features, the dark eyebrows that framed tumultuous eyes; it was her, there were no doubts in his heart.

“I do know you,” he answered.

She climbed up the stairs until she was right in front of him. There were but inches between them. She stared at him intensely and her eyebrows knitted in concentration as her eyes took in each one of his features.

“Pedo ennethen [Speak my name],” she whispered. “Ú-‘erin rhîn na cha [I have no memory of it].”

She saw the indifference of his countenance crumbling and then she felt his hand warm and sure against her cheek as he touched her. The sudden marvel that flooded his face told her that he was making sure he was not dreaming. His voice rang clear and loving when he said,

“Idhreniel.”

The sound of her name coming from his lips made her smile in relief. She had not been wrong. He knew her in both body and soul.

At that very moment she noted another figure from the corner of her eye exiting the gates of the Palace. She turned to look at him. He bore a strong resemblance to the Elvenking and he seemed preoccupied. When he spotted them, he immediately walked to them.

“Is everything well?” He asked full of concern. His eyes studied the Elvenking first, then he fixed his eyes on her.

“Who is she, Adar?” He inquired, scrutinizing her face. For a moment there was no recognition in his eyes, but then they widened in amazement and surprise. The only word that left his lips seared her to her very core.

“Naneth …” It was not a question. Even though his voice had choked, it had been said with absolute certainty.

Idhreniel’s world suddenly turned black. She grasped Thranduil’s arm, striving to find some sort of support. The last thing she felt before she lost consciousness were the arms of her husband lifting her off the ground.

*

Hroa: body
Fëa: spirit
Idhreniel: Wise one. Grace.
Lathron: Listener.
Siriel: River-maiden.
Bregol: Fierce
Adar: Father
Naneth: Mother


Chapter 2 - Remembering

Thanks to Panneth for beta reading. Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed and been such a great support. And finally, thanks to Marcel Proust.

Chapter 2: Remembering

“She came along and she cut me loose …” Coldplay.

Master Tholinnas shook his head in amazement and sat in silence for a long moment. Elves returning from Mandos were not the type of incidents that happened everyday. As a matter of fact, it was a very rare occurrence. Yet, right in front of his very own eyes, there was tangible proof of the veracity of it: the Queen had been returned to the world of the living. He had never known her, but he had heard many among the Wood-elves speak kindly of her.

The healer was aware of the Elvenking and Oropher’s presence a few steps away from him. While the Elvenking seemed pensive, Oropher did not seem to be able to stay still. He was fidgeting and pacing around, stealing long glances at his mother. Master Tholinnas, however, was more worried about the King than he was about the younger elf. He had offered him some herbs to help him deal with the shock of his wife’s sudden presence, but he had refused forcefully. The bewilderment in the King’s eyes was obvious to see. Thranduil appeared to have stepped into an unknown realm where he was uncertain of what may happen next.

Master Tholinnas turned his attention to the Queen. She was still unconscious, in some sort of trance. Her face was grey, even under the warm light of the Sun that filtered through the window. Master Tholinnas pursed his lips, unsure of how to proceed. After his examination he had concluded that her body was in the best of health. Her spirit was a different matter, for it seemed to be sunk deeply in a web of old recollections. He heard the rustling of skirts close by and lifted his eyes to see his apprentice, Faelwen, handing him a cloth soaked in athelas water. He took it and used it to wipe the Queen’s forehead and face. After a few moments her brow lost some of its tension and she seemed to sink into a deep sleep.

Faelwen took the cloth back from him and mentioned,

“Only by looking at her face can you see the strain that troubles her. And her eyes … I wonder what is happening in her mind.”

Master Tholinnas nodded, understanding what Faelwen meant. The Queen’s eyes were closed shut, to the point that it almost seemed painful. The strangest thing was that they were restlessly moving under the eyelids, as if they were actually witnessing events unfolding in front of them. Master Tholinnas frowned in frustration. During his training in Rivendell he had heard Lord Elrond explaining similar behavior in humans, during their moments of deepest sleep, but he had never observed this happening in an elf.

The healer turned toward the Elvenking and said,

“From what I can gather, I believe she expected to see you, but encountering one of your children as well was more than she could handle.”

The Elvenking remained silent. Master Tholinnas continued.

“She is remembering, but how much she will know when she awakens I do not know,” the healer said. “All we can do now is wait.”

He rose from the bedside and Faelwen excused herself. Master Tholinnas collected his things and then walked to Thranduil. He was by the window, staring pensively at the outside world. The healer cleared his throat and the Elvenking turned to face him.

“’Tis a shame Lord Glorfindel has departed for the West. He might have been of great help.” Master Tholinnas pondered for a long moment. “I wonder if he might have left some journals behind. Maybe even Lord Elrond kept track of Glorfindel’s progress over the years. It would be advisable to send a messenger to Imladris; the sons of Elrond might be of some help in this matter.”

“I will send a messenger right away,” Thranduil said after a moment of silence. His eyes shifted again to the figure lying on the bed. His eyebrows knitted as he traveled his beloved’s features. Master Tholinnas continued,

“It would be wise to introduce her to her old life gradually. Too much information could have undesirable results.” Master Tholinnas lowered his voice and finished, “there are other matters of a more private nature we need to discuss.”

Thranduil tried to gauge exactly what the healer needed to discuss with him, but couldn’t. One thing was obvious: Master Tholinnas didn’t want to speak with Oropher present. Thranduil walked to the door, and asked Oropher to follow him. To his surprise, he found a whole crowd gathered in the middle of the hall when he opened the door.

The murmurs that had filled the air died immediately and Thranduil found himself pierced by many pairs of eyes, waiting for any information the King might give. Most of them, Thranduil realized, were the helpers and workers that had known the Queen previously and love and concern shone on their faces. The Elvenking was moved at the sight. He cleared his throat, and simply said,

“The Queen is back. Unseal the Royal Chambers.”

Thranduil then turned to Oropher,

“Make sure all of her possessions are removed,” he confided with his son. “Tell the maids to leave only the essentials.”

“I understand, Father. I will personally make sure it is done.”

With those words Oropher left. Thranduil gave one last look at those left in the hall and then entered the room again. He walked to Master Tholinnas’ side and said,

“What exactly do you wish to talk to me about?”

Master Tholinnas smiled nervously and fidgeted with his bag. If the situation wouldn’t have been so serious the Elvenking would’ve laughed. Master Tholinnas had been the family’s healer for many years and in the process of taking care of the royals he had become a friend as well. But at this very moment the healer was behaving as if he were in his first assignment. After a failed attempt to get the words out of his mouth, Master Tholinnas finally succeeded,

“It would be advisable that you do not seek any type of intimacy yet. Her fëa is old, but her hroa is new. Her body looks like the one she had in her previous life, but the likeness ends there. She will need time for her fëa to commune with her hroa . . . a joining may prove to be more than she could cope with right now.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and stared at the healer with an indignant look on his face. Joining with his wife had not even entered his mind. Regardless of the Elvenking’s discomfort, Master Tholinnas seemed to breath easier once he had finished with the most delicate side of his advice.

“I have used restraint all these years,” Thranduil finally spat out. “I think I can handle myself for however long is necessary.”

“But there is also the question of gwedinaeth. It is bound to become undone.”

Thranduil shook his head and paced for a moment around the room. He had undergone gwedinaeth after Idhreniel’s death. The procedure itself consisted of a series of exercises that helped him bind the pain that his wife’s absence had caused him. It also allowed him to resume his duties as father and king at a time when he felt as if he wouldn’t live to see the light of the next day. Thranduil stopped in front of the healer and said,

“I am prepared to face it if it were to happen. Do not concern yourself.”

Master Tholinnas smiled sympathetically. Thranduil would not ever admit he needed help even if he were about to step into Mandos.

“All that I am saying is that you should proceed with caution,” the healer said softly. “Call for me if you need me. Do not be so stubborn as to think that you do not require a healer’s wisdom … or a friend’s company.”

“Hannon le,” Thranduil replied, truly touched.

The healer left and Thranduil stayed at the spot for a long moment. His mind was lost in thoughts past the four walls of the room. He sat on a chair and there he waited, drowned in turmoil and anticipation. It was almost evening when he heard her calling.

“Thranduil?”

Her voice sounded frail and it was barely a whisper, but to hear her say his name was like a balm for his soul. He walked to her bedside and looked down at her. He was still uncertain on how to act. One side of him told him to embrace her, to kiss her, to touch her just to convince himself that she was indeed there. The other side, his cautious side, told him to wait, warned him to wait. He could see the confusion on her face. He could see the way her eyes were darting here and there, absorbing everything, but not fully understanding. It would take her time to become the determined elleth she had once been, to recover all of her wit and strength.

Politely, he asked,

“Do you have need of anything? Food? Water?”

She propped herself on her elbows and silently stared at him for a long moment. Her long blonde hair shone brightly against the brown and green of her clothing. Only then did Thranduil realize that she was dressed like a scout. Idhreniel seemed to sense his puzzlement, but all she said was,

“Sit down, please.”

He did as he was told and took a seat on the bed, facing her. She sat down also and thanked him when he helped her to prop herself up against the many cushions lining the headboard. She looked at her surroundings and he saw clear disappointment on her face.

“This is not our room.”

“The Royal chambers are being prepared for you. I rest now in different quarters, closer to our sons’ rooms.”

“Our sons?” she asked. Before he could answer, she closed her eyes and a blissful smile drew itself on her face. “Yes . . . Legolas, Oropher, Aradol. Our children.”

She opened her eyes, proud to have at last remembered her own offspring. The thought of children had not crossed her mind when she arrived to the Palace. Oropher’s presence had caught her by surprise, more so than Thranduil’s.

Husband and wife stared at each other for a long moment. The silence in the chamber was becoming a heavy burden, but neither of them was certain how to proceed. Wishing to break the uncomfortable moment, Idhreniel told her husband of her awakening by the riverside and her encounter with the scouts. She told him of her dreams and the few recollections she had of their life.

Thranduil seemed to soften his demeanor and he seemed delighted when she told him that she remembered the day of their first meeting. Seeing that he seemed more at ease, Idhreniel asked of him the one thing that had been on her mind throughout their conversation.

“May I …?” She asked as she lifted her hands to his face. The gesture left no doubts. She wished to touch him. Thranduil nodded, but to Idhreniel’s dismay, she saw concern clouding his eyes.

Her fingers caressed the side of his face first. Soft skin and silky flaxen hair, so light it was almost silver. As her fingers moved she felt the proud structure right underneath his skin that gave him the regal look she had seen in her dreams. Her thumbs caressed his cheekbones and her fingertips traveled down his face to rest for a brief moment on his lips. She lightly touched the length of his nose and she fixed her eyes in his as she did. He seemed to be as enthralled with her as she was with him. The only sound in the room was the soft breathing of the two elves; almost in unison, the same as their hearts.

She forced her eyes away from the lure of his gaze and nervously stared at the leaves crowning his head. She raised her hand, intending to touch it, but she curled her fingers away and hesitated. Thranduil moved his head slightly, almost inviting her to do it. His voice resonating in the silent room caught her by surprise and she stared at him again when he spoke.

“You were always the one to make these crowns. You chose the flowers for Summer and the berries for Winter, and then you weaved them and prepared them.” He paused and took her hand in his. It was cold, but her skin was silky and delicate like a newborn’s. “… and you were the one to put this crown on my head every single time,” he finished with a note of melancholy in his voice.

Idhreniel squeezed her husband’s hand, and then she disentangled herself from him. She raised now both hands, intending to lift the crown, just as she had seen herself do in her dreams, but the moment the pads of her fingers touched the white flowers, she felt as if she had been burned.

Images came to her mind in a rush. Happy times, sad seasons, laughter and tears resonated inside her. She had children in her arms, she stood by her husband’s side as Queen and ruler. She read, she sewed, she sang, she wrote, she loved. She could see the great trees of the Greenwood, she could hear the happy squeals of her offspring … and then water, water pulling her down, cold water that she could feel in her bones, drowning her. She needed to breath, just a gasp of air …

She opened her mouth and breathed in deep gulps, feeling like she would never be able to get enough to live. Her eyes felt moist with tears and she realized that she had fallen back on the bed and that Thranduil was holding her in his arms. She stared at him frightened by the intensity of the images. She took his hands and moved them away from her, then let herself sink against the pillows. Regretfully, she tried to explain as best as she could,

“The memories return too fast. It is like a storm inside me, a nightmare I cannot escape. I cannot cope …”

Thranduil nodded understanding, then said,

“I shall go.”

*

Thranduil didn’t know how he had arrived to the family’s garden, but he breathed in relief when he found himself sitting on the ledge of a fountain. The soft breeze of the early evening cleared his senses and brought him a slight relief. Yet he knew that something was amiss and that this was only the calm before the storm.

He hadn’t expected that her innocent touches would awaken her memories in such a way. He should’ve known better. He had been fearful when she had fallen into that strange spell. As he held her and Idhreniel battled her demons, Thranduil had felt the most peculiar feeling inside him. It felt as if something had snapped. He knew now that his own battle had begun.

Unconsciously, his right hand grasped his chest, right above his heart. Gwedinaeth was becoming undone. The pain, the despair, the raw loneliness of the first weeks following the death of his wife were hitting him mercilessly with the fury of a hot whip. He tried to rationalize the situation … she was back, there was no need for desperation, everything would eventually be resolved. But the reasoning of his mind did little to bring him any peace.

The world began spinning and not even the deep breaths of air he was taking in were helping him to gain power over his passions. His hroa and fëa were out of control, fighting for dominion, and unable to stand the brunt of memories past. The emotions tore at his heart and he could do nothing to stop it. His mind kept falling into a tumultuous mélange of recollections and experiences he would best leave forgotten and his heart relived with bitter pain the tears and the lonely nights that had followed his mate’s departure.

Thranduil shook his head, as if the move would rid him of the unwanted sorrow. He concentrated his senses on the bubbling water of the fountain. His fingers dipped below the surface. He allowed the song of the falling drops to fill his mind. The water felt cool to the touch. It was like singing silver. Slowly his heartbeat returned to normal and his breathing calmed down.

The soothing sound of the water was interrupted by a foreign rustle, and Thranduil stared ahead to see Oropher approaching.

“Adar,” Oropher said. “Have you been here the whole time? I have been looking for you all evening. Mother is in her chambers now.”

Thranduil looked up at the sky. It was close to midnight. How long had he been fighting the unbinding? He rose hastily, almost losing his balance. Oropher was immediately by his side.

“Are you feeling well?” He asked.

Thranduil shook his head and said,

“The presence of your mother is unchaining the old pain. Gwedinaeth is loosening its binding.” He heard Oropher’s exclamation of surprise, but Thranduil paid no heed and continued. “I am to retire to my rooms. I do not know for how long I will be gone. Only Master Tholinnas is allowed to see me, no one else. Take care of your mother. She might wish for some company, perhaps Annael would be a good choice.”

Oropher agreed with his father and assured him that the Queen would be taken care of. Annael was wife to Thranduil’s First Captain and both were dear friends of the family, especially Legolas. Annael had never met the Queen and that fact, combined with her agreeable nature, might prove to be of great help.

Oropher walked by his father’s side as they entered the dwelling, ready to help him in whatever was needed. His father was obviously distraught, but he would not admit any type of weakness. Even though the burden he carried was visible, the Elvenking still tried to command himself with dignity. Wanting to ease his father’s worries, Oropher said,

“Father, I shall make sure that we send our fastest messenger to Imladris. I will ask Master Tholinnas to write a missive to the sons of Elrond.”

“Thank you Oropher.” There was a hesitant pause before the Elvenking continued, “there is one more letter you will need to send to Ithilien. To your brother.”

Thranduil halted his step and stared at his son intensely.

“Write to Aradol, tell him what has happened and make clear that under no circumstance is he to come here until further notice. Is that clear?”

“Yes, but Father … he will wish to see her.”

“I know, but considering what happened … it might prove too much right now for your mother. Tell Aradol to be patient.”

“It will be done.”

They resumed their walk and, before long, they arrived to the doors to Thranduil’s quarters. Oropher opened them and walked with his father inside. He helped his father change to more comfortable clothing and, after making sure Thranduil would be well on his own, he made for the door. Just as he was reaching it, he heard his father’s voice.

“Regardless of the difficulties … Today is a good day.”

Oropher simply smiled. Indeed, it was.

*

Idhreniel didn’t see Thranduil for over two weeks. She inquired of him to their son, but Oropher never gave her a straight answer. She felt confused and hurt. She longed to go searching for him, but every time she was determined to leave her chambers, the fear of what she might encounter outside her refuge proved to be too intimidating.

She was beginning to despair when one evening a green-eyed elleth knocked at her door with a pile of books and letters. She explained that her name was Annael and that she was a family friend. The Queen allowed her to enter and she felt immediately drawn to the tender friendship that Annael offered her. Every morning Annael would come to her chambers and would sew or read, as the Queen studied. She was there, Annael said, to help her in case questions arose. Idhreniel suspected that Oropher had sent her to keep her company while he was attending to his duties, but Idhreniel didn’t complain. Reading had always been a weakness of hers and Annael seemed to guess rightly the type of books the Queen would enjoy the most.

One late afternoon, after Annael had left, Idhreniel found herself immersed in a world unknown to her called Mirkwood. She had strewn some silky pillows on the ground, close to the double doors which were completely opened into a small private garden. The warm summer breeze felt delightful on her face and in that makeshift bed, she laid and detached herself from the fragility of her current reality.

She barely heard the sound of the main door opening, but she noted her heartbeat increasing and a gentle pull on her senses that distracted her from her reading: the signal that someone loved was approaching. Without even thinking, she knew who it was and exclaimed,

“Three thousand years … there is so much to read and learn!” There was a slight pause, but she didn’t pry her eyes away from the parchment she was holding. “Yet I confess, I would rather be learning about my husband than about the deeds of others.”

Thranduil stood a few paces away from her. He didn’t miss her tone. There was chastisement and disappointment in her words. He observed her for a long moment before he faced her. She had always been an avid reader and the sight of her sprawled on the floor hit him with more force than he wished to admit to himself. She was lying on her stomach and clad in a wispy blue gown. Her legs were folded and her bare feet moved playfully in the air. Her abundant blonde locks covered her back and glowed like gold in the light of the setting sun. He had forgotten how beautiful she was.

He walked to her side and readied himself to confront the consequences of his silence and disappearance. He took a seat on a pillow close by and Idhreniel raised her gaze. When she saw his face, she gasped and dropped the book.

“What has happened? Have you been ill? Oropher told me you were indisposed, but I did not think it to be true … I am so sorry! I have been a fool to think you were avoiding me!”

Thranduil shook his head and was slightly embarrassed when his wife rose and crawled to him, only to kneel right in front of him. She framed his face with her hands and scrutinized him with concern. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale and pasty. He seemed to have lost some weight as well.

“It appears I am not the only one who suffers from nightmares of years past,” she whispered.

There was a sad smile on Thranduil’s lips, and he took her hand between his.

“Do not believe I am not glad that you are here,” he said. “My heart feels like it is going to burst when I think that you have been returned. But you are so different, yet so alike to who you used to be … it confuses me and it sends my mind and heart reeling to the point I do not know how I should feel or what I should do.”

Idhreniel nodded in sympathy. She knew all too well what he was going through. She intertwined her fingers with his and her thumb played with the many jeweled rings that adorned his hands. After a moment of thought, she said,

“Are we then condemned to this uncertainty?”

A hopeful smile drew itself in Thranduil’s lips and he shook his head.

“I do not think we are,” he said. “Perhaps all that we need is a little patience.”

*

The months passed and Idhreniel slowly remembered. Some days she made more progress than others, but she felt that her journey to a full recovery of her life was but just beginning. Autumn came and went and then Winter passed with its heavy snows and dark nights. Thranduil moved into their chambers, but didn’t share the same bed with her. He rested in one of the rooms adjacent to hers, his door always open and ready to receive her in case she was in need of anything. But Idhreniel slept alone. During the day she would spend time with her husband and with Annael who continued guiding her patiently through books and the knowledge of three thousand years past.

Spring arrived. It had been one year since her rebirth and Idhreniel found herself wondering when she would be able to lead a normal life; the life she saw in her dreams, the life she yearned to reach but couldn’t have just yet.

One morning Annael knocked at her door to accompany her outside. Idhreniel had become more adventurous on her outings in the Palace and their daily walks and activities took them all over the grounds. Idhreniel was still weary of encountering elves that would trigger even more memories, but her love of the outdoors eventually won. With Annael by her side and hooded, both elves headed for one of the fruit gardens. The berries were ripe to be picked, Annael had told her.

Idhreniel followed the elleth through the halls until they reached a wooden door that opened into a short tunnel. They glided quickly on the stone floor and then they stepped out in the gardens. The trees and grape vines were beginning to show the first signs of fruit, but the bushes were burdened under the weight of the many ripe berries ready to be picked.

Idrheniel uncovered herself and toyed with the basket. This was one area of the grounds she was not familiar with and she stared around nervously, wondering if this place would bring her anything to remember.

“Look at all those berries!” Annael said as she made for the nearest bush.

Idhreniel followed closely and smiled when Annael presented her with a couple of them. They were round and dark burgundy. She put one in her mouth. When she chewed on it, the sensation was like a burst of bittersweet flavor that flooded her senses. The woody, syrupy taste traveled down her throat and filled her nostrils. There was something about the taste … something familiar and calming and full of cherished moments.

Annael kept on picking berries and placing them carefully in her basket. Idhreniel put another in her mouth and this time there was no mistake. The taste awoke something deep within her. She stayed motionless, still chewing on the fruit, and suddenly said,

“Annael, take me to the kitchens!”

“To the kitchens?”

“Yes, we are going to bake a pie!”

*

Annael watched in rapture. She loved to cook, but it was clear that Idhreniel thought of baking as pure art. She could not believe that until now the Queen had not visited the kitchens. Idhreniel’s hands expertly kneaded and worked the ingredients to make the flaky pastry. She was mixing spices Annael had never thought of putting together and the smell of the cooked berries mixed with a snip of mint and honey was filling the kitchen deliciously. Some of the cooks were there, watching from a distance as entranced as Annael was, while others were heating the rock oven outside in preparation for the baking.

Idhreniel was covered in flour to her elbows and even though her hair was tied in a single braid, some of the front strands kept getting loose. The Queen simply put them back with the help on her wrist, getting some flour on her reddened cheeks. Annael wished Thranduil could’ve been there to see her. The fear that usually loomed in her eyes was replaced with glee and pure excitement. She truly looked like she was living the moment, not lost in recollections of long ago.

The Queen worked now on the lattice that would cover the pie and Annael marveled again. It was intricate and made with the thinnest pieces of pastry. When she finished, the pie was a delicate masterpiece. Idhreniel stared at Annael with a contented look in her face. Together, they went outside to the oven and waited.

*

Idhreniel walked into Thranduil’s private offices without knocking. There were two messengers, one scribe, one scout, and Oropher present as well. Everyone stood and stared at her mystified. Idhreniel was used to the sudden silences that her presence seemed to generate in everyone. This time, however, it didn’t bother her. She was carrying a white porcelain plate proudly, as if it were the most amazing treasure. On the plate, there was one single, perfect piece of berry pie topped with thick cream. The sweet smell filled the room. She placed the plate in front of Thranduil and produced a fork and a napkin from the pocket of her apron. Thranduil stared at the piece of pie and shook his head. For a moment Idhreniel thought he might be upset that she had interrupted the meeting, but then she saw the smile crossing his face, and she knew that she had assumed correctly. This berry pie was her husband’s favorite, an old recipe that only Idhreniel knew.

“It cannot be,” Thranduil said as he sat down and took the fork.

“Apparently, I can cook!” Idhreniel replied happily.

She watched as her husband took the first bite almost reverently. His eyes closed and the most wonderful expression of bliss appeared on his face. In no time, the rest of the piece of pie had disappeared. He was still munching on the last bite, when he asked her with his mouth full,

“Where is the rest?”

Idhreniel laughed and surprised even herself. Not since coming to the Palace had she felt so completely happy. Beaming, she explained,

“The rest is in the kitchens and I believe the cooks are preparing a meal for us as well. Would you join me for the rest of the day?”

Thranduil stood, chuckling, and looked at the rest of the occupants of the room. Before he could say anything, Oropher rose from his chair and walked to the head of the table where his father had been sitting.

“I will conduct the rest of the meeting, Father.”

Much to Oropher’s surprise, Thranduil didn’t object. Instead he turned to his wife and playfully rubbed away some flour from her nose. He took her hand in his and said,

“What are we waiting for?”

Before they reached the door, Oropher called,

“Naneth?”

Idhreniel turned to look at her son and smiled widely,

“Not to worry, I saved a piece for you … I promise I will not let him eat it!”

*

The day had proven to be absolutely delightful. They went on a horse ride into the forest and ate in a secluded glade. They talked incessantly for the whole time, like they had not in the past months. Nighttime found them perched high on a tree branch, staring at the many stars shining in the sky. Thranduil laid down on the thick wood with Idhreniel close by his side. He groaned and rubbed his stomach as he said,

“I think I ate too much of that pie.”

Idhreniel laughed. Her hand replaced his on his belly and she pushed in a little. Thranduil groaned louder and said,

“If you keep pushing like that the berries will come out of my mouth …”

Another bubble of laughter escaped her lips and Thranduil stared mesmerized this time. Her hand still rested on his stomach and through the silk of his shirt he could feel the warmth of her touch. The sensation caught him off guard. He felt a stirring inside him that it was nothing like he had felt in many years. He enjoyed the unexpected pleasure for a blissful moment. Her hand moved again and he couldn’t help squirming in instinct at the graze of her touch.

Idhreniel raised an eyebrow and stared at him quizzically. In a solemn voice, she said,

“Your Royal Highness . . . are you ticklish?”

Before he replied, she had straddled his waist and her fingers were moving quickly along his sides. He couldn’t help the laughter that escaped his lips. In that moment he felt absolutely free of all burden. He tried to rid himself of her, but she had him effectively pinned against the branch. Her hands moved too quickly across his chest and sides for him to grab them and he submitted himself to the torture of her fingers, feeling absolutely comfortable with the type of touch he had not felt in many years.

There was but a moment of hesitancy on her part and Thranduil seized the opportunity to grab her wrists and successfully quiet her hands. He pulled her towards him, until her face was but inches away from him. He realized a moment too late that the silly game they had been playing had taken a very serious turn.

Idhreniel’s laughter died and she stared at him with wide eyes. The night stood still in that single moment and the only sound they could hear was that one of their own hearts beating. He released her wrists and moved until he was sitting with Idhreniel still straddling his lap. His hands sought her waist and he encircled her with his arms almost hesitantly, wondering if he was going too far. But the strange glint he saw in her eyes told him that she was as eager as he was to be closer to one another.

His hands moved from her waist, traveling up her back. Her body was willowy, almost delicate, but he knew the strength that was hidden under the frail appearance. When he reached her neck, he lovingly took in his fingers a loose strand of hair from her thick braid, as silky and soft as he remembered, and glowing with a beautiful silver shine under the moonlight.

His right hand moved cautiously from her neck until he was touching her face. His fingers caressed her temple and then traveled down to follow the elegant line of her jaw. He traced her bottom lip with his thumb, mesmerized by the softness of it. Her scent was driving him mad and there was no doubt now of the type of feelings her nearness was awakening. To his dismay, he realized he felt as nervous as he had been when he had experienced their first kiss, as eager as he had been when he had lain for the first time with her … as incapable as he had felt the first time he had seen her in that training field, so many years ago.

His finger drew a breezy line from her lip to her chin, still unconvinced if he should proceed as his instincts told him to. But she angled her head, leaving him no doubts now of what she wished. Her lips were partially open, inviting him … he moved accordingly, until the silky skin was barely against him. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, giving him the permission he was waiting for.

Her hands that had been still until now moved to his shoulders, but she halted their path and she left them with her wrists resting tensely against him, expectant, waiting. He finally closed the remaining distance and felt her lips fully against his. There was no hesitation on her part. The silkiness of her touch enveloped him and their lips moved in unison; timidly, gently nibbling. Her hands resumed their path and her fingers entwined themselves in the strands of his hair, caressing him, enticing him closer to her. She suckled on his lower lip and he took the chance to kiss her this time fully, snaking his tongue inside her and almost bursting with joy when she returned the gesture eagerly. His arms embraced her possessively, bringing her as near to him as he could, and the kiss continued, slowly, sensually, gradually awakening and kindling their desire for one another.

Idhreniel felt like she would burn right there. She could not deny to herself the effect of her husband’s kiss. His lips were bold and the touch of his hands was leaving a trail of fire in her being. Several images were unchained; feelings and sensations that had not yet trickled back into her mind. In her thoughts, she could feel his weight on her, she could feel his power, the touch of his hands, the taste of his lips, but most of all, the ever binding force of their union.

Unable to cope with the fervent sensations her fëa and hroa were experiencing simultaneously, she shivered in his arms and he seemed to sense her sudden wavering. He took control of his emotions and the passion of his kiss dwindled. He separated himself from her, giving her one last kiss on her cheek. He then helped her move from his lap to sit by his side. They both knew it was enough for now. Idhreniel sighed with relief when Thranduil contented himself with putting his arm around her shoulders and embracing her against him. Her voice sounded small and hesitant when she said,

“I am sorry I cannot give you more.”

He kissed her forehead and then rested his cheek against her hair.

“Do not apologize. This is certainly new for me as well … It has been long and I would rather we do not rush.”

Idhreniel rested her head against his chest for a long time, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart. The stars became brighter in the heavens and Idhreniel lost herself in trails of starlight, finding some of the most cherished constellations she remembered. After a time, she straightened, but Thranduil didn’t let go of her. She stared directly into his eyes and asked the question that had been haunting her since she had awoken by the riverside.

“Thranduil, how did I die?”

Idhreniel saw his jaw tense and his eyes become full of sorrow and regret. She felt his embrace tighten around her protectively, bringing her close to him again.

“An unfortunate accident,” was all he said.

*

Gwedinaeth: literally, to bind sorrow. The procedure Thranduil and Master Tholinnas talk about is not canon but of my own invention.

Adar: Father


Chapter 3 - Unlocking

Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed ... you make my day!
Thanks to Panneth for all of her wonderful beta work.

*

Chapter 3: Unlocking

“So if you want to love me, then darling don’t refrain …” Guns’n Roses



“Make sure to keep the scouts vigilant, especially around the Eastern borders,” Thranduil said as he put his gauntlets on.

“Yes, Father,” replied Oropher, who was walking by him, striving to keep up with Thranduil’s quick pace.

“You might wish to consider sending a messenger to Erebor, I would like to know if the Dwarves are experiencing the same problems with Men as we are of late.”

“Yes, Father.”

They were already approaching the stables. Thranduil saw his wife standing by her horse, ready to mount. There was another horse prepared for him and a third one carrying the supplies they would need for the trip.

“I am also worried about the troops we sent to patrol the Southern borders closest to Moria. We have not had news of them for weeks. I would like you to speak to Nárgalen of this and take the appropriate action.”

“Father?”

Thranduil stopped in his tracks to look at Oropher. His son had an amused look on his face.

“I think I can take care of the Kingdom during your absence. Please, enjoy yourselves and do not worry about these matters.” Oropher said.

Thranduil smiled at his son and nodded.

“I am sorry. I know you are capable, but I am not used to simply leaving my affairs in someone else’s hands.”

“You deserve this time with her, Father.” Oropher smiled impishly and couldn’t help to add, “make the most of it.”

Thranduil chuckled, then put his hand on Oropher’s shoulder and said,

“Knowing that you will be in charge of everything here will make my departure easier.”

Together, they made for the horses. After making sure everything was prepared, Thranduil mounted his steed. Idhreniel approached her son and embraced him. She had greatly enjoyed Oropher’s company during the last year and had learned much about the adult he had become. She knew she would deeply miss him. They would be gone for many weeks, Thranduil had said. If Oropher had not offered to take all the responsibilities on his shoulders, Idhreniel was certain Thranduil would’ve been much more reluctant to go for so long. Right before she pulled away, she whispered,

“Hannon le, ionnen [thank you, my son].”

*

Idhreniel stared at the small cottage rising by the side of the river. After only a few days of travel, they had arrived to their destination. She remembered this dwelling vaguely. She knew it was a place where their family had spent many happy moments, but every time she concentrated on remembering something … anything about their trips to the cottage, she found herself facing a solid wall of darkness. Perhaps, she had concluded, she was not ready to know what lay behind that wall. Idhreniel would have preferred to travel further south and visit Aradol in Ithilien, but her husband had answered with a very curt no. She was beginning to wonder if this place would be the key that would unlock the door to truly recover her past.

Idhreniel busied herself for most of the afternoon by unpacking their clothing and supplies, opening windows and lightly cleaning the place. Thranduil, in the meantime, had told her that he would procure them dinner. She wondered if he had gone hunting. After being satisfied that everything had been taken care of, she ventured outside to gather dead wood for a fire. The sight she caught left her frozen to the spot.

The river was a gentle stream singing a few paces away from their house. She could see many insects buzzing right above the crystalline surface, she could hear the song of the frogs and the happy burbling of the water. But her eyes were solely fixed on the figure that stood perfectly still atop a rock. Clad only in breeches and armed with a spear, the King’s back shone with moisture in the light of the afternoon sun. He had tied his hair in one single braid that allowed Idhreniel to see each one of the strong muscles outlined on his back. The gathering of wood was immediately forgotten. Thranduil was fishing.

She didn’t know for how long she watched him, lost in the most delightful thoughts, but the moment he moved forward with great force, she startled in surprise. The spear sunk in the water and Thranduil retrieved it immediately. A great trout was impaled by the wood, flapping fruitlessly against the stick. Thranduil turned and made for the shore. Idhreniel was already approaching to help him, but he raised his hand and said vehemently,

“Stay back from the water!”

Idhreniel was surprised at his tone and said,

“I am only trying to assist you.”

Thranduil’s demeanor softened, although Idhreniel could still see a dark worry clouding his eyes.

“Maybe you could start a fire while I clean the fish in the river,” he said.

Idhreniel nodded and giving him one last look went to work. Thranduil almost believed that he saw a fiery glint in them.

*

Thranduil gathered the catch of the day in a shallow plate. He had cleaned the three trout and was eager to dine. From the shore he could smell the wood burning and the mixture of spices Idhreniel was preparing to cook the fish. His stomach rumbled at the thought of a good meal. Idhreniel had a very special gift in the kitchen and her talents had bloomed since she had made that berry pie a few weeks back. Thranduil rose from the rock he had been kneeling on and turned around. He glanced quickly at Idhreniel, only to halt his step and look at her again. The sight was most delightful and unexpected.

She was on all fours, blowing carefully into the fire to kindle it more. The mortar, where she had been mixing the ingredients for their dinner, lay forgotten by her side. The King stared again and almost groaned. In the light of the sinking sun the fabric of her gown was almost transparent and the curves of her body were perfectly outlined. She began fidgeting with a thin piece of log, and her breasts moved accordingly, gently swaying inside the soft fabric. His eyes followed the feline line of her body. Graceful, delicate, yet powerful, and extremely flexible, he reminded himself. He chastised himself forcefully for such lustful thoughts, and was about to resume his walk when Idhreniel moved again. Apparently, the fire kept causing her problems. This time she had to press her face against the earth, and her body took on a different angle when her lower back rose to compensate. A very enticing angle.

Thranduil felt his hand unconsciously forming into a fist. His body was responding and he could do little this time to appease his desires. Ever since that kiss a few weeks ago, he had rested by her side at night, but their touches had never been more than kisses and timid explorations. Thranduil had reigned himself in, not allowing the needs of his body dominate him. He knew that the moment they joined, her fëa would commune with his and the brunt of her memories with him would be unlocked. Her trances had become almost nonexistent in the previous weeks, but he needed to make sure that she was prepared to take the next step.

He was pulled away from his reverie by her voice,

“Are you done with those fish? The fire is ready!”

Thranduil blinked quickly and approached her. He was certain he had heard a bit of laughter in her words, but decided that it must have been his imagination. He walked to her side and placed the plate on the tree stump that served as a stool.

Idrheniel stared at the trout for a moment, and after getting her hair out of her face, she grabbed the mortar again. She knelt and rocked back on her heels, placing the mortar on her lap. Rapidly, she began to work the spices again, crushing them to enhance their flavor.

Thranduil stood right in front of her, staring. He mentioned to her that he was going to clean himself up and yet he remained. He was mesmerized looking at the movements of her hands, and his eyes didn’t miss the way her breasts bounced at the rhythm of each one of the quick successive poundings. The low cut gown allowed him to see more than he had seen until now; he admired the milky texture of her skin, and the rounded swelling of her breasts. Perky and small, but perfectly shaped to fit in his hands. Perfect to knead and fondle and awaken. There was something he needed to tell her, but his mind was long gone and his tongue didn’t want to cooperate. His whole body suddenly felt heavy and hot. Very hot. Finally, he was able to mutter,

“Do not …”

“… get close to the river, I know,” she finished for him.

“I am only …”

“… trying to protect me, I know,” she said with a hint of exasperation. Her movements stopped and she lifted her head to stare right at him. She saw that his eyes were not focused on her face, but lower. She smiled playfully and asked, “Do you like my dress?”

The question broke the spell and Thranduil stared at her a bit perplexed and a bit embarrassed. He squared his jaw and replied,

“It is lovely.”

*

Dinner had been delicious. They had eaten outside, right by the fire. Idhreniel kept surprising herself in the kitchen. She knew instinctively how to do things; how to mix the right amounts of ingredients, how long to leave the food cooking, how to present her creations in the most appealing way. After the food had disappeared they remained outside, enjoying a glass of Dorwinion and for once not talking about the past, but about the future. Thranduil wanted her to be crowned Queen again and give her a lavish celebration. Idhreniel was uncertain, but she understood the motives behind her husband’s decision. The wood-elves needed to see for themselves that she had indeed returned.

“I suppose you simply want an excuse to clad me in jewels,” Idhreniel said amused. She turned slightly to look at him. His hair was hanging free of braids and he was comfortably dressed in leather breeches and a silky shirt. It was carelessly open and she could see a gold chain around his neck. Hanging from the chain, there was a round locket with intricate engravings. Idhreniel’s fingers grabbed the jewel and she finished, “jewels such as this one. It is beautiful. What does it guard?”

Thranduil put his hand over hers and stared at her cryptically,

“That, my Lady, is a secret.”

Idhreniel’s eyes widened and she feigned mock indignation,

“You would keep secrets from me?”

Thranduil laughed and set his glass down. He put his arm around her shoulders and brought her close to him. Idhreniel leaned against him as she watched the flicker of the flames. Their easy chatter dwindled and the cracking of the fire and the calling of the owls filled the night. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She could feel his warmth against her cheek and she could smell the musky scent of his skin. The feelings were there, she could not deny them any longer. The need, the instinct, the yearning that lured her to him. The air became charged with unspoken wishes and she knew that he was waiting for her to take the first step. He would not push her; he would control himself until she was prepared.

Innocently, she placed her hand on his knee. There was no reaction on his side and her hand moved lightly up his leg. She rested for a moment at his waist and then she traveled farther up, until she reached the opening of his shirt. She made a move as if she were to touch the locket again. Instead, she played lazily with the silk of the garment, outlining the seam and gently touching his chest. She saw his skin react to her contact and she looked at his face. His eyes were fixed on the fire. She could not read any clear emotion in them, but she was certain that he was clamping his jaw shut as hard as he could. As always, Thranduil was in control.

She idly followed the parting of his shirt again with the tips of her fingers for a moment and then she moved from silk to flesh. Her hand explored some of his chest and it disappeared under the fabric, searching, until she found his nipple. Uncertain now of what to do, Idhreniel let her memories flood her. In the back of her mind she knew what he enjoyed; she just needed to remember. With her fingers she caressed the soft circle a little too roughly, and enraptured, she felt as it pebbled under her thumb. Thranduil’s lips were now partially open and a low groan escaped them. It was almost painful. His eyes left the sparks of the fire to stare at her. So dark, so secretive, and so full of desire. He placed his hand over hers, successfully stopping her movements. When he spoke, his voice was thick with want,

“I did not bring you here to seduce you.”

Idhreniel’s face remained solemn and she held his gaze. She retrieved her hand from underneath his and moved slightly so that she could fully untie his tunic. Thranduil let her do as she wished, although in his eyes she could still read his reservations. Moving from his shoulders to his ribcage and feeling the steely muscles under the silky skin, Idhreniel explored his chest, marveling at the strong sensations that the touch was creating in her. She wanted to be caressed the same way. She encircled his waist, bringing her body in contact with his. Thranduil didn’t refuse her, but accommodated himself in her arms. Her lips sought to taste him and she found a perfect spot, nibbling the soft skin right by his collarbone. She could feel his pulse racing and his scent become heavier, more distinct. She murmured against his neck,

“’Tis too late … you already have.”

Without saying one word, Thranduil brought his hand to her nape and tilted her head so that he could kiss her fully, deeply, drinking her. His tongue invaded her and she responded with the same passion, her hands cradling his face, her fingers entwining in the strands of silky hair. She was lost in the kiss and unconsciously her fingers searched until they found the defined points of his ears. Without thinking, she stroked them and Thranduil abruptly ended the kiss, separating himself from her. From the look of his face she knew that she had hurt him and that it had taken all of his might not to cry out. His hands were on his knees, formed into fists and Idhreniel gave him a moment before she placed her own hand on his shoulder. When she saw that he had calmed down, she asked as tactfully as she could,

“Have you taken another during my absence?”

Thranduil’s shoulders slumped and he covered his face with his hands. He shook his head and let his hands drop. Staring into her eyes, he answered,

“How could I? I could not even bear the thought of touching someone who was not you.”

Idhreniel moved to him and sat on his lap. She put her arm around his neck and said,

“I would have understood. Tell me then, how have you coped with all these years of loneliness?”

Thranduil’s eyes were again locked with hers and this time she saw something cold in them, the strong will that had kept him alive throughout this long time of loneliness.

“Discipline,” he said between gritted teeth.

With her free hand, Idhreniel softly caressed the side of his face. She kissed his cheek and then purred in his ear,

“Discipline?” She grazed the very tip very gently with her lips, as if trying to wipe away the pain she had caused him just a moment earlier. He shuddered under her touch and her voice took on a lower cadence when she finished, “I think you should kiss discipline farewell.”

Thranduil’s hand tightened against her hip and he searched blindly for her mouth to claim her again. Their lips met and hungrily surrendered to each other. Thranduil surprised her with his fight for dominance and she let him do as he wished, feeling the passion behind his every move. His mouth left hers with a gentle bite on her lower lip and traveled down her neck, until he was kissing the swell of her breasts, teasingly following the line of her dress, sometimes with his tongue, at others with his lips. Idhreniel was delighted when he bit her lightly, causing her to shudder in anticipation. She arched into him, searching for more, and Thranduil’s hand moved from her hip up the side of her body, leaving her breathless in his wake, until he had cupped her breast.

This time, it was Idhreniel’s turn to moan when his fingers expertly pinched her nipple and fondled the soft roundness, awakening her in such a way as she thought she would never be satisfied. Her whole body ached for him and she could feel that his yearned for her as well. She couldn’t help but cry out when Thranduil’s mouth covered her nipple through the silky fabric. The touch of his lips and teeth against such a sensitive area sent her reeling and she curled her fingers in his hair bringing him closer to her. Thranduil sucked harder, but then released her with a deep groan. He kissed her lips again before resting his forehead against hers.

“Idhreniel, I need to know …” he muttered.

Idhreniel moved from him and caressed his face with her hands. His face was flushed and his eyes so dark Idhreniel barely recognized them. His breathing was heavy and she could feel how much he desired to be one with her. She knew it had taken all of his will to stop and ask, and she loved him even more for that. She licked her lips, swollen and bruised from their kissing, and said,

“I am not afraid anymore. I want this, melethen … I want you.”

Thranduil didn’t ask anymore questions. He stood, cradling her in his arms like a delicate treasure, and walked without vacillation to the cottage.

*

Idhreniel rose from the bed and carefully, not wanting to make any noise, stepped outside the cottage. Their joining had been a strange mixture of pleasure and pain for both of them. Her body had been new in every sense, and the burning now between her legs and her aching muscles only helped confirm it. The inside of her legs was stained in blood and her step faltered. Thranduil had restrained himself to the verge of agony, not wishing to cause her any discomfort, but her breaching had been more painful than she had expected.

After the first awkward moments, the pleasure had eventually come, uniting them in hroa and fëa, communing the one with the other, sharing the very essence of their beings. The joy had been inexplicable. But the joining to Thranduil’s fëa had awoken many of her lost memories and Idhreniel had spent most of the night deeply lost in dreams of old. She didn’t understand it all and was uncertain of how to cope. Thranduil had held her during the whole process and his presence had strengthened her. Near dawn he had finally succumbed to fatigue after the experiences of the previous night. Now, she was on her own.

She stood by the riverside. She remembered Thranduil’s warnings the previous day. Do not get close to it. But the river called her. Her sapphire eyes fixed themselves on the clear waters. The world around her faded, time slowing down, taking her back to a particular day among her many yesterdays. She did not hear anymore the chirping of the birds welcoming the sunrise, she could not smell the dew in the air. But she could see a blond youth standing by the river. There was something wrong with him. His leg was broken and bound with a splint. Somehow she knew this had happened as he climbed trees. She would have smiled if it weren’t for the warning of danger in her heart.

The river changed. The lazy meadows became swollen with powerful currents. This scene had happened in early Spring. The time of the Thawing. She watched as the boy moved closer to the shore. Because of his broken leg, he was uneasily picking pebbles. She heard her own voice warning him,

“Aradol, step back!”

But it was too late. The river took him. Quicker than lightning the water had swallowed the elfling, threatening to bury him in a cold tomb. She did not think twice about it. She jumped in, searching for him. After some fumbling under the water she had him in her arms. His lips were blue from the frigid waters, but he was breathing. Her relief lasted briefly. A potent current enveloped her and her son, threatening to drown them both. They were taken away from the shore, but she was able to find a precarious hold on a rock. She heard a voice calling for her and she turned in its direction. Her eldest son was perched by on a nearby branch, extending his hand toward her,

“Mother! Reach!” He yelled.

“I cannot Legolas! I will lose Aradol! Find your Father! Go!”

Aradol’s arms were around her neck like a weighty chain. The iciness of the water whipped her legs and her arms. Her skirts were becoming heavier and heavier; the otherwise light material was soaked to the core with the water. Her hands slipped from the slimy rock and the currents took her again. They went under and it took all of Idhreniel’s strength to push them both to the surface. If only she could take her skirts off she would be able to fight the force of the water better. She tried fumbling with her dress, but she could do little with one hand. Then, the unexpected.

A sharp wave of pain on her back made her scream in agony. She heard the sickening snap in her lower back. The pain was so intense she thought she would lose consciousness. They had slammed against an outgrown limb that had made its way to the river and her back had received the full force of the impact. Idhreniel’s free hand grabbed the root, while her other arm still had a tight hold on Aradol. Part of the limb was high enough that she was able to keep their heads above the surface. They were now close to the shore, so close she could almost picture herself on safe ground, but at the same time it seemed like they were miles away. She concentrated on willing her body to rise above the waters, to master the elements raging around her, but her pain was too great and her fëa resented the broken state of her hroa.

Her son stared at her, fright clearly written in his wide blue eyes.

“Naneth,” he said shivering. “Are we going to die?”

“Not today,” she replied as she attempted to give her youngest a brave smile. “How is your leg?”

“Numb,” he said .

Above the roar of the river, she heard her husband’s voice coming from the side. He had been able to get close enough to them that they were at arm’s reach. Idhreniel moved so that Aradol could grab onto the root. The youth’s broken leg made it difficult, but finally he was able to grip the tree. Idhreniel helped Aradol to move closer to the shore, slowly making progress toward safe ground.

The root moved and Idhreniel mustered all of her strength to grab Aradol by his clothing, successfully bringing most of him out of the water, and then pushing him toward his father. Thranduil was barely able to snatch the youth from a sure fall and she shivered inside when she heard Aradol’s cry of pain when his leg resented. But Idhreniel didn’t have time to dwell on the consequences of her actions. The sharp movement had taken too much strength out of her and she lost her hold on the tree. She found herself being sucked back by the current again. At least she had been able to see that Aradol was safe in his father’s arms before she went under the surface.

The water swallowed her and she tried unsuccessfully to get a hold of any object she might find. The speed picked up and she was beginning to swallow more water than breathe air into her lungs. Her body was thrown against rocks and logs, breaking her bones and battering her muscles. Suddenly she felt something hit her hand and then grasp her. She felt herself be pulled out of the water and her eyes fought to open up when her head resurfaced. She took a big gulp of air into her lungs and when she was able to see, she stared directly at her husband, precariously perched on a thin branch right above her and gripping her wrist. His voice resonated full of desperation throughout the ravine,

“Ulmo lasto beth nín! Sîdho in nin! [Ulmo listen to my voice! Appease the waters!]”

Idhreniel tried to hold onto him, but her fingers were raw and slick. Thranduil felt her grasp slipping and yelled,

“Do not let go!”

Idhreniel felt the tears come to her eyes and asked of her husband her very last wish,

“Thranduil you must promise me! Promise me you will not follow me! Our sons will need you!”

Thranduil tried to pull her up but the water was thrashing her like a rag doll. Thranduil’s next words were tinted with fear,

“I am not going to let you die! Reach with your other hand!”

Idhreniel found herself with no strength left. She felt the salty taste of blood in her mouth. Barely loud enough to be heard above the raging sound of the water, she said,

“Thranduil, my body is broken … I can do no more … I beg of you, promise me before I go …”

“I promise! Now reach!”

Idhreniel stared at him. She could see in his eyes that he knew it would not happen. They both knew that even if she survived the waters her body was too battered to live much longer. She heard his plea clearly in her mind,

‘Idhreniel, do not leave me, please …’

She tried one last time, but the force of the river was too much for her worn out body. She felt her cold fingers slowly slipping from Thranduil’s grasp. She prayed that she would be able to hold on, so that at least she would take her last breath in her husband’s arms. She tried with all of her being, but it was in vain. Her wedding ring slid out of her index finger into Thranduil’s hand. She lost her hold and she heard her husband’s bellow when the river snatched her from him. He yelled her name over and over until his voice drowned in the roar of the river.

The currents battered her body even more. She tried to fight the wild waters, but she could not do it anymore. She was exhausted. Her last thoughts were of her husband and children. The water claimed her and the Sun blurred under the clear surface. The currents enveloped her in a cold kiss, and the world faded into darkness. The last thing she saw where the hazy shapes of her beloved trees. Then she was no more.

*

She was shivering, screaming, crying. She had died saving her son, her youngest. Relief spread throughout her body. Her death had not been in vain after all. When Thranduil had told her an accident had occurred, she had thought that it had been a foolish mistake on her part that had brought all the misery her family had suffered. It had not been so.

Slowly she began to feel again. The pure morning air caressed her unclothed body and her sobs subsided. She became aware of a presence right behind her. Amongst tears, she turned to see Thranduil’s shape outlined against the rising Sun. He took a step toward her and kneeled by her side. In a barely controlled voice, he said,

“We never found your body.” There was a long pause and she stared into his eyes, seeing how they misted. His control slipped over and shakily he continued, “but I knew … I knew the exact moment when you took your last breath …”

She framed his face with her hands and then embraced him tightly against her. It was the only thing she could do. She felt his tears wetting her neck and she realized that the walls left between them had at last crumbled down.

“I am so sorry I left you … so sorry you have suffered all these years,” she sobbed into his ear.

“You did the right thing, melethen [my love]. Never doubt it.”

*

Idhreniel sat alone in the spacious room. After spending most of their summer in the cottage, they had traveled to Ithilien and had arrived that same morning. The day had been a whirlwind. She had met Lothelad, Aradol’s wife, and their twins. The thought of being a grandmother brought a smile to her face. There was so much she had missed, but at the same time, she knew she had much to live for.

Her eyes took in every detail of the talan. Thranduil had told her that Legolas had built it for his wife. One of the biggest disappointments she had suffered had been that her eldest son was gone. But being here, in the midst of something he had built with his own hands, made her feel as if she was in his presence. Aradol and Lothelad lived there now, caring for Ithilien the same way Legolas had.

Aradol was gone on a hunting trip and was due to arrive anytime now. Idhreniel had asked everyone to allow her to see her son alone. She felt that he deserved this encounter, having patiently waited for over a year to see her after her return. She hadn’t understood Thranduil’s reasons for keeping her away from her youngest all this time, but after unlocking the circumstances of her death she had at last comprehended her husband’s worries.

Her hands laid flat on the wooden table and Idhreniel stared at them. There were three rings, all given to her by Thranduil, but the one she cherished the most was the simplest of them all. A thin band of gold around her index finger: the wedding ring with which Thranduil had officially made her his wife ages ago. He had carried it all these years inside the locket that hung from his neck, right above his heart. He had given it to her by the riverside, explaining how it had miraculously stayed in his hand after he had lost her to the force of the currents. He had wondered if she would want to have another ring made, but Idhreniel would not hear of it. This one was perfect.

Idhreniel’s musings were interrupted when she heard voices and laughter at the base of the tree. Her ears strained to try and catch fragments of the conversation. She needn’t wait long. A clear voice reached her ears and she smiled widely,

“Lothelad, my love! Your husband is back! Beware, for I am hungry and more!”

There was a thump right outside the front door and Idhreniel rose from her chair. The door opened with a loud slam. A tall elf stood at the entrance, dressed in hunting gear and with a bow and quiver still strapped to his back. His resemblance to Legolas was clear to see, Idhreniel thought to herself. His deep blue eyes fell on her and he simply looked at her, caught between rapture and astonishment. Idhreniel exclaimed,

“My … Aradol … how you have grown! I never thought you had it in you to become so tall!”

The bewilderment of his semblance crumbled, and she saw his eyes glimmer with tears. He dropped his bags at the threshold and, in long steps, he walked to his mother. In an instant he was enveloped in her arms and, much to his own dismay, he was crying like a child. They stayed for a long time embracing, simply enjoying the sweet moment of their reunion. When Aradol found himself in control of his voice again, he said the words he had longed to tell her since the day he knew she had been reborn.

“Hannon le, Naneth. Annach nin guil lui dâd. [Thank you, Mother. You have given me life twice].”


THE END

*

I do hope that you enjoyed reading "Rebirth". Thanks for all your support. Until next time.

Thuriniel
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