Rebirth

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