Legolas clutched tightly onto his mother's hand when they walked back to Mirkwood. "Not too tight Legolas, you know my arm still hurts." Legolas then released his grip and walked beside her. They hadn't been walking for far when they heard something rustle in the bushes surrounding them. Idhrenel immediately knew something was wrong.
"LEGOLAS RUN!" She shouted as she immediately grabbed her young son's arm. Without looking back they raced as fast as they could through the forest, dropping the red flowers one by one. As the Queen was still recovering, she quickly ran out of breath. They both then heard snarling sounds and when Idhrenel looked up she noticed that they were cornered and circled. Quickly, the pack overpowered the Queen and the small elf, for the only weapon she had on her person was her silver dagger — a gift from her husband, Thranduil. But she fought hard, refusing to give up without a fight. She held her son close to her chest with one arm while the other slung the dagger through orc flesh, covering herself and her offspring in gooey black blood.
Idhrenel drove her dagger into the chest of an orc, making it stumble. Another creature snuck up behind her, but she turned her body and sliced its arm from shoulder to wrist. All while these events were happening, Legolas kept his head tucked tightly into the crook of his mother's neck; he was petrified. The elfling's body shook with sobs and flinched every time he felt a new splatter of cold blood touch his exposed skin. "Nana has you, little leaf," Idhrenel breathed while driving her dagger into the leg of an orc. "I'm scared!" the elfling yelled, though it was muffled by his mother's neck. "I know, meleth nin. So am I."
The trees had called out to Thranduil, begging him to make haste to their Queen and Prince, but alas the Elvenking of Mirkwood was too late. The King's lieutenants followed the trail of slain orcs that were on their path as the frantic King begged his horse to go faster. He dismounted the golden horse he had taken in haste and took to foot, asking the trees to once again guide him to his wife and child. Every tree who had seen Idhrenel go up against the orc pack screamed at him; Thranduil's head started to ache from the voices and stress.
Thranduil walked forward, his feet dancing through the dead orcs spread across the ground. His heart was pounding and his breathing heavy. Not long after starting his walk, this King's eyes fell upon the worst sight he would ever see in his eternal life. He has seen death before and would continue to see it, but no death would haunt him like this. The Elvenking of Mirkwood would forever be haunted — asleep or awake — by the sight of his wife, cradling their weeping son in her limp arms, laying in a pool of thick black blood that mixed with thinner red blood — her blood — and a dagger — her dagger — through her side.
"Thranduil?" She whispered, her musical voice full of disbelief, raspy with pain. "Is it really you?" He is weeping, his mithril armour stained with blood and gore, though none of it seems to matter, other than the bright spots of red seeping from his love's broken body.
"It's me Idhrenel, I promise. Oh, mell-nín, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault- I shouldn't have left you both alone. Just hold on, the healers are coming, just a little longer, please." She coughed, crimson blood seeping out of her mouth. "It's not your fault melamin...I...I'm so sorry. But I don't think I can wait." His heart seems to freeze at the whispered words, and his voice is frantic when he spoke again. "No. Nononono. Just a little more Idhrenel, a few minutes, please. Stay, for me, for Legolas, for our son. He's so young Idhrenel, he can't grow up without you.. we were having another.." He mumbled the last part and she smiled weakly.
"I...I wish I could stay... to see him grow Thran. I love him so....much, just...just as much as I love you. My heart aches Thran, but I...I must go. I can hear the...the music of the halls, calling me and... I must obey. I love... you, forever. Tell...tell him I love him. More than anything melamin. More than life itself. I won't be alone I will be with your f-friend... Ê-Êlúriel..." Her voice is stronger as she gives him the message, her eyes shining with determination. For a moment, his heart swelled with hope, perhaps, she might live, just for those crucial few moments. Then the light fades from her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, so full of life and laughter and love. They are suddenly glassy, empty, devoid of the bright spirit that he loved so much.
Her hair lay splayed around her, indistinguishable from the blood that covers her. As he stood, staring at his life's blank eyes, he felt his heart freezing, the love inside being buried away, for how can he love when his everything is gone. In that moment, he hates his son for being the one that brought the last loving light to her eyes, the one her last words and thoughts were of. Thranduil's knees gave in and he fell to the soaked ground beside his late wife. His vision was overtaken by tears and his breathing uneven from sobs. He cradled the head of Idhrenel in his arms, willing her to sing one more song; to tell one more story; to laugh one last time. She did not obey; she laid lifeless in his arms.
This was the first and one of last days any inhabitant of Mirkwood would hear the Elvenking scream. Not once did he scream while fighting dragons and becoming the victim of their fire; not once did he scream while taking out spiders and orcs that crossed his lands; not once did he ever scream. Thranduil already felt himself succumbing to grief. His body grew weaker and colder as he held the delicate head of his wife close to his heart. However, before grief could take Thranduil, he was reminded of his son's presence; little quiet sobs and sniffles drew the elder elf from his grief. Legolas, partially covered in the same red and black blood as his mother, had his small head resting on her stomach. One of his fists clenched onto her gown as if letting go would immediately send her body to the Halls of Mandos.
If it had not been for the sobs of his son, Mirkwood would have lost both its King and Queen that fatal day. Thranduil closed his beloved's eyes and gave her a final kiss, filled with blood, dirt, and tears. He maneuvered her limp body off of his lap, reached for the elfling, and picked him up. Legolas' body continued to shake and his crying did not cease as his father pulled him close to his chest. He wrapped his small form around the elder and took in Thranduil's comforting scent, though it did little to calm his mind of the horrors he had witnessed. Thranduil held the last remaining piece of wife close to him, holding on for dear life. He could not let the grief of his wife's passing take him over while their son still drew breath; Legolas needed him now more than ever. He hoped Legolas was too young to remember this fatal day in the near and far future.
The Elvenking gave one final glance to his wife's slaughtered body before removing his eyes from the nightmare. None of his lieutenants had followed him into the clearing, sensing that something was wrong and that they should not interfere; Thranduil's scream had only solidified their senses.
Thranduil walked to the closest ellon, putting more walls than he ever had up; now was not the time for his kingdom to see their King weak and vulnerable. He ordered him to take her body and to bury it in an unmarked grave, far, far away from his palace. The King did not want her near, for the temptation to be vulnerable would linger forevermore; his hubris being his incapability to be shown as nothing but robust. At least without her resting place near, Thranduil could do his best to forget her memory.
The chosen lieutenant nodded his head in response, not being able to form words at what the King had just implied — the Queen was dead. Usually, Thranduil would have found it disrespectful for his lieutenants not to verbally respond to his commands, but today he could not muster the care; his only care right now was to be behind locked doors, alone. The King turned in the direction of the gates and walked towards the kingdom he once ruled not alone. He fought the urge to look back in the direction of his wife, refusing to allow himself one final glance; it would break him on the spot.
Thranduil forsook his horse and trekked the long path home on foot, holding his trembling son close to his heart. As he journeyed, sounds from his son grew quieter and the trees' laments louder. The Elvenking kept his head held high; he needed to seem strong for Legolas, and for Idhrenel. He then gave her knives to their son, for when he was old enough to wield them, thinking it was only right for him to carry his mother's protection with him, but he could not bear to think of her; the pain and the sorrow were still too near, and he froze his heart over instead. The death of the queen came as an unexpected loss the the whole of Mirkwood. One minute they saw her going for a quiet stroll with her son. Then she didn't return.
YOU ARE READING
till forever falls apart
FanfictionI didn't just lose you. I lost my entire life. This is my take on Thranduil and his wife before and after her death.
