To Live Again: Waiting Between Worlds {Lord of the Rings Fanfiction}

13. All is Well

The afternoon sun glitters beautifully across the marble bridges that connect the King's Halls to the wider forest. Everything seems to shimmer a warm golden hue - so telling of late and lazy Greenwood summers.

No clouds shadow the overhead crystal blue skies, nothing but a light breeze moves the very slightest of brush stroke wisps across the horizon.

The trees barely sway, only their green leaves rustle harmoniously creating a woodland song so perfect that not even an elven voice will interrupt it to sing. The vast array of birds and peaceful forest creatures add to the majestic symphony, and I wonder inwardly are they barely aware of how sublimely perfect their timing is. Do they know of whom their melodious welcome extends to...do they know the new King has come home?

Standing by the enchanted doors of our great home in the carven rock, I quietly scan the crowds before me. The sight of many green banners lifted high fills me with an unshakeable pride. Fair elven faces all turned away to the opening gates, each and every one of them standing tall to honour their returning warriors.

A silence has descended among the people as we all hold our breath in anticipation of what we might see when our army finally spills through those protective gates.

I barely notice that my fingers are in tight knots when Ollie stretches out and takes my hand with hers. The both of us look to each other for calm and strength in this moment, her beautiful turquoise eyes dazzle in her heart shaped face, her perfectly dimpled smile reminding me that I should do the same. So I breathe in deeply and paint a serene smile across my face.

Behind me I hear Gilron blow out a nervous sigh, and Tinuben murmurs something quietly which makes her chuckle. Calanon and Olben, along with the disgraced remnants of the council stand just slightly to my right and a few feet ahead. The noble lords should always be the first to meet their new Sovereign.

I have chosen to keep both the children out of the public eye for the moment. This is simply because they have been separated from their father for several long years. The moment of their reunion should be a private affair, without the prying eyes of the entire Kingdom watching them. I want to give Thranduil a minute to compose himself, this is surely overwhelming for him, and even more so when he sees the huge difference between the boy and the baby he left, and the youth and the child that he will meet now. No, I want that reunion to be just about family, no intrusions and no pretense, just us and what I hope to be many happy tears.

The drums suddenly sound, and the welcoming chorus of horns herald in the return of the soon to be King and his warriors. I am brought out of my thoughts with a jolt, and suddenly I am craning to see the approach of the army. My heart hammers loudly in my chest, and it takes all my self-control to instruct my feet to be still. Instead I smooth down the golden panel of my light mint dress, and continue to breathe deeply.

I must not show emotion, I must remain regal and composed; I must be strong for all of them. I must, I must, I must, I...

"Thranduil?" His name comes as a whisper from my lips, because I feel him. I feel that wonderful warmth of his energy flow to me, his calling feä so beautiful that my heart actually stutters and tightens in response. Tears prick my eyes as my toe inches forward - no I mustn't I must stay still.

It is so alien and unnatural for the elven spirit to resist its response to the call of their mate, that I actually feel a little disorientated. Ollie's hand tightens around mine again, but when I look at her this time I realize she to feels the same strain, and so we both resolve to hold each other back.

When I gain composure over my senses again I turn my eyes to the approaching mass of warriors. It strikes me that so few have returned - less than I would have anticipated after my intervening with the armour. Then I realise not all of the warriors can walk, and many are being transported in crudely constructed carts or stretchers. Many of the depleted stock of horses have been put to work hauling these carts, or carrying those not fit to walk. When I don't automatically see familiar faces I begin to panic, my serene smile slowly slipping into a frantic frown.