Alfýkin: The Last of the Elves

A Queen in the Making

"No! Absolutely not!" Nara shouted, bolting upright on the throne. She wore no crown as her coronation was three days away. Illeandir closed his eyes and sighed. He knew she would say no.

"I must leave," he said. Nara was shaking her head before he even finished. She stood and glared at him.

"I will not allow you to leave."

"Nara..." Illeandir began.

"You will address me as "Your Majesty"," Nara said.

"You are not yet queen, Nara," Illeandir stressed her name. Nara glared at him. "I do not answer to you."

"Who do you answer to then?"

"King Thranduil," Illeandir said. His home had been Mirkwood, now renamed Greenwood, while he yet lived with his mentor, and father-figure, Cúnor. He had personally met Thranduil during his accolade to become a soldier of Mirkwood. The noble king had left a deep impression on Illeandir that he still felt.

"How can you answer to a king who is dead?" Nara said. Illeandir flinched. Her words stung. Fighting anger he answered.

"I do not know that he is dead. And while I still hold that thread of hope he is my king and I answer to him alone!" Illeandir turned on his heel and strode out of the hall.

"Illeandir! Wait!" Nara shouted. Illeandir froze mid-stride and turned slowly toward the princess. She hurried after him. "I am sorry. I did not mean to anger you. Will you forgive me?" she pleaded.

"Your apology is duly noted. A queen knows to hold her tongue." Illeandir said. Nara hung her head. "You must also learn to see what others do and if you cannot, you must let them try to explain." he paused and waited. Nara sighed.

"You search still for your kin."

"Yes. I will not give up until I see their bodies dead before me. Every last one."

"What are they like?" Nara asked.

"What do you speak of?"

"Your dreams. What are they like?" she asked. Illeandir stiffened, Nara could almost see his mind closing. The muscles in his jaw knotted and flexed as he stared straight ahead.

"They are... disturbing." He would give no further information. His distress was palpable. Respecting his reluctance to speak of it she said nothing more, though she wished he would tell her. If not her then Ithilwen. But from what her friend had told her, Ithilwen knew as little as she, that the dreams were no ordinary terrors of the imagination but of something far greater. What that was remained a mystery, perhaps even to Illeandir.

"That is not the only reason I must leave." Illeandir said after a while. His eyes roamed over the white ceiling and marble statues lining the hall. "The people look for someone to blame for Eldarion's death. They will blame me."

"Impossible! How could they be so blind as to think you would have done it?"

"It is human nature to lay blame on what they do not understand. You cannot change it nor can you deny it. I know that at least once you considered that."

Guilt filled Nara, he was right. Yesterday morning after storming away from him, childish thoughts of him planning to overthrow her and take the crown for himself filled her mind. Though, admittedly, he was probably fully capable of doing so but she could not see him doing that. He was a free spirit, not to be bound by the demands of the court and kingdom.

"I am sorry for what I said to you yesterday." Nara said.

"You were not yourself."

"You forgive me?"