The Last Elf Queen of Arda

Chapter 9 - The King is Dead

OoOoO

The forest city of the Woodland Realm lay nestled in the arms of the Black Mountains, a small but imposing mountain range in the heart of the Greenwood. A single, sloping road led the way up from under the canopy to higher ground. It was the only entrance to Oropher's capital, guarded by a set of black iron gates wrought in spiraling vines and ornate thorns. Even from beyond the gates the city was visible as it spanned the mountain hollow. Its design was not unlike Menegroth, the 'Thousand Caves' of Doriath where Oropher had spent his youth. Unlike Menegroth though, much of the city of Emyn Duir was located on the mountainside rather than within it. When planning its design, the late king had taken much inspiration not only from Menegroth but also from Gondolin.

Perhaps that was why Anthelísse felt Emyn Duir to be a strangely familiar place as they approached with the returning Greenwood army. She had never been to these parts of Arda before, and yet the mountainside city beckoned invitingly as their horses climbed the steep road toward it.

As though by some unforeseen force, the wrought iron gates fell back silently before Thranduil when his horse approached. Trees grew upon the Black Mountains nearly to their summits, and even upon the mountainside their way was shaded in green. Gurithon held the banner of the Greenwood high as the new king led his warriors home.

The street on either side was lined by buildings both elegant and fair. Ivy twined thickly along their walls, and springs of clear water trickled hidden out of sight. As the army road ever upwards through the city, elves began to emerge from their niches and gather.

There was no shouting, no calling out from the Greenwood elves as they filled the streets. The price of victory was clear for all to see. Many times Anthelísse saw an elleth or ellon rush out from inside a home with a smile, only to watch it die as the solemn procession passed.

Murmurs of "The king is dead" began to spread throughout the people. All watched with pale faces as Thranduil rode at the head of the army in the place where Oropher had been expected. There were more than a few eyes on Anthelísse and her company as well, marking well the blue banner of the Noldor that her servant Varnon carried.

Then came the realization that it was not just Oropher who was absent from the survivors. One by one, families searched for and missed members among the columns of soldiers. Weeping could be heard somewhere among the crowd, a sound that only grew as the gates swung shut behind the last of the returning elves.

By the time they reached the steps of the palace of Emyn Duir, a silence as deep and still as death had fallen upon the entire populace. Many holding one another for support in their grief, the elves of the Greenwood gathered around the mountain courtyard behind the army. All eyes were on Thranduil as he slid down from his horse and climbed halfway up the steps.

Dismounting herself, Anthelísse silently gathered her dozen followers about her and waited. She would wait for a formal invitation before approaching the palace of the Woodland Realm. Together, the handful of Noldo placed themselves to one side of the assembly. Anthelísse gazed toward the palace and felt her heart leap to her throat as she spied an approaching elf woman. This must be the queen; Oropher's wife and Thranduil's mother.

The royal lady was somewhat short for an elf. Her long hair shone burnished brown in the setting sunlight, and her face though unlined as was the way of the Eldar radiated both great age and bravery. She wore a gown of a deep mossy hue, embroidered with what appeared to be stylized dragons across the collar. She looked quite Silvan, although Anthelísse suspected the queen was more likely Sindarin by the set of her green eyes. Looking between mother and son, Anthelísse thought that Thranduil had taken after his father almost entirely in looks.