The Last Elf Queen of Arda

Chapter 25 - Son of the Greenwood

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"Ah, look who it is my little leaf...it's Ada!"

Anthelísse's words brought a smile to Thranduil's face like nothing else could. Taking off his crown and setting it aside, he went to join his wife and son in what served as indoor gardens for The Halls of the Woodland Realm.

A vast array of mosses grew over almost ever surface, cave-dwelling flora that emitted faint green luminescence. The Silvan elves of old had carved beautiful reliefs into the walls of the underground garden, most of which were now enhanced by the lichens which grew along their features. It was an ancient place, one of the hidden echoes of the earliest days of Arda.

They had first arrived at the entrance to the Halls nearly six months ago. The old bridge which at one time had allowed Silvan elves to pass over a small river between the path and the gates had long since crumbled. It had taken some improvisation with ropes and fallen tree trunks to get Gurithon and a number of his scouts onto the front stoop of the Halls. After great effort, they prised the faded stone doors open and disappeared into the shadows beyond.

It had been nearly two hours later when Gurithon's smiling face had reappeared through the crack in the doors. The Captain of the Guard had declared the Halls safe and unspoiled, just as the Silvan folk had left them thousands of years ago. Across the makeshift bridge, Thranduil and Anthelísse had led the people of the Greenwood into their new home.

In the days since, every elf had devoted themselves entirely to the long process of restoring the Halls of the Woodland Realm. Although no foul creatures such as orcs had breached the stone doors since they were sealed, a number of cave dwellers had taken up residence in hidden nooks and crannies. Many of these were left undisturbed; the Firstborn Children of Eru had always lived in harmony with the other inhabitants of the world. Some though like a colony of bats had to be encouraged to find other lodgings in less useful caverns. It would not do to have bat guano carpeting the floors of the cellars.

The sheer enormity of the task before them meant one unexpected but no less welcome reprieve for Thranduil; a break from the politics of governing. The council had little to no purpose without a realm to order, and so rather than sit about a polished table the various councillors applied themselves to their areas of interest. Daeris spent all her days and nights ensuring the vast cellars of the Halls were stocked and organized. Erchelil had almost immediately immersed herself in the process of taming the many wild fungi growing in the underground gardens. Daerchon likewise had a small army of elves under his direction, carefully shelving all the scrolls and books from Emyn Duir's library in their new homes. Although the Halls might disguise any signs of life from the outside, the many chambers within buzzed with activity rivaling that of an overturned anthill.

Thranduil for his part both welcomed and cursed the long, busy days. Always having something or other that demanded his attention kept his mind from his mother's departure not a month past. Nellas had slipped away quietly one evening, with but a horse and two other elves to accompany her to the Havens. She had said her final goodbyes to Thranduil, Anthelísse and Legolas in private. Then she was gone, the dancing green lights of her eyes swallowed by the forest as she rode. Thranduil did not begrudge his mother her final journey, but he missed her terribly all the same.

The long days were as much a burden as a relief though for the time that they kept Thranduil away from his family. Anthelísse was almost as busy as Thranduil if not more as of late; a newborn elfling demands only the highest levels of attention from their doting parents. Legolas seemed to be no exception to the rule. With every day their son grew brighter, more attentive and more curious about the world around him. It would not be long now before he might begin crawling about under his own power.