The Hobbit - The Desolation of Smaug Edition (ON HOLD)

7. Gems of Pure Starlight

I have watched The Battle of the Five Armies and I'm sad, so here you go...

Also, next chapter Aria will meet Thranduil.

Enjoy.

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Veiling behind the two great gates some miles within the edge of Mirkwood, lie a tremendous kingdom – caves hewn out of a cave of caves, transforming a cavernous space of shadow and light seeping through the ceiling covered by tall and ancient beeches. Their trunks grew wide and large, their roots disappearing into the depth below ground where a stream billowed throughout the vast kingdom of Mirkwood. Up high in such branches, this is where the Elves of Mirkwood enjoyed their time best – this is where they inhabited, and this is why beeches came to be their favorite trees. Their thick, secure bark shielding them from the terrors of Middle Earth. 

The gloom light of this cave created miles and miles of space deeper within this kingdom. It undulated in great beauty – as the creatures who built it. This was the Woodland Realm of the Silvan Elves beginning in the Second Age, and on the eastern side of Mirkwood lived at this time, their greatest king. 

Before the huge doors of stone cloaking his kingdom, a river ran out through the expand of the forest and gushed on and out into the marshes at the feet of the high wooded lands. 

This great cave, from the likes of which countless minor ones opened up behind every nook and corner of the kingdom, wound far below ground and contained many pathways and wide halls. However, the likes of this kingdom was brighter, considering the evening-light streaming through the cavernous ceiling, and more wholesome than any goblin-dwelling, and neither was it quite so deep nor so dangerous. 

This palace was his strong hold of his treasures, his home, his sanctuary his assemblage of present and lost memories, and the fortress of his people against their enemies. This is where this one king would rule for the ages to come. 

In the greatest cave-like hall of his kingdom, on a high throne hewn from the beeches and elk horns, he rested his magnificent frame upon – taller than any Elf known of his kin. His back rested askew against the back-rest of carven wood, one leg relaxed over the other – still as a windless day, calm as weather after storm. His body was covered in the finest cloaks and material crafted by the skill of his subjects and the shimmer of starlight. His hands radiated and reflected the brilliance of his kingdom – those beautiful, soft hands of a king, thus these were the hands of a healer, and thus shall the rightful king be known.  Within his right palm, which laid rested upon his armrest of his throne, his fingers clutched a carven staff of oak. His left hand was crested in jewels and rings of sapphires and rubies. On his head was a crown of berries and red leaves, for the autumn was come again. This precious, delicate ornament was placed upon a head of the purest silver-colored hair, shaping a stunning face with pointy ears reaching through his silver-curtains, snow-white skin and dark-icy eyebrows above ice cold, blue eyes. His beauty was alike none else, but his offsprings. His eyelashes were long and dark, his lips shaped into butterfly wings. His gaze was intense as he stared out into the void of his vast cavern, his eyes so cold, his conscious locating the interlopers of his realm, lips parted and uttered one single name that had been gnawing an intractable hole within his gut for years without pause, and his ice-colored eyes lit a spark,

“Vanima...” 

The dungeons were yet another cavernous space within the kingdom of the Silvan Elves – deep, deep beneath the hall of the King, hidden away from the evening-light of the day. One by one, the company were shoved behind bars made out of thick steel inside a hole of carven stone – all except one. The furious growls and locking of the cell doors had begun to fill the air in great echoes against the walls of the kingdom. The Silvan Elves wielded bow, arrows and lengthy blades, and towered above the company, including Aria who were grasped in Legolas' arms, as they guided them up and down the staircases of stone, and were thrown into the rock-space prisons.