Lord of the Wars

Chapter 2

Pine was sharp—the air was fresh, clean, again. Light filtered in through the branches' fingers without hindrance. Constant gray clouds no longer cast an eerie darkness.

No longer Mirkwood nor Greenwood the Great, but Eryn Lasgalen now.

Every day since the One Ring had been destroyed and Middle-earth free of Sauron and his minions, Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, ventured from the palace walls to wander the forest. Never did he fathom the forest returning to its former glory, as like in the days of his father, Oropher. About 3033 years ago.

He placed a hand against a giant tree's bark, now a perfect brown. Healthy.

Not graying, sick. Choking from psychedelic fungi for tainted, mind-altering air. And certainly not harboring giant spiders and their dense webs. Everywhere he looked, he could no longer see any evidence of their existence. No web sacks holding small animals; no sticky snares entrapping loose leaves.

Two squirrels scampered along the ground, chasing the other. Bird song echoed through the lush branches. Pure life thrived, as it should in all forests.

The world was nearly perfect once more.

Nearly.

Thranduil closed his eyes, pretending his wife walked beside him. Ellerin. How he loved her! But he had forbade her many times from speaking of her people, those kinslayers. She continuously imposed her Noldor teachings on his people. He agreed to one suggestion—using the Dwarves of Erebor to craft his palace sequestered underground, hidden in rock—but all others he denied. Their quarrels seemed never-ending.

If only she had obeyed him... respected his wishes... perhaps she would have found happiness living as queen of the Wood-elves. If only she had not sung the Noldolantë, the Fall of the Noldor, and they had not shared those regrettable words... she would not have left to sail West. She would be here, brimming with joy and pride for their son, Legolas.

Perhaps.

He released the breath he held and opened his eyes.

Alas, he could not change the past.

But then again, if changing the past altered the years following it, he would leave it be. As in the destruction of the One Ring five years ago and Legolas' heroic part in the Fellowship. If keeping her meant their son forever living in a world threatened, or even ruled, by Sauron, he'd choose their son's peace.

Along with the rest of Arda's.

He shook his head at himself. Before Dol Guldur was cleansed of the Necromancer, Thranduil cared less of other lands' troubles. The Elves living in Mirkwood were his sole concern. It took the Battle of the Five Armies, the battle under the trees and the War of the Ring during the Third Age for him to reconsider—

A gale suddenly blew through the wood, picking up leaves, and rustling the canopy far overhead. Thranduil jolted still.

He could sense the changing in the air; feel trepidation in the trees. The previous lively noise of the forest had silenced. The ground shuddered.

"Aran nîn?" asked in Sindarin as he and hurried to him, alarmed and looking for the danger. His personal guard never let him out of their sight, even in this time of peace.

"Tôl elegren," he said and rushed back to the palace gates; his guards a step behind.

Aran nîn – my king

Tôl elegren – strange comes (Something different comes)