Chapter Text
The wind whistled past Legolas' elven ears as his sharp eyes surveyed the woodland from his tree top perch. The season was at the point of change, winter had begun to leave Middle Earth; the thick blanket of snow that had covered the land was starting to thaw, patches of green grass begun to show itself. Small clusters of bluebells and snowdrops had started to sprout from the earth, a herald to the arriving spring. Once this time of year would have brought much joy to Legolas as the land became once more full of life; but not this spring. This spring was barely noticeable to him, for all he felt was an all consuming grief for a love that he had left behind in Imladris a year ago; it spread through his heart like the darkness that spread through Mirkwood.
She had never left his thoughts; try as he might to banish her from them. His heart was full of a love he could no longer express or share, and therefore felt heavy in his chest, weighing him down. Since he had returned home, he had carried on as before, but his heart was no longer in anything that he did. His kinsfolk found him distant and withdrawn, a shadow of what he was once.
King Thranduil watched his son with growing concern; for once he was unsure what to do. He truly believed that what he had done was the best for the couple. He had thought that it was just an infatuation and that with a little distance it would fade but it had not. He could not bear that his only son would experience the same kind of heart break that he had to endure.
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The young elf looked across the pale blue waters of the sea of the Gulf of Lune. The summers evening was warm and still, the waters gently lapping the pale golden shore. In the background he could hear elven harps being played, slow and melodic. He had dwelt in Lindon for many centuries now, with the High elven Lord Gil-galad. His father had sent him there whilst he set up a colony in the Great Greenwood. The coastal abode had truly become his home, the land beyond the Erud Luin, the Blue Mountains in the northwest. It was a vast land divided by the Gulf of Lune, Forlindon in the north, Harlindon in the south, Mithlond stood at the mouth of the River Luin that opened out into the Gulf.
Most of the Noldor dwelt in the northern section of Forlindon, whilst the Sindar mainly dwelt in Harlindon. Together, under Gil-galad's guidance they built Mithlond, the final point of transition where elves could depart the world of Middle Earth to Arda, the undying lands. Thranduil's gaze looked out from the harbour across the quiet waters, in the direction of Arda, home of the Valar.
He loved the sea and its freedom, its tranquil beauty and its sometimes stormy power, as all elves he had a great pull to the sea. His father Oropher however, preferred the green of the forests, where he dwelt in Greenwood the Great with his mother Valossfaerial. He had not seen them for many years and decided that he should go to them soon. A change of scene might do him good he considered, as of late he felt almost weary. He did not know what it was but he had begun to feel as though something was missing in his life, as though things had become stale. It was unlike him; he took much joy from a great many things and devoted much time to study and music. These feelings unsettled him.
Some weeks later, Thranduil arrived in the realm that his father ruled. The forests were green and lush, the air smelt thick and scented with pine and rhododendron. Although it had been many years, Thranduil still knew his way through the woods, as if by instinct. He could see why many of the elves had felt drawn to the woods on their journey to the undying lands, and decided to settle there. Years later, elves from the ruin of Doriath, the Sindar also joined the already settled elves, growing the woodland colony further. Its wide halls and aisles were the haunt of many beasts and birds of bright song.
Later that night a great feast was held to celebrate Thranduil's presence. All the elves gathered outside, it being a mild midsummer's eve, the air was warm and balmy, the sun just setting. Oropher and Velossfaerial had been delighted at Thranduil's visit, and gave him a welcome fit for a Prince. The Silvan elves were known for their feasts and partied where the wine flowed generously. The air was alive with the noise of the forest, the chirping and buzzing of insects, and the laughter and music of the elves.
As the sun began to say goodnight to the world, her sister the moon began to appear; a giant pearl against the darkening sky. As if on cue a hush fell over the gathering. As if out of nowhere, an elven maiden appeared at the end of the table. She was clothed in a pale white diaphanous gown that gathered around her feet; the moonlight seemingly radiating from her. Thranduil's breath caught in his throat, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. Her hair was a pale gold, hanging loose around her shoulders, her eyes like stars within the pale ivory skin of her delicate face. She was tall and slender, her movements graceful and elegant, and then she began to sing. Her voice carried across the forest, soft and ethereal, possessing a calm power.
"Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together!
The wind's in the tree-top, the winds in the heather;
The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,
And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.
Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!
Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!
The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;
Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.
Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!
Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!
The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!
Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!
Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!
Fall Moon! Dark be the land!
Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!
Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!"
Thranduil was transfixed with the elven maiden, and it saddened his heart when she had finished singing.
"Who is she?" Thranduil asked his mother, the regal Velossfaerial.
"Her name is Eleniel," his mother replied, surprised at his interest.
Thranduil had never chosen a spouse, like most of his peers when he had come of age at fifty years old so his sudden interest surprised his mother.
"She is very young, not yet sixty years old," explained his mother, her face youthful yet wise with her years. "She is the daughter of Lady Menel and Lord Bainor. She has the fairest voice of all the elves of Greenwood and is one of our most skilled archers."
Thranduil's eyebrows raised in surprise at the information he had just received.
"The grace of the Valar is truly upon her," commented Thranduil, still looking in Eleniel's direction, as she sat with her family.
Velossfaerial smiled subtly to himself.
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The next morning Thranduil awoke early, he could not sleep. All night Eleniel had been upon his thoughts, her song playing over and over in his mind. The summer dawn was still cool, dew collecting in droplets on the leaves of the undergrowth. The forest seemed to glisten, and the morning chorus was in full swing. Thranduil dressed in a pale green silken tunic, light and flowing; headed out into the forest. The air was fresh and cool, he breathed in the floral scent, mingling with the oak and pine. His fingers gently brushed over the petals of a small blue flower that grew on a shrub, the petals velvety and soft. Thranduil sighed, this place was indeed beautiful. Just then, Thranduil's sharp ears picked up on a soft melodic sound in the distance. He paused to listen; it was someone singing and he was most sure of whom it was; he knew few that had a voice like that.
He followed the direction of the voice until he came to a stream, where upon a fallen tree trunk sat Eleniel. Dressed in a flowing gown the colour of a winter's morning sky, she sat with her delicate bare feet in the trickling stream as she was drying her hair, squeezing the moisture from it. She sensed his approach and stopped singing, a little startled. Thranduil held up his hands apologetically.
"Goheno nin; I lireg ni phrestant." ("Forgive me but your song moved me.")
"Le fael," she replied her voice light and musical, her bright blue eyes examining him carefully. "Ni veren an gi ngovaned." ("Thank you. I am happy to meet you.")
Eleniel rose from her perch on the fallen tree and headed over to him. Thranduil marvelled that her every movement was graceful, like a dance. Although elegant and graceful, Thranduil could also detect a hint of mischief within her features. She curtsied formally before him.
"Cund vell." ("Beloved Prince.")
"There is no need for that my Lady," said Thranduil, a little embarrassed.
Eleniel smiled brightly.
"Well you are a Prince my Lord, I would not have wished to offend your noble sensibilities."
Thranduil's serious face looked a little taken back and puzzled until he saw a smile creep upon Eleniel's mouth; she was teasing him. He looked down upon her, a frown across his forehead. At first she thought she had crossed the line and became a little unsure, until he broke into a shy tentative smile.