Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE
The green, leafy surroundings flashed past as the elleth hurtled through the woods, frantically trying to outrun her pursuers. The woodlands were dense around her; branches catching on her skirts and her body as she ran. Her chest hurt as she panted hard for breath, and her legs ached. Her head whipped round to measure how much distance there was between herself and her predators, her heart falling as she realised the gap between them was closing rapidly.
She pushed on, her heart pounding and her lungs burning. Sounds of the large beasts crashing through the undergrowth behind her filled her ears, causing her terror to spike even higher. She elbowed her way through the foliage, grabbing branches and using them to propel her body faster. The ground beneath her feet was slippery from recent rain, and she slid as she fought for purchase.
Scrambling quickly up the embankment that loomed up in front of her, she grasped exposed roots and hauled herself up towards the crest. Branches behind her snapped as heavy bodies charged after her, a heavy stench filling the surrounding air. Growls and distorted speech filtered past her as she fled for her life.
She was almost at the top when something grabbed her ankle, and she fell with a scream. The air around her split as an arrow flew past her and the grip loosened instantly. She flipped forwards and continued to make for safety as she caught sight of several armed patrol guards lining up their arrows. The succession of missiles shot by and they hurried past her, sliding down the muddy slope with swords drawn. The deafening clash of steel echoed through the woods, accompanied by war cries and screams of death.
She fell to her knees at the top of the embankment, dirty, soaked, and exhausted.
Almost immediately, hands gripped her upper arms and dragged her to her feet, and she found herself being led through the forest, held on either side by guards.
*****
Thranduil lazed on his throne, his disdainful gaze sweeping the vast, cavernous area. His ice blue eyes settled on the captain of the patrol unit that had returned in the last half hour as he hurried along the walkway towards him. He crossed one long leg over the other as he awaited the guard’s approach, casually drumming his fingers on the arm of the throne.
“My Lord,” the captain greeted him, sinking down onto one knee and bowing in respect.
“What news is there from your patrol?” the King asked, his tone bored already.
The captain rose to his feet. “We have apprehended a trespasser,” he informed him.
One heavy eyebrow arched in interest.
“An elleth,” the guard continued. “She was being hunted by a group of orcs.”
“And what became of them?” Thranduil asked.
“We slaughtered them at the scene,” he replied. “The prisoner is down in the lower hall under guard, my Lord.”
The King inhaled through his nose. What was a lone elleth doing in his forest? And why was she being hunted? “Very well. Bring her to me for questioning,” he commanded. “I wish to hear what she has to say.”
“Very good, my Lord,” the captain answered with a bow, and swiftly retraced his steps.
Thranduil watched him disappear from sight, his mind curious.
Before long, the guard returned, accompanied with another. Between them, they marched a ragged elleth. The group came to a few steps away from the base of his throne, awaiting instruction.
He stared down at them. The guards stood proud, uniform in their stance and purpose. The elleth however, had her head lowered and her gaze turned downwards, her hands clasped before her.
The minutes ticked past.
“Leave us,” he ordered, after a long silence.
The elleth’s head lifted ever so slightly in surprise, but not enough to look up at him.
The guards silently retreated.
He stood, not taking his eyes from her. Slowly descending the steps, he noted her posture, the slight tremble in her body, her shaky breathing. Slow, deliberate steps carried him down to where she stood, and he stopped.
And waited.
She remained as still as a statue, not daring to make a sound in case she infuriate the ruler of the realm. Many stories had circulated the lands of his temper, his lack of compassion, and his disdain for trespassers and strays. Her hands clasped tighter together, a move which his sharp gaze picked up on immediately.
Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved.
Finally, he broke the silence. “You can come out now, little one,” he said, his deep, velvet voice filling the surrounding area. “I do not intend to harm you or your mother.”
Her head shot up and her astonished eyes met ice blue, his intense stare sending a shiver up her spine.
Her skirts rustled after a few moments, and his gaze dropped to a small child who peered cautiously at him. Long dark hair that was badly needing washed and brushed tumbled down the child’s back. Large eyes in a shade of dark blue held his, wide in both innocence and apprehension. Thick, dark lashes framed her eyes. Plump rosy cheeks and a little button nose set over a full mouth completed her face.
The elleth instinctively dropped her hand to rest on the child’s head. “Do what you wish with me, my Lord,” she whispered. “But please spare my daughter.”
Thranduil continued to hold the youngster’s gaze. “I have no desire to bring harm to either of you,” he replied. “It is not my intention to hurt either children or females.”
The child gazed at him, and he felt himself drawn deeper into the blue. He saw the expression slowly change, the fear slowly dissipating, to be replaced with curiosity. That too gradually changed, as she carefully untangled herself from her mother’s dress.
Still not breaking their visual connection, she slowly walked towards him, ignoring her mother’s horrified admonishment. His head lowered as she came to a stop at his side, as he towered over her tiny form.
She blinked, and instantly he could see the trust in the depths of her eyes. Her small hand lifted and she slid it in into his much larger one, clasping her fingers tightly around his. Still those trusting, innocent eyes held his.
He finally looked up at the elleth, who was shocked at her daughter’s actions.
“Please forgive us, my Lord,” she said hurriedly.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he replied. “You and the child have my protection. You will both bathe and have fresh clothing, and then I will send for you. I have questions, to which I will have answers.”
“Yes, my Lord,” she replied, bowing her head.
He lifted his free hand and signalled, after which distant footsteps could be heard hastening towards them. Speaking in his own tongue, he told the guard to escort the elleth and her child to bathe, giving them two maids to take care of them. The guard bowed and gestured for them to accompany him.
Thranduil looked down at the little girl, who seemed reluctant to leave. He slowly crouched down onto his heels, so he was level with her. “Go with your mother, little moonbeam,” he said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Go and bathe, put a pretty dress on, and I shall give you some food.”
She blinked, and he could almost see the cogs in her mind turning. Those dark blue eyes were almost assessing his, as though she was trying to figure out if he was being honest and truthful with her.
“Tarellethiel, come!” the child’s mother urged.
She hesitantly released his hand, slowly backing away from him before turning to face her slightly panicked parent.
He rose back to his full height, a smirk hovering around his mouth as he watched the trio walk away. The child glanced back at him over her shoulder several times, to be quickly scolded by her mother.
That evening, mother and child joined him for dinner, which he chose to have in his private dining area away from the others in the palace. He wanted both females to feel at ease if he was to obtain answers, and knew that the bustling environment of the banquet hall would not be adequate.
The elleth, who had revealed her name to be Caladwen, sat on his adjacent left at the table. Her daughter, Tarellethiel, made a point of dragging her chair closer to him and seating herself on his right.
“You were most fortunate to be found by my patrol,” he said, partway through their meal. “The orcs they slaughtered were almost upon you, from what my captain informs me.”
“Yes,” Caladwen nodded. “They had been chasing us most of the way through the forest. I thought several times that I had managed to lose them, but I had not.”
“The forest holds many dangers,” he said, his glance falling to the child beside him. He watched as she cut a potato in half, carefully lifted one half and put it on his plate, her dark blue eyes lifting to his.
“I have more than you do,” she said quietly.
He lifted his knife and sliced a peach in half, setting one piece on the table next to her plate. “Now we have the same,” he told her.
She nodded solemnly, turning her attention back to her plate.
“The orcs are merely one in an endless list of beasts that scourge my lands and take what they can,” he continued, turning back to Caladwen. “I am amazed the spiders had not reached you, as you were not far from where they prefer to nest.”
“I have been very lucky, my Lord,” she replied.
“May I ask what it was that you were fleeing from?” he asked, and she knew this was a question that demanded a reply.
“My husband, myself, and Tarellethiel lived in a small settlement close to East Rohan,” she told him. “It was my husband’s wish to travel to the Misty Mountains to make our home.”
Thranduil frowned. “That is a long and dangerous journey,” he said. “Especially with a young child. How did you manage to flee from the orcs with her?”
“I lifted her and she wrapped her arms and legs around me,” she replied. “I carried her at my front, lest they shot any arrows. If they did, they would have hit me instead of my daughter.”
“A brave, selfless move,” he acknowledged. “But still a dire journey to undertake.”
Sadness filled her eyes as she nodded. “My husband perished shortly after we set off, leaving us to continue our journey alone.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” he said. “What are your intentions?”
“I hope to continue to the Mountains,” she answered. “My husband thought that Tarellethiel would have a better life there. I feel obliged to carry on with his wish.”
“You are both more than welcome to stay here and rest, at least until the worst of the weather passes,” he said. “The oncoming winter promises to be harsh, and I fear neither of you would endure travelling in such conditions.”
“I thank you for your gracious offer, my Lord,” Caladwen said. “But I do not wish to impose on your kind hospitality any more than I already have.”
“Nonsense,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. “I have a son who must be of age as this little one; I am sure they would play well together.” He glanced down at Tarellethiel, whose blue eyes regarded him.
“I must apologise, my Lord,” Caladwen said. “My daughter appears to be fascinated by you. I am most ashamed.”
“Why? The innocent curiosity of elflings is to be encouraged, else they will not learn,” he said. “And it is clear that this little moonbeam is exceptionally curious.” He smiled down at her, and she smiled back.
And so it continued.
Everywhere Thranduil went, Tarellethiel scampered alongside, usually dragging Legolas in tow. When the young Prince was resting or doing something she didn’t want to participate in, she would still follow the King everywhere, much to her mother’s embarrassment.
The winter months set in, bringing a heavy snowfall and biting cold temperatures. Intensely glad she had accepted the offer to stay until better weather, Caladwen searched every corner of the palace for her wayward child.
She entered the King’s study after knocking on the door and he bid her to enter. Inside, he sat on the other side of a massive polished desk, surrounded by piles and piles of parchments, a quill in one hand.
She stopped, mortified.
Tarellethiel sat cross-legged on the table, watching him, and taking documents as he signed them and placing them one on top of the other.
Her mother’s jaw dropped.
“Let her be,” Thranduil said. “Legolas is feeling a little unwell today, so she is my assistant while he rests.” He signed yet another parchment with a flourish, handing it to the little girl. She twisted and placed it carefully on the growing pile.
“I hope she is not keeping you from your duties, my Lord,” Caladwen stated.
“Not at all,” he replied, lifting his eyes to hers with a genuine smile. “She is making a somewhat boring, mundane task more enjoyable.”
The elleth nodded once, and left, closing the door behind her.
Another time, she found the King striding through his halls, his long cloak trailing along the floor behind him. Both Legolas and Tarellethiel sat on the tails of the cloak, laughing hysterically at being transported through the palace in such a style.
The King’s personal guards grew accustomed to seeing the elflings together, usually getting up to some sort of mischief or trouble. Caladwen found the two of them leaping around on the King’s bed, having a pillow-fight, which only paused as the young Prince’s pillow burst and scattered feathers in all directions.
Thranduil had turned away in silent laughter, while Legolas immediately grabbed a replacement pillow and went back to tackling his friend.
Day after day Caladwen went hunting for her daughter, and day after day she found her sometimes with Legolas, always with Thranduil. Some days she would be found sitting on the arm of his throne, carefully braiding his long blond hair while he sat patiently still. Or sitting cross-legged on the floor of the library arguing with Legolas over how to pronounce a word in a book. Sometimes they were playing chase around the council meeting room, crawling through the legs of the assembled Lords seated around the long table.
Other times they were up to no good.
Pouring honey into Thranduil’s riding boots.
Hiding his swords.
Moving things in his study so he had to search for them.
Borrowing his winter crown and climbing up onto the antlers of his throne, perching it on the top.
Thranduil called their antics harmless fun, and didn’t seem to be one bit put out by their nonsense. He took everything in his stride, and always seemed to have both endless time and patience with both his little shadows. Even the guards appeared to accept their mischief when the pair brought a stag into the palace and set it free, causing carnage as it crashed through the halls. The guards simply banded together and rounded the animal back outside.
Tarellethiel flourished over the winter months.
She was fond of Legolas, but more so of his father. Every night her mother had trouble persuading her to take her leave and retire for the night, and often the King himself delivered her to her room. He spent countless hours with both elflings, helping them with their reading, and encouraging them with their sword practice, using sticks.
Thranduil’s life was never to be the same again.