A shadow lies on Thranduil and his forest, and only a power stronger than the darkness of old can save them.
Grief and loss have turned him into a king with a heart of ice, and if he is ever to find redemption, the chains of guilt and remorse holdin...
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Tomorrow did come of course and when Anna awoke, still drowsy from her sleep, something in her bed was different. She wasn't alone. Oh, but it couldn't be, could it? He wouldn't just have left his kingly bed to sneak under her sheets now, would he? But who knew. Last night's passionate encounter had revealed to her the extent of Thranduil's desire, a crack in his ever so perfect composure pushing open the door towards many pleasurable delights. He had set her body on fire and then had left her burning for more, more of his delicious mouth and those wickedly skilful fingers. There couldn't have been any doubt about him wanting her, as she had felt the evidence of it, even through the layers of their clothes. His honour had, of course, overtaken whatever need had driven him, but what she had glimpsed beneath, was both dangerous and exhilarating and she could not get enough of that feeling, enough of him.
She shifted around under her snuggly covers, her eyes still closed and a sheepish smile dawning on her face. When she extended her arm, there was a warm shape beside her, a small and hairy shape. She squinted through one eye and a silent snort escaped her at the comical sight. It was of course not the Elvenking who had come to share her bed, but the ever so curious elk calf, who must have clambered into bed without her noticing it. She glanced at Aradan, snoring peacefully beside her and while her fingers combed lazily through the coarse coat of brown fur, her thoughts trailed to what this day would possibly bring: Thranduil's meeting with the wizard and with it hopefully the restoration of her memory. She turned sideways, propping herself up on one elbow to scratch Aradan behind one ear with her other hand, as she surveyed her room. Her room as she had come to call it, but surely it did not belong to her, just as much as she did not really belong here.
An ache tore through her chest at the thought of what the revelation of her past might entail. What if her only choice was to return to wherever she had come from? Would she even have the strength to turn away from the Elvenking? What if she broke not only his heart, but also sent him to his doom, the mysterious dragon fire slowly consuming him? Wasn't it her duty to help him, if there was anything at all that she could do for him? Not just her duty, but also what her heart commanded her to do. She turned around, laying on her back again, and stared at the ceiling, the thoughts swirling like murky waters in her head. Brethilwen had told her that she had powers that might be crucial to Thranduil's healing, but she had no idea what kind of power the healer had been referring to. For once Anna wished that elves would not be so fond of their cryptic ways of speaking. Maybe Gandalf finally would be able to help her clear this mess she had found herself in.
In the meantime Aradan had awoken and was now licking her hand, the tickling sensation bringing a smile to Anna's face.
"I assume you had a good night's sleep?" she said and when Aradan intensified his licking she finally pulled her hand away, wiping it on her covers, "but we might need to have these sheets changed." She frowned at the incredible amount of brown hair the elk calf had shed in a mere few hours.
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Following a soft knock on the door, Brethilwen swept into the room on a wave of dutiful business, balancing a tray of delicious food in her hands, and when she spotted Aradan curled up on the bed she mirrored Anna's grin.
