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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Are you ready for the fluff? Because this chapter is full of it! Enjoy and happy holidays! 🦌⛄️🎄
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Life was now infinitely better for the Elvenking. Thranduil might have been an ancient elf, but since his soul bond with Anna, he felt he had the renewed strength and energy of a young ellon. If it hadn't been for his royal duties, he would have been perfectly content to stay in bed with her until exhaustion would claim them both. He loved everything about her, the way she moved against him, the way she said his name when she went over the edge, the way she curled up in his arms afterwards, her warm breath tickling his neck.
He had caught himself silently admiring her delicately pointed ears, the visible proof that she had been granted a new life, and his heart sped up every time he realised how incredibly lucky they both were. This time he would do the right thing. He would not let anything nor anyone allow to get between them, no dark lord and no shiny gems. This he had vowed to himself while he had made love to her and Anna had practically glowed from within as their bodies and souls had found each other again and again.
He smiled quietly to himself while he half-listened to Galion laying out the rather dull plans for the feast that was to be held in two days. It seemed ages away when he had greeted his son and his returning army at the gates, yet it had been only a fortnight ago. So much had changed in those few days and so much was still to be done in preparation for the feast that it had to be pushed back to give everyone in the palace time to adapt to the new situation.
"My lord?" Galion looked up from the parchment in his hands from which he had been reading for — for how long exactly? Thranduil's thoughts had strayed yet again to the way Anna's mouth had felt on certain parts of his body.
"Yes?" Thranduil subtly tilted his head, feigning interest in the details of seating arrangements and dinner choices. Hopefully he hadn't missed anything important.
Galion let out a small sigh and frowned. "I was just asking your opinion on whether Mithrandir and Master Baggins are to be invited to the feast and should you wish so, where should they both be seated?"
Thranduil pinched the bridge of his nose. Did he really have to answer this question? Moreover, did he really have to invite the two of them to this feast? The answer was crystal clear, no matter if he liked it or not.
"Yes, invite Master Baggins," he said, resigned to the prospect of having to play host for this overtly talkative fellow for a little while longer. "I am sure that Anna would want to see him partaking in the celebrations, just make sure you sit him far enough away from us." Far away preferably being his hobbit hole, but he kept that to himself. "Despite his inclination to talk too much, he has shown her nothing but kindness and it is because of him that the battle at Erebor could be tilted in our favour."
