Kingsfoil [Thranduil] LOTR

Blessed

Dear Readers, thank you once again for the incredible love and support you have shown Kingsfoil!

Here are some important dates from the final days of the War of the Ring that Tolkien gives readers in his LOTR appendices:

March, 3019:

15th - Battle under the Trees in Mirkwood and Lothlorien attacked.

17th - Brand and Dain are slain in battle against the Easterlings, and Bard and Thorin's forces retreat into the Mountain.

18th - The Host of the West (Aragorn & co.) leaves Minas Tirith to march on the Black Gate.

22nd - Third attack on Lothlorien. Celeborn's army crosses the Anduin to storm Dol Guldur.

25th - Sauron destroyed.

Four hundred years ago...

. -  .  -  .

Her sister was the worst. "The absolute worst," Narylfiel complained aloud to Legolas on their way out of his father's halls. Narylfiel pulled her hair into a sloppy braid as they walked. "If she gets onto me about my hair one more time! I know she's your wife, and you love her, but honestly, you are so lucky to have been an only child, Legolas."

The prince did not respond; they had reached the front gate, and both elves fell silent as they waited politely for the guards to open the door. Once they crossed out into the wide sunshine warming the bridge, Legolas spoke: "I envy you and your sister. Even with the occasional misunderstanding, you are both blessed to have one another."

Narylfiel stopped beside him, instantly regretting her words. "Oh, Legolas. I am sorry."

He turned where he stood, his eyes reminding her so much of his father's, dark wells of blue tinged with unnamed sorrow. Legolas only shrugged then with a wan smile. "Don't be, Narylfiel. It is hardly your fault."

"Did you ever..." she hesitated, but then Legolas answered for her, guessing her intent.

"I asked once when I was young," he said. "My father overheard my prayers to the Valar. I had spent the better part of a year asking for a baby sister."

"What did he say?"

"He didn't want to talk about it," he told her, "but I think he would have loved to have more children. I used to watch him on Feast Days, and he always planned surprises for the elflings of the kingdom."

Narylfiel thought for a moment as they resumed their walk into the forest and then slipped her smaller hand into his larger one. "Legolas," she said shyly. "I think the Valar did hear your prayers."

"Oh?" he enquired.

"For a little sister," she clarified and waited.

"Narylfiel," he began, a smile playing on his lips as he watched her walk beside him, matching him stride for stride, her hand in his. "I think they did too."

. -  .  -  .

March 16th, 3019

The king and queen of the Woodland Realm both slept, dozing off and on and then off again. The bed was not the softest, nor the linens the finest, and the sharp tang of smoke still hung in the air, but Thranduil and Narylfiel both slept better than they had since parted. For her, it was the comfort afforded by the feel of his arm curled protectively over her stomach; for him, it was the softness of her hair against his cheek. Even when Thranduil woke later and half-contemplated rising to check in with how Beriadan's efforts at clearing the forest progressed, he could not bring himself to leave her. Instead, he traced lazy circles on her hip, palming the warmth between the blanket and her skin.