Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

43. Miruvor

It is not long before Thranduil remembers.

The Lórien messengers, and the battle preparations, and the Woodland horn warning, and the unexpected attack. He soon remembers it all, save for his injury. I tell him what I know, the good news and the bad, and more than once I try to prevent him from leaving. It is not in his nature to stay sequestered in a bed while others pick up the pieces of his broken kingdom. I reassure him my father is acting in his stead, but it does little to calm him.

I wish to know how it is possible he lives, and how he heard me beyond death, but it seems I shall have to wait. His mind is intent on his kingdom rather than his journey back to the living. The few moments we shared after I woke were only a few heartbeats in time. When his memory returned, so did the King.

Feeling awkward, I make to leave his bed, but he reaches out a hand to keep me. I do not ask why, but I guess perhaps he needs the close comfort of a friend.

"The enemy would have breached the keep doors if not for you," I say, hoping he will realize he has already done his kingly duty. "I was there, mellon. I heard the wood crack and groan. You died for it..."

"It was not enough. Far too many lives have been lost. We are not strong enough to withstand another attack."

I prop myself on my elbow and look down at him. "I do not believe they have the number to return a second time. The other half of their army went to Lórien. Perhaps Lady Galadriel's power has defeated them by now."

"I hope you are right."

He winces as he makes a sudden movement. I know his pain must be agonizing for him to cast aside his usual stoicism. Remembering the clear liquor Ada set on the side table, instructing me to give it should he wake, I leave the bed before he can stop me again.

"Drink." I hand him the flask.

He studies it and holds it up to his nose. "Miruvor."

Miruvor is a reviving cordial of the Eldar which has power to grant renewed vigor and strength. I know it will not give him the ability to leave his chambers, but I hope it will lessen his pain for a time.

I smile, and sit down by his hip. "From my father."

"He was here?"

"For a long while. Our vigil lasted through the night. We both had a part in your healing, though we cannot claim to be the reason you are still here. For that miracle you must thank the Valar. Your wound was too deep for Athelas alone to heal..."

Having finished the Miruvor, he returns the flask to the table and then moves his eyes to mine, his expression unreadable. It is not the first time I am unable to decipher him.

"What is on your mind?" I finally ask, giving up the attempt.

"That you look like you have not slept in days."

"You, my lord, look like you have been to the Halls of Mandos and back."

It was meant as a jest, but not even a trace of a smile touches his mouth. I duck my head. It was a poor choice of words, and I blame it on my exhaustion, and my emotions being dragged through the length of the Anduin.

I open my mouth to apologize, but Thranduil finds his voice first.

"Rîneth--"

The door opens, and my father strides in. His solemn eyes widen at the sight of Thranduil awake, and his face breaks into an uncharacteristic broad grin which shows his teeth. His relief is palpable, cutting through the room's chill.

"My king!" He bows.

"Gailon, I am forever in your debt," Thranduil says weakly, and readjusts his position on the bed to appear more presentable. "And Rîneth's. What you have both done --"

"I cannot accept your gratitude, though I did what I could," he interjects. "From the very moment they carried you through the keep doors, it was my daughter who was at your side. Lord Ferdir told me she was adamant about saving you, and even heard her yelling orders at your youngest guard."

I feel a flush of warmth cover my face as they both look at me. Thranduil's eyes flicker with what I recognize as amusement.

"Just because I do not often raise my voice does not mean I am incapable of it. It was a dire situation." I look pointedly at Thranduil. "I feared your spirit to be passing on. Time was the enemy."

"It was, without doubt." Ada approaches the bedside and touches his friend's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

It is now time. I cannot wait a moment longer to tell him about Thranduil's return from death. I inhale deeply before forming the words. I still can hardly believe it happened.

But Thranduil lightly brushes his fingers over my hand in a subtle message, silencing me. He obviously knew what I was about to say. I throw him a questioning glance, but his eyes are focused on my father. I do not understand. Why would he not wish his advisor and friend to know about his miraculous return to the living?

"Never mind how I am feeling," says Thranduil. "Tell me everything you know."

Appearing oblivious to our silent exchange, Ada lowers himself to the bedside chair and begins to speak. The casualties of the night were many, but not as many as first feared. The villagers who escaped into the northern forest are still unaccounted for. Ada is stubborn in keeping hope for their safe return.

I have a sudden remembrance of the twin children I saw after the horn gave its warning, as our world and everything within it was changing forever, and I hope with all my heart they found safety.

"Many are now tending to the wounded. Most shall recover with time and healing. The Woodland Realm endures, my lord."

"As it always has," I whisper.

Thranduil has kept his silence during the detailed account, but upon Ada reaching the end of it, he closes his eyes in what appears to be pain. I suspect it is no longer due to his wound.

"Would you like some more Miruvor?" Ada asks.

He declines with a brisk wave of his hand. When he opens his eyes again, he averts his gaze to an unknown point on the wall. "Have a message sent to Legolas, wherever he may be, though he will not receive it well."

Legolas. Fear strikes me like a balrog's fiery whip. I do not know if he is even alive. I have heard nothing of the Fellowship or their mission. If the Halfling does not accomplish what he set out to do, there will be many more battles to come. We will certainly not win them all.

"Of course." My father stands. "I believe it is best for you to rest and allow these tidings of war and death to settle in your mind. Sleep would be prudent, if you can manage it."

Ada gives me a pointed look, and I nod in understanding. Yes, it is best I leave, if only for a little while.