"The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that."
Fairies are one of the oldest race of beings in Arda -once they called Numenór home- but Arethusa watched as the sea claimed the island from the helm of a ship as the survivors fled to...
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THE Elvenking and his host of foot soldiers marched into the streets of Dale in the early morning hours. A solemn air had come upon the journey, but Thranduil had stopped at seeing the small figure that was curled into itself, yet he knew it was the fairy without even seeing her fair face. She was fading, and despite their previously shared words, a millennium of friendship between the two would not be forgotten so easily. The Elvenking himself slipped from his elk and knelt next to the fairy, taking her into his arms like a small child, he rested his hand on her forehead. "Anno laug." The old magic was a thing he had not used in centuries but as soon as the words were whispered a pink hue returned to her cheeks.
The sun kissed her face and a pair of arms lifted her from the ground. "Lady Arethusa." It took several long seconds for her eyes to adjust and see the silver hair and ice blue eyes that belonged to the Elvenking. He wore armor, a tarnished silver circlet on his head.
"Thranduil." Her voice was meek as the Elvenking lifted her onto the back of his elk, Brethildor. Agarwaenor, an elf she remembered well from the Second Age, brought forth her blade and the silver and gold coronet Oropher had gifted her. She took both items gratefully as Thranduil looked over her face and arms for injury. "What is your purpose here?" Arethusa finally managed to ask, her voice was rough from the cold night.
"To reclaim that which is mine." She knew he spoke of the White Gems of Lasgalen and the necklace that had been forged by the dwarves. It was to be a gift for Ithilwen, a gift that she would never live to see. She lowered her head at the thought of her dear friend. Thranduil mounted the elk behind the fairy. "Why are you not with the dwarf?" With the way the fairy shied away from the question Thranduil almost wished he had never asked.
"The sickness has claimed him." The despair that consumed her voice was one that was unbecoming for a creature such a fairy. Yet from that statement alone Thranduil knew that she had come to love him and he would not wish the pain of losing the one you love most to anyone, especially Arethusa with all that she had endured over the years. "It is good to see you, enwina meldo." She looked back at him with a smile, genuine, yet something had taken its toll on her and she looked weary.
Her violet eyes had dulled, a section of her hair, no more than an inch wide, had turned from ashen brown to a bleached white and her skin seemed all the more pallor. Wagons of supplies entered the city ahead of them, bringing food, water, and wine. The cloths and bandages that had been brought were no longer needed, yet appreciated all the same. The elven army parted from their position in the streets, making way for the Elvenking and supplies. Bard watched on as his people celebrated and began unloading the wagons with cries of thanks. It was then he turned to Thranduil and Arethusa.
The Elvenking eased her off of the elk with a curt nod before returning his attention to Bard. She wandered through the ruined streets and the people smiled as she passed, children ran and greeted her, if only to say they had met a real princess. The foot soldiers of Mirkwood filled many of the allies, their golden armor gleaming in the sun. She looked for Legolas, Tauriel even, but found neither.
