Impulsive and young, Thranduil brings back Aerneth to Doriath as his wife, making his abusive father furious. Through the Ages their hasty marriage is shadowed by war and death, dragons and dark lords, betrayal and kinslayings. How can they ever fin...
~Spring dawns among the ruins of Doriath, with a new king, and even children. Thranduil feels unusually hopeful. Will his happiness finally last?~
oOo
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A New King
Menegroth, Doriath, First Age 503
Menegroth had become a city of ghosts. Gone were the silver animals and babbling fountains, gone were the merry voices and busy market stalls, and worse, the food was gone too; their stores of meat, lembas, dried fruits and preserves having been plundered by the dwarves just like everything else of value, and with so few survivors they had had a hard time replenishing them. As for the lembas, that was lost to Doriath for good.
Looking around among the assembled people, Thranduil saw signs of suffering in almost every face. With lack of food they had grown sallow and thin, and several still had ugly battle scars.
All citizens had gathered outside the provisionally repaired city gate, waiting to greet their new regent whose arrival had been announced by a forerunner earlier that day. Well, almost all of them – Oropher had claimed to have a headache and remained in bed. He had hardly left it at all since the battle.
A horn sounded cheerfully, and a large following emerged from under the eaves of the forest, with the king-to-be and his family walking in the front. Their colourful clothes, gleaming jewels and healthy looks contrasted sharply with the sorry crowd that welcomed them.
Behind the royals came another group of elves, all garbed in forest green and equipped with longbows. They must be Laegrim, Green-Elves of Ossiriand. The Laegrim were said to be great hunters and archers. Maybe they could help restock Menegroth's empty larders?
Feeling the first glimmer of hope in a long time, Thranduil moved his gaze to his new leader, Lúthien's son. Dior looked more mannish than elvish. He was broad shouldered and shorter than his wife, but his chin was smooth and his dark hair braided in the Doriath fashion. As if he had tried hard to make himself fit in.
Nimloth, his wife, was a relative of Celeborn, and had the same silvery hair colour as he. Two small children followed close on her heels.
"Greetings, my kin and friends," exclaimed Dior in a strong voice that easily carried to them all. "I bring good tidings in these dark times. The animals – for I refuse to call them anything else – who ruined your fair kingdom, are no more. Beren, my adar, hunted them down and ambushed them at Sarn Athrad, killing every last one. They have paid for their evil deeds!"
A murmur rose among the assembled, grim smiles breaking out in haggard faces. Nobody had forgotten the treatment they had received from the dwarves. Good riddance!
"The necklace of my grand adar was also retrieved and is now worn by my naneth, Lúthien," Dior continued. "Sadly the rest of the treasure was lost in the river, but despair not! With me I bring what I believe will be more welcome than silver and gems." He indicated a row of horse carts behind the Laegrim. "A bounty of food!"
