When a darkness spreads across Mirkwood, a mighty elven kingdom is robbed from its bliss. A once vibrant people hides behind the walls of their kingdom and the forest grew into a bleak and uneasy place.
The other realms suspected Thranduil of being...
'Elithien,' the king murmured, placing his shivering hand on his wife's glowing forehead. Her tired eyes looked into his.
'If I could only take away the pain,' he whispered and searched under the snow-white sheets for her hand. Their fingers intertwined and he pressed a soft kiss against the clammy back of her hand. She smiled at him, a smile so pure and genuine that, for a heartbeat, it took away his worry. When the contractions began again, she screamed in pain.
"Do something!" Thranduil scarled to the helpless maids. He tightened his grip around the queen's hand and turned his attention back to her. 'We are doing all we can, your highness,' the young midwife said and couldn't help but laugh softly. The poor king had little experience with childbirth, but it was clear to anyone that he wanted nothing more than to ease his wife's pain.
As time passed, the pain seemed to give her no rest. Thranduil could do nothing but wait. Though it was clear that the queen herself was calmer than he was. This was perhaps the first time since their matrimony that he stood before her in a panicked state of fear. During all the battles he had fought, it was normally she who feared for his life. There were times when she came with him, where both their lives were in danger, but even then he had not been as fearful as he was at this moment.
Thranduil didn't leave her bed for a single moment. His eyes slid over her warm, red skin and saw how the droplets of sweat made her skin glisten. Like tiny pearls, they slid down her forehead and landed on her pillow. Her golden blonde hair, once wavy, fresh and shiny, lay scattered in a damp tangle around her head. Her sparkling blue eyes were full of happiness and courage, with exactly the same look she had when she once stood beside his bed to tend to his wounds. Wounds that Thranduil paid no attention to, because he was more emotionally damaged by the enormous loss of his kingdom.
Hundreds of years ago, still in the beginning of the second ara, it was Elithien who did not leave Thranduil's bed. He had returned from the battle of Dagorlad, in which he and his father, Oropher, had fought. Thranduil had returned alone with a broken heart and the shattered remains of the former great army of his people. It lay too heavy on Thranduil's heart to even turn around and cast his gaze southward. Since he didn't dare face the memories and the horrors of the War of the Last Alliance in which his beloved father had fallen, along with many of his people. The days that passed afterwards lay heavy on him. The sorrow that swept through the kingdom touched everyone deeply. Elithien spent her days tending to her beloved and wispered encouraging words to him, getting him through the day. She did not leave his side. Thranduil could not thank the Adar enough for the woman that was able to heal his soul every day. And now she is giving him a child, a little prince or princess. A daughter or son of the spring. An heir to his throne.
The kingdom was anxiously awaiting the arrival of the royal child. The subjects were busy in the cellar with barrels of wine and decorations in the great hall. Wreaths of flowers adorned the walls, along with tendrils overgrown with green leaves. The gardens were in full bloom and joy reigned. They would be feasting until the stars in the sky disappeared and the first light would bathe the woods in gold.
When the queen's wails echoed through the corridors, everyone remained silent and waited patiently.
"Some water, my dear?' Thranduil offered his wife a chalice. She accepted, smiling and carefully drank some of the fresh water. The king took the chalice from her again and set it aside. He took her hand in his and smiled reassuringly. His thumb rubbed the ring that had bounded them in marriage.
Once again, he had to watch as the contractions tortured her and he wondered how long this would continue. The answer came quickly when a maid walked into the room with blankets.
"Is it time?" asked Thranduil anxiously and the girl nodded. He nodded and looked at his wife encouragingly. There was a soft smile around her lips. 'Don't worry, my love. I'll stay by your side,' he spoke softly and rubbed the back of her hand again. Before she could even respond to her husband's soothing words, another contraction overtook her. The midwife went to work and Thranduil waited patiently.
Time suddenly rushed by. He couldn't take his eyes off his wife. He held her hand in his and felt her squeezing his skin with each contraction. He spoke encouraging words to her and told her how well she was doing.
When finally..
Sweet cries filled the room. His breath got caught in his throat as the midwife walked up to him, carrying in her arms a baby wrapped in the softest cloths in the kingdom. Thranduil's legs trembled as he stood up and let go of his wife's hand. He took the bundle in his hands and stared, eyes widened, at the child in his arms.
'My congratulations, it's a little prince,' the midwife spoke in a soft tone. He was beautiful. Thranduil could not believe what he held in his arms. His own son, his beautiful son.
'Thranduil,' sounded his wife's soft and tired voice. 'Let me see him.' Thranduil nodded and walked with the child toward the bed. Beside her, he knelt down and placed the cloth-wrapped child in her arms. A proud smile graced her face as she stroked the elven child's head. Tears of pure happiness rolled down her cheeks as she pressed a kiss to her son's forehead. She turned her head and looked at Thranduil. Her brilliant, sea blue eyes were wet with tears. "What do you want to call him?" asked Thranduil calmly.
Elithien turned her gaze away from him again and looked at her son. She seemed soulful. As if nothing in the world had been this good, until this very moment. The moment when she could hold her very own son in her arms. With wide eyes, she looked up as a fig leaf swirled down from the sky and landed beside her on the bed. Elithien picked up the leaf and looked at it with a smile. 'Leaf,' she then spoke softly and looked at Thranduil. 'Green leaf,' the king added. 'Legolas,' both translated into the sweetly spoken elven language. The queen nodded slowly and turned to the baby lying in her arms. She stroked his cheek and smiled. 'Our son will be named Legolas. Legolas Greenleaf.'
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