The Witch's Destiny || Thranduil

Chapter XXIV

Thranduil perished at the extremely young age of 6,485. His reign, overall, was a prosperous one, despite its perilous start categorized by the death of his father, and its perilous middle where the Queen was taken hostage and beheaded. Not to mention that the King was sent her head, but oh no, he did not tell his son about it. He claims it was for the good of his son, but really, that's not the whole truth. You see, the whole truth is that Thranduil didn't want to face the reality of his wife's demise and by the time he was ready, he feared he had waited too long. Then, near the end of his reign, one of his son's friends - a woman by the name of Violet Potter of Earth -- warned him about Sauron, to which the king -- despite his reservations -- agreed to help stop. He allowed dwarves into his kingdom and fell in love with the young woman, but still held the secret of the truth of his first wife. His beloved son, Legolas, found out the truth of his mother and of his father's new relationship in the most heinous ways he possibly could -- which, again, was all because of Thranduil. So, yes, Thranduil, overall, was a wonderful King of the Woodland realm, but an awful relative to have. Truly, the worst. All hail Thranduil the Terribly Great, everyone!

Despite himself, he laughed loudly and without reservations, tilting his head back against the tree. He thought about how he must have looked then and laughed even louder. He could feel the trees buzzing with delight at the sound of a laughing elf in their midst, and he calmed down, being left with a smile.

Here in the midst of his home, away from the prying eyes that the palace had, he could find solace. Amid nature, the dirt on the forest floor, the bark on the trees, and his elk resting beside him, Thranduil felt a peace that he had not found in the week that had passed since Legolas had learned the truth of where his father's heart laid.

-

He returned to his palace mid-day, ignoring the group of dwarves that he passed as he did so, only giving a singular nod to Thorin. The dwarf-king almost did not nod back, not until one of the king's young nephews, whatever the one who wasn't Kili was named, gave a push to his uncle's shoulder.

Thranduil withheld his smirk, continuing his journey back to his chambers to truly dress for the day, but he was intercepted by Heriion, the council member who he had put in charge of The Feast of Starlight.

"My king," he greeted, giving the natural greeting between elves with his hand extending out from over his heart.

"Heriion," Thranduil greeted back, "I have not yet commended you on The Feast of Starlight. My apologies that it is so late."

The elf fidgeted around, smiling nervously. "Ah, you flatter me, my lord."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw slightly. "Whatever it is you have been sent here to tell me, do it now. Are the training grounds on fire again? Has Legolas broken his arm for the third time? Has a sinkhole opened and is at this very moment threatening to kill us all?"

"The Council would like a meeting."

"About?"

Heriion gave him a look. "I do believe you know."

Thranduil sighed. "Let us not keep them waiting then, aye?"

The two men walked through the halls, and it gave Thranduil the time to put King Thranduil into place. The ellon had eyes that mostly held compassion, but the king held a gaze that had made grown men cry -- true story. And today was a day he would use it if the need should arise.

Truth be told, he didn't really know if it would be needed. His Council were generous men, that he made sure of, with the utmost loyalty to himself and the kingdom. They would only speak the truth of what was best for the kingdom. And all of them understood what love meant to and for an elf. A second chance at happiness had been nothing short of a miracle for Thranduil.