Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

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Our marriage did not bring her any joy, nor did helping rule our people. For a long time I gave my all to return the smile she wore in Lindon. I commissioned Dwarves to design jewelry made with precious gemstones. When she wore them she looked as though she belonged among the stars, but still she did not smile. I involved her in projects I believed a lady would enjoy, of creating gardens and designing halls. I even sent for her mother to live with us. But none of these things filled her empty heart. How she did not die from it, I do not know.

It was not until Legolas' birth when she began to smile again. I believed everything would then be as it should, that Itaril would be whole again. But her affection was only for our child."

I press my lips together, feeling a wave of sadness as I think of the rumor.

So it was true.

"Then she gave her life for him," I say, remembering my father's story.

Thranduil looks away, in obvious discomfort with the subject of her death. I immediately regret mentioning it. We fall into a strange silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

"If she still loved Annúnor, why did she come to marry you?" I finally ask, the question giving me no peace. "Why not sail to Valinor to be with her beloved?"

"She did," he answers. "Or rather, she tried."

"I do not understand..."

"She departed from Lindon in secrecy, for it was against her mother's wishes to go to Valinor at such a young age. But Itaril knew she could not bear a life without her betrothed, and boarded the first ship upon arriving at the Grey Havens. Not long after setting sail, there was a great storm, its waves climbing over the ship and stealing some of its passengers. Itaril was...one of them."

I am unable to make sense of what I am hearing. I have never heard such an event happening to the Eldar whilst crossing the Sea...

"Her body was discovered washed upon a shore by a mortal woman who lived in a nearby village. Though alive, Itaril's spirit was grieved; she believed Ulmo had created the storm to send her back, for what purpose she did not know. When she returned to Lindon, her mother did little to comfort her. She even told her the Valar were displeased with her."

"Where was her heart?"

"In the wrong place," he replies. "Her mother remembered I loved Itaril and would marry her. What mother does not desire her daughter to become a queen? I believe she convinced her that if we united, our offspring would one day be great leaders of the Eldar."

"I do not believe the Valar sent her back. It does not make sense."

"It was a storm, nothing more," he agrees. "I should have stopped the wedding. I should have convinced her to board another ship. But when it came to Itaril, I disregarded all my usual foresight."

I briefly close my eyes. Is it any wonder why the rumor started? Surely the realm saw the Queen's continued unhappiness with each passing day. After all her misfortunes and trials, I wonder how she managed to continue living. If only she had not listened to her mother...

"Did she ever love you?"

The look Thranduil gives me speaks volumes; he knows I am thinking of the rumor. If he was anyone else, I would believe him to be embarrassed at my question.

"She loved me in her own way, as one would love a protector or perhaps a friend. I was the father of her child. But she was never in love with me."

I say nothing, not wishing any words spoken to be misconstrued as pity. I feel sorrow for Itaril as well. Both made an irrevocable mistake by joining in marriage. One which cannot be undone.

I suddenly remember his reason for telling me the story, that Itaril had been waiting for him between the two worlds...

He reads my mind like an open scroll. "When I saw Itaril again, she said she had not spent her days in the Halls alone; she had spent them with Annúnor."

-----

"How can this be?"

Like a twisting vine, the story has grown even more unpredictable. Why would Annúnor still have been in the Halls of Waiting? His death was long before even Itaril's. I hold on tightly to the arms of my chair as I wait for him to explain.

"I wondered the same," says Thranduil. "When Itaril's spirit arrived to the Halls, she found Annúnor still there. He had not left as he had been unable to find peace. The anguish of being separated from his betrothed had prevented it."

"What happened when they were reunited?"

He tilts his head, his lips upturning into a small smile. "Now we have arrived at the reason she was waiting for me. As you can guess, their feelings sprang alive again, their lengthened separation not having quenched it. But there was the small problem of her already being married. She pleaded her case before Mandos, who finally had mercy and spoke of it with Manwë, greatest of the Ainur."

Manwë. It is like one of the stories of old, the stories my father told me when I was a child. It is difficult to remember to breathe.

"Manwë was understanding of their plight, of her mistake and mine as well. It was an unusual circumstance, much different than any which had been presented to him before from the Eldar. A long span of time passed as he contemplated the will of Eru. He then came to Itaril and gave her strict instructions.

In order for the marriage vows to be considered dissolved upon her spirit leaving Middle-earth, she would need my consent. He promised in time he would make it possible for her to speak with me. Though my injury was not Manwë's doing, it presented an opportunity..."

I swallow, my mind still attempting to process his words. "Did...did you consent?"

"After her dark and stormy life here, I did not wish to deny her the happiness she deserved."

I look away, my eyes smarting as a small ember lights in my chest. It feels too much like hope. I quickly put it out before it can grow further. It cannot be so simple. Nothing ever is.

"Are you sure this was not just a vivid dream, Thranduil? I do not doubt what you saw, but I have heard fever dreams are--"

He places his hand over mine. "It was not a dream."

For a moment I cannot speak as I attempt to gather my jumble of thoughts into something coherent. "How is it..." I shake my head. "How could it be so simple? The vows of the Eldar are spoken before Eru, broken by neither choice nor death. Eru may have had mercy on a grave mistake, but surely..."

"He did not give mercy freely, Rîneth."

"What do you mean?"

"Manwë told Itaril that if I consented, there would be a consequence for us both. But it was a consequence I was willing to live with."

I lean forward, my heart pummeling. "What consequence?"

He offers no reply, but his eyes hold fast to mine, behind them an emotion I cannot place. He lets go of my hand.

"Thranduil?"

"I shall tell you in time," he says. "But for now you need rest, as do I."