A shadow lies on Thranduil and his forest, and only a power stronger than the darkness of old can save them.
Grief and loss have turned him into a king with a heart of ice, and if he is ever to find redemption, the chains of guilt and remorse holdin...
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A gentle touch on her cheek awoke Anna from her slumber. At first she was reluctant to open her eyes, wishing to hold on to the last threads of golden dreams her mind had woven out of affectionate glances and warm embraces.
"Adaneth," the fingers against her skin were now accompanied by a soft voice sinking into the fading clouds of her dreams. "Wake up. It is nearly dawn and we still have a long way ahead."
A muffled grumbling was her only answer, the covers too soft and the images too beautiful to be exchanged for the cold of winter. She shifted around trying to slide deeper under the covers hoping to evade the unwelcome intruder into her snuggly cocoon.
"It is time. You must rise now."
The voice was insistent and wouldn't go away, no matter how much she pretended not to hear it and sliding down any lower wasn't an option as she felt the searing heat of fire creeping up dangerously close to her toes. But only when a hand tugged with determination at her shoulder she finally stirred and reluctantly willed her eyes open.
The first thing she saw was a giant heap of silvery cloth blocking her line of vision and when she slowly pulled the cloak from her eyes the outline of a pair of thighs, stretched out beside her, came in focus. Her eyes followed the delicate floral pattern of the light grey robe that enveloped the body's slender form, travelling upwards across dried bloodstains and small tears in the fabric, over the perfect line of clasps running up the chest like silver beads, coming to rest on that familiar spider brooch. By the time her eyes had reached the tempting curve of the elegant neck a small smile dawned on her face. She knew what would come into sight next: A determined jawline, perfectly shaped lips with an enticing gap in between them, and then under those heavy brows she would finally meet the eyes of her dreams just instants ago. So it was real and suddenly waking up didn't seem so bad after all.
"Mmorng," she mumbled into the thick folds, her mouth not really ready for anything beyond some unintelligible syllables.
"Well, good morning it is to you too," Thranduil said with a smirk on his face as he gently pushed aside the layers of heavy fabric under which half of her face was still buried. She squinted up to him through sleepy eyes, although the light of dawn was only a somewhat dreary shade of grey, a drawn out yawn accompanying her lazy attempt at getting her body in motion.
He tilted his head sideways to get a better look at her face. "May I remind you that you were stubbornly adamant about not needing any rest, and look at you now: the one that didn't want to sleep! I'm barely able to wake you from your slumber." The strands of his hair tickling her nose finally dragged her from her drowsy state and she stretched her stiff limbs while trying to think of something smart to say.
"Well, that was yesterday. Now is today, so that's different," was the best she could come up with, her face still scrunched up as she fought her inner demons that sought to pull her back into her slumber.
