I Bess en i Aran en Eldar - The Wife of the Elvenking

Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo - A star shines on the hour of our meeting

Lost. Torn from his hands and from his life and never to come back. 
It would have been a fitting description for his heart. He knew, however, that this was not the case because very little was left of it and if he had placed a hand on the left side of his chest he would have been surprised to hear it still beat. 
Yet his torn heart did not stop him from feeling all the pain he sensed when he had to admit that those words that swirled incessantly in his mind did not describe his heart, but his Love, his Life, his Queen.
There she lay, in his arms, colder than ice and with her face and body covered with bruises and scratches and bloody cuts.  Her beauty, that once shone more than a star, was now clouded by the tomentum that was still visible in her now dull eyes. The Elvenking knew that even the most tormented and bloody death could not have caused him as much pain as the guilt that choked him there, with his lost Love in his hands, did. 
The Elvenqueen had died in glory protecting her son and fighting alongside her people, yet there was the humiliation  that weighed on the Elves of the Woodland Realm more than a mountain. She had been captured by the Orcs of Gundabad and with all the pride of a Queen she had resisted torture and had not uttered a word in response to questions about attack tactics or secrets of her Realm. 
The Elvenking had spent three days in agony with the entire army of the Woodland Realm, searching for a way to pass beyond the walls and save the precious elleth (she-elf) he had failed to protect. However, no matter how hard they tried, the fortress seemed to be unassailable and the despair of King Thranduil and his people grew every moment.
The problem with torture is that it never ends, there is never time to retire to lick one's wounds, to recover.  It never ends, until the end of everything. So, on the third day, the gate of the stronghold were barely opened and a body was thrown into the dust, carelessly and with disdain.
When he had fallen on his knees beside her, holding her body and kissing her cold forehead in a last embrace she would never feel, he had wanted to die. He had wanted to be slaughtered there and feel all the pain she had to bear in the last three days.

He had led his people back home without knowing how. 
He was lost. He lived in a trance, unable to acknowledge anything that happened around him, losing sense of time and without being able to cry, because all the tears at his disposal seemed to have been shed in the hours immediately after.
He was standing on the balcony of his quarter, seemingly looking at the stars, yet he did not perceive their light and beauty.

[Flashback]
Oropher, the King of Eryn Galen, also known as Greenwood the Great, was riding on his majestic dark brown horse towards the woods of Lothlórien where he had an arranged meeting with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel,  the Lady of Light herself.
On his side rode his son and heir to the throne, Thranduil and behind them an escort of daugon (warriors),  led by their hest (captain),  accompanied them.
The Prince was still quite young, yet already a grown ellon (male elf) and with a wise look in his eyes. He looked forward to the meeting, as he wanted  to learn as much as possible about politics, in order to be a worthy heir to his adar (father). Of  course he was also curious about meeting the Lady Galadriel for the first time and seeing all the legends about her power and beauty confirmed.
They had made it past the Old Forest Road and out of Greenwood the Great. Now they travelled along the river Anduin, however the journey to Lothlórien was long and they would have stopped at the Gladden Field, guests of a family of small nobility.
Eldohtar and his wife Calima were some of the few last pureblood Noldor and had lived at the mouth of the river Gladden for some centuries.
The heart of King Oropher still ached at the memory of the Second Kinslaying and the Ruin of Doriath by the hand of the Noldorin sons of Fëanor, yet Eldohtar and Calima had proven themselves to be kind and welcoming hosts more than once, so the differences would have remained unspoken in mutual respect.
A small feast in honour of the King of Eryn Galen had been organised at the house of Eldohtar and Calima and some Elves of the surroundings had been invited as well.
They arrived late in the afternoon and were warmly welcomed by the Lord and Lady of the house and the servants. The place had always given off tranquility and Prince Thranduil was happy to relax with a hot bath before preparing for the feast.
Clothes make people.  It was something he had learned very quickly from his adar (father) and he knew it was important to make the right decision regarding clothing in any kind of situation. This evening would have been quite an intimate feast without too many guests, the Prince was sure that there would not have been more than fifty people, yet he had to represent Eryn Galen alongside his adar (father) and it was important to stand out from the other Elves and also from Eldohtar and Calima, as their status was a bit lower than his own. 
He opted for a formal tunic with expensive silver embroidery and red decorations, yet it was not too long and reached only his knees. He completed the look with his circlet and some rings set with rubies from Erebor. Braiding ones hair was very common among Silvan Elves, yet this was not a habit the Sindarin Price had picked up, so he let his long blond locks fall open on his shoulders.
A maid came to call him for dinner and led him to the hall used for special events.  Obviously it was much smaller than the one Thranduil knew from home, but it was still a small, tastefully decorated jewel in the house of Eldohtar and Calima.
He set next to his adar (father), who was engaged in a conversation with the Lord of the house that definitely seemed to please him. Food was immediately served and the Prince was pleasantly surprised by delicate flavors slightly different from those he knew from Eryn Galen.
Shortly thereafter, while Thranduil was engaged in a conversation with Calima, two young ellith (she-elves) entered the room, bowing  to the King and the Prince and received a reproachful look from Eldohtar. The Prince of Greenwood the Great remembered that the hosts had two daughters, yet he had never had the pleasure to meet them, as they were often away from home for studies and education in Lothlórien. At that moment he did not pay too much attention to the two sisters, but turned again to Lady Calima so as not to seem rude.
Later the dances started and the hosts showed the first dance, which other couples quickly joined. At this point Thranduil had the opportunity to better observe the two ellith (she-elves).  It was hard to oversee them, as a small group of young ellyn (male elves) had formed around them, all hoping to get a dance.
She, who the Prince assumed to be a little older, was a real beauty.  Long locks of brown hair ran down her back and her beautiful face was illuminated by eyes as blue as the clearest of the skies, she had a delicate nose and full lips that inspired kisses.  She was swaddled in a pink dress with golden embroidery that showed her forms shamelessly and by her sugary laughter, Thranduil understood that she was used to receiving flattery from young ellyn (male elves).
Yet, what caught his attention was the other young elleth (she-elf). She could not have been more different from the first and the Prince thought with a smile that the two sisters could have been described as fire and ice. The only thing the younger sister shared with the older was the eyes and the shape of the nose. Her face was thinner and her mouth slightly smaller. The most particular thing, however, was her hair.  It was blond, but not like Thranduil's, it looked more silver and similar to the color of the moon. She wore it braided in a complicated hairstyle, unusual for elves, but it showed her delicate neck. She wore a white and silver dress, less revealing than that of her sister, but still very fine and elegant. Thranduil though that she shone like a star. 
It was clear that she was more shy and seemed happy that most of the attention was paid to her sister. The Prince of Eryn Galen wondered whether or not he should have asked for a dance. It was strange for him to feel insecure about these kind of things. He was very self-confident and quite handsome, he knew that he could have practically any elleth (she-elf) he desired. So he shrugged off that useless and brief insecurity and headed for the two ellith (she-elves).
When the Prince approached, the young admirers moved away a little, lowering their heads in respect. The two sisters brought a hand to their heart and greeted their noble guest. The younger one stepped aside a bit like the other ellyn (male elves), probably sure that the Prince's attentions were directed to the older sister.
Even greater was the surprise when Thranduil stopped in front of the white-robed elleth (she-elf) and held out his hand. He returned her greeting and then asked: "Can I have the honor of a dance?". The young woman blushed and looked down for a moment, then raised her eyes with a small smile: "Mae govannen, Ernil Thranduil. (Well met, Prince Thranduil.)", she said and accepted his proposal.
The moment her little hand rested on his, he knew that she was not going to be one of the many ellith (she-elves) who fell at his feet and whose name he struggled to remember the next day.  His heart warmed at the sight of her shyness like never before and so he smiled at her warmly. "Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo. (A star shines on the hour of our meeting.)", he almost whispered.
He led her to the center of the room and they slowly started dancing.  The young woman mostly kept her eyes down with a shy smile drawn on her lips. "What's your name, my Lady?", he asked her and was happy to notice that she finally met his gaze.  "Freya, Ernil nin. (my Prince)", she answered and then smiled:  "I'm afraid there is no need to ask for yours." , she added. Thranduil gave her an amused look and made her spin, before pulling her back into his arms. She was so fair, he thought.
They shared more than one dance together and as they danced the elleth (she-elf) relaxed, leaning more on the Prince and letting herself be guided quietly by his hands. She smiled more openly and the initial shyness seemed almost completely gone.
When Freya's cheeks turned red from the long dances and probably also a little from the mischievous looks that her older sister threw at her, the Prince proposed that they rest in the small gardens with a drink.
She gratefully accepted and so the two moved from the center of the room to a side exit. Thranduil had two glasses of wine brought by a waiter and passed one to the beautiful elleth (she-elf), then offered her his arm with a smile and they went outside.
The garden was quite small, but like the rest of the house, truly delightful. Some small balconies of various heights were connected to each other by marble stairs and all around them were flowers of all colours.  They stopped on a small balcony in front of a fountain and enjoyed the refreshing night air and the sweet taste of wine.
The Prince was accustomed to strong liqueurs, since his adar (father) had a considerable valuable supply, but he could see that Freya was less used to it. She was not dipsy yet, but she would surely become it with another glass.
He turned to her as she finished the last sip of her drink.  "Freya", he whispered and she looked at him when she heard him say her name. "I have never heard of this name and its meaning also eludes me, even though I speak both Sindarin and Quenya.",  he said intrigued. She laughed at his doubt: "Do not worry, Ernil (Prince) Thranduil, it is not your knowledge or your memory that falters. It was my mother who chose my name from an ancient Quenyan dialect. It simply means Lady, not much."  she explained.
The prince looked at her: "It is Thranduil."  he said seriously in a tone that did not allow replies, then his gaze returned to a softer one: "I still think it is a suitable name, since you truly are a Lady. A very beautiful one.", he admitted and saw with amusement how Freya lowered her gaze, biting her lip lightly.
However he was surprised when she replied.  "I hope beauty is not the only value you see in me, Thranduil.", she spoke, slowly accentuating each syllable of his name as if to tease him a little.
Obviously he had not meant to offend, but still felt the need to apologize in some way.  "Not at all, I am sure you have many more and I would feel lucky to discover them.", he reassured her then, enjoying the warm smile that she gave him.
"What are your interests? ", she then wanted to know: "We might share some.".
He raised an eyebrow, not quite sure of that fact, but still hurried to answer: "Well, I finished my training a few years ago and now I sometimes join the guards during the patrols.", he told her. "Which weapon do you prefer?"  she asked. Intrigued by her interest, he continued to tell: "Obviously I was trained in archery like all the members of our army, but I think I am very comfortable with swords.".
"As am I!", she exclaimed. A surprised expression must have been painted on his face, because Freya tilted her head slightly to the side: "You do not believe me?"  she asked.
"Of course I do.", he quickly answered raising his hands as if he surrenders: "I just found it difficult to imagine such banath (beauty) in an armour, fiercely holding a sword alongside brute daugon (warriors).". 
He then lowered his hands and gently traced a line on her cheekbone, as he saw that she had lowered her gaze, biting her lip again. He found it looked really sweet.
However she looked him in the eyes again and he could see sparkling amusement in them. "Maybe I would not beat you, but I would definitely be a formidable opponent.", she said laughing with a prideful look.
He also laughed and then returned her teasing: "I have never been beaten. Only by my adar (father), although he has some thousand years more experience.", he told her. "Well, Thranduil, there is always a first time.", she fired back cheekily, but then shortly after her eyes widened and she put a hand in front of her mouth, probably fearing that she had gone too far. 
"Gohena nin (forgive me), it was not my place.", she whispered. Thranduil slowly reached for her hand, that was still covering her lips and held it in his: "Ú-moe edhored (there is nothing to forgive), Freya.", he assured her. 
Then they stood there in silence for some moments, both watching their entangled hands. The Prince of Eryn Galen thought that he would have liked to kiss the soft skin of her knuckles, yet again he felt unpleasantly insecure as never before. He thought it to be ridiculous that he had to gather his courage before bringing her hand gently to his lips.
After that gesture Freya seemed to regain her bravery and looked at him with a sweet smile. "I never thought my hand would be kissed by a prince.", she said softly with still a little shyness.
"Your sister will be jealous, then.", he replied with a smile. Freya let out a funny dramatic sigh: "Oh, Tiara is more than busy with all those ellyn (male elves)."  The prince smiled to himself, "I wonder why, when they have another no less cloying banath (beauty) in front of them.", he squeezed her hand slightly. The elleth (she-elf) did not respond to the compliment, but her cheeks turned red again: "This does not mean that she will not make fun of me for the next few weeks.", she said instead.
Now that the young woman was no longer hot after the dances and the warming effect of the alcohol was also beginning to fade, Thranduil noticed that she had goosebumps and that she must have been a little cold.  So he asked her if she wanted to go back inside, but Freya declined the offer and turned her face to the starry sky. Hugging her would have been too out of place, since they had only known each other for a few hours and he was a Prince, so he just put a hand on her back to give her some warmth.  Standing behind her, he realised how small she was in comparison to himself, she barely reached the height of his shoulders. A slight shiver shook her and so he came a little closer, obviously keeping politely the distances and without his chest touching her back, even if very close.
"They are beautiful.", she said, her eyes still on the stars. "They are, indeed.", he agreed and then shortly paused. "When I saw you tonight for the first time, I thought that you shone like an elen (star).", he then said quietly. The Prince could not see it, but he sensed that she was smiling: "You just made that up to flatter me, as  elin (stars) shine so bright.".
At that moment Thranduil had to fight furiously with the instinct to hold her close or to kiss her neck near the hairline, delightfully exposed to his sight. He realised that with so little distance to separate them he could feel her heart beat. He took a breath, remembering his royal position, then replied: "It was really what I thought, I swear. I would not lie to you for the sole purpose of flattery. I do not need to invent anything.", he breathed and felt her heart beat faster.
Freya turned around, smiled.  They were so close, but Thranduil decided he would not do anything out of place and so he just took her hands in his and stroked them slowly.  
It was already late at night and there were few guests left.  The Prince noticed the veil of weariness in the elleth's (elleth) eyes, so he kissed her knuckles again: "I shall accompany you to your quarters, you are tired.", he said.
He understood that Freya was about to protest, but probably realised at that moment how tired she really was, so she nodded resignedly. Thranduil offered her his arm again and together they went back into the house.
Aran (King) Oropher das engaged in a talk with Lady Calima, while Lord Eldohtar greeted the last guests.
The two young elves passed the hall and went up the stairs to Freya's quarters in silence.  There were no lanterns along the corridors, but the moonlight illuminated them. They stopped in front of the door of her rooms and for a few moments their eyes chained each other silently. Then Thranduil reached out to stroke her cheek.  "Losta mae, elen nin (sleep well, my star).", he said and she gave him a smile that warmed his heart.
Then, to his surprise, Freya stood on tiptoe and placed a very light kiss on his cheek.  "You are so very handsome, Thranduil.", she whispered red in the face, before disappearing behind the door.
It was at this point that it became clear to him that also for Freya he had not been a simple handsome ellon (male elf) with whom to enjoy an evening and at that realization his heart beat faster than ever.
On the next morning, after a good breakfast and after their horses had been prepared, the hosts greeted their guests and wished them a safe journey to Lothlórien and back. When the Prince reached Freya she greeted him formally, yet he knew that the soft smile on her lips was for him. 
Thranduil knew that his adar (father) and everybody else was watching, but he had not slept so little for nothing that night and had come to a decision. He would explain to his adar (father) shortly thereafter.  So he approached Freya and kissed her cheek: "We will meet again, elen nin (my star).", he breathed into her moon-colored hair and gave her a smile that she returned with bright eyes.
Shortly after, as they rode towards the woods of Lothlórien, the King of Eryn Galen turned to his son.  "So, ion nin (my son), tell me what you have to tell me about the young daughter of Eldohtar and Calima.", he opened the subject. "I would very much like to see her again and spend more time with her, adar (father). I believe that she is the one, I believe that Freya is the elleth (she-elf) I want to spend my eternity with", Thranduil replied, serenely sincere. "She is a Noldor, but at least she comes from the small nobility.", Oropher said. Only then did the Prince realise what he was asking his adar (father) for. Now that he thought about it, he had always known that Freya was a Noldor, but during the past night it had not seemed to him in the least important.  He was about to reply, when the King said, "Anyway, if you love her and she reciprocates you, I will not be the obstacle to your happiness. You have my blessing.". With happiness warming his heart, Thranduil bowed his head with respect: "Hannon le, adar (thank you, father).".
[End of flashback.]

Somehow he had ended up in the royal gardens, yet he was completely indifferent to the flowers that surrounded him, as even they seemed less colourful. King Thranduil seemed completely indifferent to the rest of the world really. If someone had asked him whether it was night or day he would not have known the answer or maybe he would not even have noticed the person asking him.
Then the sight of something suddenly stopped him. Prince Legolas stood in front of him, tears in his eyes. He came towards him and threw himself on the King. "Please,  adar (father), do not leave me as well, do not fade!", he cried. 
At that moment something in Thranduil's mind snapped. His son, the son she had given him, was suffering and he was doing nothing to help him. Legolas was still a child who was about to enter adolescence, he needed him, he needed his adar (father).  How could he have ignored him when his child had just lost his emel (mother)? Was he such a bad adar (father)?
He fell to his knees in front of Legolas, so as to decrease the difference in height and hugged him tightly while the small body was shaken by sobs and cried with him. "My little leaf, do not fear.", he only managed to whisper choked.  When he released the embrace he leaned his forehead against his son's and closed his eyes. He did not know how, but somehow he would go on. He owed it to his Queen and the son that their love had created.  
He was forced to go on.

Elvish from: https://www.elfdict.com