Some Head Canons...for Everything

The Hobbit ~ Dance for Me

A/N: Hi! This is a nice, heartwarming/BREAKING Thranduil fanfic (@HiFiveKeaton helped me with it). I'm going with Miriel again as his wife's name. Enjoy! Also, just so you know...this won't line up with my other Thranduil head canon. My head canons don't line up; they're just little snippets of possible things that may have occurred :) Technically, this shouldn't be called a Hobbit fanfic, because the events in it are before and after The Hobbit actually takes place, but I didn't know what to put.

Wait! One more thing! I am aware that Thranduil probably doesn't have blonde hair and that it would be very odd for his descendants to, but my original characters in this story are based off of people I actually know, so...I'll keep them blonde.

Or we can just say it's based on the movie. Whatever.

Thranduil sat upon his throne with a grim countenance, sifting through papers and requests. A gentle knock on the door brought his head up. Annoyed, the Elfking rolled his eyes and informed, "I am busy and have no time! Come back later!"

Depiste his words, the knob turned, and just as he was about to dole out some punishment, a beautiful Elf poked her head around the door. She smiled, and it seemed to light up the entire room.

"Ah," Thranduil said, feeling slightly embarrassed for speaking to his wife in such a rude manner, "it's you."

Laughter filled the hollow throne room. "Yes, it's me! I know you're busy, but--"

"Ada! Ada!" two small voices said in unison. He looked down to see his daughters peeking out from behind their mother's legs. The eldest, Manwathiel, ran to him and shouted, "Ada, Nana's taught us a dance, and we want to show you!"

Thranduil blinked slowly a few times. He had so much to do...but it could wait. These were his daughters, the most important people in his life besides Miriel, his wife. Stepping down from the throne, he ruffled Manwathiel's thin, golden hair. Marilla skipped in next, followed by Miriel. As she went to stand by her husband, the Elflings stood in anticipation, waiting for their mother to sing the notes that cued their dance.

The Elfking looked at Miriel when she started to sing. Her voice was beautiful, clear, and resonant, unlike anything he'd ever heard before. He was filled with wonder every time he heard it, and he was thankful that someone so perfect had fallen in love with him. She noticed his blank stare and gently nudged him, affectively directing his attention to the girls.

He smiled. Their dance was filled with all of the energy and liveliness that a child's dance should have. They looked so happy with their feet moving this way and that, that Thranduil wanted to moment to last forever. But it didn't, and it ended with the children skipping to their father. Beaming, he bent down and hugged them both. Miriel joined in, and the family sat there, arms around each other. Suddenly, Thranduil stood up. He turned to a small boquet of flowers reasting near his throne and gave one to both Elflings. Manwathiel's was a bright pink, and Marilla's was pure white. They smiled at him.

"Thank you, Ada!" squealed Marilla. Manwathiel, however, seemed concerned. "Did you like our dance?"

He bent down and put his hands on her tiny shoulders. "I loved your dance, Manwathiel. It was perfect." Her blue eyes lit up and she clapped her hands. Thranduil continued, "It cheered me up. I've been very angry lately, and...you fixed me. Thank you."

Miriel turned to the girls and said in her soft voice, "Good job! Now...why don't you two go find some water for your flowers, yes?" They nodded eagerly and ran to the door. Thranduil looked at his wife and smiled. "What would I do without you?"

She laughed. "Oh...maybe you would become a hermit without joy, shut away from the world and thinking only of yourself?"

Thranduil kissed her quickly then said, "I can assure my Lady, that with or without you...I will never become that."

* * *

The rain came down in torrents from the clouded sky. Thranduil slouched on the throne, his face more wet with tears than it had ever been in all his life. Sobs racked his body, and his head was down in his hands. Finally, when the tears dried, there was nothing. He felt nothing but a cold numbness that seemed to come from his heart. Miriel was dead. She was gone, and nothing he could do to change it. It seemed like forever that he sat there in a trance-like state, until he was snapped out of it by a soft knock on the door.

"Adar?" questioned a shaky voice. He didn't answer, but his two daughters came in anyways. They offered him flowers and said, "We made you a dance. A dance to... to fix you." Although he could tell that they were already on the verge of crying, a sudden anger took over him and he slapped their flowers away, standing up. "No! There will be no more dancing in my kingdom!" he spat at them. A tear slid down little Marilla's cheek.

"But Ada, we want to help..."

"Grieve for your mother!" he yelled. "Grieve for Miriel, grieve for me, grieve for my kingdom! What right do you have to dance at a time like this, you ungrateful children? Dancing! Dancing is joyful! What joy do you have?"

By this time, both were crying, Marilla moreso than Manwathiel. "Ada, we are n-not joyful," Manwathiel stuttered. "N-nana just told us t-that if she ever died f-for any reason, w-we had to keep d-dancing. S-she said it w-would help you!"

Teeth gritted, he stared at them and whipered, "She was wrong." His voice rising in volume, he commanded, "Now get out of my sight!" Both girls wailed and tore out of the room, their sobs echoing for a few moments. At the sound of the echoes, Thranduil realized what he had done. Tears flowed freely down his pale cheeks again as he collapsed onto the throne and said to himself, "What have I done?"

* * *

"Legolas!" shouted the king, running up behind his son in the woods. "Legolas, I came as soon as I could; they said it was urgent--" His voice froze as he followed Legolas's gaze to the two bodies on the ground. They were female elves, only slighly older than Legolas, one with hair like golden thread, the other with eyes as brown as the tree trunks that surrounded them. At the sight of his two daughters, laying dead and covered in blood, Thranduil felt something inside of him crack. There were no tears this time, just a faraway gaze that was filled with nothingness. Legolas stared at his father. "Ada," he whispered, "it was the spiders again." Thranduil's vision went red. The spiders. It was always the spiders. Those animals had taken everything from him...everything. Then, as if his heart was made of stone, he turned away, leaving a silently crying Legolas alone with the bodies of his sisters.

Just as Legolas was about to leave, he noticed Manwathiel's locket laying on the ground a few feet away. With tremblig hands, he opened it. A single, dried, pink flower fell out, crumbling as it fell then swept away by the wind.

* * *

Thranduil could see the shore. After so long on the sea, after so many years in Middle-earth, he was finally there: the Undying Lands, a place that he had only dreamed about. With a gentle thunk, the boat anchored, but he didn't wait for the smaller boat to bring him and the others to land. He could see the people standing on the other side, and they were all that mattered.

Without thinking, he threw himself over the side and swam as hard as he could, immune to the fact that the water was freezing and he was weighed down by clothing. Reaching the sand at last, he practically flew to the people waiting for him: Miriel, Manwathiel, and Marilla. When he saw their beautiful, smiling faces, he felt something he hadn't in a very long time: pure joy. The walls and barriers he had set around his heart were broken, and as he took Miriel into his arms and kissed her, everything felt right. Nothing could dampen his spirits, not even the fact that Legolas wasn't there. He would join them too, soon enough.

Marilla and Manwathiel hugged their father tightly as tears of happiness rolled down his face, mixing with the salty water of the sea. They had no blemishes or scars of the events resulting in their deaths, and Thranduil stood back to admire the three of them. Miriel started to sing a song of deep love and joy and wonder, her voice piercing his heart like it had back in Middle-earth, but seeming ten times more beautiful. He turned to his daughters with a smile so bright it could light up even the darkest places of Mirkwood and whispered so they could hardly hear, "Dance for me."