Thranduil glared at the terrified elf standing before him. "What
did you say?" He asked in a dangerously low voice. The elf
trembled as he spoke.
"We
- we cannot foresee an end to the freeze my Lord. All our calculations
have been proven wrong; we have nothing more to go on. My Lord,
food is running low, if the winter does not end soon, people
will begin to starve."
Thranduil
glared icily at the young elf. "Well then, you will just
have to give them yours, won't you?" He turned his attention
to the guards. "Throw him in the dungeons. Do not let him
out until spring." The elf looked horrified as the guards
moved towards him and took his arms.
"My
lord, please! It was not my doing! Have mercy, I beg you!"
His pleas fell on deaf ears though, as the cold-hearted king
turned away.
When
the unfortunate elf had been removed, Thranduil stood and walked
over to the window. He looked out at the frozen lands and scowled.
"When will the spring come? It has been winter for much
too long!"
//There
once was a King, who called for the spring,
For
his world was still covered in snow,
But the spring had not been,
For he was wicked and mean,
In his winter fields nothing would grow.//
King
Thranduil cared little for his people's welfare. His only concern
was his own well being and for the power that being ruler gave
him. Nobody defied him, nobody dared. His rule was absolute
and he had enough followers to ensure that he was never challenged.
He ruled his lands with a fist of iron and a heart of ice. His
heart was as cold as the frozen world that surrounded him.
The
blizzard had been raging for days. It was folly to even attempt
to go outside, yet deep in the woods, a lone figure battled
through the snow, desperately trying to reach the palace. Though
it had been cold, it had not been snowing when she set out.
She had thought that she would reach the palace with few problems.
But the blizzard had surprised her and her journey had taken
three times as long as she had anticipated. Her food was long
gone, she had had no rest for days and she was horribly weak.
Even elven healing was not enough to sustain her in those conditions.
Hunching lower on the back of her horse, she pressed on.
Eventually,
the palace came into view. She breathed a sigh of relief. She
needed to get out of the bitter weather. Struggling up to the
massive doors, she rang the bell.
//And
when a traveller called, seeking help at the door,
Only food and a bed for the night,
He ordered his slave to turn her away,
The girl with April in her eyes.//
"Please!"
She begged as the soldier closed the door in front of her. "Do
not leave me out here!"
"I
am sorry my lady." Said the soldier, with what sounded
like genuine regret. "I would aid you if I could, but I
can not disobey orders." Indeed, Thranduil had been furious
that he had even asked if he might let the maiden in. He had
been sure that he would be cast into the dungeons, like so many
others. Though he was a soldier, in the end, he was but a slave
to his King's will. Shaking his head, he closed the door fully.
Tears
slipped down her face as she turned away. She could not go home,
for the shame would be too much to bear. Instead, she headed
deeper into the forest, hoping that she might somehow find a
place to rest.
//Oh,
oh, oh, on and on she goes,
Through the winter's night, the wild wind and the snow,
Hi, hi, hi, on and on she rides,
Someone help the girl with April in her eyes.//
She
was frozen. The night had brought a bitter wind and yet more
snow. Her fingers were numb and she was perilously close to
losing consciousness. The tears that she had cried on being
turned away from the palace had frozen to her cheeks and her
lips had turned blue. Her elven glow had all but faded away,
leaving only a spark of life in the icy body. Yet remarkably,
the shining blue of her eyes still remained. Eyes that still
guided her through the cruel night.
//She
rode through the night,
Till she came to the light,
Of a humble man's home in the woods.//
The
cottage had appeared as if out of nowhere. As soon as she had
seen it, she had made for it as if a thousand orcs were chasing
her. "Please." She prayed. "Let me find shelter
here. I can go on no longer."
The
sole occupant of the cottage, an elderly human man, rose from
his chair at the sound of a knocking on the door, curious as
to who could possibly be out in this storm. Opening the door,
he gasped in shock at the sight of the frozen elf maiden standing
there.
"Please."
She whispered. "Help me." He did not hesitate and
pulled her inside. Ushering her over to the fireplace, he sat
her down in a comfortable chair. Gently, he removed her soaked
cloak - and got a huge shock. The elf-maiden was heavily pregnant,
the swelling of her stomach clearly visible in the firelight.
"Oh,
by the gods!" He cried and ran to fetch a blanket. Quickly
he wrapped her in it and made some hot tea.
"Thank
you." She whispered as she clasped the mug in her frozen
hands.
"You
are welcome." He told her. "My name is Alatar."
She smiled weakly.
"I
am Viresse." She replied. He laid his hand on her shoulder.
"I
welcome you to my home, Viresse, Elf-Maiden." He said.
"But if I might ask, what is someone in your condition
doing out in such bitter weather?" A look of pain crossed
the elf-maiden's face.
"I
was travelling to the palace - but I was turned away. I could
not go home either, I was simply seeking shelter." She
told him. Alatar frowned.
"I
do not understand." He said. "Why could you not go
home?" Viresse sighed deeply and began to tell Alatar her
story.
*Several
months previously*
It
had been the mid-winter festival. None had realised at the time
that the winter would last for so long and all were in high
spirits. The atmosphere had been wonderful, with different foods,
many games and plenty of entertainment. Viresse, along with
several of her friends, had been entertaining the crowds with
complicated dancing displays.
The King, on one of his rare public appearances, had witnessed
their dances and had been rather taken with Viresse's skill
and beauty. When the maidens had finished, he had approached
her and 'requested' that she be his companion for the evening.
In no position to refuse, she had quickly consented. Thranduil
had taken her to the banqueting hall and ordered that she sit
beside him. She had done so and was rewarded by the finest food
and wine in the lands. However, she had been somewhat unfamiliar
with the potent wine and had unknowingly drunk too much. When
Thranduil had taken her to his bed-chamber, she had not protested.
The following morning she had been shocked and more than a little
hurt, when he thanked her casually for her 'services' and dismissed
her with out so much as the offer of breakfast.
Upset,
she had returned to her friends and made the journey back to
her home at the edge of the forest.
She
had hoped to forget the incident altogether, but that had proven
impossible two months later, when she had discovered her condition.
She had hidden the pregnancy for as long as she could, but eventually
she could conceal it no longer. He friends and family had been
shocked and demanded that she speak with the King. She had not
wanted to, but they had insisted and so she had set out. Two
days later the blizzard had started. She had fought through
the elements in her desperate attempt to reach the palace -
only to be turned away before the King had even heard her plea.
*************************
"Which
lead me to you." She finished the story with a sad smile.
Alatar was saddened by her tragic tale. No one deserved to be
used as she had been. He went to speak, but as he did she cried
out and clutched her stomach. Alatar rushed to her side. "What
is wrong?" He cried.
"The
baby!" She gasped. "It is coming! I thought these
were merely the usual cramps, but they are not! Oh Valar no!
It's too soon! I am not due for another month!" Alatar
jumped up. Years ago, when he'd still had a family of his own;
he'd helped his wife deliver their son. It had been many years
since then, but the memories remained. They would guide him
through this. He quickly guided the frightened elf to the bed
and helped her prepare for the birth of her child.
//He
brought her inside,
By the firelight she died
And he buried her gently and good.//
A
scream rent the air, followed by a cry. "It is a boy!"
Alatar cried. He quickly severed the umbilical cord with a knife
and wrapped the babe in a blanket before handing him to Viresse.
Yet the joy that should have come from the birth was lost to
Alatar, for he knew that Viresse had used the last of her strength
to bring her child into the world. Even now, her breathing was
shallow and laboured. She did not have long.
"Do
you have a name?" He asked gently. She nodded.
"He
is my spring - my Greenleaf - my Legolas." She whispered
weakly.
"Legolas."
Alatar repeated. "He will make you proud, I am sure."
A tear slipped down Viresse's cheek.
"I
wish I could see him grow up." She said. Alatar closed
his eyes briefly. She knew.
"I
swear," he said, "I will find a good home for him.
He will be loved and he will know of your love."
"Thank
you." She whispered. She leaned forward and placed a kiss
on the child's forehead. "I will always be with you."
She told him softly.
Then
she took a last shuddering breath and the light left her blue
eyes for the last time.
//Oh
the morning was bright,
All the world was snow-white
But when he came to the place where she lay,
His field was ablaze with flowers on the grave
Of the girl with April in her eyes.//
It
had finally stopped snowing. Thranduil had wasted no time in
ordering his favourite mount to be made ready. He had been trapped
inside the palace for far too long. It had begun to feel like
a prison.
Now
he rode through the forest, alone except for his horse. The
air was cold around him and the promise of more snow hung in
the air. Still, he was determined to make the most of this brief
reprieve from the blizzards.
He
rode without really knowing where he was going, intent only
on solitude. Deeper and deeper into the forest he went, taking
little notice of the white world that surrounded him.
A
flash of colour suddenly caught his attention. Curious about
what could break through all this snow, he turned and headed
towards the source. What he saw when he passed through the trees
astounded him. Flowers. The whole field was ablaze with blooms
in all the colours of the rainbow. They covered the field with
incredible colours, breaking through the snow. He was stunned.
How was this possible? Then, at the far end of the field, his
sharp eyes caught a carved post underneath a tree. Dismounting,
he walked through the field with unusual care, not wishing to
trample any of the blooms. He reached the post and read the
words carved lovingly in westron.
"Here
lies Viresse Elf-Maiden,
May she find eternal peace."
Thranduil
was shocked that an elf maiden had been in this part of the
woods. His people rarely ventured here. It was too close to
the humans. There was something else too. "Viresse."
He murmured. "I know that name." He frowned as he
struggled to remember. "Ah yes! The dancer from the festival!
But what was she doing here and what befell her?" He did
not know that it had been she who had knocked on his door a
few nights ago, for he had not even bothered to take the name
of the one who dared to interrupt him. Looking around, he saw
a thin column of smoke rising through the trees. Knowing it
must be coming from a dwelling, he walked quickly towards it,
seeking answers.
//Oh,
oh, oh, on and on she goes,
Through the winter's night, the wild wind and the snow,
Hi, hi, hi, on and on she flies,
She is gone, the girl with April in her eyes.//
Alatar
held the three-day-old elfling gently in his arms. He was doing
his best to care for the child, but he had not been around children
for many years and he knew almost nothing about elves. When
the weather improved, he would have to make the journey to the
Elven kingdom in the centre of the forest, to place the child
with his kin. A soft smile graced his face. Ah, but he would
miss the child! Already, the tiny elf had found a place in his
heart.
Glancing
out of the window, he gasped in shock as he saw a tall blond
figure heading towards his cottage. A figure who bore a startling
resemblance to the child he now held. Placing Legolas in the
hastily constructed crib, Alatar hurried to the door. He knew
that the elf could only be King Thranduil, though why the King
was here he knew not. He waited in silence as the King approached.
Thranduil
took in the sight of the old man at the cottage door. The human
offered as small bow as he reached the door. "Welcome,
my Lord." He said, an undertone of deep suspicion in his
voice. Thranduil almost smiled. The cheek of humans never ceased
to amaze him. Never one to waste words, he spoke his thoughts.
"There
is a grave in the field yonder that bears the name of one of
my people. Do you know what befell her?" Alatar's suspicion
flared and his patience snapped. Damn this Elf-King! It was
he who had caused Viresse's death!
"Why
do you care?" He said sharply. "You never worried
before!" Thranduil's eyes opened wide and he felt his anger
rising. No one spoke to him thus!
"She
was an elf." He said coldly. "I have a right to know
how any of my people died." Alatar glared and spat the
truth at the King.
"It
was you! You left her pregnant after the mid-winter festival;
you turned her away when she looked to you for help! Her death
is on your head!" Thranduil didn't know what to say. His
usual anger had strangely vanished. One word was over-riding
all others.
"Pregnant?"
He asked in a voice he didn't recognise as his own. Alatar's
voice softened a little when he saw the stunned look on the
King's face.
"Aye."
He said. Then he turned and walked into the cottage, Thranduil
close behind. He went to the crib and picked the sleeping child
up. Something twisted inside of the King as the human walked
towards him, carrying the newborn elf. With trepidation, for
he knew the Kings reputation, he handed the babe to the King.
"His
name is Legolas." He said softly.
Thranduil
stared in wonder at the babe he held. His son. Sensing a new
presence, Legolas shifted in his father's arms. His eyelids
fluttered and as his blue eyes opened for the first time, taking
in the sight of his father, spring came at last to the land
of Eryn Lasgalen and to the heart of the Winter King.
THE
END
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