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~ 000 – Reminiscing and Finding ~
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"We are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it."
~ Rick Warren, The Purpose Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here for?
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He was a great king, a wise ruler.
He was a powerful warrior, as if he were born with the sword.
He was a dear and loving father, of his three lovely offspring.
He was a caring and passionate husband to his beautiful wife, when she was still alive.
Death had consumed the Elvenking Oropher of Greenwood the Great during the War of the Last Alliance, as it had consumed many.
For many long years the war had lasted; in which the Last Alliance proved victorious, but not without a heavy price.
One third of the Sindarin ranks fell, with slightly over half of the remaining two thirds sustaining terrible injuries – physical, mental, emotional and spiritual – that would take quite the time to heal. Similar could be said about the Silvan ranks, as a little over half of them perished in battle. And Valar only knows the numbers upon numbers of Men, Dwarves and the other sub-races of the Elves that have fallen.
It was during the Battle of Dagorlad, in the middle of the sixth year of the war, as Thranduil Oropherion remembered so very clearly . . .
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The tips of his long and soft platinum blond hair became an almost black-like red as he plunged his sword into the orc's heart. He was so very tired. Mentally tired. He kicked the now-dead orc in the gut to free his sword.
Piercing icy sapphire eyes darted to the left as he swiftly pulled out his dagger and threw it whilst turning his full body to the left. The dagger lodged itself at another orc, in between the eyes. As the orc fell, he moved to quickly retrieve his dagger and shoved it back into its shaft for later use.
"Prince Thranduil! Le adel!"
Said ellon pivoted to the right and raised his sword to block his current attacker. As this orc did not wear a helmet, Thranduil sought the opportunity to punch the orc in the face, causing him to loosen his grip on the sword. Thranduil knocked the orc's sword away and beheaded his opponent.
"Le hannon, Captain!" Thranduil called out, but the Sindarin captain only nodded in acknowledgement as an orc became his new opponent.
The Elven prince quickly analyzed the situation as he fought his next few opponents. The Alliance was clearing the Morannon's plains. They were almost to the Black Gate, where fearsome attack trolls and heavily armed orcs stood guard, waiting for the Alliance's advancement. Thranduil caught a glimpse of his father, Elvenking Oropher, and his father's battalion fighting closer to the Black Gate.
He had also caught a glimpse of an orc captain ordering one of the attack trolls standing guard to join the battle.
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Hearing heavy stomps on the ground, Elvenking Oropher of the Woodland Realm swiftly turned around and prepared himself from the upcoming attack of the troll advancing towards him. The troll roared as it begun its attack on the Elvenking. Oropher blocked it with somewhat ease: The troll was strong and its sword was heavy. He kept blocking the troll's attacks until he sought opportunity.
Oropher pulled out his sharp dagger as he blocked yet another attack with his sword. He swiftly managed to cut through two of the troll's thick fingers, causing the troll to drop its sword and roar in pain. The troll tried to grab Oropher with its uninjured hand, but said king ducked and used the arm of the troll's injured hand to climb the troll. When the ellon managed to get on the troll's back, he stabbed at it. The troll fell to its knees, but it was not dead.
Oropher balanced himself on the troll's upper back and right shoulder. He rose his sword above the troll's neck when he all of a sudden, felt a searing pain through the back of his left shoulder. The Elvenking briefly yelled in pain as an orc arrow pierced the back of his left shoulder. He dodged his head to the right when another arrow whizzed past him. He then raised his sword again above the troll's neck, and brought it down, beheading the troll.
The ellon still stood on the body of the troll and had just realized that not only was the Last Alliance's army advancing forward, but the remaining of the fearsome attack trolls and heavily armed orcs were also advancing forward.
The Noldorin archers were still on the hill tops; firing at the orcs situated at the top of the Black Gate, and using the jagged rocks as protection from incoming arrows.
As soon as Oropher jumped from the troll, another arrow pierced him on his side. He took a few steps back and swore in Elvish, as he broke the arrow shaft in half.
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Thranduil panicked when the second arrow pierced his father. It had probably hit a vital organ. It was more than likely poisoned, too.
The Sindarin prince growled as he tried to fight his way through the heavily armed orcs, complete with thick armour. He noticed a troll advancing towards him, and prepared himself, when an arrow whizzed past his right ear and lodged itself into the incoming troll's left eye.
Thranduil turned his head slightly to the right and noticed Aeluin, his younger brother by three hundred years, notching two arrows on his bow and taking aim.
The arrows released as the troll roared.
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Thranduil walked slow, weary steps along the Morannon. The bodies of the dead seemed to go on as far as the eye can see. Most likely farther, too. And then there was that stench that seemed like a thick fog, blanketing the entire area . . .
He then stood by his father; who was bloodied, deathly pale, with an orc sword protruding through his abdomen. There was a deep gash across his throat, and a trickle of blood down the right side of his lips. Oropher's widely opened eyelids displayed ethereal sapphire eyes that seemed to be focused on something non-existent in the sky. The Sinda prince continued to look into those eyes.
Thranduil did not grieve. He would save that for another time.
He felt a presence in front of him and caught a glimpse at the orc sword unsheathing from his father's body and being thrown away. The ellon that did this fell on both knees and slightly hunched over the late Elvenking with ragged breaths. Thranduil turned his gaze towards the familiar head of long and slightly bloodied platinum blond hair.
Aeluin . . .
Thranduil knelt down on one knee and gently placed his right hand over their father's eyes, closing his eyelids. He glanced at Aeluin, who tried to control his sobs, and stood up.
With a solid straight posture and a right hand over his heart, Thranduil looked at Oropher: "Adar, may you find eternal peace and happiness with Naneth within the Halls of Mandos."
"Muindor?"
Thranduil looked towards the ellon who called him. Aeluin gazed at his older brother with icy blue eyes of vengeance and determination. The now unofficial King of Greenwood returned the gaze with no emotion. He then nodded, turned and walked . . .
. . . Before Aeluin could see a lone tear cascading down his cheek.
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Thranduil sat on his large, antler-like throne, in his halls of Eryn Galen. He rapidly blinked thrice, for he had just awoke from a somewhat deep elven sleep. But that was twenty-one years ago. Why do I dream of that now?
The young Elvenking pondered for a bit: What did Galion inform him of earlier? Oh, right! His older sister by two hundred and fifty years shall be returning in a few days' time from her visit in Imladris.
Ah, dear Thranéal.
"You would think Muinthel fancies some elf at Imladris, with all of her constant and joyous visits there," Aeluin strolled in with a smile, almost reading his brother's thoughts. "I daresay a certain Balrog Slayer."
Thranduil smirked. "She would deny it."
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Thranéal exited the forest of Lothlórien atop her trotting, glowing white Elven stallion. She was currently smiling, as she had just found out that her friend, the High March warden Halírion, was going to be a father.
Thranéal loved elflings. They were beyond adorable. Too much for words. She would squeal in delight and her younger brothers would cover their ears.
She found the light breeze ever so refreshing, as it whipped her beautiful and long pale golden hair. She then brought her stallion, Eryn, into a full gallop across the grassy plains.
About halfway the distance from Lórien to Greenwood, Thranéal halted Eryn, who snorted. The Greenwood Princess hurriedly dismounted and made way to the unconscious figure a few feet away.
She dropped to her knees and examined the figure: A simple and thin plain white dress that surprisingly did not seem dirty. Long and straight platinum blonde hair that looked intensely soft. Thranéal checked the figure's ears, only to see that they were pointed.
"What is an elleth doing here?" Thranéal pondered. With the cleanliness of this unconscious elleth and the extreme lack of travel equipment, or even a personal effect; it was as though she had just appeared.
Eryn just snorted and stomped his hoof in impatience.
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Le Adel – Behind You
Le Hannon – Thank You
Adar – Father
Naneth – Mother
Muindor – Brother (Family)
Muinthel – Sister (Family)
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