16Thranduil
Her long, dark, chocolate-brown hair cascades down her back, reaching to her waist and shimmering in the rays of sunlight that breaks through the canopy of leaves as she wanders throughout the forest.
Her pale blue dress falls around her slim body in gentle folds. She is fair, fairer than most. But it is her inner beauty and kindness to all that cross her path that captivates me the most. Nothing is too big nor too small for her love. It is endless.
She glides among the trees, her soft hands touching the rough bark, feeling the life beneath her fingers. The joy on her face burns my heart. I would go to the ends of the earth to ensure that expression of pure wonder and love remains on her face for all time. But it is the flowers she adores most of all. All kinds, all colours; they each hold her fascinated to their splendour. The Silvan blood running through her veins draws her to nature, as does her kindness and gentleness to all living things.
She turns to me as I stand there, watching her every move. She is beyond precious to me. She is my heart and soul. A smile graces her beautiful face, her dark silver eyes glinting with mirth, love, wonder, and many other emotions I could not begin to describe.
They captivate me, her eyes. Light sparkles in their depths and draws me towards her as she waits for me to reach her. She takes my hand in her smaller one and guides me deeper among the trees. She is tall, but not as tall as I. Her slender figure stands proudly alongside me.
We stop beside the river. On the bank grows a selection of wild flowers in the most exquisite array of colours; reds, yellows, blues, pinks, purples. It is a rainbow on earth.
She bends down; inhaling the sweet scent that surrounds the flowers. Her fingertips brush the petals, careful never to damage the delicate flower as she admires its beauty.
She glances up, almost as if to reassure herself that I am here. I touch her cheek with my fingertips, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, her pale skin soft and smooth under my touch.
I draw her up so she stands facing me, her eyes searching mine. I cup her face, and her eyes close. We move simultaneously. Her lips touch mine in the gentlest of kisses, her fingers tracing my jawline.
"Thranduil, meleth nín," she murmurs as I pull her closer to me. She is mine, this creature of everlasting beauty. My Elvéwen. My Queen of Greenwood.
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