A red dawn comes today, with myriad shades of that colour sweeping the sky—red like Thranduil's delicious Dorwinion wine, red like the vast cloak he likes to wear, and red like the blood that has tainted the ground. Elvish blood. Spilled in defence of their home.

Elves were mourning throughout the night. They mourned for their fallen comrades, and for their lost Star. Shrines have been laid around the place where I disappeared, as a little collection of beauty in a garden brought to ruin. It was a miracle that all my friends have survived to mourn for me, and a miracle that Thranduil has eventually moved from where he had been knelt for hour upon hour. He has retreated into the depths of the trees we used to walk among together, and submerged himself beneath the budding spring branches. He has not spoken a word to anyone. It seems Legolas knew to leave his father alone, and decided to take charge of assigning healers and cleaning up the mess in the aftermath of the carnage.

The feeling of seeing Thranduil like this is enough to make me throw myself from the sky, but I hold on.  The descent must be careful, not reckless and fuming with emotion.  It will all be alright once I'm down there—not that I'll be much help in restoring the Woodland Realm to its former beauty.  That will simply have to come with time.

I brace myself for the Fall. Varda resolves not to abandon physical form, seemingly so she can smile knowingly at me while I take that fateful step through the glamour that separates my realm of origin from my realm of choice. This step has never been taken voluntarily, not by me or anyone else. Looking across the forest swaying beneath the strips of cloud, I see the scarlet sun peek above the glowing horizon—as it comes up, a Star comes down.

It's over before I even realise it started. 

We pause.  Thranduil and I, face to face, once again.  He struggles to utter the first word.

'Elena?'

'Yes, Thranduil.  I'm here.'

Tears spring into my eyes as he gingerly picks up my cold hand in his own, tracing circles lightly across the back with his thumb.

'Meleth nín... I thought I'd lost you forever.'

Without a moment's pause he wraps me in his arms and cradles me tighter than he has ever done before, pressing me into his armoured chest.  In turn, I throw my arms around his waist and cling on for dear life, now openly sobbing onto him.  I'm here, back on the ground for good, feeling the fresh soil sink in between my bare toes and inhaling the scent of damp earth blending with the familiar warmth of Thranduil's neck.  I'm here with him, with his heartbeat in my ear, and that's everything I need.

We stay locked in this firm embrace until Thranduil pulls out to speak again, tears now gleaming in his own crystal eyes.  'You're alive—you're not hurt, you're—what happened to you?'  He reaches out to touch my hands, my shoulders, then my neck, and as he runs one hand along the slope of my jaw, the other slips round to caress the back of my head.

I cannot answer him.  The minuscule amount of distance between us disappears as my lips, so indomitably drawn to his and curving into an overjoyed smile, close the gap.  Our kiss overwhelms me to the point where I know not whether I'm grounded or floating.  I could be soaring above the Stars and beyond the borders of the universe.  I could be a Queen of the heavens, and Thranduil could be my King.

'Elena...' Thranduil murmurs, leaning his forehead against mine, 'you're here.  You're here...'

'It was Varda,' I breathe at last, 'Varda took me to the sky and told me everything.  I know what my task is.'

'And what is it?'

'In whatever way I could, I had to save your life and help you connect your kingdom with the Stars.  It was part of the Valar's plan to save Middle Earth from Sauron.'

Thranduil furrows his brows.  'Connect it with the Stars?  How?'

'In any way possible,' I reply, 'Varda wishes to form an alliance called Erthelin, and I just need to gain your consent before our kingdoms can be linked.'

'Of course, I grant it, but I—I need to tell you something.'  He pauses, gently stroking the side of my neck.  'Go to the place where I took you that night, after you cleared Ellerian's statue.  I will meet you there.'

'But I do not remember the way!' I exclaim.

Thranduil laughs softly.  'Wait by the statue then, and I will show you the way myself.'

While wondering what in Arda he has planned for me, I nod and touch Thranduil's lips lightly with my own before slipping from his grasp.  His eyes are galaxies, and he looks at me as though I am his universe, just like he is mine.

Granted, parting ways is difficult, but I know it is only for a short while.  I waited long enough to return to him, I can wait a few minutes more.  The woodland is oddly quiet as I make my solitary way down its paths, as it lacks in the usual morning birdsong and the hum of Elvish conversations, with the only sound being the blossoming trees rustling in the spring breeze.  My stay here has been an opportune time to witness the bloom of the trees, the flowers from which adorn Thranduil's crown in these pleasant months.  If anything survived the coming of the orcs, it was the trees—ancient, steadfast, and full of memories of this realm from a time when Thranduil did not have the burdens he carries now.

It is somewhat strange to return a third time to Ellerian's statue, this time in daylight.  This time, I can feel Naurfaen in its scabbard slapping against my side, and I have experienced so much that I had never dreamed of on my last visit.  The dead Queen is bathed in red-hued sunlight today, accentuating her fine features and the delicate build masked by her layered gown, and is complemented by the stunning backdrop of the blossoms tinted peach in the dawn beams.  It pleases me to know that the statue can breathe, so to say, in her little forest idyll.  I vow to make sure she is always able to do so.

Thranduil takes only ten minutes or so, and his arrival breaks the tranquil reverie that I have immersed myself in.  'What are you thinking, meleth?' he asks kindly, coming to stand by my side in front of Ellerian.  I might have imagined it, but as Thranduil interlocks his fingers with mine, her stone eyes portray something close to... approval.

'Many things,' I say, struggling to concoct an answer he won't see as ridiculous, 'it's just... I'm not the same Star you found in that lake.'

He looks innocently confused.

'I've changed, and I think it is for the better,' I continue, turning to face him properly.  He seems more intrigued than puzzled now, so I elaborate.  'You changed me, Thranduil.  You made me feel like I could belong here.'

His only reply being a smile, Thranduil tugs a little at my hand until I begin to walk alongside him away from the statue.  'Come this way,' he whispers finally, leading me to retrace the steps we took on that night.  That night when Thranduil had taken me under the Stars and reminded me how hard I was going to find it when I left him... a prospect I have, frankly, obliterated.

The memories of our path that night come back to me in fleeting fragments, each step under Anor revealing a step under Ithil that had since sunk into the wilderness of my mind.  We ascend that staircase we had climbed before, and stand emerging from the mass of leaves on that high platform which had held us all those days ago. The green canopy is tinted red and gold in the glow of the sunrise, which illuminates Thranduil's hair from behind and glints off his circlet in a thousand directions. It is no longer a dawn red with blood—it is red with the fire ignited inside my heart whenever my eyes rest upon my King.

'Close your eyes,' he says softly.  I obey.  'What do you see?'

'Nothing,' I answer truthfully.

'Rub them. Can you see the Stars?'

I do as he says, until scintillating sparkles start to appear in the abyss behind my eyelids.  'Yes, meleth. I can.'

'Stay like that for a moment.'

I feel him slip something cold onto my finger.  A thin band of metal... a ring, seemingly smaller than those elaborate specimens he has decorating his own fingers.  My heart begins to thunder violently behind my ribs.

'Now open your eyes,' is his final command.  When I obey, I am greeted with the sight of a delicate silver ring, curving almost into a v-shape along the back of my finger, and lined with tiny jewels along one side.  My lips immediately break into a smile, but I find myself utterly speechless.

Thranduil clears his throat.  'I know it is not a custom among my people to give rings like men do, but this ring belonged to my mother. Ellerian never had it, for I had treasured it too much to ever give it away. But no longer am I holding onto the past. I am giving this to you because I want you to be with me for the rest of time, as my wife and Queen.'

It takes every ounce of my effort not to burst into a mess of squeals and tears.  'I will, meleth,' I say.

Thranduil returns my smile and leans in to place a quick kiss on my lips.

When we finish, I take another, more detailed look at the ring.  'It's so beautiful...' I breathe, watching as the minute silver gems glitter in the sunlight, scattering its delicate rays. It looks like a miniature version of the circlet Thranduil tends to wear, and is in fact wearing at this very moment.

'It is called Mîrceleb—jewelled silver.'

Mîrceleb.  I will treasure it forever.  'Thank you,' I say, as the happy tears begin to cloud my vision, 'and I mean for everything.  Last time we came to this place, we said we would complete my task together.  It seems to be coming true.'

'This would mean... you stay here... you don't go back...'

'I'm not going back. I'm not leaving you again.'  I take a breath, running one finger along the jewel-studded edge of Mîrceleb.  'But are you sure this is possible? I'm—I'm not much of a Queen.'

'Perhaps not yet, but you can be,' Thranduil says determinedly, taking my ring-bearing hand in his own, 'your friends believe in you—I believe in you. We are all with you.'

'Then my task... shall be fulfilled.'

I am far too elated to register where exactly it is Thranduil is taking me next.  When we do stop walking, he urges me to hang back while he walks out to a crowd of elves who were gathered listening to instructions from Legolas.  Upon seeing their King emerge after hours of isolation, a murmur breaks out among the elves, but Thranduil seems undeterred as he steps out before them.  Through the gaps in the trees, I can see Tauriel stood beside Legolas, both of their faces grave and Tauriel's showing the telltale stains of tears.  Somewhere in the mass must be Gelya and her family, for the top of Elidir's dark head is visible among it.

Thranduil casts a glance over his shoulder, and subtly beckons for me to step forward.  'Your future Queen.'

***

Elvish:
Anor = Sun
Ithil = Moon

Have any of you seen The Fall?  If you have, I hope you noticed the couple of lines I sneaked in back there... ;)