~Spring dawns among the ruins of Doriath, with a new king, and even children. Thranduil feels unusually hopeful. Will his happiness finally last?~

oOo

A New King

Menegroth, Doriath, First Age 503

Menegroth had become a city of ghosts. Gone were the silver animals and babbling fountains, gone were the merry voices and busy market stalls, and worse, the food was gone too; their stores of meat, lembas, dried fruits and preserves having been plundered by the dwarves just like everything else of value, and with so few survivors they had had a hard time replenishing them. As for the lembas, that was lost to Doriath for good.

Looking around among the assembled people, Thranduil saw signs of suffering in almost every face. With lack of food they had grown sallow and thin, and several still had ugly battle scars.

All citizens had gathered outside the provisionally repaired city gate, waiting to greet their new regent whose arrival had been announced by a forerunner earlier that day. Well, almost all of them – Oropher had claimed to have a headache and remained in bed. He had hardly left it at all since the battle.

A horn sounded cheerfully, and a large following emerged from under the eaves of the forest, with the king-to-be and his family walking in the front. Their colourful clothes, gleaming jewels and healthy looks contrasted sharply with the sorry crowd that welcomed them.

Behind the royals came another group of elves, all garbed in forest green and equipped with longbows. They must be Laegrim, Green-Elves of Ossiriand. The Laegrim were said to be great hunters and archers. Maybe they could help restock Menegroth's empty larders?

Feeling the first glimmer of hope in a long time, Thranduil moved his gaze to his new leader, Lúthien's son. Dior looked more mannish than elvish. He was broad shouldered and shorter than his wife, but his chin was smooth and his dark hair braided in the Doriath fashion. As if he had tried hard to make himself fit in.

Nimloth, his wife, was a relative of Celeborn, and had the same silvery hair colour as he. Two small children followed close on her heels.

"Greetings, my kin and friends," exclaimed Dior in a strong voice that easily carried to them all. "I bring good tidings in these dark times. The animals – for I refuse to call them anything else – who ruined your fair kingdom, are no more. Beren, my adar, hunted them down and ambushed them at Sarn Athrad, killing every last one. They have paid for their evil deeds!"

A murmur rose among the assembled, grim smiles breaking out in haggard faces. Nobody had forgotten the treatment they had received from the dwarves. Good riddance!

"The necklace of my grand adar was also retrieved and is now worn by my naneth, Lúthien," Dior continued. "Sadly the rest of the treasure was lost in the river, but despair not! With me I bring what I believe will be more welcome than silver and gems." He indicated a row of horse carts behind the Laegrim. "A bounty of food!"

This was met with an expectant cheer, but the merriment was interrupted by a strange sound, high pitched and easily carrying over the din. All eyes turned towards it, and an almost reverent silence commenced as the elves realised what had caused it. A baby. A pink head with tufts of brown hair had emerged from a sling across Nimloth's shoulder.

Thranduil felt a rare warmth in his chest. How long had it been since the last time there were elflings in the city? Centuries or more. Hearing the wailing baby now, he took it as a good omen, the beginning of something new. Doriath had already fallen just as Lúthien had foreseen in Galadriel's mirror – perhaps that meant it could rise out of the ashes again? A new spring dawning, where the kingdom would be rebuilt and brought back to its former glory. 

If so, Thranduil might have a future to look forward to, that was not entirely black.

oOo

Dior was crowned soon after his arrival, and the ensuing feast was so grand it surpassed anything that had been seen in Menegroth for decades. The whole realm was invited to share his bountiful table, laden with numerous delicious courses, and to see the radiant queen and her children up close. The king took time to speak with everyone who wanted, holding audiences well into the night, and the people left the party with strengthened hope and a growing love for their new regent.

The hopeful feelings did not abandon Thranduil. It gladdened him to see how soon the newcomers settled, and how well they fit in with the other citizens. The friendship and old bond between the Sindar and their distant Laegrim relatives had been renewed – and of course the food and other supplies they brought were more than welcome too.

Not surprisingly, the royal family became universally loved, particularly the children. The twin boys and their baby sister received so many gifts of homemade toys, clothes, blankets, sweets and bedding that Queen Nimloth had to commit a whole room in the palace to store them in, and they had hardly time to use a fraction of the clothes before they outgrew them.

The childrens' growth was particularly fascinating because they were part human. They were less developed than elflings of similar age would have been, but grew exceptionally fast. In a mere month the baby gained an inch and learned to hold her head up. 

Thranduil followed their progress with interest mingled with wistful memories of another little human he had watched grow up: Túrin. He hoped the fate of the twins and their sister would be less tragic.

King Dior turned out to be a humble and very diplomatic leader, showing interest in Doriath's traditions and how the city had been organised, and after re-employing Oropher as chief councillor – and asking him to perform the coronation! – the new king managed to dispel even his disapproval, which was a true feat. Of course, Oropher did not stop resenting that a stranger had been made king instead of him, but from then on he only complained about the unfairness in the privacy of their home, and it actually seemed that the amiability he showed Dior was not feigned.

Being the only captain left in Doriath, Thranduil was assigned another important task by the king, which he quite enjoyed, namely to be a coach for the newly recruited Laegrim march-wardens. They were already proficient archers, but only few of them had ever fought in a battle, and to be able to protect their new realm they needed to learn close combat. Every morning the training grounds filled with people sparring, performing fencing routines or practising fighting on horseback.

All in all, it seemed like it would be a good spring.

oOo

A couple of months after King Dior's coronation, Thranduil was on his way to another day of training. The pleasant smell of fresh wood filled the air, and he saw signs of rebuilding everywhere: repaired doors, market stalls once again loaded with foodstuffs and other necessities, new statues of trees and animals along the main street. The latter were not made of silver anymore, but of other materials available such as wood or clay.

Outside the rebuilt city gate he stopped, joining several onlookers who watched the queen with her two maids and the royal children. They were at the new playground that had been put together by many willing hands.

Under the watching eyes of the maids (and the audience), little Eluréd and Elurín were ascending a dead, barked tree that had had its branches shortened, making it perfect to practice climbing on. Meanwhile their sister Elwing slept on a blanket, well wrapped in furs. Her mother sat beside her, face upturned to catch some of the spring morning sun.

It was such a peaceful, idyllic scene, and it made Thranduil's chest ache to know that he would never have a family like that. Yet, the king's children were not an altogether bad substitute. If he could have no elflings of his own, at least he could watch over and care for his leader's.

He continued his walk, but not much later he was distracted again, this time by the sight of someone digging in the soft loam near the Esgalduin. It was an ellon with a coppery hair colour that was not uncommon among the Laegrim. He had turned over grass to expose the soil in a wide strip and made a row of holes in it.

Pausing, Thranduil regarded him. He was filling buckets from the river now, emptying them in the holes. What was he doing?

When he curiously went closer, the ellon straightened his back and greeted him with a smile. "Good morning, Captain!"

Thranduil recognised him now, he was Galion, one of the new recruits.

"I will come to practise soon, I must just finish planting those." Galion indicated a sack from which a bunch of cuttings protruded.

Thranduil picked one up and turned it over in his hands. He did not recognise the shape of its triangular leaves.

"I brought them with me from home," said Galion. "They are grapevines, if you know what that is?"

Thranduil shook his head. He returned the cutting to Galion, who placed it in one of the holes and filled it in with soil.

"They get berries that are very tasty. And you can make good wine with them."

At Thranduil's approving hum, Galion went into a lengthy description of the vineyard he had kept in Ossiriand, and the varieties of vine he had bred, trying to create one that would yield the most plentiful harvest and sweetest berries.

His enthusiasm reminded Thranduil of Amroth and his goat breeding efforts, and with a pang he realised how much he missed him. After Mablung's death in the dwarf attack, nobody remained here of the friends of his youth. Amroth was far away in the south with the others who had left.

"Ossiriand sounds like a lovely place," he said, attempting to steer his mind away from another person who was far away in the south – Aerneth.

"It is." Galion's gaze grew distant. "The land between the rivers is very fertile, so everywhere you look there are rich gardens, fields, fruit trees and a bounty of flowers. And many animals too, of course."

"I am a bit surprised so many of you left that for a city you had never been to."

"Lúthien persuaded us. She can be quite convincing." He grinned.

Thranduil well remembered the former princess' headstrongness. "How is she nowadays?"

"Well, both she and Beren are getting old, as mortals do, and her hair has turned white. But she still loves to dance." Galion had finished planting and washed his hands in the river.

"My naneth was from Ossiriand too," said Thranduil while they walked to the training grounds. "Her name was Eiriendîs, if you knew her? She moved away after the First Battle of Beleriand." To his surprise, he found that talking about his mother did not hurt as much as it used to. Maybe time really could heal wounds.

"I don't recognise that name, nay, but I am young and wasn't born yet during the First Battle. I will celebrate my fifteenth decade day next week."

"Congratulations in advance."

"Thank you. And actually... I have a few barrels of grape wine that I brought with me here, and I plan to open one for the occasion. Maybe you would like to come over and try it?"

Smiling in surprise, Thranduil accepted the offer. "It would be my pleasure."

oOo

Summer and autumn passed. Thranduil watched the king's children and Galion's vines grow, and so did his hope – until one late night when an ellon arrived in Doriath, a messenger from Ossiriand. He brought two things: the Silmaril in its necklace, and the news that Lúthien and Beren had passed away.

Lúthien's death dampened Thranduil's spirits like a wet blanket over fire, and the same went for everyone else, Sindar and Laegrim alike. An elleth they had known and loved was gone – really gone – in the way of mortals, and they would never see her again, even in Aman.

In addition, the Silmaril added a new cause for worry. Dior wore it around his neck just like his mother had done, and her father before her, which meant that rumours about it risked spreading with every visitor to the city.

The day after the gem had arrived, Oropher complained about the king's carelessness during supper. "I suggested that he place it in one of the vaults, but he refused. He said it is too beautiful to hide."

"Well, he does look handsome wearing it." Thranduil smiled wryly, though he really agreed with his father. It was good that the Silmaril was back in Doriath where it belonged, and Dior absolutely had the right to it – his father Beren had cut it from Morgoth's throne with his own hand, after all – but it was unwise to carry it so openly.

If the Dark Lord learned where it was, his balrogs, orcs and remaining dragons would crush the realm completely in their search for it. And then there were Fëanor's sons who might try to steal it. If they were still alive, that was; nothing had been heard from them since the Battle of Unnumbered Tears three decades ago.

But then again, it may not be so easy for anyone to find out about the Silmaril. Doriath rarely received visitors anymore, only messengers from Ossiriand now and then, and on a few occasions from the Mouths of Sirion. Not much trading went on between the elvish realms with the orc bands roaming the western plains making travelling dangerous.

And as for Morgoth, it seemed Melian's Girdle had both protected and kept Doriath hidden, for even now when she was gone his spies never entered the forest. Perhaps he thought it was only inhabited by humans.

Thranduil figured the Silmaril was probably quite safe, and his worry unfounded.

❈ ❦ ❈

A/N:

Galion will stick along with Thranduil for a while, and as you may remember he is one of the named characters in The Hobbit. He will always be quite fond of wine. ;)

Of elvish races: The first elves who awakened became four clans; Avari, Vanyar, Noldor and Teleri. The Teleri were later divided into Falmari, Sindar, Falathrim and Nandor (who in turn were divided into Silvan and Laegrim (Laiquendi)). This means the Sindar were fairly closely related to the Laegrim. (se below)

(click to enlarge)

Image Credits:

Elfling, screenshot from the Return of the King

Elven family tree: Fortmarinus.com