The afternoon sun glitters beautifully across the marble bridges that connect the King's Halls to the wider forest. Everything seems to shimmer a warm golden hue - so telling of late and lazy Greenwood summers.

No clouds shadow the overhead crystal blue skies, nothing but a light breeze moves the very slightest of brush stroke wisps across the horizon.

The trees barely sway, only their green leaves rustle harmoniously creating a woodland song so perfect that not even an elven voice will interrupt it to sing. The vast array of birds and peaceful forest creatures add to the majestic symphony, and I wonder inwardly are they barely aware of how sublimely perfect their timing is. Do they know of whom their melodious welcome extends to...do they know the new King has come home?

Standing by the enchanted doors of our great home in the carven rock, I quietly scan the crowds before me. The sight of many green banners lifted high fills me with an unshakeable pride. Fair elven faces all turned away to the opening gates, each and every one of them standing tall to honour their returning warriors.

A silence has descended among the people as we all hold our breath in anticipation of what we might see when our army finally spills through those protective gates.

I barely notice that my fingers are in tight knots when Ollie stretches out and takes my hand with hers. The both of us look to each other for calm and strength in this moment, her beautiful turquoise eyes dazzle in her heart shaped face, her perfectly dimpled smile reminding me that I should do the same. So I breathe in deeply and paint a serene smile across my face.

Behind me I hear Gilron blow out a nervous sigh, and Tinuben murmurs something quietly which makes her chuckle. Calanon and Olben, along with the disgraced remnants of the council stand just slightly to my right and a few feet ahead. The noble lords should always be the first to meet their new Sovereign.

I have chosen to keep both the children out of the public eye for the moment. This is simply because they have been separated from their father for several long years. The moment of their reunion should be a private affair, without the prying eyes of the entire Kingdom watching them. I want to give Thranduil a minute to compose himself, this is surely overwhelming for him, and even more so when he sees the huge difference between the boy and the baby he left, and the youth and the child that he will meet now. No, I want that reunion to be just about family, no intrusions and no pretense, just us and what I hope to be many happy tears.

The drums suddenly sound, and the welcoming chorus of horns herald in the return of the soon to be King and his warriors. I am brought out of my thoughts with a jolt, and suddenly I am craning to see the approach of the army. My heart hammers loudly in my chest, and it takes all my self-control to instruct my feet to be still. Instead I smooth down the golden panel of my light mint dress, and continue to breathe deeply.

I must not show emotion, I must remain regal and composed; I must be strong for all of them. I must, I must, I must, I...

"Thranduil?" His name comes as a whisper from my lips, because I feel him. I feel that wonderful warmth of his energy flow to me, his calling feä so beautiful that my heart actually stutters and tightens in response. Tears prick my eyes as my toe inches forward - no I mustn't I must stay still.

It is so alien and unnatural for the elven spirit to resist its response to the call of their mate, that I actually feel a little disorientated. Ollie's hand tightens around mine again, but when I look at her this time I realize she to feels the same strain, and so we both resolve to hold each other back.

When I gain composure over my senses again I turn my eyes to the approaching mass of warriors. It strikes me that so few have returned - less than I would have anticipated after my intervening with the armour. Then I realise not all of the warriors can walk, and many are being transported in crudely constructed carts or stretchers. Many of the depleted stock of horses have been put to work hauling these carts, or carrying those not fit to walk. When I don't automatically see familiar faces I begin to panic, my serene smile slowly slipping into a frantic frown.

Then I see him, and my face crumples further as I turn to Ollie to steady her.

"Aradan!" She cries, and steps forward so I slide a protective arm around her waist; "My Aradan...Clara he...oh Eru no...not my Aradan!"

"It's alright Ollie, look he is able to get up without help, don't panic, it is nothing to fear." I soothe as best I can as she openly sobs.

I watch how my beloved friend, and once fearless Captain of the guard, hauls himself determinedly out of a cart with his only remaining hand. He is sallow, exhausted, much thinner than I remembered, and his once mischievous eyes are dull and hallow in his sunken face. War has been cruel to him, war has broken him, yet still he strides full of confidence towards a horse and huddle of still able guards. He pauses briefly to receive a staff of some kind from a young looking squire who appears to scuttle dutifully after him.

I crane my neck as I try to glimpse through the mess of muddy elves in worn and dirty green armour, for I can spy the familiar jet black of strong powerful legs belonging to only one horse.

I am suddenly aware of Gilron - or maybe it was Tinuben - gently prying a shaken Olliel from my grasp as I step curiously towards the scene. It takes but a moment for the sound of a muffled groan of pain to reach my keen ears, and suddenly my spirit flares in acknowledgment.

In a moment the group disperses and I am met with the very familiar sight of a shock of platinum hair, broad shoulders, and the most exquisite pair of deeply unfathomable silver-blue eyes I will ever have the fortune to behold.

For the briefest second Thranduil is slightly bent over, like he clutches his stomach painfully, but in a heartbeat he is standing rod straight with his face trained into a look devoid of any emotion. Yet only to the trained eye would one know that this was merely a mask, for I know my mate and I know when he is riddled with anxiety. I know by the slight downturn of his lip, the little quiver of his fingers as they tap out one ghost rhythm on the staff he holds, and I know almost certainly by how high he holds his chin - it is bravado, a sign of his inner doubt.

I watch helplessly as he is assaulted by the council and noble elves of the realm, and I barely listen as the discussion unfolds.

Thranduil only answers when spoken too, just to confirm or elaborate on the facts of his father's death as retold by Aradan and the other guards. Halfway through the little official discussion I spy his eyes drift, and again my feä spikes feverishly in response to his resounding call. It is becoming increasingly difficult to stay put for it feels like my spirit is lashing about so violently, stretching itself to the obscene, in its vain attempt to finally feel the relief of completion, to be joined with the other half of itself.

When I feel like I cannot be still for a second longer, nor will I be able to stop my lips from calling out my husband's name, Thranduil's gaze lands on me...and suddenly the world goes quiet.

I stand frozen to the spot, at the very top of the stairs that lead into the King's Halls...Thranduil's Halls...his city...his Kingdom.

I watch as he utters something to the guards, and to the nobles that corner him. I know it must be harsh and biting, for all of them automatically separate to allow him freedom to ascend the steps towards me. Yet, not for a second do our gazes ever drift from each other. I register how my chest heaves with each quick and laboured breath, for suddenly it feels like there is no air left and I cannot breathe.

And then he is within my reach, his fingers reaching out to entwine with my quivering outstretched hands.

"Thranduil," I mutter aloud, but barely for my voice is only a faint whisper; his answering smile enough to shatter my heart into a million tiny pieces.

In answer he draws one of my hands upwards to place on his left cheek. I feel like I have stopped breathing when my fingers stretch and stroke the skin there, like they always did in the past.

Yes, he liked this, it brought him calm and it settled him. I watch how his smile fades, and he automatically leans into my palm as his eyes flutter closed for just the briefest of moments. When they open again, he smiles and pulls my palm to his lips to kiss briefly, and those wonderfully deep eyes of his dance with an unspoken promise to come;

"Guren linna le hervess nín," Thranduil whispers with the slightest crack in his voice, as he drops my hand to run his fingers through my hair, drawing my mass of messy waves away from my face.

Softly he catches my face in both his hands, and I cannot help how my head lolls heavily into his touch. His voice is more mesmerising than my memory could ever recall, his touch so much more sensitive than any dream I could paint, and his spirit so much warmer and captivating now that distance does not separate us. In a moment his lips rest gently to my brow and completely I give into him. In a second all the pain subsides and my life's flame flares in unison with his...he is home.

All is well...All is well

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A/N: *drowns in a sea of feels* I know I write this stuff, but even I get emotional at this part XD ...I have a lot of feelings...

Media:
Karmina - All the King's Horses
*I think it's a good match of a song for both Clara and Thranduil, the lyrics are sublime*

*NOTE* I may put the rating of this story up, my reasoning is the reunion scenes are very heavy and the romantic element is crucial for the characters. I don't write smut (contrary to tired rumours of bored users). If you are expecting kinky stuff it ain't gonna happen. This is a married and bonded couple, harrowed and wounded by war, it's more a struggle for the two of them to find their way back to each other. I don't expect any overly-descriptive scenes, just a lot of heavy emotion and implication. So for that reason - to stay on the right side of Wattpad law - I'll up the rating. I hope I don't lose anyone, all I can do is assure that storyline is paramount and I don't compromise on that.

Anyhoo What do you think? Comment/vote/share
:)