What Do You Know Of Love? (Part 1)
Warnings: grief, mention of heavy drinking
A/N: I’ve always been super curious as to what would happen had Thranduil gotten back the gems he had fashioned for his wife at the end of the movie. Here is my take on what might have occurred.
See parts 2 and 3
The morning sunlight came through the open drapes and flooded the dark corners of the large bed chamber in its warm embrace. He hated the way it mocked him. Every day, for thousands of years, the sun rose with the dawn and forced him to go on. Forced him to drag himself out of bed and hope that his many layers of fine robes and glamor would be enough to cover the ever present smoldering pain of the burn scars cascading down the left side of his body. But he’d have gladly traded having to live with his whole body being burned that day, for the physical pain of that would be a mere inconvenience compared to the utter devastation he faces in his soul now.
Every morning, that damn sun rises and forces him to adorn his crown, the very crown she had crafted for him. The legendary crown of the Elvenking, forged from the living trees of his once green forest. Said to bloom and change along with the seasons during the years of his rule. Even though darkness had twisted the trees into gnarled versions of their former selves without her magic present to protect them, his crown had somehow remained unmarred.
He was no king without his queen, so why would it keep on living? As far as he was concerned, his reign had ended the day he carried her lifeless body off that battlefield. But of course, every morning he would wake up, if he’d even managed to fall asleep in the first place, and put that arrogant, self-assured mask on his face as he takes the throne.
They think he can’t hear them. The whispers among guards and maids about his cowardice and callous outlook on the affairs outside his borders. When did they forget that he had been fighting battles longer than they had been alive? If he had truly not cared for his people, he would not put himself through this hell every single morning.
And then his son…
Thranduil groaned. From the outside looking in, the elvenking cut a sorry sight. Sprawled out on the cold floor of his room, surrounded by empty wine bottles. He had not bothered to use a glass. His gray robe was wrinkled, and his silver-blond hair was unkempt. Sitting up slowly, he rubbed the back of his hand across his bloodshot eyes. Using the edge of his desk to pull himself to his feet, Thranduil assessed his surroundings. He was relieved to find out that, even in last night’s drunken stupor, he had remembered to close her old sketchbook and neatly return it to its place on the shelf by the bed after flipping through it as was his ritual every evening. However, his stomach sank as his icy blue eyes landed on the intricate wooden box on the vanity.
Mithrandir’s halfling thief retrieved it while sifting through the rubble of Erebor after The Battle of the Five armies, and had it returned to him. At first, Thranduil was in disbelief that he finally, after decades of searching, held the gems in his hands. Finding those jewels, the last remaining glimpse of his starlight, was one of the only reasons he had to continue on after her tragic loss.
And now that they were here… his soul yearned for her all the more. For the first time in centuries, Thranduil felt a spark of love crackle across his long short circuited fae. Seeing the precious diamonds for the first time since attempting to purchase them from Thror had been too much for Thranduil. He was instantly flooded with sweet memories of his soulmate, the one whom the gems were fashioned for, and was startled by the explosion of uncontrollable emotion radiating from a place deep within his being where he thought void of all feeling.
Now, as he ran his fingertips over the smoothe, cool to the touch jewels, he finally found appreciation for the sun as he watched it glisten off the white gems. Their glow reminded him of her bright eyes every time she looked at him. He knew what he must do.
