Daylight rose over what had been a battlefield mere hours ago. The tattered banner of my kingdom flapped at an odd angle, like clothes hung out to dry, its torn edges knotting in the wind, the stains of blood and grime drying.
The body I sat next to mirrored the state of the banner, ironic since the body was that of the one who had created the banner. Oropher, king of Greenwood the Great lay dead, his body hewn almost on two, leaving myself, Thranduil as the new king.

I remember that morning as if it were yesterday, as clear and as fresh as though I were still there. The hurt of loss has lessened over time, but resentment, born of my father’s anger towards the leadership of the Noldor has grown.
Yet now, as years have passed, the reasoning for that resentment has become cloudy. Is it because of Gil-Galad’s refusal to listen to my father, which caused him to march on his own? Or is it because they gave up trying to reason with him, an action which could have prevented his ill-timed death.

“We ride in the morning under Greenwoods banner. The honour of our people will not be sullied by the cowardice of the Noldor.” My father was fuming, and though I knew he would hear no reason, I felt it my duty as his son to try and calm him into some.
“Surely the reasoning of Gil-Galad is at least sound in some ways? If we wait, more forces will have arrived and…” my sentence was cut off by a brisk gesture from my father, dismissing all I might have had to say.
“Do not dare to tell me that my own son has been deceived by the talk of more soldiers. The Peredhil always was too cunning with his words. Never forget, my son, that were it not for the Noldor, Morgoth would never have grown in strength, and thus, Sauron never would have taken his place when he fell, and our homes would be safer.” With that, he dismissed me. I knew better than to argue, and went to make sure that all the necessary preparations had been made.

I lost friends and cousins, people who I had know for centuries that day, those who I had grown up with and learnt the art of war with. For by that time the next day, our army had been reduced to a mere third of what it had been, and the day after that I led those sorry survivors back to safety, and then on to our home of Greenwood, all because of my fathers stubbornness.
I was crowned king scant weeks after our return, and from then on, I was pestered with the reminder that a king must produce heirs…

“My lord, she is but the perfect partner, attractive, young, and the daughter of one of the more trusted and influential advisers of your late father. It would be unwise to incur the wrath of such a man, should he decide that you are not as strong as your father.” Aniolad purred.
He had been pestering me to marry Balëavariel, and true, she was attractive, and her father was influential, but when I was with her, there was nothing, no spark, no attraction, just friendship at best.
“No. Aniolad, I will choose my wife when I find her. Not before.” And with that I left. I could hear him spluttering in the corridor, trying to make sense of what I had said, but the door to my chamber was thick, and once closed, that spluttering was gone.

Fifty years passed before I found the woman I wished to marry. In those five years I tried hard to keep the morale of my people strong, and though there were times of discontent, my reign settled into a stable one. It was during the Winter Solstice celebrations that I saw her. Her name was Lithraniel, and though we had known each other for years, it was only now, when my advisors had finally ceased pestering me, and love was the last thing on my mind did I notice her.
The years went past, and my rule grew stronger. Trade routes with the various other communities grew up, and Greenwood once more started to flourish. Our pride was still bruised from our defeat all those years before, and many of my people harboured grudges against the Noldor, and Men, because it was seen that they lost fewer of their kin. Even I in my grief could see that their losses were just as great, if not more so with the deaths of Gil-Galad and Elendil. Our ties with the Galadhrim, stayed open, though at times somewhat strained, and life went on as it always had.
The love between Lithraniel and myself grew, though no child was born of it. We began to despair, and once more my advisors began to harass me, telling me that if my current wife could bear me heir, then another must be found. At this my anger grew, and my poor wife became nervous that eventually I would heed their words.

“Aniolad, when will you understand that I have no desire to marry another, and even if I wished to there is no way to. Whether an heir is born or not is no concern to me, I love my wife and that is all that matters.” To say that I was fuming could possibly be an understatement. The preparations for the Spring festival were running late, and every Elf who could help should have been. My wife was in the kitchens, and I was trying to place banners up in the trees where the celebrations were to be held. Somehow Aniolad had managed to excuse himself from helping out, but I was getting close to ordering him to go and help bringing the benches out.
“But my Lord, what if something were to happen to you? We would be without a leader, and your work over the years has done amazing things to this kingdom.” In a way his tone was sincere, but long ago I had learned not to trust politicians who weren’t getting what they wanted.
“Are you suggesting that I am in some danger? Because if not, I suggest that you get yourself out of my sight for the rest of the day. I have work to do, and so do you I believe.” I gave him a harsh stare, and my tone of voice was not one that could be argued with. He scurried off, to pester someone else.

That night was possibly the best Spring Festival Greenwood had ever seen. Our harvests had been plentiful the last year, and so there were plenty of stores left, and the hunts in the past to week had been bountiful. The musicians played like they had never played before, and all there danced until the early hours of the morning. My wife and I were among the last to leave, and after a night of joyous celebrations, our lovemaking was sweet and tender.
Weeks later, we found to our joy that she was with child, and more celebrations were held. The next year was hard for Lithraniel, no more so than the birth. It exhausted her both physically and mentally, and though some of her strength returned, she was never what she had been, though my love for her never wavered. Our son, Legolas was as beautiful as babies ever are, and as quiet as a mouse. He grew up to be a strong and well mannered, if not occasionally headstrong child, who was well loved by all who knew him, especially Lithraniel and I, as we had excepted that we would never have more children.
I believe I should have seen the turn sooner, just after Legolas has reached his 24th year, Lithraniel, who had gone through years of depression intermixed with years of great joy decided that she no longer wished to dwell in Middle Earth, and followed the call of the sea that had haunted her for so long. It was hard for me to bear, but harder still for the two of us to explain to our child why his beloved mother was leaving. Eventually the time came when she would leave, and our family, along with a few others who had chosen to go with her made our way to the Havens to say our goodbyes.

“Naneth! I’m sorry! I’ll be good I promise. Don’t leave me and Ada! Please.” My son’s cries echoed across the harbour, his tears streaming down his face, as I’m sure they were down mine.
“Hush Legolas, you will see her again, and she has left because she loves you, never doubt that.” His eyes looked up to me, pleading, as if I could make her return. “Be strong my son.” I whispered, and then picked him up and carried him back to the rooms we were staying in.
We both cried ourselves to sleep that night. I am normally not one to show emotion, but she was the only woman I had ever truly loved, and from that night I knew I would never love another.

We returned the next day, and the next few years were hard on us. Commerce was good, and my kingdom was stable, but there was always something missing, and without Lithraniel to make sure that I did not over work myself, I would spend whole nights in my study dealing with trivial problems.
Legolas somehow flourished from the attention he received both from myself, for no matter how much work I convinced myself I had, I always made time for my beloved son, and he made great progress in any subject he turned his eye to.
The years went past quietly for the next few centuries, Legolas grew to adulthood, and took on responsibilities that befit a prince, yet never losing his enthusiasm for life or his hot temper that led to many disagreements between the two of us.
Then darkness started to grow. Areas of Greenwood because unreachable by our roads, the spiders, which had dwelt mainly in the south started to multiply and venture further northwards, and it was said that evil grew at Dol Guldur. In time people no longer referred to my realm as Greenwood the Great, but Mirkwood, and my people started to venture into the forests less.
Our troops were forced to patrol more, to defend us from spiders and other evils that lurked, and many were lost.

And so the world carried on, the Dwarves came and went, and the Ring was returned to the known world. Our lives went on for a while as they always had, until Gollum was sent to us, and then we were faced with yet more trials, and I sent Legolas to tell Elrond of his escape, and he was sent on this confounded quest.

“Lithraniel, I know you’re in the West, but I wish you were here. So many things have gone wrong, and so many things still could go wrong. Our son holds the fate of Middle Earth safe with his actions, and in a way ‘tis my fault.” I wiped a tear from my eye, “In other ways I am glad you are not here to see the darkness that invades our realm. I will be with you soon I hope.” And with that, I readied my bow, and led my hunting party towards the group of spiders that had been attacking an outpost.