Disclaimer: Don’t own any of it, not making any profit from it.

A/N: This story is a bit of a departure from my usual stuff. It will carry a higher rating due to the fact that it will contain sexual activity in later chapters. It is NOT a romance, however, as will be made plain fairly early in the story. It is rather dark in theme, so bear that in mind.

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                                               They were nearing the end of their journey. The group of elves had crossed into Greenwood and was traveling home to the palace after a visit to Imladris. King Thranduil found his gaze returning once again to his Queen as she rode next to him. Queen Valilis was beautiful even for an elf, especially to her husband’s eyes. She was fair, with deep blue eyes and hair like spun gold. Quick to smile, but reserved among those she did not know, Valilis had found the position she occupied upon her marriage to Thranduil to be a difficult adjustment. That she was well-loved by the Silvan elves that her Sindar husband ruled made the transition a bit easier. That she was Silvan herself played a small part in that, but it was the character of the lady herself that endeared her to those she encountered. The birth of their son had further cemented the bonds between Queen and subjects.

                                                As always, Thranduil noted Valilis looking about her warily. She had never fully become settled in Greenwood and the advancing Shadow unsettled her further. She had been born in Lorien, and still had cousins there that she visited frequently. Still, she felt that her place was by her husband’s side more so now since Legolas’ birth. Thranduil smiled as he watched her check the elfling she held on the horse before her, making certain the sleeping infant was warm and dry.

                                                 He chuckled a bit, remembering the last few weeks. This had been Legolas’ first visit to Imladris and he had been much doted upon. Elrond was very fond of children and welcomed the presence of one so young. His own three were well beyond childhood, his youngest being only a decade away from her majority, and the lord of Imladris claimed that until he was graced with grandchildren he must dote on any child available to keep his skills intact. He had had to compete with his daughter on that score. Legolas had Arwen firmly twined around his little finger at first glance and she had proved to be a natural at childcare. She was seldom far from the elfling during the whole of the visit and once Valilis had assured herself that Arwen was a trusty child tender, this had provided the king and queen of Greenwood much needed opportunity to explore the more secluded areas of Imladris. Even Elrond’s twin sons had been captivated by the baby elf. Thranduil sensed gratitude from Elrond on that score, as his sons had become relentless orc hunters in the two decades since their mother had sailed for Valinor, unable to cope with the aftermath of her ordeal at the hands of a group of the foul creatures. Anything, however brief, that distracted Elladan and Elrohir was a welcome phenomenon to Elrond.

                                                 A vague sense of unease brought Thranduil out of his musings. He scanned the foliage surrounding the group, his nervousness growing with each passing second. He turned to his guard captain, issuing orders for all to be at their most alert. The sound of an arrow ripping through the air reached his ears as did the sound of it striking flesh a fraction of a second later. Thranduil whipped around, his heart in his throat. Valilis’ eyes met his for a moment before the light in them faded, quenched forever by the arrow in her throat. A hoarse cry issued from her husband as the bond between them was severed by her death. Thranduil barely retained the presence of mind to snatch the baby from his wife’s lifeless arms as she toppled from her horse. He reeled for a moment, bereft, before focusing all his will on preserving the sole family member left to him. He could grieve later; right now he needed to make certain that his son would survive the night. Calling to his guards to cover their flight, the company surged toward the safety of the distant caverns that held Thranduil’s palace. One of the guards caught up the fallen queen, the others fired arrows at the orcs who were now flooding onto the path, downing the vile beasts before they could reach the king’s horse as it passed them.

                                               Miraculously, the queen was the only casualty and they rode hard through the remainder of the night, reaching the palace shortly after midday. A hush feel over the crowd that had gathered to welcome them home as the guard carrying the body of their queen shrouded in a cloak passed. In his wake, a keening lament rose. Thranduil tightened his jaw, his face impassive. The only sign of his grief were the tears that coursed freely down his face. He was controlling his reactions as best he could as it was the only thing that kept him in the saddle and coherent, but he could not control his tears. He needed to remain strong long enough to get inside his palace. Only then would he allow himself to succumb to the crushing anguish that was trying to consume his soul. He knew he had to release his grief; he could not fade and join his beloved Valilis not while his son needed him.