Elrond closed the door quietly behind them and crossed the room to pour two glasses of wine. Thranduil stood before the hearth staring blankly into the flames, his face a stony mask. Elrond closed his eyes briefly, praying for the strength to help his friend through the trials he must endure over the coming days. He moved silently to Thranduil’s side, pressing the wine goblet into the Elvenking’s hand and guiding him to his chair.

“I am sorry to depth of my soul for what has happened. I know that words are of little comfort, mellon-nin. Whatever you need of me you shall have, you know that.” Elrond took the chair opposite Thranduil’s, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, the better to see his companion’s face. Thranduil nodded absently, chewing his lower lip as he had as an elfling when he was distressed. Elrond was mildly shocked to see a reappearance of the habit he had thought gone with the other’s majority. He was about to speak again when Thranduil’s eyes suddenly fixed on him.

“I will not fade, Elrond. You need not worry on that score, at least.” Thranduil fell silent again, staring once more into the flames and chewing his lip.

“I have other worries than that where you are concerned, one of which is when you last ate or slept,” Elrond replied softly.

“This morning and last night. Luinloth hovers over me enough for ten elves and he drugs my wine when he thinks I am not looking,” Thranduil returned with a shade of his usual tartness. “Elrond, I am not an idiot. I know that I must eat and sleep. The world does not stop simply because the light has gone out of it.” His voice cracked on the last, but just as Elrond thought he was going to break, Thranduil exerted his formidable will and reigned in his emotions. His storm-dark eyes bored into the Lord of Imladris for several moments before returning to the flames.

Elrond sat back into his chair, forcibly restraining himself from slumping. Meeting Thranduil’s gaze was not an easy thing, even for the bearer of a ring of power and even when the king of Mirkwood was in the best of moods. Now, with the force of his grief behind it, his will was a palpable thing. Lesser beings would run screaming from that gaze in the future, Elrond was certain.

He shuddered at what little Thranduil had allowed him to see. Grief he knew well, it was a constant companion to him since Celebrian’s departure. Anger at the ones responsible he knew as well, both his own and that of his sons. Guilt, too, was familiar for he still blamed himself for not being able to heal what had been done, as Thranduil felt guilt for not preventing Valilis’ death, no matter that he could not have. The emptiness and despair were what was unfamiliar to him, for even though Celebrian was not by his side, he knew that she awaited him in Valinor once his tasks in Arda were complete.

Thranduil was not so fortunate. He was bereft of Valilis for eternity, unless she should be reborn by the will of Iluvatar. Regardless of anything else, he was now alone with a small son to raise and a kingdom that was being threatened by Shadow to rule. There were no words Elrond could offer in the face of that, and so he merely reached across the distance between himself and Thranduil to grip the other’s arm in silent support. Thranduil looked up, startled, and then laid his hand over Elrond’s, acknowledging the unspoken affirmation of friendship and aid. They both sank back into their chairs and contemplated the fire in silence. It was to this scene that Mithrandir entered sometime later. He said nothing, just laid his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. Thranduil nodded to him, but made no effort to speak.

The door to the bed chamber opened and Legolas toddled into the room, one hand holding firmly to Arwen’s. She smiled sweetly at her father and his companions.

“Someone wanted his Ada,” she explained as the elfling pulled her impatiently along. Although he had not long been walking, Legolas was surprisingly strong and steady on his feet. He spotted his father seated by the hearth and his face lit up with the brightest of smiles.

“Da! Da, Da, Da!” The elfling fairly bounced to his Adar’s side. Thranduil’s expression softened as he reached down to lift the toddler into his lap.

“Did you miss Ada, little squirrel?” He smiled down into the elfling’s face, only a hint of his sorrow still evident. Legolas grinned, wrinkling his nose and grabbing two handfuls of Thranduil’s hair. He dragged his father’s face down enough to bless him with a sloppy, but sweet kiss. He raised a small hand to rub away the dampness left by the kiss and Thranduil actually chuckled a little. “Yes, that was such a good kiss that it must be rubbed in. Did you have a good nap, ion-nin?”

“Da,” the elfling replied, laying his head on Thranduil’s shoulder and playing with the end of one of his braids. He peeked up through his wispy blond locks at Arwen and grinned at her before grabbing a fistful of his father’s robe and sticking it into his mouth. Thranduil patiently removed his robes from his son’s mouth.

“No biting,” he said firmly, turning Legolas to sit facing away from him in his lap. The elfling protested, until he caught sight of Mithrandir. His eyes widened as he took in the Istari’s appearance. The wizard gave the little one a gentle smile.

“Well, hello there, little prince,” Mithrandir rumbled softly to the elfling. Legolas studied him with wide eyes for a minute before grinning and holding out his arms to be picked up. Thranduil’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.

“Consider that a compliment, Mithrandir. He never takes to strangers this quickly.” He almost smiled. “Be warned, if you do decide to pick him up, that everything ends up in his mouth and he does pull hair.”

“Oh, what is a bit of pulled hair between friends, hmmm, Legolas?” The Istari lifted the elfling into his embrace. Legolas studied him closely, his small hands patting the wizard’s face and beard. A grin like the sun breaking through clouds crossed the little elf’s face and he buried his face in the wizard’s beard, nuzzling into it and giggling when it tickled him. Mithrandir laughed and tickled small ribs deftly. Legolas chortled and grabbed the wizard’s nose, prompting said wizard to make an odd noise and sending the elfling into harder giggles.

“Funny!” Legolas declared, grabbing a fistful of Mithrandir’s hair. He looked down at Thranduil. “Mine,” he stated decisively. Elrond’s mouth twitched suspiciously. Leave it to an elfling to be a light in the darkest of times.

“I think you have joined the auspicious company of Arwen and the twins as one of

Legolas’ preferred playthings,” Elrond commented dryly. “As I recall, he had the same reaction to them.”

“He did,” Thranduil stated softly, “and Valilis teased them unmercifully about it.” He stared at his hands clenched tightly in his lap. Elrond stood quickly, motioning Mithrandir and Arwen out of the room. The wizard nodded, laying a comforting hand on the elleth’s shoulder and guiding her to the door.

“Come, Arwen, let us find this little one something to eat.” He looked down at the elfling, who had picked up on his father’s distress and had begun to whimper and patted his back comfortingly. “There now, little prince, there now. Your Ada is in good hands. Let us find something to fill our bellies, shall we? I would be willing to wager that you like berry pies. Shall we see if the cooks have any?”

Elrond made no move until the door had closed behind his daughter and the Istari. Thranduil likewise remained as a statue until the door had closed, and then was out of his chair like an arrow and pacing the room like a caged animal.

“I do not understand, Peredhel. Why? Why Valilis and why in this way? She never did anything to deserve death, especially such a death as this. I do not understand why!” Thranduil roared the last and threw the chair he had been sitting in across the room into the wall, reducing it to kindling. “Why her? Why now, when she has a child that needs her.” The other chair hit the wall and splintered. He swept the goblets and wine decanter on the table to the floor in a vicious motion, shattering them, and threw the table after the chairs, shattering it as well. Elrond held his ground and his silence through the outburst. As suddenly as it had begun, the storm passed and Thranduil turned haunted eyes to his long time friend. “Eru, Elrond, how can I endure this?” He fell to his knees on the debris covered rug. “How can I do this without her?” Elrond knelt in front of him, his hands gripping Thranduil’s shoulders.

“By taking things one day at a time and not allowing your pride to keep you from asking for help from those who care for you,” he pulled the shaking elf into a brother’s embrace. “Now, you must allow yourself to complete the cycle of grieving. Let it out, mellon-nin. Allow me to lend you strength as you did for me when Celebrian sailed. I know it is not the same, but please let me do this for you.” He flet Thranduil slump against him, hands gripping the front of Elrond’s robes, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He rocked the grieving king like a child, his own tears flowing freely for the loss of one of the brightest spirits he had ever known.

It seemed like hours later that Thranduil’s sobs died away and he lay limply in Elrond’s embrace. The lord of Imladris gently lifted the slumbering king and carried him into his bed chamber, placing him in his bed, removing his boots, and tucking the covers around him like he would one of his children. Elrond looked down at his friend and sighed. Thranduil had seen so much sorrow in his life, only to have more heaped upon him. He did not pretend to understand the reasons Iluvatar might have for allowing such things to occur. Closing the door quietly on the sleeping king’s room, he sent a silent prayer for strength for all of them in the days to come.

The outer door opened slowly, the king’s assistant Luinloth peering cautiously around the edge of it; his eyes wide in disbelief as he surveyed the damage Thranduil’s grief had wrought. He stepped into the room, the dismayed expression on his angular face deepening as he took in each item that had been destroyed. His eyes met Elrond’s.

“My Lord did this?” Elrond nodded wearily.

“I am afraid so, Luinloth. Peace, he is safe enough for now. He has exhausted himself and will sleep for several hours at least, I think. It should be safe enough to clear this mess away and replace the damaged items.” Elrond gave the shaken elf a reassuring smile. Luinloth gave the lord of Imladris a searching look and nodded.

“I will see to it, Lord Elrond. If I may be so bold, you should rest as well. My Lord will have need of you when he wakes.” Thranduil’s assistant turned and began to gather the shards of the goblets and decanter from the floor. Suddenly he looked up at Elrond again. “Lord Elrond? I thank you for coming here. Your skills are needed far more than you know, and far more than My Lord will likely admit.” Elrond’s mouth quirked slightly.

“Thank you, Luinloth. Send for me immediately if I can be of further assistance, to you or to Thranduil.”

“I will, my lord.” Luinloth turned back to his task as Elrond exited the room.

Elrond walked wearily towards the throne room. He wished to speak with Celeborn briefly and then check on Legolas before he sought rest. Celeborn was the only one keeping vigil when he reached the throne room. He paused a moment by the bier, staring down at the still body of the queen. Ai, Valilis, you have left such an emptiness behind, he thought despondently. Celeborn moved to his side and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“How is Thranduil faring?” Celeborn had a calm strength about him that he somehow managed to extend to anyone in his presence and Elrond was more grateful than usual for that rare trait. He sighed yet again as he answered Celebrian’s father.

“Devastated, as one might expect. He dismantled his sitting room a little while ago, but is sleeping now.” He turned to meet Celeborn’s eyes. “He has the strength in him to survive this, if he wills it. Legolas will anchor him here. I do not believe that he will fade, at least not while the child needs him.”

“He will not. I know my cousin, and he is far too obstinate to give up. He does not feel it now, but he will soon realize that he still has tasks to accomplish here. He will stay. Belegdur and Teluial are another matter. Their grief is too strong to allow them to remain on these shores. They will sail for Valinor soon, I believe.” He regarded Valilis’ body sorrowfully. “You are much grieved over, little one. Your passing has left such emptiness in its wake.” He sighed and ran a hand through his silver locks. “What of the child?”

“Mithrandir and Arwen took him to the kitchens in search of berry pies, I believe. He seemed to take to Mithrandir.” Elrond smiled faintly at the memory of the little prince’s reaction to the Istari.

“Good. I will seek them there. You, Elrond, will seek you bed. I know full well that you are on the last of your strength. Go, I will see to anything that needs doing. Go to your rest, ion.” Celeborn guided him toward the door. Elrond, knowing better than to argue, acquiesced without comment. Celeborn sighed heavily and started off in the direction of the kitchens.