The King and the Forest
The morning light timidly pierced through the dense branches of the Forest of Shadows. Thranduil walked among its trees, attentive to every detail, every whisper of the wind, and every distant sound that might signal danger. Youth still lingered in his features, but in his eyes was the determination of a king who knew that his people depended on him.
Melian followed him discreetly, keeping her distance, yet always close enough to sense the faintest trace of his scent and energy. She had not yet revealed her true identity, but her presence already stirred a subtle unease in the young king.
"The orcs have grown bolder of late," Thranduil said, speaking more to himself than to anyone else. "If we do not increase our patrols, they will test the forest sooner or later."
Melian approached just enough to murmur, her voice betraying none of her power:
"You perceive more than you imagine, young king. But beware… not all dangers come from without."
Thranduil halted abruptly, turning toward the voice.
"Who spoke?" He furrowed his brow, his eyes scanning the thick trunks.
Melian smiled faintly, remaining in the shadows. "Only someone who observes. Someone who understands the forest almost as well as you do."
The king arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "Interesting… and why not reveal yourself? Fear, shyness, or is there another reason?"
"Reasons you will discover in time," Melian replied, letting the question hang in the air. She remained silent, yet her gaze remained steady, evaluating every gesture he made.
Thranduil chuckled softly, a rare sound in the silent forest. "Then it shall be a mystery to me. Very well. But know this: the throne tolerates no eternal secrets, even from those who walk beside their king."
Melian tilted her head slightly, as if acknowledging him, yet her eyes shone with a knowledge the king could not comprehend. "And I do not expect to be understood, only observed."
As they walked, Thranduil began to speak of his plans for the realm.
"This forest will be more than a refuge. It will be a place where my people feel safe, but also inspired. Where beauty and vigilance walk together. I need every tree, every path, to reflect the strength and wisdom of our people."
Melian remained silent, but her mind analyzed every word. There was something in the way he spoke—a mixture of pride and hope—that made her smile inwardly. The spark of interest, slow and silent, began to ignite.
"And the other elves, your people?" she finally asked, breaking the silence. "Will they accept such radical changes?"
Thranduil averted his gaze, thoughtful. "Not all… but those who see the forest as I do will understand. The others… will learn, or fade away." He spoke the last phrase with a hint of grim humor, yet Melian perceived the underlying seriousness.
"You will be a great king," she said, finally drawing close enough for her voice to be a whisper meant only for him. "But beware that your pride does not become your own trap."
The king looked at her with curiosity, sensing a strange familiarity and understanding in those words. "And you, then, who are you? A shadow of the forest, or something more?"
Melian did not answer. She merely continued walking, side by side, letting the mystery linger between them, not yet revealing the depth of her essence.
For hours, they walked thus, among ancient trees and silent streams, speaking little, but exchanging subtle understandings that only two beings of such distant ages could perceive. Thranduil spoke of strategies, Melian responded with veiled warnings and counsel that only someone with millennia of experience could offer.
When the sun began to set, illuminating the branches with shades of gold and copper, Thranduil finally stopped. "One day, this forest will be so beautiful that even Men and Dwarves will feel reverence for its grandeur," he said, as if prophesying.
Melian looked at him, now closer, and smiled faintly. "And perhaps, who knows, something to rival Valinor."
The king arched an eyebrow, surprised. "Valinor? Few dare speak of such things without a tremor of reverence."
She tilted her head. "Those who truly know it do not tremble, but they understand. And you… you have the potential to comprehend and create something equal or even greater here."
Thranduil fell silent, contemplating the surrounding trees. And in that moment, both knew—though still separated by secrecy and time—that their destinies were intertwining in a slow, subtle, and inevitable way.
Melian remained there, side by side with the young king, guarding her secret, observing every gesture, every breath, and feeling something she had not felt in a long time: a deep and silent interest, one that would patiently grow, in time becoming greater than any magic or realm ever seen in Middle-earth.