The Gift

Summary: None given.

“So be it then! We will rise or will fall and all will be gone. Hereby, I close not this last council. Friends let us feast now for a last time – even it is on the eve of battle,” Gil Galad pushed his chair back and rose from the seat. His mighty appearance towered in the tent over all the elves that still were seated.

One of his hand servants flung a blue cloak over his shoulders and the king of the Noldor nodded at the other members of the war council. At dawn, the elves would join forces with the men and then would start the siege of Mordor. Hopefully, Sauron would quickly release his slaves, out of their camps, so the battle could begin and a new chapter of the history of Middle Earth would begin.

The elves had built their giant camp only a few leagues away from the enemy’s line. The banners of their different tribes, of the realms and of the kingdoms were flying high in the hot and dry wind that came from Mordor.

That afternoon the elven leaders from all remaining realms had been called to a last war council with Gil Galad. Years of preparation to go to war would now come to an end in this last battle, and its end would show the destiny for all peoples of Middle Earth.

Gil Galad strode to the exit of the tent and inhaled the fresh air. He would lead his guests and followers to another, much larger tent, in which he had ordered a last feast to be prepare. Carefully, his dark boots stepped over the disturbed grass and soil.

Different to King Oropher, Gil Galad had traveled with his whole household. It seemed to the other leaders as if he was expecting not to return home. So, his own people already had hundreds of tents put up, but when Oropher joined with his army, a giant city of tents grew on the plain meadows.

But in their center, a large festive tent made from leather had been raised. This was the place where Gil Galad now led them.

Oropher had ordered his soldiers to eat and drink, to sing and dance that night, so they would feel happier going into battle the next morning. Camp followers of all kinds tended to the warriors and were supposed to help them forget their worries. Oropher himself and of course his son had followed the call of the Noldor and had attended the war council.

Thranduil, though, was now impatiently scooting forth and back on his chair, waiting for his turn in line to stand up as well. Then some elf lords stood and Thranduil could push his chair back. Swiftly walking, he left the tent. He felt his tummy grumble and when he strode away from the council tent, the scent of the different meats that were roasted over the open fires did not help him to overpower his own hunger.

Stunned, the elf gazed over the clouds high above him. The skies turned red, as if someone had taken a giant paintbrush and had dipped it into an even larger bucket with crimson paint just to coat then the clouds and the skies. The council obviously had lasted longer than he had expected.

In front of him, he could see his sire and Gil Galad still deep in a discussion, as if the last hours that they had spent, repeatedly going over strategies had not been enough. They arrived at the festive tent. It took four strong elven men to pull the flaps open to let the guests enter.

Thranduil was about to step in as well, when he caught a movement in the corner of his eye There had been one more tent put up between the festive one and Gil Galad’s private one. There right at the entrance an ellon sat on a short stool. His face was of extraordinary beauty. Obviously spooked by the arrivals, the ellon looked down to the ground, making the servant behind him that was combing his hair, rather upset.

This blink of a moment though was enough to wake Thranduil’s interest. He had enjoyed so many pretty young elves in his life, but this one seemed to be so different to all that he had seen before. He stopped all of his movements and gazed openly over the ellon.

The garment that the elf wore made the princeling even more curious. He wore a long, white nearly transparent tunic, which reached almost to his knees and covered his long slender legs. The seams and the butterfly sleeves of the garment had hundreds of tiny bells sewn to it. Thranduil smiled when the elf seemed to shift a little uncomfortable under his probing look and his tunic slipped up. Blushing into a crimson shade, the ellon tried to cover the tiny white loincloth his was wearing under his dancing garments.

The prince thought that this piece of clothing was so tiny, that it could only be considered a teaser for any interested male elf. He tilted his head in interest, when the servant took a piece of coal and began to line the pretty ellon’s eyes. He then took a jar out of a pouch that he was holding between his knees. With a brush that he dipped into the container, he began gently and very carefully to paint his lips.

“Thranduil! It is impolite to let our host wait! Get inside and feast with us!” Oropher hollered from the entry. Nodding, Thranduil hurried and followed his sire into the festive tent. Tables had been put up in a circle and nice cozy pillow covered benches were behind them, inviting the elves to sit or lay down while they feasted.

Oropher laughed over the jokes some other elves, that were resting next to him and his son, told him. While the elves still ate and talked, they missed how the tables were removed and instead round lights filled with scented burning oils were put on the ground. In the center of the festive tent there had been a fire burning the whole time. Now it was fed again and burned high, filling the room with warmth. Dancers suddenly swarmed the place and the elves were stunned by their performances. Gil Galad clapped his hands happily when the dancers moved gracefully between the guests. As swift they had come and had made many heads turn longingly, that fast they disappeared again.

Different musicians had taken place in the back of the tent. Someone threw metal flakes into the large fire and it flashed hot and red. Thranduil sat up on his bench, curious as to what surprise the Noldor king had now for them. The music changed from sweet and flowing to dramatically and now Thranduil was completely alert. Spooked for a moment, he scooted back on his bench when out of nowhere the ellon in his transparent garment jumped into the center of the festive tent.

Moving his body to the music with grace but also with power, he hypnotized the princeling. The ellon seemed to have the most elastic body Thranduil had ever seen and his dancing changed as fast as the music did, making every guest gasp. The dancer did not even seem to realize that there was an audience for him. He seemed to be lost in trance.

“This is my special treat for this evening,” Gil Galad bent his head down to Thranduil, whose eyes seemed to have become blurry while watching. The dancer threw himself on the ground just to jump into the air again. Thranduil felt to become dizzy watching this ellon with his slender limps, his glacier water green eyes, his slightly turned up nose and his shoulder long chestnut brown hair. The dancer seemed to come out of his trance and cast meaningful glances at the audience and flashed a smile to one or the other elf.

A moan was heard when he tore his tunic off and arched backwards, building a bridge with his body.

Oropher leaned between his son and Gil Galad and whispered, “Don’t tell me, you are sending him into battle tomorrow too!”

Laughing the other king answered, “He wields a sword just as well as he dances, but I am not beaten with madness. Whom shall I celebrate our victory with if he falls?” Gil Galad was winking meaningful and Oropher and Thranduil nodded knowingly, took their goblets of wine and sipped.

The dancer swirled and moved faster with the music.

Gil Galad again addressed Thranduil “I got him after the reshaping of the world. He is somewhere from the north,” then he suddenly winked again and added smiling “He is gifted, in all ways.”

Thranduil grinned but swallowed hard. The movements of the dancer, his refined body, his long legs, those narrow hips and especially that tiny behind, made him worry that he would start to drool. “I can see that my Lord. So you took him as your lover then?”

“I take only my pleasures with him whenever I long for him. I let him perform privately in my chambers then,” a smirk played around Gil Galad’s lips and he licked them.

Thranduil felt a tingling sensation traveling down to his groin. Each time the dancer turned or seemed to look into his direction the prince felt his desire grow and by then he was rock hard and wished he could have the dancer for himself.

Finally, the dancer cast himself down on the ground, right in front of the Noldor king’s feet. He kept his eyes politely downcast. Thranduil was amazed again. Now the dancer who had seemed to have given his best did not even breathe a hint faster.

The elves began to cheer to applaud and Gil Galad stood up from his bench. He took a white cloak, which someone had put right next to him. It matched the garment the dancer had worn. He threw it around the ellon’s shoulders and kissed him openly on the mouth. This was a sign of gratefulness for his performance. He took the ellon on the upper arm and pulled him a long to his bench. Without saying a word, the dancer sat down on the ground, next to the feet of the king.

Thranduil did not see the young elves that had entertained them earlier. While most of the other leaders and their followers and heralds were quickly distracted and entertained again, he had only eyes for the dancer.

“You do like my dancer, Thranduil?”

The prince nodded and shifted on his bench to hide the growing bulge.

“Well, Lithônion isn’t that nice of the prince?” Gil Galad asked the dancer who shyly looked to the ground, “Just look at the golden hair he has…and those strong muscles and the spark in his eyes…he is lovely Lithônion?” The dancer still looked to the ground and did not dare to lift his eyes.

Wiggling his eyebrows, Oropher pulled Gil Galad on his sleeve. “Is he mute or is he your thrall?”

Laughing the Noldor answered, “Oh, no he is not mute. I would not say he is enthralled, but I would have to be killed to let him go.” Suddenly he grabbed Lithônion’s jaws and pushed his head up so he had to face Thranduil and hissed. “I told you to look at him. There we go! See that spark in his eyes? He is going to be your master tonight,” and turning to Thranduil he said with his alcohol-loaded voice, “He is my gift to you for this night.”

Thranduil worried his heart would stop beating when he realized what Gil Galad just had offered him. He wondered if he was to stay cool and collected or if the king awaited him to thank him on his knees. Thranduil decided to nod and say some grateful words. He showered the Noldor with beautiful words and when he saw that the king was already drunk, he soaked him in compliments.

But deep inside of his head, his mind was racing. In thousands of colors, he had already painted the picture of the night to come. He wanted to feel the dancer squirm under his body. He wanted to have him right there, tearing that loincloth off and to take him from behind, right next to all the other people. But this was something one would do after a won battle and not before. He sighed at the thought, that when the combat was over this ellon might be given from elf to elf at the victory feast. Then he might be totally spoiled.

Gil Galad burped discreetly into his hand and then addressed Thranduil. “I will send him to your tent right after he has prepared himself.” He grinned the way drunks do, “See him as my gift for you tonight, young prince. Before dawn he is to be sent back.” He suddenly yanked Thranduil on the collar of his jerkins and pulled him close. The prince could feel his liquid breath on his pointy ear and smelled the wine on his breath. “You can do what you want with him. But don’t leave a scar on him.”

Thranduil nodded and bowing to the elves around him and to his sire and saying good night to the Noldor king, he excused himself so he could leave for his tent. He wanted that dancer. He would have him for a whole night. Snickering, he hasted over to his tent when he imagined how relaxed he would ride into battle the next day.

2.

Lithônion as well snuck out of the tent. He was going to sponge himself down and dress himself new. When he entered his tent, his hand servant quickly jumped to his feet and helped the dancer to undress. Nude, the ellon stepped into an enamel bowl and spread his arms and legs so his servant could wash him properly.

He preferred to bathe in the ponds or dive into an icy cold river, but Gil Galad would not allow that. Lithônion knew the orders of his king well and he followed them. He had dared to bathe once the way he had loved to and the king was very upset. His cheeks still burned under the memory of the slaps to his face that he had received.

The servant wrapped a large towel around him and softly dried the dancer’s limbs.

“Are you going to see the king later?”

“No, he has given me out again.”

“Oh. I am sorry,” the servant answered and reached for a jar with fragranced oils. Carefully, he stroke over Lithônion’s shoulders, his back and thighs. He softly massaged his muscles that were still hard from the dancing.

He then handed him a small vial and sighed. Lithônion nodded and put it into his sash. It was a combination of oils that he used to lubricate himself so the penetration would not be as painful. In Gil Galad’s bedchamber, there was always a small jar with different salves and greases that the king preferred for Lithônion to use before he mounted him.

Discreetly the servant left the tent for some moments so Lithônion could prepare himself, to be totally clean for the prince as well and to stretch himself some as well to get with Thranduil over quickly. He then wound a new loincloth around his narrow hips. On his bedclothes had been laid out. He gazed over them satisfied. A velvet robe, a long soft tunic and matching slippers those were all in maroon, like the last wine of the year. The seams were embroidered with Gil Galad’s emblem. The coat of arms of the last King of Noldor decorated the back of the robe. Lithônion sighed.

“Anyone who sees me wearing this knows I am property of the king. Like his horses, he had gotten me branded without scars to see though,” Lithônion mumbled while he held his face straight to have his eyes done again and his lips to be painted when the servant had returned.

“You are more beautiful than ever master.”

The dancer lifted the flap of the tent and stepped into the darkness of the night.

Thranduil had undressed himself. Quickly he had washed his hands and face. He even dipped his member into the cold water to get him to relax a little. But it had not helped. He had been sitting down on his day bed and had rubbed himself until he came panting hard. He always had the image of the dancer in his inner eye. He had worried that if he would not tend to himself, he would not be able to enjoy him fully. He would spend himself to fast and then the dancer would leave again. He needed wash the sticky mess from his hands and then threw a simple evening robe over his nude body.

But just thinking about the slender hips, long legs and that perfect shaped back made him grow hard again quickly. He called for one of his squires and ordered him to get him sweets. Some small cubes or balls made with cinnamon and cloves or honey soaked nuts. If the dancer would please him well, maybe he would give him some treats. He ordered wine to be brought as well.

Then he sat down on a chair, waiting. He got up again and walked to his bed to lie down, but he could not rest. He was simply over excited. So he paced up and down in his tent, constantly mumbling spells to calm his rock hard cock, to calm him down.

“My Lord, your guest has arrived,” Galion, his manservant, announced through the entrance.

A flash shot straight into Thranduil’s loins and his heart began to beat harder.

The flaps were pulled back and Lithônion had to bend down to enter. After having walked through the dark camp, he needed a moment to adjust his eyes to the light inside. Instantly, he saw that Thranduil had ordered to have this place quickly decorated to form an illusion. Glass balls filled with burning oils lit the room inside. The ground was covered with large leather blankets and pillows where thrown about.

The ellon could not deny the fact that Thranduil was handsome and had interesting features. Still he did not want to look at him to closely because this would mean to him to waste emotions on a guest that he had to tend too.

Thranduil motioned him to come closer. Standing in front of him, he reached out to touch his cheek. He wanted to feel the soft skin of the dancer’s face. Delighted over the sensation under his fingertips, for he had not experienced such tender skin in many years, he began to trace Lithônion’s cheek line. Softly he stroke with his thumb over the lips. For his eyes, they looked most deliciously painted in such a soft color.

He took one of the wine goblets and sipped from it, never letting his eyes travel away from the dancer’s beautiful face. He pulled the elf closer, holding him on his neck and made him drink from the same goblet. But he held it to high and spilled a bit. A drop of wine traveled down the dancer’s chin. Instantly, Thranduil put the goblet down and caught the drop with his finger, then licked it off.

A longing came over the prince and he cupped Lithônion's face with both hands and pulled him closer to kiss him hungrily. Thranduil closed his eyes in passion. That is why he missed that Lithônion kept his open, stared somewhere into the space and let the other elf kiss him. When he felt the tongue on his mouth, he pressed his lips shut. Thranduil let the stiff elf go.

“So, you do not kiss!” He exclaimed, “Then dance for me!”

The elven prince retreated disappointed to his divan. He sat down, pulled his long legs up and crossed them over. Lithônion did as he was told. Slowly he began to move his hips. Thranduil gasped as the dancer flashed him a smile that was enchanting and began seductively to peel himself out of slippers and robe.

He stroked his own body, licked his lips and fingers, and twisted his own nipples as he moved closer to Thranduil, who was desperately working to untie his robe and regretted having put a loincloth on. With every twist of his body, Lithônion purposely aroused the other elf. Obviously, he knew his employment well.

Thranduil’s breath became faster and he thought he would loose his mind, when the ellon kneeled down on the ground in front of him. He locked his eyes with the prince. Smiling and nearly hypnotizing the other elf, Lithônion’s hands traveled over Thranduil’s thighs. He most gently stroked his abdomen and moved his upper body over the side of the divan. He began to trace his hands’ path with his tongue.

Inhaling deep Thranduil felt his desire growing for the dancer, when he felt the teeth of the elf pulling on the loincloth he wore. Using lips, teeth and fingers Lithônion freed him and then rose to his full high. He arched himself backwards and showing his talent for acrobatics, he more or less flipped while he took his own loincloth off. Instantly Thranduil reached out to grab him and pull him tight. Instead, Lithônion took his hands and placed them on the perfectly shaped cheeks of his butt, allowing Thranduil to squeeze them.

Slowly, he allowed himself to be pulled closer until the prince had him on the divan. Turning himself so fast that the other elf barely could follow with his eyes Lithônion’s head disappeared in Thranduil’s lap. He leaned back and moaned when he felt the dancer’s tongue snake out to caress the tip of his dick before he sucked it deeply into his throat. Thranduil gasped for air and held his toy’s head between his hands, showing him the rhythm that he wanted. Lithônion started to wonder if the elf would want anything unusual and hoped that he would not be taken too hard and what he might eat for breakfast as well. He never ate before he had to tend to the king or to one of his friends and he was already hungry and hoped to be done soon and back in this tent.

“Enough, stop teasing me,” Thranduil moaned. Lithônion did as he was ordered and Thranduil grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him on his back. His cock was hard and when the ellon on his divan spread his legs and smiled at him invitingly, he wanted to have him. He could not hold him back. Pushing Lithônion down, he flung himself on top of him. Desperately he searched for the elves anus and when he found it, he probed him instantly. How surprise Thranduil was to discover how well the ellon had prepared himself before he came. No more preparation was need and he would not have to find a jar of grease. His finger slipped into the elf as if they had been lovers since ages. Quickly he added another finger, widening him. When he felt no resistance, he could not hold himself back any longer.

Thranduil’s cock pressed against Lithônion who inhaled quietly and closed his eyes to relax. He knew he had to. Even though he was used to be penetrated, he feared to be in pain if he did not properly give in. Much to his surprise Thranduil entered him slowly and not as harsh as Gil Galad often did and then left him in pain and often bleeding.

The elf even pressed himself against the other elf to give him a deeper feeling. Thranduil groaned and began to push. First, he thought to take his time, to enjoy every thrust into the tightness of the other elf, but then he could not hold back. He propped himself up on his elbows, he began to pound hard into the ellon. Constantly he whispered words into Lithônion’s ears and his breath began to moisten his skin on his neck.

Suddenly he withdrew. Lithônion stared at him wondering if something had been wrong.

“Turn around quick. I want to have you this way.”

Faster than light, Thranduil mounted the dancer from behind and rocked him hard. This time he moaned and Lithônion’s fingernails dug deep into the fabric of the divan cover. The prince became rougher and pounded hard into him. He slapped Lithônion’s butt every time he thrust into him. The dancer closed his eyes, because he was hurting. But he did not say anything. Instead, he moaned and cried out, hoping this would help to spurn Thranduil so much that he would spend himself.

He pushed his butt back and cheered Thranduil to be faster and stronger, to give him more and to ride him hard. In truth, Lithônion wanted to get over with it – now. It did not take the other elf long. With a feral scream, Thranduil spent himself into the perfect body of the dancer. Every jet that spurted out of him seemed to be endless for Lithônion and gone too fast for the prince. He kept himself inside until he grew soft and slipped out, leaving a silvery trace on Lithônion’s thighs.

Thranduil dropped down into the pillows. He was breathing hard. This dancer had been the most delicate built elf he had ever been with. Lithônion slipped away and found a bowl of clove scented water and a sponge on the small table to the back of the tent. He carefully washed Thranduil’s elf hood and then covered him with a blanket. His breathing had become normal again and Lithônion was sure Thranduil had already quickly fallen asleep because of the wine earlier and then also from having just emptied himself.

He kneeled down to collect his loincloth, slippers and his robe that he had thrown aside when he had danced. Lithônion yawned and was about to get up again, throwing his robe over his shoulders, but then he jumped, spooked. He had been wrong. Thranduil was not asleep at all. Instead, he had enjoyed the sponging and being covered. His eyes were wide open and he was wide awake.

He stared aghast at the dancer, “What are you doing?”

“I am leaving, my lord. My service is over, right? I was told to satisfy you and lend my body to you and this I have done. I take my leave now, since you enjoyed me.” Lithônion bowed.

Suddenly Thranduil’s heart became heavy. If the ellon left now, he would be all alone this night before the battle. He remembered that Gil Galad had told him to return the dancer by dawn and obviously, the courtesan knew that after having done his duty that he was allowed to leave.

He swallowed hard trying to find his words to address the king’s pleasure toy right.

“Lithônion, that is your name, right?”

“Aye, my lord, that is how I was named.”

“Why don’t you stay here instead of wandering through the dark camp alone?” Thranduil carefully asked, hoping he would not upset the ellon, who was about to turn. He took the bowl with the sweets that he had ordered, “I have not given you anything back yet.”

“You do not have to, my lord. It was my duty to make you happy.”

“Please. Lithônion, please stay. I will pay whatever you ask, but do not go yet. Please.”

Surprised the dancer turned on his heels and blankly stared at his client.

“Did I not please you right?” Lithônion was stunned and fear welled up in his heart. If Gil Galad found out that Thranduil had not been happy with his services, the punishment would be hard.

“No! You have been the most amazing lover I ever had. You are beautiful, you have the most delicious body I ever saw and you even smell so good. Please do not ask, just stay with me tonight.”

Lithônion sighed. Indeed this tent was more comfortable then his and the sweets were very seductive to him, since he felt nagging hunger in his tummy already. The thought of getting a gem or two for his own pocket was very inviting for him. He had already collected a decent pouch full from the king’s friends who he had been sent to lie with. He would buy freedom with them one day.

Thranduil reached with the bowl of sweets and when Lithônion took one, he hoped to win him. He still held them and offered the dancer another one, but when he wanted to take it, Thranduil smiled and pulled it playfully back. To his biggest delight, Thranduil suddenly saw Lithônion really smile, not the act he had played during the dance or while being at his will.

Lithônion stayed and to his surprise Thranduil began to caress him. Gently he kissed his cheeks and his neckline. When Lithônion laid back into the pillows, he closed his eyes. Thranduil was a giver not only a taker, and he gave him pleasures back that he had not had in uncounted years.

Later they lay entangled on the divan. Lithônion’s head rested on Thranduil’s arm, a warm sensation still was floating through his body. His own desires had been stilled and Thranduil who denied himself the blanket covered the dancer carefully. Lithônion felt wonderful and he pulled the blanket from his upper body and leaned over to Thranduil. Gently he kissed him.

Astonished the prince soaked up the kiss and then dragged the elf down on his arm again; enjoying having his warm body and his soft skin so close to him.

Rubbing his cheek over Lithônion’s chestnut brown hair, he whispered. “You did not have to do that. I know that in your employment kissing is not right, because you give something away of yourself.”

“It feels right and I wanted too.”

Lithônion did not lie. Their first encounter had been plain business, but now after so many hours of having been treated like a lover and not like a whore, it had been right to kiss Thranduil. Even though his body was sore, he had no idea how he would be able to swiftly walk to his tent and he even worried more how he should ride his horse at all, Lithônion had enjoyed being with him. He sighed deep when he was drifting into reverie. He did not want to think what the next day would bring. But one thing he knew for sure; Thranduil had touched him deep inside.

Thranduil stared into the darkness. His hand petted the dancer’s bare chest. He tilted his head and placed a kiss on Lithônion’s ivory white shoulder. He listened to the peaceful breathing of the courtesan and could not imagine how Gil Galad could bear to hand this wonderful being out as if he was a slave and he shivered under the imagination what would happen to the dancer at the victorious feast, if it would happen at all.

And in his head, an idea was forming.

The stench of blood, vomit and emptied intestines hung heavy in the air. Lithônion was shaking all over his body. His battle armor was covered with things he could not even name and his hair seemed to be glued to his head with blood. Though the elf did not know if it was his own blood or from those that he had slain.

When Mordor emptied, he suddenly had been called to war too. He had guessed it would happen and that is why he had his servant ordered to pack his armor and sword long before they had left. He had promised himself that he would lay his life down at the first moment he was needed. Then after the last night and when dawn came, Thranduil had held him tight, he knew he wanted to live. Spirit had come back into his heart.

He wiped over his face to discourage the flies that were swarming over the bodies already and were considering him a part of their feast too. Wherever he looked the dead were about. Men, elves and orcs even the carcasses of trolls and creatures for which he had not even a name, were to be piled and burned.

A young ellon screamed in pain only feet away from him. Desperately the youth held on to his abdomen. Lithônion closed his eyes for an instant when he saw that the young only tried to stuff his intestine back into his body. There was no chance for the young one to survive this injury as he had bled himself pale already.

Lithônion climbed over the stiff body of a horse to reach the young. He kneeled down and spoke words of prayer to the Valar. He comforted the young and lifted his head.

“My name is Cugethir. I am from Lindon. I know you from the fortress. Tell my naneth that I love her…” the young one coughed and blood appeared in the corner of his mouth.

“You will tell her how brave you were, what a great warrior you are,” Lithônion whispered and pulled his hidden dagger from his boot.

“My things here…I can not get them back.” the warrior moaned and tried to point at his belly.

“The healers are out, they will help you. Do not speak so much, you loose strength.”

Lithônion’s voice was soothing him and a relieved smile formed on his lips when the dagger suddenly shot into his neck severing the nerve cords, releasing the warrior from further pain.

The dancer stood up. Tears welled up in his eyes and he turned away to find a stray horse somewhere. His own had been lost as well. He was in deep thought.

Lithônion shrieked when he was grabbed around the waist and pulled from the ground. He raised his dagger, about to stab whoever had caught him; but a strong hand took the weapon away.

“Gil Galad is dead.”

“Oh,” Lithônion only said in his surprise.

“My father was slain too.”

“I am sorry.”

“The last elven king asks for you,” Thranduil paused and added “and he wants you to have free will coming with him. Will you?”

“Aye, my lord. I will come with you. I will follow you to the end of the world.”