Chapter 12: Tidings of Comfort and Joy

A/N: Greetings, readers! Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading this. I'm especially grateful to Kumi Kinomoto for my most recent review. I know there's no good excuse for waiting so long to update, but I recently got engaged (to a real person, not King Thranduil) and I've been occupied with planning the wedding. Enjoy!

Brinya's hands shook as she smoothed the wrinkled parchment out in front of her. Her eyes filled with tears and she struggled to make out the words through her blurry vision. It began,

"My dearest daughter,

I pray that this letter finds you and your sister well. I also pray that my gamble has paid off and that you and your sister have been completely isolated in Mirkwood and therefore know nothing of the terror that has ravaged our countryside. It is not a pleasant story to tell, but I can no longer justify keeping you in the dark. You and your sister can offer no help at the present time and I wished to spare you anguish. This is not a pretty story to tell, but I will start at the beginning.

Two autumns past, a merchant was seen crossing the mountains to the north into our borders. According to those who witnessed his arrival, the man himself was unremarkable. He was well dressed with the manners of a gentleman and he tipped the innkeepers where he stayed handsomely. What was remarkable, and what witnesses still recall with horror, was his cargo. The man was a sorcerer. The monsters he brought into our kingdom, supposedly for trade, were the Soul Thieves. I grew up hearing tales of these beings, but until they arrived in our land I assumed they were nothing more than a child's bedtime story. I worry now that my ignorance has led us to disaster.

Soul Thieves are unlike any other forms of life for which we have names. They are not quite beasts, not quite ghosts, and they are certainly not quite men. They are more dangerously contagious than any plague. They spread their reign of terror and swell their ranks by transforming their victims. Anyone who is unfortunate enough to feel their icy breath or smell its unholy stench transfigures completely within a fortnight. Slowly, the victim's humanity drains away and they are left with nothing but their most evil qualities. These shells of their former selves wreak havoc on the places they once called home and the people they once called friends and family. They are not immortal nor are the preternaturally strong or swift, but they inspire such terror in their adversaries that many good men often perish before a few of them can be overcome. I am overwrought at how useless my crown has proven to its people. I do not say I despair of overcoming this evil, but there seems to be little reason to hope. It is my fervent wish that you and your sister will remain in Mirkwood indefinitely. I hope against hope that I will be able to write to you with better tidings and beckon you home, but until such time, I beg you to make yourself useful to your host and ingratiate yourself with him in any way you can. I say this not so much to caution you, but with the idea that you may impress the importance of this to your sister and persuade her to do likewise. She has never had to work for her place or say thank you for what until now has been her birthright. She may not accept it gracefully. I pray that God watches over you both and keeps you from danger.

With all my love,

Your father

Brinya stifled her cries with her hand. She had to talk to Anoria about this, but she wanted to ask Thranduil a few things first. He was obviously keeping some information from her. Surely the princess would have gotten a letter as well. While her father may have abbreviated some of the more grotesque details for her sister's delicate sensibilities, his general message must have been the same. They were going to be guests here in Mirkwood indefinitely. Indeed, he seemed to think it was very likely that they might never return home.

My dear father,

You may rest easy on one account. Your letter finds Anoria and me both in good health and good spirits. King Thranduil has been most accommodating and I sincerely believe that we will remain welcome additions to his court for as long as conditions should necessitate. Nothing can compare with your trials at home, but much has happened here which is of import. I do not think you have time for flowery lines of poetry, so I will be concise. Be advised that what I have to say may shock you. There is a young man at court (I think he is young enough at any rate)that Anoria seems especially taken with. His name is Bard and he is the Master of Laketown. This is not the shocking news, but I feel duty bound to keep you appraised of her interests as well as I can. Now we come to the real news and I find that I do not know how to tell you this gently. I have lately been married. If that were not surprising enough, it is the other party of this marriage that must truly shock you. It still shocks me and I was there. It is to King Thranduil. I am now queen of the woodland realm. I know that at first this must seem like a jest, but I beg you and the queen to regard this news with absolute solemnity as it is the truth. I promise to divulge the details when I see you both in person. For now, let us simply say that time here has been magical.

Your faithful daughter,

Brinya

Anoria read a similar letter and composed her own response.

Beloved Mother and Father,

The news from your letter strikes at my very core. It pains me deeply that I must remain apart from you and our people. In this time of danger we ought to be united and strong for Balinor's sake. I wish I could come to you, but I will stay here as you command. I defer to your wisdom now more than ever. While I don't wish to distract you from the difficulties I know you are facing, I must write a few lines about what has transpired since we arrived here in Mirkwood. You will never believe it, but you must believe it because I am telling you the whole truth. My only sister has gotten married. I am a little hurt that I was not invited to attend to the ceremony, but it was held at night under the moon, and I am given to understand that such things are not uncommon here. No one thought that I might wish to be invited. The marriage itself is not even the most shocking part of the news. It is the man to whom she is wed that you will hardly believe. It is King Thanduil himself. Do not be angry, Mother, at what you may perceive as haste. I know you and so I know your moods when you hear unexpected news. It is common knowledge here that he pursued her most ardently, and what woman could resist his charms?

After so many in the kingdom had given her up as an old spinster, my sister now rules the wealthiest and most powerful kingdom I can think of. I would love to see the faces of all those harpies at court now. I will not burden you with all the details now, but I promise that we may discuss it at great length at our next meeting. Do not despair yet, Father. Although none of us could ever have foreseen this turn of events, it may turn out to be a boon to all of Balinor, not only to my sister. With Brinya as his wife, Thranduil cannot fail to send troops to Balinor's aid. We could never have expected or imagined such a thing from him before, but now I am certain that the elves will help our people. I will speak to Brinya about it post haste and I am certain that arrangements will be made as soon as possible.

Your Anoria

Anoria signaled to one of the palace servants to post her letter immediately. She hoped her parents would read her reply before they read her sister's. Their letters were bound to contain much of the same information, but Anoria especially enjoyed breaking shocking news to the king and queen. Even though she wouldn't be able to see their faces, she hoped that her letter would be the one to completely surprise them.

Later that night Thranduil made his way through the ancient halls without making a sound. He often wandered late at night when everyone else was asleep. He was rarely able to walk these halls without being accosted by someone with a matter that needed his attention. He loved his kingdom and his subjects, but sometimes he wanted to enjoy his home without worrying about its management. The news of his recent marriage had come as a surprise to everyone, but once the initial shock had worn off there had been much rejoicing. People, particularly women, had come out of the woodwork to wish him happiness with his new bride. He had noticed a certain coldness from Princess Anoria since the news had reached her, but he had no doubt her feelings would mellow with time. She wasn't used to losing something she wanted to her sister. To hasten the process, he brought Bard to the palace at every opportunity. He suspected that Bard was not entirely ignorant of his true motives, but he never protested. After all, Anoria was a beautiful girl. Bard was what some people called middle aged. His oldest daughter was nearing adulthood, but he certainly wasn't too old to see the appeal of future marital bliss. He still had his health and his looks. With the status and wealth conferred on him by his new position, he hoped to yet make another woman very happy.

Thranduil stirred from his reverie when he saw a figure lurking around the next corner. He wondered who but him would be walking the corridors this late at night. He quickened his pace and his hand went to the hilt of his sword, which hung in the scabbard strapped to his waist. The figure did not appear to notice him and it kept moving at the same speed as before. Thranduil stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who, or rather, what it was. It was the figure of a woman. She looked pale and emaciated. Her white robes hung off of her skeletal frame in tatters. She was a wraith. He could feel the malevolence pouring from her in waves. He drew his sword silently. He could call for a guard and wake the castle, but why? He could dispatch this one creature himself. He approached the figure without making a sound, as only an elf could. She turned and he drew back his arm to deliver the death blow. He stopped, his blade an inch from her throat. It was Brinya. "No," he whispered and staggered back, "It cannot be you." He had left his bride asleep in their chamber only minutes before. She couldn't be here. She couldn't be this thing.

He stared into her sorrowful eyes, the eyes that he knew so well. She reached down and put her hand to her stomach, which was swollen and distended. "Your child did this to me," she rasped, and he could feel her sour breath on his face. She smelled like the dead. She was a dead thing that moved. He drew back another step as she spoke again, "It is not just my body that will wither and die. Your spawn will suck out my very spirit. Edain women are not strong enough to bear Eldar children. Beware. This is our fate." Thranduil could feel his whole body shaking. He belatedly realized that this was fear. He was afraid, both for himself and for Brinya, but what could he do? Had he already condemned her to this destiny?

"I'm so sorry," he told the figure softly, "How do I prevent this? Tell me how to save you. I'll do anything, please." The last word was an afterthought. He was not used to pleading with anyone. He felt the figure's hatred soften a measure.

When she spoke it was not with the raspy voice of a corpse, but with Brinya's own sweet voice. "You must convince me that you do not want children. Say that the pain of losing them to mortal death is too great. Persuade me that you would be happier without them." Her hand strayed again to her abdomen and the hate returned. Brinya's voice was gone and once again the wraith spoke with the voice of one long past the point of speech, "I died trying to give you what you wanted. I gave my soul to bear you a child you could hold onto when I was gone." She reached her gnarled bony fingers toward him and this time he didn't back away. He let her touch him with those terrifying dead hands and he felt the life leave his body.

Thranduil gasped and sat straight up in bed. His body was covered in sweat. His silk nightshirt was soaked and plastered to his back. His hair was matted to his neck and forehead. His wife stirred next to him, but did not wake. She looked like an angel with the moonlight on her still form. He had to protect her. He had to make sure she never turned into the figure from his nightmare. It would break her heart, but he had to convince her that he didn't want children. He wouldn't let anything take her from him, not even something he had a hand in making.