The air constricting around him was almost suffocating, slowly squeezing the very air from his lungs. His body rebelled at the sensation, yet he was unable to break free from this invisible restraint.

He had to get back to Charlotte...

As suddenly as it had taken hold of him, the sensation vanished, along with the haunting silence that had enveloped him.

His senses came alive all at once, his hearing flooding with the sound of war that now raged around him. Cries of death, screams of pain, the clanging of metal on metal – it all pummeled him at once. Coupled with the metallic smell of blood, gore and death that permeated the air, there was no mistaking where he was.

He had been returned, back to the exact moment from whence he had been taken, no time having passed at all...

His heart gave a painful twist.

Charlotte...she was gone...

Thranduil closed his eyes in pain. It would be so easy to give in to his grief and let death claim him now...

The heavy treads of orcs surrounding him broke him from his inner turmoil. Thranduil slowly raised his head, his sight blurred by unshed tears.

At the sight of the foul creatures, something within him snapped, and what filled him now was blinding fury. It was an anger that stemmed from losing the woman who had claimed his heart and knowing there was nothing he could do. Not then, not now. There was no bringing her back from death.

His sights focused on the beasts surrounding him, snarling and snapping as they advanced.

He had found an outlet for his anger...

With swift and precise movements, Thranduil slashed out, his swords biting through foul orc flesh. He became lost in the flawless dance of death as he laid waste to the filth. No sooner had one dropped to the ground than his attention swiftly turned to the next, his movements now a blur of pent up fury that stemmed from his anguish.

Soon the bodies of the orcs littered the ground, and still it wasn't enough. He wanted to make them feel what he was experiencing right now: crippling agony that threatened to tear his very being to shreds.

He soon got his wish. The enemy started swarming the city of Dale with their infestation, and he narrowed his concentration on fighting orc after orc, the burn in his muscles a welcome distraction from what plagued his heart and mind.

The battle waged with ferocity, countless bodies of humans, elves and orcs blanketing the ground in tangled heaps, their blood seeping into the stones and turning grey to red. But he saw none of it. He was mindlessly bent on causing as much destruction to the plague that threatened to overrun them. He knew that if he stopped for but one moment, his grief would consume him. Unfortunately, he had forged an alliance with Bard, and he had no choice but to see this through to the bitter end.

When this was all over, though, he would seek out solitude to mourn Charlotte's death, and soon fade from his torment...

The passage of time had little to no bearing as he fought bitterly, but after the last orc surrounding him was slain, he became acutely aware that this section of the city had been cleared, and there was now a brief moment's reprieve.

Thranduil straightened and slowly surveyed his surroundings.

He needed to keep move, keep fighting...else his grief would consume him.

A bitter thought came to him, like a whisper on the night: maybe it had been a good thing that he had withheld from bonding with Charlotte. If what he was experiencing right now was any indication, then the loss of Charlotte - especially after forging a bond with her - would have reduced him to ashes in the wind.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to move. If he did not, he was sure that he would lose the will to continue.

Promise me you will not fade...

He blinked back his tears at Charlotte's dying words. Fade he would...but not now. He had to hold on a bit longer until the battle was won.

His gazed about, almost in a lost daze, until his eyes fell upon the faces of his fallen subjects scattered at his feet. He halted.

It was no longer their faces that he beheld. Instead, he now saw Charlotte's face, sallow and grey as death snuffed out her inner light, reflected in each of their features. His breath caught in his throat, his heart twisting tightly in his chest.

Her death would always haunt him.

The swift treads of Feren approaching forced him back to the present - and back to reality. He was in the middle of a fierce battle, and now he, King of the Woodland Realm, had to think about the well-being of his subjects. He had little to no choice but to cast aside all emotions and act as their King.

Coming to a decision, he gave the order to Feren, "Recall your company." His tone sounded disembodied to his ears.

Feren complied and soon his horn blared through the air, giving the signal for the elves to retreat and return to their King's side.

No sooner had the call been given and some of his army started converging around him, Gandalf rushed towards him as fast as his aged form would allow.

"My Lord!" he huffed in his gravelly voice. Gandalf clutched his staff in his gnarled hand as he continued in a harried tone, "Dispatch this force to Ravenhill. The dwarves are about to be overrun." Gandalf paused, catching his breath. "Thorin must be warned."

Thranduil stared back at the wizard with stony silence. Did Mithrandir really expect him to send his kindred to be slaughtered? Had not enough precious blood been spilled this day?

His anger boiled forth and he now focused his ire upon Gandalf.

"By all means - warn him." Thranduil replied condescendingly as he pushed past him. "I have spent enough elvish blood in defense of this accursed land."

I have lost too much...

As he strode away, his voice wavered with emotion. "No more!"

He barely registered the wizard calling after him. He had to leave this place. Her memory was everywhere; her death reflected on every face that lay motionless on the ground. He had to escape before his emotions overwhelmed him and he succumbed to his grief. Now!

As he rounded a corner, an orc lunged at him, but he swiftly felled the creature without a backward glance. Nothing was going to stand in his way.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Tauriel blocking his escape. She stood tall with a certain resolve radiating from her.

"You will go no further!" she commanded with an air of authority. Her voice wavered slightly as she continued. "You will not turn away. Not this time."

Thranduil glared at her with all the resentment he was feeling at this very moment. The insolent elleth was standing on very dangerous ground as she proceeded to block his way, and he didn't know how much longer her could hold onto his fast fading composure.

"Get out of my way!" he snarled, his temper ready to burst forth. He did not have time, nor patience, for this.

"The dwarves will be slaughtered!" she stated, her brilliant green eyes shimmering.

She thinks she loves the dwarf?! She knows nothing of love...

Thranduil had had enough, and a cruelness overtook him; he was going to make her feel but an ounce of what he was feeling.

"Yes," he sneered, "they will die."

He watched with grim satisfaction as his words hit their mark like a knife, her composure quickly crumbling. Good, he thought maliciously as he stalked towards her.

"Today. Tomorrow. Once year hence, a hundred years from now. What does it matter?" He paused, fighting the wave of agony that threatened to drown him. This was the fate he would have had to come to terms with if Charlotte had lived long enough to age. But she would never age now. She was now lost to him. Forever.

"They are mortal," he concluded, clenching his fists to his side at the injustice of it all.

Mortal and doomed to die a mortal death.

Tauriel's eyes flashed and she instantly had her bow and arrow pointed at him. Thranduil paused, surprised out of his dark thoughts. But that surprise was quickly washed away by fury.

"You think your life is worth more than theirs, when there is no love in it?" she ground out. "There is no love in you!"

Thranduil froze in place, his blood running cold and then hot at her accusations. How dare she judge him when she had not an inkling of what he had just gone through! What he was still going through!

He deceptively cast his gaze aside and then with lightning fast reflexes, he slashed out with his sword and slew her bow in half. Before she could blink, he had the tip of his sword pointed at her throat. Tauriel stared back at him with eyes wide with shock.

"What do you know of love? Nothing!" he spat. She had not experienced the profound love that he had shared with Charlotte. She would never bask in the pure light that only true love could reflect. "What you feel for that dwarf is not real." He watched as a lone tear trickled down her cheek. "You think it is love? Are you ready to die for it?"

Just as Charlotte had willingly died for him...She had truly loved him and now he would never experience that love again.

He was vaguely aware that he was being destructive and callous in both his words and actions, but he was too wrapped up in his grief to really care. He just wanted all of this to be over with.

Suddenly another sword fell upon his and Thranduil slowly turned his gaze to meet the anger-filled features of his son, Legolas.

"If you harm her, you will have to kill me," he stated with heated conviction.

Thranduil stared back at him, his son whom he had not seen in what felt like forever, and all words fled him as he came to a disconcerting revelation: he was about to lose his son as well. Suddenly the memory of the movies flashed before his very eyes and he realised he was going to have to do the most difficult thing he had ever done in his life: he was going to have to let his son go.

There was now no choice but to let this play out the way it was meant to in order for future events to be fulfilled - even if it meant that his whole world would shatter anew.

Utter desolation enveloped him as Legolas walked away with Tauriel, and it took every ounce of willpower not to go after him.

He took a shuddering breath.

How much more would he have to go through? How much more would he have to lose? Had he not suffered enough?

"My Lord?" came Feren's soft voice from behind him.

You gave your allegiance, and you have to honor it, regardless of what you are feeling right now...You are King and you do not have the luxury of giving in to your sorrow. Not now.

Thranduil straightened and composed himself with great difficulty. He turned to face his guard and stated. "We see this to the end."

The battle seemed to wage on for an eternity, but with the death of Azog at the hands of Thorin Oakenshield the remaining enemy fled, chased down and slain by Dain's army. There would be no survivors on the enemies' side by nightfall.

Thranduil gave out the order for their dead to be gathered and given a proper elvish funeral. Their lives would be honored and remembered, their sacrifice not in vain. And then, in the morn, they would head back home to Greenwood.

Home...could he even call it that anymore? His heart now belonged elsewhere.

No, his kin would return home. He had another matter to attend to first, namely demanding and audience with Lady Galadriel. She owed him a very good explanation for putting him through this torment.

But, presently, there was a matter more pressing that he had to take care of first.

He meandered through the winding halls of the crumbling Ravenhill in search of Legolas, his gaze flittering over the bodies of orcs that lay scattered around.

He stopped as he heard the approach of his son and shortly after Legolas rounded the corner, his features plainly showing his despondency. But when he met his father's gaze, there was none of the anger from before there, and this gave Thranduil hope that their relationship could be mended. He could not let his son depart on bad terms.

Legolas, who was usually so confident, now seemed uncertain, as though he was warring with an internal struggle.

"I...cannot go back."

Thranduil had known this moment was coming, but it did not make it hurt any less.

"Where will you go?" Thranduil asked, recalling word for word how this scene would play out.

Legolas stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

"I do not know."

Thranduil knew he could not force his son to stay, and he would not. Legolas had a legacy to fulfill and he, Thranduil, would probably not survive long enough to witness it. But he could give him this one piece of information that he had gleaned from the movies and set him on the right path. Legolas was meant for great things, and in order to do that he first needed to find the future King.

"Go North," Thranduil said. He watched as Legolas turned to face him fully, his eyes showing slight puzzlement that his father was not putting up more of a resistance. "Find the Dunedain. There is a young ranger amongst them – you should meet him."

Legolas remained silent but was clearly listening.

Thranduil continued. "His father, Arathorn, was a good man. His son might grow to be a great one."

He let those words hang in the air. It was clear he was no longer referring to Aragorn. Legolas would accomplish many great deeds, his story living on for centuries.

Legolas glanced away, giving a nod. "What is his name?"

Thranduil paused. "He is known in the Wild as Strider. His true name...you must discover for yourself."

Legolas looked at his father, truly looked at him, and frowned in puzzlement at what he discerned. Thranduil was known to be closed off with his emotions, his temper being the exception. But now there was a certain pain reflected on his features that had not been there before. Legolas finally came to a decision and nodded, turning to walk away.

"Legolas," Thranduil called after him. He would not see his son for quite a while, many not ever again. Thranduil's path would diverge in another direction altogether and he could not leave their final parting like this.

Legolas paused and stood with his back turned to Thranduil, waiting for his parting remark.

Thranduil breathed in deeply through his nose. Legolas needed to hear these words. "Your mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life."

Legolas' posture changed subtly, and as he turned to give the elvish farewell of curling his hand over his heart, Thranduil let the truth show plainly on his face as he extended the same farewell.

As do I...More than you'll ever know.

Bowing his head, he felt his heart could not break any more than it already had as Legolas left.

He granted himself a moment of quiet grief before steeling himself. He now had to deal with Galadriel. He could not afford to break now.

As he exited Ravenhill, he paused at the sight of Tauriel slumped by Kili's side, clearly mourning. It was truly heartbreaking to witness, and he could feel her anguish pouring from her very fëa. He knew in his heart that Tauriel, too, would choose to fade instead of living with this crippling pain.

"They want to bury him," she said hoarsely, not bothering to lift her gaze to acknowledge him.

"Yes," he finally replied. That was the custom of the dwarves. He had not the strength to offer up any other words.

Tauriel finally looked up at him, her face the very picture of heartbreak. "If this is love, I do not want it."

Thranduil blinked at her words, for they were mirroring his exact thoughts. To open one's self to love also meant opening one's self to unbearable pain.

"Take it from me. Please" she pleaded, fresh tears falling from her eyes.

Thranduil could only stare at her. There was nothing he could do to help her, just as there was nothing that would ease his torment.

Tauriel closed her eyes tightly and asked, her voice cracking as she held on tightly to Kili's gloved hand, and her tears falling freely. "Why does it hurt so much?"

"Because it was real," Thranduil said softly, his own tears now threatening to fall. It had been real. It had been beautifully, and devastatingly, real.

Tauriel looked up at him as his words of truth sunk in. Her brows furrowed slightly as she witnessed her own grief mirrored in his features, and it must have given her some assurance that they were not just empty words of consolation.

Thranduil watched as she placed a kiss on Kili's lips, the tender and heartbreaking moment almost unbearable to witness.

He turned to leave, his shoulders hunched with the burden that weighed heavy on them, but he knew he could not leave her like this.

"You may return to the Woodland Realm, if you so wish, Tauriel."

Tauriel remained unmoveable, her dejected gaze fixed firmly on Kili. Finally, she looked up at him.

"I think that...my path shall be the same as yours." Her meaning was plain. They both knew that neither would survive their grief.

Thranduil gave a nod. He would respect her choice, just as she would respect his.

He turned on his heel before he could succumb to the building wave threatening to consume him in suffering.

It was time to seek an audience with the Lady of the Light.