So I got this idea from a figure skating routine I saw in the Winter Olympics a long time ago.
It was so slow and bittersweet, so I decided just a few days ago to write a oneshot with a similar theme.

I hope you all enjoy it.
~*~

Legolas, your mother loved you. More than anything...

more than life itself.

Thranduil sat on his great throne, surrounded by the dim light of lamps and the total emptiness of his dark halls.

His Queen, his beloved wife, had died many years ago. And now his only son, Legolas, had left as well.

Most days the Elvenking spent in idleness, lounging on his throne, having no care for the outside world. And sometimes his complacency grew to the point where had no care for anything within his borders as well.

The Valar saw this, and Eru knew that Thranduil would have a large part to play in the coming War. The War to end all wars....

So they sent him something to shatter the ice encasing his silently grieving heart, in order for him to have the virtue and care to fight for Middle-earth.

* * *

"My lord, there is someone demanding an audience with you!"

A guard was walking briskly towards Thanduil, announcing this loudly.

The indifferent Elf's blue eyes shifted their gaze from his goblet of wine to the guard.

"Do you know who they are?"

"No, they are cloaked, I have not seen their face...."

Thranduil, slightly intrigued, leaned forward.

"Although I know that it is a woman, or an elleth, based upon her voice and stature."

He waited only a few moments for Thranduil's answer.

"Let them come."
The words ehoed deeply off the dark wood of the vaulted walls and ceiling.

"They well be here shortly, my lord."

And with that, the guard left, his footsteps echoing as well.

So the King waited, trying to cover his interest with a mask of indifference.

* * *

"Announcing she who is to have an audience with the Elvenking!"

The guard's voice rang out again, sounding proud, and once again he walked towards Thranduil.

But this time he wasn't walking on the narrow, rail-less walkway alone, for a figure wearing a deeply hooded cloak was walking alongside him, with their head slightly bent.

The King's curiousity almost ached as they strode towards him with what almost seemed painfully slow steps.

Indeed, the figure was a female, just as the guard had said. But why would she want to see him?

Finally, they reached the dais where the magnificent throne sat.

"Shall I stay here, my lord? She has been very quiet about why she came to see-"

But at that moment, the mysterious woman looked up and into his eyes, and Thranduil utterly forgot everything else around him.

Menelwen

"My lord?"

Thanduil's concentration was completely shattered, so his reply stumbled clumsily off his lips.

"No...Uh, yes. I have no need for you to stay."

Thranduil then gave the guard a sharp glance, at which he quickly turned and walked away, feeling somewhat baffled.

They both waited for the footsteps to completely die away before the floodgates opened.

He strode down the steps of his throne slowly as he gazed at her.

"How."

That was all the King could say, he felt all the pain of her death begin to come back as tears filled his eyes.

"Thranduil, it's such a long story, and the last part with you in it is filled with grief."

At this, his wife unclasped her cloak, and it fell at her feet.

She was wearing a dark blue dress that cascaded down to the floor, and its colors shifted and changed as she breathed and moved.

She was just as beautiful as he remembered her.

Thranduil was done with not showing anything, his inner dam that held back every feeling shattered.

"No! It cannot be! I watched you bleed out! You..." At this moment, Thranduil's voice broke, as did his kingly composure.
"You died, in my arms, and since that day I have put no faith in myself. Because I couldn't. save. you."

Menelwen watched silently, her amber orbs filling with tears at the state of her husband.

Tears.

It had been a lifetime since Thranduil had felt them, and they felt so hot as they streamed from his icy blue eyes and down his face.

He reached the bottom of the steps and stood but a few meters away from his wife.

"The Powers sent me, they told me your mind had strayed into a state of... Near-madness. And I knew that wasn't anything close to the strong, compassionate king I knew and loved so much!"

As she said this, Menelwen walked slowly towards the Elvenking, who was weeping silently with his face turned away from her.

"This is another dream."

"No! It is not! Look at me, please!"

Please

The last time Thranduil had shed tears was on the day his Queen fell.
A large company of Haradrim had come across their small hunting party at the roots of the Misty Mountains, this encounter of course, lead to bloodshed. And they slew every one of his soldiers, including her. But they left the broken King, which was more cruel a fate then death, as anybody would know.

"I can save you! It's not far to the nearest village!"

"No meleth, we both know that the medicines of Men cannot save me."

"We should try! We need to!"

"I would rather die in peace, safe in your arms then die surrounded by a dozen mortal healers who have no hope of extracting the poison inside of me."

Thranduil sobbed and held his wife close as he felt her fading.

"Promise me you'll look after our son... Please."

But he had not the strength to answer.
And he looked away when the light faded from her eyes.

He cried long into the night, with nothing but the rain to listen to the sound of his sorrow.

So Thranduil did look at Menelwen, but he felt no consolation when his gaze met hers.

"I didn't look after Legolas like you asked me to.... He left, years ago."

"I know, I know... But he has a bigger role to play in this than you might think. And his leaving was essential for the Valar's plan."

"Menelwen... Why are you here?" He sighed as the last of his tears flowed out.

"To be specific, I need to heal something inside you. Something that was broken long ago."

"What is it? I long to caress you again, but what's the catch? Will you disappear as soon as I touch you?"

Thranduil began to step closer to her, for the first time in nearly six thousand years.

"What? No! The Powers were intending for us to finish something that was interrupted when the Haradrim attacked that night..."

"The dance?" Thranduil said, disbelief filling his every word.

"Yes, do you remember the way I do?"

"Of course."

A few of the soldiers had began to play a slow, sweet tune on their lyres as the evening glow faded from the cloudy sky.

Thranduil smiled at his wife,
, re
"My beautiful lady, would you consider giving me the pleasure of this dance?" He asked wryly, extending his hand and gazing into her eyes.

"Hm... I suppose." She countered, a twinkle growing in her eye.

So they danced, the sound of music filling the air.

Thranduil suddenly felt the urge to tell Menlewen how much he loved her.

So he leaned in and tenderly whispered,

"Le melin."

A long silence followed, filled with a slow, deep kiss.

And they had no idea that this was the last kiss they would ever share, and that their dance would be soon interrupted. Replaced with a grief that lasted for thousands of years.

"They sent me to finish that moment that was shattered, the waltz that we didn't know would be the prelude to a long and cold separation"

To a distant onlooker, no music would be heard. But the two lovers could clearly hear that exact same tune gracing the dias that was playing so long ago.

Neither of them would remember how or when they came towards each other to begin the dance, all that lingered in their minds was a soft gliding motion, and a deep, deep, love that they both knew hadn't faded in the least since they had last parted.

Thranduil didn't know what to do, except hold his wife, his Queen, his lady, as close as on the day she died.

Music played on, and their heartbeats aligned.

They cared not whether a moment or an Age had passed.

When at last the music began to fade, Thranduil kissed Menelwen deeper than he ever had before.

"Le melin." He whispered, his voice heavy with grief, guessing that this would be goodbye for another long, long time until they met at last upon those brilliant silver shores beyond the Sea.

Menelwen smiled into her King's kiss, and within a few seconds Thranduil found himself kissing white rose petals as they slowly drifted to the ground.

He stood there for hours, silent tears flowing. But he had a small, bittersweet smile gracing his strong features as he stared at the pile of fragrant petals.

For his heart no longer felt so cold, and he knew that Menelwen was waiting for him.

~THE END~

Wow, this one... I liked writing this one, what do you guys think about it?

Good?

Okay?

I'm SURE it's not bad, despite how critical I am about my writing.

Well, I hope you all have a great day and God bless you.

~ Tatharel