"She must return to me, she is my life, my soul. I cannot go on without my beloved." - Finwë

Thranduil stood on the east side of the balcony of the treehouse for the last time. The ground was still carpeted in a light dusting of snow that frosty February morning. His Elf sight drifted across the Anduin to the distant hilltop peaking over the forest and he thought about what was once there. His father's fortress and his mother's gardens. He had met and wed Lasseth there, in the days before the necromancer arrived.

Lasseth, he felt guilty to think of her, as though he was being disloyal to both his wives in some way. "Hope comes on eagle's wings!" His mind was still filled with her last words. She had willed him to love again and give her beloved son the sisters she could not and he knew in his heart that he was honouring her memory. As he focused his gaze eastward, he noticed Celeborn had wasted no time sending builders to Amon Lanc. Already a structure was appearing out of the scaffolding.

Someone clearing their throat caught his attention, and he turned to see Merenthel standing behind him. "Everything is packed and ready, my Lord King. But the Queen is unwell. Perhaps we should delay our journey till the mid of the day."

Thranduil gave her a concerned look. He was keen to head for home but didn't want to risk the journey if Thorwen was sick. "What is wrong with the Queen?"

Merenthel smiled slightly. "The early days can be difficult for mortals, especially in the mornings. But I have given her some peppermint tea to soothe her discomfort, she will be much better soon."

Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief. His beloved Thorwen may be a Maia, but she was incarnate, and he knew babes grew quickly within mortal women. But he also knew their carrying could be both difficult and dangerous. Often he had heard of even the strongest of women, from the Beornings to the Dalemen had died in childbirth. Every minor discomfort Thorwen endured worried him, but he kept his concerns to himself. "Very good Merenthel, I shall return to the queen shortly and we shall travel as soon as she is well enough."

At the mid of the day, the royal progress left Cerin Amroth for the last time and began their journey towards Caras Galadhon and the Hythe. Galadriel, Celeborn, Óliel and many of the Galadhrim had gathered to bid farewell to those departing by river. The Elves loaded horses and luggage onto the swan boats, including Galadriel's basin. She had passed it to Alethris, who had told her of the stone circle in the Woodland Realm. Galadriel felt this would be a suitable place for her basin now that the power of Lothlórien was fading. Thranduil and Alethris bid her farewell. Galadriel had decided to remain as she had matters to attend to before she left her realm forever.

But Celeborn was keen to see how the building of his new palace was progressing. So, both he and Óliel joined Thranduil and Alethris in the swan boat at the head of the flotilla. As the boat pulled away, Galadriel led her people in a song of farewell. Thranduil then heard Galadriel speak to his mind. "Take good care of our beloved granddaughter. Her time in Middle Earth grows short. Her Fea is far too strong to be carried within its mortal vessel forever."

Thranduil turned to Alethris and smiled reassuringly. Though her silver eyes shone brighter than ever. She looked weary but with a bloom about her he had seen in many a pregnant female, be they Elf or Mortal. He put his arm around her, and as she rested her head upon his shoulder, he could still see the shimmer about her skin and at once understood Galadriel's warning.

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In her dreams, Almárie was once again in the pale grey robes of a Maiden of Estë. She and her maiden sisters tended to the body of the Noldor Queen whilst the King sat with her weeping, talking and pleading for her to return to him. At his side, their young prince looked on, but Almárie noticed the child showed no emotion. There was an air about him, a presence even for one so young that was both intriguing and unnerving. Lady Estë appeared, her long grey robes rustling as she walked and her voice like a gentle summer breeze. "King Finwë, it is no good. Queen Míriel will not return from Mandos. You must let her go, and raise your son alone. This is no place for a child to spend his days."

Finwë rose angrily to face her. "She must return to me, she is my life, my soul. I cannot go on without my beloved. My son must not grow up motherless!"

Lord Irmo appeared at Estë's side. "My brother has spoken with your wife and she refuses to return to her Hroa. You must go on alone."

Finwë nodded as he reluctantly took his son by the hand. "Come Curufinwë, we shall return tomorrow and try again."

In another dream, Almárie was among her maiden sisters as Lord Irmo summoned them to him. By his side was his brother, Lord Námo. He was seldom seen beyond his Halls of Mandos, where slain Elves await reincarnation. Irmo explained his brother had need of another servant in the Halls of Waiting. "To be called upon to serve, Lord Námo is both an honour and burden."

Some of the maidens volunteered, but Námo dismissed them. "No one volunteers for service in the Halls of waiting, and no one refuses." Almárie had no desire to go, for it would mean she could not come and go as she pleased to see her brother Aiwendil who served Yvanna or walk with Lady Estё upon her Island. She had no fear of Námo as some did, but then she had never been acquainted with him.

She remembered the chill as Námo silently walked among them. Then he paused in front of Almárie, fixing her with his cold silver eyes. He did not speak, but held out his hand, and she knew she could not refuse it. "My Lord," she said, bowed and placed her hand in his. The moment she did so, they were no longer in Lórien, but in the halls of waiting.

Alethris woke with a start. She felt giddy and nauseous and leaned her head out of the boat just as the porridge she had eaten earlier spewed forth into the Anduin's icy waters.

"I did not know boats made you ill, Melleth nin," said Thranduil as he rubbed her back.

Alethris wiped her mouth with her cloak. "It has not happened before."

Celeborn gave her a concerned look. "You are very pale, Alethris. Perhaps it is down to your condition. But it will not be long before we arrive at the builder's village where you can rest and recover." The boats slowed and moored at a newly constructed jetty that led to a group of small Elven hut dwellings made from timber. They were similar to the huts some of the Wood Elves lived in. Celeborn disembarked first, then helped Alethris ashore. "Welcome to Túr Athrad. It was here we crossed to victory over Dol Guldur. My people have spent all summer building this village."

"But will you not miss Galadriel, when she departs across the western sea?" asked Alethris.

"More than anything. But there are things I must oversee before I can join your grandmother in the west," replied Celeborn. He led Alethris and Thranduil to a small wooden hall on the outskirts of the settlement where they would see out the rest of the winter. Thranduil and Celeborn spent evenings reliving their youth and regaling Alethris and Óliel with tales of life in Doriath in the court of King Thingol.

After a few days, the four of them visited Amon Lanc to see how the building work was progressing on Celeborn's Palace. He spoke enthusiastically about his intentions for the building. He wanted it to be a place of learning for the Elves to pass on their skills and wisdom. "I have spoken with Vilbeorn, the new Lord of the Beornings, though his lands are now so vast he is more like a King these days. They are building a new city on the East Bight and tilling the land. We are learning much from each other."

The following day, Thranduil asked Celeborn to take them to Calenamath's grave. "I must bid my brother a fitting farewell. I owe him that, at the very least." Celeborn agreed and the three of them, along with the Huscarls, accompanied him to two green graves watched over by a large Oak. On one grave, grew long lush green grass which several rabbits were tucking into and the other was covered in small yellow flowers.

Alethris sank to her knees and ran her fingers through the grass before looking up at Celeborn. "You buried them together? Your captain refused to let me attend Aiwendil's burial."

"He was only obeying my orders, granddaughter."

Alethris nodded, placing her hands back on the ground as she communed with the roots of the trees and plants far below the forest floor. "Aiwendil is still here. He resides in every tree and blade of grass. But Calenamath, I do not feel him here. He did not linger in this place but answered the summons of Mandos." Thranduil asked if he could be alone with his brother's grave, so Alethris, Celeborn and the Huscarls waited for him a little way out of sight. There was silence for a while before they heard a beautiful but haunting lament from the king to his brother. The breeze in the trees quietened as if listening to his sad song, only rustling the leaves once he was done.

Thranduil was silent when he rejoined the company. Alethris noticed his face was strewn with tears. He did not need to speak. She understood his pain as she felt it too. She closed her eyes and placed her hand over her belly. Calenamath's death had not been in vain. When Alethris opened her eyes again, she threw her arms around Thranduil and they held each other until it was time to return to Celeborn's Hall.

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Alethris caressed her blossoming belly. Although her womb had not yet quickened, she could feel the presence of her daughter's fea growing within her. As she and Óliel left the keep, Alethris noted the buds of spring flowers were now opening, as if to see the company off on the last leg of their journey home. The Huscarls saluted Alethris as she made her way to Dúrgilroch, where Thranduil assisted her in mounting him before mounting his Elk. A herald sounded his horn, signalling the company's departure. Thranduil breathed in and glanced at Alethris with a satisfied look on his face. "Ah, it feels good to be almost home. In a few days, my people will welcome their queen and see her crowned."

A large host now headed Northward, the previous evening, a company from the south led by Faramir, Eomer and Eowyn had arrived as emissaries from Gondor and Rohan. Alethris had been overjoyed to share her happy news with her friend and hear news from Edoras. "Simbelmynë gave birth to a beautiful foal, he is white, with a Grey Mane. We have named him Greyhame, after the wizard," said Eowyn. She told Alethris of her wedding plans for the summer. Alethris replied she would be too close to her time to make the journey, but that Thranduil would send Legolas as their emissary.

Now the banners were raised and musicians played as the great host traversed the newly cleansed forest. High in the trees, birds sang as if heralding their progress. On the evening of the second day of travel, the host arrived at the narrows of the forest and border of the Beornings Realm. Lord Vilbeorn met them and his household and were guests of honour at a feast under the trees that had been prepared for them.

Vilbeorn was a large, gruff looking man of middle years with thick black hair and a long dark beard. Alethris knew him well from her scouting days and the many times he visited the Elven Halls with news from the surrounding areas. She had later learned he had been one of the Beornings who had stopped the Nuta and the Temple of Melkor in the Misty Mountains. Upon seeing Thranduil and Alethris, his stern lined face broke into an enormous smile as he embraced them both. "My old bear friend, I hope the winter has been kind to you," said Thranduil.

Vilbeorn laughed heartily. "It is good to see you again, Elven King and may I congratulate you and the Queen on your wedding. The winter has not been too severe, and the long hot summer meant Beorn Town was completed by the start of autumn." After the feast, they camped overnight with their Beorning Hosts before making their way towards the newly completed town of Beorn.