Speak Again

fanfiction by Wild Iris


With what care must the pyre have been tended: each bough laid with attention to the structure of the whole, each leaf and fragment of ash meticulously gathered and borne away. Beneath the oaks, the charred ground formed an almost perfect circle, a pool reflecting nothing but a starless sky.

Thranduil broke the shape by stepping into it. He gazed at the black earth and untrodden frost, the old trees clipped so that fire long cold would not hinder them. "Here we will hold our feast," he said. "Gather the people; bring pine and apple wood; bring wine; bring music."