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A single leaf fell from the bough of a tree overhead, fluttering and spiralling on its way. It caught in the hair of an elf who passed silently along the path below. There it stayed, an orange broach that waved with every light movement of the elf who bore it. Soon thousands and millions of its brothers and sisters would turn and fall as well, showering the Greenwood in a carpet of yellow, gold and rust.

"Here, let me see that meleth-nin."

Thranduil reined up his horse and leaned in close to where Anthelísse reclined on her litter. The queen-in-waiting was much too far gone in the final days of pregnancy to ride anymore. Reaching up, she plucked the little orange oak leaf from Thranduil's hair.

"The first leaf of autumn." Anthelísse commented, setting the leaf on the pillow beside her. She and Thranduil took a moment to look around at the ripening beauty of the forest around them. With a sigh Thranduil looked back toward Emyn Duir.

"I wonder if we shall ever return to claim these lands again." He said sadly. "I may have been born in Doriath, but the arms of the Black Mountains have ever been the only home I've known."

"Someday." Anthelísse reassured her husband.

"Someday..." Thranduil repeated, turning away from the winding road to keep pace with the caravan of elves. A full seven thousand of their folk wended along the narrow trails of the forest, all their earthly goods accompanying them on carts and wagons. It was slow going over the rough terrain of the Greenwood.

They could all feel the eyes of their scouts from the arms of the trees all around. Gurithon had expressed numerous times just how vulnerable they would be throughout the long journey north to The Halls. Every elf with any training in woodcraft had been drafted to act as a scout, and they had multiple guards watching out for orcs at all times in all directions. The main concern was for the flank of the caravan though, and that was where Gurithon had stationed himself along with Thenniel and her company.

For some reason though, what Thranduil saw then had escaped all notice save for his own. A silent movement in the forest caught his gaze, and the elf king found himself locked in a matched stare with an enormous stag. It was a magnificent creature, such as he had only seen once before. Memory recalled the mighty animal which had escaped the Mabon feast so many years ago.

"Thranduil?" Anthelísse called, noticing that he had fallen behind his usual position beside her litter. With her condition being so tenuous, Thranduil was rarely more than arm's length away.

The stag blinked, and the timeless void that had existed between the two of them was broken. With a bow of his formidable rack of antlers, the stag turned and vanished away into the shadows. Thranduil was left wondering if this was truly the same animal as before. It defied all logic, but the feel of a kindred spirit was present with just as much intensity now as it was then.

"Are you alright, meleth?" Anthelísse asked, leaning as far forward as she could with a puzzled expression. The glow of pregnancy made her ocean blue eyes shine almost unnaturally.

"Yes, yes I'm alright." Thranduil said, shaking himself and nudging his horse into a trot to keep up. "I almost wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me though."

Anthelísse smiled and reached for Thranduil's hand. "I have wondered much the same thing as of late. My dreams have taken strange twists and turns, sometimes I almost fear that I shall still be dreaming even during my waking hours."

"What have you dreamt? Anything concerning our child?"

Releasing Thranduil's hand that he might ride comfortably without being pulled half-over to one side, Anthelísse rubbed at her rounded belly. "I cannot say with any certainty. I am no seer, but there is one dream that comes back to me time and time again." The Lady of the Noldor shifted, although from physical discomfort or disquiet Thranduil could not tell. "Nearly every night since the last turn of the moons now, I have seen you...standing on a shoreline alone by nightfall. You pace and pace, and I can only watch you from afar. Then you stop and set a single leaf down upon the beach. Waves rise with the tide and carry the leaf out to sea, towards me, but I cannot reach you or call out to you." Anthelísse shuddered, wrapping her cloak tighter around her shoulders even though the chill of autumn had not truly descended yet. "I knew it was you in my dream, but I could not see your face. You felt so far away...so very far away from me. All I had of you was that little leaf."

Alarmed to say the least, Thranduil dismounted from his horse and climbed up into the litter beside Anthelísse. Wrapping his wife in his arms, he tucked her head beneath his chin and held her close.

"Perhaps it is merely the approaching birth that had prompted such dreams, my love." He tried to reassure her, despite the chill that had settled along the length of his spine. "It cannot be long now."

Anthelísse let out a long breath, clutching tightly at Thranduil's arms almost to the point of bruising. "Perhaps." She looked up at him and drew his hand down to her stomach. "The little one has been kicking all day now fit to climb straight out on their own."

The two elves stayed entwined in one another's embrace all throughout the rest of that day's journey. The night they made camp in wooded dell, sheltered on both sides by alder, birch and ash trees of varying autumn hues. Thranduil stayed by Anthelísse's side all throughout the night, partially to watch her condition but also because he wanted to banish all traces of her dream with his presence. Neither of them fell into a reverie that night though. Instead they lay awake together in silence, speaking in ways that words could never grasp. Even Thranduil could feel that something was about to change. The hour was nigh when their lives would change forever.

An hour before the dawning, Anthelísse suddenly drew in a sharp gasp of breath. Thranduil was sitting bolt upright on their tent bed in a heartbeat. He hadn't changed out of his riding clothes from the day before, and his hair was unbound. All his focus was on Anthelísse as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"Is it time?" Thranduil asked softly.

Anthelísse looked at him, then nodded. Her golden hair fell in long waves down her back and shoulders like a shawl. The first traces of morning framed Anthelísse with a shimmering halo through the wall of the tent behind. Over the beating of his heart and the racing of his mind, Thranduil thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before in all his life. Tousled, flushed and in a plain night-robe, Anthelísse looked like life itself.

"Go, get Aislinn and tell her to fetch my kit." Anthelísse said, and the slight shake to her voice galvanized Thranduil into action. Nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste, he rushed out of their tent with a hurried collection of promises that all would be well.

A number of elves looked at their king curiously as he dashed toward the tent Aislinn shared with Anthelísse's other handmaidens. Belatedly he realized he had forgotten to ask Anthelísse if she wanted him to fetch Siroth, the chief healer from the court of the Woodland Realm. Anthelísse was a skillful healer in her own right, but he couldn't imagine she would possibly be able to birth their child without a surgeon on hand. He resolved to go for Siroth as soon as he had alerted Aislinn and his mother.

Aislinn it turned out had been waiting all night for such a summons, and was on her way across the encampment to Thranduil and Anthelísse's tent before Thranduil even finished his first sentence. Not for the first time, Thranduil wondered at the devotion of the raven-haired elleth to her lady. Then, heedless of the tangles that were accumulating in his hair nor the general disarray of his garb, Thranduil went to Queen Nellas's tent.

Nellas likewise seemed far from surprised that Anthelísse was in labor. When Thranduil mentioned that he was going for Siroth though, she stopped him.

"This is women's work, ion-nin." Nellas said gently but firmly. "Siroth is a fine healer, but he does not know the realities of carrying and birthing a child. Trust in me, and in your wife."

"But..." Thranduil tried to protest.

"Be grateful that you and Anthelísse are not humans; labor goes ever so much harder on their women than on us. Rest assured, Anthelísse is strong and brave. And this will only become easily with your second and third children." Seeing her son's stricken expression, the queen smiled. "I promise you Thranduil, never in my life have I ever heard tell of an elf woman struggling overmuch with labor. You shall have your son or daughter safely in your arms very soon, I swear it."

Thus reprimanded and reassured, Thranduil could do nothing but wait. He found Gurithon and Galion, and together the three of them went for a short walk around the perimeter of the encampment. Seeing the entirety of their people all gathered in that forest dell was quite good for regaining perspective.

Thranduil found himself fixated on any elflings that he saw though, be they very young or nearing adolescence. Elves were not as a rule incredibly prolific people, and every child was seen as a great gift. When he heard the giggles of a brother and sister at play in the trees nearby, it was the sweetest of music to the expectant father's ears. He imagined his and Anthelísse's child a thousand different ways, even as Gurithon and Galion tried to engage him in conversation. Would they be an elleth with Anthelísse's deep blue eyes and Oropher's flaxen hair? Or perhaps an ellon with Thranduil's pointed chin and Nellas's fey green eyes.

When they returned at last to the clearing in front of Thranduil and Anthelísse's tent they were surprised to find a number of elves hovering about the area. Some such as Maechenel approached and greeting Thranduil with smiles and words of congratulations. Every once in a while though there would come a muted gasp or groan from inside the tent and everyone would freeze. Once Aislinn emerged for a kettle of boiled water, and Thranduil fair near pounced upon her in his ravenous need for news. The handmaiden was noncommittal though, and finally Thranduil could bear it no longer.

"I will not wait outside and leave Anthelísse to fight this battle alone!" Thranduil cried, shaking off Gurithon's hand. Ignoring calls from the Captain of the Guard and his steward, the king barged into the tent.

Anthelísse was leaning against the side of the camp bed, her hands folded together on the blankets so tightly that the bones of her knuckles showed clearly. Aislinn was rubbing Anthelísse's back while Nellas knelt behind the laboring elf woman. Other elleths from Anthelísse's entourage hovered about, some crushing herbs and others soaking cloths. All heads turned abruptly when Thranduil entered, and he could have sworn he saw Anthelísse smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Well." Nellas said, turning back to her work. "If you refuse to wait then you may as well be useful, Thranduil." The dowager queen sounded thoroughly amused. "Go and tell your wife that she need not hold back any longer; this baby is fair ready to walk out on its own!"

Thranduil needed no further instruction. Hurrying around the bed, he knelt across it facing Anthelísse and took her hands in his. Her face was streaked with sweat and her lips were raw from being bitten, but otherwise she looked hale and calm. She even managed another smile in between deep, ragged breaths.

"Meleth-nin, it is time..." Thranduil whispered, nearly overcome with emotion. He and Anthelísse were squeezing each other's hands so tightly it was almost painful. A hard, determined light came into Anthelísse's eyes and she nodded.

Just as both Anthelísse and Nellas had predicted, the child was born so swiftly that Aislinn would often say for years afterwards that their help was unneeded. The infant, an ellon, let out a lively squeal the second he landed safe in Nellas's waiting hands. The sound brought tears to both Anthelísse's and Thranduil's eyes, and the two parents touched their foreheads together before turning to meet their son.

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