The soft, rhythmic sound of quick feet padding along the floors filled the still air as three Elves rushed along the winding corridors towards their destination. There was this sensation of dread that filled the King of the Woodland Realms chest, churning within him and threatening to boil it's way up his throat.
As they drew ever closer to that familiar room, the halls reflecting remnants of broken memories he had so desperately attempted to shut out, he could feel the nostalgia bubbling up within him. It was thick, like tar clinging stubbornly to his being. And no matter how hard he tried to ignore it or rid himself of it, it only continued to threaten to consume him whole.
The Elven King, Thranduil, had not set foot in that long forsaken room for 11 years, let alone enter the accursed wing in which it so quietly resided. It had been a far to painful reminder of the absence of his child to even consider it. With the ghostly apparitions of memories which darted through the halls playing tricks upon his mind.
Despite the overwhelming taste of dust forcing its way into his mouth, the familiar scent of those wondrous days spent holding the tiny bundle of his newborn child had filled his nostrils when he set foot within these untouched halls. He could still see the image of his tiny daughter staring up at him with those mesmerizing eyes of hers.
It had been the first moment he had looked into her bright eyes that he had been entranced with such a beautiful sight. An Elleth, so small and so young, one who had barely taken her first breathe, had stared up at him with such tranquil eyes and a serene smile on her lips. He swore that those orbs were formed from stars themselves.
It was on the day she entered this world, that he knew that the very stars above had their breathe stolen from them; when he gazed at her in those fleeting seconds he had realized the wisdom and potential she bore. Had witnessed a future so great and so mighty, one filled with many tragedies and a road that stretch long and far.
He had foreseen a destiny within those eyes, a fate that far surpassed his own. One which not even he could fathom, nor begin to try and imagine.
Those mystical eyes which should have belonged to that of the most privileged of Elves, made him wonder exactly what she could see with their magnificence.
The sight in which met the Elven King's sharp eyes was not a pleasant one in the slightest. Upon entering the room his sight was drawn to the tiny form of the Elleth which lay weakly beneath silk sheets. When Thranduil gazed a little closer at the child, he become suddenly aware of her terrible state.
The sound of her rapid, shallow breaths filled the room. Her small chest rising and falling in quick and infrequent movements, it was obvious that merely breathing was difficult for her. Her porcelain skin had lost all of the color it contained, a light sheen of sweat beading along her forehead and coating her body.
The child's eyes where glossy, rolling back into her head as she violently trembled, and he could sense some form of inner torment that was current transpiring within the child's mind. He was certain that something was very wrong, something curling in the pit of his stomach and running up the length of his spine.
His icy hues grew wide at the horrific scene playing out before him, his pale lips pursing tightly against one another. He was no fool, as wise as he was, he did not need to examine her much closer to realize that something far more sinister than an illness or injury was at play here.
Her lips were parted silently, and her face only proved to give away her extreme exhaustion. He had never seen a child look so drained, let alone an Elf. Even Eilianneth's elven blood had kept her surprisingly strong given her frailness, and so it was almost shocking to find this child in such agony.
Tauriel was somewhat surprised when the King of the Elves knelt at the child's side and began to examine her. She knew how wise Thranduil was, even knew that he was taught healing for many years, but the look upon his face was one that could only be described as horror.
He looked as if he had seen a ghost.
"Tauriel, Send for Galadriel and Elrond at once..." He murmured quietly, his face filled with steel as he stared at the convulsing child. He placed a hand upon her head, muttering a few silent incantations of which even Tauriel could feel the intense power of. After a few seconds, the child seemed to be in less distress.
The last thing Tauriel saw before rushing out of the room was black marks curling along the child's white skin, it was as if they were attempting to swallow the girl whole.
~ The gentle sound of wind whispering through the air filled her ears. It was low, humming ever so softly into her ear as many things flooded her vision. Ashes fluttered slowly throughout the air, barely standing out against the monochrome tones of the forest. The silence was eerie, almost unsettling, the lack of noise was unnatural.
Shadows danced along the corners of her visions, apparitions that had vague forms and yet stood like wispy tendrils of smoke, their figures drifting through the spaces between the colorless trees. She could hear the sound of her heart beating within her chest; every slow and methodical thump sending a vibration through her body as she raced forward.
And yet everything moved in slow motion.
The blurry edges of the forest around her made it difficult to make out the lining of the woods, and yet she continued running to some unseen destination for a reason she couldn't quite remember. No, she could only vaguely recall the voices which murmured her name breathily, could only begin to remember these oddly familiar woods.
Yet she could not place these memories.
She could taste the smoke filling her lungs, searing its way down her throat and all but suffocating her in the process. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes but she was not sure just why she felt the need to cry. It was just there.
"Amin mela lle, Iellig..." Came that ghostly, disembodied echo. It was a distorted sound, ethereal in nature and she couldn't tell where it was coming from. But the voice was somehow familiar to her, like she had heard it many times before.
"Pen..." Another word, it was whispered gently, and yet there was something in its broken rhythm that sang of the joys of childhood. She could see up ahead, a flickering, blurry image of a smiling child dashing away from a taller figure whose back was turned. That apparition of the child came running towards her, and yet all she could make out was dark hair.
"Tád..." She realized that the one who was speaking was the tall figure up ahead, wavering in the distance.
"Neled..." Just as she was about to see the figure with clarity, the image suddenly dispersed, the being's form dissipating, dissolving into mist.
A sudden searing pain filled her, it felt as though someone had set her body ablaze. Her head began to throb, and she could feel a sensation that one might describe as someone tearing into her mind. The pressure in her skull was so immense that she felt that her head just might explode at any given moment, in fact, she wasn't sure if her head was already on the verge of blowing up.
There was that ominous, evil eye again, piercing into her soul, gazing into her very consciousness.
At last, you have arrived.
The voice inside her head was deep, lined with some kind of darkness that seemed to seep within her very being, and yet it was so loud that it felt as though every word was an attempt at cracking her very skull open.
Laying dormant for centuries, you slept soundly.
And when at last you could sleep no longer and woke from your eternal slumber, you had been reborn in the far North. 
For 500 years you have eluded me.
But there is nowhere left for you to run.
She could hardly focus on what was being said, not with the intense agony that seemed intent on shredding her very existence. It was as though her very soul was being violently ripped from her body, her mind tearing and her thoughts scattering with such force.
I have waited 5 centuries for you...and now the Dawn of my return rests just beyond the horizon.
A sudden sharp pain shot through her spine, her heart skipped a beat, and she could feel the pressure in her chest as her eyes went wide. Her mouth fell open, a gasp of pain leaving her lips as she breathed raggedly. Clutching her chest, she attempted to steady herself despite the rapidly spinning world before her.
"Who...are you...?" She weakly choked out, feeling her strength rapidly depleting. Her eyes were beginning to feel heavy, and yet the pain just continued coursing through her.
You will know me soon enough...
Run, you must flee!
A/N: Bleeeh, I'm to lazy to edit this and stuff. But thank
for helping me edit this, I really appreciate her help
 I love you, my daughter.
 Mirkwood is in the far North East, more north than East.