Thranduil's Crown Novels & Stories

My gaze flickered to the side of the hall where the household staff usually gathered. She was nowhere to be found. I forced myself to focus as my mother picked up the crown. It was a heavy thing, crafted from dark iron and embedded with emeralds that matched my eyes. It wasn't delicate; it was a weapon in the form of jewelry. “Rowan Howard,” she whispered, her eyes meeting mine. “Do you swear to protect the weak, to punish the traitor, and to lead this pack into the light, even at the cost of your own life?”

Brynne asked. Kael looked directly at Selene. “The claim.” Her smile vanished. “What did you say?” Kael pulled a small object from inside his coat. A ring. Black steel with the crest of the Northern Dominion carved into its surface. Even the wind seemed to stop. “That ring marks the bloodline of the High King,” Maelor whispered. Kael nodded once. “It also binds the crown to the bearer.” Selene’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.” “I would.” Before anyone could react, Kael threw the ring onto the stone between us.

The flickering candlelight reflected off the polished metal, catching the object resting on the dark velvet cushion. My breath hitched. It was a silver crown, intricately forged to look like twisted roots and thorned branches. A half-transformed wolf was carved directly into the front of it. The King stepped toward me, lifting the crown from the tray with both hands. His eyes locked onto mine, hard and demanding. "May you wear this crown in duty to the lineage you carry, and to the protection of the throne." He raised the silver above my head. I felt like I was drowning. I looked up at Eilís one last time, just to catch a flick of anything. Any emotion. Any sign.

In the center, a small stone—moonstone, threaded with faint veins of darker silver—caught the lantern light. Alden stepped close. “This is not a crown you wear so others bow deeper,” he said, pitched for my ears alone. “It’s one you wear so they know where to look when they need someone to stand up for them.” My throat tightened. He lifted the diadem and settled it gently over my hair. For a heartbeat, the weight of it pressed down enough that my old instincts flared—collars, chains, and things locked around my neck without my consent. Then the crescent at my throat pulsed, a small, sure answer.

Aameris spoke almost in a whisper, but everyone in the room heard him. The three couples kissed, then turned to look at the crowd. Lindaat started to glow, and a crown appeared on her head. Twisted silver and bronze metals looking like a tree being held by silver roots. Around the crown, small diamonds rose, looking almost like trees. When she turned to look at Teleraamon, he had a circlet of the same silver and bronze on his head. Ailive gasped when a crown appeared on her head, with a solid silver band with sapphires around the edges that looked almost like tears. Dakkaath had a circlet of silver with a hint of bronze in it. Xylia smiled brightly at the two, then felt something on her head

A simple sword. No jewels. No decorations. No elaborate design. Just a blade. Silver. Ancient. Perfect. The weapon hovered above the ground. Silent. Waiting. Then every Crown immediately returned to its owner. One by one. The Third Crown. The Fourth Crown. The Sixth Crown. All intact. Everyone froze. Then Valen blinked. Then: "My Crown..." The Fourth Crown still burned within him. Then: "It didn't disappear." The old Guardian stared at the sword. Then: "Impossible."

"I'm listening?" "Well, you see... it's in the tradition. The throne shouldn't be vacant for more than a month and it's about three months now that no one has sat on the throne. So the elders and I have agreed that you'll be crowned King in two weeks time and also, your wedding will take place on the day of your coronation." "Wait...all these are too much for me."

“—will be for nothing.” Her heart ached at the truth of it. From behind, Isolde Mirean approached, her healer’s robes darkened with soot. She carried not herbs or poultices this time, but the circlet of her mother’s crown, retrieved from the ashes of the throne room. The silver glimmered faintly, a crescent moon etched into its center. “Serenya,” Isolde said softly, offering the crown. “This belongs to you. Always has.”

“What did you do to me?” “The Crown of Shadows is what Thalan is really seeking,” Queen Myela responds. “It is more than just a symbol of power; it’s part of an important legacy. The Crown of Shadows can only be gifted to a single shadow dragon; essentially, it gives you dominance over any shadow drake. The legend says you could control all the others with a thought or a well-spoken word.” “That’s more power than any dragon should have,” I shake my head, as if the crown now engraved into my flesh could simply fall off. “I don’t want it. I just want to find my way back to Primus and my children. This is more than I ever asked for.”

“I did, but the trolls decided to spice it up,‘’ I said. Silver throne is shaped like a wolf. I chose the design, and the trolls did as I said, but they made the wolf look vicious and not to talk about using pure gold to design it. The worst part is they decorated it with gemstones. Trolls are great at designing thrones and crowns. That is basically what they do and you can’t even imagine how expensive his throne is. Anybody who gets this throne is forever going to be rich, so that is why it’s enchanted. If anybody tries to steal it, I can only imagine what will happen to them. He got closer to mother and knee. I smiled as he started taking his oath. After taking his oath, he cut his palm in