Disclaimer: Drabble is mine. LotR is not.
Thranduil moved through the silent forest. The birds had not returned, nor had the squirrels. This section of Mirkwood was at its very darkest—the trees were black and charred.
He reached out to touch one damaged trunk, cringing as he did so. He could feel the tree’s throbbing, screaming pain against his fingertips.
And he could do nothing.
Suddenly, something at the foot of the tree caught his weary eyes. Confused, he bent and brushed aside a few pieces of burned bark, revealing what lay underneath.
There, shining amid the ruin like an emerald amid ashes, was a seedling.