Title: “Moriquendi – The Eryn Lasgalen Cycle”

Author: Fan81981

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the LOTR characters, which is a shame.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: As darkness gathers, and games of State turn vicious Legolas and Rhinure struggle to create something lasting out of a bond that was forced upon them. Will they succeed or will this new marriage fail, as it seems doomed to? Can strength of will triumph when it is unclear where strength should be exercised?

Hello all,

If you are joining straight from the end of “Moriquendi” then this little summary is not for you, though you might like to read it anyway. If not, please continue straight to the next chapter.

If you are new readers – and I hope there are some of you who are – then this is for you. Please read “Moriquendi” as well since this is really a sequel. But if you don’t feel like it (and I won’t blame you – too much – if you don’t) then please read the following summary and character list.

Thanks,

Fan81981

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

I suppose if I were to give the shortest possible summary of “Moriquendi” it would be as follows:

The War of the Ring has ended – but Mirkwood is not at peace. Attacks continue, at a surprisingly consistent and dangerous level. More and more elves succumb to the Sea-Longing, sailing for the West and leaving the Realm with insufficient numbers to protect its Borders. Coming out a War, the King knows that the only means for survival is an alliance with the only other fighting force in Mirkwood – the Avari.

The Avari have kept out of the War, and have the numbers he needs. But how to bind them to elves they view with mistrust? The answer – marry his son and Heir to their ruler, Rhinure.

In deference to the needs of their people, Rhinure and Legolas agree to marry and suffer from the usual problems that married couples face – the adjustment to a new life – along with some not so usual problems.

The Avari – Dark Elves, the Unwilling – view the Silvan Elves with suspicion and vice versa. To the Avari, the Eldar are elves who abandoned their Kin to the machinations of Melkor. They broke all vows and ties for the promise of a better life. The Eldar view the Avari as traitors, who refused the Summons of the Valar, and the commands of their liege lords.

The alliance is tenuous at best. For now, both fight a common enemy, determined not to let the Orcs claim more lives.  But the Avari are hiding a dark secret. They have reason to believe that the masterminds behinds these attacks are the Lost Ones – elves that the Avari believed to have been lost when Melkor was finally defeated. Though they have no proof, they have suspicions, suspicions they will not share with the King. For to them, these lost Avari are Kin, and Kin comes before anything.

They will not fight the Lost Ones, given a choice. But will they be given a choice? Thranduil is no fool, he is gathering his own intelligence and coming to his own conclusions. The Avari are right in one thing, he is dangerous and he will not view this Avari reticence with approval.

But the Avari too have honour, and ancient debt cannot be forgotten. For the Lost Ones are not only Kin, they are Saviours. They are the only reason why the Clan is alive today, and did not fall into Shadow. With such a blood debt, the Avari are trying their hardest to prevent a confrontation. For they know, when it comes down to it, they would rather dispose of Rhinure and the alliance than forget where and who they came from.

In all these games of state, two elves – one couple – struggle to create something lasting out of a bond that was forced upon them. Will they succeed or will this new marriage fail, as it seems doomed to?

All that can be said is that it is best not to underestimate your enemy – but it should be remembered that Fate tears lives asunder and brings them together for a reason. Let us pray that Fate knew what she was doing when she brought Legolas and Rhinure together.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Following is a list of the more important characters. If other characters crop up which the reader should know about I will put it in the end of each chapter. That is – if anyone new is reading this. Is there?

Eryn Lasgalen (Mirkwood):

Thranduil – King of the Wood-elves. Legolas’ father (general nice-guy and not an elf to mess with)

In case any of you missed this the first time – Thranduil is a nice (okay – wonderful) person. This is not going to be an Evil!Thranduil fic.

Legolas – Prince of the Wood-elves, born in Third Age 147. Heir to the throne of Eryn Lasgalen. Member of the Fellowship (I’m sure all of you knew that but I had to put it in). Husband to the Avari Sacrifice, Rhinure.

A new husband, he is slightly clueless when it comes to his new wife. A very nice guy but don’t let that gorgeous smile fool you – he is not someone to take lightly. He gets this from his father btw. His mother, on the other hand:

Eruante – Wife to Thranduil, was a wonderful, gentle she-elf. She sailed to the West in the Third Age 1549.

Herenion – Bodyguard to the Heir (that’s Legolas, by the way). He originally served Oropher as Thranduil’s bodyguard. When Legolas was born, Thranduil made Herenion’s title official. He is unmarried at the moment and likes it that way. He has seen both Thranduil and Legolas flounder too much to like the idea of marriage.

Generally come across as a jolly elf (if Santa was to take any elf from Arda it would be this one) and always has a word of advice for his surrogate sons – too many if you ask them. He is one of the few elves in Mirkwood who is completely unafraid of Thranduil, much to the King’s disgust (who has been lectured on enough occasions to know that it is not a good idea to get on Herenion’s bad side).

Maenon ­– Ostensibly a Captain of Mirkwood’s Border Patrol (the offensive arm of Mirkwood’s forces). He is probably the oldest elf in the Realm and undoubtedly the wiliest. Among other things, he is one of Thranduil’s best spies. No one, not even Legolas, is exactly certain what Maenon does for the King.

Faelon – Lieutenant of the Prince’s Company. Legolas commands the Border Patrol and in his absence Faelon commands the Prince’s Company – Mirkwood’s best fighters. A surprising choice for someone so young, but then Faelon is devoted to his King and Prince – sometimes recklessly so. His sense of humour and obvious enthusiasm make him a popular commander.

Arandur – Captain of Mirkwood’s Home Guard – the defensive forces. The King’s own Bodyguard, he is an Avari. He is brother to the Avari Heir, Cothion. He joined King Thranduil’s service in the Third Age 1553 after having sworn an oath to serve the King for the duration of his life. A taciturn elf by Eldar standards, all we know about his personal life is that he had a beloved who he had to leave when he took up service in Mirkwood. What happened to her, whether she is still alive, or whether she married someone else is unknown. What we do know is that Arandur is not happy with his brother for sending him to serve the King of the Woodland Realm.

I think that is most of the Eldar. Other minor characters in Mirkwood who one should know about for the next few chapters at least:

Galárin – an old friend of Legolas. Head chef in the Palace. He is married to Malyian and has recently had a baby daughter.

I think that’s about it. Now we turn to the Avari. All of the Avari are OCs so now is the time to pay attention.

The Avari (Capital City – Tirnen)

The Avari – also called the Unwilling – are the only elves to have refused the Valar’s summons. They were originally part of the Eldar, i.e. they were Telari, Noldor and possibly even Vanyar in the beginning. They became Avari out of choice, however they grouped themselves into thirteen clans. It is uncertain on what basis this division was done but age and wisdom certainly played a part in it. Therefore, the oldest Avari formed Clans together.

After the Great Journey, the Avari remained in their small Clan units and slowly came together to form one race, with thirteen sub-sets. Since they were near Cuiviénen, Melkor’s minion, the Orcs and especially Sauron knew where to find them. Sauron first captured them and 6 of their Clans were tortured and corrupted into Orcs - the Avari call them the Fallen. Sauron had learnt the lessons from his Master well. However, the oldest three and the youngest four managed to escape and remain relatively together. They moved and hid far in the East, away from their traitorous Kin and Men.

But this freedom was short lived. When Melkor returned to ME in the First Age, he re-captured the Avari. He was fond of his toys after all, and if Manwe had his elves why should he not have his own? Anyway, it was about this time that the oldest four clans decided that they could not let their young fall prey to this Valar. They helped the youngest three escape but their own fate is unknown.

The three youngest were refugees for a long time, right up to the start of the Third Age when Thranduil gave them permission to settle in Mirkwood. These Three – now simply called the Clan – are Rhinure’s people.

After the end of the War of the Ring, the Avari heard started hearing news about those four clans – the Lost Ones – and it is not good. Orc attacks, surprisingly well planned considering that the Nazgul no longer ride, still plague Mirkwood. There is evidence that the Lost Ones are behind this new plot.

Even though, Thranduil does not know this, he knows that something is afoot. Which is why he has formally allied himself with the Avari (Rhinure’s Clan) by marrying his son to their Sacrifice. As more Wood-elves sail to the West, Mirkwood’s numbers are not enough to protect the Realm alone. Since Thranduil will not abandon his home he has turned to help. But the question still remains; can the Avari be trusted?

The main Avari players are:

Rhinure – Legolas’ wife, the reluctant heroine of our tale, she is also the Avari Sacrifice (their title for their Leader). It is not a hereditary position but one that is willingly entered into. Considering that the Avari treat the title in an almost literal sense, Rhinure’s decision to put on this mantle does not speak well of her state of mind.

Her mother Sarniel was Sacrifice before her. She died in the Third Age 1553, four years after her husband, Barion, leaving Rhinure an orphan. However it did not matter much since her uncle, Morion, had brought up Rhinure. He too, died recently, defending Legolas’ life.

Rhinure, like her people, is distrustful of emotions. The Avari believe emotions to be treacherous and something to be avoided, especially in public life. However, they do acknowledge that one cannot avoid them all the time, but they should only be indulged in private. It is probably the only vice the Avari indulge in. If it comes right down to it, they are fiercely protective of their feelings. It is a matter of perverse pride that they have the freedom to feel what they want, just not when they want.

As long as they do their duty, they can feel whatever they wish. That great freedom is balanced by the constraint duty places on them. Everything that the Avari do is dictated by duty. No wonder that they guard their only freedom so closely.

The Avari have four oaths – Duty, Obedience, for Life, and beyond Death. All Avari swears the first oath, duty, when they come of age. The oath to obey, the Second, is sworn by many.  However, only a rare few swear the Third – to obey and do one’s duty for one’s entire Life.

The Fourth vow – to do all of this beyond Death is the strongest vow that the Avari can swear. It is the only vow with does not finish when one dies. And therefore, it is only sworn between a married couple. Only a husband and a wife hold each other’s Four vows.

Such a vow Rhinure had sworn to Legolas – therefore, nothing is more important to her than he is. It is unfortunate that practise does not often bear out this theory.

When an Avari swear on of the Four, he puts on a ring connected by a chain to a bracelet to symbolise that vow. Therefore, an Avari who has sworn only one vow will have one ring on his thumb. Such a device is called a karha.

The marriage karha has four rings – one for each finger except for the third, which is left bare. 

Aside from marriage vows – the Three vows are the strongest. The Avari who have sworn as much are few. Rhinure is one. The others are:

Ehtewen – the First Guard. She is Rhinure’s bodyguard and one tough she-elf. She scares practically everyone, even Rhinure a little if Rhinure was truthful about it. However, Rhinure loves her like a mother, even though Ehtewen will never admit to any such reciprocal feelings. She was Sarniel’s bodyguard too.

Cothion – Commander of the Avari forces, he is Rhinure’s Heir. He is older than Rhinure and would have become Sacrifice when Sarniel died, had not Rhinure defeated him in a trial of arms. Secretly, he is glad that he is not Sacrifice, for their life span is very short for an elf. They have a habit of dying too soon.

He is Arandur’s brother, as happily married as possible for an Avari. His son, Erutunín is expecting his first child by Aladriel.

Túrgwaith – First Advisor. He is one of the oldest Avari and one of the most dangerous. Sacrifices come and go but the First Advisor endures. He was one of the few elves, who were alive in the time of Captivity. He has survived Melkor, captivity, torture and exile. Only one thing in life is important to him – the Avari’s survival. There is not much he would not do to ensure that. For that he is loved – and feared – like no other.

Istion – the Second Guard, Rhinure’s other bodyguard. He has only recently come into this position, after Morion’s death. It was not compulsory for him to swear the Three, as it is for the elves above, but he did so anyway. Another orphan, he is fanatically devoted to Rhinure. Of all the elves above, who comprise the Avari council, he is the only one who is completely and wholly on Rhinure’s side. The others would not hesitate to do away with her if they thought it best for the Clan. He, on the other hand, will not suffer any harm to befall Rhinure.

I think that’s about it. Now you may go on to the next chapter.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 1 – Games of State

Maenon accepted the glass of wine from his King. He was not particularly comfortable with the familiarity or with the idea that his King was serving him, but neither was he about to tell Thranduil to stop. Thranduil had a peculiar way of looking at him, which made even Maenon fall silent.

Maenon was old – old by even Elven standards – and he recognised power when he saw it. Power that could not be resisted, power that nurtured when accepted and destroyed when opposed. For a moment, Maenon almost felt sorry for the little Princess. It was a brief moment, but Maenon had seen through the long years what happened to those who opposed his King. It was not pleasant, and it would be such a waste. The girl had potential – she would make a good Queen – and wife. Already she brought such passion into the Prince’s life. To lose that now – yes, waste it would be.

Maenon took a small sip of his wine, his face hardening into its usual ironic smile. If the Princess thought that the Wood-elves were easy targets, then she was a fool. If she thought that she could betray them with impunity, then it was best that Thranduil deal with her. Maenon was certain that whatever he did would be well deserved.

The moment had passed.

*~ I wish you luck in whatever you plot, little Princess, for it will not be enough. ~*

 “What do you smile about, Captain?”

“Nothing in particular, my Lord. I was thinking about the Princess.”

“What were you thinking about her in general? I would be greatly interested in learning what thoughts bring that exacting smile on your face.”

“I was thinking how well you had handled her, my Lord. Giving her the illusion of independence when in truth she has none.”

Thranduil raised a sardonic eyebrow as he looked at his Captain, spymaster and many things more. “And how do you know that she needs ‘handling’?”

“Would you have me spying on her if she did not?”

“Perhaps I would. Perhaps I would have you watch her just for the sheer spite of it.”

“I doubt that, my King. If you watch her, then she needs watching.”

“Such confidence in me, Maenon. I would not have thought you capable of such blindness.”

“It is not blindness, my Lord. It is an instinct born of experience. I have not seen any of King Oropher’s scions do anything for spite and doubt that I ever will.”

“And you do not think it is spite to spy on one’s own daughter?”

“Not if the daughter is hiding something. And the Princess is, is she not?”

“Yes.” Thranduil’s face hardened. “And I would know what it is.”

“As my Lord commands. It shall be done.” Maenon tossed back the rest of the wine in his glass and rose from his seat, only to freeze when Thranduil called his name.

“You will be careful.” It was not an expression of concern but one of command. “I know you think her to be young but do not sell her short. She might not have your experience but she has others around her who do. Alone she is dangerous, together they are formidable.”

“You speak of the elf who rode with her today.”

“Yes.”

“The one they call Cothion.”

“I do not want him alone with Legolas.”

“Should you not be telling Herenion this, my Lord?”

“Herenion already knows. He does not need to be told. But I do not want Legolas to know that I am keeping this Cothion away from him.”

Maenon nodded.

Thranduil paused, wondering whether to continue or not. But in the end his less noble impulses won out. “Encourage it that Lady Rhinure and her Heir are left alone as much as possible. Engineer it if you have too. I do not have to tell you that I should be told of whatever they say.”

“Of course not, my King.”

“And Maenon,” Thranduil paused to make sure that the older Elf was giving him his undivided attention. “If Legolas finds out about this, it will not be well for you.”

“I understand, my Lord. But I do hope you appreciate that it might be difficult to separate the Prince from the Princess without the Prince’s cooperation.”

“I appreciate the difficulty, but trust that you will be creative in finding the solution.”

“Always.”

    x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Thranduil twirled the wineglass; not really watching the way the light from the fire hit the red liquid. Lost in his thoughts, replaying the report Maenon had just made, going over each and every line again and then just once more, Thranduil absentmindedly noted the way the red colour stained his hand.

*~ Almost like blood. ~*

Thranduil watched with a morbid fascination as a tilt of the glass painted his entire palm red. In his long and often violent life, it had become a familiar sight – his hand covered in blood – blood of his enemies, willingly spilt for the protection of his people, blood of his friends, bitterly surrendered for the good of his people, blood of his own, readily offered for his Realm, blood of his son, given despite all his struggles. So much and in the end, never enough.

How much more would be spilt before the elves would finally have peace? How much of it would be Avari blood?

Now that Thranduil was alone, he allowed himself the luxury of worrying about his new daughter. Despite all the mistrust and secrecy that still existed between them, Thranduil had genuinely become fond of Rhinure. He was too much his father’s son not to feel regret for what he was about to do. Oropher would not have approved of his decision to spy on her. He would not have condoned these lies or let these games of state continue.

No, he would have been courageous and confronted Rhinure. He was have been honest and accepted the consequences, whatever they might have been. He would have had the strength to do what was right instead of what was expedient.

But Thranduil was not Oropher. He lacked the courage and the conviction of his father. Where his father would have blazed through the situation, burning a clear path for his people by the sheer force of his will, Thranduil waited and manipulated. He was not Oropher, who picked up everything and started anew because he would not submit to something he believed was wrong.

Many had thought Oropher lacking in subtlety and the ability to wield power with any finesse. But Thranduil thought his father had always had a greater power – the power to change those around him without giving up what was important. How Thranduil wished he had that skill. Then he would be able to change Rhinure instead of having to force her into the position he needed.

Oropher would be disappointed in his son today. Setting Maenon after Rhinure, as if she was a piece of choice meat to be hunted. Having her watched so that she could be exploited in a moment of weakness. All so that Thranduil would have what he wanted, that elusive piece of information she seemed so determined to hide from him.

*~ I wish you were here, Adar. You won a Kingdom for us. I wish you were here to save it now. ~*

Thranduil set the glass down on the table beside him. He hated what he had to do, but he would see it through. What he did, he did for the good of the Realm, and given no choice he would use ever trick, every ounce of will he had learned in these long years of war to make sure his plans succeeded. The time of the elves was ending, and Thranduil would make sure that it would be a good end for his people.

But still, he did not have to like what he did. He would at least keep faith with those principles of honesty and decency that his father had taught him and deplore what necessity made him do.

Games of state made him scheme, but they could not rob him of his aversion for such games.

*~ I hope that is enough for you, my King – my father. ~*

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

From his post in the shadows, Arandur watched Maenon leave Thranduil’s rooms. The older elf paused near Arandur and almost sniffed the air like the hound he was – Thranduil’s hound – loosed on the King’s commands to wreck havoc on his enemies. Arandur had seen what the older elf could do, and it was not a pleasant memory. The Wood-elves had survived not only through strength of arms and courage but also through trickery and conspiracy. Maenon was that mysterious face of the elves, that arm of Thranduil that the King wielded but did not admit to.

And now that hound had been loosed again – Arandur could tell as much from the way Maenon walked. There was a freedom in the Captain’s stride, a relish that came from doing what one was best at. The hound hunted this day and his prey was Avari.

Arandur was no spymaster, familiar in the games of intrigue and espionage, but neither was he a fool, too blind to see what was in front of his eyes. Thranduil plotted; as his bodyguard Arandur had seen that look in his King’s eyes before. It was accompanied by a stillness that stirred every instinct of danger that Arandur possessed. It was the stillness of the great hunting cat before it brought down its victim.

He had been too distracted by the sight of his brother to have recognised that look, but now, in retrospect, Arandur knew it. Thranduil was planning something, and the targets were his people. Or at the very least, his Mistress.

Maenon’s absence from the normal patrols, the time spent alone with Thranduil, his very walk now – all were sure signs that he had been given a task. Thranduil’s insistence that Arandur not be present for Maenon’s report had confirmed the Captain’s suspicion that it had something to do with the Avari.

Thranduil watched the Avari, Arandur was certain of it and he was certain Mistress Rhinure was as well. But to send Maenon after her, if indeed that was what Thranduil had done, was an escalation in the security surrounding her. It was a sign that Thranduil had upped the stakes in this game they played. And he played the game to win, if his confidence was any indication. In not hiding his conference with Maenon from his Captain, Thranduil had thrown down the gauntlet.

Arandur wondered if Mistress was aware of these developments. She had seemed distracted by the Prince today, perhaps she had not noticed that others had been less sincere in their enthusiasm about her return.

 If she was not, then should she be told?

As Arandur watched Maenon walk away, seemingly unaware of the Avari’s presence, that question revolved round and round in his head.

Should he tell her of what he had seen?

Arandur knew how the conversation would play out. Mistress would note his concerns but she would ask him if he knew anything more concrete than a subject leaving his King’s chambers. Arandur would be forced to answer that he did not have any proof, and Mistress would reasonably ask why she should be concerned.

And in the end, the only answer Arandur would be able to make was that this entire incident just felt wrong. It felt important, like a harbinger of change.

Arandur smiled wryly, he could hear Mistress reaction clearly – with all its admonishing intonations. Feelings are not proof, they are not concrete, they are not something to base ones actions on.

Mistress would be obliged to remind him of that, leaving him disgraced in her sight. In Cothion’s sight as well.

*~ Cothion. ~*

The Heir would be less benign in his caution. He would not only note Arandur’s warning but also see it as evidence of how much his brother had changed in the King’s service. How little like an Avari he remained.

At the end of it, Arandur would be asked to provide more concrete evidence. He would be asked to keep an eye on the King and find out what his intentions towards the Avari were. He would be asked to spy on his King, asked to redeem the vows he had sworn to the Avari in betrayal of the vows he had sworn to Thranduil.

He would be asked, and he would be forced to refuse. The weight of those Three Rings outweighed all others, and so he would have to answer – proving to his brother, that he was no Avari, for an Avari would have found a way to do his duty to the Clan.

Not only would Arandur be disgraced, he would be so without any hope of redemption.

Arandur had so ruthlessly suppressed his feelings, that it came as a bit of a shock how much he had been longing to make Cothion proud. Through these long, lonely years the idea had sustained him that one day Cothion would turn to him, clasp him on the shoulder and say,

“Chotay, mujhe tum par naz he.”                       (Little brother, I take pride in you).

So insidious that yearning for that little phrase, for Arandur knew that if he gave what Cothion wanted, he would hear those words. All he had to do was deceive his King. It would not be hard, all Arandur would be doing was repeating whatever he heard or saw.

Would that be so different from going to Mistress in the first place? Would that be so dissimilar to warning his people? He was Avari and in the end, would always remain so. If he used his position as Captain of the Home Guard to help his people, was that not what Cothion had intended him to do in the first place?

Arandur gripped his Blade until his knuckles turned white.

*~ Brother, I cannot do this. ~*

‘Do not let emotions lead your actions for they will only lead to ruin.’ So the Avari correctly taught.

No matter what Arandur felt, the craving of an exile for his family, he would not be swayed from his duty.

But in ignoring what he felt, he also had no reason to speak to Mistress or Cothion. And he was back where he started – standing guard outside the Elven King’s room – alone.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Though Anor still shone in the sky, there were shadows aplenty for elves to watch unnoticed from. As Arandur watched Maenon walking away, Cothion watched his younger brother.

When the Prince had led Mistress Rhinure away, Cothion had made sure that the rest of the Avari were properly housed. He had noted the quarters given to the Princess’ Company, and their close proximity to the Prince’s Company’s. He had also been intrigued at the solicitude that the Silvan Lieutenant, Faelon, had shown Agorion – insisting on helping the Avari put up his tack and brush his horse.

Cothion would have almost believed that concern to be genuine if he had not seen Faelon look over the tack a little too carefully. The young elf looked for evidence, that much was obvious. What was not so obvious was whether the friendly seeming jibes thrown at Agorion were sincere or not. Faelon seemed to like the Avari, but might not that be as much of an act as well?

Still, the two together had brought a smile on Cothion’s face – though he made sure no one else saw it. Youth had a way of getting under one’s defences. As he watched the two elves disappear somewhere, Faelon almost dragging his reticent Avari counterpart, Cothion was struck anew by that fact.

Left to his own devices, Cothion had wondered what to do. Mistress would be occupied for sometime to come, for the Prince’s demeanour did not indicate that he was about to let his wife go anytime soon. Fair enough, Cothion supposed, but did he have to be so obvious about it all?

With Mistress engaged, Cothion would have to wait to be formally introduced to the formidable looking King. He had had only a glimpse of him before being distracted by his son, but it had been enough for him to be wary of the King. He did not know what Mistress Rhinure thought of him, or even if she did – she was a little too­ engrossed in the Prince for Cothion to be certain that she was observing her surroundings clearly. He would have to ask, for in the brief glimpse, as their eyes locked over the distance, Cothion saw a feral intelligence that took his breath away.

What an Avari this elf would have made! What potential he still had, despite that the fact that he was a little too obvious in some things. Cothion could read the distrust clearly when Thranduil looked at him. The King did not welcome his presence in the Realm and he was not subtle about it. Perhaps, he did not have to be. With such power, power that had held the Enemy at bay for over three thousand years, subtlety would become unnecessary. With such strength, perhaps the King could afford weakness. For weakness Cothion saw, and it was his son – Legolas.

Something about this elf brought down even the mighty. Cothion did not understand why it should be so, but he recognised danger when he saw it. And this Prince was dangerous though Mistress did not see it. She was like a moth to Legolas’ flame – and fire he was, pure and destructive.

And he was the only hope that the Avari had left. For when Thranduil looked at his son and his face softened with love and devotion, Cothion knew that the Avari had made the correct decision. The only way to bind the King was through his son.

But could the son be controlled? Could Mistress bind him to her without losing herself? In this week, Cothion had to answer whether Legolas would be a candle, lighting this dark time or a forest blaze, destroying all in front of it.

But this fire might be directed for Avari use yet. Cothion believed so, with good reason. For as unsettled as Rhinure was, she affected Legolas as well. At least, Mistress had that to her credit. Her husband was fascinated by her, and highly possessive of her. Cothion had noted with great interest, the conversation between Thranduil and Legolas. He had noted the hand on Mistress, the arm gathering her close, the tension in his body when Mistress caressed him. If the tie between them was tighter than Cothion would have liked, it still ensnared both. Better that then no connection at all.

So many variations, so many possibilities that could still change the entire game. Just thinking about it made Cothion’s head spin. He did not envy Mistress and even after such a short time in the Woodland Realm, he could once again feel some sympathy for her. One thing was clear, Mistress’ position was not to be envied. At least, this journey had given him back that comfort, a private one though it was. Now it remained to be seen whether this trip would give anything else back or not?

Anything like his brother?

Though Cothion told himself that he was just taking a walk, familiarizing himself with Mistress Rhinure’s new home, now that he had found Arandur he could not find the strength to walk away. Cothion knew that his baby brother would not be happy to see him, if anything he would be displeased. When Cothion had sent him to Thranduil, he had done so with the full knowledge that he was destroying the life Arandur had built for himself.

But what choice did he have? Barion’s death had ripped through the Clan, leaving the Avari bitter and even more mistrustful of the Wood-elves. Many had openly questioned the wisdom of maintaining ties with such elves. When the Sacrifice, Sarniel, had slowly and with agonizing nakedness succumbed to her grief, the Clan floundered rudderless.

Cothion found himself put in a position he had been trained for but never wanted to fill. Till the Trial, he was responsible for the Avari. It would not be long before Rhinure would take that burden away from him, but even that short time was enough to show him that he never wanted to be Sacrifice. Which was most unfortunate since he was next in line, should anything happen to Rhinure. And here he was trying to ascertain if something should happen to her or not?

Sometimes, Cothion wondered about his own sanity.

And more often, he wondered if given his life to live again, he would make the same mistakes over again?

Looking at his brother, going over those familiar features that he had not seen in almost 1500 years, he wondered whether given another chance at life he would have the courage to make those painful but needed decisions again.

Arandur had been, and still was, the only elf that Cothion had trusted unconditionally. He also knew that his brother would do what he asked, without having to be asked, since that trust was reciprocal – or once had been. Cothion knew that he did not have to speak the words to make Arandur obey, and he had used that fact ruthlessly. No Avari would have given over their lives to duty – obedience did not have such a claim. The Two oaths could not be used to force the Third. And the Third had been necessary to serve Thranduil. The King demanded nothing but complete service, nothing less than the life of the Avari who served him.

Barion had sworn that oath, because Sarniel has asked it of him. That sort of devotion, which transcended the wisdom of convention, was not often found. Sacrifices had it, but with Barion’s death, Cothion despaired of finding it in time. Plus, that devotion must be combined with a rationality that such madness often precluded. Cothion had been sure that he would never find anyone suitable and Thranduil would ask the Avari to leave. That is, until he looked at his brother and realised that Arandur was perfect – he would do anything for his brother and he was sensible enough to hate the fact that his brother used him. That hate would protect him, keep him safe and whole. Keep him from feeling his exile or at least, feeling it too much.

And so it had been Arandur who had left for the Woodland Realm to replace Barion – and Cothion had never seen him again.

Until today.

Arandur had not changed much, his face was unlined and blank, his back was as straight as ever. Except now it was not pride that kept it erect, but steel placed by experience. No, his little brother had not changed much, except that today he was Avari.

As Cothion stepped out of the shadows to face Arandur and found that very same steel in those unforgiving black eyes, he realised that his brother was more Avari than Cothion could have hoped for.

*~ I cannot do this. I am not ready ~*

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Even for elves, who watched cities rise brick by little brick only to fall again, who watched great mountains fall and whither into dust, there was some comfort in knowing that some things never changed. Or at the very least, never changed for them. For Arandur, that thing had always been his brother – that unchanging, unforgiving constant in his life, which, by its presence alone, brought security and normalcy with it.

Therefore, it was surprising for the Avari Captain that he did not sense Cothion’s presence immediately. One tended to notice when something large, so unmoving loomed, so why did he not know that his brother stood so near? Something that dangerous should have alerted his senses.

Or perhaps it was that even after such a betrayal and long separation, Cothion still knew how to fool him?

Cothion was Commander and Avari. If he wanted to remain hidden and unnoticed, then Arandur supposed that he would. Still, the Captain did not have to like the ease with which his brother managed to sneak up behind him.

“Are you going to speak to me, chotay? Or will I have to wait even longer?”            (Little one)

Arandur restrained himself from shuddering at that endearment. It had been so long, almost an entire Age, that he had heard that word and from Cothion’s lips no less. When he had left Tirnen for the Woodland Realm, he had resigned himself to the fact that he would not hear the sweet rhythms of his language spoken by his people. Rhinure’s arrival had eased some of that ache, but still, it was not the same.

And now Cothion was here, speaking to him as if nothing had changed, calling him by names he no longer had the right to use. Names which brought up a childish petulance that Arandur had thought he had put aside.

*~ It was not fair. ~*

When Arandur was more rational he knew he would be amused by his thoughts, but now anger simmered in his veins, heating him and giving him the courage to reply instead of breaking down in front of his Commander. “What would you have me say, my Lord?”

Cothion raised an eyebrow but did not comment on Arandur’s use of the title. It seemed as if his brother had not forgiven him. But then, it was as he had expected. He had told Rhinure as much but this time he took no pleasure in being correct. “Have you no words of welcome for your brother?”

There, he had said it. He had insinuated a relationship with the younger elf, coming as close as he dared to begging. If Arandur so chose, the rift between them would be sealed. All he had to do was acknowledge him as family.

And Arandur knew it.

“I have no brother, Commander. You, of all people, should know that.”

“You have not come to accept what I did, have you?”

“Accept perhaps. But not forgiven.”

“I will not ask for forgiveness.”

“I did not expect that you would,” Arandur said a little sadly.

“Then?”

“Then, the question remains – what would you have me say, my Lord?”

There was really nothing more to be said, but Cothion did not want to leave just yet. “Will you introduce me to the King?”

“It is not my place to do so, my Lord. You will have to wait for Mistress to do that. After all, you are her Heir.”

 *~ And the reason why I am here. ~*

Both heard that unspoken thought as clearly as if Arandur had yelled it out. But Cothion could not change what he had done, even if he wanted to – which was something he would have to debate with himself later.

Arandur remained silent, hoping against all sense, that Cothion would remain just a little longer. He almost wished that he had offered to take him to the King. Thranduil would have understood if he had brought the Avari Commander to meet him. He might even appreciate it – Arandur had not been that shaken that he did not notice the King’s interest in his brother.

“One last thing, Captain. Who was the elf who just left the King’s chambers?”

It was fortunate that Arandur had not spoken further, or offered to take Cothion to the King. The older elf’s tone was a little too speculative for the Captain’s liking. It seemed as if the Commander had finally decided to put aside the pleasantries since they were getting him nowhere. This was the elf Arandur knew so well, the gleam in his eyes as he looked in the direction Maenon had gone, was so familiar that his chest tightened painfully and made him wary all at the same time.

“What would you do with his name?”

Cothion turned back to his brother. “The fact that you do not answer makes me think that he is someone important.”

“He is important in that he is one of Mirkwood’s Captains. No more, no less,” Arandur answered a little hastily.

Cothion crossed his arms. “His name?”

Arandur had grown up hearing that tone of command and obedience was too ingrained in him to disobey Cothion now. Before he knew it, he heard himself say, “Maenon.”

Cothion titled his head in thanks. So this was Maenon – Cothion had heard of the elf from Agorion. Nothing definite, more rumours than anything else – but all spoke of the secrecy surrounding the old elf. No one really knew what this elf did but all said that he did something for the king. Something beyond his normal duties as Captain of one of the patrols. Cothion had dealt with spymasters for too long not to recognise the nebulous cover of one. This Maenon was a spy, Cothion would wager his life and honour on that.

Which would lead to the next question – what did Thranduil want with him at this point in time?

“Why did the King want to see him?” Arandur immediately stiffened and Cothion realised that he probably should not have asked his brother such a question. Arandur might have been his brother – once – but he was also Thranduil’s Captain. Cothion glanced down at the three rings on Arandur’s karha – he should have remembered.

“That is the King’s business. What he does with one of his subjects is none of your concern, Commander,” Arandur said coldly.

Cothion bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the merit in the remark as well as the caution that he would get nothing from Arandur. Would he tell Mistress Rhinure what he knew about Thranduil’s plans? Maybe. He still owed Mistress allegiance even if there was no such bond between the two elves.

 As he walked away, leaving Arandur at his post, he wondered if Thranduil knew of Arandur’s dilemma and whether in some way this entire situation was a test? The King could have met his spymaster at a more opportune time, when the Captain was not around. It would not have put the Avari in such a compromising position. For if Thranduil was plotting something against the Clan, and Cothion would not put it past him, then duty obligated Arandur to inform Mistress. However, duty also forced him to be true to his King.

It was not an enviable position and one that could have been easily avoided. Cothion knew instinctively that Thranduil was too intelligent not to have accounted for Arandur’s presence outside his door. Which only meant that the King not only tested the Avari he also tested his Captain? Would he uphold his oaths? And which oaths would those be? Avari or Eldar?

Cothion was not certain which Arandur would choose. He was not even sure if he knew which he wanted Arandur to choose. He knew he was more proud of his brother when he had refused to answer than ever before. Even more than when he first chose to come to serve the King. Even more than when he had first taken up a Blade and proved that he was Avari.

But Cothion also knew that when it came down to it, the Clan came before everything else. Would Arandur realise that in time?

Either way, Cothion knew that he had to warn Mistress. This King was dangerous.

Cothion walked on, wondering if this trip would prove to be worth the trouble it was already turning out to be.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

When Legolas regained awareness, he found that Anor was starting to set and soon it would be time for the feast. Legolas buried his face in his pillow; he was not looking forward to this. It was not that he did not find such gatherings amusing, after a fashion – watching the gaiety, sometimes forced, sometime beautifully genuine, had its own entertainment value, and Legolas had the ability to relax even in such circumstances and enjoy the evening with grace and dignity. It helped that he enjoyed dancing and, like his father, had a fine eye for the ladies. It was expected that the Prince paid court to the ellyth at these functions; in fact, the ellyth would be most put out if he did not.

But now, it was different. Legolas had no interest in making small talk or playing charming host to a host of giggling ellyth. He had doubts whether he would be able to wring any enjoyment out of this evening, if only because all he wanted was a quiet dinner with his wife, to hold her close in his arms and then make love to her through the night. How he wanted that! Even now, remembering their reunion, Legolas felt a familiar ache rise in him. Perhaps it was due to their long separation – a whole month, a prodigious amount indeed for newlyweds – or perhaps it was the uninhibited pleasure Rhinure took from his touch, or perhaps it was the delight Legolas took from making her lose control.

She was magnificent as she writhed under him, hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him to her, demanding what he so willingly gave. The softness of her mouth against his, the silken touch of her skin next to his, the delicate caress of her hair clinging to him. Yes, she was magnificent.

And he wanted her – now, while they had time, just once more before they had to rejoin the rest of the world.

Face still resting on his pillow Legolas put out his arm to draw Rhinure to him, only to find that the bed next to him was empty. Alarmed, Legolas raised himself onto his forearms to look at where Rhinure should have been, but was not.

*~ Please, Rhinure, not again. ~*

The sheets were cold, indicating that Rhinure had been away from the bed for some time. Legolas knew that he had could not have been asleep for long, which meant that she had not slept at all. She must have waited for him to fall asleep before leaving.

Legolas felt his chest contract. She had left him again, despite all that she had promised, despite all that they had just shared. It seemed as if nothing had really changed between them. All Legolas’ hopes had just been that – hopes and not reality.

Rhinure whirled around when she heard a low cry from the bed. The sound scraped her sensitive hearing, all elves no matter who they were recognised pain when they heard it and Rhinure had grown up with pain around her. She knew that sound like the beating of her heart. Legolas was in pain.

“Are you well, my Lord?”

Legolas stiffened at the low, obviously concerned question. He did not have to turn around to know that Rhinure stood at the balcony. She had probably been there all along. Relief mixed with the anger still coursing through him, leaving him wanting to shout at her and haul her back to bed – preferably at the same time. Both reactions were unacceptable and he knew it. He would never allow himself to behave so crassly, so uncaring of her station and his. Until he found a more satisfactory method of dealing with her, one that preserved his dignity but still managed to convey his disappointment – only disappointment, nothing more – he would take the safest alternative. He would wait and do nothing.

Rhinure grew concerned at Legolas’ silence. This was not like him at all. He was generally such a gracious and voluble person – no matter how unsuitable the occasion. Why then did he rebuff her question now? 

In the face of the growing silence, Rhinure decided to do something she had done on only scant occasions – she repeated her question. “My Lord, are you ill?”

Rhinure watched as Legolas studiously avoided answering her question. Worried, she moved away from the window she had been looking out of, coming to stand near his averted head. Why did he not look at her? What had she done wrong?

Rhinure studied her husband’s profile, clear enough even in this dying light. With his gaze determinedly fixed on the centre of room, away from where she stood, she took the liberty to study him, something she would not have done if he had been looking at her. Even with the faint frown on his lips and the displeasure on his face, Rhinure could not stop her heart speeding up as she took in his fair hair falling over one shoulder, muscled arms by his sides, hands resting palm-down on the sheets – he was beautiful there was no doubt of it, but that was not the reason why she was anxious. Others may not have seen beyond his beauty, mistaking his stillness for serenity, but she saw the faint quivering in his muscles as he kept his arms absolutely still and the white shade of his knuckles as he pressed his palms into the sheets.

Rhinure frowned, not knowing what she had done wrong but wanting to make amends for it. She crouched next to him, so close that her breath stroked his arm, causing Legolas to close his eyes momentarily, but not enough to make him turn his head.

She had not slept next to him, leaving the bed as soon as their lovemaking finished. It was not like the last time but too similar for Legolas not to feel slighted. Once she had what she had so obviously wanted, she left him at the first opportunity, denying him the comfort that was as much a part of making love as the physical release. Legolas admitted that he was not being particularly rational or particularly considerate, after all she was still here in his room, unlike last time, but he was tired of being the one to understand, the one to compromise. Now, he wanted Rhinure to bow to his wishes and just … give in.

But he would not make her.

Rhinure placed her palms on the side on the bed, crouching next to him, hoping that he would finally look at her, but he did not. She bent forward and lightly kissed his bicep, working her way up to his shoulder – until she was on her knees.

“Legolas – please.” Rhinure did not know what exactly she was pleading for, but a plea it was.

For all of Legolas’ fine thoughts and firm resolve, he was disgusted to find that all Rhinure had to do was speak his name in that tone of voice and he just crumbled. He wondered if she did it deliberately – probably.

Finally turning to look at her, ready to reprimand her for not respecting him enough to hold to her promise, Legolas found that Rhinure was able to make more than his resolution totter, she was able to rob him of his very words. Looking at the kneeling elleth next to him, wrapped up in a borrowed robe – his, from the looks of it – Legolas decided that reprimands could wait a little longer. At this very moment, Legolas was more concerned with just staring at his wife, something that he had not been able to do since they had moved on to the bedchamber and more distracting activities had held his attention.

His robe was too big for her, Legolas noticed irrelevantly, not sure why that observation mattered except that his mind did not seem to be moving past it. Or it could be the observation that she did not seem to be wearing anything under it that distracted him. The robe had slipped off one of her shoulders, showing soft, white skin he wanted to sink his teeth into. From the angle she was leaning at, he could see an enticing amount of her cleavage, making him groan again.

Rhinure rested her chin on his arm, looking up at him, presenting him with an unintentional and false picture of submission. “Tell me what is wrong, my Lord.”

Legolas looked at her for a minute longer before sweeping her into his arms. He settled her onto his lap, one arm holding her to him and the other caressing her sensitive ears, making her shudder with pleasure.

“You were too far away,” Legolas whispered plaintively, burying his face in her hair.

“Then hold me close,” Rhinure said softly, tilting her head back so that he could kiss her.

And kiss her he did, pulling her up so close that she was crushed against his chest, holding her enclosed in his arms as he temporarily set his hurt aside for the relief that his wife could provide. He kissed her until both were dizzy from arousal and lack of air and even then he broke it off with reluctance.

Reluctance that Rhinure shared. Even though Legolas was not kissing her anymore, and his arms afforded only token restraint she made no move to pull away from him. Instead, she placed her head over his heart, content to rest there for a moment as she caught her breath and sorted out her befuddled thoughts. She still did not understand why Legolas had been so reticent, but at least whatever she had done had not been that dire. He would not kiss her so ardently if it were. Would he?

Once she was calm enough to talk, she asked, “Am I still too far away, my Lord?”

*~ Yes. ~*

Legolas shook his head and smiled at his wife, still cradled in his arms like a child, but there must have been something unconvincing in it because she frowned.

“You are not pleased with me?”

Legolas raised an eyebrow at the question, surprised and not a little mocking at the obviousness of the question. He did not answer, letting the silence linger until she was forced to ask, “Why?”

“You broke your word,” Legolas replied, looking significantly at the empty space beside him.

Rhinure stiffened at the accusation and answered more heatedly than she would have liked or thought appropriate, “I did not leave. I am still here, as you can see, my Lord.”

“You did not come to bed, my Lady.”

“Where do you think I am at the moment?” This time Rhinure looked at meaningfully at the arms still holding her close. Neither had moved away from the other – yet.

“Did you get any sleep, my Lady?” Legolas asked pointedly, ignoring her question for one of his own.

“No,” Rhinure answered reluctantly.

“Did you leave my bed as soon as I feel asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Did you intend to leave even when we were making love?”

“Yes.”

“Then you broke your word.”

“I most certainly did not! You made me promise that I would not leave without telling you. I did not leave. I was by the balcony, instead of resting in my own chambers. My promise did not concern my sharing your bed or not.”

Legolas’ lips thinned in displeasure as he countered, “A wife is duty bound to share her husband’s bed.”

Perhaps those were not the right words to use, for Rhinure went absolutely still and slightly pale. She tried to move out of the circle of his arms but he would not let her. After a minute of futile resistance, she gave up, lying rigidly across his lap.

Finally – “That is your definition of my duty – not mine. I am not obliged to share anyone’s bed unless I choose to.”

“You did not seem to complain earlier.”

“Which I am now regretting,” Rhinure shot back.

Legolas’ eyes glittered dangerously and she knew she had gone too far.  His hands slipped inside her robe, stroking her skin with a sensuousness belied by the meaning in his eyes. Rhinure could not help the way she arched into his touch, giving him easier access to her, making a farce of her supposed unwillingness.

Legolas watched Rhinure’s flushed face and ruthlessly crushed his inclination to forgive her words if only she would always look at him like she was right now, with a passion mingled with vulnerability that was breathtaking.

Legolas smiled in triumph when she moaned, his wicked fingers making her writhe with desire.

“Liar.”

That soft word slammed into Rhinure with almost physical violence, shattering the haze Legolas had induced, leaving her trembling and ashamed. This is what happened others had power over you – you got hurt.

“Let me go, my Lord.”

Legolas paused his exploration to say, “You do not mean that. You enjoy this as much as I do.”

Rhinure caught one of his wrists before he could move. Her grip was tight and when Legolas tried to free his wrist, she tightened it even further until it became painful. “I do not enjoy it at this moment.”

The words were so cold that Legolas knew that he had succeeded in illustrating how much she desired him, and how little resistance she had against his advances. He had also managed to humiliate her in the process. That had not been his intent, he had just wanted to …  Legolas frowned when he realised he was not sure what he wanted to do, just make her understand some measure of the hurt her words and actions had caused him. Somehow that original purpose had gotten lost and all he had managed to do was hurt her in petty retaliation.

In wretched defeat, Legolas removed his arms form her, not surprised when she quickly put some distance between them. But she did not leave the bed, only shifting to the edge, giving him hope that she would forgive him yet.

“Do I have your permission to retire, my Lord?”

Or maybe not. Legolas winced at the frigid tone Rhinure used. He moved forward until he was close enough to touch her, even though he was careful not to. The stiff set of her shoulders told him it would not be a good idea to even attempt as much.

Rhinure waited for the inevitable apologies and meaningless words that Legolas would now spout – none changing the injury he had caused her. She would leave as soon as he gave her permission, waiting only because she did not want to be accused again of not doing her duty and obeying her husband.

“Rhinure,” Legolas leant forward until he was whispering in her ear, “stay.”

Rhinure shook her head, causing some her hair to brush his arm, which was placed ever so close to her back, ready to stop her if she moved off the bed. But she did not; instead she glanced at Legolas from the corner of her eyes. “Is that an order, my Lord?”

“No that is a plea.”

Those few, simple words spoken were enough to make Rhinure reconsider her decision to leave. She was appalled to realise that perhaps Cothion had been correct when he had said that the Prince had too much power over her and that she was incapable of maintaining the proper distance from him. Even though she knew she wanted some time to herself, privacy in which to prepare for the feast tonight, she could not make herself ignore Legolas’ request. She was not comfortable remaining but neither was she able to leave now that he had asked her not to. 

Legolas taking her silence as hesitation, pressed his suit , “Do not leave, hervess nín. Stay with me.”             (My wife)

Slowly, giving Rhinure enough time and warning to pull away, he gently lifted her hair away, leaving her neck exposed. Then tenderly he kissed her nape, only lightly brushing her skin with his mouth. “Let me make amends.”

Rhinure shut her eyes, even that light touch was unbearable. “How so, my Lord? By using my own body against me?”

Legolas stopped, giving her enough time to move even further away, feet now resting on the ground.

“I would not do that intentionally. You must believe that.”

 “And unintentionally?” Rhinure asked, still not turning around.

 Legolas sighed, “I cannot promise that, my Lady.”

The sheer honesty of the words gave Rhinure pause. The question had been unfair and she knew it, no one could prevent accidents from happening and it was all too easy for Legolas to use her since she could not deny him in the first place. But she had needed to know how Legolas would answer, whether he would have lied to her to make her stay or whether he would be sincere even if it meant that she would leave.

“But I will promise that I would never willingly try to hurt or humiliate you.” Legolas watched Rhinure’s back, wondering what she was thinking. Perhaps one day, when the bond between them was stronger he would be able to gauge the mood behind that mask of hers, but now watching her cool profile he was ignorant as to whether she had forgiven him or not.

“Do you believe me, Rhinure?”

Rhinure finally turned to him, crawling back to where he lay. “I think so.”

Legolas smiled up at her, “What can I do to convince you?”

Rhinure smiled back, making his heart skip a beat. “Give me time, my Lord,” she said softly, hoping to put their problems on hold for the moment. Legolas nodded, wanting to reach out for her but still not daring to.

Rhinure kissed him lightly on the cheek and slipped off the bed, heading for her room.

“Will you not stay?”

“I cannot. I need to get some rest before the feast tonight.”

“You can rest here.”

“And will you let me rest?” Rhinure asked archly, deflecting the statement with humour. She did not want to explain that she was just not comfortable with the idea of sleeping with him. Even when making love she retained some measure of awareness – precious little, but enough to know that she had some control over what happened. To sleep in his bed, be that vulnerable, required her to give up too much power. It was a trust that she was not willing to surrender – not even to her beautiful husband.

“Probably not,” Legolas grinned sheepishly.

“Then it best I go to my own room.”

“Rhinure?”

Rhinure paused at the balcony that led to her own room, waiting to hear what Legolas had to say.

“Why did you wear my robe?”

“Because it smells like you.”

    x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 2 – Eryn Lasgalen

It was completely dark when the time for the Feast arrived. In consideration of their recent reunion, Thranduil had graciously allowed the Prince and Princess to arrive afterall the guests has assembled, giving them more time on their own. Legolas sighed as he settled his crown securely on his head; he supposed he should have been grateful to his father, but as he dressed in his room – alone – he felt numb.

He had promised Rhinure time to trust him, but it did not stop him from hurting when she did not. Watching her leave, knowing that she did not wish to stay with him, had wounded him. In her absence, Legolas had longed for his wife so much that he had almost forgotten the person behind the title. But now that she was actually here, in the next room, Legolas found himself confused. It hurt to be away from her, but it hurt even more to have her near.

Every time he closed his eyes he could see Rhinure as she lay across his arm, eyes closed in unbearable pleasure, lips trembling, begging to be kissed.

Legolas roughly yanked his collar into place, dressing with an efficiency that held little, if no, enthusiasm; he could feel anger boil up in him, threatening to spill over and scald all around him – anger he did not know how to pacify. He was angry with Rhinure for causing this … mess in the first place, for not caring about him enough to want to spend time with him.

Legolas knew they had obstacles to overcome. He did not entirely trust his wife, and he certainly did not trust her unconditionally when it came to the security of his Realm – but that did not mean he ignored what they shared. He was trying hard to separate their public and private personas, why could she not do the same? All he asked was that she share his bed, that they might find some measure of rest together. Was it really too much to ask of her?

Legolas shuddered, having to clutch at the mirror to steady himself, as another image of Rhinure assailed him. This time her eye’s burned with shame and unspoken pain, pain that he had caused. Her lips were tightly squeezed together, holding in her displeasure at his insistence. But despite her will and restraint, the image was one of her weakness contrasted with his power – the power he had over her, the power to strip and humiliate her, to make her want him with a premeditated intensity. He could manipulate her and he had learnt that he would do so, even in the privacy of his bed, to get what he wanted. To do it to protect his people, to safeguard the lives of many was perhaps justifiable. But to do so for his own, selfish pleasure, sickened him.

True, what he wanted was insignificant – just some time alone with her – but Rhinure did not want to give it to him. Instead of accepting with a patience and intelligence to be expected from an immortal being, he had lost control – something rare enough to be frightening in itself. He had always been taught to respect others’ choices, no matter how painful they may be to endure. But for some reason he could not do that with Rhinure. Why was his instinctive reaction to have her near, even when it meant having her near against her will?

Even now, the memory of Rhinure’s swollen lips still enticed him, even though he could hear the unwelcome words they formed, the feel of an exposed shoulder under his mouth still drew him, even though the muscles were stiff from rejection. But most of all, the thought of his wife in his bed excited him, even though she did not want to be there. He desired her, perhaps too much. It made him doubt himself and break the precepts he had always lived his life by, and that frustrated him.

Still, Legolas could not help the perverse feeling of pride at the thought that if he had taken her in his arms again and made love to her, she would not have been able to resist him. Even if it were temporary, she would have given in.

Legolas rested his head against the cool mirror. The Valar help him, he was still tempted to take that moment and just ignore the consequences. The more he thought about it the more attractive the idea seemed. To just take what he wanted now and let tomorrow handle itself. The intensity of the feeling alarmed him; he had never been so tempted to act selfishly, to disregard all the principles he had been taught – to go against what he has always believed to be his nature.

He was not impatient, not given to taking what he wanted without carefully measuring the cost. Being a Prince had drilled a strong sense of responsibility in him, had taught him to be cautious and always weigh all sides before making decisions.

He could be decisive if need arose, in battle or in judgment – but those decision carried a sense of urgency with them, a dire proportion that necessitated action.

But this marriage was not a matter of life or death; it was not something that needed to be rushed. It required patience and care. Legolas knew this intellectually, but somehow could not force his mind to abide by these qualities. In the end, he could handle passion and anger, he could even handle the insanity Rhinure invoked – but he could not handle the thought that his feelings themselves could be wrong.

As Legolas finished dressing, becoming the Woodland Prince – calm, gracious, charming and thoroughly confused – he thought sardonically that it was ironic that the person who caused all this confusion was also the only one who could stop it. If being away from Rhinure caused all this anxiety, Legolas knew with a sinking certainty that all he had to do was kiss her to make his troubles disappear.

He had to restrain himself from marching into Rhinure’s room and doing just that. Only a residual sense of patience and an unwavering loyalty to his father prevented such action. Thranduil was expecting him and Legolas could not disappoint him – not even for his tempting wife.

He clung to that thread of loyalty with great determination. As he left for the Princess’ chambers he kept repeating that to himself – one tiny slip of an elleth would not unhinge him so completely. He was a Prince, he had faced deadlier challenges than her before. He just had to keep that guise in the forefront for Legolas, Rhinure’s husband, had no chance whatsoever of completing the evening unscathed.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Istion waited patiently outside the Princess’ chambers as the time for the Feast approached. Ehtewen had allowed him to take the second watch so that he would be able to rest before the Feast. Now, she was doing the same so that both would be alert tonight. Tonight, when Mistress walked into the Great Hall, both her Guards would be present. Tonight, Mistress would be escorted as befitted her position as Sacrifice, leader of the Avari people, not like last time when only Ehtewen has been allowed to attend.

This time the Prince would not be able to stop them. He would not be able to leave Mistress unprotected.

Now, in some dark, oft ignored part of his mind where all unwelcome realisations were relegated, Istion knew that his disapproval of the Prince was unreasonable. That previous feast had happened a long time ago – a lifetime ago, a lifetime where he was not Second Guard, when someone more capable and suited for the job was. A lot had changed since then: Morion was dead, Istion was now responsible for his beloved Mistress, and the Prince – the Prince was now Mistress’ lover as well as her husband.

That thought worried Istion sometimes, though he was careful to keep his thoughts to himself. Was Mistress still the elleth he had known all his life, or had coming to this place ruined her completely? There was always a price to pay when one played games with Fate and Necessity, but was not losing Rhinure too high a price? Sometimes Istion thought so, but then if Mistress was willingly doing this then what right did he have to say that her sacrifice was unnecessary? Duty was paramount in an Avari’s life. Then again, if she was willing to give up being an Avari so easily, what kind of Avari was she in the first place?

Rhinure had always been the strength in Istion’s life. After his parent’s death, she had given him purpose and re-forged his ties to the Clan and thus to life. If she crumbled, Istion was afraid of what would happen to him.

Istion resolutely brought his chaotic thoughts to order, suppressing his emotions since he could not sift through them satisfactorily. Istion shook his head, as if to shake the unwanted thoughts from his mind like droplets of water.

It was his duty to protect Mistress. Instead of pondering over things he should not be thinking about in the first place he should concentrate on his duty. Duty was the anchor to life – it was definite and unchanging – it was direction in a time of uncertainty.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Across from where Istion stood, another bodyguard waited for his charge to emerge. This elf was lost in thought, but it was a pleasant sojourn. This elf was calm – even amused by the tension that dripped from the air. Princess Rhinure’s arrival had stirred a lot of emotions, even in the supposedly unaffected Avari.

Take the little elf in front of him – Herenion believed his name was Istion – who looked as if he were preparing for battle. Which, all things considered, he probably was. Maenon was off somewhere wrecking havoc in the Avari ranks and delighting in it. Thranduil was probably holed up in his room, plotting some dire new scheme.

Oropher would be proud of his son, Herenion thought fondly. His elfling had grown up to be a fine ruler, a little too prone to scheming and a little too superior on occasion, as Herenion reminded Thranduil every so often. If Herenion missed the fire that Oropher brought to life, he loved Thranduil like the son he never had. And he recognised that Thranduil could remove those in his path as easily, if not easier, than his father.

As he was going to do with the Avari. Thranduil was working against the dark elves, Herenion could feel it in his bones – he just did not know the details yet. He hoped it was necessary and reasonable, for Legolas would not be happy at any unnecessary pain caused to the Wood-elves or his wife’s people. If there was one reliable check on Thranduil it was his son – but even that had been known to fail on occasion.

His Prince was caught between two scheming, manipulative elves. Herenion consistently found it surprising that Legolas did not get crushed between the two like a grain of wheat between a mortar and a pestle.

Legolas was used to obedience, it was such a fundamental duty of a Prince to his King that sometimes Herenion was afraid that he forgot how to break the rules to get what he wanted. He had seen glimpses of a strong will, but the truth was that Legolas was too well loved and readily obeyed by his people to every really need to pull rank or command. Legolas led by the gentle hand of love – a subtler, and in Herenion’s opinion, more difficult path than his father, who had the implicit ability to make people obey automatically.

It was not that Thranduil did not care or love his people – it was just that his love, like the rest of him, was fierce and powerful. It inspired an equally strong devotion, a devotion that engendered a deference that the more placid Legolas could not.

Herenion feared that his young charge would be irrevocably torn between his father – who he adored – and his wife – who he was fast on the way to adoring. The day Legolas fell in love with Rhinure would be the day he would be hurt. But then, it was not as if he were not hurting now.

Herenion sighed, it was a difficult situation and one that even he had difficulty being optimistic about.

Of course, Legolas had surprised him on occasion. It was not good to underestimate this son of the House of Oropher. He might not be as volatile as his sires, but in the end it did not matter how much strength you had, what mattered was how it was used. And Legolas knew how to make the best of any situation.

Look how he had handled this marriage. There was still room for improvement – lots of room – but Legolas had still managed to adapt well, even grow a little. He was a little more aggressive, which could not hurt, and a little more ready to get his own way.

Herenion just wished that it was not just because of the frustration and trouble Rhinure caused him. She turned him inside out and pushed him beyond his limits. It was not surprising that Legolas was reacting to the constant strain; Herenion wondered when it would degenerate to retaliation. If Rhinure did not allow Legolas some victories in this battle that was their marriage, Legolas would soon defend himself by going on the offensive. Herenion refused to even think of the outcome of that possibility.

With a little bit of luck and lots of patience, Legolas and Rhinure could make this relationship work. They could have a relationship where they trusted and depended on each other. Perhaps one day they could live happily ever after.

*~ And I will become a warg’s uncle. ~* Herenion smiled at his own naivety. No matter what he wished, Legolas – and his stubborn wife – would do things their own way, no matter how frustrating it became for Herenion. Sometimes, he wished he could just knock both their heads together and then lock them in a room for a few centuries or so. It would be so much simpler.

 Herenion laughed silently at the thought. No wonder that young Avari was nervous. He was right to be – things were going to get difficult.

*~ Poor child. ~*

In a fit of generosity, Herenion decided to speak to the Avari – see if he could reassure him. “So, is this your first assignment?”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Istion visibly started when he heard the other elf speak to him. He had noticed Herenion standing in front of the Prince’s door, but he had not paid much attention to him. Ehtewen would not be pleased. This did not bode well for his vigilance.

Neither did the fact that Herenion had to repeat the question before it registered with him that he was supposed to answer. He was sorely tempted to blush like a naughty elfling which, he supposed with some self-mockery, he was compared to Herenion.

“No, First Guard, I have attended Mistress before.” The Avari honorific slipped out without Istion’s realisation, but it seemed appropriate for the older elf.

Herenion stepped close, but taking care not to move too far from Legolas’ door. “But this is your first time at a formal gathering here?”

“This is my first time in any gathering with the Eldar.”

“And that makes you nervous?”

Despite the gentle tone of the question, Istion drew himself up. There was so much offended pride in the move that Herenion could not help smiling. “It makes me cautious. Would you deny the need to be so?”

“Sadly, I cannot,” Herenion paused speculatively.  If the mere mention of nervousness raised Istion’s hackles so, then what would a more aggressive approach do? “Do you not feel regret too?”

Istion folded his arms behind his back, feeling a necessity to appear calm and collected in front of this elf, even though he had a vague misgiving that he was failing miserably. “Regret for what, First Guard?”

“Why, the lamentable situation the Prince and his Princess find themselves in?”

“Is it lamentable?” Istion successfully managed to stop himself from stepping back. Even though he really did not want to be having this conversation, he was not going to appear jumpy.

“Do you not think so? Would it not be so much better for all if they were not so hostile towards each other?” Herenion asked innocently.

“That is really Mistress’ and her husband’s concern.” Istion wondered if running would be too obvious an escape tactic.

“Yes, but,” Herenion smiled as Istion stiffened even further at that ‘but’. Any straighter and the Avari would resemble an axe-pole. “But do you not think it would be better if Princess Rhinure sat down and discussed things with the Prince? They could be completely honest with each other. Really open up, lay bare their hearts.” Herenion could almost see the Avari shudder at the mental picture. Still, he had been only half joking when he made the suggestion.

“I think …”

“Yes?” said Herenion pleasantly.

“I think I should go in and see if Mistress Rhinure needs any help.” Istion decided that running was not too obvious a ploy after all.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Istion quickly stepped inside the Princess’ chambers, shutting the door with giddy relief. He took a moment to compose himself, not wanting to face his Mistress in such a state. By now, he truly felt like an elfling who had just escaped a well-meaning but highly awkward parental lecture.

Istion took a deep breath while pretending to secure the door. He was annoyed and he did not know whether it had to do with his cowardly retreat or the fact that he had thought of Herenion in a paternal context, in fact in any context at all. What would Mistress say if she found out? What explanation would he give for his hasty entrance?

Istion turned carefully, projecting that air of competent indifference that he had seen so often on the First Guard’s face when she was on duty. The room was quiet and Istion could almost feel his Mistress’ eyes boring through his back. She had not spoken yet, which led Istion to conclude that she must have heard the conversation.

Facing into the room, Istion could not see where Rhinure was. Her bureau was unoccupied and the partition to her dressing chamber was drawn, showing that it was empty. The silken material of her gown rustled in the breeze coming in from the balcony.

*~ Is she still with her husband? ~* Istion frowned, Prince Legolas should have let her go by now. She had travelled hard and needed her rest. Sometimes, that Eldar could be most inconsiderate.

Istion was about to exit and march right into the Prince’s Chambers when the soft sound of breathing halted his steps. There, lying cocooned in her bed was Istion’s missing Mistress. She was curled on her side. One hand was under the pillow, supporting her cheek while the other was kept close to her heart. From the vacant look in her beautiful eyes, Istion knew she was still asleep. Deeply asleep for she had obviously not heard him enter.

Istion smiled at the innocent picture Rhinure made. She looked so peaceful, with a stray lock of hair falling over her cheek and her face clear of the troubles she usually carried. Istion was tempted to let her sleep, but the Feast was approaching and Rhinure would not be happy if she was late because of Istion’s unneeded compassion.

Istion moved towards the bed, amazed that Mistress Rhinure had still not awakened. She must have been more exhausted that he had thought.

Istion tenderly tucked her hair behind her ear, calling, “Mistress, it is time …”

That was as far as got because at his first touch, Rhinure’s hand shot up to grab his wrist while the one resting under her pillow came out gripping one of her knives. It was against his neck before Istion had a chance to swallow. If she had been even a little more careless, he would have been bleeding all over her.

“You should not have done that,” Rhinure said calmly, not moving her knife from his throat, letting the cold metal reinforce her words. Istion knew not to approach her surreptitiously. He was lucky that she had been aware enough to stop her reflex response and had not wedged her knife in his throat.

“You should get dressed. The King will expect you to make an appearance soon.” To Istion’s credit his voice did not waver a bit, even though the metal was pressed close to his skin. But then, this was his Sacrifice; she would not hurt him – much.

“I know.”

“You were asleep.”

“Really? How observant of you.” Rhinure withdrew her knife and pointedly looked at Istion until he stepped back.

“You would have been late if I had not woken you up.” Istion helped Rhinure out of bed, intrigued to see that she wore a robe obviously not hers. For one, it was too big and even though she belted it securely twice over, the sleeves still hung past her hands and the hem still got in the way of her feet. It was a male’s robe – the Prince’s perhaps.

“We will never know the truth of that statement, will we?” Rhinure walked past Istion to where her dress was laid out for her.

“I guess not.” Istion looked at what Rhinure had chosen and stated, “You are going to wear that tonight.”

“You are full of observations this evening.” Rhinure picked up the gown and walked towards the dressing room.

“Mistress, is it not a bit … dull?” Istion asked carefully as he looked over the pale green gown with something akin to distaste.

“I think this is the dress I am expected wear. It compliments what the Prince will be wearing.” Rhinure held it out in front of her. It was a delicate creation, a green so pale it was almost white. Pearls had been sown into the skirt in a subtle but particularly feminine pattern. The full sleeves were slashed to lay bare her pale skin. The full skirt rose slightly in the front to reveal a pure, innocent white underskirt.

“It compliments the Prince perhaps but not you, Mistress.”

“It is an elegant dress,” Rhinure replied, though she privately agreed with Istion’s judgement.

“Yes, perfectly elegant and charming. It would look wonderful on one of the Wood-elves, what with their smiling faces and flushed cheeks.”

“Are you implying that I am not ‘perfectly elegant and charming’, Istion?” Rhinure glanced back with an arched eyebrow and teasing expression.

“You are beautiful, Mistress,” said Istion sincerely. “But you are also Avari and this dress is not.”

“No, it is not, is it? However, I am supposed to wear this tonight,” Rhinure repeated.

“Why must you do what they expect? You are Avari.”

“I will not wear black again. These Eldar would take it as an insult and I would see it as a dereliction of my duty. Besides, you do remember what happened last time?”

“Then wear one of your other dresses. I know you brought some from Tirnen,” Istion persisted.  This dress would not flatter Rhinure at all, he was sure of it. It would cause people to look at her wonderingly and make them question how the Prince could bear to be with someone so colourless, especially when he had his pick of all the ellyth in Mirkwood.

“Those dresses are meant to be worn when I am not on duty and tonight I am,” said Rhinure simply. As she stepped behind the screen she turned to look at the younger elf. “Though this might not be Avari, let us see if we can come close.”

“As my Mistress wishes.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Done.”

Rhinure smoothed the last strand of hair into place and stepped back from the mirror. She was satisfied – even if the dress was a little too clinging and exposed more of her chest that she was used to.

Too much skin; it was tantamount to a sign that said, ‘Look at me.’ Rhinure was tempted to try yanking up the neckline but desisted for it would only wrinkle the dress without changing the actual display of flesh. It was sufficient for the evening or until she found a more suitable seamstress.

“What do you think?” Rhinure turned to let Istion take in her full appearance.

“You will do,” he answered shortly.

And she would too. If there was little to recommend her appearance, there was little to object to either.  Her dark hair was swept off her face into a tight, proper chignon. The dress floated around her ankles in soft, un-Rhinure-like waves. Istion could not think of a word to describe how the dress looked on her – it was just not her. But at least the rest of her look was Avari, even if the willowy dress was not. She wore no jewellery, her throat was bare and her ears empty. Only her karha adorned her hand – four silver rings bound together by slender chains, shining in the firelight. But even that great complication was simple in appearance, much like Rhinure herself.

Over the years, with very little material wealth at their disposal the Avari had developed a sense of style – if it could be called that – which was austere in its practicality and beautiful in its determination. Travelling constantly prevented them from keeping frivolous items like jewellery, silks – books – but each clung to some little token that reminded them of the beauty that still existed in Arda – somewhere. Rhinure had a few dresses that she kept for some mysterious feminine reason that Istion had never understood but respected. That and weapons – weapons were something the Avari had an abundance of.

But in the end, what they had or had not was irrelevant to Istion. The Avari were beautiful – Mistress was beautiful. In her simplicity and realistic approach to life she brought beauty to everything that was around her. She was the perfect setting against which the flawed beauty of this land could still be appreciated – perhaps not beautiful in herself, but fitting so perfectly into everything else that she completed the canvas. For Istion, the opulence of the dress clashed with the inherent frame that Rhinure was, but who was he to argue? 

“The First Guard will be pleased.”

“And the Commander?”

 “I believe so, you are Avari – even in that Eldar dress.”

Rhinure bowed her head in thanks, appreciating those words probably more than Istion understood. Being back in the Woodland Realm, being so close to Legolas again, unnerved and overwhelmed her. Istion’s words had reminded her that no matter where she was and what she wore, she was still Avari.

“Where are the First Guard and the Commander?”

“The First Guard said that they would join us when you were ready. She decided that the Commander will accompany you into the feast.”

“And he agreed?” Rhinure asked sceptically

 “Mistress, the First Guard can be most persuasive.”

“She bullied him into agreeing.”

“I would not exactly put it that way, but the Commander did have different plans originally.”

“I would,” said Rhinure emphatically. “No one refuses the First Guard.”

“You do.”

Rhinure glanced back at him and smiled briefly, “And that shows how little you know.”

Istion opened his mouth to reply only to be cut short by Rhinure.

“I am ready. Let us leave.”

Istion straightened his shoulder; made sure his sword was loose in his scabbard and then followed his Sacrifice.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure stepped out of the room to find Ehtewen and Cothion waiting for her. As expected, the First Guard was dressed in uncompromising black since she was on duty tonight. Even so, to Rhinure’s prejudiced eyes, she was lovely. High cheekbones, smooth sun-kissed skin, brown eyes, a striking if stubborn mouth and a toned physique made up the First Guard. She was attractive in a bold sense but that was not what made her unique. Elves were meant to be beautiful – Iluvatar had lavished much attention on his First Born children and it showed. But beauty alone did not and could not ever hope to describe she who was Ehtewen.

Rhinure had always believed that the one defining characteristic of Ehtewen above all others was her pride – the pride she took in everything and anything she did, the pride that covered her like a mantle at all times. With her head held high and her shoulders squared she faced life with an unchanging pride that made her beautiful. She was what she was and never would she hide in shame.

Such pride could harden into inflexibility and stubbornness on occasion, when needed, but it was an ideal to aspire to. To not live life in the shadows, to accept one’s actions and all their consequences like one’s own children – unconditionally – that was beauty for the younger elleth.

“Salaam, dai.”             (Greetings, care-giver/nanny.)

“Salaam, Malkin.”      (Greeting, Mistress.)

Ehtewen turned from Cothion to look over her Sacrifice, “You will do. It is good that you did not wear black tonight.”

Cothion raised his eyebrows, but did not comment. The dress was pretty enough but it did not particularly suit Mistress, and Cothion saw no reason for her to wear it. Besides, she was on duty tonight as well, no matter what she thought. She should have been in black or at least have made more of a compromise than she did.

Since he was not on attendance tonight, strictly speaking, there was no necessity for him to wear black but he still did it – as a warning and a declaration of what he was. But, in deference to the customs of these elves – no matter how strange they might seem to him – his black tunic was embroidered with pure silver thread in the sigil of his house. It was a striking motif and one sure to stand out in the cacophony of colour tonight. If these elves wanted so much to be noticed then he would show them how it should be done – with an Avari twist.

Besides, he liked black – it complimented his colouring.

“It makes you look like walking marble.”

Rhinure raised an eyebrow at Cothion’s flat tone. “I take it you disapprove.”

“It makes you look too pale. You are fatigued as it is from the ride from Tirnen. Instead of giving yourself some colour and vibrancy you have leeched the little you have by wearing this.”

“All this from someone wearing black! Not too much colour in that. You do not practice what you so vehemently preach, Commander,” said Rhinure archly. Cothion had chosen the most inopportune time to break the silence he had maintained since leaving Tirnen.

“I would not have said anything if you were wearing black – one does not choose a uniform on the criteria of charm. However, if you are going to wear something other than a uniform, it should flatter you.”

Rhinure was tempted to fold her hands and tap her foot impatiently but she restrained herself. Living marble had a reputation to live up to after all. It would be unseemly to throw a temper tantrum, especially since Rhinure had already agreed with Istion’s all too similar opinion.

“This dress was chosen by the Prince,” Rhinure explained.

“Then let him wear it.”

The image of Legolas in the dress made Rhinure smile. It also made her irritation disappear. It was such a lovely image – Istion had been right when he had said that the dress would compliment Legolas.

When she spoke again, her voice was calm, with just the right touch of mischievous archness that Cothion smiled back. “Well, it is done now.” With that, Rhinure headed towards Legolas’ rooms.

As Rhinure passed Cothion, he reached out to gently tap her bare arm, signalling to Ehtewen and Istion to precede her. She looked up questioningly at him but he did not reply. Instead he reached into his pocket and gingerly drew out a long-stemmed, deep red rose.

“It was a good thing I had the foresight to pick this today.” He broke off the wicked thorns from the stem and placed the bloom in Rhinure’s hair, just behind her ear. Startled, Rhinure reached up to touch the rose but Cothion stopped her. “Leave it be. It looks good in your hair.”

And it did – nestled against her dark hair, the red colour almost pulsated, drawing attention to the highlights in her hair. “Since you will not wear something more vibrant, it is fortunate I had this with me.”

Rhinure touched the flower delicately, caressing the soft petals. “It really does not suit my gown.”

“The gown does not really suit you.”

Rhinure nodded and when she spoke her voice was soft and a little bewildered. “Why?”

“I would have had you look beautiful tonight, Mistress so that all may see that even the Unwilling have gems enough to adorn the Eldar. Since the Prince’s choice prevents this, I give you this flower,” Cothion touched the bloom, where Rhinure’s fingers still rested, “to remind you that you are still beautiful – whether the Eldar realise it or not.”

“Thank you,” Rhinure whispered.

Cothion nodded and continued, “I know that circumstances have been difficult for the Clan recently and you and I have not seen eye to eye, but you are still my Sacrifice and Avari. Whatever happens and whatever changes, that will not.”

Rhinure stepped back and brought her right palm first to her heart, then her lips and finally her forehead, the traditional response to an Avari salute, thanking Cothion without words for his reminder. She had and would continue to have problems with him, but it was moments such as these that reminded her why Cothion was Heir. He had a knack for doing the right thing for his people. For that, Rhinure loved him – whether she told him or not.

“Come, Commander, we are expected.” Rhinure’s manner no longer carried any hint of softness to it. The only sign that this exchange had ever happened was the crimson flower shining against her dark hair.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

After stepping out from his room, Legolas immediately headed towards Rhinure’s room, nodding to Herenion who immediately fell in behind him. He would escort Rhinure to the Great Hall. The sooner the got there, the sooner they could leave. 

With that commendable idea, Legolas set off to collect his wife. His determined stride caused his robes to billow out in front of him, doing their best to accommodate their irate user. It would have been a grand sight – the golden-haired Prince dressed in all his finery, a classic picture of virile male beauty – if it had not been for the calamitous frown on his face. Or the fact that he marched as if into battle, instead of gliding elegantly to a celebration. 

It was no wonder that Herenion trailed after him with a highly amused but knowing smile. Somehow, Princess Rhinure had managed to get beneath the smiling façade of the Prince to stir up the side he had so obviously inherited from his father. The annoyance and the determination to master it were timeless Thranduil – so much so that Herenion was reminded of a tiny elfling crossing his arms and standing with his feet set apart, trying to copy his Royal father in a bad mood.

Oropher had been most amused at his tiny son that day.

Herenion smiled at the memory of his King – it never failed to make his heart warm. No wonder he was smiling now, at a situation he suspected was no laughing matter.

So lost in contemplation was he that he did not notice Legolas stop abruptly in front of him. To his deepest shame, it was only when he bumped into Legolas’ back did he realise that his charge was no longer walking. It was fortunate that Herenion was not in the habit of marching or poor Legolas would have been on the floor from the impact. As it was, he threw a sharp look at his bodyguard, to which Herenion only sheepishly shrugged his shoulders, all the while trying to look around Legolas to see what had caused him to stop. Since he was taller than the Prince, it was not too difficult – with a little strategic neck-craning that is.

Behind Legolas, too far to overhear but near enough to see, was the Princess surrounded by her Avari. The First Guard – an attractive elleth she, the little Avari and the new arrival. The one who watched his Prince with a little too much interest. Herenion instinctively moved to Legolas’ side, ready to shield him with his own body if the need arose.

Herenion glanced at Legolas’ profile, taking in the tightly clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. He felt the younger elf stiffen as the Avari affixed a flower in Princess Rhinure’s hair. Herenion would not have to worry about this new problem for long if he continued as he was. Legolas would remove him personally – probably somewhere far away from his wife.

And soon.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas watched with stiff anger as the tall, handsome Avari elf placed a rose in his wife’s hair. He watched as she asked him something while caressing the bloom. He watched with something close to helplessness as Rhinure left the flower in place instead of thanking the elf and removing it.

If he had been angry before, he was furious now. And all because some elf had the temerity to give Rhinure a flower – which she had accepted. How could she?

As Rhinure turned from the Avari, their eyes met across the distance and Legolas frowned in displeasure. Her brow furrowed for just a moment before she stepped forward to greet him.

“My Lord, I was just coming to your chambers.”

“That is a change. Generally you are leaving them – and with as much haste as possible.”

Rhinure cocked her head as she looked speculatively over her husband. That barb had been unwarranted, especially considering his behaviour earlier in the evening. Her movement caused the red rose to glow in the candlelight. Legolas was angry – again. Did he not get tired from expending so much energy?

Deciding not to get into another verbal sparring match with Cothion listening she said, “Should we progress to the Hall? They will be waiting for us.”

Legolas frowned, tempted to answer with something along the lines that it had never bothered her before if people waited for her, but he desisted. There was no point baiting her if she was going to ignore him.

He looked her over, taking in the dress she wore. It was the one he had especially chosen for her – and it did not suit her much. She was much too pale to wear something like this. It was such a lovely, feminine dress that Legolas had fallen in love with it at first sight – much to Herenion’s eternal amusement. He had wanted nothing more than for Rhinure to wear it, for him. But he forgotten that Rhinure was not the kind of elleth this dress was made for – soft in her grace, gentle in her beauty and gracious in her welcome.

Rhinure was … she just was. With her hair viciously pulled back from her face, her shoulders squared, like a shoulders, she was not the kind of beauty that poets went into rapture for. Legolas found her beautiful, very beautiful in fact, but it was the splendour of a well-honed blade, inherently graceful and well-balanced, but dangerous. Rhinure had an air of competence around her that was distancing even now, when she was tired. There was no gentle smile or welcome on this elleth. If not for the few glimpses of vulnerability that seeped through now and again, Legolas would have believed her to be made of stone – an exquisite statue but stone nonetheless.

As it was, she needed a dress that was as striking as she, something that would highlight her rarity, not seek to extinguish it. Something like that red bloom nestled in her hair.

Legolas’ fingers itched to remove the flower. He had chosen badly, no doubt, but it did not sit well with him that someone had chosen better – that someone knew his wife better than he. It was only the fact that it was the unpleasant truth that Legolas kept silent and only offered his arm.

To her credit, Rhinure kept her questions to herself and silently let her husband lead her away.

Both missed the speculative and slightly bewildered look that Cothion gave them.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The Great Hall, deep in the heart of the Palace, glowed in the combined lights of the candles and the many elves gathered there. As far as the eye could see, elves mingled with others, all dressed in their finery, laughing as if the cares of the world mattered not. It was such a festive, beautiful sight.

The high domed hall, covered with branches artfully arranged to suggest a canopy of trees, reverberated with the joy of the Wood-elves. Off to one side, musicians tuned their instruments – harassed but still laughing. Young, impatient couples did not wait for them but danced impromptu, carefree waltzes on the dance floor in the centre, punctuated by frequent giggles.

Around them, older, more patient elves – but no less in love – waited their turn for the floor. Hands intertwined, fair heads resting on strong shoulders, ears bent close to catch whispered words.

For the King, seated alone on his throne, these nights were almost worth the loneliness they caused.

At the far end, on a raised dais of oak green, was the throne of the Woodland King. In times past, another chair had stood besides his – keeping his company. But since Eruante had sailed, Thranduil could not bear the reminder of his loss. If Legolas ever had the misfortunate of becoming King he could have another installed for his wife. So he had thought when he had smashed the Queen’s throne after too many lonely nights.

For such a long time – if not in years, then in experience – there had been no need for a third seat on the dais. So many elves were startled to see a third seat tonight. Granted it was not the Queen’s, for it was placed slightly lower than the King’s, but it was there.

For many – too many – it was a reminder of the one who could not be there. A symbol of all who could not. But equally, it was a reminder that Mirkwood’s Royal family had a princess once more. Three thrones in the Palace once more. Would that they had been four but, somewhere, the Queen’s grace watched over them even still and it was enough.

Perhaps that had been the King’s intention when he had commanded a raised dais tonight, slightly removed from the rest of the seated elves but in clear view of all. It would have been a fitting change.

But then, who knew with the King? He played a deep game and sometimes it was best to let him play it. The elves were alive, the forest grew uninhibited once more and the land was at peace – most of it anyway. That was all that mattered – games or not.

Life was grand.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

There was a momentary lull in the chatter when the Prince and his Princess entered the Hall. Many noted with appreciation that the Prince looked especially fine tonight, if a little glum. Set against the backdrop of the three Avari, Prince Legolas seemed to shine even more than usual. It was unfortunate that it also eclipsed his wife. It was a pity that she was such a colourless little thing. Not unpleasant but nothing like her magnificent husband.

And how magnificent was he! Words failed to come even close – at least for the ellyth who cast longing glances at the fair Prince. Glances that Rhinure noticed and did not appreciate. As long as the invitation in those eyes remained silent, she would do nothing – Legolas brought pleasure to many eyes, hers included – but he was hers, and she would not share.

Legolas led her to the King, oblivious to the ellyth still trying to catch his eyes and to the silent but potent message Rhinure sent out to the beautiful throng. The more daring of the ellyth who dared approach the Prince wisely backed off when the Princess looked at them.

Rhinure wondered if Legolas noticed the havoc he caused amongst others. Stealing a glance at his profile, she thought it unlikely. He must have become inured to all this attention.

Rhinure smiled at herself. Here she was, an Avari, conscious and displeased at all the emotions her husband stirred in others. Emotions were private and they were not to be commented upon or rebuked against. One could feel what one wished. Even though Rhinure found the ellyth’s obviousness a little crass, she could not – should not –reprimand them for something that was their concern. As long as they kept their hands to themselves and away from Legolas, they could feel whatever they wished.

Was that not the Avari way? It was the one, and most important, freedom they allowed themselves. What they felt was theirs, as their lives were not, and no once should take that away from them. Did she not believe that? If so, why then was the desire Legolas stirred in them, so unbearable? By telling the ellyth to back off from Legolas, was she not telling them that to want him as they did, was wrong?

What she should be doing was ignoring the whole thing, as was proper. That is, until one of them made a definite invitation. Now, actions could be reprimanded. It was not amorphous like emotion, it could be acted against.

Still – Rhinure wished the entire giggling mass would go somewhere private and sigh longingly. Preferably far, far away from her husband.

No one could stop her from feeling what she did, either.

Probably the most ironic thing about this whole charade was that Rhinure looked at Legolas and wondered how she, too, could achieve his impassivity. The Avari Sacrifice was looking for lessons from the Eldar Prince.

Fate truly had a sense of humour.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Despite what Rhinure thought, or perhaps because of it, Legolas was all too aware of the ellyth around him. How could he not be, when there were so many of them? Legolas felt like the honey that drew of out the bees from their hive. He was also male and ever appreciative of beauty – especially in the female form. He liked ellyth, the way they looked, the way they moved, the way they made him feel. Though he rarely looked for the attention – why waste the effort when it would come no matter what he did – he was not averse to it. He had been known, on occasion, to revel in it, delighting in his ability to make the ones he was with sparkle and blush with pleasure.

But not tonight.

Tonight was different – tonight he had a wife who, despite all the tension she caused him, made everything pale around her. No matter what she did or did not look like physically, her strength of will was enough to cut down everything in her path. Everything around her became insignificant for she would not give it any importance. The ellyth were just one more example in a long list of examples.

Legolas could not concentrate on the more pleasing ellyth around him when he was so conscious of the one on his arm, and the rose in her beautiful hair. Every time she moved her head to acknowledge a greeting or salutation, Legolas could not help but notice how rich the red looked against the black of her hair. The velvet petals looked perfect against the silk of her hair, calling to Legolas to caress them, to sink his fingers in the thick strands.

The rose annoyed him, but he could not say why, which annoyed him even further. But above all, for reasons even more unclear, Rhinure’s warning to his admirers annoyed him the most. Though he did not know exactly what message she sent, it obviously scared the ellyth. She had no right to behave so. If Legolas wanted the ellyth to leave, he would tell them, not her. It was his choice. If he wanted to pay attention to some other elf – male or female – he would do so. If Rhinure could accept gifts from others, then he could gift his attention elsewhere.

Rhinure had made clear earlier tonight that she did not appreciate his attention towards her, but others did. There were many here tonight who would gladly spend time with him and not try to escape on the first notice. They would not make him feel as if had committed a crime by asking them to stay.

Rhinure would not be able to drive them off tonight. If she wanted to be left alone, she would not force that solitude upon him as well.

And so, Legolas smiled at the crowd, drawing them back. If Rhinure’s warning drove them off, they always came back – unable to resist the Prince for long. It was worth all the coldness from the Princess if he just smiled at them.

The ebb and flow of the crowd continued as the couple walked towards the King. It was like the tide, surging forward but then retreating again, only to try once more.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

King Thranduil raised a questioning eyebrow at Legolas when he rose to greet his Heir and Princess. Legolas only shook his head slightly as he helped Rhinure to her chair, reminding his father that this was neither the time nor the place to be asking questions whose answers he really did not want to hear.

Thranduil sighed as Legolas took his place on the King’s right. His son had had another tiff with his wife – at least Thranduil hoped it was a tiff and not a full blown fight. Looking at Legolas’ set jaw and Rhinure’s stiff shoulders, he revised that hope to that it had not come to blows. That much he could be confident about, his children would never hurt each other physically. Since Thranduil detested being wrong, he did not place any bets on the amount of emotional damage they could cause each other.

Though ostensibly he kept his gaze on his guests, now taking their seats for the feast, Thranduil’s attention was on the two elves sitting beside him. They did not glance at each other but both were extremely conscious of the other, that much Thranduil was willing to wager.

Thranduil turned to acknowledge the black garbed Avari as he took his seat beside Rhinure. He would have to ask Rhinure to introduce this Cothion to him formally once the Feast had started. He was obviously a person of some importance. The way the Avari deferred to him was proof enough of that.

And he was clearly important to Rhinure. Or she was important to him. Either way, they shared an intimate relationship. The way he lent over to whisper in her ear and she tilted her head to catch his words, bespoke a long familiarity. Their heads were close enough to for no one else to hear what was being said but far enough to be comfortable. There was no shuffling back or forth to fix the angle, no all too audible whispers or slightly bumped foreheads that made it clear that the person had never done this before. There was not of that awkwardness in the way Rhinure and Cothion accommodated each other.

The two heads angled towards each other looked right and comfortable – almost beautiful. Against Cothion’s dark background, Rhinure glowed as if she were darkness illuminated. Unlike Legolas, Cothion did not overwhelm her. Instead, he bolstered her so that she was lovely, even in that unflattering dress.

It seemed as if Legolas noticed this change too and was none to happy about it.

Thranduil could almost feel the anger and resentment boiling out of him. He wanted to turn around and reassure his son that no matter who this Cothion was to Rhinure, Legolas remained her husband. It was he who would share he bed and hold her close long into the night. In the end, he would have this comfort with her that Cothion now shared. All it would take was time, perhaps more than a little but elves could afford to be patient.

But Legolas had been correct when he had pointed out that this was neither the time nor place. For now, the King had duties to attend to and Legolas, his son, would have to wait.

Putting aside his regret, Thranduil stood to bring everyone’s attention to him.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Cothion leaned across his chair to whisper in Rhinure’s ear, “Your Prince does not seem pleased tonight.”

Instinctively, Rhinure shifted closer so that Thranduil would not overhear this conversation. “He does not, does he?”

“Do you know why?”

“That is his concern, Commander.”

“Do you not share your thoughts and feelings with your husband, Mistress?”

“I share what is necessary with my husband. My thoughts and feelings are not.” Cothion was surprised that the glass Rhinure was holding had not frosted over; so chilly was the atmosphere.

“I am glad you remember.”

“I never forget. However, you are skirting very close to impertinence. Perhaps it is you who need a reminder about codes of conduct?”

Cothion was saved an answer when King Thranduil rose from his seat, cutting off the opportunity for any more whispering.

Next time.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Thranduil stood, silently waiting until the very last murmur died out and the Great Hall was still. Only then he spoke, his powerful voice carrying to the furthest corner of the Hall.

“A new Age is upon us. As I look around this Hall, it is with great sadness that I note the many who are not hear with us tonight. We have paid for this Age in blood, our blood, that of our friends and loved ones. But even though that thought saddens me, I honour their sacrifice and rejoice tonight.

“Many years we have spent fighting to keep what is ours. This land grows on the blood we have spilt, and it is with pride that I say, thrives. Today the forest sings once more and thanks us for all we – you – have done for it.

“I have never been as proud of you all as I am tonight. Tonight, I was reminded of the reason why life is worth living and fighting for. As I heard your song reverberate, I was reminded why it is such an honour for me to be your King – why I have love you all, why I have always loved you. You make everything worthwhile.”

Thranduil paused to raise his glass in salute to the silent Wood-elves, who watched their King with tears in their eyes. They loved this elf, with all the fierceness and devotion that was a hallmark of their lives.. All their love for their people, for their forest, for themselves, crystallised in this one elf – their King. He was the focal point of their lives and thus their hearts. No one watching them tonight could have doubted that.

Least of all the Avari. The intensity in the room was frightening to the four. They had never seen anything like this before, it was anathema to the way they lived, to everything they believed – such a public declaration of feeling – but neither could they deny that it held a strange grandeur to it.

It also made them feel more isolated than ever before. These elves were not like them. As Thranduil continued the four Avari shifted a little closer to each other, like drawing comfort from like, in the face of such differences.

“As we move into this new Age, we are a little more battered than before, a little more tired. I see in your faces the fatigue from the thousands of battles you have fought, the weariness of a life lived constantly in the state of war. But we are also a little wiser and a lot stronger than before for we are together still – and nothing will change that.”

Thranduil had to pause for this statement caused the Wood-elves to cheer. Together they were, and together they would remain. Rhinure glanced at Legolas and saw an answering pride and determination that his father’s words evoked. Gone was the petulant elf who had walked her across the Hall. In his place was an Eldar Prince, renewing his vows to his people.

“We are together – and I promise you this, nothing will tear us apart. I know that trouble still plagues our forest, but we will overcome even that. If Sauron himself could not make us break, then the sad remnants of these accursed creatures will not. We will defeat them, if not today then tomorrow. This I vow.

“When Dol Guldor finally fell with the help of Lord Celeborn and his elves, I thought we had seen the end of the war. And end it was but battles remain. Battles that we have to fight, battles which we will win. I have faith in you – we will see the end to this night as well and one day, we will have peace.

“Till then, I say to you. We have our freedom and we have our forest. That is enough for the rest will fall into place – we will make so.”

Again Thranduil paused for the thunderous agreement made further speech impossible. The Wood-elves would win. How could they not when there was so much spirit in them?

“Let this night be a new beginning for us all. We have fought for our lives, for our very existence. We have fought for our forest and we have won. From this day on let us fight for peace – for the right to live for what we have forfeited so much for. I do not know when this fight will end or how long it will take, but end it shall and victory will be ours.

“How can it not, when we have overcome so much already? We have been to the lands of Mordor itself and come back to our Trees.” Thranduil waved a hand in Legolas’ direction, much to his acute embarrassment.

“We have made friends with the most unlikeliest of creatures in the process as well. Who would have thought that one day a Dwarf would be able to count an Elven Prince as one of his dear friends? If we can do that, then what are a few thousand orcs or so?”

The Wood-elves laughed and Legolas wryly bowed to his father, acknowledging the hit.

“So for all you who look at the shadows and despair, I say to you – do not. This is not the end but a new beginning. Let trouble come, for we will meet it head one as we have always done. Fate will not find the Wood-elves cowering in a corner.

“No matter how dire circumstances seem, remember that shadow has already lost, it just does not seem to have accepted that fact yet. We will make it see its folly soon enough. We will make it see that Eryn Lasgalen is not a place to be taken lightly. For that is what we are – the Forest of the Green Leaves. No longer will we be Mirkwood – a dark place avoided by all. A new Age is upon is and we will face it with pride and welcome. This is a new beginning for us all – and new beginnings deserve new names.

“So I ask you. Lift your glasses and toast Eryn Lasgalen – our home.”

The Wood-elves all stood up at their King’s words. Raising their glasses they drank deeply to their homes, to their forest, to new beginnings – to Eryn Lasgalen.

The four Avari too stood up and drank. But what they drank to was a little less clear.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 3 – The Feast

Thranduil’s words had let loose a maelstrom such as Rhinure had never seen. There was such fierceness in the Wood-elves’ joy that no longer did it seem like mere joy, at least no joy that Rhinure had ever felt. Anger this consuming, even pain this cutting, she was familiar with; but joy equally mixed with sorrow and all the stronger for it – that was alien to her as the elf sitting by the King’s side.

Rhinure stole a glance at Legolas as he turned to speak to Thranduil. She could not help it. As their eyes met, she drew in a sharp breath. His eyes were so blue, glittering like a summer sky at high noon. And like that clear sky, they were painful to look at.

Rhinure looked down, breaking contact first. She could no more look at Legolas when he was in such a mood than she could stare at the naked sun. Both had a painful brightness that could not be withstood. It was meant to be appreciated, even basked in but from a distance. Staying in the sun for too long only caused one to burn. One’s presence made no difference to the sun, just as Rhinure’s presence made no difference to a Prince amidst his people.

Rhinure found breathing to be an arduous task. She felt as if someone had put a burning rock on her chest and now was pushing it into her bare skin. She did not know how long she could keep maintaining her public façade like this. All she wanted to do was go to her room, close the curtains against any light, and sleep. Maybe tomorrow things would make sense.

Legolas chose that very moment to look at her again, causing Rhinure to lose breath again.

*~ Or maybe things will never make sense again. ~*

How could he be so happy and still so unhappy at the same time?

“Mistress?”

Rhinure took a deep breath, past the heaviness that clogged her throat, drawing strength from that cool and oh-so-familiar voice. She was not alone amongst these strange elves, alone and helpless. Never that, never helpless. As long as she had Cothion she would not be alone. He would protect her from them all, for she was Avari.

“Yes, Commander?”

“It is time you introduced me to the King.” That voice – that calculating tone – that, too, was familiar and it begged the question: who would protect her from him?

Rhinure turned to her Heir and nodded. “It is time.”

Her voice was calm once more and her breath flowed easily again. She would take care of herself, she would protect herself. She was all she needed – all that she had ever needed.

When Thranduil turned to look at the hand resting on his arm, for a moment he felt as if it were as cold as ice. “Yes, child?”

“My Lord, may I present my Heir, Cothion.”

Thranduil turned to look more fully at the dark elf sitting next to his son’s wife, shifting from his genial host façade to one most often seen when he sat in judgement. The change would have been frightening in its speed if the Avari had been anyone other than Cothion. The old commander had been prepared for it. The King he could deal with; he had been steeped in intrigue and danger until they had seeped into the pores of his skin. It was the elf, the father, the loving dictator he was uncertain around.

This fey elf with his speculative green eyes was no problem compared to the green-eyed, golden-haired elf who looked at even the Avari with compassion.

“Lord Cothion – King Thranduil.”

Cothion bowed to the King, making even that humble act seem like a favour bestowed. Thranduil had to admire the ease with which this Avari handled himself. He had been doing this for a long time, much longer than Rhinure. Unlike her, he had mastered the stillness that prevented one from seeing what he thought or felt. With his eyes so carefully blank, this elf had seen much in a long life. Thranduil knew that with a certainty that came from seeing such eyes in the mirror.

While Rhinure’s reticence sometimes spoke of withdrawal and a need to protect herself, Cothion’s was a boon granted. It was a curtain courteously drawn over all the ugliness in the world so that others might be spared. It was distance the one kept so that others could not see the wounds one carried. 

Thranduil frowned internally as he looked from Rhinure to Cothion. Why was Rhinure Sacrifice when Cothion was so obviously available and capable of taking on the burden of rule? It was as if the Wood-elves had chosen Legolas to be King even when Thranduil was there. It was deliberate – and cruel.

Thranduil returned the greeting with regal interest, making his bow seem warm and inviting, pointing out that no one was below his interest – even an elf such as Cothion.

“May I, too, present my Heir – Prince Legolas.”

On cue, Legolas, who had been watching the introduction with great interest, bowed. But this greeting had no welcome in it. It barely remained on the correct side of polite. Rhinure’s claim on this Avari had been a little too freely admitted for his liking. Never had she introduced any other Avari as her anything – not even her own uncle; but this Cothion rated that elusive connection.

Cothion straightened at the Prince’s thinly veiled antagonism “A pleasure to meet you, Prince.” Leave it to an Avari to make that gentlest of emotions sound like a rabid insult.

“That pleasure is all mine.” Not that Prince Legolas was incapable of returning the compliment.

For a moment, the two elves glared at each other – one with active dislike and the other with disdainful indifference. Rhinure allowed it for just a little longer. Let Cothion learn that it was not easy to keep one’s composure around this Scion from the House of Oropher. She deliberately let her husband and Heir antagonise each other, knowing that this would only help her later – at least with Cothion.

Only when she was certain she had enough rope to hang her Commander did she intervene. Gently placing her hand on Cothion’s arm, she drew his attention to her, breaking that charged tableau.

“Commander, attend to me.”

Like the well-trained soldier he was, Cothion immediately heeded her words. “As my Mistress commands me.”

Thranduil watched Rhinure divert Cothion’s attention away from Legolas to her. He could not hear what they said, Rhinure was careful about that, but it was obvious that she was giving him instructions, unpleasant ones – but he would obey. That, too, was obvious.

And perhaps that was Thranduil’s answer as well. Rhinure ruled because she would be obeyed.  The Avari would follow her and she was willing to let them. Perhaps that readiness to assume responsibility was what made her the ruler and Cothion the ruled.

Legolas stirred beside the king, clearly unhappy at the intimate conversation between his wife and Cothion.

“Let it be, Legolas.”

“I cannot, Adar. She is my wife.” Legolas did not pretend to misunderstand what Thranduil was referring to.

 “Let it be. This is not the time.”

“As my King commands,” Legolas acquiesced, a bit sullenly.

Thranduil, too, ruled because he would be obeyed. 

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The feast progressed smoothly enough. The Wood-elves were mostly ignorant of the tension at the high table and those who were aware, really did not care. Tonight was about celebration; there would be time enough for politics tomorrow.

Legolas, too, heeded his King’s advice for the most part. The matter could rest for now. He would deal with his wife later, preferably in the privacy of their rooms where he could remove that offending flower from her hair and kiss her until he was sure she did not think of anything else. Everything could wait until he got her alone.

With that decided, Legolas made a considerable effort to be cheerful and pleasant to all around him. He chatted with the elf seated next to him with great amiability though he could not be sure who exactly he was talking to. All in his vicinity commented that the Prince was at his most charming tonight. The ellyth he favoured with a smile and a nod could not help but rapturously agree.

Thranduil watched this virtuoso performance with pride and considerable amusement. He was sure that Legolas had convinced everyone, including himself, that all was right with him now. The way he set out to beguile all near him reminded Thranduil of himself when he was younger. Of course, Legolas was better at it. He was able to put people at their ease, drawing them out into conversation, getting them to confide in him what they would not confide to their loved ones. He was a kindred spirit to all without any realising that they knew very little of the core that made up Legolas.

With his all too innocent blue eyes and ready smile, there were not many who Legolas could not captivate. While he did not have the charisma of his formidable father, he could still charm a Wood-elf out of his tree.

Of course, he had charisma to spare when it came to the ladies. His son was turning out to be an accomplished flirt, Thranduil thought with a mischievous delight. Just like his father. His mother would have shaken her head in mock despair if she were here tonight.

And she too would not have missed the quick glances in Rhinure’s direction. She too would have frowned in worry when, no matter how pretty the elleth was, Legolas compared her to his wife at least once. Like Thranduil, Eruante would have noticed all the frowns, the anger and the frustration Legolas hid from the others when he found Rhinure’s dark head bent towards Cothion’s. He seemed determined to prove that like his wife, he too could ignore all that he wished.

But Thranduil saw the question in those blue eyes – a question that he wanted the answer to himself – what were Rhinure and Cothion speaking about?

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“They are different, are they not?”

Rhinure cocked her head at Cothion’s thoughtful tone. “Is that a question or an observation?”

“More of a statement of fact.”

Both Avari turned to watch the elves feasting. With the food almost gone they were talking more than eating. The entire Hall reverberated with the sound of their laughter; so much so that Rhinure was tempted to cover her ears. All her life, laughter and weeping were both done in private and quietly so that none might intrude. To watch the Wood-elves, to hear them, felt vaguely obscene. It felt like intruding on an intensely personal moment but not having the decency to turn away. The voyeurism of it all made this whole night uncomfortable – and a little thrilling.

“Yes they are. Perhaps too different.”

There was a trace of sadness in Rhinure’s voice which caused Cothion to turn back to her. “Admitting defeat so soon, Mistress?”

“Stating more of a fact, Commander.” Rhinure threw Cothion’s words back a little maliciously.

Cothion nodded once, not really believing her but not wanting to make an issue about it either. Suddenly, it did not seem worth it. In the midst of all this strangeness, Rhinure was all he had – she was home.

“Do you think we were once like this, Commander?”

“Do you wish we were?”

“Does it matter if I did? We are not like them.”

“It matters if you wish we were.”

“To whom?”

“To you of course. It is how you feel.”

“And therefore irrelevant to you. What I feel …”

 “Is your own concern,” Cothion finished on cue. He paused for a moment, before continuing, “Do you wish we were like them?”

Rhinure shook her head. Cothion would not give up – impertinent or not he would have an answer. “I will answer if you answer me first.”

“Once, a long time ago – when we were naïve and a lot more innocent – I believe we were like this. We were all quendi then.”

“And we are quendi no longer?”

“Now we are Avari and Eldar – the Unwilling and the Faithful – lesser elves and high elves. In the midst of all of that there is no space for just being quendi.”

“But we are all quendi underneath it all. Deep inside, we are all the same, are we not?”

“The Avari are nothing like these elves. What we once were – what these elves were – does not change who we have become. Yes, we are all quendi but that word has little meaning now. We are Avari and they are not.”

“Might not we look for similarities, no matter how slight, instead of at the differences that are so obvious?”

“If you wish to spend your time ignoring the obvious then you are no longer worthy of being my Mistress,” said Cothion sharply. He did not like the way this conversation was heading. He did not like the wistfulness in Mistress’ tone and he did not like the feeling that somehow she was judging him against the Wood-elves – one in particular – and finding him lacking. 

“And perhaps it would not be as much of a waste as you believe,” replied Rhinure contemplatively.

“Mistress, do you wish we were like these Eldar?”

“So blunt. Where is all your circumspection now, Commander?” Rhinure did not turn around to face Cothion, keeping her eyes on the crowd. She felt far removed from all around her, as if she were watching all this from a great distance, a distance she would never be able to bridge. That distance lent her courage to speak about things which had been plaguing her for so long – things she would never have said in front of Cothion otherwise.

“You and I had a bargain. I answered your question and now you must answer mine.”

“They are beautiful in their own way, are they not?” Rhinure asked.

Cothion did not reply since he did not see the point to the question.

“I think they are beautiful. And they seem happy – much happier than I have ever seen the Avari be. If being like them makes – made – us happy, then what is the harm in it?” Rhinure finished quietly.

What harm indeed? Briefly, Cothion was at a loss as to how he should reply. Was there anything wrong in wishing for the happiness of their people, even if it meant being like this?

“Perhaps you do not see the harm now, Mistress, but being like these elves would hurt us all the more in the long run. For an ephemeral moment of happiness, we cannot wish for an eternity of pain,” Cothion answered gently.

“Why will we alone be hurt? Why are the Avari so weak that they cannot brave what these Wood-elves can? Why is our future so dire and theirs is not?” Rhinure demanded.

“The Avari are not weak,” Cothion answered harshly, pride stung by her words. “We are just less naïve. Let these elves live without a care for the future – we know the pain and the sorrow that is part of the time to come. We have always known. Let them rejoice and foolishly waste what they feel. Let them squander what is most precious of all as if it were worth nothing. The Avari are more careful of what they feel.

“You look at them, Mistress and wish we were like them for you forget that all happiness is temporary. Joy is not a feeling, it is just an absence of sorrow. In the end, what we remember – what we take with us, is pain. And should we not keep that close to the heart? Why share that with others?”

Rhinure bowed her head, knowing Cothion’s words to be true. She had just wished it were not so – that the Avari too could feel what these Wood-elves felt without having to suffer in the future. But everything came with a price. And the Avari had learnt that for every happiness they opened their heart to, sorrow would visit them tenfold.

“Dil hai to phir dard ho ga,” whispered Rhinure too low for anyone to hear.

(If you have a heart, then it will hurt)

“Dard hai to dil bhi ho ga,” Cothion added for it seemed his thoughts followed the same direction as hers.

(If it hurts, then you must have a heart).

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

As the last remains of the meal were taken out of the Hall by the servants, Thranduil glanced once more at his daughter by marriage. If anyone had asked, he would have told them that he was worried about her. Without cause, she had fallen into silence and seemed in no hurry to come out of it. There was a wistfulness, a vulnerability, in that silence that tugged at his father’s heart.

“Was the dinner not to your liking, sell nín?”     (My daughter)

Rhinure turned, and for the smallest of seconds, Thranduil thought he saw pain in those eyes. He wondered who had hurt this child so badly and then had never bothered to soothe it away. “The dinner was superbly prepared.”

“But it did not tempt you enough. You did not eat much.”

“I was not particularly hungry.”

Thranduil placed his hand over Rhinure’s, “Child, you have been travelling, you have not eaten since you arrived, and still you say you are not hungry?”

“Yes. How did you know that I have not eaten since I returned?”

Thranduil smiled, “I do know what happens in my own Palace.” He paused to let his words sink in before he added, “Besides, I know that Legolas did not let you leave his rooms until late. And I highly doubt that either of you had enough time to dine.”

“You are correct that we did not have time to eat.”

“Then you have not eaten and should be hungry.”

“Unfortunately, I am not.”

“Is anything wrong, little one?”

Rhinure almost jerked at the endearment; it was Morion’s particular way of referring to her. Her voice when she answered was even softer than before, causing Thranduil to strain to hear her. “Nothing out of the ordinary. The ordinary causes problems enough, my Lord.”

Thranduil turned when he heard the first strains of music. The musicians had started playing, signalling an end to the Feast and the start to the dancing. Elves had risen from their seat and impatiently milled about the dance floor. It was custom for the King to open the floor by leading the first dance. When the Queen had been in residence, it had been a matter of course that Thranduil danced with her. But after her departure, it became a singular honour for the King to choose one of the other she-elves to dance the first dance.

Tonight the speculation reached greater intensity than ever before. Would the King ask the Princess to dance? Many thought it likely that he would; she was the closest thing to a Queen that Eryn Lasgalen had. But even that smallest of uncertainty made for interesting conversation while they waited.

Rhinure looked up with well-concealed surprise when Thranduil offered her his hand. “May I have this dance, my Lady?”

“I do not dance,” she said chillingly.

“You will dance this one, my Lady. My people are expecting it,” Thranduil insisted firmly.

Rhinure looked around to see many elves holding held their breaths to see what she would do. Reluctantly placing her hand in the King’s, she let him lead her onto the dance floor. Elves parted to let them through and then closed in around the two elves.

Rhinure faced the King, placing an arm on his shoulder. “Will they watch us this closely throughout the dance?”

Thranduil smiled as opening strains of the music signalled the start of the waltz. “It is customary for the King and the Queen to open the dancing as the elves watch.”

Rhinure stiffened, “I am not the Queen.”

“That you are not,” Thranduil said a little sadly. Rhinure was a pretty elleth and he could understand why his son was so entranced by her, but she was not Eruante. Though he was passing fond of this stubborn daughter, at this point, he would have given anything to have his wife in his arms. “But since she is not here, you will have to do.”

Rhinure’s eyes blazed in anger, “I will not be some replacement for a she-elf who did not have the courage to stay where she belonged.”

Thranduil’s arms tightened painfully around Rhinure’s waist, “Careful, Princess. You are my son’s wife, and I would not hurt him by having anything happen to you, but do not test my patience by insulting my wife. She was one of the bravest, most noble persons, I knew. She left because she had no other choice. Do not belittle the pain she went through or our loss.”

“She left, did she not? She is not here to fulfil the duties that a Queen must, forcing you to use a poor substitute, and you still defend her? My Lord, I did not think you so blind.”

“I can understand why Legolas has such problems with you. You will not back down, will you?” Thranduil asked wonderingly, amazed that Rhinure would so casually ignore his warning. The girl had too much spirit sometimes and much too much lip most of the time.

“Never, my Lord.”

*~ I will break but I will not surrender. ~*

“This is not some battle. All I ask is for you to respect my wife and my Queen. She had given much to her people and her family and that in itself is worthy of your admiration.”

“And what of what she had taken?”

Thranduil started at the raw anguish he heard in her voice. This was not some question designed to antagonise him. This was a bitter accusation. “What did Eruante ever do to you? Why such anger towards her?”

“It is irrelevant now, my Lord. It happened a long time ago.”

“Surely not if you feel so strongly about it still. Tell me.”

Rhinure shook her head. “If I am to honour your Queen then I ask you honour my privacy. I will not talk about this subject any more, my Lord.”

 Thranduil nodded, though privately he marked this incident carefully. He would find out what Rhinure was hiding. Somehow he would hunt down the information – but not right now. “You know, you remind me of Eruante sometimes.”

“I do not see how, my Lord. She was nothing like me.”

“Yes, she was not too much like you. She was gentle and kind – a kindred spirit to all.”

“And I am not.” There was no sadness or question in that statement. For Rhinure, it was a matter of pride that she was not like Thranduil’s wife. And she hoped she would never be.

“But sometimes I see glimpses in you that remind me of her.”

When Rhinure did not say anything further, Thranduil queried, “You will not ask me to explain further?”

“I have no interest in this conversation. I know I am not like the Queen and your thinking I am is more wishful thinking on your part than anything.”

“Such a vicious little tongue. She must have really hurt you.”

“That is my concern, not yours.”

“So she did hurt you. How?”

Once again the question was met by silence. Thranduil was intrigued. He wondered what would break through that ice wall that surrounded her. Perhaps …

“I wonder what Legolas would say about all this?”

Rhinure’s eyes flew to meet shrewd green ones. “You have nothing to tell him.”

“On the contrary, his mother obviously hurt his wife. That is something he should know, do you not agree?”

“No, I do not. What I feel is none of his concern. If Eruante hurt me, Legolas cannot change that. Why tell him then?”

“Why not tell him if it changes nothing?”

Rhinure took a deep breath to calm herself before answering. “I did not say it would change nothing.” She did not want to involve Legolas in her past. It would only further complicate an already overly complicated situation.

“I will not tell him, but I think you should. Whatever happened between you and Eruante is important to you, and Legolas has a right to know. As his wife, you should not keep such secrets from him.”

“Have you never kept secrets from Legolas that you can ask such a thing from me?”

“Of course I have, but that is different.”

Rhinure smiled bitterly, “So says everyone when they have to justify themselves. A secret is a secret for whatever reason one decides to keep it. The intent does not concern me, only the result; and the result is that you have kept things from Legolas as I have. You have no right to tell me what I should or should not tell him.”

“I am his father and now yours. That gives me all the right I need.”

Rhinure swallowed, “You are not my father.” Then quietly, she added, “I have no father.”

Thranduil’s heart turned over. “Child, if you would only let me, I would make sure you are never able to say that again.”

Rhinure looked up at him with big eyes that shone with something that looked suspiciously like unshed tears. “Why would you want to?” she whispered.

“Because I think you need it. And because I always wanted a daughter.”

“I do not need your pity.”

“Do not scorn what is so generously given, child. It might not be offered again.”

Rhinure turned her face away from the tall elf, willing herself not to cry and disgrace herself in front of all these people. She was obviously more tired than she had realised.

Thranduil spun her around the dance floor as the dance wound to an end. “The offer still stands, little one. And in answer to your earlier question, I will add this – you are special. You bring hope to my son and my people. Why would I not want to be called your father?”

“Perhaps I have been in the dark so long that I can no longer see this light of which you speak. I still do not understand why you make this offer, except perhaps for your son.”

 Thranduil bowed to her as the dance ended. “That is part of it – a big part. I will not deny it; I would do anything for my son, even take a mulish, vitriolic, reckless female into my family.”

“You do not know what you offer.”

“Perhaps I do. Perhaps it is you who does not know what you is refusing.”

As he led her off the dance floor, Rhinure wondered what it would have been like to grow up with Thranduil as a father. What it would have been like to be loved as ferociously as Thranduil loved Legolas? What it would be like to let herself be loved like that?

 Morion’s face flashed before her eyes.

It would be like having Morion back.

Maybe she knew better than most what she was refusing after all.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

By the time Thranduil brought Rhinure back to the dais, she was more confused than she had been at the beginning of the evening. She would have thought it impossible but Thranduil had only added to her worries. When she had entered the Hall, she had only Legolas to worry about and Cothion to be wary of. Now Thranduil was added to both categories.

Why had he made that offer? Did he even know what he had offered to her, how precious it was, how binding?

He could not know. How could he know what family meant to her, how desperately she missed having it? He could not. He just could not. She could not have been that transparent.

The more Rhinure thought about it the more convinced she became: Thranduil must want something out of this offer. If nothing else, he probably expected her to soften towards Legolas. She did not put it past him to buy his son’s happiness by offering himself as bait.

As she took her seat, the shame of the conversation ate through her like a flame through particularly thin paper. Did Thranduil think her so foolish that she would fall for his honeyed words? She did not need a father – she had never needed a father. Especially not one like this Sindar King.

Perchance it was simply bad timing, but when Legolas called to her, he was greeted by the coldest expression he had ever seen. It was so glacial that it physically cut through him, causing him to flinch as if he had burned himself.

“What does my Lord want of me?”

“I wanted to know if you wished to dance with me as well now that you have danced with my father?” Legolas said with determined cheer. He wanted to dance and he wanted to dance with his wife. Seeing the couples hold each other made him want to take Rhinure in his arms as well.

“Is this a request or an order like the one your father gave?”

Legolas started. Why was she being so cruel? “I would not order you, my Lady. This, like everything else, is your prerogative to accept or refuse.”

Very regally Rhinure inclined her head. “Then I will repeat what I said to your father and expect that you will not ignore it as he did – I do not dance.”

By this time, Legolas had had enough. If she was going to behave so peevishly then he would not waste his time with her. There were others he could ask, others who would gladly take the opportunity to spend time with him. “As my Lady wishes. I would not want to force myself on you.”

With a stiff bow Legolas walked into the crowd, leaving Rhinure alone, but no less angry.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“That was silly of you.”

Rhinure glanced at Thranduil who calmly watched Legolas gravitate towards the ellyth impatiently waiting for his attention. “I do not dance and see no reason to pretend that I enjoy such a pastime.”

“But Legolas does, very much so. You could have done it for him; taken pleasure from his pleasure.”

“It would have been no pleasure to dance once more in the middle of the crowd, knowing I am the cynosure of all the eyes in the room. There is no pleasure in that, no matter what Legolas thinks.”

“Ah, that prim little remark makes me realise that you have never danced with someone willingly, and obviously never danced with someone you care for or love.”

Rhinure stiffened in her chair and studiously avoided an answer. Thranduil noted her discomfort and continued as if nothing had happened. “When you dance in the arms of someone you love, you can be in the middle of a large crowd and still feel as if no one exists but you and your partner. Moving with him, sharing with him, can make you forget everything else.”

“But it still does not change that you are in the middle of a crowd. Forgetting or ignoring it only proves carelessness, not a change in circumstance. It is an illusion.”

*~ Like all other rewards you promise. ~*

“And it also does not change the fact that your husband is going to dance with another elleth while you sit and watch from your advantageous position.” Thranduil pointed to Legolas who bowed over the hand of the most lovely Lady Minuial, obviously asking her to dance.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

After leaving Rhinure, Legolas made his way to the cluster of young ellyth determined to find more pleasant female company than the shrew he had just left. He was sure to find at least one female who he would not want to strangle after spending five consecutive minutes with her. If nothing else, they would be pleasing to the eye.

And it did not matter if he had no interest whatsoever in holding them close and covering their mouth with his own, stealing their breath to make it his own. That was still reserved for an obstinate, pitiless elleth whom he did not understand but could not leave alone. If he could not have empathy then he was willing to settle for sympathy. Especially when sympathy was accompanied by a pretty face.

The gaggle of ellyth parted eagerly to let Legolas in, closing around him like the arms of a welcoming lover. He was tall enough for Rhinure to have an exceptional view of him as he greeted the ladies. If that displeased her, then she had only herself to blame.

Legolas was distracted from his musings by the exquisite sight of Lady Minuial. Dressed in a pale pink, with her blondehair loose around her shoulders, she was the perfect picture of feminine beauty. Legolas’ eyes swept across her appreciatively, causing her to blush and smile shyly. Entranced, he stopped his progress and asked her to dance. She, naturally, did not refuse. She, at least, was a well-mannered elleth.

Leading her to the centre of the floor, he placed a gentle hand on her waist, gracefully leading her. She smiled up at him, warming him with the obvious affection in her face. This was how it was supposed to be.

Legolas’ eyes wandered over her face, deriving satisfaction from being near her. They made a beautiful couple and he knew it. He could feel the eyes of the elves on him, and with pride, he squared his shoulders and spun her across the floor.

Slightly breathless, Minuial giggled. “You dance divinely.”

Nonplussed, Legolas automatically smiled and complimented her in return. He wondered what Rhinure would look like if she giggled. Try as he might, he just could not picture it. She was not the sort to delicately cover her mouth and pretend that she was not laughing. When she laughed, that is, if she ever laughed, she would do it with zeal; with commitment, like she did everything.

“You seem distracted tonight, my Lord.”

“Not at all, my Lady. I am just lost in your beauty.”

Minuial smiled and blushed again. “You flatter me, my Lord.”

“And who is more deserving of flattery than you, my Lady? You look exceptionally charming tonight.”

“You really think so? I made such an effort but I did not think I succeeded. You have made me so happy. But you really think so?”

“Of course, I would not say it otherwise.”

Minuial smiled happily but the smile wobbled when Legolas frowned. For a moment, that gallant mask slip and she saw the Prince beneath it – the warrior, the commander. His power brushed her and she shivered in apprehension. She did not like the way he was looking at her hair. It frightened her.

“What is wrong, my Prince? Have I done anything to displease you? What may I do to correct my mistake?”

Legolas shook his head, clearing it of the thoughts that boiled in it. He was scaring the poor girl. She actually believed that she had done something wrong. She could not know that his anger was directed at something completely different. “Forgive me, my Lady. My thoughts wandered somewhere disagreeable. You have done nothing wrong.”

Legolas kissed her palm, and smiled into her blue eyes causing her to instantly forget her fear and that unsettling glimpse.

“But I will make one suggestion.”

“Please do, my Lord.”

“You should not wear roses in your hair. They are horrid flowers.” Legolas removed the pink bloom from Minuial’s hair, crushing it in his palm.

“As you wish, my Lord.” Minuial’s voice wavered uncertainly but Legolas’ smile put even those misgiving to rest. The conviction that he thought of someone else and was not happy about it, melted away as he moved closer and smiled that smile at her.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The rest of the night passed as well, with Legolas dancing with many and Rhinure dancing with none. She spent the rest of the celebration keeping one eye on Cothion and the other on her husband, who seemed to choose only the prettiest ellyth to pay any attention to.

How she managed both, she was not sure, but she did it. Now she was tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep, wake up in the morning and realise that this night had never happened.

As the last of the guests left the Hall, Legolas suddenly re-appeared at her elbow. Looking at his face, Rhinure was convinced that neither one of her wishes was going to be fulfilled. He seemed angry – with just cause, she admitted – but must he make such an issue about it? She could not take back her words, not that she wanted to. She did not dance and not even her husband could make her like it.

As she and Legolas took their leave from the King, his hand clamped down on her arm, steering her towards his room. Though the pressure was painful, she did not comment except to say, “If you would tell me where we are headed, my Lord, I would follow. I am able to walk, in case you have forgotten.”

“I remember all too clearly, my Lady. I have seen you walk away from me all too often to forget. I am just ensuring that you cannot do so this time.”

Legolas let Rhinure precede him into the room, blocking the entrance from the following Avari. They opened their mouths to protest but Legolas cut them off. “You have no place in here. If you know what is wise, you will wait outside here for you Mistress.”

“She is our Sacrifice; we will not let her be harmed,” Cothion bit out through a clenched jaw.

“I am her husband. What I do to her is between us.” Legolas smiled viciously; he did not like this Avari. “And it is none of your concern.” With great pleasure, he slammed the door in the Avari faces.

“If you wish to wait, I suggest that you make yourself comfortable. This will take a while.”

The Avari turned to see Herenion lounging against a pillar. As three pairs of eyes narrowed, he shrugged and added, “You do not have to take my advice, but I have seen the Prince in a similar mood before. This will take some time.”

“Will he hurt her?” asked Ehtewen.

Herenion straightened and crossed his arms, “Perhaps the more relevant question is, will she hurt him? He is a Sindar Prince, the son of Thranduil. She has nothing to fear from him.”

Istion said nothing, letting the older elves have their little battle of words. Though his thoughts stayed with his Mistress, he could not help but think how untrue Herenion’s words were. Mistress had much to be afraid of.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 4 – Power and Promises

“Would you like to take a seat?”

Rhinure blinked at those courteous words. After watching Legolas slam the door, cutting her off from her Avari, Rhinure had expected to be inundated by angry words and accusations. Instead, Legolas had turned around, leaned back against the wall, folded his arms, and silently watched her. Not to be outdone, she had returned his scrutiny with equanimity, keeping her eyes locked with his. But these words, so unexpected, threw her.

“I do not believe so. I am fine where I am.”

Legolas pushed himself off the wall and advanced towards her. “Sit, my Lady. This will take some time and I would not want you to get tired.”

“Then why do we not continue this in the morning, after I have rested?” Rhinure asked sweetly.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Legolas made a complete circuit around her before answering. “I think not. We will talk now.”

Rhinure followed his movement through the corner of her eyes, taking care not to move. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her unnerved. “As you wish, my Lord. But we are not talking about anything at the moment.”

Legolas stopped in front of her, “Did Cothion give you that?”

“Give me what?”

Legolas lightly touched the rose in Rhinure’s hair. “This.”

Rhinure nodded. “Yes, he did. Do you like it?”

Legolas stroked the bright flower. “It is lovely. Still …”

Rhinure frowned, “Still?”

“Still, I do not like it in your hair.”

Legolas moved to pull the rose out of her hair, but Rhinure was faster. Her hand clamped down on his. “That was a gift, my Lord. Before you presume to take it away, ask me.”

“Presume?” Legolas’ fist closed around the bloom, crushing the petals. “Am I not your husband? Are my preferences always to be ignored?”

“Am I not your wife? Are my preferences to be ignored?” Rhinure shot back. “Let it go, my Lord.”

Legolas opened his fist and Rhinure stepped back. She turned to the mirror to find that the bloom had been ruined. Its petals fell like silent tears and its stalk had obviously been snapped. Rhinure could wear it no longer.

Rhinure gently removed it from her hair and said softly, “You got your wish, my Lord.”

Legolas glanced at the dark head, bent over one insignificant flower that had caused so much trouble already and he sighed. “I am sorry,” he said softly, though he was not. If Rhinure had not stopped him he would have squeezed that flower until all the anger she had caused tonight had left him. He would have squeezed until nothing of that flower remained.

Rhinure turned her back on Legolas. “Why do you do things for which you will have to apologise? This was a gift. Even you admitted it was lovely, yet you did not want me to wear it. May I never have something that is attractive?” she demanded, hands still cradling the broken flower.

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” Legolas stepped forward, horrified that she could even think, let alone articulate such a thought.

“Why did you want me to remove the flower?”

“I did not like it.”

“Why? It was just a bloom. I have seen you give many a rose to other ellyth. What was so wrong with this one, that I could not have it?”

“What was wrong was that I did not give it to you!” Legolas exploded, causing Rhinure to take an involuntary step back.

“I did not give it to you,” Legolas repeated a little sadly.

“I do not understand, my Lord. What difference does it make if you did not give it to me? It still looked good in my hair, did it not?”

Legolas smiled warily. “It looked beautiful. You looked beautiful. And every time I looked at you, I was reminded that someone else had seen what I did not.”

Rhinure cocked her head, getting more confused by the minute. What had Cothion seen that Legolas had not? When Cothion had given her the flower he had said it was a reminder that she could be beautiful. That she, too, could be a jewel like the Eldar. Was Legolas referring to that reminder?

“Legolas …”

At the sound of his name, Legolas looked up and Rhinure was appalled to see the hurt in his eyes. Without willing it, she stepped forward and gathered him to her. Though she did not want to deal with this emotional storm, even now her heart thudded in nervousness and the beginnings of panic, she could not leave Legolas.

Legolas clutched at her, for having her near was the only thing that could block out his pain – and his sadness. “I should have been the one to give you that flower. I should have been the one to place it in your hair so that all would know what I know – that you are beautiful.”

Rhinure swallowed, Legolas’ words affected her more than she cared to admit, even to herself. If Legolas thought her beautiful and thought that the rose highlighted that, then why was he so angry?

“Then … why, my Lord? I do not understand.”

“Do you not?” Legolas raised his head from her shoulder and looked at her with the utmost scepticism.

Rhinure frowned, “Are you implying that I am lying? You wound me, my Lord.”

“I sincerely doubt that anything could,” Legolas said bitterly.

Rhinure took a sharp breath and calmly continued. “I do not lie, my Lord. Now, would you care to explain what your trouble with me is?”

Legolas smiled, a joyless, pitiful thing. One hand moved up Rhinure’s back and lightly caressed her head before moving down. “Are you really that oblivious, hervess nín? Did you not see how jealous I was tonight?”

Rhinure blinked and instinctively let Legolas go. This much emotion was uncomfortable. She had to get out of here, she had to think this through, she had to get herself under control, she had to … she must …

“Rhinure, do you have nothing to say?” Legolas asked softly as he tipped her head back so that she was looking up at him.

“You were jealous?” Rhinure repeated in wonder.  She would have never thought that anyone would be resentful over her and Cothion. She had never thought anyone would have been jealous over her at all.

“Did I just not say that?”

“You have no cause to be jealous.”

“Do I not? You and Cothion obviously share an intimate relationship. A relationship which is deeper than the one you have with me.”

“I have known him all my life, my Lord. Did you expect anything different?”

Legolas thought about it carefully before answering. “I suppose I did,” he said finally.

When Rhinure made a move to object, Legolas placed a restraining finger on her mouth. “Hear me out.” He waited until she nodded and only then did he continue. “I have known, intellectually, that you come from a culture, a tradition – a life – which I am not a part of. You have known many elves before me and you will know many after me.”

“There will be no elf after you,” Rhinure interrupted, unable to let him continue without saying something – anything.

Legolas smiled, absurdly pleased at that statement, feeling as if it almost made up for the entire night. Closing his arms around her, he rested his head atop hers. “You come with a past that I know little, if anything, about. You are different from me; you have different tastes from mine. You like things I do not and dislike things I do. I knew this when I made you mine, but to be reminded of it so vividly tonight was a little more than I could tolerate.”

“But I am yours, my Lord. And though you do not share my past, you are my future.”

*~ More than you realise. ~*

Legolas’ hand travelled up her back to rest on her nape, keeping her head near his though she made no move to withdraw. “Obviously it is not enough of a future. You still keep so much from me that nights like this are only the symptoms of a greater ill. How can we build anything together when we cannot share the simplest of things?”

“What simple thing do you speak of?”

“Why did you not dance with me? What could be simpler than that?”

“Simple to be in a middle of a room where all eyes stare at us, judge us?”

“It would not be that way.”

“It would not, cannot be any other way. Do you not see the way they talk? The way they whisper behind polite hands raised in greeting? Do you not see the way people watch you when you walk into a room? The way they watch me standing next to you? The pity in their eyes is unbearable.”

“Why would they pity you?”

“They pity you, my Lord. Because I am your wife.”

Legolas shook his head in denial. He would not accept such a simplistic explanation for such a selfish reaction. Rhinure had not been afraid of anything before, why should she be wary now? “Since when have you cared what other people think? Do they not have the right to feel as they wish? If they pity me, then why does that affect your actions? Or is it that despite all your fine philosophy, Rhinure, you are not as invulnerable as you think?”

Rhinure wanted to deny his words but what could she say? Even now, the memories of the sympathetic glances in Legolas’ direction made her want to scream – or hide, especially from the knowing look Legolas was giving her at the moment. Rhinure remained silent, for to say anything would only confirm his assertion.

But to say nothing would be as damning.

Confused, Rhinure moved out of Legolas’ arms, conscious of his eyes following her as she walked across his room.

When Rhinure finally stopped, Legolas moved forward to embrace her again, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against him. “Why do you not want to be with me, my Lady?”

Rhinure forgot the answer she was about to make as Legolas freed her hair and then kissed the dark mass.

“Do you want to be with me, as I do with you?”

“Yes,” Rhinure managed as Legolas’ talented mouth moved to her ear.

“Then why do you hide from me?”

“Hide what, my Lord?”

“Everything. Yourself, what you are beneath that hard shell.” Legolas nibbled lightly on her ear tip, causing her to gasp. “Do you lie to me, Rhinure?”

At this point, Legolas could have asked her anything and Rhinure would have said yes, so it was not too surprising when she answered in the affirmative.

“Why?”

“Because I must.”

Legolas turned Rhinure around, first kissed her cheek and then followed the line of her jaw down, taking care to avoid her mouth. “Tell me.”

“What would you know?”

“Everything.”

“There is not enough time to tell you everything.”

“Attempt it nonetheless.”

It was at this point that Legolas made the mistake and stopped kissing her. That reprieve combined with the look in his eyes gave Rhinure the shock she needed to come to her senses.

“Perhaps the attempt should wait.”

“Tell me, Rhinure.” This time Legolas’ voice was hard with determination.

“First, you tell me all that you keep from me.”

Legolas’ arms fell away and Rhinure was quick to put some distance between them for without that she would not be able to serve her people.

“I keep nothing from you.”

“And you accused me of being a liar. You keep as much from me as I from you. To assert anything else would be a bald lie, not worthy of you, my Prince.”

Legolas sighed and tried a different approach. “I was not referring to affairs of state. I was of talking of the way things stand between you and me – our relationship.”

“Duty comes before all; I know this and would never use it against you. What you do for your people, you must. As a prince what you hide from me – you must.” Rhinure had to pause to swallow for she found her voice beginning to waver alarmingly. “I know this, but that is not what I am referring to.

“You want me to tell you everything that lies in my heart. Lay bare all my secrets where they may be exploited, but you will not do the same. Do you not keep things away from me, deep inside you heart and mind? Things you do not wish to tell me – things that you cannot tell me?”

Legolas looked away from those intense burning eyes and struggled to keep calm. For a moment, just the tiniest of moments, he heard the loud sound of waves crashing against rocks and everything was overwhelmed. Then, mercifully, Rhinure’s voice brought him back to himself and all was right again.

“Perhaps.”

Rhinure fell silent. She had known as much, everyone hid things but she was surprised at how much it hurt to hear Legolas say those words. But then, to drive home her point, and prove to herself that she was not so weak to avoid this issue, she continued, “Will you tell me what you keep from me?”

“One day.”

*~Only when I must. ~*

“Then how can you ask me to do what you will not?”

Legolas turned back to her, not remembering when he had turned away. “This is not the same thing, Rhinure.”

“Why not?”

“Whatever I keep from you does not prevent me from trying to make this marriage work. Whatever you do, does.”

Rhinure’s hand clutched at her stomach, smarting from that unexpected blow. “That was unfair, my Lord. I try, you just ask for too much.”

“Like when I asked you to dance?”

“Like when you asked me to dance, yes. Why could you not accept that I did not want to?”

“I did, but I did not let it stop me either.” Legolas stepped forward, causing Rhinure to step back, keeping the distance between them constant. “I will not let your refusals ruin my life, my Lady.”

The injustice of that remark caused Rhinure to stop retreating. One refusal to dance had ruined his life? And what of how he was destroying hers with his very public insistence? How he was hurting her when flirting with all others … except her?

“Tonight, when I refused to dance you did not try to convince me otherwise.”

Legolas started at the anger in his wife’s voice, “You would not have changed your mind.”

“You managed to seduce virtually every ellyth in the room tonight. Do you think I am so different, so unnatural, that you did not even try with me?”

“You are different. Unlike all the other ellyth, you would not have fallen for my empty words and smile,” Legolas stated with sad conviction.

“I might have liked to, given the opportunity,” Rhinure whispered.

 Words failing, Legolas stepped forward and clasped Rhinure’s hand in his. “Rhinure … if I had asked, again and then perhaps again, would you have consented?”

“We will never know now, will we?”

“If I ask you now, will you give in?” Legolas asked stepping in even closer until each breath caressed her face.

His nearness combined with his words made it difficult for her to concentrate. The warmth of his hand stole through her arm, making her aware of how cold the rest of the room was. She suppressed the shiver that ran through her but, obviously, she was not too successful for Legolas pulled her against him, gathering her hand in both of his and cradling it against his chest.

“Rhinure, be my friend.”

When she said nothing he asked again, “Rhinure, let me be your friend.”

Dazed, Rhinure looked up from where her hand was held captive, into Legolas’ eyes. “What would you have me say?”

“You would say what I wish?” Legolas asked softly.

Rhinure glanced back as Legolas slowly ran his thumb across her palm. “I do not know. Maybe.”

“Then say yes. Let me be your friend.”

“You are my husband. Is that not enough?”

“When you say that, what do you mean?”

 “I do not understand.”

“When you say I am your husband and that should be enough, what do you mean by that? What is my role in your life?”

“You are my bonded. You hold my Honour and Honour is all. You are my all.”

“Then why do you hesitate so when I ask for just your friendship?”

“I do not hesitate. I just do not know why you ask for so little when I have given you everything.”

“The very fact that you think it so little means you do not understand the word.”

Rhinure frowned, “Explain.”

“To be a friend is to be honest, to share, to sympathise, to be there in times of joy or sorrow. It is to sometimes do things that you do not like only because your friend does. Are you my friend, Rhinure?”

“What can I say to those words, my Lord? They are meaningless as any words can be. I am your wife. Those words mean more to me than any friendship can or ever will mean.

“To be a wife is to be beyond sympathy, beyond joy or sorrow – beyond friendship – beyond that point where comparisons lose their meaning for there can be no comparison. To be a wife is to be beyond measure. You who value friendship so highly, are you my husband?”

“I would like to be. Can you say as much in answer to my question?” Before Rhinure could answer Legolas continued, “You cannot. By your own admission, you lie to me. How can we have any relationship if you cannot tell me what you think, what you feel?”

“Enough. Since we have entered this room you have flung these accusations at me when you are as guilty as I am. You ask to be my friend, you ask me to be honest, you ask me to be sympathetic – always you are asking.”

“And you never answer,” Legolas shot back.

“There can be no answer. I cannot give you what you want.”

“Why not?” Legolas shook Rhinure in frustration.

“For you hide things from me too. And it hurts,” Rhinure bit out, clasping his arms to steady herself. Her eyes widened as she heard her unconsidered words. She had not lost control of herself in front of another in a long time and it still shamed as much.

Legolas, too, was shocked at her words. He blinked and wondered if he had heard incorrectly

Rhinure shifted under his arms, trying to break free without having to struggle. “Legolas …”

So soft, his name on her lips. Legolas just tightened his grip, not willing to let her flee just yet. He had to know - had she meant what she had said?

“Legolas, let me go.”

“No.”

“Please, I wish to go to my room.”

Legolas ignored what Rhinure was saying and asked softly, “You hurt?”

“Of course. Does not everyone?” Rhinure said coolly but her performance was lost on Legolas.

“Do I hurt you?”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper.

“Did I hurt you tonight?”

Rhinure looked away from him as she nodded weakly, pale cheeks burning with humiliation.

“When I danced with the other ellyth?”

“Yes – as you intended.”

“I know not what you speak of.”

Rhinure turned to look at Legolas. “You cannot deny that you danced with all those ellyth as a reprisal.”

“I danced because I wanted to – and because you would not.”

Rhinure’s eyes glittered with defiance. “Tell me that you did not think of me even once while you danced with them.”

“Of course I thought of you. It should have been you in my arms tonight, not them.” Legolas hands tightened around her shoulders. “I should not have had to go through such agony while you were but two feet away from me.”

“If it was that unbearable, why then did you insist on continuing?” Rhinure asked quietly.

“Because,” Legolas lifted her even closer so that she was standing on her toes, “you would not dance with me.”

Legolas brushed his lips against hers but before he could move away she caught them with hers, asking forgiveness the only way she knew how. “I did not mean to hurt you. It was just that …”

“But you did.”

“Yes, I did. As you did as well.”

“The difference is that I would spare you that pain, if I could.”

Rhinure sighed, “I know. But you cannot.”

“It need not be that way. If we were only more honest with each other, if we only talked about what was going through our heads, instead of keeping silent.”

“You do not want to be inside my head, my Lord. It is an unpleasant place. One that even I am not fond of.”

“I might, given a chance.”

Rhinure bit her lip. “I wish …” and then stopped for she was not sure what she wished for.

“Tell me.”

“I cannot.”

“Trust me.”

“Legolas, do not make this harder than it already is. There are some things best left unsaid between us no matter how we may wish it otherwise.”

“It need not be that way. If you would only trust me …”

Rhinure interrupted, “And if you would trust me this would not be an issue, would it? You would know that I would tell you when I am able.”

“And if you are never able?”

“Never is a long time, my Lord.”

Still surrounded by his arms, this time Rhinure stepped forward, burying her face in his shirt. “You must believe me when I say that I do not like keeping things from you. But I accept that – at least for now – that is how it must be.”

Legolas bent over the dark head, kissing it lightly. “And someday?”

“We have time, my Lord.” *~ I hope. ~* “Who knows what the future holds?”

“You do.”

Rhinure looked up, apprehensive that somehow Legolas had learnt something about the Lost Ones.

“Somehow, I feel that you know more about the future than you are telling me. And that is why you hide.”

“Feelings cannot be trusted, my Lord. They are phantoms, ever shifting, ever deceiving.”

Before Legolas could refute that statement, Rhinure brought his mouth down on hers, ending the need for words. In this, at least, she could be honest. As Legolas took her to bed, she held nothing back and – for now – that was enough for both.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

It was a very tired Legolas who sat erect in his father’s audience chamber, but none who observed him could tell. At least, Rhinure could not; but then she had a lot on her mind just then.

Thranduil had requested Rhinure and her heir, Cothion to join Legolas and him in his chambers for an informal discussion. Though Cothion had been wary of the summons, for no matter how graciously phrased it was nothing less than a command, he had deemed it best if they attend.

*~ As if we had any other choice. ~*

It was at times like this that Rhinure missed Túrgwaith. The First Advisor had a keen eye for the ridiculous, finding it in the unlikeliest of spots. Cothion could be devious with the best of them, but he lacked the First Advisor’s sly sense of observation. Rhinure was certain he would have been amused by Thranduil’s letter.

He definitely would have been tickled by the ever thinning veneer of politeness that hung over the room at the moment.

Legolas and Rhinure had not spoken a word after the formal greetings, both too tired to make any conversation, no matter how trivial. Thranduil and Cothion were more than happy to fill the silence with speculative looks and menacing courtesy. One look at Thranduil was enough to convince Rhinure that Legolas had told him about their conversation last night. She was still uncertain whether to feel shamed that her husband would speak of such private matters or that she had driven him to such a point.

Either way, Thranduil was not pleased with Cothion today. The Commander’s presence in Eryn Lasgalen was a nuisance that, as a father, Thranduil did not appreciate. As a King, Rhinure was less certain of his motives. Cothion was the Avari Heir and Commander, and a useful ally. To antagonise him would not help the Wood-elves any, and Thranduil had to know that.

Now the question was; who would win – the King or the Father? Túrgwaith would have found the question most pertinent.

*~ As should you, Mistress. ~* Rhinure could almost hear the words whispered in her ear. She almost glanced up to see whether the First Advisor had somehow materialised in the room. But she refrained, for she knew that only her guards, Herenion and Arandur stood at attention behind their respective charges.

*~ Legolas’ use as leverage depends on how much of the Father rules the King. ~*

That thought made Rhinure sick. The truth was bitter sometimes, too bitter.

A light touch on her arm shook her from her thoughts.

“Are you well, my Lady?”

Rhinure looked up into concerned blue eyes. “Yes. Just a little tired.”

Legolas gently covered her hand with his own. “Meetings like this do not help, do they?”

“You told your father of our conversation last night.”

“He is my father.”

“Then why are you surprised at this meeting? Did you think the King would ignore what you said?”

Legolas looked at his father who was engaged in some conversation with Cothion. The words were just a pretext for the other to size his opponent. In themselves, they meant nothing. “I guess not.”

“You do not think that what we said should have stayed between us?”

“Why should it when it concerned more than us?”

“My Lord, how much did you tell the King?”

“Enough.”

“Everything?”

Legolas looked back at his wife and his eyes held a promise that made it difficult for Rhinure to concentrate. “Some things are between us and there they will remain.”

Rhinure turned her hand and, with her thumb, gently caressed the fingers still holding hers. “Thank you.”

“Did you afford me the same courtesy?”

Rhinure stiffened at the question and removed her hand, placing it carefully in her lap. “I did not, and will not, speak of last night with anyone. What you and I share – shared – is private … at least, for me.”

“My Lady …” Legolas moved to reclaim her hand, but he had lost her. Something being said between Thranduil and Cothion had reclaimed her attention and the moment was lost.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“I was commenting to my son, before the meeting, about how resourceful the Avari were,” Thranduil said pleasantly.

Cothion nodded in acceptance of that compliment as if it was every day that the King of the Wood-elves complemented the Avari commander. His polite reply determinedly ignored the hidden condescension beneath that statement. “We are most resourceful. Was there something in particular that impressed you, or were you commenting in general?” There, he had left an opening for the King to say openly what he had been hinting at for so long now.

“The Avari attitude in general is worthy of astonishment.” Thranduil smiled, stressing the last word such that Cothion was unsure whether he meant it as a positive attribute or a slur.

“Take as a small example, the Avari patrolling system.”

“What of our patrols?” Rhinure broke in.

“Welcome back, Princess. I had thought perhaps that my son had managed to completely monopolise your attention.”

Cothion stiffened at the truth in the statement but Rhinure’s slight nod stopped him from answering back.

“Perhaps I monopolised her attention only because nothing was being said here,” said Legolas, blue eyes flashing.

Thranduil’s gaze flew to his son, and there was a measure of hurt in the older elf’s eyes. His son had sided with his wife, it was a minor thing but nevertheless, it stung.

Legolas set his mouth and ignored the surge of guilt Thranduil’s unspoken question evoked in him. That last statement against Rhinure was uncalled for. Whatever Adar did to Cothion, Legolas would welcome it, but he would not stand for Rhinure to be hurt or humiliated unnecessarily.

It seemed as if Thranduil was not the only one surprised at that unexpected defence. Rhinure looked at her husband as if she could not credit the words she had heard. Legolas looked at her defensively, blue eyes silently asking her what he should have done. Thranduil was his father and King, but she was his wife.

In answer, Rhinure found herself melting. She could see how much those simple words had cost Legolas and she appreciated them. More than appreciated them. The realisation that Legolas would defend her, even against his father sometimes, warmed her until she felt she would burst.

*~ So this is what joy feels like. ~*

When Rhinure turned back to the King, the softness that Legolas evoked lingered in her face and the relaxed set of her shoulders. She seemed so happy that Thranduil had to let go of his hurt. He could not be angry when such a small rebellion had brought such happiness to another.

“As I was saying, do the Avari have any new information about the orc incursions?” Thranduil asked kindly.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Cothion watched the interaction between the three other elves at the table with great interest. The Prince’s defence of Mistress greatly pleased the Commander. It showed an attachment to her that had to be carefully cultivated. At least there was something about this marriage working in the Avari’s favour.

What pleased him less was Mistress’ reaction. Those simple words had robbed her of all guile, leaving her more open than he had seen in a long time. The way she spoke, the way she answered the King’s question, without circumspection and with a trust that seemed excessive, made him wary. Mistress was never this amenable, except with a rare few – the children, Istion, on rare occasion, when both saw things the same way, Cothion – and when he had been alive, Morion. Not even Ehtewen, the elleth who had been a surrogate mother to Rhinure, had managed to evoke that softness in her. Of course, that was probably Ehtewen’s fault, the First Guard evoked a lot of feelings; wariness, respect – fear, but gentleness was not one of them.

Cothion was not sure if it was the mild envy he felt at this moment that was causing his unease or something else. That prince had managed to disarm Mistress with a few words, something that had taken Cothion many a decade. Or was it the fear that while Mistress was able to rest when her husband was near, would she be able to fight if needed?

Till now, there was nothing to fight over. Now that the King had stopped making those snide insinuations and asked uncomplicated question about the Fallen, Mistress could answer honestly.

There was not much to tell. With Avari numbers to fill in the gaps in the Wood-elves numbers, fewer and fewer orcs were getting through to the settlements. Nevertheless, the King had moved in the Wood-elves as much as possible without having to abandon the existing borders. It allowed the Border Patrol to worry about less of an area.

With Tirnen closer to the Realm’s borders, the Avari had less problems with the defence of the Clan. Cothion had to admit that Mistress’ plan had been a sound one. With the forces not spread so thin, the Avari could turn their efforts to discovering the how and why behind these attacks.

Unfortunately, they had not met with much success. Beyond the death of the Spy Masters that served as warnings, and a few whispers of the dark ones, of the Lost Ones, the Avari had no more concrete proof of who was behind these attacks than when they had entered into the alliance.

Worse still, they were still uncertain about where and how these raids were being planned. They were still not sure how wide-spread these attacks were. Or how many Fallen they were dealing with. Was the entire remnant of Sauron’s army now turning its awful face towards Mirkwood? Or were they a few stragglers being used as a first wave, before the hidden ones came out to finish the job themselves?

For now, the questions had less urgency as Tirnen’s move had seemed to confuse the Fallen. With the Avari more active in the Wood-elves territory, the enemy could not be certain how many elves it was dealing with. It, like the Wood-elves could not be certain of the Avari numbers and that had given it pause. Combined, the elves were still a formidable force, coming out of a war or not.

That was probably why the attacks had slowed in number and intensity. There were still a few, but they felt more like tests. The Fallen seemed to be testing the defences of the Realm, a little here and a little there - as if trying to ascertain where would be the weakest point, the weakest link to exploit.

Eventually, they would find their answer. But before that could be allowed to happen, the Avari had to find out some answers for themselves. Answers which could not be shared as easily with the King as Mistress shared her lack of information now.

“So you are telling me that the Avari cannot explain why the orcs have backed off?”

“I can speculate, my Lord, but no, if you are asking for proof, that I cannot give you.”

“Then by all means, speculate.”

“They are testing our defences. Why waste numbers until they can be sure they can hurt us?”

“That has never stopped the orcs before. This strategy seems a little too intelligent for them. They have always worked on the principle of overwhelming the enemy with sheer numbers.”

Cothion’s attention sharpened. What would Mistress say to that?

“They probably do not have the numbers to waste on such a strategy, my Lord.”

“Do you have any idea how many orcs we are dealing with?” Legolas asked.

Rhinure shook her head and looked at Cothion. He turned to his side, and drew out a map and handed it to her.

Spreading it out on the table, Rhinure pointed to a few red markers on it. “These are sightings of orcs we have had in the last two months. The number of orcs and date has been written on the side.”

Thranduil looked at the map, most of the sightings were similar to those found by Maenon, but what Thranduil found intriguing was that there were sighting in areas where he had specifically forbidden Maenon to go for they were too dangerous. Some were behind accepted enemy lines. The Avari were certainly more reckless than the Wood-elves when it came to scouting.

Interesting.

 “Most of these posts have been abandoned.”

“You send elves back to known orc posts, to make certain they were abandoned?” Legolas asked incredulously.

Rhinure set her jaw and nodded.

Legolas grimly acknowledged that news and asked, “How many are still active?”

“Not many. The ones nearer to the Realm have been abandoned. It is as if the orcs have been pulled back.”

“Or that they are re-grouping at a safer distance,” Cothion added.

“Perhaps. But at this point we cannot say for certain.”

Thranduil nodded and added his own information, keeping only a few pieces out. There was not too much to say. For now, there seemed to be lull in the fighting. Thranduil could only hope it was not one before a storm.

“We must take this time to find out what numbers are we dealing with and whether Eryn Lasgalen is the intended target.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Rhinure asked.

“Legolas has been invited to Gondor to attend a wedding.”

Rhinure glanced questioningly at Legolas who picked up the thread of the conversation. “Prince Faramir, whom you have met, is to marry the Lady Éowyn in about a month’s time. He has extended an invitation to me – to us – to attend the wedding.”

Rhinure looked at Legolas blankly, not understanding what the invitation had to do with their current lack of information.

“Other than being a dear friend of mine, Faramir is also the prince of Ithilien.”

“You have told me this before.”

“And Lady Éowyn is sister to the King of Rohan,” continued Legolas as if Rhinure had not spoken.

Rhinure risked a glance to Cothion beside her but he too seemed more interested in what Legolas was saying than not. It seemed as if she was the only one who did not know where this was leading. But then, she was tired and a little slow this morning. If only Legolas would hurry up and finish, she could go to sleep.

“Together the human Kingdoms of Rohan and Gondor constitute the largest, and therefore the most obvious target, of Men in Arda today,” Cothion said unexpectedly.

Legolas’ eyes narrowed but he smiled pleasantly, “Very good, my Lord. You have made the connection with great alacrity.”

Cothion lent back in the chair and spoke softly, as if speculating. “If the Fallen are attacking at random then it would stand to reason that they would be attacking Men as well. At least, more than a few random skirmishes.”

“Not necessarily,” interjected Rhinure.

“And why not, sell nín?”                       (My Daughter)

Cothion threw a sharp glance in Thranduil’s direction, wondering if the words were deliberate or as much of an affectation as these Eldar titles of lords and ladies.

Thankfully, Rhinure did not seem to notice Thranduil’s claim of her. She was too busy picking out her words carefully. “It depends on how many of the Fallen are left. While the recent attacks on the forest show that they have plenty, is it enough to sustain an attack on two races? Better to concentrate on one to ensure some chance of victory.”

“Orcs have not been known for the internal cooperation,” Legolas pointed out. “There is nothing to ensure that they would act together.”

“They would if necessity forces them,” Thranduil stated firmly. “If their numbers are not strong, hunger would unite them.”

“Perhaps, but why attack the elves? Why not the humans, with their spread out lands, it would be easier to get past their defences?”

“Why not the elves? Our defences may be concentrated but so are our numbers.
We present a more tempting target per inch.”

Rhinure and Cothion kept silent, not offering their speculations. If they were right, and at that moment both prayed to whomever would listen that they were not, the Fallen attacked for vengeance.

It was a few moments before Thranduil realised that the Avari were not saying anything. “Be that as it may, seeing the state of the land of Men cannot hurt. If they too are having problems with the orcs, then we will know that the problem is larger and potentially more serious that we first imagined.”

“Is there any indication or news from your friends that they face trouble?” Rhinure asked Legolas.

“None, but then I have not told them about how serious our situation is either.” Legolas held up a hand to forestall the question he saw in Rhinure’s eyes. “And before you ask, I have not told them for there is no need as yet. This is our forest and we will protect it. If we need help then we will ask.”

“And you will give them no warning that they too might expect such trouble soon? Especially if we fail?”

“All the more reason to go and see if such a warning is needed,” Legolas countered smoothly.

“Why not just write to them? Would that not be more prudent?” Cothion asked.

“If ever we need their help then best to keep ties between our two peoples strong, would you not agree? Faramir came to my wedding, should I not return the courtesy?”

“But why do you wish to take Mistress?”

“For she is my wife,” said Legolas sharply.

“And she is our Sacrifice. She is needed here, by her people.”

“Why?”

Cothion blinked, “For the defence of our people.”

“Are you telling us that the Avari defence is so weak that it would crumble without one elf?”

“He is not saying anything of the sort, my Lord,” said Rhinure calmly, drawing Legolas’ attention back towards her and away from a confrontation with Cothion. “But I have duties in Tirnen.”

“And you have duties to me and my people as well, Rhinure.”

“But is this the right time to be leaving the Realm? In the time of war it is best if all commanders are present.”

“But we are not at war yet, my Lady. What better time than now, when there is a break by your admission in orc activity?” asked Thranduil pointedly.

“Unless there is something you are not telling us? Perhaps you know why this is not a good time for you to be leaving the Realm?”

Rhinure was trapped and she knew it. She could not refuse without highlighting the seriousness of the situation and she could highlight nothing unless she was certain about the Lost Ones.

“Surely Lord Cothion can handle matters for a month or so. He is obviously an elf of experience.”

What could Rhinure say to that? Legolas was correct; with centuries of years on her, Cothion was more experienced in military matters as it was. He could protect Tirnen as well as she from any attack. Had that not been a comfort when she had announced her marriage, knowing that Cothion would be there for her people when she could not?

“And it is not as if you are physically with your people most of the time,” Legolas added, just to drive his point home.

Rhinure looked at Cothion but he did not seem to have an answer for her. “May I have some time to think about it?”

Though Legolas was angered by Rhinure’s instinctive plea to Cothion, he smiled and graciously gave her the time she wanted, even though both knew what her answer would be.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“You have to go.”

Rhinure turned from the window, more surprised that Cothion had spoken than at his suggestion. “And leave Tirnen?”

“Do you think you have a choice?”

“I could explain to Legolas how important it is for me to stay.”

“How? After all, I am capable of protecting the Avari in your absence. I have been doing so since you moved in with these Eldar, have I not?”

*~ But are you capable of leading them? ~* Rhinure wondered. But she did not say that, keeping her thoughts to herself, not speaking her mind. These last few weeks had made her realise how rarely she did. She had always thought it a sign of prudence but sometimes, too often for comfort, it smacked of cowardice.

“Are you listening to me, Mistress?”

Though Rhinure nodded her mind drifted. Cothion still did not call her by her name, shying from that familiarity like a nervous colt. When Sarniel had been alive it was always ‘young miss’, or ‘child’, or a thousand other titles which maintained that distance. And perhaps distance had to be maintained. After all, why would an experienced commander bother with a little girl who followed him around, asking him questions, never leaving him alone for she hoped, in the process, to catch a glimpse of her mother.

“Then you agree?”

Again Rhinure nodded. Her becoming Sacrifice had not changed the relationship between her an Cothion much. He still called her by her title, and he still answered her questions and pacified her demands. Only now, it was he who followed and she who led. And Rhinure was not willing to let that slide back. That was one thing she would not wish to change.

“Would you like me to inform the Prince or will you?”

“Inform him of what?”

“Of your decision.”

Even though Rhinure wondered what she had agreed to, she shook her head and calmly said, “I will tell him.”

“You will be careful though, Mistress, will you not?”

Rhinure felt as if she had walked into the conversation a minute too late but she thought it was prudent to agree. “I will.”

“When will you leave?”

 Rhinure blinked, so she had agreed to accompany Legolas. Keeping her face blank she answered, “I will have to discuss that with the Prince.”

“Be certain to tell me so that I may prepare Tirnen.”

Rhinure raised a questioning eyebrow, “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Cothion did not hear the sarcasm in the question, probably because Rhinure masked her impatience so well. She wanted to deliberate about the morning council, about Thranduil’s words. He seemed a little too confident in the face of so little information. Rhinure wanted to go over what he had said to ascertain whether he had left clues about what he knew but was not sharing. But she wanted to do so alone, without the distraction of Cothion around.

And of course, there was Legolas to think about.

Where to start when it came to him?

Rhinure glanced back to where Cothion sat. After leaving the council, he had followed her back to her room and she had not been able to get rid of him yet.

“When will you speak to him?”

“Soon.”

“When will soon be?” Cothion persisted.

“It will be when it will be, Commander. Do you not think you should leave me to prepare?”

Cothion stood but not before making one final statement, “Mistress, you will be careful around him, will you not?”

“Do I have to be careful around him? Was it not you who insisted that he was not a danger?”

“He is not to an Avari who remembers how dangerous emotions can be.”

Rhinure sighed and turned towards the window, “Say what you wish clearly, Commander. At least there should be no duplicity amongst us.”

“You must avoid all emotional entanglements with the Prince.”

 “Is that not my concern? Who are you to interfere in my marriage?” demanded Rhinure with no real heat.

“Mistress, I know what I ask of you is unfair but I must ask it nonetheless. Our people depend on you to lead us and you cannot if you cannot see clearly.”

“I know.”

“Then you will be careful?”

“I will,” Rhinure promised again. There was nothing else she could say. She understood Cothion’s concerns for they were hers, but that did not mean she had to agree with his prescription either. For now, it cost her nothing to agree.

“Then I will leave you to your thoughts, Mistress.”

Rhinure nodded but she did not turn from the window, willing herself to block out everything around her.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

It was late afternoon by the time Legolas headed towards his chambers. After leaving his father he had decided to work his frustrations the best way he knew how – on the archery field. But even there his problems followed him.

He had found the elves divided into two frosty camps - Avari and Silvan, naturally. Both had wanted to practice but neither wanted to do it together. Legolas found it surprising that they had ventured to the field at all until he found out that they were there on Faelon’s invitation. Now, they could not leave without insulting the Lieutenant or stay without antagonising the Wood-elves.

Legolas had been sorely tempted to turn around and walk away from the mess. If elves could not learn to live together then they could suffer together. It was only the wordless plea from Faelon which made him stop and interfere.

Suffice to say, one blistering tirade and a mountain load of stress later, Legolas had solved the problem, shaming both parties to work together. As he left the field, not having gotten any practice or release himself, he wondered how Rhinure would have handled the problem.

*~ She probably would have ignored it, since it would be ‘none of her business’. ~* Legolas thought sourly. *~ She is so frustrating. ~*

And she was obviously in her room, Legolas noted when he saw the silent duo outside her room. Istion nodded politely when he saw the Prince but Ehtewen treated him with cold disdain.

*~ I wonder if Rhinure learnt it from her. ~*

She could have; that particular look, with the blank face and the raised eyebrow as if the person had seen something particularly distasteful, was something Legolas had gotten used to seeing on Rhinure.

As Legolas passed her door, he wondered what she was doing. He really did not want another confrontation with Rhinure so he should probably leave her alone. She was probably stewing over something or the other.

But … on the other hand, what could a few minutes hurt?

He would just go in for a few minutes. Just a few minutes, then he would leave her alone, Legolas promised himself.

As he opened Rhinure’s door, he could not help winking at Ehtewen. The surprised, or was it shocked, look on her face almost made the day worthwhile.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas opened the door softly and slipped inside, shutting the door behind him so carefully that it made not a peep. Even so, he was surprised to find that Rhinure did not turn from the window she stood at. Once again, she ignored him.

Or had she heard him at all?

There his wife stood, outlined by Anor’s dying light, seemingly lost in her thoughts. One hand rested on the frame, alternately squeezing and releasing the blameless wood. She did not seem happy; her shoulders were slumped forward, as if in defeat. Her breathing was laboured and filled the silent room with its distressing sound.

All Legolas wanted to do was put his arms around his intractable wife and make everything better for her, and that is just what he did.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure watched Anor struggle to complete its journey for the day, and fought her own silent battle, willing all her morbid thoughts to leave her alone. She was fast getting annoyed with herself for feeling so much without any reason.

The Avari distance from emotion was something she personally believed and followed as much as she could, even in her private life. The bifurcation between the public and the private aspect of feeling had always been difficult for her, especially given the amount of sorrow in her life. She had learnt the hard way that the Avari were right when they said that emotion was dangerous. She had often found it easier not to feel at all than only allow herself the luxury of feeling only in private.

She supposed that some Avari managed to find that elusive balance in their lives but she had still not found the courage to inquire about something so sensitive, so precious. For while feeling was dangerous, it was the only true freedom in life. No one could stop her from feeling what she did and as intensely as she did.

And how she wished someone would.

Rhinure mused that of all quendi, the Avari were probably most ill-prepared to confront the emotional turmoil life so often brought. Or at least, she was. Being here made her uncomfortable. Being away made her unhappy. Time spent with Legolas made her smile and then cry. It was confusing and, more than that, it was tiring.

She was tired of this all. She was weary of this mess that she had so willingly created and now did not know what do with. Most of all, she was drained by this game Legolas played with her for she did not know the rules and had the feeling that she was losing.

Rhinure rubbed her head, stopping the litany going through the head. It was darkly comforting to wallow in her problems but it did not help any. She still had to deal with the Lost Ones. She had sent a Spy Master after the last raiding party of orcs, which she had not mentioned to Thranduil. She hoped this one would have more success in finding the lost Avari, if Avari they were still, and live to tell the Clan about it.

And of course, there was still this trip. She had still not decided whether it was right to go or not. Would she be able to convince Legolas to let her stay? Perhaps she should go; Cothion certainly believed it was necessary. What could it hurt? It was not likely that the Spy Master would be back before she returned.

She sighed, feeling the thoughts swirling in her head, making it difficult for her to concentrate.

“Tired?”

Rhinure stiffened at the low question, almost jerking forward as strong arms encircled her waist. They must have felt her resistance for they held on, even when she would have moved away.

“Stay,” Legolas whispered in her ear, and she did.

“What were you thinking of?” Legolas asked, cuddling even closer.

“Nothing in particular,” sighed Rhinure, relaxing completely in his arms, letting the tension flow out of her body.

“That is not really an answer.”

“I know but I am too comfortable to answer right now. Do you want me to?” Rhinure tipped her head back to that she looked into Legolas’ eyes. The sight was so adorable that Legolas grinned and shook his head, wanting to keep things just the way they were.

“Good.” Rhinure turned back to the window, drawing his arms tighter around her as if to shield her from all that troubled her so.

“Is it not beautiful?” Legolas asked looking down at his wife looking out at his forest.

Rhinure sighed, though there was no real sadness in it now, which surprised her. “You talk too much.”

Legolas rested his head on hers before answering, “And you talk too little.”

“I like it when we do not have to.”

“We as in ‘you and I’ or as in a general collective?”

Rhinure smiled, “What do you think?”

 “I think I do not want to know the answer.”

“Why?”

“Because you are too honest for my good.”

Rhinure twisted in his arms until she was facing him. Putting her arms around his neck, she asked slyly, “And if I tell you that you would like this answer?”

“Then I would bid you speak.”

“I like it when there is no need for words between us. It feels like …” Rhinure paused, wondering if she could be so audacious as to willingly speak of what was felt.

“It feels like?” Legolas prodded.

Rhinure glanced up into his eyes and then down again, concentrating on the first tie of his shirt, above which she could see just the smallest bit of fair skin. It helped her speak.

“It feels .. warm, in a good way. Like I am covered by a blanket on a cold night.” Rhinure trailed off when she realised that Legolas had gone still.

“Come with me, Rhinure.” It was a command but its intensity made her quiver instead of rage. “Please.”

With a low, inarticulate cry for him to stop, Rhinure buried her face in his shirt. “I cannot.”

“You will not.”

“My people … the raids …. I am needed.”

“By myself. I will not go without you.”

Legolas tried to make her look up at him, her hiding from him, even in plain sight, was painful to him. “I need you to come with me, dear one. I will not allow you to spend more time away from me.”

“You will not allow?” Rhinure blazed, head lifting in challenge.

“No. You have come back to me and I am not willing to let you go just yet.”

“How will you stop me?”

“Simple.” Legolas smiled and kissed her, his mouth trailing over her cheeks and then her eyes, forcing them shut so that all she knew what his mouth on her skin and his arms around her.

“You cannot do this, I …”

Rhinure was unable to continue for Legolas’ mouth swooped down on her, effectively silencing all words. Every time she made to speak he kissed her until she lost all interest in what he could not do and was only concerned with what he was doing.

Legolas continued until he felt all resistance leave her body, and then just a little longer for he, too, was too involved to stop. Finally, when he was able to drag his mouth away from hers and calm his own breathing, he found his voice appallingly weak. “Do not make me suffer again, Rhinure. Come with me. It will not be for long.”

“Do you promise?” Rhinure whispered, for that was all she was capable of.

“Yes.”

“And my people will be all right in my absence?”

“I would not ask you to accompany me if I believed differently.”

Rhinure rested her head on his chest so she could hear the fast beating of his heart. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you wish me to come? I will only be in the way. You have friends to see, reunions to savour. I have …”

“Me. You have me. Is that not enough?”

“Yes,” Rhinure admitted for at this moment she could not manage any other evasion. “But …”

“But nothing. I want you to come with me. I want you to meet those who are important to me and I want them to meet you – for you are most important.”

Rhinure turned impossibly dark eyes to him and his voice gentled, become more coaxing for he instinctively knew victory was close and only needed a light touch to secure it. “You will enjoy yourself, darling. We will take this time out of our normal lives, just for ourselves. Do you not want that? Do you not want to spend the time with me? Think about it, Rhinure. We would be away from all other distractions – alone.”

The promise in Legolas’ voice, the seductiveness of the offer – to be able to hide, just this once from her title, with him – was more than Rhinure to withstand.

“Your people are strong, they will not be harmed by your rest. Are they not survivors?”

Rhinure nodded, drunk on his words and her own desire.

“Just you and I, Rhinure. A time to be husband and wife, to achieve the marriage you wanted. Is that not worth it?” Legolas did not allow her to answer, afraid of all the objections she might make. He needed her to come. Thranduil had promised that it was safe for them to leave and he trusted his father. He would not hide anything important from his son and heir, Legolas was sure of it. With that assurance, Legolas was determined to have his way with Rhinure, even if it meant manipulating her into agreeing.

Legolas was no fool. He knew the effect he had on Rhinure, how could he not when she trembled with passion whenever he touched her. If victory required him to use it against her then he would. He only hoped she would not hold it against him when she has time to consider what he was doing to her.

That thought was frightening enough to almost make him stop but he pushed it aside. Lightly tracing her leaf-like ear with his tongue, gently sucking on the sensitive tip, causing her to cling to him, he persisted, “Say yes.”

Rhinure pulled herself away from him, surprising him enough to make pause. “If I say yes, will you do something for me?”

Without thinking, Legolas nodded. He could not lose her now.

“Come to bed, my Lord.”

And this time, he did.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

A big thank you to JastaElf who beta read this chapter since RL hijacked Nilmandra.

For all of you who have been so patient and who have prodded me to get off my – er, seat, this chapter is dedicated to you. Hope you like it. This took me a WHILE.

Chapter 5 – Pillow Talk and Other Conversation

Legolas struggled against encroaching sleep, determined to prolong the evening. As the bed shifted, he tightened his arms automatically. “Not yet.”

Rhinure shushed him, smoothing the damp hair away from his forehead. “Sleep. You are tired.”

Legolas shook his head. “No.”

Rhinure smiled at his petulance; he was such a child sometimes. “You are tired, are you not?”

“No,” Legolas insisted, pulling her closer so that she was nestled against his side. 

“Why not?” Rhinure settled down next to him, turning on her side and resting on his shoulder.

Legolas drew the sheet over them more securely before he answered, cocooning them so that she had to warp herself around him. He liked it, being this close to her; he could feel the heat from her body and the sweet smell of her sweat. “For if I sleep, you will leave.”

Rhinure raised herself on one elbow so that she could look at him, black into blue. “I am tired too, hir nín. Like you, I must get some rest.” (My Lord)

Legolas turned so that his face was against her bare shoulder. “Rest here with me.” 

Rhinure’s face twisted for the smallest of seconds before settling into blankness. “I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“This is not my bed.”

“But it could be ours.” Legolas kissed her shoulder, mouth trailing over her skin to remind her of what is was like when they were together.  Rhinure shifted closer, making Legolas lie back so that she could lean over him. Her hair swung down around them, cutting off the faint moonlight filtering into the room. They had been occupied in here for a while now, even missing dinner because of their activities.

 “I would like that.”

Legolas frowned, hearing the objection even though Rhinure did not voice it. “But?”  

“But not now.  I have my place and you have yours.” Legolas made to say something again but Rhinure placed a restraining finger on his mouth. “Remember, my Lord – time. I need time.”

Legolas moved her hand away, “Why, mell min? I do not ask for much.”     (Dear one)

Rhinure sighed and rested back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, wondering if Legolas would ever understand.

“Tell me.”

“Why do you want this?  Is it not enough that I share your bed?”

“Do not deflect my question with one of yours. All I ask is that I am able to hold you in my arms and watch you sleep. That is not too much to ask.”

Rhinure turned away from Legolas, frustrated that he insisted on pushing too hard and too fast. A gentle touch on the arm and a soft voice made her still. “Do not turn away from me, hervess nín.” When she made no move, he continued in an anguished whisper. “It hurts so.”

Once again she found that simple, treacherous words were enough to sway her. She could not let his pain continue so she turned back to find intense blue eyes staring down at her. They were so sad that they decimated the icy defence she tried to erect, leaving her bare and gentle.

“Hush, I am here. I will not turn away from you,” Rhinure promised, cradling the golden head in her palms.

Legolas smiled, making her defeat worthwhile and irrelevant at the same time. When he bent down to claim her mouth in a searing kiss that made her forget everything, she welcomed it. For the next few moments conversation flagged as the need for physical assurance took precedence. And as so often happened with the couple, assurance gave way to pleasure – and pleasure was paramount in their relationship at the moment.

When the two parted, both were breathing heavily and were content to lie together in silence, which Legolas broke by his insistence. “But you will not stay.”

“Please do not start this again.”

“Rhinure, I ask for so little. Can you not give me this at least? Just stay with me for one night.”

Rhinure shook her head, “How can you say that? You ask me to rest with you, to hold me through the night when I am defenceless. To let you guard my sleep and wake up beside you, so you become the last and the first thing I see. All this you ask me and still you call it so little?”

At his blank look, she was ready to cry because he just would not understand. She enjoyed their time together – a lot – but she was just not ready to give up everything to him. That little time to herself, alone in her room right before she went to sleep, was precious to her. She could not give that up – at least, just not yet.

“You do not trust me,” said Legolas flatly.

“How can you say that?” Rhinure asked, hurt that he could say such a horrible thing. “I am here, am I not?

“You will not stay when I ask. How can I think otherwise?” Legolas made to turn away only to be stopped by Rhinure.

“My leaving is only in part because of my misgivings.”

“So you do not trust me.”

“I said misgivings, not mistrust,” Rhinure corrected sharply. “Do not complicate an already difficult situation.”

“I do not understand,” said Legolas plaintively.

“Welcome to my world.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, my Lord. I was saying that trust is only part of it. I believe that sleeping with someone is a huge step. It involves a level of comfort that you and I do not have just yet. It is a melding of identities, a loss of ‘you and I’ to gain an ‘us’. It is a coming together for two people, a joining of two feär into one. Can you understand that I am not ready for this yet?”

Legolas watched her in awe. “I did not realise you were such a romantic.”

Rhinure frowned, “I am not.”

“You most certainly are.” When Rhinure made to get up, affronted at Legolas’ accusation, he gently pushed her back, rolling on top of her to prevent her from moving.

“Get off me.”

“No.”

“Legolas, you are heavy. Get off.” Rhinure pushed at the elf, but it was only a half-heartened attempt since he had started to caress her, hands moving under the sheets.

“You did not complain earlier.” 

Rhinure blushed at the wicked look in his eyes, delighting Legolas, who bent down to kiss her reddened cheeks. “I like it when you blush. I should make you do it more often. Perhaps in front of the entire court.”

Rhinure gasped in outrage, twisting out from under him so suddenly that he fell back, giving her enough time to scramble out from the bed and away from him. Tying the bed sheet around her securely, she glared at him balefully. “Just for that, I am returning to my room now.”

As she made to walk away, Legolas lunged forward, grasping her wrist before she could move too far. 

Rhinure looked down at the strong fingers holding her wrist and then back up at her husband. “Are you going to let me go?”

Legolas shook his head. “Never.”

Pulling her towards him, he lowered her onto the bed and went to remove the sheet keeping her from him. “Not if I can help it.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The halls were empty, welcoming in their silence. The King was safe in his quarters, or as close to safe as Thranduil could get. There something about that elf, Arandur mused as he completed the last patrol himself, that invited danger. Perhaps it was the wilful defiance of fate which tempted her to interfere in her favourite scion’s life time and time again.

Though sometimes Arandur feared that Thranduil pushed fate too far. What had possessed the King to antagonise Cothion so tonight? Watching the two most important elves in his life bicker in the council room today had torn Arandur until he bled – literally. One of his fists had been clenched so tightly that even his blunt nails had drawn blood.

The other had been kept constantly on his sword, ready to be drawn in an instant.

Arandur wondered if he would have drawn it against Cothion. He wanted to believe he would have if Thranduil had so commanded, but the imperceptible shaking of his hand belied his conviction.

During the council, for one short but unbearable moment, Cothion had turned his knowing gaze on him, as if telling him that the doubt was not as invisible as the younger Avari would have liked to believe. Under that familiar gaze, Arandur felt himself regress to the child he had once been, the child that had sat in his brother’s lap and learnt everything he knew or could hope to know.

But Arandur was no longer a child and Cothion was no longer that wise, knowing brother – if he had ever been.  Perhaps even then he had been moulding Arandur into a willing weapon, to be used when Cothion saw fit. Perhaps he had never loved Arandur.

But that no longer mattered. It had never mattered, Arandur thought to himself fiercely. He was Captain of the Home Guard, Thranduil’s Captain. That was all that mattered. He was Arandur, sworn to serve and obey Thranduil, his King. His Honour demanded nothing less. As long as he remembered that, everything else would fall into place.

Now all he had to do was keep repeating that to himself until Cothion left. Even though Cothion had taught him better, Arandur hoped that this time wishing would make it so. 

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Legolas.”  Rhinure pushed at the enthusiastic elf on top of her but was rewarded by an incoherent mumble.

“Legolas, are you listening to me?”

“Always,” replied her husband before attacking her mouth again, causing her to swallow her words.

As his mouth trailed down her neck, to the crook of her shoulder, Rhinure took the fleeting opportunity to admonish him. “You are not listening.”

“So?” Legolas was not interested in conversation at the moment, but in his beautiful squirming wife, who was making it very difficult for him to concentrate on anything. 

“Stop.”

“No.”

“Please.”

Legolas growled his refusal, rolling them both to their sides so he had easier access to her.

“Legolas, I am hungry.”

“So am I,” he returned, moulding her to him.

Rhinure managed to twist away, clutching the bed sheet to herself as she sat up. “I meant for food.”

“Well, I did not.”

Rhinure batted away impatient hands, determined to have her way for once. “You made me miss dinner.”

Legolas sighed and lay on his back, frustrated but understanding that Rhinure wanted to talk. And what a thing to talk about when they could be doing something infinitely more interesting! “Are you complaining?”

Rhinure bit her lip to keep herself from smiling and only realised her mistake as the blue eyes watching her intently, darkened visibly. “Anyway, as I was saying, I am hungry.” 

“And I remember replying that so was I,” said Legolas, stroking the smooth calf that peeked out from beneath the sheet. 

Rhinure smacked the questing fingers when they threatened to go higher, causing Legolas to pout. The sight was so endearing that Rhinure forgot her request for the moment and bent forward to kiss him. Legolas welcomed her eagerly, pulling her close, open mouth slanting over hers. It was so addictive that it took quite an effort on her part to scramble back.

“I think I want to eat something.” 

Legolas growled impatiently as his arms were empty once more. “Then do something about it or let me finish.”

That dubious permission was enough to spur Rhinure, who scurried out of bed, flinging her robe on quickly and carelessly.

“Where do you think you are going?” demanded Legolas.

“To the kitchen, to ‘do something about it’.” 

“Come back to bed.”

Rhinure raised a sardonic eyebrow as she belted the robe tightly. “This from someone who a few months ago did not want me near.”

“That is not true,” blurted Legolas, stung that she could bring that up now, even though it was the truth – at least, part of it.

“No? I would be forgiven for thinking it was so. After all, you did take your sweet time inviting me in.”

Rhinure’s arch smile was enough to smooth away the sting of her words – and arouse her husband. His voice was husky when he replied, “Come closer and I will endeavour to make up for that time so carelessly lost.”

Rhinure shook her head, “Not now. Right now there is another mistake we have to correct.” She quickly bundled up her hair into a careless knot which would not stay up for long. Watching her, Legolas felt that now familiar itch to let her hair down and bury his face in it, breathing the faint smell that accompanied Rhinure no matter what. 

“Stop it.” Rhinure ducked her head, causing him to blink in confusion.

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like you wanted to …”

“Like I wanted to?” Legolas smiled, a slow and devastating smile that played havoc with her insides. “Like I wanted to eat you?”

Rhinure did not answer, deeming it best if she left – now.

“Wait.” Legolas frowned, “are you going out like that?”

“Yes. Why?”

He did not answer, looking over his wife and sighing mentally. With her lips swollen from his kisses and her hair tangled from his fingers she looked thoroughly debauched. It was obvious that she had just risen from his bed. “Do not let anybody see you.”

“Why ever not?” Rhinure asked innocently.

“Just because …”

“You do not want people to know that we have been … keeping company? And will be doing so again when I return?” Rhinure asked, not so innocently this time.

Legolas groaned at the wicked look in her eyes, wishing that she was already back. His only consolation was that Rhinure seemed as anxious to return as he was to have her back. As Legolas made himself comfortable, he counted the minutes until she returned.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Arandur’s thoughts swirled around in his head like a dark whirlpool, though he tried to keep his mind on his patrol. If any other cadet had been in an emotional frenzy as he was, Arandur would have put him on kitchen duty for a month. It was unfortunate that he could not do the same for himself. Perhaps Cothion would not notice if he disappeared for a month or so.

Mercifully, a sound in the shadows distracted him from his thoughts. Duty, as ever, proved an effective buffer against emotions. With practised ease he moved into the dark, where even Ithil’s brave light dared not touch him. Quietly, with the lightest of touches, he loosened his sword from its sheath, taking care to make only the slightest of sounds.

However, it seemed it was enough of a warning for the approaching figure. Footprints ceased immediately, forcing Arandur to move closer until he could make out the faint outline of the intruder. The figure obviously knew he was being watched. A hand clutched his robe closer and feet shifted apart subtly. The figure was getting ready to attack, the Captain realised.

Arandur watched the lines of the body and smiled unseen. Only one person stood like the when she was without a weapon.

“Mistress.”

Rhinure fell into a defensive posture when she heard Arandur’s voice. “Come out where I can see you.”

“As you command, Mistress.” Arandur stepped forward, hand still resting on his sword. Now that he was closer he could make Rhinure out more clearly. Taking in her dishevelled state and the robe she wore, he asked sardonically, “Or perhaps I should call you ‘your highness’?”

Rhinure pulled Legolas’ robe tighter around her against that bitter and uncalled-for reproach, belting it securely around her, rolling her shoulders to prepare herself for another battle; which, though different from one fought on the battlefield, drew blood as accurately. “You may call me whatever suit you best, Captain. You do have a choice – Avari or Eldar?”

“I would not presume on your rights. The choice still remains yours.”

“I have chosen, Captain. Have you?” Rhinure swept her now open hair to one side, coiling it into a thick rope. She was pleased to note that Arandur’s eyes followed her movements, though involuntarily. She had no sexual interest in the Captain; Legolas was proving to be a more than suitable bed-mate, a little too suitable, but it was nice to know that she could still attract a male’s attention when needed.  

Arandur’s gaze was most appreciative though it lingered on the exposed side of her neck a little too long.

“Is something wrong, Captain?”

Arandur said nothing, only reached up and gently touched the reddening bruise on the side of Rhinure’s neck. “The Prince?”

It was a soft touch and an achingly concerned question – no unreasonable anger, no protectiveness – just a need for reassurance. No wonder that Rhinure stiffened as if scalded. “Remove your hand, Captain.”

Arandur hastily withdrew at the frosty tone but persisted in his question. “Did the Prince hurt you?”

Rhinure ducked her eyes and chose to answer the question less aggressively than it deserved. Such effrontery would have earned the Avari a stinging response, but Rhinure was just not in the mood for such fireworks. She felt at ease, replete with the pleasure still thrumming through her; so much so that the look she turned on Arandur was utterly feminine and dangerous – to him. “You have never been with an elleth, have you?”

Arandur shook his head and successfully managed to keep himself from blushing. “No, I have not, Mistress.” He had never seen her in such a mood before and was uncertain how to respond.  She had never been one to entrap before, always preferring a more direct approach. With the power she wielding as Sacrifice, she had not needed to rely on being a female for a long time. So long that it was disconcerting to re-learn that she was female, with all the wiles and charms that made ellyth so dangerous to elves.

“I am no longer ‘your highness’, Captain?”

“You never were to me.”

“I wonder if I ever will be,” Rhinure whispered to herself.

“Pardon?”

Rhinure shook her head, partly to clear it and partly to ward off the questions she could see forming in Arandur’s eyes. She should not have been so careless as to voice her private thoughts. Or had she wanted Arandur to hear? After all, who would understand better than the Captain with his divided loyalties?

“If you had been with an elleth,” Rhinure said archly, bringing the subject back to one she had more control over, “you would know that not all marks are of cruelty. Some are just reminders of something a lot more … passionate.” Once again that look that silenced him so effectively.

“If you say so.” Arandur’s voice was patently disbelieving.

“Oh, but I do, Captain – emphatically.” Rhinure walked past Arandur, brushing his arm lightly; this time causing him to stiffen. “Perhaps you should try it sometime.”

Arandur looked down at his beautiful Mistress and knew why his Prince was so fascinated by her. In the dark, with the shadows playing on her face creating a mosaic of darkness and light, she was an attractive sight. She was as seductive as the night with its cool comfort and silent promises. If the bright flame could attract the naive moth than why could not the vain firefly wait for the dark night against which it could shine? But for Arandur she held only an intellectual temptation and a fanatical devotion. She was the Sacrifice, Mistress – equally his guardian and ward. She would never be just an elleth for him, as she was, he hoped, for the Prince. He would just have to wait for that spark, ellon to elleth.

“Perhaps some day I will.”

Rhinure’s eyes softened for she knew who Arandur thought of. Only now that she had Legolas in her life could she begin to understand what it had taken for Arandur to leave – what it had taken Sarniel.

*~ No! Never that. ~*

Rhinure forcibly brought her attention back to Arandur. “May it be soon.”

“From your lips to the ears of Fate, my Sacrifice.” Arandur brought his fist to his heart, bowing over it from the waist up. That combined Avari and Eldar salute was somehow fitting from the Captain.

Rhinure lightly tapped the knuckles resting over that serious devoted heart. “We will have to see if we can open Fate’s ears, shall we not?”

“I have been unsuccessful so far.”

“But unlike before, you are alone no longer.” Rhinure squeezed his hand before moving away.

Before she had moved more than two steps, Rhinure stilled and listened to something in the air. Her back stiffened and the steel returned to her voice. “One more thing, Captain.”

Arandur snapped to attention, heading the warning in her voice.

“Give my regards to the Commander.”

With that, Rhinure left Arandur with one he had been trying his hardest to avoid.

“Hello, brother.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Commander.”

Arandur stepped back from Cothion, wondering how long the older elf had been watching and how he could have missed his brother’s presence? Once again the older elf had managed to catch him at a disadvantage, to show that, despite Arandur’s caution and care, he would never be as good as his brother.

Cothion watched Rhinure receding back for a few minutes before casually observing, “She has changed, has she not?”

The question was phrased carelessly enough that Arandur almost believed that Cothion was making casual conversation. However, he knew his brother well enough not to fool himself. “Do you think so? In what way?” he asked cautiously.

“Answering a question with a question, committing no answer but leaving room for interpretation nonetheless. Very good, brother. I had despaired of your forgetting such tactics after such time away from your people.”

“I do not forget, Commander,” said Arandur with pointed stress on Cothion’s title, highlighting the other’s inappropriate familiarity. He imagined he saw a flash of hurt on the Avari’s face but the illusion passed, and Arandur faced the Commander once more.

“That is good. A long memory may prove useful, yet.”

“What do you hint at?” Arandur asked directly, taking Cothion by surprise with his directness. Some things were done better the Silvan way.

“I am just making conversation. May I not do so with one who once considered me family?” countered Cothion smoothly.

“You never just do anything, Cothion. If you have finished wasting my time, may I complete my rounds?” Arandur winced at his choice of words. He should not have had to ask for permission; there was no need to ask Cothion for anything. He was the Captain of the Guard and Cothion a mere guest. The days when he turned to the older brother for consent were over.

If Cothion noticed the slip, he did not say anything. He was more engaged in controlling the exaltation that brimmed in him at hearing his name from Arandur’s lips. Such a simple thing to have yearned for and to bring so much troublesome joy. “May I accompany you?” The words came out has a little more hopeful than he would have wished, but there were said and he could not take them back.

 “So you may check if I do my duties correct? I think not,” said Arandur bitterly. 

Cothion stopped short, forcing Arandur to stop as well by the simple expedient of keeping a firm hand on his shoulder. “I have not needed to oversee your duties since you wore the first ring. You are an adult and I have always treated you as such. Do not belittle that trust no matter what else you choose to ignore. You serve and you serve well. I know this, I have always known this. To imply anything else would be an insult and a lie.”

Arandur swallowed and managed to keep his apology inside. He had forgotten how Cothion could be when his honour was impugned. “I will not apologise.” Even to himself, Arandur sounded like a petulant child, a child hitting out at what had caused him pain.

“I would not ask you to. With me, there will never be such need. That much honesty we both can share.”

Arandur nodded. “Come, there are Halls yet I need to walk tonight and time passes.”

“Lead on, Captain.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure watched the two brothers turn the corner and then pushed herself away from the wall she was leaning against. She was not surprised that neither elf had noticed her listening in – and that worried her. For both warriors to be so careless … Rhinure shivered, forcibly stopping herself from completing that thought.

Empty-handed, appetite lost, she headed back towards Legolas’ rooms. Her mind churned with unwelcome thoughts, faint hopes that Cothion and Arandur would resolve things between them and the dread too if they did. Blood cried out to Blood after all and everyone deserved a chance to fight to keep their families, even Cothion.

But she dreaded that resolution as well. She dreaded anything that gave Cothion an avenue to the Wood-elves and their lives. The Captain of the Home Guard was an important piece in Eryn Lasgalen’s machinery – and who knew how Cothion would use such a tool if given a chance? Not that Rhinure believed that Arandur would ever allow such a betrayal of the trust placed in him but Cothion knew what strings to pull to keep his puppets dancing without knowing that they were constrained.

Should Rhinure warn Arandur? But if she did she would ruin his chance to regain his brother. What right did she have to do that when she had no proof and only misgivings? She should wait and give the two the chance to rebuild what was lost – and hope that Arandur managed to remain wary.

Rhinure bit her lip, not liking that option particularly. Arandur deserved better.

Just outside Legolas’ door Rhinure paused, swaying as another, colder option came to her. Why not encourage and even tighten the strings surrounding the brothers, no matter what Cothion did or did not do? For was the Captain not an important part of the Silvan’s lives?

Rhinure’s hand shook as she opened the door – too much to think about. This decision was not one to be taken lightly, so intertwined was it with the rest of her life. She would take her leave of Legolas and retire to her chambers where she would consider this more carefully. 

“What is wrong, my Lady?”

Legolas’ question startled her since she had not realised that she had entered the room. She had not had time to construct her excuses. “Nothing, my Lord.”

“You did not bring food.”

“I decided that I was not hungry.”

Legolas smiled. “Then come back to bed for I find that I am.”

Rhinure vacillated. Watching Legolas smile at her, she felt the familiar heat rise; she could wait until the morning to sort everything out. But on the other hand, she was tired. Rhinure stepped back hastily when Legolas made a move to come get her.  

Legolas stopped and sat back down with a frown on his beautiful, distracting face. “What is wrong, my Lady?” This time the question could not be brushed aside, he would not allow it.

“Nothing to concern you about, my Lord.” Rhinure turned towards the connecting balcony. “I am just exhausted. I think it would be best if I take my leave and retire for the night.”

Legolas flung back the covers and made his way to her side. “Stop.” Rhinure turned and watched Legolas slip on a robe. As he roughly tied it close, Rhinure wondered how she was going to handle this mess. If she ignored him and walked off, would he follow?

As if he could hear her thoughts, Legolas pre-empted her decision by taking her arm and dragging her away from the window back to the centre of the room, as if she were an errant child. “Now explain,” Legolas demanded.

“Explain what, my Lord?” Rhinure asked carefully.

“Something happened when you left my room. Something that made you lose that half smile that took so long to bring out.” Legolas brushed the stubborn lips, even now closing in on themselves in a thin line. “Do not,” he whispered.

“Do not do what?” Rhinure asked, confused at the change in tone.

“You have such a beautiful mouth, such full … kissable lips. Do not purse them so.”

Surprise made Rhinure’s lips part. She had not been expecting this.  But then why was she surprised?  He did this so often that it was nauseatingly familiar—but it did not stop the manoeuvre from being deadly effective. She looked up with bewildered and unguarded eyes. 

“Better, much better.” Legolas smiled, all the while caressing her lips. “Come, sit.” This time Rhinure followed, a little dazed. Legolas sat down on the bed, gently pulling her down so that she was cradled against him. “Now, tell me.”

“There is nothing to tell,” said Rhinure wearily, resting for just a moment against his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his heart beat. Legolas said nothing, knowing she would speak in time – she had to.

“I saw Cothion tonight,” Rhinure said after a silent minute. Legolas could not help it, he instinctively stiffened at the sound of the Avari’s name.

“Stop it, please,” Rhinure pleaded. Legolas looked down at her immediately without realising that the jealous rage still burned his blue eyes. She bit her lip and raised an anxious hand to his jaw. “You have nothing to be concerned about.” When Legolas’ expression did not change she continued, “You must believe me.”

Legolas sighed and forced himself to calm down. He knew that Cothion and Rhinure shared nothing romantic but that did not mean that the older elf was not a threat to their relationship. Legolas had been a warrior too long not to recognise a rival when he saw one. “So you saw Cothion tonight,” Legolas prompted, putting his temper on a simmer for now.  He would deal with it later when Rhinure was not present to watch him explode. Right now he much preferred to concentrate on his wife.

“I saw him with Arandur.”

“And that concerns you?” Legolas wondered. “The Captain must have come across your Commander on his night patrol.”

“Cothion went looking for Arandur.”

Legolas frowned at his wife. “Why would Cothion seek out the Captain?”

Rhinure bit her lip lightly, distracting Legolas from the question. Before she could say anything further, he bent down to quickly kiss her. “Now, continue.”

Rhinure quashed her annoyance for she needed to fully concentrate on how she was going to phrase her answer, not on how brief the kiss was. Of course, Legolas was not making it easy by running gentle fingers through her hair.

“Rhinure?” Legolas prodded as he tucked a long strand of raven hair behind her ear. And then, because he could not help it, he caressed the tapered end, delighting when she sighed in pleasurable response.

“Can we not speak about it?”

Rhinure’s eyes were huge in her pale face and their full force was turned on him. He sighed in defeat, whatever it was could wait. “If you wish.”   

“Thank you,” Rhinure sighed and laid her head back on Legolas’ chest, listening to his heartbeat, the rhythm soothing her. Slowly, as she calmed, she wound her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth down on hers. Conversation flagged as Legolas rolled her onto her back, mouths never breaking contact.

When finally they broke apart, Legolas asked breathlessly, “I thought you were tired.”

“I changed my mind. I am allowed to do that that,” Rhinure whispered in Legolas’ ear along with promises that made his cheeks burn. “I can see why you like me to blush.”

“I also like it when you change your mind,” managed Legolas before Rhinure made conversation redundant.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

As the night and his shift neared his end, the tired guard yawned and dared a stretch, certain that no one was around to watch him. Unfortunately, he was unable to complete it for the Captain’s familiar form stepped around the corner. He had the most inconvenient timing. Though it was difficult to move from a stretch to full attention, somehow the elf managed it.

“Greetings, Captain.”

Arandur frowned. “Report to me after your watch is done and I will inform of your extra duties this week.”

The poor guard winced as the Captain and that scary looking elf walked past him. He had forgotten to challenge the Captain, greeting him before the counter-sign was given. At leas he had only been punished with a week of extra duties. The last time the Captain had caught someone sleeping on his watch he had given the poor ellon a month of double-shifts, letting him sleep and eat just enough so that he was able to perform.

Suffice to say, that guard was most vigilant now. In fact, that month had shortened his sleep cycle considerably, a fact that his wife was not been pleased about. Her sleep cycle had been shortened, too, after all.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Cothion glanced at Arandur as they continued down the corridor. “You are firm with your guards.”

“Are you suggesting that I should not be?” Arandur demanded, keeping his gaze firmly ahead.

 Cothion stopped, forcing Arandur to do the same or leave the older elf behind. “Why do you take everything I say as an accusation, little one? I was just making an observation.”

Arandur turned to face his brother, standing with his hands carefully folded behind his back. “Perhaps because I am unused to hearing anything except accusation and double meaning from you.”

Cothion shook his head. “I do – sometimes – have a general, polite conversation with other elves.”

“Truly – who?”

“I would have one with you if you would let me.”

Arandur looked squarely into the older elf’s eyes before shrugging and continuing on his way.

“I will consider it.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Much to Legolas’ disappointment Rhinure pulled back, allowing their kiss to become gentle instead of passionate. This was one situation where they were not going to end up in bed.

*~ I wonder if I kiss her again, I can change her mind. ~*

“Do not dare.”

Legolas blinked, had he spoken aloud? He did not think so. He carefully replayed the last minute and realised that he most definitely had kept silent – as was best around his wife.

“Did you hear me?” Legolas asked uncertainly, for the briefest of seconds wondering if their feär had brushed so close. But no, there was no link.

“I do not need to hear you to know what you are thinking – or at least, when you are thinking of taking me to bed,” Rhinure amended fairly.

Legolas ignored the faint disappointment to comment leeringly, “What am I thinking now?” He slowly traced one finger down her sternum, only to be rewarded with a sharp slap on his knuckles. He quickly withdrew his hand, though he was careful to keep her firm hold on her waist with his other.

“I have not been struck so much since I was an elfling.”

Rhinure took the injured palm and cradled in against her chest, soothing the poor injured limb. “That is probably because you have never put your hand in so many off-limit places since you were a child.”

“And it is still as much fun as I remember,” said Legolas huskily, able to feel Rhinure’s smooth skin under his palm but not being able to explore it as he wished.

“You are incorrigible. Is that all you think about?” Rhinure stepped back.

“Not all the time – just most of it,” Legolas said sheepishly. Rhinure sighed and turned away. 

“Are you telling me you do not?”

Rhinure smiled and looked over her shoulder, “No – just every waking moment and most of the sleeping ones as well.”

It took Legolas a moment to realise that she was teasing him. 

“My Lady, I do believe you are mocking me.”

“I always preferred jesting as a word.”

“Come here.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“So have you thought about it?” 

“You will not give up, will you?

“No.”

Arandur did not slow his pace as he asked, “What do you wish to speak of?”

“Is that assent?”

“That is a question. Even general conversations can have a gist.”

“Mayhap you should begin,” said Cothion, hesitating now that he had the chance he had waited so long for.

“I did not ask for this conversation.” Arandur gave the password to the next sentry, pleased to notice that his way was barred until he did.

“You spoke the password in front of me.”

“Is that what you wished to speak of?”

“Will you change it tomorrow?” asked Cothion, ignoring Arandur’s question for one of his own.

“No.” Arandur quickened his pace, eager to finish this patrol and leave, preferably without Cothion following him.

“Do you expect me to believe that?” Cothion, too, walked faster, keeping abreast of the younger elf.

“No.”

“Then why did you answer so?”

“The question deserved it. When you knew what the answer should and would be, why did you ask?” Before Cothion could reply, Arandur continued, “Since you obviously have nothing to say, I will take me leave of you.”

“Wait,” Cothion interjected, “this time the question is real.”

“I am waiting.”

“You changed your patrolling route tonight, did you not?”

“Why do you say that?”

“The guards were too surprised to see you for this to be routine. And knowing what I know of you, you would not patrol such an easy, well-defended route yourself. You would only keep the most vulnerable spot under your direct supervision.”

“Perhaps this was a surprise inspection.”

“Or perhaps you did not want me to see the chink in Mirkwood’s armour.”

“You of course forget one more possibility, Commander.”

“Which is?”

“That you do not know me as well as you think. This very well could be my normal route.”

“Is it?”

Under the intense and knowing gaze of the Avari Heir, Arandur was forced to be honest. “No.”

“Then I am correct.”

“If you wish to think so, then you may. And now, if there is nothing more, I bid you goodnight.” Arandur stopped near the entrance of the guest wing. “Your room is through here, around the right corner.”

“I know. I, at least, have not changed so much as to forget a route once shown to me.” Cothion said smugly.

Arandur shook his head, “You were always good with directions – giving them as well as remembering.” Arandur bit his tongue but it was too late to take back the bitter words.

 “And you were always the best at following them.” Cothion looked at Arandur, committing the face to his collection. “Are you still so?” he asked gently, hoping for more time with his brother even though he knew that the answer would be yes.

“Naturally, that is what I do best–obey.”

“And whom do you obey?” Cothion asked, holding his breath slightly. Would Arandur answer as he expected – as he hoped.

“My King,” said Arandur firmly. There was no hesitation in his voice, though inwardly he questioned whether the answer was truthful or just meant to hurt the older elf. This was a question he had often asked himself but had unable to find an answer. Why was he so confident now?

“And what of your obedience to your people?” Cothion demanded, stung at the words.

“I know what you are doing, Commander, and it will not work. I will not be forced to choose between my duty and my people.”

“And if that choice came?” Cothion persisted. The choice would come; Cothion knew it and he wanted his brother by his side – the right side.

Arandur face twisted but he did not hesitate. “Then the Avari would lose.” As soon as the words left him he blinked, dazed that he had said such a thing. Was this the truth that he had been hiding been for so long? The truth which he had accepted but never acknowledged for it completed his desertion?

Cothion sucked his breath, shocked that Arandur would admit so much and so openly. “You would ignore all ties to your people so easily?”

“I did not say it would be easy – but if my people make me choose then, yes, I would choose the King,” insisted Arandur. He hoped he would never be put to the choice, but he feared that Cothion asked with deliberate intent. What did his brother know to ask him such an intemperate question?

“I do not believe you.”

“That is your choice.” Arandur started to walk away once more when Cothion stopped him again.

“Why?” asked Cothion softly.

“Because in all the time I have known him, the King has never done anything which would make me doubt him.” Arandur believed that – if there was anything he believed it was that.

“And the Avari have?” Cothion demanded.

“The Avari took my life away from me.”

“But they gave you this one too,” Cothion reminded the younger elf.

“This life would have not been a life if it had not been for the King.”

“Explain.”

“The King accepted me into his world and gave me a change to prove my Honour – something which the Avari denied me when they sent me away. He let me serve when they did not,” Arandur swallowed before forging ahead, “when you did not let me serve.”

“You did … do serve, by being here,” Cothion insisted. He was unsure was to say in the face of such conviction. Arandur was trying to hurt him, Cothion could see that but neither was he lying. What has Thranduil done to steal his brother from him?

“Perhaps – but in your place the King would have found a way to let me be with my people and still serve.”  Arandur turned away, lump forming in his throat. Thranduil would have found a way, he believed that – he had to believe that.

“That is speculation of the worst kind, born of wishful thinking.” Cothion pointed out, struggling to control his anger. He was convinced that Arandur was trying to hurt him but he would not succumb, he would not let this trick work.

“It is speculation based on what I know of the King. I have seen him fight against the darkness, against all odds and still win. He would have found a way.” The more he repeated it, the stronger the conviction became.

If he said it often enough perhaps he could convince Cothion too and maybe then Cothion would leave him alone. “And I also know,” Arandur paused until he was sure Cothion was listening, “if the King makes me choose it will be because such a choice is forced upon him.”

“And you think the Avari would not be similarly forced!”

“There is always a choice – have the Avari not always taught us that? Do you now tell me that we have been taught wrongly?”

“I am saying that sometimes life is not so simple that is can be captured in simple maxims.”

“Then the Avari have misled us all – what else have they lied about?”

“We do not lie – especially to our own.”

“Then we are wrong.”

“At least you still consider yourself as one of us,” Cothion pointed out gently, taking hope from the admission.

Arandur shook his head. “Goodnight, Commander.”

Cothion called after the dark elf, but the Captain determinedly marched on as if he could not hear. Cothion watched until the shadows swallowed his brother and then stood watching the hall a little longer.

He did not know how long he stood there before he was aware of another pair of eyes watching him. His senses were so dulled by the conversation that it took him a while to realise that the gaze was not friendly. Not necessarily unfriendly, but whoever watched him was no friend. Cothion turned carefully, taking in the Hall, but he found nothing. Whoever spied on him, and he was sure it was a spy, was very good.

Cothion smiled, relishing the distraction. He knew he would be watched as soon as he entered Mirkwood, but he had not realised he merited such talent. Easing his sword from his sheath, enjoying the sound of the metal in the silence, he wondered if Mistress knew the Avari were watched. If not he would have to tell her, and tell her now. 

With that Cothion strode off towards Rhinure’s chambers, determined to share his misery with someone tonight.

Or was it to make someone miserable tonight?

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Maenon let out a deep breath as Cothion left the Hall. That had been close – interesting, but close. He had not expected the Avari to have been so perceptive as to sense his presence. The Avari Commander was good, better than his Mistress. But Maenon could see why he did not lead his people.

The little Princess had managed to control herself and help the Captain. The Commander had just managed to hurt his brother; Maenon was too experienced not to recognise the anger for what it was. Maenon had never seen Arandur lash out like that before. In some ways it was comforting to know that a living, hurting heart beat under that stone chest. There was hope yet for the Captain. 

And even more interesting – Arandur and Cothion was brothers. Maenon wondering if the King knew. If he did not, would Arandur tell him? Would he mention this conversation and the pointed question Cothion was asking? Making the Captain of the Home Guard choose against his King was sedition. The King would have to be informed and if Arandur did not do it, Maenon would do it himself in the morning.

Maenon smiled as he walked away from the corridor. The King had been right about Arandur – the Avari had not given in to his people. His loyalties lay with the King, even if he did not know it. That instinctive answer had been more revealing that Arandur would have like. Thranduil had read his Captain well. Maenon had though Thranduil’s faith in the dark elf misplaced and had recommended a closer watch on the Avari, if not complete removal. Thranduil had rejected the suggestion immediately, and he had been proved right.

Yes, the King would be pleased. Things were falling into place as he had predicted.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 6 – Realisations

“You did well.”

Maenon turned to acknowledge the compliment with a quick bow before heading down the hall. The King had been pleased and there was still much to do. Maenon hoped that Thranduil would head his warning about the little Princess’ Heir and the Captain. Maenon did not know exactly what history plagued the two Avari but he recognised that blood called to blood. Mirkwood, no – Eryn Lasgalen – could not afford divided loyalties.

There has been a restlessness at the borders that made Maenon’s senses prickle. It was not a sense of encroaching evil or even uneasiness about the strength of the Border Patrol. The Prince’s company was well trained and the Captain had confidence in their abilities. Nevertheless, Maenon could not help but feel that something watched the elves and he was uncertain if it was friendly.

Not evil but not good either. Neutral – if that were possible.

Maenon shrugged and hastened his pace; there was one particular conversation he was interested in overhearing today. He had seen the Princess head towards Cothion’s room early in the morning with a most determined stride and was curious as to what caused that set expression.

“Why in such a hurry, Commander? Life is too short for such haste.”

Maenon mentally groaned at the voice, if there was one elf guaranteed to waste his time, it was Herenion. “I will exist as long as Arda does. Life cannot be too short.”

“Ah, that is all a matter of perception,” said Herenion sagely. “If you hurry always so then you will never know when Arda ends for you did not stop to hear its song.”

Maenon mentally rolled his eyes but did not slacken his pace. Perhaps if he hurried he could outrun the bodyguard.

“So, you are not going to answer my question, are you?” Herenion’s longer strides easily matched the shorter elf’s.

“Had you asked one?” Maenon tried walking even faster but Herenion seemed determined to keep up.

“Of course, I am surprised you do not remember. Perhaps you are getting too old. I should tell the King.”

Maenon stopped short and glared at the too cheerful guard, “Ask your question.”

“Now only if you had stopped earlier.” Herenion paused only to quickly continue when Maenon stepped forward in warning, “I was just wondering where you were heading.”

“To observe the little,” Maenon paused and changed his answer to a curt, “On the King’s business.”

Herenion shrugged and gallantly let the Captain pass, suddenly serious eyes noting the direction the elf went.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Though Anor’s light was biting today, Legolas was proud to note that all candidates stood at perfect attention, watchful but not stiff. He glanced at Arandur next to him who nodded imperceptibly. This lot would be accepted.

He dismissed the guards, motioning Arandur to walk with him. “I am pleased with these new candidates. They will make a find addition to the Border Patrol.”

“Do you not mean the Home Guard, my Prince?”

Legolas shook his head, “No, I meant what I said. These volunteers will go to the Border Patrol.”

Arandur stopped walking to face the Prince, “The Home Guard has always had first choice of any new recruits, my Lord.”

“Times change, Captain. They are needed more urgently on the Borders.”

“With the recent surge in activities they are needed to protect the settlements and the Palace.”

“We are no longer at war, Arandur. We have do not have to be so defensive in our thinking any longer.”

“Neither do we have to compromise on our defence. I would have thought that the priority remains on strengthening the numbers of the Home Guard. Why else make an alliance with the Avari?”

Legolas smiled, “I find it interesting that you automatically assume that the Avari would not be able to supplement the Home Guard’s numbers. Do you not trust them to defend my people, even under your own supervision?”

Arandur ignored the bait, thinking it better to keep silent on this subject. “This is not about trust, my Lord. The Avari with never serve under my command in the Home Guard.”

“Why not?” Legolas asked with genuine curiosity.

“They will do what Mistress asks, even if it means fighting alongside the Wood-elves. But she cannot command them to serve another Master. They will never serve the King.”

“You do.”

Arandur shook his head, “I was never commanded, I offered. Unless the entire Clan decides to make that choice, the Home Guard will still need more people and quickly. Too many elves have wearied of this constant fighting. They will soon sail and the Home Guard will falter.”

“But it is possible,” Legolas insisted, not about to be deflected from the idea. “With the Avari backing us, now is the time to drive the last vestiges of evil from Eryn Lasgalen, not to continue to hide behind the Gates of Mirkwood.”

“Of course it is possible!” Arandur forcibly maintained his calm, realising with no measure of trepidation that he did not like having his position challenged. It was one thing to defer to the King, but as Captain of the Home Guard, his decision on the defence of the Realm had rarely, if ever, been challenged. With the Prince on the Borders, fighting to keep the orcs and spiders at bay with what he was given, there had been no one to gainsay Arandur’s authority. To suddenly find that position reversed by this young elf was disconcerting.

*~ Was this was Cothion felt when Mistress took her vows? ~*

“Then you agree with me.”

“No.”

“I want the recruits for the Borders, Captain.” Legolas stopped walking and confronted the dark elf, finally losing what little of his patience that was left.

“That is not for you to decide, my Lord.” Arandur resolutely held his ground.

Legolas shook his head and smiled, confusing Arandur with its unexpected appearance. “How can you call me ‘my Lord’ and disobey me all in the same breath?”

Arandur blinked at the wry humour behind the question. “Because you are wrong.”

Legolas drew himself up to his full height and said coldly, pleasant veneer finally rubbed off. “I will rid my forest of the evil that haunts it with my wife’s help. Will you stop us?”

Arandur lifted a sardonic eyebrow, “And do you know where this evil lies that you so blithely make such promises? The King was unable to do so, why do you think you will succeed?” Before Legolas could answer, Arandur continued, “If you go charging into something you have no idea about, you will leave your people unprepared and unprotected. Has one Quest changed you so much that you have forgotten everything you have learnt? We have always fought for what is ours but we have never taken the offensive. We do not have the strength to do so.”

“We do now. The Quest taught me much, things which you have not learnt. Risk must be taken if victory is to be achieved. The courage of a few can overcome many odds, more than you can imagine. If you do not have the courage to take that risk then let me take it for you. I know this is right – I can feel our time is near if only we grab it now.”

“I do not know what you feel, my Lord,” said Arandur formally, “but I know this. You have given me no facts on which I would consider giving you the extra numbers. And, yes, while the decision lies with the King, I will not recommend this course of action. There is no reason to change what has served us well.”

“Change will come, whether you like it or not, Captain,” challenged Legolas.

“It will have to wait until your return,” Arandur pointed out. “Or were you planning to take on new recruits, only to leave them while you attend weddings and banquets in Gondor?”

“They will keep till then.”

“They will be mine by the time your return.” The Avari’s voice betrayed no uncertainty.

“That is a challenge I gladly accept, Captain.” Legolas saluted and walked off, fuming behind his once again lovely smile.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“I have never seen you argue so much in all your life as you have since your return from the Quest.” Herenion’s lazy, amused yet disapproving voice stopped Legolas in his tracks.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

Legolas sighed and turned to face Herenion. “Why is it that you are never there when I need you?”

“I think you were doing fine all on your own.”

“You truly think so?” Legolas asked dubiously. There was something in Herenion’s voice that was just not right.

“I think you were most successful in upsetting our fine Captain, who has always toiled so diligently for the Realm.”

“I did not mean to do that.”

“Then why argue with him so?”

“He was wrong.”

“And did you convince him otherwise?”

Legolas shook his head. “I think I just put his guard up.”

“And thus managed to make your task all the more difficult. It is not the Captain who will give you the troops that you want, but the King. And the King has his own concerns and ideas about defence. If you had Arandur’s support it would have added weight to your argument and gone a long way in convincing Thranduil. Now,” Herenion shook his head. “You like things to be difficult, do you not?”

Legolas threw up his hands in defeat, sinking onto a nearby bench. “Why is it that you are always around when I make a fool of myself?”

“I cannot help it, you give me so many opportunities,” Herenion jested as he took the seat next to the young elf.

Legolas pulled a sour face at the joke. “I think you can smell it when I am trouble.”

“I do not know about smelling trouble but I can definitely feel it. When you are in trouble I feel it deep in me – here.”

Legolas looked up to see Herenion point to his heart and knew the truth behind those words. “Why did you come looking for me?”

“I am your Bodyguard, am I not? I should be where you are.”

“Herenion, I have not needed a guard to shadow my footsteps for a long time, especially so near the Palace. If having you near did not make Adar breathe easier I would have reassigned you ages ago.”

Herenion lent back, casually draping an arm over his young charge’s shoulders. “And what makes you think, little Prince, that you would have any say in where I go? Since you so readily admit that having me near makes Thranduil feel secure, I am going to be stuck be your side like a burr until Arda’s song ceases.”

Legolas sighed, with a little more drama than justified. Herenion knew as well as he that the elder’s elf presence was a comfort not only for Thranduil. “What had you come to see me about, Herenion?” Legolas had meant for the question to come out as firm, but even to him it sounded lovingly exasperated.

Herenion smiled briefly, wondering where to start. It had seemed all so clear when he had seen Maenon leave the King’s chambers. He would warn Legolas about Thranduil’s plans without really betraying the King’s trust. After all, Legolas deserved to know what was happening. He deserved to know Thranduil’s suspicion about the Princess, before Legolas became more entangled than he already was. Herenion owed him that much.

But where to begin and how to do it without bringing down the wrath of Thranduil on him? ‘Your father is spying on your wife’ just did not have that subtlety he was looking for.

“What is it, Herenion?” Legolas asked concerned. “You are never this quiet. It must be serious.”

Herenion leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “I believe it is. You might disagree.”

“Why do you not tell me and let me judge?” Legolas encouraged gently.

“Well, it is a little complicated,” Herenion hedged as the words, which by nature should have come easily, slipped away from him like water through a cusped hand.

“Is it ever uncomplicated?” Legolas asked wryly. “Tell me.”

“I saw Maenon today.”

“Good for you.”

“I saw him leaving the King’s Chambers.”

“Such an unusual occurrence for the King’s Captain to be in the King’s chambers, is it not?”

 “Be serious, Legolas. I am trying to tell you something important.”

“You saw Captain Maenon leave the King’s chambers today. It does not yet sound serious to me,” said Legolas lazily.

“You are not letting me speak.” Herenion sighed, clasping his hands together, trying to find the strength to do the right thing, to speak the truth, to cut through this predicament. “I saw Maenon today, heading out on the King’s business. He was heading,” Herenion paused, “or at least, it looked like, he was heading towards …”

“Herenion.” The tone was so firm that Herenion trailed off to blink at Legolas. “Perhaps you should not finish.”

“If I do not finish then how will you know what I saw?”

“Maybe it is best I do not know what you saw – or thought you saw.” Legolas repeated firmly.

“How can you say that?” Herenion demanded when he realised that Legolas’ words were a caution not a question.

“If Maenon was on the King’s business then that is between him and the King. If the King wants me to know then he will tell me.”

“And if he does not tell you?”

“Then I do not need to know.”

“Even if it concerns your wife?”

Legolas hissed as if scalded, “Herenion, we will not speak about this.”

“But we must,” Herenion insisted, more convinced than ever that Legolas had to know what was happening. He could not let him ruin his marriage through ignorance.

“Herenion, please.” Legolas begged but to no avail. Herenion was determined and a determined Herenion was implacable.

“I saw Maenon today and he was going to keep an eye on your wife.” When Legolas kept silent, Herenion looked up incredulously. “Did you not hear what I said?”

“I heard – all too well,” Legolas whispered.

“Then perhaps you did not understand. Your father is spying on your wife.” Herenion winced at the words – so much for subtlety.

“My King is spying on the Avari. There is a distinction,” Legolas returned quietly.

Herenion’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “You knew.”

“I suspected.”

“And you said nothing?” Herenion was shocked that his little Prince could be so close mouthed – so much like his father.

“What would you have me say when my own company keeps an eye on hers? That the King would be less vigilant? The only thing I am surprised about is that he thought the situation merited Maenon’s attention.”

“And you are not worried about that? You are not worried about what Maenon will do to your wife?”

Legolas glared at Herenion, slightly pale but resolute. “I would not have to worry about it if you had not taken it upon yourself to tell me.”

“So you would have ignored the problem?”

“There is no problem! All you have seen is Maenon leave Ada’s Chambers. That does not prove anything. Until the King tells me otherwise, there is no problem.”

“And are you so sure that the King will tell you if there is?”

‘The King will not hide anything of import from me. I am his son and Heir,” stated Legolas confidently.

“As he told you about his spying mission on your wife?” asked Herenion recklessly.

Legolas stood up from the bench. “Why could you not let things be?”

“I thought I was protecting you,” said Herenion, a little hurt at this turn of events. 

“And I appreciate the thought, but what would you have me do, Herenion? March up to Rhinure and tell her that the King’s spies watch her and she should be careful?”

“Yes.”

Legolas sat down once more in surprise. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am. I want you to go speak to your wife.”

“Herenion, why do you think Ada allowed me to go to Gondor?”

Herenion blinked at the change of topics but answered the question nonetheless. “Because you wanted to go.”

“What are you hinting at, Prince?”

“Perhaps my being away will prevent the Father from interfering with the King?”

“Do you honestly believe that about your father?”

“What I believe is irrelevant. I know that with Rhinure and myself away from Eryn Lasgalen, there will be less restraint on Adar. In his own way, he cares for her. With her gone, the Avari will lose their most personal face. What will hold the King back from his plans then?”

“You cannot know that. This is just speculation.” Now it was Herenion who denied what was being said.

 “It was speculation. Now that you have confirmed that Meanon watches my Lady, it is much more.”

“The King is not so cold.”

“The King is the King – hot and cold as needed.” Legolas shook his head at Herenion’s faith. “I do not say that this was the prime motive in allowing the visit. Adar loves me, and knows how much I want to be in Gondor to share this occasion – and there is information to be gathered and embassies to be formed. I am the best suited for the task. However, I know my father like the beat of my own heart – this is an opportunity he will not waste.”

“And you will tell you wife nothing! Even though she leaves because of you? Even though you are the only reason why the Avari will be unprotected?” Herenion persisted.

“I do not know!” Legolas exploded. “I do not know what the King plans and I have consciously avoided asking him. If he holds back then he too must have a good reason. I cannot tell Rhinure anything if it will jeopardise my people.”

Legolas jumped up again, striding back and forth in agitation. “I did not want to deal with this. I did not want my duty to compromise what I was building with Rhinure. I did not want this.”

“You cannot ignore the problem, child. If I had not told you, it would not have changed Maenon’s charge.”

“At least then I would have only my suspicions and no proof.” Legolas said belligerently.

“You have to speak to her.”

“You mean I have to choose between her and my people.”

“I say nothing of the sort.” Herenion, too, rose in anger. “She is your wife.”

“Who hides things from me.”

“As you do from her!” Herenion calmed enough to continue reasonably. “If you do not make a move, any move, to win her trust, you both will always circle each other as predators over prey. You must speak to her – confront her over what she hides. Perhaps then neither of you will need to rely so much on such machinations.”

“Somehow, I highly doubt that.”

“You will never know if you do not try,” Herenion insisted.

“You are putting me in a position which could hurt the Wood-elves.”

“Or save them. A little honestly cannot hurt. If only both elves sat down and truly talked there is little that cannot be solved.”

“I wish I could share your faith,” said Legolas sadly.

“If you do not make an effort then you will never have any faith. Speak to her.”

“And what if you are wrong?”

“And what if I am right? Do you not want all this suspicion to end?”

“Yes, but  ...”

“Then do as I say.”

“Herenion, I cannot choose between her and Ada.”

“Thranduil will understand, he always does. There is nothing he will not give you. Choose your wife if you have to. Cement that bond.” Herenion gently drew Legolas towards the Palace. “Besides,” he added slyly, “Thranduil will cave like a drunken Dwarf if you whine. He always has, why should it change now? You know I am right.

And Legolas wanted to believe that. With the memories of recent, pleasurable days and nights still fresh in his mind, he wanted to believe Herenion so much. After all, he would only warn her as any husband must. Just a little caution that the King was not unaware that she hid something and that, in the end, Thranduil would find out.

Yes, Rhinure had to be warned not to oppose the King. Legolas shuddered at the thought of his wife going head to head with the King. She would be crushed and he could not allow that. He could not allow harm to come to her – even it was from his father.

She must be convinced of the futility of keeping secrets from Thranduil and then she see that her only choice was to confide in Legolas. He would protect her.

He hoped.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure walked in the gardens, hand rested on the forearm of her Heir, wondering if Cothion would speak of what was bothering him. On any other day she would have dismissed this stroll as aimless, Cothion’s testing of her patience, if she had not known of the conversation between the two brothers. When Cothion had appeared at her door along with the early dawn, she had known that it had not gone well. Rarely did Cothion need his Mistress, but even Rhinure was sensitive enough to realise that this was one of those occasions.

He had not said anything and she had not asked, just quietly changing into her blackest gown, carefully pinning back her hair and assuming the role she had chosen for life. Cothion’s eyes had followed her with a hungry emptiness as she gathered her cloak, swinging it around her shoulders to ward off more than the morning chill.

Silently he offered his arm and silently she accepted, not questioning it when he led them towards the gardens. Cothion was no fonder of flowers and shrubbery than she, but at least the gardens were quiet and not likely to be occupied at such an early hour. Rhinure had nodded to Istion to follow, but at a distance. She did not think he would be needed, but then it could not hurt to have another arm for what was to come.

Together, the Avari Mistress and her Commander, walked the gardens, greeting the rising Sun with a delight that was perhaps instinctive and deeply personal to elves. As Anor’s light filled the sky, still no words were spoken, neither elf feeling the need to break the peace with something as vulgar as words. They were together, she was there when he needed her – she understood without being told and she healed him without having to see the scars.

Cothion, too, had understood that she was tired, that he was intruding in what was perhaps her only private time. Quietly, he led her to a shaded bench, hidden in a little corner, sitting and gently pulling her down next to him. Then with a gentleness tinged with the impersonal, he rested her head on his shoulder, a comrade offering rest to an other, allowing her to doze while he watched over her. Istion respectfully retired to a discrete distance, understanding that this was between Rhinure and Cothion – an elf who had been in her life longer than her own father.

It did not take her long to doze off, Cothion noted with some displeasure and concern. The Prince had tired her out. He would have to speak to her about that – while it was good that she was enjoying the pleasures the marriage bed offered, she must not wear herself out completely. With a tenderness he would never show if she were awake or if Istion was nearer, he carefully folded an arm around her, gathering her to himself so that she could rest more safely.

And that is how he spent the early hours of the morning, listening to the hushed music of Rhinure’s breathing and remembering a little elf who had fallen asleep in his arms with as must trust and faith as his young Mistress did.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

In another corner of the Palace, in a similarly early hour of the day, another silent conversation was taking place – though this one was not so comfortable or knowing. For almost an Age, Arandur had started his day by reporting to the King. Today was no exception in that he was in the King’s presence, but, unlike before, Arandur was hesitant. He wanted to tell Thranduil about the conversation he had with Cothion but he did not know where to begin.

“Have you finished?”

Arandur started at the relaxed, almost lazy question. “Finished what, my Lord?”

“Composing whatever is so important in your head.”

It was to Arandur’s credit, or perhaps, years of practice at being unsurprised at Thranduil’s prescience, that he did not jump at the comment. “Not yet, my Lord. I find my usual lack of words more of a hindrance today that ever,” he countered smoothly.

“May I help?” And before Arandur could answer, Thranduil motioned him to take a seat. This conversation was best conducted seated.

Arandur reluctantly slid into the chair in front of the King, taking care not to sink into the treacherous velvet cushions. He had never understood Thranduil’s penchant for such deep cushions.

Thranduil smiled as he watched Arandur struggle with the chair. Even after all this time it never failed to amuse, and enlighten, when people sat in that velvet chair. Legolas burrowed into it unselfconsciously, delighting in the softness. Eruante, his precious wife, whose skin was softer than the softest velvet, had always rested her back, using the cushions to support her spine. Herenion flopped in it – but then he always did with anything – deep cushions or not. After two ages he had managed to perfect that indolent pose, even if sitting on burning rock. And Arandur – he always looked like if the chair was a trap; and it was, sort of – one to make him relax and unwind – one that had never worked yet.

“Are you comfortable?”

“No,” said Arandur with characteristic honesty.

 “Would you like to stand?”

“Yes.”

“However, I would like you to sit.”

“As my King commands.”

Thranduil smiled and lent back in his own chair, which had no cushions and was not half as comfortable, or half as distracting. “I wonder if you will always obey my commands with such alacrity.”

“My Lord?” Arandur asked, puzzled by the question and fairly impatient to throw down a few cushions. How did anyone sit straight in this chair?

“Will you always obey my commands, even when they are unpleasant?”

“I have so sworn, my Lord,” Arandur paused and could not help adding, “I am sitting in this chair, am I not?”

Thranduil smiled slightly, acknowledging the rare jest from the Avari, but quickly his face turned serious. “Even if the orders countermanded your brother’s?”

Arandur’s spine stiffened and his face emptied. The silence continued a little longer as Arandur wondered what to say while Thranduil watched him closely.

 “Perhaps I should start. Who is Cothion to you?”

Thranduil’s tone and the abruptness of the question sparked an answering acidity, deep in Arandur’s gut, where he struggled to contain it. “He is the Avari Commander and Heir.”

“Not your brother?”

Arandur managed to keep any retort away from his lips while his face remained impassive. Instead he answered calmly, as befitted his Clan and station. “He was my brother. Now he is the Commander.”

Thranduil frowned at the distinction, understanding from Arandur’s tone that this was some Avari distinction that he was not appreciating.

“Can you truly divorce blood so casually?” asked Thranduil carefully, appalled that Arandur would say such a thing, but careful not to give away anything. He, too, could match Avari impassivity when he needed to.

“There is nothing to divorce. He sent me away.”

“And you resent him for that.”

 “If I do or do not, that is something for me alone, my King,” said Arandur firmly, ending that unwelcome line of questioning. “I repeat, Cothion is my Commander and Avari Heir. That is all.”

“Then does he command you?” Thranduil pounced on the unintended possessive in Arandur’s statement.

“Yes, I am Avari. I still serve the Clan.”

Thranduil sighed, wondering why conversations with Arandur became so circuitous. “Should I fear that your loyalties have been divided, Captain?”

“You once did and now I wear three Rings, my Lord. As long as I live I will serve you.”

“And if that puts your in conflict with your brother?’

“Then is it not good that I do not have one?” Arandur stood from the chair, determined to say what he had planned before the King confused and entangled the conversation further. “I chose to serve you, my Lord. Even if I could, nothing has yet made me want to change than decision and I doubt that anything will.” Arandur swallowed and forged again before Thranduil could say anything. “But Cothion might not understand this, my Lord.”

“Really?”

Arandur narrowed his eyes at the unsurprised inflection in Thranduil’s question. “You know.”

Thranduil shrugged off the impertinent accusation. “Yes.” He paused before asking pointedly, “Did you expect me not too, especially after your warning about the Commander?”

“Then this whole conversation was meaningless.”

“Nothing is ever meaningless, Captain. The meaning is just hidden better in some situations than others.”

Arandur rose, not wanting to get into another oblique conversation with the King. “Either way my caution was unnecessary, my Lord.”

“Not so, Captain. You acquitted your duty most admirably.”

“And what duty was that, my lord?” asked Arandur, unable to help himself from asking the question.

“Warning Us no matter what the danger.”

“May I be excused, my Lord. I have other tasks to attend to before I can see to the new recruits.”

“Of course.” Thranduil waved for Arandur to continue, waiting until the Avari was near the door before adding, “Thank you for trying.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“I talked to Arandur last night.” Cothion said quietly, as he watched the noon Sun blaze in the sky.

“I know.”` Rhinure returned as calmly. “Do you wish to discuss it?”

“I am uncertain as to what I should tell you. Arandur is King Thranduil’s Captain and the Avari in him seems to have been lost.”

Rhinure swallowed at the bleak statement. “Just because the Avari in him has changed, it does not make him any less a part of us.”

“How much does one have to change before one loses the core of one’s identity, Mistress?”

Such a loaded question and one Rhinure had so much difficulty answering for herself. “I cannot say,” she admitted honestly, knowing that if she looked up right now she would see the question in Cothion’s eyes – if she did not know then how could she prevent it happening to her?

“But I do know this, if one does not change, one is left behind. Change is inevitable.”

Cothion nodded, accepting the risk but not liking it at all. As he stood, he cautiously picked one rose from a nearby bush and handed it to his Mistress, bending over it slightly, causing his hair to swing forward. “For you, Mistress.”

“So gallant, Commander,” said Rhinure sharply, noting that Cothion’s profile was hidden from view.

Cothion came a little closer, carefully letting his hair shield his face. “We are being watched.”

Rhinure bent over the flower, pitching her voice low. “I know. We have been watched since I came to Eryn Lasgalen, and it has worsened since you came home with us.”

Cothion frowned, wondering if she baited him with her choice of words. “And you said nothing.”

“I assumed that you were aware of it too.”

“We were watched last night as well, Arandur and I, while we talked.”

“Then I hope everything you said was circumspect, for the King probably has a full report of it by now.”

“It might not have been,” Cothion said after a quick recall of last night’s conversation.

“What?” Rhinure’s fist closed around the bloom, snapping the stem, though neither elf noticed.

“I might have questioned, hypothetically speaking, who Arandur would have chosen if he had to – Avari or Silvan.”

Rhinure sighed, linking her arm through Cothion’s and leading him away from the trees that provided too much cover. “And you felt that necessary because?”

“Because I know what choice is coming.”

Rhinure dug her nails into Cothion’s arm, telling him to be quiet. “There is no choice to be made as yet. And it was unfair of you to put Arandur in that position for something that could very well never happen.”

“Life is unfair, Mistress. And do you really believe that we will not be made to choose – one or the other. Is that not why I am here – to make that choice?”

Rhinure looked coldly up at Cothion. “To help me make that choice – if it ever comes.” Cothion nodded his assent and she continued. “Baiting the Captain of the Home Guard is not helping. The King will not appreciate such suppositions.”

 Cothion flushed a dull red as the barb hit home. “I will be more careful, Mistress.”

“See that you are, Commander. Or I will have to send you back to Tirnen.”

Cothion said nothing, there was nothing to be said. Mistress Rhinure would do what she said and he doubted if she let him come to the Realm again, at least for a very long time, long enough to lose his brother again.

“Did you get anything useful out of him though?” asked Rhinure when she felt Cothion had enough time to head her warning.

Cothion nodded, telling her what he had learnt of the elves devotion to their King. If the Prince commanded even half of the loyalty that the King did, the Avari’s work would be a lot simpler. With Rhinure being able to claim Legolas’ support as his wife, the Wood-elves would fall in line. They would not let their Prince fail in his duty – no matter how unpleasant or dangerous.

 “He does.”

Cothion paused, surprised at Rhinure’s conviction. “And how do you come to that conclusion?”

“His company and the Border Patrol is proof enough, even if you did not account for the behaviour of his Bodyguard and the Palace staff.”

Cothion sniffed at the mention of Herenion. “I get the distinct impression that the First Guard’s loyalty is to the King and not to the Prince.”

“I would say that the King and the Prince often go hand in hand. Is that not what we gambled on – two elves, but one identity?”

“I have noticed it, too.”

“The King and the Prince together give a sense of continuity that is appealing to the Wood-elves. They work as a team – and a winning one at that.”

“Much like the Sacrifice and her Heir.”

Rhinure smiled, “Yes, much like us.”

“It will be interesting to see these two teams play against one another,” Cothion mused.

“Interesting was not a word I would use,” replied Rhinure archly, causing Cothion to grin.

“Then let us make it so.”

Rhinure shook her head, Cothion recklessness was intoxicating – though misplaced. “Let us avoid interesting situations for now. We will have enough of them soon without you creating your own.”

“Where is your sense of adventure, Mistress?” Cothion teased.

“Thankfully buried deep, where it should be. Perhaps I should bury yours as well?” said Rhinure mischievously, enjoying this time alone with Cothion.

“You will have to bury me as well then, Mistress.”

“That can be arranged,” smiled Rhinure, looking up at Cothion with a playful light in her eyes.

“I am sure you will manage,” grinned Cothion, looking – and feeling – ages younger. 

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas stepped onto the balcony overlooking the gardens, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rhinure. She was not in her rooms, but the guards had said that she was heading in the directions of the gardens.

Legolas paused, frowning when he saw his wife’s familiar shape walking alongside Cothion. The guards had failed to mention that she was not alone. Legolas’ already foul mood took a turn for the worse.

What are the two Avari talking about? And must they stand so closely? Legolas wondered bitterly.

He was about to head for the garden, when an unexpected sound stopped him in his tracks. So unfamiliar was it that it rooted him to his spot, shocking him to immobility.

It was the sound of Rhinure’s laughter, laughter that another had coaxed out of her.

And it was a sound that tore at his bruised heart.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“I think the Prince is about to join us,” noted Cothion, abruptly calming down from their unexpected hilarity. Emotions were dangerous but then, what was life without a little danger?

“How do you know?” asked Rhinure, careful to avoid looking at Cothion after that embarrassing display.

“I can see him watching us from the balcony yonder,” Cothion pointed with a swift tilt of his head.

Rhinure turned instinctively in the direction Cothion indicated, unable to disguise the delight the sight of her husband caused, even from a distance.

“Mistress, you are not being careful,” admonished Cothion lightly, drawing Rhinure’s attention away from the figure in the balcony back towards him.

“About what exactly?”

“About the Prince. We warned you, did we not, about the Prince and the distance you must maintain? Did I, myself, not warn you of emotional entanglements only a couple of days ago?”

“And I heeded the warning.”

“And still you turn towards the Prince like a moth towards a flame, unheeding of the danger?”

“Cothion, I just turned to see where he was, that is all,” said Rhinure reasonably, realising that Cothion did not mean to antagonise her, but was concerned.

“Mistress,” Cothion shook his head, leading her away from the balcony, where the Prince still stood. “Even now your eyes stray to where he stands. Why?”

“I wonder why he has not moved if he had seen us,” defended Rhinure.

“Are you sure?” Cothion asked tiredly, feeling the weight of this situation and his worry for his Sacrifice. “Are you sure it is not because you like looking at him?”

“And if I do? Where is the crime in that? He is a handsome elf.”

“That he is, and he knows it too.”

“What are you trying to suggest, Commander?”

“Only that Prince Legolas is well aware of his advantages and how best to use them.”

“Such as?” Rhinure asked carefully, wondering at the lack of animosity in this conversation. She had not seen Cothion so reasonable in such a long time – where was the impulsiveness which gave her an edge so often? This quiet, patient Cothion sounded too much like her First Advisor for Rhinure to dismiss what was being said. Though that also meant that Rhinure was not going to like what was being said.

“Such as his obvious beauty. The Prince uses that as a weapon too against you.” Rhinure remained silent, obviously sceptical of what Cothion was saying, forcing him to continue.  “You must have noticed that he always presents himself in a flattering light?”

“Do we all not do that?”

“To an extent, but even you, with your limited experience with the opposite sex, will appreciate the difference between making yourself presentable and seducing someone with your appearance.”

“Are you implying that the Prince is trying to seduce me?” Rhinure asked sharply, not liking the implication that someone was able to control her, especially her husband.

“I do not think he is trying – I think he is succeeding.”

“Commander!” Rhinure pulled away from Cothion but the older elf was faster. He held on to her arm, stopping her from walking away.

“Please, Rhinure, listen to me.”

The use of her name made Rhinure stop trying to pull away. Very rarely did Cothion ever overstep the convention of Sacrifice and Heir to address her so intimately and when he did, it was usually serious.

Cothion considered his words before speaking. It was important that Rhinure understood what he was trying to say, what he was trying to warn her about. “Mistress, first I must ask you to remember that this is not a test. I appreciate the difficult situation you are in and I only aim to help you.”

Rhinure nodded, “I will remember.”

“And you will take my comments for what they are – observations and not accusations?”

“I will try, Cothion; but I ask you too to be careful. This is my marriage of which you speak – there is a limit to which I will accept interference, even if it is in the form of well meaning observations. I am not trying to shirk my duty, but remember the position I am in.”

Cothion nodded and continued dryly, “Did you notice how quick you were to defend your marriage?”

“Should I not be?”

“Against me, my Sacrifice?” Cothion asked, a little hurt. “I am your Heir and your Avari. Why would I try to sabotage something that should be so important?”

“Would you not, if it were necessary for our people?”

“Undoubtedly, but are you saying that it is necessary for our people, Mistress?”

“No, but …”

“Then why do you assume that what I do and say is to your determent?”

“I cannot forget the warning you and the Council have given me time and time again, Commander. I must always work within their bounds otherwise …” Rhinure trailed off meaningfully.

“They were just that, Mistress – warnings. A declaration of what we must do if it ever became necessary. And they were guidance to – to help you in a situation that is not easy. We all appreciate and acknowledge that you may be our best hope in this time to come.”

“Then why do you question me so?”

“I do not question you – I just caution you.” Cothion repeated. “How could I not?” he asked sharply. “Look at yourself – you are exhausted. How can you do your duty in such a state?”

Rhinure frowned, not certain what Cothion was leading up to.

“The Prince is to blame for your current state.” When Rhinure made to protest, Cothion cut her off. “Even now you defend him – against someone who has proved time and time again to be on your side. Do you wonder now why I blame him for your situation?

“He is pushing you too fast and though you resist, the strain of capitulating is tiring you out, Mistress. All of us can see it.”

“I appreciate your concern …”

“Then heed what we say.”

“… however, your reading of the situation is a little simplistic. Legolas demands a lot from me, I know that, but I also know how much to give and what to withhold.”

“I am less certain, Mistress. From what I have seen, you do not seem to be withholding much.”

“What have you seen which is so different from my experience, Commander?”

“How many times have your nights ended up in his bed?” Cothion asked bluntly, throwing Rhinure off balance and stunning her into silence.

“I do not have to answer such impertinent questions, Commander.”

“Then I have my answer already – too many. The marriage bed is pleasurable, I will not deny that, and for one as young as you, that pleasure is seductive. But at the same time, it is dangerous as well.”

“I disagree,” Rhinure protested. “I am allowed to enjoy some benefits of being married.”

“Rhinure, you are deliberately misunderstanding what I am saying. Enjoy what the Prince can offer but be aware of the price he exacts.” Seeing Rhinure’s bewildered look, Cothion asked incredulously, “Please tell me that you are aware of how the Prince deflects confrontations with you by taking advantage of your physical bond.” At Rhinure’s silence, Cothion forced himself to continue, aware that Rhinure had lost what little colour she had. “Have you never wondered why so much of your time is spent in his bed and not talking?”

“I thought you wanted me to avoid conversation, Cothion. How better to do it than keep him otherwise occupied?”

“And if you were the one to take this course of action, I would commend you. But I have noticed that more often than not, he is the one who initiates the physical contact and you are the one who submits.”

“That is not fair!” Rhinure felt like a child who was being reprimanded by her elder for a grievous wrong and she did not like the feeling.

“Perhaps I am mistaken, but I do not think so. I think the Prince uses the obvious attraction between the two of you to make you do what he wants – and that is dangerous. Even you must realise that.”

“That is not fair,” Rhinure repeated softly, wrapping her arms around herself in an instinctive gesture to ward away Cothion’s words.

“Mistress,” Cothion gently took her hands in his, making her look at him. “I do not say this to hurt you but I must make you see. The Prince uses you.”

“Is that so wrong when I use him too?” Rhinure asked, with a broken shade of defiance.

“No. I am not saying it is wrong or right – the Prince too must have his reasons. I cannot say that I envy his position – a husband should not have to use any tricks against his wife but that does not change the fact that he does. I just want you to be aware and thus prepared for it.”

“I do not believe you.” Rhinure freed her arms and turned away.

“How did he convince you to accompany him to Gondor?”

Rhinure turned to answer but a horrifying scene flashed before her eyes, causing her to fall silent.

You will enjoy yourself, darling … Do you not want to spend the time with me? … We would be away from all other distractions – alone.

Legolas kissing her until she could not speak, Legolas coaxing her with his mouth and his hands until she said yes.

Legolas caressing her lips, cradling her in his lap, until she told him about Arandur and Cothion’s conversation.

His caressing her, running his hands through her hair – confusing her – leaving her defenceless.

Rhinure covered her mouth to silence the inarticulate cry, turning away from Cothion so that he could not see the pain on her face.

Cothion waved Istion back, who made to step forward when he saw Rhinure bend over. This was something that she must deal with herself.

“You know I am speaking the truth, Mistress. Even you if dislike what I say – you know I am right.”

“No,” Rhinure whispered. “It is wrong – so wrong. But,” she swallowed, forcing her voice to remain still, “it is the truth.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 7 – Ebb and Flow

Legolas watched Rhinure and Cothion from the balcony, torturing himself with the sight of the two of them together. Though he was too far to hear what they were saying, it was obvious they were having a private conversation. His fists clenched as Cothion took Rhinure’s hands in his. Enough was enough! Forgotten was his original task to warn Rhinure.  All he could think of was breaking up the cosy scene.

His stride was broken as he reached the gardens and saw Cothion draw Rhinure closer, whispering in her ear all the while kneading her shoulders. The action was so warm and tender that Legolas lost what little temper he was still clawing on to. With an impressive swirl of his robes, he marched up to the couple, smiling so brightly that he immediately put Cothion on the defensive.

“Greetings, Commander.” He nodded perfunctorily towards the Avari before turning to Rhinure, causing her to almost step back when she saw the glint in his eyes. She had never seen Legolas like this and, truth be told, it frightened her. There was madness flashing in his eyes and an anger directed towards her that was unnerving. Somehow, with a will that rebelled against this momentary lapse of cowardice, she stood her ground and nodded towards Legolas, not deigning to acknowledge him until he did her.

Legolas’ eyes flashed at the slight but he managed to prevent himself from reaching out and pulling her into his arms. Though angry, he was still conscious enough of his dignity not to humiliate himself in front of Cothion by losing control so.

However, he was angry enough to teach Rhinure a lesson and stake his claim at the same time. He gallantly bowed to Rhinure, sweeping her into his arms before she could react. “Greeting, wife. I am cheered immeasurably to see you so well.” He smiled down at her, holding her close to him, so much so that she could not move away without having to struggle.

Rhinure seethed at Legolas’ behaviour, conscious of how his arm encircled her waist, stroking her side in a rhythmic, possessive motion. But perhaps she was angrier at herself, for she admitted that if this scene had taken place a few scant hours ago she would have leaned into him eagerly.

If Legolas was aware of his wife’s stiff stance he said nothing, instead turning to Cothion and speaking pleasantly. “Forgive me, Commander, if in my impatience I have interrupted something important.”

“Nothing of import, your Highness. We had almost finished,” said Cothion, feeling all the while that all Legolas needed were fangs to complete the snarl he masqueraded as a smile.

“Then perhaps you would be so good as to finish whatever you were discussing so I could borrow my wife from you. I have need of her.”

“Certainly,” returned Cothion noting that Rhinure remained silent. “You will remember, Mistress.”

“I will not forget again. Thank you, Commander, you have done me a great service.”

“I live to serve you.” Cothion bowed and walked away, leaving the couple alone.

Legolas frowned, not liking the little exchange or the intensity in Cothion’s tone. His hold on Rhinure tightened as Cothion went past, as if he were trying to shield her.

Rhinure waited until Cothion had left before breaking Legolas’ hold. “What was so important that you had to interrupt us, your Highness?”

Legolas frowned at Rhinure’s use of his title. Her impertinence and the frigidness of her tone he was used to. But he missed the intimacy of his name on her lips. No matter what she said, or how she said it, the use of his name softened any blow. “Forgive my intrusion, my Lady. I could not curtail my impatience to greet you – properly.”

Rhinure knew that look in Legolas’ eyes too well. She braced herself as he stepped forward but it was for naught. Legolas’ mouth swooped down on hers, as if sensing his advantage, taking possession of hers in a blatantly intimate, and inappropriate, manner, moving over her lips hungrily, swallowing the weak protest she made. His hand came up to hold her head still as his tongue mated with hers.

Rhinure tried to hold herself aloof, truly she did, but the kiss made it difficult to concentrate on anything except how good this felt. Her hands which had been pushing at her chest, crept up around his neck, hanging on for dear life.

When Legolas finally let her go, he was pleased to notice that she had a slightly dazed expression on her face and her cheeks were flushed. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered reverently, wondering why he had ever thought her plain.

“Hmmm?” murmured Rhinure drowsily, struggling to remember something important.

Legolas’ eyes gleamed with victory as he took in Rhinure’s distracted state. And not one to pass up an advantage so conscientiously obtained, he smoothly voiced his displeasure at the amount of time Rhinure and Cothion were spending together, hinting subtly that she should curtail Cothion’s access to her.

“What you say is impossible. Cothion is my Heir and Commander, and there will always be much that we have to do together. If anything, I spend too little time with him,” rejoined Rhinure, voice becoming a little sharper as awareness returned after that dizzying kiss.

“Agreed,” Legolas smiled and lowered his voice to an inviting, husky pitch. “But would it not be better if you spent more time with me? Do you not think we occupy our time with more interesting activities?”

And down came his mouth again before she could stop him.

Rhinure shuddered as gentle lips ghosted over hers, coaxing her to relax and forget this dreadful conversation. As Legolas angled her head up, she let him, not having the strength to resist. She sighed, too close to caving but too weak to resist.

“That is it, dear one. Listen to me,” Legolas coaxed, trailing his mouth across her cheeks to her sensitive ear.

At those words, Rhinure immediately stiffened, pushing Legolas away. She felt as if someone had plunged a blade deep into her heart and was now slowly turning it, twisting it into her flesh. When Legolas made to hold her to him, she batted away his hands.

“How dare you?” Rhinure bit out, walking away from Legolas as fast as she could without running.

Legolas caught up with her. “Rhinure, what is wrong?”

“Why do you still insist on clinging to your innocence?”

“What do you speak of, wife?”

“Still you try to deny what you have done – and do – to me,” Rhinure bit out.

“Rhinure, I have done nothing.” Legolas held on to her arm so that she had to stop walking and look at him.

“And what did you call that display just now.”

“A kiss; just a simple kiss, heated by my ardour for you. Surely you do not blame me for that?”

“Spare me, my Lord,” said Rhinure scornfully. “That was not ardour.”

Legolas’ cheeks burned, as anger began to slip out of his control. “How would you know, my Lady? You profess to have no knowledge of emotion.”

“I know them, my Lord. I just control them, unlike you.”

“That was not so a moment ago, my Lady. I noticed a distinct excess of ardour on your part as well,” countered Legolas smugly, reaching up to caress her cheeks.

Rhinure shifted away so that he could not touch her; still furious but not finding the words to speak. She took a deep breath, forcing the bile back down so that she could deal with her Lord and Master. “You will not do that again.”

Legolas frowned at the command. Rhinure had never run from the physical intimacies they shared or tried to deny this only bond, fragile though it was. What has changed so to make her shy away from his touch?

“Do not touch you again, my Lady? I cannot promise that – and I do not think you would want me to.” Legolas stepped forward, determined to prove his point and re-establish his right over her. “I know you enjoy my touch.”

“Hear me well, my Lord. If you ever set out to humiliate me in such a fashion again, I swear by all that I hold dear, I will never let you near me again – let alone touch me.”

“Do not threaten me, my Lady, or I will prove how false those words truly are,” Legolas bit out, furious at being denied so.

Rhinure tottered back, stunned at this proof of Cothion’s words. In her heart of hearts, she had not believed the older Avari; she had wanted proof, and now, Fate be damned, she had it. Legolas has not backed down as she had hoped, declaring his insistence to be misguided and his timing to be a coincidence. He had instead threatened her.

Legolas would use what they shared as a weapon against her, to break her to his will.

She needed to be in control – be strong for her people. She was the one who had to make Legolas bend to her will – not the other way around. But the thought of using the intimacy of their marriage bed and their passion for each other against him, made her sick. And worse, it made her wonder if she had the strength to carry out this fool plan she had entangled herself in. The realisation that she had not fully considered what it would mean to use Legolas, what strength it would take, struck her with such a heavy blow that she tottered back, paling to such a degree that Legolas was immediately concerned.

“Rhinure?”

Rhinure shook her head, not looking at him. How could she hurt him like this, even if required by her people? How could she do this to another person, let alone to her husband? At first, she had had assumed that since they were married he would fall in with her wishes as and when she asked him. Later, she had admitted that some persuasion would be required. But only now was she realising that, bending him to her will would mean breaking him, as he tried to do her.

Legolas was worried at how pale Rhinure had become, not liking the defeated look in her eyes. He had not meant to hurt her, though he was not sure what he had done. They had fought before.  What had changed so that he has managed to slip under Rhinure’s guard with such obvious and deadly accuracy? “Rhinure, talk to me.”

Rhinure looked up at him, stiffening her spine. Somehow, from somewhere she would find the strength. She had to – the needs of the many, of her people, had to outweigh the wellbeing of one – even if it was Legolas. “What would you have me say, my Lord?”

“Tell me what is wrong.” Legolas lifted Rhinure’s chin so that she was looking at him.

“There is nothing wrong, my Lord. I have just come to a belated realisation,” Rhinure said with equanimity, finding the steel deep within her self.

“Rhinure, about the kiss,” Legolas paused, knowing that his kiss had somehow caused this winter, but lacked the right words to explain his jealousy at seeing Cothion and Rhinure together. “It was …”

“A mistake,” said Rhinure emphatically.

“No,” Legolas denied. No kiss between the two of them could be a mistake. Ill-advised, yes, but not a mistake. “While I regret the timing of the kiss, I cannot be repentant about kissing you, my Lady. It would be a lie to say that I did not think of kissing you every time I see you.” Legolas smiled hoping to break through the thaw in her eyes.

“Cothion was correct about you,” she said contemptuously before turning on her heel and leaving a stunned Legolas behind.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas watched with narrowed eyes as Rhinure stalked off, leaving him with questions and an encroaching numbness that usually signalled his getting ready for battle.

What was Cothion right about?

The thought of the older Avari threatened Legolas’ calm but somehow he hung onto clarity; he could not succumb to the rage he was feeling. He had to think if he hoped to win this latest skirmish. Somehow, Legolas was not sure how but he could feel the truth in his gut, the Commander was responsible for this new mess. Somehow, he had managed to turn Rhinure against Legolas – somehow, he had managed to make her shrink from his touch.

The image of Rhinure recoiling from him threatened to unbalance him even more than his anger. Legolas swallowed convulsively, shaking his head to clear it. Far better to think of Cothion and how to deal with his interference. For interference it was – how else to explain why Rhinure had run away from him? She had never rejected him so and the only person who could have made her do so was Cothion. Legolas would make him pay for ruining the only thing about his marriage that worked – for breaking the only hold that Legolas had over Rhinure.

It was a matter of great pride to Legolas that Rhinure wanted him as much as he wanted her, that he could convince her to do what he wanted by only touching her. That sense of power was thrilling and a little illicit if Legolas cared to admit it to himself – and he did not. What would he do now that Cothion had robbed him of even this advantage? How would he make Rhinure see reason now? She was a difficult adversary even in her weakest moments. While Legolas admitted that touching her entangled him almost as much as it did her, by thinking hard on what he wanted before he was lost, he was able to get his way. Now it seemed that she had adapted to his tactics.

What to do now? Legolas would be unable to bend her to his will by argument alone.  He knew that instinctively. She was too strong for that, too self contained and independent to need him. She would be prepared for manipulation but he had to try to blind side her somehow. It was the only way to win.

Legolas stopped short. He was not thinking of his wife and the hurt he had caused – he was assessing an enemy and planning his next and best course of action. This was not a marriage – this was battle – one that Legolas was fully and whole heartedly engaged in.

Legolas turned and almost ran from the spot, appalled that he could treat this most important relationship as a war. How had it come to this? How has this special bond between two people, something he had always venerated and longed for, degenerated into something this crass?

The awareness of how much he had changed since Rhinure entered his life, and not for the better, was a sobering one. Before her ascension, Legolas had always treated such manipulation as a necessity but an unpleasant one to be avoided whenever rationally possible. Even when he had realised that he could not dare treat Rhinure with the honesty and consideration he had always been brought up to show ellyth, he had at least deplored the situation. But now?

When had he changed so that he was automatically manoeuvring to be in the best position against his wife, without even consciously realising it? Where had the elf gone who was sickened by the thought of using his wife? How had he been replaced by this person who did what he must without even a single qualm? Was this the new status quo? Would he always try to beat Rhinure instead of trying to find a better, more honest solution?

Even now a part of his mind scorned such weakness, such self flagellation. Rhinure’s attitude left him with no other choice.  If he hoped to eventually build something worthwhile he would have to fight for it. And if the fight got a little dirty, it was all in a good cause, was it not? Sometimes, the end justified the means – how could it not when the end was something he wanted – needed – so desperately?

And then there were his people. He had to protect them, and the only way he could do so was if he made sure that he could trust – and bend – the Avari Sacrifice when he, and his duty, needed to. This was crucial – so then why should Legolas berate himself and examine his thoughts which such doubt? Had not being with Rhinure taught him that some emotions were best left behind?

Legolas laughed bitterly, what a time to realise that what he had with Rhinure was a marriage. If marriage was something that two people grew within, then was this not growth, a twisted sort but growth nonetheless? Fate had a sense of humour it seemed, Legolas thought caustically as he headed towards the Audience Halls. His marriage would have to wait until he found the time. At this moment, he had to sit in judgement over pending disputes and then speak to Thranduil about the new recruits. Rhinure could wait until later.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

A day passed, leading to another and then to another. Legolas and Rhinure successfully managed to avoid spending time together, limiting themselves to the minimum public appearances. Though they were always unfailingly polite to each other, everyone noticed that there was a frigidity to the relationship that had not been there before.

The Wood-elves looked askance at their Princess and wondered what she could have done to bring down even their shining Prince. If she could do that to him then what would she do to them?

The Avari just waited … for an opportunity to repay the Prince for the hurt he had caused their Sacrifice.

And amidst all of this Thranduil watched his plans totter and his ties weaken, all the while his heart ached for his son. He wanted to take the two young elves aside and make them talk, if not to each other then to him. But at times such as these, something more pressing asked for his attention, or something required the involvement of the Prince, or even the Princess. So Thranduil waited, and wondered what he could do.

Even more days passed and the time for the couple to leave for Gondor approached, and all wondered if the party would even make it to the edge of Eryn Lasgalen before something unexpected and untoward happened. Neither side was looking forward to the journey.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Mistress?”

Rhinure looked up from the parchment to see a concerned Istion standing in front of her. She smiled to herself.  She sometimes forgot how young Istion was. She could feel his concern for her coming off him in waves, even though he valiantly tried to hide it. “Yes?”

“Are you well?”

“Of course.”

Istion shifted uncomfortably, Rhinure was not making this easy, not that he had expected her too; it was just that he had not thought it would have been so hard to offer his support. “May I speak to you candidly?”

Rhinure leant back, putting down the messages she had been reading in an attempt to bury herself in work. For days, she had barely spoken a word to Legolas, beyond the pleasantries demanded in public. If she could have helped it, she would have avoided those as well, but she had a role to fulfil as Princess and Sacrifice which demanded that she spend some time in his company where others could see them. When all else failed, there was still duty.

Rhinure found that keeping busy helped numb her feelings. It had worked once before, when Sarniel had died and Rhinure was determined that it would work again. She would put aside these sapping emotions and then confront Legolas to force a resolution. All she needed was a little more time.

“I did not realise that you needed permission to be candid, Istion.”

“There are some occasions when it is best to be a little more careful.”

“And this is one because?” Rhinure asked, puzzled by the care that Istion was taking. Such circumspection was not natural to him – whatever he had to say must be serious.

“Because this deals with your recent distraction,” said Istion stiffly.

“My distraction,” said Rhinure flatly.

“We know of the estrangement between you and the Prince, and we can appreciate the pain it ….”

“And who is this ‘we’ who are so unnecessarily concerned?”

Istion swallowed but bravely continued. “Your Avari, Sacrifice,” stressing Rhinure’s formal title, breaking through the armour she had surrounded herself with and making her really look at him.

“What complaint do my Avari have, Second Guard?”

“This is no complaint, Sacrifice, just an attempt to draw your attention back to your people.”

“I never forget my people, Second Guard. Stop evading the issue and speak plainly.”

“Your recent falling out with the Prince has not been unnoticed by the Wood-elves and as a result, your Company is suffering from renewed suspicion and simmering hostility.”

Rhinure blinked but recovered quickly. “Have there been any specific incidences?”

“Not yet,” said Istion, noting that she did not deny the estrangement.

“But you think there will be?”

“If nothing is done, then soon.”

Rhinure stood, putting the correspondence from Tirnen back in the desk and locking it. It would have to wait until she handled this matter.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas stared out the window, taking a moment from his work. The noonday Sun shone brightly on the trees, filling Legolas with delight. He took a deep breath, filling his lung with the earth’s sweet perfume, opening his heart to the Forest and receiving its unconditional love, soothing his hurt temporarily.

At least someone loved him, his heart pointed out bitterly.

Legolas sighed and turn back to the supply requisitions. He wanted to make sure that the Border Patrol was adequately equipped and stocked before he set out for Gondor. Further, there were food rations that need to be sent out to the border settlements, which were still recovering from the War. He would have to amend some of the patrolling schedules so that some of the contingents could accompany the supply trains. The King did not want supply trains to be unprotected, even though they were within the Kingdom.

Legolas frowned, the thought of orc attack plaguing his mind. The elves had won the War, they should not have to work on a war footing still. It was unjust and the people were rightly tired of it. Legolas had been noticing more and more complaints were grounded in fatigue than in true grievance.

He looked at his Steward’s notes on the cases which would be appearing soon at the King's Hall. Some of them should never have been escalated for the Prince’s Justice, let along the King’s. But they had and Thranduil would not ignore them, but Legolas could understand why he had handed them over to Legolas for first perusal. Given the sheer number, even the Elven king could not wade through them quickly enough.

So much to do and so little time before he set out. Legolas turned back to the sheet in front of him, quickly going over the troop’s names in his head before amending the tally of arrows. Patrol 1 would need more now that Brêgond had assumed command. The elf was not known for his frugality. No matter how often Legolas had tried to impress upon him that quivers would not magically refill themselves, he still went through more arrows than two patrols put together. If his archers were not some of the best shots in the Realm, Legolas would have put Brêgond on guard duty a long time ago.

Legolas made a few more changes and suggestions to the requisition before signing it, sealing it with his Seal. A crown of leaves with two arrows going through it – the Seal of the Crown Prince with a little personal touch for Legolas.

Legolas smiled, remembering when he had asked his father when he was going to get a pretty stamp like he had. Thranduil had promised that it would be soon, and unfortunately it was – he had much preferred the days when he had sat behind his mother’s skirts and used the Great Seal to crack walnuts, instead of sealing orders.

Legolas smile widened as he remembered; he would have to get Rhinure to amalgamate her own Arms into the Princess’ Seal soon, perhaps before they left for Gondor …

Legolas pulled himself short. Plans would have to wait until he was able to talk to Rhinure without throttling her. Over two weeks had passed and he still could not look at her without seething. Of course, it did not help that whenever he turned around Cothion was with her. The two were joined at the hip and Legolas was now considering a more drastic solution – something on the lines of banishing the Commander from the Realm and tying Rhinure to his side for eternity.

“Whatever you are thinking, it is not worth it, ion nín.”  (My Son)

Thranduil’s voice startled Legolas out of his reverie. “I did not hear you enter the room, my Lord.”

“Obviously. What were you thinking of that put such a murderous expression on your face?”

“Nothing.”

“If you say so.  I have other things I wish to speak to you about.” Thranduil sat putting a pile of petitions in front of him.

“How may I be of service, my Lord?” asked Legolas, eyeing the pile suspiciously.

“Do you know what these are?”

“Petitions for the King’s Justice,” answered Legolas promptly, he had seen too many of these to now mistaken the Chief Justice’s seal.

“Very good. I am glad you have been paying attention all these years. Now can you tell me what these petitions deal with?”

Legolas shook his head, stomach churning at the gravity in Thranduil’s face.

“All, not most – all, have to do with mediation against the Avari. I thought you had dealt with this problem.”

“I thought so too.” Legolas frowned, skimming over some of the petitions – complaints about having Avari eat in their inns, suspicions about the Avari’s behaviours, petitions to move away from where the Avari stayed. Nothing Legolas had not seen before, but he was surprised at the volume. “I wonder what prompted this new deluge.”

“They are probably taking their cue from their Prince and his antagonism toward the Avari – especially the Avari Commander,” said Thranduil sharply.

Legolas gritted his teeth; Cothion was now causing problems for him with his people as well.

“I would like an explanation for your recent behaviour.”

“There is nothing to explain, my Lord.”

“Legolas, that was not a request. You have been distracted for far too long, so much so that you have not even spoken to your Company about the altercation.”

“I did not think it was any of their concern.”

“You did not think it was their concern when it happened in front of them?”

“It did not happen in front of them, Rhinure and I were alone at that moment – discounting Herenion and her Second Guard.”

Thranduil realised that Legolas did not know what he was referring to. “Have you talked to Faelon recently? Yesterday?”

Legolas blinked, “No, I have been caught up with other things. Faelon knows to come and see me in case of trouble.”

“Trouble can take many guises,” muttered Thranduil before adding, “Go speak to him today.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Now, explain to me what has been happening with the Avari Commander.”

“The Commander has been causing problems for me recently which I do not appreciate.”

Thranduil waited for Legolas to continue but nothing more was forthcoming. If his son was going to be stubborn … there was more than one way to skin a cat. “Perhaps I should ask Lady Rhinure directly. She usually knows what is happening with her Avari.”

“No,” Legolas burst out. “You should not involve her.”

“As you wish,” said Thranduil casually. He let a few minutes pass before continuing, “I think I will ask her to sit in during the audience as well. It is time she fully took over her duties as Crown Princess.” Thranduil ignored Legolas’ shaking head. “Besides, she should have a chance to defend her people.”

“Ada, please…” Legolas could not have Rhinure with him while he conducted his duties. He would not be able to endure it.

“What is wrong, ion nín? What are you avoiding?”

“Nothing.” Legolas took a deep breath. “Please trust me when I say that this is not the right time to involve Lady Rhinure.”

Thranduil nodded, realising that Legolas would not speak to him about the trouble he and Rhinure were having. He wanted to ask Legolas about it, but he knew he had to wait until Legolas was ready. Besides, there came a time when he had to let his son make his own mistakes, no matter how monumental they were. “Am I right to say that she is already involved, especially between you and Cothion?” When Legolas did not reply, Thranduil took his silence to be consent. “I will let you handle this, for now.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” said Legolas shamefacedly. He had not realised that his actions were having such repercussions.

“I suggest that you patch things up with Rhinure quickly and present a more united front. Perhaps take a tour of the villages before you set out. Be the happy couple no matter how far from the truth it is. News travels fast, and bad news the fastest; I will not have rumours of the Crown Prince and Princess spread to the rest of the Realm – especially the troops.”

Thranduil paused before he left the room. “And, Prince Legolas, this will not remain a suggestion for long.”

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas slumped as soon as Thranduil left the room. Things were worse than he had realised. He has been so lost in his personal pain that he had forgotten that the Wood-elves were taking their cue from him on how to deal with the Avari. If he showed discomfort and antagonism then so would they. It was not as if the Prince could be wrong, or that the Prince could be just a little petulant.

It was unfair that he could not have time to work out his problems with Rhinure, that no matter where he turned there was his duty and hers binding them, holding them back. He could not even dislike the ellon who was monopolising his wife without jeopardising the safety of his people.

Legolas sighed, wondering how long Cothion would stay, wondering why he was even here. It had been a month since Rhinure had come back with Cothion trailing behind her. Why had he not left as yet? Did the Avari not need him back at Tirnen? How much longer was he to stay and be a thorn in Legolas’ side?

Or was that the plan? Unbalance Legolas by angering him, keep him stewing in his own anger until he could see nothing but his wife? Could Rhinure be that devious? Or was it Cothion’s idea, perhaps a way to size up the Prince? Legolas would not put it past the older elf, completely absolving Rhinure of all blame without even consciously realising it. Legolas looked down at the paper covered surface of his desk. There was work to be done but he could not make himself get back to it, Rhinure’s face swimming before his eyes. He wanted to see her but knew he could not.

Legolas’ head dropped on to his forearms, but he could not block out her face. With a mounting desperation he emptied his mind and extended his senses towards the forest. The song of the trees would steady him. But it did not – opening his senses only allowed him to see the empty space where Rhinure’s feashould have been, the empty space that should be filled with her awareness. It was like watching an incomplete picture, as if the artist had forgotten to fill in the colours on half the canvas, leaving only thin pencil sketches on the surface.

Legolas clutched his head, willing himself to think of something else – anything else. And, sure enough, in answer to his call, another Song filled him, drowning out even the silence of his marriage.

As the surf crashed in his head and salt air filled his lungs, Legolas drifted away – finding some measure of peace in abandonment.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure’s slippers made little noise on the packed earth as she walked towards where her company were quartered. Istion walked two steps behind her, as appropriate, but where was Ehtewen?

“Where is the First Guard?”

“Having a word with the Commander.”

“About?”

“I cannot say for certain.”

“Speculate.” Rhinure was in no mood for evasions. It was bad enough that she had let things deteriorate so much, but she was not about to dither about finding a solution.

“I think she is taking him to task for aggravating the problem.”

Rhinure stopped, turning to face Istion so she could ask him carefully. “Aggravating what problem?”

“Mistress, as I said, the Wood-elves have been wary of us recently.”

“As we have been of them. What has changed?”

“Since we have returned, the Commander has been less accommodative of such behaviour. If the Wood-elves will treat us so then we are under no obligations to be cordial or to attempt to understand them further. In fact, the Commander has openly discouraged our mingling with the Eldar, pointing out that mixing with those who have betrayed us once will only lead to further pain.”

“He said this to the Company?” Rhinure asked incredulously, surprised that Cothion could be so foolish.

“Only after the company asked him.” Istion shifted slightly but finally crumbled under Rhinure’s glare.

“And why would they do that?”

“Well after he spoke to Arandur, things with the Wood-elves sort of came to a head and they needed advice. Since you were not there they went to the Commander.”

Rhinure swallowed painfully, aware that her shortcomings had let her Avari down. “Wait, he spoke to Arandur?” she asked suspiciously as Istion’s words filtered through.

“It was not too much of speaking, more of shouting actually.”

“Alright, when did he shout at Arandur?”

“I think it was a day or so ago?”

“Or so?” Rhinure blinked, she had not realised how badly the fight with Legolas had affected her. She had become careless and that was unforgivable. “What happened?”

“As far as I know, and I was not there, Commander Cothion sought Captain Arandur out. The Captain, it seems was not particularly eager to spend time with the Commander, but the Commander insisted. That led to heated words in which the Commander cautioned the Captain against losing his identity to the Wood-elves.”

“What did Captain Arandur say?”

“That if losing one’s identity meant keeping one’s Honour, then he was willing to pay that price. The King held his Three and he would honour them. Besides, the Commander was in no position to lecture him since he was no longer family. The Commander said that he was being a fool, but the Captain retorted by saying that if the Commander had to resort to such childish taunts then perhaps he should talk to you about removing him from Command.”

Rhinure sucked her breath, afraid to ask how Cothion reacted. “How many people were around to witness this little conversation?”

“Your Company, the Prince’s Company, and the new Silvan recruits.”

“This took place in the Barracks.” It was not a question.

“Yes.”

“And no one thought to inform me of such?” Rhinure asked sharply.

“We thought you would come to hear of it soon anyway.” Istion paused. “We waited for you to come and speak to us, as the King did with the Home Guard but you did not. The First Guard and I realised that you did not know so ….” Istion trailed off.

Rhinure was still having trouble processing what Istion had said. How could Cothion, a stoic in all circumstances, lose control so publicly? After a moment, something registered. “The King came and spoke to the Home Guard?” Istion nodded. “About the fight?”

“No. I do not think he mentioned the fight, he just kept Arandur by his side when looking over the new recruits. I think he even praised the Captain for his services to the Realm, and how his trust in him had never been misplaced.”

Rhinure smiled, at least Arandur’s position would not be compromised by Cothion’s unthinking actions. “Very clever …. The Prince did not speak to his Company?”

“Not that I know of.”

Rhinure nodded and continued on her way. “How is the Prince’s Company treating us?”

“With suspicion. Faelon has virtually stopped speaking to Agorion.”

“And Agorion?”

“Sees no reason to speak to Faelon. After all, the Silvan elves are the one who started this.”

“He sees nothing inappropriate in what the Commander did?” Rhinure demanded.

“No.”

Rhinure glanced over at Istion. “Do you?”

“No.”

Once again Rhinure paused in her stride. “Second Guard, please tell me that this is your attempt at being humorous.  Surely you must admit that the Commander handled this situation badly.”

“Perhaps his insistence and choice of venue were incorrect but he did not say anything wrong. The Captain has spent much time in the Realm, but he is still Avari. If he is in danger of forgetting that and his duty to the Clan, then as Commander, Cothion is absolutely correct in reminding him of that. Besides, it was Arandur who threatened the Commander and not the other way around.”

“And you do not think the insistence and the reminder were couched more in fear of losing his brother than concern for duty?” Rhinure asked tiredly.

“That is the Commander’s personal business. I cannot, and will not, comment,” said Istion stiffly, wary of getting into a discussion of emotional motivations.

Rhinure sighed, “Second Guard, you will have to learn that as a member of the Avari Council, sometimes you have to tread where no other decent Avari will tread. It is our bane and our privilege. If the Commander is emotionally overwrought, then it is our duty to point that out and help him correct it.”

“Forgive me Mistress, but I thought that was your duty. As Sacrifice, only you may command your Heir.”

“So it is, and one that I have been most remiss in performing. Lead on, Second Guard and let us see how I can salvage this mess.” Rhinure sighed and continued walking, all the while wondering why Legolas had not handled this problem before? And why had he not told her? Unlike Istion, he would see the seriousness of this development. Why then had he deliberately kept it from her?

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“I do not care what the Avari teach, you were wrong,” hissed Ehtewen.

“Reminding my brother that he is danger of losing what should be most important is not wrong,” insisted Cothion mulishly.

“He is not your brother!” Ehtewen erupted, barely managing to restrain herself from shouting. Though she took great pains to hide it, she was frightened at the swift weakening of the Commander’s control. Cothion knew the value of control and the necessity of keeping one emotion’s in check. What better example to the Avari than sending one’s own brother to the enemy as a token of trust? To see such a paragon succumb to the basest of emotions, anger and jealously, was frightening. How long before all of them fell prey to this Silvan madness, and forgot what the Avari had learnt so painfully over the Ages?

Cothion paled but managed to continue, “He might not acknowledge me as his brother but he will always be so to me.”

Ehtewen sighed, knowing that she had overstepped her boundaries. “You know what I mean.”

“I think he – along with the rest of the Company –have understood your meaning. Perhaps you would like to try again, a little louder this time. I think the few remaining elves in this Realm might have missed it.”

Both Commander and First Guard whirled to find the Sacrifice standing in the doorway.

“Mistress, we did not hear you coming.” Ehtewen stepped aside to let Rhinure enter fully.

“Obviously,” said Rhinure with cold sarcasm.

Sarcasm which only served to anger Cothion. “How ever did you find the time to come and see us, Mistress? You have been so engrossed in your own personal troubles that we feared that you had complete forgotten us.”

“I was dealing with other matters, Commander. I had hoped my Commander and Heir was more than capable of handling one Avari company and behaving in a manner befitting an Ambassador of his people. From what I have heard, I was sadly mistaken in my belief. You are neither capable nor trustworthy,” finished Rhinure, causing everyone to take a sharp breath in shock. Istion had the sense to bar the door and bolt the windows before more of this conversation leaked out.

“How would you know what I am capable of if you are never around to judge the situation? Hiding in your chambers from your husband is not a mark of a leader.  It is cowardice,” shot back Cothion.

“Retreating to gather oneself and prepare for the next phase of battle is a mark of sense. Charging ahead when the battle has been lost is a mark of a fool, Commander. And if need be, I will always prefer the coward to the fool.” Rhinure rose before Cothion could answer. “As much as I enjoy these verbal duels, I have little time for them. I will pronounce judgment.’

“Before hearing my side of the story?” Cothion demanded.

Rhinure looked Cothion straight in the eye before answering unemotionally. “Yes.”

“That is unjust, Mistress,” Ehtewen was forced to say, worried at this in-fighting. The Avari must be united. Otherwise they would never survive.

“So was the Commander’s jeopardising our cause.”

“I would never … speaking to my family is my right!”

“Duty before Blood, Commander. Did you not tell me that? Would you ignore what you preached if it is inconvenient for yourself? You will not confront Arandur again. Unless he seeks you out, you will not go to him. Is that clear?”

“You cannot do that, Mistress. He is my family.”

“I can banish you from the Realm, and then even this little hope will be lost to you. Is that what you wish?”

“No – but …”

“I will not hear anything from you. You have caused me enough troubles as is it.”

“I have only served you, Mistress. Your troubles were already there. I did not cause them,” said Cothion significantly.

“But today you added to them,” Rhinure said tiredly. “Give up, Cothion. Arandur is lost to you.”

“I will not believe that, Mistress. I will save him from losing himself.”

“Maybe he is not the one who needs saving,” mused Rhinure, shaking herself to get rid of the melancholy thoughts running through her head. “You will obey, Commander.”

“Always, Mistress.”

“And, one more thing. This applies to all three of you,” Rhinure paused to look at all three members of her Council, forcing them to break eye contact first, reminding them that she was the Sacrifice and she would not bend. “If any of the Avari ask you about how they should treat the Wood-elves, and I mean any, even I, you will advise them to behave with the utmost civility. You will advise them to seek out the Wood-elves and ‘make friends’ with them if need be. Under no circumstances, shall I hear of any quarrel between Avari and Wood-elf. Is that clear?”

“You would have us tell them something we do not believe to be true or necessary?” asked Ehtewen incredulously.

“I do not care if you lie to them, only that you obey me.” Rhinure bit out. “Since all of you insist on behaving like children, I will treat you as such.”

“And what of your own behaviour?” asked Istion, stung that Rhinure would speak so to him.

Rhinure clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. “Pray then that this is not a situation in which the blind leads the blind.” And with that she left three stunned, and scared, Avari behind in her wake. It had been a while since they had felt the cold flame that was hidden within the core of Rhinure, and it still burned viciously. 

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 7: Ebb and Flow Part 2 (Since the site would not let me add it as one chapter) :-(

Cothion turned to Ehtewen asking pointedly, “What will you do now?”

 “Speak to her.”

“Is that wise given the way she just reacted?”

 “Speak to me not of wisdom, Commander, given your recent behaviour,” Ehtewen retorted.

“I had just cause.”

 “From where I stand, so does she.” Ehtewen shook her head in disgust. “You crossed the line, Commander, and unlike the Sacrifice, you cannot accuse me of not seeing clearly.”

Cothion’s cheeks burned and his hands fisted tightly by his side, though he did not make a further mistake by raising them against the First Guard, no matter what the temptation. He wanted to break something, squeeze something until feeling left his hand and the ache, his heart. 

“Leave it be, Commander,” cautioned Ehtewen, knowing full well where his thoughts were leading. It was unfortunate that both Mistress and her Heir had broken down so easily. While Ehtewen understood, and at some level even sympathised, as First Guard she could not forgive. “Take a page from the lesson you have been trying to reach Rhinure.”

Cothion folded his arms. “I know not what you speak of.”

“You may deny the private conversations you have had with Mistress but you should know that she keeps no secrets from me.”

“Are you so sure?” Cothion challenged. “What of the secrets of the heart?”

“She has no secrets from me,” Ehtewen repeated confidently. “I have raised her. I know her.”

“I would not be so confident, First Guard. The child has grown up. She has changed.”

“Not so much that I cannot understand her, change her back if need be.”

Cothion mentally shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to pursue this topic. Time would show the truth, and he was certain that it would prove him right. Ehtewen’s understanding of Rhinure was unparalleled, but sometimes one could be too close to see clearly. For now he would allow the First Guard to believe what she would, but in Council he would not allow her illusions to cloud Mistress’ judgement. 

“I will speak to her, Commander,” Ehtewen repeated once more, trying to convince him that she could manage. It was imperative that he believed her before he left for Tirnen and spoke to Túrgwaith about convening the Council.

Cothion nodded even though he did not necessarily think her talking to Rhinure would solve the problem. He did not even know if the problem could be solved, but the First Guard had to try – Rhinure was weakening – flashes of her old steel aside – and, he had to admit, he was not helping. Perhaps it was best if he left Eryn Lasgalen. 

But to leave his Mistress unprotected did not sit well with him. No matter what Rhinure and Ehtewen thought, this was not about Aradnur – at least, not completely.  This was about protecting the Clan and that meant protecting Rhinure. At this moment, the Avari needed the Wood-elves, and therefore, needed Mistress to remain married to the Prince. When this moment passed, Mistress would be free to succumb to the madness he had glimpsed in her eyes. Till then she had to be strong.

Somehow, Cothion had to help. Perhaps speaking to the Prince would help ... warning him that Rhinure was not unprotected and alone. 

The Commander fell into silence and, eventually, so did Ehtewen, realising that he was no longer listening but pleased that he had fallen in with her plans so quickly; she had feared he would have made trouble by insisting on helping. Cothion meant well, but some situations required a subtle touch – a woman’s touch.

Neither elf noticed in their silent contemplation of the future, a worried Istion in the room. He had seen Rhinure command but he had never seen her like this. To order the Council to lie … how could that be correct? How could deception, especially from those sworn to serve and obey, help the Avari?

Istion shifted in the corner, feeling unnoticed and unimportant. What was he to do? He had to obey Mistress; there was no doubt about that, but how to obey when he thought she was wrong? The Avari and the Silvan elves would never be ‘friends’, and pretending otherwise would not make it so. Cothion was correct when he said that an Avari would lose his identity if he did not behave as an Avari. What was the Sacrifice doing by ordering something so contrary, so wrong?

Was it still one’s duty to obey even when one believed something different, or was it blindness?

The thought revolved in Istion’s head, finding no resolution. He glanced at the Commander and the First Guard, hoping for an opportunity to ask if they had an answer to his questions. When they did not glance his way, Istion slipped out of the room, hurrying in the direction Mistress had headed. Perhaps she could spare him some time to explain.

Perhaps she could spare him some time, period.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure marched out of the room, fuming at the situation she had been put in – fuming that Cothion did not display better sense. There was a time for passion, for madness, for that which teachings denied but which often topped the balance in one’s favour. It was not something that any of the Avari acknowledged consciously for it was dangerous – but like any dangerous thing, fire and passion, heat and insanity had their uses; they just had to be  harnessed sparingly and used very, very carefully. Rhinure heeded this reminder that Cothion still had not learnt how to do so properly. But most of all, Rhinure was fuming for she knew that in a similar situation she would have probably done the same thing – she would not have been able to help herself. Family tended to try one’s patience on the best of days and Cothion’s love for Arandur has always been strong – too strong. 

Rhinure could understand why he had behaved as he did but she was finding it hard to forgive him; she did not know if she would be able to find it in herself to do so. And if she was unable to forgive him, then was she letting her feeling of betrayal win? Was she not as guilty as he then?

Only one thought was clear in her mind, the behaviour of her Avari could not be allowed to jeopardise this alliance. The Wood-elves must be kept happy – somehow. 

“Where do you rush off to, my Lady? Tarry a moment – I have need of you.”

That sweet command wrapped in a question, stopped Rhinure in her tracks, making all her good intentions vanish together. All she wanted to do was hide, from him and from the part of her which throbbed with pain at the very sound of her husband’s voice. Rhinure was in such a hurry to get away from the compound, and that unpleasant altercation, that she did not see Legolas coming until strong hands dropped onto her shoulders.

“Careful, my Lady. You will mow down people if you walk any faster,” said Legolas pleasantly, keeping his hands firmly on her shoulders. They were standing so close that Legolas could fill his lungs with her scent. It was still potent enough to make him ache.

“Perhaps they deserve to be, my Lord, if they do not have the sense to get out of my way.” Rhinure shrugged her shoulders in an effort to get Legolas to loosen his grip but to no avail.

“Such callousness, my Lady. I despair of you.”

“Perhaps then you should leave me be, my Lord,” shot back Rhinure, looking up into Legolas smiling face. He was so close that his breath fanned her face, making her slightly light-headed.

“Never,” whispered Legolas seriously, as his veneer cracked for just a moment.

Rhinure swallowed and strove to change the subject. “What brings you here, my Lord?”

“I could ask you the same question but I think I have my answer.” Legolas’ eyes narrowed as he saw who emerged from the room behind Rhinure, but he made no move to let her go.

Rhinure twisted her head to see Cothion watching them. Istion and Ethewen had taken their places behind Rhinure. She shook her head, knowing what made Legolas’ tone frost so. “This gets old, my Lord.”

“I could say the same, my Lady, but I do not think you will listen.” Legolas smiled down at her, conscious that they now had an audience. Both the Prince’s and Princess’ company had emerged from their quarters, attracted by both their presences. Legolas frowned at the tense set of Rhinure’s shoulders, wondering if he should force her to stay. But that would defeat his purpose and destroy the illusion of harmony that he was trying valiantly to rebuild. Although the Prince’s Company were careful in going about their tasks, Legolas could see the covert glances they gave him and his oh-so-reluctant wife.

This would not do. If Rhinure ignored him any longer he would have to do something drastic. He could not allow her insult him publicly as well as wound him privately. But before Legolas could do anything, Rhinure relented and asked, “How may I serve, my Lord?”

Legolas smiled down at her, looking like a devoted newlywed to those around him. The Wood-elves smiled indulgently when Legolas raised Rhinure’s hand for a kiss of greeting, noting how he turned it around to kiss her palm as well. He was a new husband, not yet used to controlling such displays of intimacy. Each ellon and ellyth, warriors and immortals relaxed visibly, forgetting some of their troubles in a rush of affection for their Prince. They might not like the Avari or trust all of them but they were elves after all, and if one of them could inspire such affection in their discerning Prince, then, in the end, there must be good in them after all.

What the elves did not see, perhaps wilfully, was the tight grip Legolas kept on Rhinure’s wrist, or the warning his mouth formed on her palm when she jerked her hand back instinctively – stay. 

Rhinure struggled to keep still as Legolas’ mouth remained on her skin. She would be strong; she would not give into her pain no matter how much Legolas tormented her. She would not allow him to win this game he played with her.

“Was there something you wanted, my Lord?” Rhinure asked coldly, her voice never wavering.

In response, Legolas smiled even more brightly, dropping her hand only to wrap an arm around her waist to bring her closer to him. “Very much so,” he said huskily, looking deeply into her eyes and promising so many things that Rhinure was forced to look away in confusion, burningly aware of the avid audience they had attracted.

“How could I not want, when you are near, my Lady?” Legolas whispered as if Rhinure was the only person near, but not softly enough to be inaudible. If he heard the sigh of the ellyth around him, he gave no sign of it, his concentration focused exclusively on his wife, causing many in the now sizeable crowd to envy her. 

Rhinure stiffened even further, if that was possible, spine becoming ramrod straight. Even if Legolas was unaware of it, she could sense the presence of her Avari, could feel their disapproval at this blatantly public seduction that Legolas was attempting. After all they had been through recently, they did not need this public humiliation of their Sacrifice. She could feel her anger rise at this new tactic which so shamelessly hit at everything the Avari believed and held important about behaviour. His words might be soft but his grip on her was anything but. His fingers bit into her shoulder and unless she struggled there was no way she would get free.

Legolas gathered her even closer, tenderly brushing a lock of hair from her face, causing Rhinure to shudder. Just a little bit longer and he would be able to let her go. Just a little bit longer and he would have his people convinced that all was right between the royal couple. From the corner of his eye, he would see the Wood-elves staring at them. Perhaps, a little kiss would be in order. Something to crown this performance. Warm, but hard fingers, lifted Rhinure’s chin, causing a faint cheer to pass through the crowd. Yes, a kiss was definitely in order.

Rhinure looked up and realised with a jolt that threatened the careful numbness she had forced into her heart, that there was no desire in those blue eyes. They remained calculating and slightly unfocused, as if measuring some distant thing. And that was enough to convince her beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was all a game, an elaborate charade to humiliate and bend her to Legolas’ will. Prove once and for all how weak she was and how she could not control herself, even in public. The thought that Legolas would be so cruel, cut her to the quick.

Legolas stilled slightly as he heard a low moan – of pain – from Rhinure, causing him to shift his focus away from the crown and really look at his wife. What he saw were huge black eyes, shining with something with something that looked like … tears? Legolas’s grip on Rhinure tightened, responding to the incredible pain he saw in those eyes. 

“Rhinure …?”  His mouth lowered to offer what comfort he could.

Suddenly a loud voice cut across the ground, shattering the spell Legolas had so carefully woven, “Mistress, a word with you if you are done with the Prince?”

Legolas looked up to see Cothion standing with a group of Avari around him – all unsmiling and looking at him as if he were obscene. There was such disapproval in their cruel faces that Legolas immediately stiffened, glancing swiftly at Rhinure to see if she felt the same. What he saw was even worse.

Rhinure quickly covered up the sheer relief that flooded her at Cothion interruption. She shot him a grateful look before turning to Legolas. “My Lord? Are we done?”

Legolas’ grip intensified fleetingly before falling away from her waist. Keeping her now would serve no purpose and only highlight his instinct to keep Rhinure as far away from Cothion as possible – it would be churlish.

“If you must, my Princess,” said Legolas with just the right degree of gracious reluctance in his voice. He stepped back, almost regretting it when Rhinure hurried over to Cothion’s side. The way he greeted her, shielding her from view, almost as if he was protecting her, caused a jealous rage to boil in Legolas, but somehow he managed to keep his gaze wistful and just a little woebegone. 

He even managed to keep his poise when Cothion shot him a warning glare that made it clear that he was protecting Rhinure from Legolas. His fists clenched as Cothion swept a dark cloak over Rhinure’s shoulders, clearly leading her and the Avari, away from the crowd.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Thank you, Commander.” Rhinure adjusted the cloak around her shoulders, pulling her hood up to hide herself from the older elf’s knowing gaze.

“It is my duty to protect you, Mistress, even from your husband if need be.”

Rhinure nodded though her face was completely hidden in shadow. “I know, but you have my thanks, nonetheless.”

“He should not have done it. What is between a husband and wife should always be private.”

“This was not something that is between a husband and wife,” said Rhinure bitterly. “This was a ploy.”

“Are you telling me his ardour was an act?” Cothion stopped in his tracks, unable to comprehend how something so powerful could be faked, and so easily. He had honestly thought the Prince was being improper.

“All of it,” replied Rhinure flatly.

“How will you know what is real between you two and what is not?”

Rhinure shook his head. “I do not know,” she answered honestly, for the moment her anger at Cothion forgotten in the relief his rescue had brought. For a moment, he was just her Commander once more. The elf to whom she would entrust her Avari, the elf she trusted before anyone else for they both lived for their people.

“Then …?” Cothion was reluctant to even ask the question.

Rhinure slowed as she considered what to do next. “I do not know,” she repeated. “I need time to think – alone.”

“I do not know how long you will have, my Sacrifice.”

“Then I will be sure to make haste,” Rhinure smiled, secure that Cothion could not see her expression. “I will not fail our people.”

“I know you will not. You are Avari.” A declaration and a reaffirmation which comforted both elves.

“You will have to excuse me, Commander. Was there something else?”

Cothion thought about asking her for permission to journey back to Tirnen soon. The last missive from Túrgwaith has been disquieting though he had said nothing specific, but Cothion finally decided against it. Mistress still needed him here; she needed his strength until she replenished her own. Somehow he would find the time to give her that at least.

“Nothing that cannot wait.”

“Then I will think about what needs to be done.”

Cothion watched Rhinure leave with Ehtewen and Istion behind her. He noted how slowly she walked, as if weighed down and exhausted. He would have to speak to the Prince; there was no alternative left.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Talking to Legolas proved more difficult than Cothion anticipated, especially as the Prince was involved in preparations for his trip to Gondor along with his normal duties. Days passed and Cothion’s resolve hardened. Since his confrontation with Arandur, Rhinure had made an especial effort to make sure that the Avari were comfortable and able to access her when they needed. Neither she nor Cothion had realised how much the absence of the Sacrifice had laid a strain on the Avari and especially her Hunters. Having her actively involved in their daily lives brought a much needed sense of normality to the Avari. With both Cothion and Rhinure around it was almost as good as being home. But between her Avari and her duties as Eryn Lasgalen’s Princess, Rhinure was exhausting herself and neither the King nor her precious husband seemed to notice. Something needed to be done and soon.

“Do not get involved,” advised Ehtewen, who could read Cothion better than most.

“I am already involved. I must do something to help. You know I cannot sit idly by and watch my people being hurt.”

“And you know more than most the value of patience. Would you blindingly spring a trap if this were battle?”

“No, of course not, but …”

“Do not argue, Commander. We are in the midst of battle and we cannot have you rashly involved and lose you as well.”

“We have not lost Mistress either,” said Cothion sharply.

“And we will not. I will protect her; that is what I do. You are needed to command our forces. That is what you should concentrate on. Mistress can take care of herself; you know that. There are other, bigger things for you to worry about.”

“I know, but that does not make this situation any easier.”

“If life were easy, it would not be worth living.”

Cothion relented. “I will drop the matter – for now.”

Ehtewen nodded, knowing that this was the best she would get out of Cothion. When he thought he was needed, he would forge ahead and she would not be able to stop him. She could only manoeuvre him so much, and in the interim hope that Rhinure would be able to gather herself together in time, before such intervention became necessary. Cothion unleashed would be deadly – and not necessarily only for the Wood-elves.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure sighed as she put down the last letter from Túrgwaith. The old elf was not telling her something. She could almost taste the deception in the ink. But what was he hiding? On even the best of days, the First Advisor did not tell her everything, firmly believing that the Sacrifice should only be involved when absolutely necessary. If Túrgwaith has his way, she would only be told of the Lost Ones when they came marching through Tirnen. 

Rhinure shook her head, wondering if Sarniel had to deal with such issues as well. Probably not, Rhinure had difficulty imagining anyone denying Sarniel anything. Her mother has been a force nature in front of whom even Túrgwaith had to bow. Rhinure tapped the desk in front of her, gazing out of the window to the Forest ahead but seeing not its beauty but the danger that still lurked in the shadows somewhere. Perhaps she should pay a visit to Tirnen. It was time to check in with her Spy Masters – ones that did not report in to the First Advisor – to see if any clue had turned up on the Lost Ones. Some trace that would confirm if they were behind these attacks. Some shred that would conclude that these mysterious prime movers were indeed the mythical lost clans and not some figment of the Avari’s paranoid imaginations.

But she could not, Rhinure cursed inwardly, frustration clawing at her. She was leaving with Legolas on that infernal trip by the end of next week. Too little time to go to Tirnen – at least, not without arousing Thranduil’s suspicions. Perchance there was some way she could get out of this trip – perhaps Legolas would reconsider if she asked.

But that would mean she would have to speak to him and the thought alone brought her up short. She had minimised the time she spent with him over the last few days, talking to him only when necessary and always in public, preferring to give her attention to her Avari who wanted it. In her preoccupation with Legolas she had let her people flounder and she was not about to make the same mistake again. She would never leave them so rudderless that they floundered.

Rhinure tried hard and found it relatively easy to keep herself occupied during the day but at night it became impossible not to think of him. When she should be resting, she found her thoughts going back to him and their predicament but no matter how long and how hard she thought and planned, she could find no way out of this bind. She was always unfailingly polite and helpful for she had an example to set but the tension was taking a toll on her. Her face had paled even further and was looking almost gaunt. She was always slender but when she looked at herself she could only see bones and no curves which would tempt a man. No wonder that Legolas could not stand to look at her, let alone want her in his bed.

Rhinure sucked in her breath sharply pushing that painful awareness down. She would not think of the intimacy she no longer shared with Legolas. There was no time and no energy left to regret what was pleasant, but ultimately fleeting. And if she kept telling herself that, then perhaps she would not spend half the night tossing in her lonely bed knowing that only a wall separated Legolas from her. She would not wonder if perhaps he too missed holding her, making love to her. And perhaps most of all, she would not wait with bated breath for footsteps which never came.

Rhinure swallowed against the painful lump lodged in her throat. She had to look at the bright side of things; there was always hope.  At least, Legolas has not taken a bed mate into his bed – yet.

Rhinure looked at her pale hands gripping the edge of the table tightly. They were ungentle hands, more used to wielding a blade then caressing, pleasuring.

Enough! Rhinure admonished herself sternly. She would not let herself wallow in self pity – she would not let anyone, not even Legolas, destroy her sense of self-worth. She had fought hard for it, sacrificed much and she knew, intellectually, that she was a worthy person. She had Honour. If emotionally she could not accept that, then she had to learn to ignore what she felt. She was a strong elf – she could and she would. No one would doubt her Honour, not even herself. She would find a solution, somehow. And the first thing she needed to do was find out what was happening in Tirnen and then speak to Legolas about giving her time away from him.

Rhinure took a deep breath, trying to purge emotions from her thoughts. Even when alone she found it difficult to let herself go, even if she missed Legolas so fiercely that she ached with it every time a stray glance fell on him.

“Nothing is ever that bad, child.” Thranduil’s voice cut through the oppressive silence, breaking through Rhinure’s thoughts so abruptly that she could only blink foolishly up at the King. “What is the matter, child?” Thranduil asked gently, concerned at Rhinure’s pallor. 

“I am no child, my Lord,” Rhinure muttered distractedly, wondering how he had managed to sneak up on her without any warning from her guards.

“To me you are.” Thranduil stepped into the room, signalling Ehtewen and Istion to leave. The Avari hesitated for a brave moment before bowing to Thranduil’s glare. 

“They are my guards; you should not order them about so,” Rhinure protested, anger clearing her mind enough that she had the presence of mind to stuff Túrgwaith’s letter back into her writing desk before Thranduil could see it.

“You are right, I should not,” Thranduil agreed amicably, noting Rhinure’s actions but choosing not to say anything. The child was at the end of her tether as it was and he did not want to spook her further.

Rhinure blinked, nonplussed at Thranduil’s easy capitulation.

“Were you looking for an argument, sell nîn?”                           (My daughter)

Rhinure shook her head instinctively under Thranduil’s questioning, slightly challenging glance, reminding him of Legolas as an elfling trying to wriggle out of a tough spot.

“I would never argue … much,” Rhinure was forced to add as Thranduil’s eyebrow went up. “Why are you here, my Lord?” she asked hurriedly, knowing herself to be at a disadvantage and not liking it one bit. What was the King up to?

“You have not been to see me in a while so I thought I would pay you a visit myself,” said Thranduil simply.

“But I have sent you reports about everything relevant.”

“Yes and they have proved most accurate as usual. The Avari make excellent scouts.”

“As we have done for you for an Age.”

“I have never had any complaints about letting the Avari into the Forest. You have responded admirably when I have called.”

“Then … my Lord, why are you here?” Rhinure asked again, getting more confused by the minute.

“Must you only come when I call you?” Thranduil asked gently.

“That is what you and the Sacrifice … what Sarniel agreed to. That the Avari would supplement the Wood-elves as and when you deemed fit. In exchange, we would be left alone. Since the Age began that is how it has been.”

“And since then, has nothing changed? Have we not progressed?” When Rhinure remained silent, Thranduil explained, “I am your father, child. Albeit,” Thranduil raised a hand for Rhinure to be quiet, “it is by marriage alone but I am a father nonetheless.”

“I do not claim you as my father, my Lord,” Rhinure choked out. Why must these elves plague her so?

“But I claim you,” Thranduil responded implacably. “You are a part of my family – my son’s wife – and I will not have you hide from me – from us.”

Rhinure looked up into shrewd green eyes, which silently told her that Thranduil was well aware of what she has been doing over the last week. 

“You have always hidden from us, waited until we have called but you must learn that we will not always come looking. Sometimes you must extend your hand to us too.”

“And if we do not want to?”

“Then you should not have accepted my proposal of marriage, Rhinure. I have given you my son; do not waste that opportunity.”

Rhinure swallowed, but bravely held her ground. “I am not wasting anything.”

“Then you lie to yourself as well as to me.”

“You call yourself my father in one breath and then attack me the in the next. Who is the liar here, my Lord?”

“I do not know what you think fathers are like, but I do not pander to my children’s mistakes.”

Rhinure turned away, unintentionally wounded by that retort. “You are correct. I do not know what fathers are like. I never had one.” 

Thranduil frowned, “But …”

“My sire left Tirnen before I was born and returned but intermittently, long enough to conceive me but hardly long enough to watch me grow or teach me. I had no father,” Rhinure finished flatly.

“But you do now,” said Thranduil firmly, causing Rhinure to gasp in disbelief.

“I do not want this.”

Thranduil smiled, getting up from his seat and walking towards Rhinure. “Yes, you do. I know what it feels like to have no father – you want this.”

“You have no right to tell me what I feel.”

“Yes, I do. I am your father now.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I think you need this.”

“You do not know what you do. This is wrong.” Rhinure shook her head, denying what Thranduil offered. The King was as stubborn as his son.

“Probably not,” Thranduil agreed, offering Rhinure his arm but she shrunk away from him as if he was trying to strike her. This was definitely going to complicate matters between them. Thranduil had originally just planned to speak to Rhinure about Legolas, about the mess they were both creating, but seeing her sitting there so alone, in so much pain had wrung his heart. She was family and by his choice more than anyone else’s. It was his responsibility to make sure she was well and happy. And if her happiness conflicted with his duties as a King, he would worry about it later. Right now his instincts told him that this was the right thing to do and Thranduil had learnt over the years to listen to his feelings. This would help Rhinure – and through her, it would help Legolas. Thranduil would do anything for his son.

“You do this for Legolas. Let us not pretend otherwise, my Lord.” Rhinure stood up and walked towards the window, trying to put some distance between herself and the older elf.

“Partly.” Thranduil carefully put a hand of her shoulder but she stiffened and tried to pull away. His grip tightened and he folded her hand into the crook of his arm and firmly held her hand in his. “But only partly. You are important too.”

“You are doing this to confuse me,” Rhinure accused.

“And how would I do that, child?”

“You are hoping to change my allegiance by binding me to you.”

 *~ Very good, my child. Very quick. ~*

“You are already bound to me through my son, or have you forgotten that?”

Rhinure stopped pulling, realising that Thranduil would not let go and her strength was not great enough to force him.

“Have you forgotten?”

“No.”

“Then why would I need to bind you further?”

Rhinure raised deliberately disbelieving eyes to Thranduil, both sharing a moment of complete harmony and understanding. Both rulers knew that Thranduil could and would improve his odds in this duel, even if it meant adopting the Avari Sacrifice. The obligations of a child to a parent were great.

*~ And those of a parent to a child? ~* Rhinure mused, briefly allowing herself to calmly think of Thranduil’s offer. If marrying Legolas created a tie, then would not claiming Thranduil as father do the same? Would not a direct tie to the King be better than one through the Prince?

Thranduil watched as Rhinure’s eyes looked at him speculatively. Gone was that wounded look and back was the assessing coldness of the Sacrifice. She was thinking of what he had offered – but he could not help regretting that it was not the ellethwho did so but the ruler. Still, ties worked both ways and their power depended on who was bound by them. Would Rhinure realise this before committing herself to the King of Eryn Lasgalen? Would she be as rash as she was when she married Legolas?

Thranduil hoped so – as King and as the father he offered to be for Rhinure. He wanted this stubborn, but unique girl in his family. He wanted the opportunity to make his son happy and Thranduil knew, now, that no matter what happened Legolas’ happiness depended on this little slip of a girl.

“Decide quickly, my Lady. The offer might be withdrawn if you do not hurry,” prodded the King. Rhinure jerked back as if struck and Thranduil knew he had said the wrong thing.

“You would offer to be my father and then withdraw it so casually?” whispered Rhinure.

“No … I did not mean that,” said Thranduil, appalled at the bleakness he saw in Rhinure’s eyes. They reminded him of his own as he held the lifeless body of Oropher in his arms.

“You have already taken one father from me – now you want to do the same again, is that it?” wondered Rhinure. 

“Explain.”

“Barion was my father.”

Thranduil frowned, “He was …”

“Arandur’s predecessor in the Realm.”

Comprehension dawned on Thranduil. “He was the Avari your Sacrifice sent when we first agreed upon the pact.”

“He was the husband my mother sacrificed to the Clan.”

“I did not know.”

Rhinure continued as if Thranduil had not spoken. “He was the elf who died saving your wife.”

“And for that I remain eternally grateful to him.”

“Grateful enough to be a replacement to his daughter?”

“I did not know you were Barion’s daughter,” Thranduil repeated carefully, making sure Rhinure was listening. 

Rhinure glanced at the King cynically. “Is it not ironic that you offer to me now, what you took away so many years ago?”

“I did not ask your Sacrifice to send her own husband.”

“You asked that an Avari be sent to serve you.”

“So that I might learn about your people.”

“So that you might have surety about us,” Rhinure responded.

Thranduil sighed, “You will believe what you will, but it was never my intention to keep your father away from you.”

“What did you expect when you had him serve you for Life? If not my father then it would have been someone else’s. You kept an Avari from his people.”

“He swore the Oath of his own free accord. I did not ask him to.”

“As you did not ask Arandur?” Rhinure asked softly.

Thranduil paused, not sure how to answer that question without lying. “I would have let him go if he had not sworn the oath.”

“Would you have let him stay?” When Thranduil did not answer, Rhinure continued, “Barion chose to go because he could not ask any Avari to do what he would not do himself and neither would Sarniel. So she did what she could – she asked her Bonded to leave her and the children they would have to keep someone else’s parents safe.”

“And you blame me for this.”

“I hold you responsible. You were – are – the King.”

“And what of your mother’s responsibility?”

“That is why I have no mother. What kind of mother puts the welfare of her child last?”

“Someone who puts the needs of the many first,” countered Thranduil.

“Then she should not have had me.”

“Ah child, what has been done to you that you begrudge life so?”

“What has been done has been done by you and now you offer to do it all over again.”

Thranduil tilted her chin up so that she was forced to look at him. “I will not leave you, child.”

“You cannot promise that. Like Sarniel, you cannot put me first.” Rhinure shook her head, freeing herself from Thranduil’s grip. “You cannot put Legolas first so how can you truthfully promise me anything else?” She squared her shoulders proudly, “And I will not accept anything less – I will not be second best.”

Thranduil smiled at Rhinure with something approaching paternal pride, knowing her to be more his daughter than she realised. “Well said, my Lady. In the interim, may I suggest we find a less contentious relationship then.”

Rhinure turned around. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let us see if we can work it out; what I said earlier is still true. We will not let you hide from Us any longer.” Thranduil straightened and became the King. “If we cannot be family then we will be allies still.” In the true sense of the word, he added silently.

“We already are.”

“There is always room for improvement,” Thranduil said dryly offering Rhinure his arm once more, which she took this time. “If you would accompany me, I have things I wish to discuss with you.”

“As the King commands.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 8 – All is best, though we oft doubt …

“You really have to stop this.”

Legolas looked up from the plate of food in front of him. “I do not know what you mean.”

“This is the third day in a row that Rhinure has excused herself from lunch with us. I have the feeling she would avoid dinners too if they were not public.”

“Then possibly you should speak to Rhinure since it is she who is avoiding us.”

Thranduil sighed, putting down his fork. He had hoped for a relaxed family meal with his son and daughter-in-law but it seemed as if private hopes arose only to be dashed. Though his relationship with Rhinure had improved tremendously over the last few days, Legolas and Rhinure’s had worsened. Thranduil was no longer certain if either was even making an effort to see their problems, let alone resolve them. “You honestly expect me to believe that your recent behaviour is not avoidance?”

“I am not asking you to believe anything except what I am telling you,” Legolas said again.

“And what are you telling me exactly?”

“That Rhinure is avoiding me.”

“And you of course, are trying your hardest to ensure that you relationship does not deteriorate into a series of polite, facile conversations about the weather and the state of the food crop.”

Legolas laughed bitterly, so much so that Thranduil felt his heart skip a beat. “I doubt that the few words we have exchanged recently can be called conversation by any except the greatest of fools.”

“And what are you doing about that?”

“Nothing,” said Legolas flatly.

“Legolas …”

“Adar, I do not wish to discuss this.”

“I clearly remember asking you to remedy this situation.”

“And I did, my Lord. I did exactly what you commanded. I made sure that the Prince and Princess appear to share complete harmony and accord. Surely you cannot fault either of us on that?”

“No, I cannot.”

“Then I have obeyed, as I always do.”

“But, about you marriage …”

“My marriage, last I checked, still remains my concern, your Majesty. Unless you would like to issue an edict on that as well?”

“Enough. You presume too much when you take that tone with me. Do not consider my love for you as a blanket for insolence.”

Blue eyes clashed furiously with green, as Legolas mastered his urge to strike out at something, anything, to hurt someone as much as he hurt. He could do it; he could hurt Thranduil immensely with a few words – clean and brutal. But, as usual his love for his father won out over his pettiness.

“I am sorry, Ada.” Legolas looked away, not wanting Thranduil to see his shame or his hurt.

“Legolas, this situation cannot continue like this. One or both of you is going to collapse.”

“Ada, I will not run after her again. If she does not care, then neither will I. I am tired of this chase and, besides, I have better things to occupy my time.”

“Unfortunately, child, I neither believe you nor think that you believe yourself.”

“Fortunately, it does not matter either way. It is not as if Rhinure and I have much time to spare for the other. You spend more time with her than I,” Legolas added in a slightly accusing tone.

Thranduil remained silent, knowing that what Legolas said was true. After their little altercation, Rhinure had made an effort to improve her relationship with the King, knowing its necessity in ensuring the smooth working of the Alliance. It would have been ideal if the Crown Prince would have been there as well, but Thranduil did not think that either could handle such prolonged time together. When Legolas and Rhinure met there was this bruised expression in their eyes, as if a wound has become infected and neither wanted to take the step to cauterise it. They managed very successfully in fooling others around them but Thranduil could see the pain that floating around them.

He knew his son – and Legolas wanted nothing more than to hold Rhinure and cry his hurt out, but knew that she would never accept that. And he was getting to know Rhinure as well and could see that every time Legolas backed off, Rhinure’s fragile heart took another beating, causing her to retreat even further behind the permafrost surrounding her emotions, ensuring that she would never make the first step towards reconciliation.

What was left was a mess of pain and misunderstanding that almost caused Thranduil to despair.

“And what of your right?” Thranduil asked finally.

Legolas flushed and then paled again, giving Thranduil all the answer he needed.

“Perhaps we should speak of something else, Adar?” Legolas pleaded tiredly.

“Legolas, nothing is ever solved by avoiding the issue.”

“I do not know. It has worked for me well enough before.” Legolas pushed his plate aside, having hardly touched his food. “At least this way I way I am allowed my ignorant bliss for a time, brief though it may be, instead of being in pain and disillusionment forever.”

Thranduil frowned, not understanding what Legolas was referring to. Legolas, who was watching the King very carefully, started to speak before Thranduil could ask. “Were you ever going to tell me about the Avari?”

Thranduil blinked at the change in topic, not sure what Legolas was asking. “I told you about the Avari.”

“You told me I had to marry Rhinure – a maid who brought an alliance with her. The fact that she was Avari was incidental. Even if she had not been Moriquendi you would have commanded the marriage. Yes?”

“Perhaps. But you make it sound much worse than it was.”

“Somehow I remember it as being exactly so.”

“I knew Rhinure. I thought, and still do, that you would be good together.”

Legolas swallowed, keeping his voice steady with considerable effort. “Then I can only commend your choice, my King. How long have you known that we were … compatible? Or did that thought occur after the alliance was formed?”

“I would not do that to you. If I honestly believed that she would make you unhappy I would have found another way.”

Legolas sighed, getting up from the table. “Adar, I am not happy.”

“I am sorry.”

“Would you have changed your mind if you knew she and I would end up like this?” Legolas did not look at Thranduil, afraid of the answer – afraid that he would say no and even more afraid that he would say yes.

“You and Rhinure have not ‘ended’. You are just starting.”

Legolas kept his gaze on the trees outside. “That is not an answer.”

“I did what was best.”

“For whom?” Legolas asked softly.

Thranduil sucked in a harsh breath, not knowing where such audacious words came from. Legolas had never questioned him so. They had fought but always, in the end, Thranduil’s word and judgement held sway. “For everyone – for you – and her.”

Legolas glanced at Thranduil, disbelief so clearly etched in his face that Thranduil stiffened. “You do not believe me.”

“Forgive me, Adar, but I have doubts given your history.”

Thranduil almost exploded, rage building and mixing with the pain of this conversation, but somehow he managed to keep his temper reigned. “I have never given you cause to doubt my judgement.”

“You have never given me cause to doubt your commitment to our people, my Lord,” corrected Legolas, sounding almost shattered.

“But …”

“You have hidden things from me, important things – such as the existence of the Avari, our agreement with them, which I still do not know how it exactly works, the need for an alliance – the very woman you wanted me to take for a wife. So perhaps you will forgive me for my disbelief?”

“I did what needed to be done. The Avari are secretive and I respected that need as I would any ally’s request.”

“You did what was best for our people,” Legolas agreed.

“So you understand,” said Thranduil in relief. “The Avari only agreed to spy and fight for us if we left them completely alone and keep their existence a secret. And the best way to keep a secret is to tell no one, you must agree.”

“I do – but why did agree to such terms? Would it not have been easier to let them settle here?” When Thranduil did not answer, Legolas turned to look at the older elf. “You did not want them in the Kingdom.” It was not a question.

“I was young – just made King,” Thranduil defended. “And …”

“They were Moriquendi – dark elves just appeared out of darkness and legend.”

Thranduil nodded, “I kept them away until they proved themselves.”

“And then?”

“I asked for a representative from them.”

“Did you not ever offer to let them come and live with us?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They did not wish to.”

“So you did not try,” said Legolas sadly. No wonder the Avari did not trust them. If after almost an Age they were still kept at arms length then no wonder they viewed the marriage offer with suspicion. Though … if what Arandur said was true, they also acknowledged a great debt to Thranduil. A debt for which they were willing to sacrifice Rhinure to, a debt repaid in blood.

“So now do you believe me?”

“About what?” asked Legolas, confused.

“That I did what was best.”

“For the Silvan elves – yes – always. You are the King – a great King. But,” Legolas bent his head forward so his hair would shield his face from Thranduil. “You lied to me for their sake, you will keep me in the dark for them if need be – I know this, I have known this all my life. In some ways I have always taken great pride in your dedication, that I had a father who thought of more than just his family. For me it was always normal that the King would always take precedence of Ada, that the Prince would always take priority over my personal desired. But only now am I truly understanding what it means. If the need arose, you would sacrifice me, as that Avari have done Rhinure, which leads me to wonder if it is not better that I settle for polite conversation than for something deeper?”

“Legolas.” Thranduil turned Legolas to face him, clutching at his shoulders when Legolas tried to move. “I know you hurt, but believe me when I say that this marriage can work if you try. You can build what you yearn for; it will be difficult but not impossible. I know this unequivocally – I believe this beyond any shade of doubt.”

“I want to believe you, Ada, I do. But I do not know how.”

“Ion nín. Everything will be alright.” Thranduil hugged Legolas fiercely, willing this pain to leave his son and come into him. For a moment, Legolas relaxed and returned the embrace. For a moment, he was safe and nothing could harm him.

A cough interrupted them. A worried Herenion looked at the pair. “It is getting late, my King. The council awaits in your audience chamber.”

Legolas pushed Thranduil slightly. “Go – you are needed.”

“I will be back, ion nin. I will make you believe me.”

Legolas smiled bravely. “You always win, my Lord. I will pray it will be so again. Until later, your Majesty.” Legolas bowed to the King and with Thranduil’s permission, withdrew to his chambers to prepare for his own duties. Patrols would be leaving soon and he needed to look over his plans. There was much to do.

Thranduil watched Legolas leave, noting the weary but determined tread, thinking of how old his baby head become.

“What was that about?”

Thranduil sighed but did not answer Herenion’s impatient question, instead walking towards the side table where he had placed his circlet during lunch. Such a heavy burden, this circle of leaves, he mused, holding the Wood-elf crown in his hands.

“What did you do to Legolas?” Herenion demanded.

Thranduil stiffened, but kept his temper, frayed through it was after the conversation with Legolas. “It is not your concern, Herenion. Leave it be – it is between my son and I.”

“If it impacts Legolas, it is my concern. I will protect him.”

Thranduil glanced at the old elf as he straightened his tunic and slipped on the robes of State. “Even from me?”

Herenion considered for the slimmest of moment before plunging on. “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“It was about the Princess.”

“Perhaps.”

“Legolas was upset about the time you spend with her.”

“Partly.”

“He realised that this new ploy to entrap her will just cause more problems between them and eventually between the Avari and us.”

Thranduil looked up at Herenion’s words registered. “What are you talking about?”

“My Lord, I know that the Wood-elves are paramount to you but what you do with Princess is wrong.”

Only centuries of service allowed Herenion to speak with such impertinence without Thranduil losing his famous temper. But perhaps Herenion was being wilfully provocative. Thranduil took a deep breath and calmed himself – somewhat – before asking a little wryly. “And what if what I do is necessary?”

Herenion squared his shoulders and said bravely. “Then you would be wrong and Legolas should be informed as such.”

Thranduil turned to face the older elf, folding his hands to prevent them from fisting. “You question my judgement?”

“I question anything that causes such pain and which can only increase the suspicion and mistrust surrounding us.”

“Sometimes pain is necessarily to cauterise a wound, Herenion.”

“Lying never helps, child and you know this,” said Herenion gravely, dropping the smile from his face and the enthusiasm from his demeanour. Suddenly he seemed old – and tired.

“I have not been a child for a while, Herenion and you would do well to remember that.”

“You will always be a child to me, Thranduil.”

“Perhaps in age but not in experience. I have had to do things you would not and could never do. I have had to face Fate and Circumstance and fight its evil with Will alone. That is why I am King – for I will do what others will ignore to keep their consciences clean.” Thranduil’s voice thundered and even Herenion had to fall silent. “My judgement rules, Herenion” Thranduil’s gaze locked with Herenion, and finally, the brown eyes fell away in embarrassment and shame.

“As my Lord commands.”

Thranduil placed the crown on his head. “And Herenion, remember this, you may disagree with me, but you will obey. If you say one word to Legolas – one word about your suspicions or questioning of motives, one whisper that threatens his marriage, even indirectly, I will place you so far from him that even Manwë will not be able to reunite you.”

“You will have me forsworn?” asked Herenion fearfully, knowing that this was no idle threat. He had not seen Thranduil this angry in a while. He had played his hand badly, he now realised. He should have coaxed Thranduil instead of trying to force his hand. Thranduil was not a child, that much was true, and he could not be ordered any longer. But Herenion had been worried, about his family, about the oath he had sworn to Oropher to protect them, but most of all about the trouble he knew was coming but could not prevent. He could feel it in his bones, like water beginning to boil, but he could not do anything about it. Wherever he turned, everyone seemed to be stoking the fire instead of dousing it.

“I will not have a disloyal elf near my son.”

“I have never been disloyal to you!” said Herenion, stung that Thranduil would even suggest something like that.

“If you overrule my judgement, about my son, about my Prince and his Princess and above all about how best to serve and protect my people, then you are not only being disloyal, you are being treasonous.”

“My Lord … I …”

“Enough, Herenion. I have wasted enough time on this. I have heard your concerns before and I have allowed you to have your say, but that does not mean that you may do anything with impunity.”

“My Lord, I will obey …”

“But …”

“You do wrong. I have not your subtlety or even your courage but I can feel that this is wrong. You must stop.”

“I cannot, Herenion.” Thranduil walked to the door and added quietly, “Protect my son.”

“Always.”

And the King exited.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“You are quiet tonight, my Lord.”

Thranduil looked up from the map in the front of him. “It has been a long day, child.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, my Lord.”

Thranduil smiled and leaned back in his chair, looking over Rhinure seated across from him. It surprised him how easily he could read the concern on her face. She covered it well enough, but he was learning the small signs, the gestures, the tilt of her head which gave away her heart. It was like learning a whole new language, where they used one word, the Avari a wholly different one. The intent was the same, just with a different packaging. But he was learning.

“My Lord?” Rhinure wondered why Thranduil looked so pensive. It was always he who carried their conversations, throwing in personal anecdotes or homilies which, she now realised, she missed in this sombre atmosphere. She looked forward to those little asides, especially when they concerned Legolas. But even when they were about some insight or judgement that Thranduil had made, Rhinure listened avidly, learning, by his knees as it were. It was almost like being a child again. There was such charm in not being a leader too. It was, just almost, like having Morion back again - Morion back before he married that woman – back all to herself.

“It is nothing. As I said, it has been a long day.”

“Would you like to retire?”

Thranduil looked at the piles of paper in front of him, the patrolling schedules that needed to be chalked between Rhinure and himself. He knew that Rhinure wanted to discuss a supply sharing agreement, but that would require a lot of rearranging of stores and spares. And there was not much time before she and Legolas left for Gondor. “No there is much to be done.”

“Yes, there is.” Rhinure paused before asking casually, “Is the Prince going to join us?”

Thranduil suppressed a smile, though a bittersweet one. “I think not.”

Rhinure’s mouth pursued and back straightened, which Thranduil knew, was her way of protecting against regret. The back just straightened a little and not completely, which would have been a sign of anger. “Things would get done faster if he leant a hand.”

“Perhaps,” said Thranduil noncommittally. Privately, he though nothing would get done if Legolas was with them. Both the young, silly elves were so distracted in each other’s company, yearning to be together but insisting on keeping their distance, that nothing ever got done.

Rhinure glanced at the door before turning to the map. Her way of hoping that Legolas would just turn up so that she could either just see him or scream at him – Thranduil could not be sure. Either way she wanted him to be near.

“Shall we get back to work?” Thranduil looked at the dark head bent over the table and wondered when Legolas would get the opportunity to learn these things about his wife.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas stepped on to the balcony, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air carrying a hint of dew and sapling. The morning patrols had been particularly difficult, given his fatigue and distraction. He had been fortunate that the patrols had been uneventful, for he had not been at his best. But the new recruits had performed admirably well, giving their all to their Prince. He was pleased at their diligence. They would make a fine addition to the Home Guard and Legolas would rest a little easier while he was away in Gondor.

Gondor …

Legolas smiled at the thought of his friends. He would be amongst them soon. Some of the tension left his shoulders and the tight band around his temple eased a little. Despite the recent trouble and stress in his life he was looking forward to the trip. At least his mortal friends did not expect the impossible from him. They welcomed the elf, the person, without caring about what the Prince could do for them.

Legolas sighed, kneading his shoulders, all the while wondering if the Prince could be separated from the elf and still leave the core that was Legolas intact. Perhaps the mortal loved just a part of him without seeing the whole?

Though, where would that leave Arwen? Legolas smiled once more. He had never been close to the children of Elrond, space and time prevented that, but he could not say that they did not know him or that he was just a Prince with grave duties. If so, then was not Arwen’s pleasure just that – unalloyed joy in the presence of friend? Arwen would of course tell him that he was thinking too much. Whatever the reason, Legolas was welcomed and he should learn to accept it with as much graciousness as it was offered, instead of finding fault.

The elleth – though she was not one any longer, Legolas supposed wickedly – had always acted older than she was, presuming to lecture him whenever the infrequent opportunity arose. Legolas could not wait to see what she would do to Rhinure.

Legolas smiled, he could not wait to see how Rhinure would be welcomed – for welcomed she would be, he was sure of it. Faramir and Gimli’s visit has been too brief to make a definitive judgement so Legolas was looking forward to seeing her interact with the Second Born. And she had to meet the Hobbits! Their innocence and resilience would soothe her has it did him. Though no children, their enthusiasm for life was almost childlike to the Elves with their immortal lives. They would bring a much needed smile to Rhinure’s face.

Legolas wondered down to the gardens, allowing his mind to think of Rhinure, not denying himself any longer. It was painful not to have her near but not to think of her was unbearable. He missed her and the journey to Gondor would be the perfect opportunity for them to spend sometime together, but Legolas was not sure if the trip would be anything more than prolonged misery. He often wondered what he could do to repair the rift between them. But, to be brutally honest with himself, he was not even sure if there was anything worth repairing.

Legolas sighed, rotating his stiff shoulders slightly. He had just managed to work a little of the kinks out when an annoyed voice broke the blissful silence, causing Legolas’ shoulders to stiffen right back.

“I have been looking for you, Prince.”

“It seems as if you have found me, Commander.” Legolas turned to face Cothion, anger glaring at the mere sight of the other elf.

Cothion, too, stiffened at the patent unwelcome in the Sindar elf’s face. Though he had never though much of the Prince, considering him a dangerous but necessary expedient, the hostility was tantamount to a slap on the face to the reserved Avari. “I have been looking for you,” he tried again, with what he thought, was a great deal of equanimity. The Prince needed to understand certain things, needed to see that he could not keep hurting the Sacrifice with impunity. Though without parents or family, she was no orphan to be taken advantage of. She had an entire Clan behind her and Legolas needed to understand that. Whenever he insulted her, he insulted them all, and Cothion would never allow that.

“You already said as much,” Legolas responded calmly, folding his arms behind his back, nails digging into his palm. The pain helped keep his composure and not use his hands for beneficial uses – like wringing necks.

Cothion flushed at the lapse, hands fisting on the pommel of his sword. The cool metal of his Blade pushed down the rage beginning to boil – and he had barely spoken to the Prince. “I wish to speak to you.”

“About what?”

“About Mistress Rhinure.”

The sound of her name, buffeted though it was by the honorific, hurt Legolas. That Cothion spoke it, the cause of all his problems, enraged him. “I cannot imagine that you and I could have anything to speak about concerning her.”

“Then you have a most limited imagination.”

“Speak then, Commander,” Legolas allowed regally. “I have little time, as you will be well aware of, but for my wife I can spare you a few moments.”

Cothion flushed at the condescension, not being particularly used to such behaviour. No Avari would speak such, especially to his betters. Nonetheless, he would persevere.

“I am waiting, Commander.” Legolas delighted in needling the Commander, paying him back for the trouble he had caused in a small, but satisfying way.

“I know what you are doing to Mistress.”

Legolas turned to face Cothion squarely. “And what am I doing?”

“You are trying to confuse her and make her forget her duty to the Clan.” Cothion went straight for the jugular.

“Brave words, Commander. Do you have any proof of such accusations or are you just indulging in slander?” countered Legolas smoothly, all Woodland Prince.

“I have eyes, your Highness, I have seen the way you treat her. How you try and monopolise her, try to keep her away from her people. And when you do not succeed, how you insult and hurt her.”

“Even if you had the right to speak to me in such a manner, what makes you think I will discuss my marriage with you?” Legolas struggled to keep calm, and not allow any doubts about the veracity of Cothion’s words to shade his voice. “What Rhinure and I share, how I treat her, is not your concern,.”

“She is our Sacrifice – how you treat her is our concern – it is my concern.”

Legolas bridled at the possessiveness in Cothion’s voice. “She is my wife.”

“That does not stop her from being our leader. You would do well to remember that.”

“Is that a threat, Commander?”

“That is a reminder. Nothing more … and nothing less.”

Legolas’ eyes burned and he stepped forward to match Cothion’s threats with an unspoken one of his own. How dare this upstart of an elf presume to lecture him about his behaviour towards Rhinure? What of her behaviour towards him? “You are hardly in a position to talk, Commander, when it is you who monopolise my wife’s time. I hardly spend any time with her and when I do manage you are always around, like a burr stuck to wool. Perhaps I should accuse you of keeping a wife away from her husband.” Cothion’s face hardened in warning, but Legolas was beyond such subtlety. “Does that not violate more of your precious oaths than what I am supposedly trying to do?”

“Are you accusing me of having no Honour, Prince?” Cothion demanded heatedly, feeling control slip away from him but having no will to stop himself.

“I am not accusing you of anything, Avari. I have eyes too, and I am just calling what I see. And what I see is my wife spending time playing Sacrifice and ignoring her Bonded.”

“Not only do you attack my Honour, you presume to attack Rhinure too. You shame the title of Bonded.”

“Those are fighting words, Commander.” Legolas shifted into fighting stance.

“Are you challenging me, Prince?”

“I believe you insulted me first, Commander. I am just redressing that insult.”

“I will not fight you.”

“Why not, Commander? You are brave enough bandying words but not when it comes to backing them with action?”

Cothion hesitated, struggling to control himself. This was not what he wanted. He just wanted Legolas to treat Mistress with the respect that was her due. He wanted him to know that she would be protected if he continued to threaten her. That Legolas would have to face him before he could harm Rhinure – and through her – the entire Clan. What better time to teach the little Prince a lesson than now? What better time than to show the strength the Avari carried?

“Afraid, Avari?”

“Vigilant only, Prince.”

“You should be, Avari. For I promise you, if you think I am monopolising Rhinure now, you will not like what I will do henceforth,” Legolas taunted. “I will make sure that she has not time for your precious Avari. I will use every wile, every power I have to turn her away from you and lose herself in me.”

Those words snapped Cothion’s fragile control. A red haze settled before his eyes and his emotions roiled, submerging his rational, cool Avari self. First Arandur and now his Sacrifice – these Wood-elves would not rest until they had taken everything precious away from him, until they had ripped away all his defences, leaving him bleeding and vulnerable. He had been unable to save his brother – he would not fail his Mistress – he would protect her. He would protect the Clan.

With a tormented roar, Cothion pulled out his sword and attacked.

Legolas parried adroitly, metal meeting metal in a discordant sound. He grinned savagely as Cothion charged again. He would teach this Moriquendi. He would teach him not to interfere. He would make sure that he would never be able to cause trouble for him again – and then he would have Rhinure all to himself.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

A parting Faelon burst into the King’s Chambers with scant ceremony causing both Thranduil and Rhinure to look up abruptly from the papers in front of them.

“What is the meaning of this interruption, Lieutenant?”

“My Liege,” Faelon paused to draw breath. “The Prince …”

Thranduil rose immediately in paternal response to Fealon’s tone. “What about the Prince?”

“My Lord, the Prince … and the Avari Commander …” Faelon fell silent as a strangled sound from the chair Rhinure sat in cut him off.

Thranduil glanced in silent command to the Princess. This was not the time to jump to conclusions, no matter how worrisome they seemed from Faelon’s obviously agitated manner. “Speak slowly, Lieutenant. Has something befallen the Prince and the Commander?”

Faelon took a deep breath, for courage, before blurting out, “Prince Legolas and the Commander are duelling.”

“What?”

“They are, at this very moment, fighting with each other. And …” Faelon trailed off as Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. Suddenly, telling the King no longer seemed like a good idea no matter what Herenion said.

“And?” Thranduil asked very carefully.

“And Herenion is afraid that they will hurt each other,” said Faelon in a rush, desperate to quit the chambers now.

“I thought you said it was a duel?”

“Yes, well, you could call it that.”

“What did Herenion call it?”

“A settling of scores.” Faelon bit his tongue as Thranduil drew back as it struck. He knew it would have been wiser to let the Prince beat the stuffings out of the Avari, but Herenion had insisted that he get the King. As if the fire needed more fuel …

“Take me to the Prince.”

“As my King commands.”

Thranduil strode to the door, only to pause when he realised Rhinure had not moved from her chair. “Rhinure?”

She looked up at Thranduil blankly, face done deathly pale.

“We need to leave.”

Rhinure continued to look up blankly, mind churning but not registering what Thranduil was saying. As soon as Faelon has said the Commander’s and Legolas’ names together, her vague fears had crystallised in an awful certainty, leaving her shaken. Cothion and Legolas were fighting – and she was very afraid it was her fault.

“Rhinure.”

Thranduil’s sharp tone cut through her panic.

“Come.”

And the Avari Sacrifice obeyed.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

It was no duel.

It was two frenzied elves determined to hurt the other with little regard for themselves. The sizeable crowd gasped in panic as Cothion’s blade came close to skewering Legolas, turned aside at the barest of ends with no little skill and a lot of luck.

Herenion gripped his blade, ready to intervene and end this affront to the Prince.

Legolas noted the movement. “Hold, Herenion.”

Herenion made to protest – again – before the imperious command came again to hold. “You would not interrupt our friendly sparring, now would you?”

Herenion cursed under his breath and subsided. He could not intervene now without making Legolas’ words a lie and the little brat knew that. An intervention by the Prince’s Bodyguard would be tantamount to admitting that Cothion – the Avari Heir – had attacked the Wood-elf Prince, especially as the First and Second Guards of the Avari stood by so impassively, as if Legolas slicing through Cothion’s sleeve was of no consequence.

Herenion slid over to Ehtewen. “We should stop this.”

Ehtewen looked at Herenion, asking calmly, “Why?” Herenion almost exploded before she added quickly. “It is only sport, First Guard. Is it not?”

The question was enunciated so frigidly that Herenion was aware of the number of elves listening to the two bodyguards. “Yes it is,” he bit out. “But accidents have been known to happen,” he added pointedly.

Ehtewen turned to look at the ensuing fight. Both Cothion and Legolas had given up skill and were using brute force to subdue the other. Blades clashed and both elves pushed against the other, determined not to yield any ground. The anger on Cothion’s face was frightening – all the more so since she had seen it so little.

“Accidents happen only with the unskilled.” Ehtewen turned to Herenion. “I have the utmost confidence in the Commander’s skill. If you do not in the Prince’s, then mayhap you should intervene.”

Herenion swore silently again, vowing that when this was over he would soundly thump Legolas for getting himself into this situation. And once this mess was sorted, he would personally escort Cothion out of the Forest and deposit him so far from his Prince that not even the Valar would be able to find him.

Cothion lunged for Legolas, causing the younger elf to scramble back. His fair face was flushed and Herenion could see blood seeping down his jaw from a gash on his temple.

Legolas laughed, in apparent reassurance, which set Herenion’s teeth on edge. “Merely a scratch,” Legolas assured the crowd. “The Commander got in a lucky shot.”

The Commander remained deathly silent, conserving his energy to teach this upstart elf a lesson. His arm bled where the Prince had cut him but he ignored the sting. The Avari around did not comment or inquire if he was alright. They had all seen Cothion more seriously injured and knew better than to distract him with conversation at this stage of a fight. He shifted his stance again to attack and press his advantage again.

Herenion’s eyes flashed as Cothion attacked. Forget escort, once this was over, he would personally break every little bone in the Avari’s body. His stance shifted in response and the elves around him put a little more distance between themselves and the Prince’s Bodyguard.

Where was Thranduil? Herenion wondered angrily. Only the King had the authority to stop this fiasco. However, if he did not hurry, authority be damned, he was going to intervene – Prince’s command and the alliance not withstanding.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Thranduil strode into the gardens with a silent Rhinure on his arm, hurrying as fast as he could without running. He stopped as soon as he saw Legolas’ fair head in the crowd. His robes swirled around his still figure as he looked at the scene in front of him.

Legolas and Cothion were a mess even under the most polite use of the term. They were both sweating and bleeding from numerous cuts, but neither looked sane enough to realise what a spectacle they were making. For the moment, however, both looked like they would survive this encounter.

But Thranduil would not bet about Cothion’s survival much longer if the Avari did not back off immediately. Thranduil locked gaze with Herenion and read the silent vow in those deadly eyes. It was not often that the old elf let his anger get the better of him, but a threat to Legolas would bring him close to that point.

Herenion bowed formally to the King from the clearing, sheathing the sword he did not remember drawing, in response to the King’s silent command. The king was here – he would take care of this.

His gesture made the elves finally realise that the King was amongst them. Tearing their gazes from the fighting elves they looked at their King and took a sharp collective breath when they saw the fury in Thranduil’s eyes. This was no father hurrying to his son’s defence – unneeded though it was considering Cothion’s state – this was a King in judgement. Thranduil almost shone with the power he contained under his beautiful form.

Though the crowd was desperately interested in the fight and did not want to miss even a second, the King’s presence could not be ignored. The crowd sank in formal court bows, awaiting the King’s pleasure. And the two elves continued to fight, completely oblivious to their surroundings.

Thranduil kept the crowd in their positions for longer than was strictly necessary, showing his displeasure at them for their voyeurism. The only elves who did not bow were the proud, inflexible Avari. Thranduil turned his powerful presence of them and for a commendable moment, they collectively resisted acknowledging the King but, in the end, he won, as he always did. They shifted a little closer to the First Guard who stiffly curtseyed to the King, noting with displeasure that the Sacrifice remained by his side and made no move to join the Avari.

Though, truth be told, Rhinure seemed as oblivious to the silent contest around her as the Prince and Commander were. Her eyes remained fixed on the two elves, following their movements with desperate intensity. They were both tiring and tired elves made mistakes and mistakes could be deadly.

Legolas swept Cothion’s feet from under him, causing the larger Avari to hit the ground with a sickening thump. Rhinure hissed in displeasure, worried that Cothion had broken something given the angle he had fallen. But it seemed as if he was fine.

Rhinure started breathing again as he quickly got up and circled the Prince. He was alright. He was unharmed. She was going to kill him.

And it seemed as if the Avari Commander harboured the same sentiment against the Sindar Prince, attacking the blond elf as if his life depended on it, forcing Legolas to fall back against the assault. A couple of elves scrambled back as the two duellists broke out of their prescribed circle, trampling over bushes and flowers alike.

“You have to stop them!”

Thranduil looked down at Rhinure’s ashen face. She had not moved one inch since they had spotted Legolas and looked as if she had been the one to take a beating which, Thranduil supposed, she had in a way. “Should I?”

“He is your son.”

“And he is your Heir.”

“I cannot ask Cothion to step down. It is dishonourable to ask him to back down from a duel,” Rhinure swallowed. “Once a challenge is made and accepted I cannot intervene. There is no Honour in that.”

Thranduil shook his head at the warped logic but decided to wait just a little longer to see where she leading. “And my intervention will not dishonour Legolas in like fashion?”

Rhinure turned anguished eyes only to look away quickly at the condemnation in them.

“I will take that as a yes.” Thranduil smiled a little cruelly. “You would have me dishonour my Heir because you wish to preserve your Heir’s dignity?”

“No!” Rhinure denied vehemently, briefly distracted by the accusation. “I would not do that.”

“To whom?”

“Are you going to stop them?”

“You could do it.”

“I told you …”

“You could stop Legolas. After all you are his wife and believe me when I say this, he would stop if his wife requested it of him.”

Rhinure bit her lip, considering what Thranduil said. She could ask Legolas to quit, shaming him in front of her Avari. No Bonded had ever interfered in such matter of Honour to her knowledge, but she could do it. Even Thranduil believed so.

Rhinure shook her head, trying to clear it. “I cannot.”

“Why not?” Thranduil urged, looking for something from her. He wanted this fight to stop but he needed something from her first.

*~ Just a little while longer, son. Hang on. Then I will make him pay. ~*

“I cannot do that to him.”

“You have to choose one of them.”

Rhinure shook her head in denial and took a quick step back from Thranduil. “No. I cannot.”

“You can.”

“No.”

At that instant, Cothion managed to get under the Prince’s defence, slashing his forearm. Legolas staggered back, clutching his arm.

“No.” Rhinure surged forward in panic, only to be stopped by Thranduil.

“Have you chosen?” Thranduil clamped down on her arm, preventing her from acting precipitously.

Rhinure turned panicked eyes to Thranduil. “I cannot.” Her voice almost brook as she looked at Legolas and then Cothion and then back to Legolas. “I cannot choose between them.”

“You will have to eventually,” said Thranduil, implacable in his determination.

Legolas tackled Cothion, driving the elf hard against a tree. Cothion gritted his teeth and took the blow, twisting away as Legolas lost some of his balance in the push.

“Please.” Rhinure gripped Thranduil’s arms, openly pleading.

“Choose.”

Legolas cried out in pain as Cothion punched him squarely in the gut. That one sound caused Rhinure to shatter. All barriers fell before Thranduil and he saw the young woman whose husband suffered before her very eyes. He saw the depth of feeling she had for his son, reluctant but undeniable.

“Please, my King. Please. He is hurting.” Rhinure’s nails bit into Thranduil’s arm and she looked like she was ready to cry.

Thranduil nodded, satisfied. He had the information he needed. Perhaps something could be salvaged from this silly conflict. He spun around and extended his arm. One of his guards placed the King’s sword in his outstretched fingers. As his fingers closed on the familiar pommel, Thranduil grimly saluted Arandur’s foresight in getting his sword. After centuries of service, the Captain had learnt to anticipate the King’s commands. The other Avari, too, would learn in time, Thranduil vowed.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas was tiring and he knew it would not be long before Cothion realised that fact too. The Avari, till now, had not shown any signs of letting up, fighting with an almost maniacal concentration. Once Legolas faltered Cothion would take full advantage of it, grinding him into the dust and publicly humiliating him. If Legolas did not do something quickly Cothion would have the pleasure of seeing him defeated. He would not let the Avari win. He could not let her take Rhinure from him.

With a furious roar, Legolas charged Cothion, determined to end this now. His knives thrust up, aiming for Cothion’s guts – only to be deflected easily by the King’s Sword.

Maddened, Legolas tried attacking again, only to fall back when he realised he was facing the King – Adar!

Legolas backed up cautiously, sanity returning once more, looking up to find a furious King looking at him. He could not remember the last when Thranduil had looked at him so, his breath caught at the power in those green eyes, and the disappointment.

There was only one thing Legolas could do. He immediately dropped to one knee, ignoring the pain, putting his hand on his heart in a gesture of fealty and homage. “My King.”

Thranduil’s gaze softened as he looked down at the fair head, but only slightly. “I should keep you on your knees until blood loss makes you too weak to get up.”

Legolas flinched at Thranduil’s tone, a little afraid that the King would do as he threatened. With the cool earth of the forest under his fingers, filling him with its sweet song, he now wondered what perverseness had promoted him to taunt Cothion in the first place. It has seemed like such a good idea earlier but now, under Thranduil’s scrutiny, Legolas felt nothing but shame.

“Get up, Prince, and get yourself to a healer,” the King commanded finally.

Legolas rose stiffly, gratefully accepting Herenion’s help, but noting with dismay the number of people gathered around. How could he not have seen the crowd before or how worried they all were?

Cothion stood to one side, surrounded by the Avari. He looked awful, Legolas thought with a start, wondering if he looked the same.

“I think everyone has seen enough.” Thranduil’s strong voice cut through the evening air, causing everyone to remember that they had somewhere else to be – anywhere else. With great alacrity the elves dispersed, leaving only the King, Herenion and the Prince alone with Cothion and the First and Second Guard.

And Rhinure …

Legolas’ breath caught as the crowd thinned, leaving her alone. She looked pale and hurt. And very angry, Legolas realised as their gazes locked and hers iced over. He wanted to say something but he was not sure what. And she did not look like she wanted to talk, especially across the yard.

Rhinure turned from Legolas to look at Cothion, noting his condition as well and, if anything, her anger intensified even further.

“Your majesty, do we have your permission to withdraw?” asked Ehtewen, needing to break this silent tableau and get Cothion to the Avari Healer.

Thranduil nodded and the Avari departed, with Cothion leaning slightly on Istion. Thranduil turned to Herenion and said, “Take Legolas to the Healers’ Wing.”

Herenion nodded and took Legolas’ hand, who shrugged off the help, eyes still trained on Rhinure, who had not moved even though she watched Cothion leave.

Thranduil observed the action and the motivation behind it. Legolas wanted Rhinure to come with him. He wanted his wife to choose him over Cothion. Thranduil could almost feel Legolas willing Rhinure to turn and step in his direction.

Rhinure did turn to look at Legolas but she did not move towards him. Legolas’ gaze softened slightly, beseeching almost. Rhinure bit her lip and if possible, paled even further, swaying a little. Though her barriers were up, they were weak and Thranduil could see beyond them now – she wanted to run to Legolas, though possibly to finish what Cothion started. This fight between Avari and Wood-elf was not over, it had only moved to the next level.

Thranduil was learning about Rhinure, and she never did what she personally wanted. Even though her concern for Legolas fairly screamed at him, she turned to look in Cothion’s direction. Her face hardened and the weakness left her abruptly. There was no confusion in her or how she was going to handle Cothion. She was pure adamant at the moment and Thranduil knew that she would deal with Cothion. He tried to dredge up some sympathy for the Avari for he knew that Rhinure would not be merciful – it was not in her nature – but all he felt was a deep satisfaction. His little Princess would handle the matter.

And if she did not, Cothion would deal with him, thought Thranduil darkly, allowing his paternal instincts to finally come to the fore.

Rhinure looked at Thranduil, eyes narrowed and he nodded. He would look after Legolas and she would take care of Cothion. With not even a by your leave, she swept out of the gardens, marching to where the Princess’ Company were housed.

To Cothion. Legolas sucked in a harsh breath, feeling as if Cothion’s blade had in fact, ripped his heart out, instead of just causing him to bleed. Once again, Rhinure had turned away from him.

Thranduil steadied Legolas as the latter suddenly tottered. His wounds did not seem that severe, so why the weakness? He gathered Legolas to him, unmindful of the blood and sweat on the child’s clothes, alarmed when Legolas clung to him.

“Ada, she …”

Thranduil’s heart squeezed. While he might have learnt to understand Rhinure and the fact that she would take care of things she could do something about first, Legolas still did not know his wife well enough to realise that her departure was not indicative of her preference. If anything it was exactly the opposite.

“Come, elfling. Let us get you to the Healer’s, where you and I will have a long overdue talk.”

Thranduil gently led Legolas away, noting that Rhinure’s action had wounded him more thoroughly than all of Cothion’s attacks. The Prince’s steps were weary and faltered as if all will and strength had left him and the only thing keeping him up was the King’s strong arm.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 9 – Discontent and First Steps

Cothion shrugged off the Healer fussing over him but could not find the voice to order him to get back. In some recess of his mind he realised that he was suffering from shock but he could not make his limbs move or his mind work coherently. He kept thinking about his outburst and how he had almost harmed the Prince. Mistress would not be pleased but Cothion welcome her wrath, hoping that her icy fury would scour him clean.

The Healer dabbed at a bleeding cut on the side of his neck and he hissed in angry pain, causing the Avari to step back in alarm. Cothion was imposing on most days but today he was dangerous and out of control.

“If you keep shrugging him off, he will not be able to clean your wounds properly.”

Cothion looked at Ehtewen and looked down again, not wanting to see her blank face, reminding him of his own loss of control. If his wounds did not heal then it was as much as he deserved and he said so.

Ehtewen swallowed, struggling to keep calm and ignore Cothion’s despondency. The Commander was shamed enough he did not need her to add to his troubles with her dishonourable comfort.

“As much as I agree with you, you are still Avari Heir and Commander of its forces. First Guard, hold down his hands if you must.”

All the Avari in the room jerked at the sound of Rhinure’s cold command, turning around to see her in the doorway. It was a measure of their disquiet that none had heard her approaching.

“Mistress …” Ehtewen cleared her throat, hoping to say something to stay the retribution Rhinure’s eyes promised.

“Head my command, First Guard. Hold down the Commander, he still struggles.”

Ehtewen glanced at Cothion, whose face burned and who was now fairly struggling with the Healer. The elf tried pacifying the Commander so that he could help get the bloody tunic off but Cothion refused to cooperate.

Rhinure glared at Cothion. “Desist, Commander, or I will have you restrained.”

“I will not be treated as a child.”

“Since you behave like one, you leave me little choice.”

Cothion shot up, uncaring of his wounds. “I am no child.”

Rhinure looked at Ehtewen, who stepped forward and forced Cothion to sit again, pushing him down with ease. “Perhaps you are correct.” Rhinure let Cothion relax slightly before continuing implacably. “You are a spoiled, vindictive and petulant elf who has no control over himself. You do not deserve to be called a child.” Cothion opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Rhinure. “Keep silent. I have not given you leave to speak.”

Rhinure turned of the other Avari in the room. “You all have my permission to withdraw – immediately.”

The Avari Healer looked at his Mistress and then at his Commander. Though the Avari Company obeyed their Sacrifice, he bravely held his ground, not willing to abandon his patient. “Sacrifice, your Heir needs my attention.”

Rhinure’s face softened slightly, allowing that the Healer’s concern was valid. “Are the Commander’s wound serious?”

“No, but …”

“Can the First Guard treat them?”

“I suppose so, but …”

“Then please leave us. I have need of privacy.”

The Healer knew he would not win. With misgivings he bowed and left the room, hoping that Mistress Rhinure did not hurt Cothion too much. Cothion was still in shock and could not take much more. Censure was deserved but he hoped Rhinure would temper it just a little.

Rhinure waited until the Avari left before turning to Istion. “You should leave too, Second Guard.”

“I am part of your Council, Mistress and within my rights to remain.”

“Do not be eager to claim your rights, child. There will be time enough for that.”

“I will stay.”

“So be it then. Remember, you asked for this.” Rhinure sighed, wishing that she could have preserved Istion’s innocence for longer. But then could the Second Guard afford to be innocent of the burdens and ills of rule?

Taking the time to marshal her thoughts and control, Rhinure paced the small chamber while Ehtewen clean and bound numerous cuts and bruises.

“You will leave for Tirnen by first light as soon as you are recovered,” said Rhinure finally. “And you are not to step foot in the Woodland Realm again without my express permission.”

“You are banishing me?”

“You may take it however you wish.”

“Mistress, you have need of me here.”

Rhinure turned incredulously to face Cothion. “You can still say so after today without choking on your own words?”

“Mistress, I made a mistake, but that does not change …”

Rhinure held up her hand and carefully enunciated, struggling not to shout. “What you did was no mistake, it was an act of monumental stupidity, so much so that I wonder if sending you to Tirnen at all is wise.”

“Mistress, it would be meet to remember that the Prince insulted and challenged me first, when you are appointing blame.”

“Commander, why are we here?” Rhinure asked abruptly, causing him to blink in confusion.

“I am uncertain as to what you mean?”

“Why are we here, in Eryn Lasgalen, and not back with our people?”

“Because our Avari need us to be here.”

“And why do they need that?” asked Rhinure patiently, circling Cothion slowly, forcing him to turn to face her, forcing him to expend even more energy, forcing him to weaken himself in order to preserve his pride.

“Because of the Alliance.”

“Because of the Alliance. How could I have forgotten? How could I have forgotten that the Clan’s wellbeing, and possible survival is tied to the Wood-elves? How could I have forgotten that when my Commander and Heir was publicly trying to kill their Prince?”

Cothion swayed. “I was not trying to kill him.”

“It looked like that to me and to all the Wood-elves watching.”

“I just,” Cothion swallowed, “wanted to teach him a lesson.”

“I see. You wanted to teach him a lesson,” Rhinure drawled, causing all the elves in the room to flinch as the venom in her voice slashed at them. “And what lesson would that be? Why to never trust the Avari?”

“Why he should not underestimate us.”

Rhinure’s eyes flashed with untrammelled fury. “You stupid fool. You have single-handedly ruined all that I have achieved here. You have tarred us all with the brush of suspicion. Do you think the Wood-elves will help us now? Do you think Legolas would ask them to fight for us after what you have done? Let me answer that for you, since your brain has so obviously ceased functioning – no!”

“You are his wife – he must,” Cothion insisted.

Rhinure clenched her fists, fighting not to show Cothion why, as a wife, she should end what Legolas had started. As a wife she should make him bleed for what he had done to her Bonded – for daring to hurt him, for laying a single finger on him. But that, too, would be an indulgence, as much as Cothion’s display of temper had been – an indulgence she could not afford. She needed Cothion still. She must keep this about the Clan. She could not show Cothion how hurt she was, how desperately concerned she had been. For to do that was to give him power and power must remain with the Sacrifice. Otherwise, what use was she?

“You are a fool Cothion,” Rhinure said flatly, done arguing. “You leave for Tirnen tomorrow.”

“But, Mistress, his wounds …” Istion protested.

Rhinure looked at the Second Guard and then pointedly back to Cothion. “Perhaps we will be fortunate and Eru will bless us by ridding us of this problem for good.”

Istion blanched and fell silent while Cothion’s face greyed as Rhinure’s meaning flayed him.

“You leave tomorrow.”

“As my Sacrifice commands.”

“And, Cothion, you are to have no contact with Arandur from Tirnen. No messages, no letters – nothing.”

“Mistress, you cannot do that.” Cothion’s knees buckled as Rhinure’s thrust hit his heart cleanly.

“I can and I have. I will not risk you teaching the Home Guard Captain any new lessons.”

“But … if he asks for me …”

“He will not.”

“But …”

“Obey, Commander. Or have you now forgotten even that as you forgot our Alliance today?”

“Never,” Cothion finally replied, voice breaking.

“Then you are to have no contact with Arandur. And,” she paused to prolong his misery, “if I hear that you have disobeyed me by sending a message through someone else, I will remove you not you, but Arandur.”

“You cannot!”

“Do not presume to know what I can or cannot do. You underestimated me once and now I am Sacrifice – not you.”

“He is King Thranduil’s Captain. He would not let you harm Arandur.” For once, Cothion was glad of the King’s power.

“He is Avari and he is mine.” Before Cothion could call her bluff – Avari or not, Thranduil would never let wilful harm befall a loyal servant – Rhinure turned to the Guards. “We should leave the Commander to mediate over my words and prepare for the journey ahead.” When both Avari hesitate momentarily, Rhinure’s voice hardened even further. “Leave.”

Rhinure stayed for a little while longer, nothing that Cothion moved his injured shoulder with some difficulty. The bandage was already staining. It was probably not the best idea not to move him so soon but Rhinure needed him gone so that she start rebuilding. Not only the bridges he had burnt with the Wood-elves but the authority he had undermined with her own Avari. Too many would exalt his attack on the Prince, centuries of prejudice and hurt coming to the fore. Too many would look to her to continue to revenge all those who had abandoned them.

At some level, the idea appealed to her too. Make them all hurt as they had hurt the Avari. Make them realise the pain of violent loss and death implacably visited. Make them pay in blood for all the Avari blood they had spilled through negligence.

Rhinure’s dark thoughts were abruptly silenced when she realised it would have been Legolas who would have paid this blood debt today if Thranduil had not intervened. He could have died.

That thought, stated so baldly, caused Rhinure’s mind to blank for a moment. She pressed down on her breast, needing to feel her heartbeat to remind herself that it still pumped.

The Avari were truly mad, she thought with surprising detachment.

Cothion at that moment looked up at Rhinure and immediately froze. There was such rage in her eyes, cold and without a shred of mercy, that he had to claw at his fear before it choked him. He knew those eyes – and feared them. Those were the eyes of an elf on the cusp of madness, the eyes of an elf who saw too much, who knew too much – those were the eyes of the Sacrifice.

“My Sacrifice,” Cothion knelt on both knees in homage. Such a salute was rarely given for it implied a degree of submission that was generally intolerable to the proud Avari. And it implied a vulnerability that was even more frightening. But it was also a trust given to the Sacrifice, for to her all their lives were given to do as was needed – sacrifice. For if you could not trust the Sacrifice, who could you trust?

“Cothion.”

“Yes Mistress?”

“If you ever hurt him again, I will kill you.”

“Yes Mistress.” Cothion knew that this, of all the things she had said, was no bluff.

And he was afraid.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Across the Great Hall, in the Healer’s Wing, another stubborn elf refused to listen quietly – infuriating both his father and the Healer.

“Please, Your Highness! If you persist in moving so, I will not be able to dress your arm properly.”

“It does not need it.”

“My Lord, I would suggest you defer to my judgement in this.”

Legolas opened his mouth to argue again to be cut off by Thranduil. “Enough, Prince. You will submit quietly, if not graciously to the treatment.”

Legolas subsided, though seeing fit to add. “I do not want this.”

“As you have made amply clear.”

Then why are my wishes being ignored?”

“Because you are behaving foolishly,” returned Thranduil with admirable calm, feeling his nerves fray to gossamer. “As you are behaving in the matter of the Princess.”

“Adar! This is not something I will discuss with you.”

“If you want privacy, I can bind your shoulder myself.”

“I will not talk of this.” Legolas shrugged away the elleth clearing the grit from the arm wound, frustrated enough to take his anger out on anyone.

“Legolas!” Thranduil commanded everyone to leave the room, taking up the wash cloth himself. Tending to Legolas’ wounds was a painfully familiar task and one that Thranduil had done innumerable times before, especially in Legolas’ younger days. “That was inexcusably rude.”

“I am sorry.”

Thranduil shook his head and dipped the cloth in the basin, rinsing it carefully, wincing when the water turned a murky red. “I know you are angry – and hurt – but there is no reason to behave petulantly.”

“I did not want to be fussed over.”

“Then you should not have had a knock-out brawl with the Avari Commander.”

“He started it! And moreover, he deserved it.”

Thranduil hid a smile before continuing. “Be that as it may, your behaviour was shameful.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you insist on behaving improperly?” When Legolas did not reply, Thranduil answered his own question. “Because, like a wounded animal, you strike at anything instead of the one who deserves it.”

“I know not what you refer to.”

Thranduil smiled. “Then I should not call Rhinure here?”

“She will not come.” Legolas pushed the bile down before continuing viciously, “Besides, I do not want her here!”

“That is unfortunate.” Thranduil looked up from Legolas’ shoulder to the doorway. “For she is already here.”

Legolas whipped around to see a grey-faced Rhinure standing in the doorway. His mouth tightened and Thranduil could feel his muscles ready, for what he believed, would be a disastrous dismissal.

“Will you come in, child?” Thranduil asked gently, ignoring the betrayed look Legolas shot him.

Rhinure hesitated for the briefest of moments but did not give in to her cowardice. If Legolas did not want her here he would have to physically send her away, a feat beyond him for now.

Thranduil expertly bound Legolas’ shoulder, working in silence for neither Legolas nor Rhinure seemed to want to make conversation. Rhinure seemed calmer than before but she was still pale and looked shaken, much like his stubborn, silly son.

Legolas hissed as Thranduil set his shoulder, causing Rhinure to clench the sides of the chair she was seated in. “Is he well?” she asked worriedly.

“Yes, I am.” Legolas replied before Thranduil could, annoyed that she was here and hurt that she was ignoring him by speaking only to his father.

Thranduil was amused by his son’s petulance. “Would you like to finish?” he offered Rhinure.

“No, she would not.”

Rhinure would have declined but Legolas’ denial angered her. “Yes, I will do it.”

“Good, I have other things to take care of.”

“Adar!”

“You are in good hands, ion nîn. Try to hold still,” Thranduil advised, sweeping out of the room, leaving the two young elves alone – finally.

Rhinure picked up the washcloth and determinedly stepped forwards towards her husband, alone with him for the first time in what felt like years.

Legolas’ breath hitched when he felt her cool hands wash the scratches on his bare back.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No.” Legolas closed his eyes as Rhinure lifted his hair from his nape, out of the way. His muscles tensed as Rhinure worked her way down his shoulder blades.

“Shall I stop?” Rhinure asked quietly, feeling the tension in his body and afraid that he was hurting more than he was saying.

“No,” Legolas choked out.

Rhinure continued working, clearing the dirt and grit from Legolas’ back, frowning at the bruises marring the fair skin. The washcloth followed ghosting fingers, as they soothed the hurt her Avari had caused.

Silently, for she could not find the words to take away his pain, Rhinure stepped around to his front, nudging his knees slightly, until his legs opened, allowing her to step forward into the intimate space between his thighs. She placed her palms oh his chest, resting for a moment. Legolas found it difficult to breathe but he did not stop her.

The washcloth fell from her hands, unheeded to the ground, as Rhinure reassured herself that Legolas was well. Her fingers skimmed over the muscles in his arms, lingering over the deep gash in his forearm. It looked raw but at least it was not bleeding any longer. Finally, her hands came back to rest carefully on his chest, over his heart, taking comfort from its steady beat.

Rhinure bit her lip as she caressed his skin. Cothion had been more violent than she had realised. Legolas could have been seriously hurt. The thought still shook her so much that she closed her eyes against it, wondering if it would always cause her such pain to think of Legolas being harmed. If it would always hurt her so much when he hurt. If only there was something she could do. If there was only some way she could take away this pain, thrumming through their bodies.

Legolas’ eyes snapped open when he felt warmth suffuse him, wrapping around his aches and gentling them, unknotting his muscles and making them relax. He could literally feel the fatigue drain away and his wounds start to knit. It felt like …

Legolas looked up at Rhinure and back down to her palms which still rested over his heart. She was responsible, he knew it. But …

Legolas’ eyes widened even further when he realised what this feeling reminded him off – his parents, holding him when he was hurt and pouring their strength into his. But they would never have attempted something like this for superficial wounds, for healing through such bonds weakened the Healer’s fea. And it was never easy, at least never as easy as it seemed for Rhinure. She did not seem to be in pain, but then, she was good at hiding pain. Who would have thought Rhinure had such Healing tendencies within her. He would not have thought her capable of such giving. Outside of blood ties, such transference was rare in elves.

Legolas gripped Rhinure’s wrists, lifting them from his chest, almost crying out when the warmth ceased, but seeing with now sharp eyes how Rhinure swayed. He steadied her, noting how ashen her skin had become. “Are you well?”

“I should be asking you that question.” Rhinure opened her eyes and looked down and Legolas.

“I am much better now. Thank you.” Legolas frowned at the lack of comprehension in her eyes. “Rhinure, did you not do this knowingly?”

“Do what knowingly?”

“You …” Legolas trailed off as he realised that Rhinure was no Healer. Or was she hiding this gift from him? Perhaps she had healed Cothion in the same way but did not want to admit as much to him?

“I … what?”

Legolas shook his head, struck dumb by a new, frightening but wonderful thought. Married couples were known to share strength, share their fea, much like when they brought a child into the world. Had not Thranduil literally brightened when Eruante was near? If parents could bolster their children then could not a wife her husband? If this was true, Rhinure would realise soon enough. Instinctively he knew that she would be uncomfortable with the level of intimacy such a bond implied. She would not sleep with him let alone share strength. If she learnt of this, would she blame him for using her and push him away?

“Legolas, what is wrong?”

“Nothing, beyond my wounds.” Legolas frowned, “Why do you ask?”

Rhinure shook her head to clear it. She was tired and it felt like she was hearing double. For a moment, she could have sworn that Legolas was afraid. “I just thought …”

“Yes?”

“It is not important. I should bandage your arm.” Rhinure bent down to pick up the linen strips, wrapping the cloth quickly and efficiently. “There, that should stop any infection. It already looks a lot better.”

Legolas raised an ironic eyebrow. “Does it not?” Perhaps realisation would take some time. Or … perhaps it was just his wishful thinking clouding his already dulled judgement. He had wanted this bond or so long that he was now imagining it.

“I should leave you now.” Rhinure stepped back from Legolas only to have him capture her wrist in a painful grip.

“Do you leave me to go back to your Heir?”

Rhinure’s face closed at Legolas’ accusatory tone. “And if I do?”

“Then I will not stop you, my Lady. You obviously have your own priorities and I am not part of them.” Legolas dropped her wrist and turned away to pick up the clean shirt next to him. Seeing his struggle, Rhinure stepped forward to help him only to fall back at his vicious command to let him be.

“I do not need your help,” he said coldly.

Rhinure stepped back feeling as if Legolas had struck her. Her pain speared him and he looked up with narrowed eyes. Though Rhinure stood with her back straight and face composed, Legolas could feel her hurt.

“With your leave, my Lord.”

*~ I will go supervise Cothion’s departure. ~*

Legolas caught the stray end of that though and he paled at the bitterness underlying it. He struggled to his feet but by then Rhinure had left the room. She was sending Cothion away, but why?

Was it because of him? And was that why she was so bitter?

Legolas slipped on the shirt carelessly and took off after Rhinure. Was she sending Cothion away? Had he heard her correctly? Or was he imagining things? Was it because of him? For him?

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Rhinure, stop.”

Rhinure turned to see Legolas behind her in the corridor and slowed her pace. What did he want from her now?

“Rhinure, stop. I wish to speak to you.”

“You wish to accuse me, for which I have no tolerance left, my Lord.”

“Are you sending Cothion away?”

Rhinure whirled around in shock. “How did you know?”

“I take that to mean that you are.” Legolas finally caught up with her. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why are you sending him away? It is a simple enough question,” Legolas insisted.

“He is Avari Commander. He is needed in Tirnen and has been away long enough.”

Legolas peered at Rhinure’s face. “Is that the only reason?”

Rhinure deflected the question calmly. “What other reason could there be?”

Legolas opened his senses as wide as possible wondering, hoping, that he would get some clue as to what Rhinure was thinking. Nothing – Rhinure’s mind was as closed to him as before, her fea as distant from his as before. “I was just wondering.”

“Wondering what exactly, my Lord?”

“If his departure had anything to do with what happened today.”

Rhinure’s face tightened and she withdrew slightly from Legolas. “Today should not have happened. Even so, Cothion would have had to leave for Tirnen soon enough.”

Legolas nodded and managed to control his disappointment. He executed a hasty bow and left aching and confused Rhinure behind.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Morning came and with it Cothion’s departure. The Avari company watched as the Commander swung on to his horse, noting that his arm was in a sling and that he looked pale. They also noticed that the Woodland elves watched them carefully, hands near their swords.

But most of all, they noticed the Avari Sacrifice standing on top of the steps, looking at Cothion, She had not spoken a word since he had appeared and neither had she accompanied him down.

Her silent disapproval hung on him like a weight, slumping his shoulders.

“You should not let him leave like this.”

Rhinure ignored the First Guard’s quiet words and kept her gaze straight.

“He made a mistake.”

Silence.

“He was just trying to protect you.” Ehtewen was not sure if her words were making any difference but she had to try. Sending Cothion away like this would be a blow that he might never recover from. Cothion lived to serve. Take that away from him and Ehtewen was not sure if his life would be worth living.

“He is your Avari. It is your duty to protect him, from himself if need be.”

“Mistress, you cannot do this.”

Rhinure looked at Ehtewen. “You are dismissed, First Guard.” Her voice sounded hoarse even to herself.

“Mistress …”

“Obey.”

“As the Sacrifice commands.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Cothion looked up to where Rhinure stood, silent and stern. Though he would not admit it, even to himself, he hoped that she would say something, anything. Call out to him, call him back. Let him know somehow that what he had done was not irreparable.

The Avari Commander sought forgiveness he knew not how to give and knew not how to ask for.

He glanced up again but Rhinure did not move. He swung himself up to his horse, wincing as the action jarred his injured shoulder.

“Are you ready to depart, Commander?” his Lieutenant asked.

“Yes.”

The Avari escort surged forward at the Lieutenant’s command with Cothion in the centre. Before they could move more than a few paces they were stopped by the Home Guard elves. From amongst them, a sombre Arandur stepped forward.

“We will be joining you till the borders, Commander.”

Cothion blinked, immediately suspicious though internally joyous at seeing Arandur again. “Has the King commanded your presence here?” It was not usual to have the Captain of the Home Guard escort dignitaries away from the King. Arandur’s place was with the King.

“On the Sacrifice’s request.”

Cothion looked back at the steps, to find that Rhinure had left.

“Are you ready to leave, Commander?”

“I am.” *~ Brother ~*

Cothion straightened and gave the signal to move out. Arandur fell back to ride next to him.

Sometimes, forgiveness was given without words and without being asked for.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas paused at the garden’s threshold; it seemed empty but Rhinure had to be there. He had searched the entire Palace in vain but there was no sign of her. It was as if Rhinure had departed as well, like her Commander, and the thought did not sit well with Legolas.

There! Hidden under the shadow of a giant oak, away from the glare of the noonday sun, sat Rhinure, wrapped in her voluminous black cloak.

“You are missing lunch, sitting here in the shadows.”

Rhinure looked up from beneath her hood. Legolas was blocking the sun, casting her completely into darkness. “I am not hungry.”

Legolas sat on the bench next to her, close enough to catch her near whisper, but just far enough not to be touching her. “What are you doing here?”

Rhinure turned aware from him to stare off in to the distance. “Sitting.”

“Why?”

Rhinure sighed. “If you must know, I was thinking.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“If you were, would you leave me be?”

“If you answered my question, then perhaps.”

“I was thinking about Cothion and his departure.”

“Oh.” Legolas did not know what to say to that. “If you regret his departure so much then why did you send him away in the first place?”

“I do not regret my decision but I do not like it either.”

“You could always recall him. Unless,” he ventured, “you are displeased with him?”

“He almost killed you. How can you ask me such a question?” Rhinure rounded on Legolas and asked incredulously.

“I was never in any danger.” Legolas was careful not to read too much into her words.

“It did not look like that to me.”

“So now you think me unable to hold my own in battle as well as not worthy of your time?”

Rhinure clenched her fists, struggling to keep calm. “Why do you insist on making such baseless accusation? I think no such thing.”

“I cannot know what you think but you certainly behave as if you did.”

Rhinure shot up, hood falling back, revealing flashing eyes in a still too pale face. “How dare you insult me so?”

“How could you have left me for Cothion?” Legolas jumped up too, spoiling for a fight, his anger still boiling.

“I have done no such thing. I banished him for daring to harm you and you still accuse me so!”

“You sent him away because he was needed in Tirnen. You cannot now say it was for me.” Legolas stepped forward, crowding Rhinure’s personal space but she did not fall back this time, too furious to be circumspect.

“Yes, he was needed at home. I cannot deny that.”

“Hah!” Legolas folded his arms in bitter triumph.

“But if he were not necessary, leaving was not a mercy I would have granted given his temerity in harming you.”

Legolas’ arms fell slack in surprise.

“I have never come so close to doing irrational violence against my own Avari as I came yesterday and you still doubt me!”

“Rhinure …” Legolas clutched at her shoulder to stop her words but she struggled under his grip. “Yesterday you did not come to me after I left the field.”

Rhinure slapped away Legolas uninjured hand. “I came to you, even though you did not want me there.”

“After you want to Cothion.”

“I took care of necessary matter first.”

“And I am not necessary to you?”

“You are my husband.” Rhinure turned away, not wanting Legolas to see the tears in her eyes. “I had to get him away from you.”

Her shoulders hunched against remembered pain and her voice became shaky. “If something had happened to you …” She choked at the thought and could not continue.

Legolas swayed, dizzy from pain and fatigue – his, hers – theirs. Words were obviously not getting them anywhere. All he had managed to do was hurt his hereto impervious wife. “Dear one …” Legolas turned Rhinure around but she avoided his gaze.

“Do not call me that,” she whispered.

“But you are dear to me.” Legolas lifted her chin so that he could look at her, a pleasure he had been denied for too long. His fingers traced her cheekbones, causing her to tremble. “More than I had realised,” he whispered as he pulled her close, bending his head so that he could kiss her.

As soon as Rhinure felt his breath on her mouth, she snapped out of her daze. “Let me go. I will not let you manoeuvre me so.”

“Manoeuvre you? Rhinure all I want is one embrace from you.”

“A minute ago you were making vile accusations and now ‘all you want is one embrace’? What do you hope to accomplish by this? Have you not done enough?” Rhinure tried to get free again but stilled immediately as her struggles jostled his shoulder, causing him to wince.

“One kiss seeking forgiveness, nothing more,” Legolas coaxed when he saw Rhinure make no move to break free. He moved forward again, slowly, careful not to spook her.

“I have done nothing to seek forgiveness for,” Rhinure returned weakly, placing her palms on Legolas’ chest to slow his advance but taking care not to hurt him.

“It is not you who seek forgiveness – it is I.”

Rhinure stopped pushing, looking up in surprise. Legolas took the opportunity to kiss her, gathering her as close he could with one arm.

“Legolas …” Rhinure angled her head up to deepen the kiss, wanting to give comfort to her beautiful husband and, more honestly, take comfort from his nearness. Her arms slipped around his neck and Legolas smiled.

“Forgive me, dear one.” Legolas lifted his mouth to ask but returned it before she could answer, afraid of what she would say.

The kiss remained coaxing and gentle as both elves were still struggling with their recent separation but soon it was not longer enough. Rhinure’s hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer until she was pressed flat against him. He bit her lips in desperation, causing her to moan in protest.

That one sound, small though it had been, broke Legolas’ already fragile control. His kisses became feverish, covering her mouth, cheeks, eyes, even inch of skin he could reach and then back again.

“You have to forgive me, Rhinure.”

She whimpered against the onslaught she did not have the will to end but he took the sound as a denial. “You must listen to me,” he insisted.

*~ You must do as I say. ~*

Rhinure pulled out of his arms with a wounded cry. “I will not let you use me like this.”

Legolas caught her arms before she could retreat once more. “I will not let you run away from me this time.”

“I am not running. I just refuse to fall for your blandishments any longer. I will not let you manipulate me any longer.”

Legolas gritted his teeth, furious with her again. “Explain,” he demanded tersely, determined to ignore how her severe braid was mussed, letting wisps of dark hair caress her flushed face and red swollen lips.

“You are well aware of what you do to me. Do not pretend ignorance now, Your Highness.”

“And what do I do to you?” asked Legolas, stepping forward, but this time to threaten.

Rhinure stepped back to maintain the distance between them and stop herself from hurling herself into his arms and letting him wipe the last two days completely from her mind. “You touch me and I forget what I was saying. You kiss me and I do what you wish.”

One any other occasion those words would have made Legolas dance with exultation but the bitterness in those quiet words stayed him. “Is it so unbearable if I make you feel so?”

“It is when you use it against me.”

“I have never used it against you!”

“What were you doing just now?”

“That was not premeditated, and you know it.”

Rhinure looked away. “And that public display in the garrison?”

Legolas flushed. “That was for the crowd’s benefit, not a ploy against you.”

“And I am supposed to believe that you had no idea that such a display would be anathema to me and my way of life? That I would not appreciate being used in such a fashion, in front of a crowd of strangers, when I do not allow liberties even to you, my Bonded?”

“What was I supposed to do? I had to think of my people. Surely you can appreciate my dilemma. I had to create an illusion of harmony between us since the truth was certainty not helping.”

“And how do you justify kissing me in front of Cothion? What were you creating then?”

“Then I was staking my claim!”

“You were using what we shared to make some point against my Commander, against me – just to get your own way! As you did when you ‘convinced’ me to accompany you to Gondor!”

Legolas flinched at the truth in those words but he had no choice. Rhinure would not have conceded with any grace, so he had had to push and sway her – but just a little. “That morn I only tried a little persuasion to make you see my point of view. Am I not even allowed to do that? Am I always to bow before your wishes, without even requesting anything of you?”

“You did not ask, you demanded. And, when that did not work, you manipulated.”

“And if I did, do you expect me to feel guilty about it?”

Rhinure bit her lip, not particularly surprised that Legolas would not admit his fault, but his defiance was shocking. “I do not ask you to feel anything, my Lord,” she said stiffly, “just to admit what you do.”

“I allowed my hands and mouth to speak for me when you would not listen to my words. That is not manipulation.”

“It is when you leave me no choice.”

“I would not have restrained you. Have I not left you alone recently? If I could manipulate you, as you accuse, would I have done so? Why would I have suffered the disharmony between us if I could bend you to my will?”

Rhinure gaze fell away in a rush of vulnerability. “I can only presume that that there was nothing you wanted from me.”

Legolas laughed but it was not a happy sound. “Then you presume wrong. I have wanted – you. I have ached for you but left you in peace for you did not want me.”

“That is not true.”

“You have had time for everyone except me. What am I supposed to think?”

“That I was wary and was waiting for some sign, for some modicum of understanding that you would not misuse our bond – as you already promised once and failed to keep.”

“And I must always be the one to understand. You could not see that what I did was because of circumstances which left me no alternative. I did the only thing which was within reason.”

“And who will define what is reasonable? If you do it, I will forever be yielding.”

“And will that be so unpleasant?” Legolas challenged, eyes raking her form, reminding her of the intimacies they shared when they were not at each other throats.

Rhinure trembled, not immune to the silent promise even though she was still furious with him. “If you can ask that, my Lord, then you truly know nothing of me.” This sniping was pointless. All it did was make her ache and she had little stamina to fight as it was. She made to leave the garden, perhaps lie down in her chambers before dinner was served.

Legolas growled, blocking her path. If she left now they would never get past this rift. Rhinure’s tired shoulders and defeated gait told him as much. He could not have that. He could not lose her – the thought filled him with raw panic. “Sit.” He waved to the bench they both had so recently vacated.

“You are commanding me again.” Rhinure did not sit but neither did she leave. Something held her back – a faint entreaty, a sense which she could not name but could not ignore. Rhinure pressed her temples, wishing her head would clear.

“Once in a while everyone has to submit to commands, stubborn wife of mine. Why not start with me, with something so simple?”

Since she could not refuse without seeming churlish, Rhinure sat down with cool dignity.

“Now,” Legolas took a deep breath to bring himself back under control, “we will talk. Not snarl and accuse each other. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes.”

“Now, as to your accusation …”

“It cannot be an accusation if it is the truth.”

“We have not decided that yet.”

“Do not take me for a fool, Legolas. I am not some simple maid come for the Prince’s justice. I am Sacrifice and no matter how vulnerable I am to it, I recognise manipulation when I see it.”

Legolas said nothing for he knew she was correct, but that did not meant that he would not do it again if given the opportunity and need.

“You do not deny it now.”

“How can I when you already condemn me?”

“Speaking the truth has become condemnation, has it? Where is your sense of fair play now, my Prince?”

“Peace, my Lady. Since you insist, I will admit that, in other circumstances, what I did would not have been fair …”

“But with me ordinary standards do not apply?” asked Rhinure coldly.

“How can they, when you are not ordinary by any standard?” Legolas stated softly.

“But you admit that what you did was not just?”

“Yes,” admitted the Prince with heart-breaking courage.

“And that you manipulated me?”

“Yes.” Legolas looked his wife straight in the eye and added, “And I will do it again, when I see the need.”

What to say to that?

Rhinure struggled for breath when Legolas gaze became unyielding.

“I give you fair warning, hervess nin; I, too, am no fool. I will use what I must.”

“And what of your promise to me?” Rhinure asked. “You said that you would never intentionally use my body against me. You said that, did you not?”

“I did.”

“And now you renege on your word?” Rhinure asked incredulously.

“What would you have me do, Rhinure?” Legolas demanded tiredly, bending forward to rest his hands on his thigh. “I have no other option. Everything you do is such a battle that not using the only weapon I have would be suicide.”

“You promised,” Rhinure repeated, truly afraid now. If Legolas did not adhere to the scruples he held so dear, then what chance did she have?

Legolas sighed and cradled his head in his hand. “You could walk away from me, Rhinure. Right now. Just leave and you will never have to suffer my manipulations again.”

“And you will let me leave you?” Rhinure held her breath, waiting for Legolas’ answer.

“It is, as, in the end all things are, even to give in to me – your choice, my Lady.”

Rhinure watched the precious golden head, bowed before her. Her heart wrenched and she spoke with unvarnished truth. “Leaving you is no choice at all, my Lord.”

Legolas looked up, his blue eyes huge in his pale face.

“I could not leave you and you know that.” Rhinure shifted a little closer.

Legolas looked at her. “Rhinure, I do not wish to force you.”

“No, please, listen,” Rhinure pleaded, moving even closer until her knee touched his. “I did not mean that I lacked the choice. I meant,” Rhinure paused, struggling to find the correct words. In mute appeal she put her hand on his knee.

“What did you mean?” Legolas asked, covering her hand with his.

“I meant that the choice was not worth contemplating. I will not leave you.”

“Why?”

“I do not understand.”

“Why would you stay? After all, I make it difficult for you and you are often displeased with me. Would it not be easier if you were not with me?”

“And would our alliance still hold if I were not here?” Rhinure asked cautiously, wondering if she had been wrong about this whole thing from the beginning.

“I would not make my people, or yours, suffer because of anything that happened between us.”

“Are you certain? Or is this too a vow that you will withdraw when it is inconvenient?” When Legolas made no answer, she persisted. “If our personal life embittered you, would you take it out on my people?”

“I would not let an innocent suffer for my personal disappointments. Your people are safe from me.”

“And am I?”

“You are not an innocent,” said Legolas baldly. “You test my patience, and great though it may be, infinite it is not.”

Rhinure sighed, “Why are you so hard on me? You overlook mistakes as a Prince more readily than as my husband. Why do you push so hard with me that is becomes difficult not to push back?”

“Because you are my wife. The two standards are not comparable; what I do as a Prince, the mistakes I forgive, the impertinence I overlook, I will not do for you. I will make no apologies for holding you to a higher standard as my wife. If I am beyond everything for you then should you not be everything and more for me as well? Do you not expect more from me than from others, Rhinure?” he asked, thumb moving across her knuckles.

“I try not to.”

“Then perhaps you should.”

“How can I when you do not even do what most will? You gave me your word.”

“I can only try, dear one. You make it difficult. I am not perfect and cannot help but be tempted by you. You consent so beautifully that it brings me pleasure. I am not so inured as to avoid pleasure yet.”

*~ Though if you continue to hurt me so, it will not be long before I am too cruel for you to break. ~*

“I would not want you to be.” Rhinure squeezed Legolas’ hand.

“So you admit that you consent when I touch you?” Legolas was quick to pounce on her words.

“If consent is to be bought by lack of thought, then yes, I consent. But I always thought that consent was rational and measured.”

“Perhaps,” Legolas conceded. “But then again, if one knows what will happen and does nothing to stop it, then is it not consent at least – if not connivance.”

“Are you suggesting that I invite the insanity you bring?” Rhinure’s eyes widened in indignation and surprise. This conversation was not going the way it should have. They should have talked calmly and reached an amicable, mutually satisfactory decision, which would ensure that Legolas would not try to seduce her again. Instead Rhinure’s head spun and she was now more confused than ever before.

“I cannot say about the insanity but you do invite my touch.” Legolas traced her lips, eyes trained on her mouth. “Can you deny it?”

“No,” said Rhinure honestly, feeling her mouth throb under his fingers.

“Then, in the final analysis, it cannot be manipulation.”

Rhinure frowned, mesmerised by the triumph she saw in his eyes. “When you put it like that, it is difficult to disagree.”

“Then do not.” Legolas drew her towards him but she stopped his arm.

“Legolas, please … do not.”

“I want to take you to my bed. It has been empty for too long.”

Rhinure coloured at the blunt statement bur remained firm. “As it has been for me too but it would not solve any of our problems. I would still suspect you of using our love-making against me. Such suspicious is tiring, my Lord. I do not wish to do it any longer.”

“What would you have us to then? Give up on the one thing that works between us?”

“Perhaps we can work at building something new, something else that works as well.”

“How?”

“I do not know but we cannot always rely on something that is so volatile. We need to build something which is more …”

“Rational?”

Rhinure nodded and looked hopefully at Legolas, who found himself unable to hold out against those eyes, even though he did not like this idea of abstinence. In fact, he hated it. But … the thought of creating something new with Rhinure, something a little more permanent than physical attraction was very tempting. Almost as tempting as making love to her.

“I suppose we could try to be more honest with each other. Or,” Legolas amended ironically, “at the very least we could air our grievances before they fester. Use more words and less action in our dealings with each other.”

“You will ask instead of seducing? And you will not jump to conclusions?”

“Only if you stop avoiding me and the issues that crop up between us. I will not suffer the Avari silent stoicism from you any longer.”

“Agreed.”

“Wait, one more thing. Will you try to do some things you dislike if I ask you?”

“What things?” Rhinure asked suspiciously. “You cannot expect me to promise something which is so vague.”

“Will you dance with me next time we have the opportunity, even if you do not have the inclination?”

“I thought we were going to try to talk more and not be so … physical.”

“My lady, it is a simple dance I request, not a brazen seduction.”

Rhinure blushed but did not keep silent as she would have before. She would keep to her word, even if it went against what she was familiar with. Such openness was alien to her and uncomfortable. “Dancing with you will be one and the same for me.”

Legolas grinned suddenly, a real smile lighting his face. He already felt more light-hearted than he had in days, though that was not saying much. Looking at Rhinure’s reddened cheeks and downcast gaze, he knew that she was thinking of what it would be like to dance with him. He would hold her tightly within him arms, so close that a whisper would not be able to pass between them. They would move together, in harmony with each other and the music.

Suddenly, Legolas could see the seduction in his request and he was enchanted. His fingers lifted to touch his wife’s cheek before he knew what he was doing.

“Legolas, you promised.”

His hand fell away immediately. “How long is my bed going to stay empty?”

Rhinure swallowed and forced herself to offer. “I could … I could find you another bedmate.”

“No!” Legolas’ eyes flashed in warning and Rhinure felt her heart settle down again.

“Then, I think, this will take some time.”

“Alright.” Legolas took Rhinure’s hand and kissed it in a courtly gesture, sealing their pact. “And, in the spirit of our deal, let me tell you about our first problem.”

Rhinure looked up questioningly; she had thought they were making progress.

“I want to seduce you.”

And Rhinure found herself blushing – again.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Thank for you reading.

And in case anyone was wondering the chapter title refers to a quote from Wilde:

Discontent is the first step towards the progress of a man …

Dear All,

It’s been a while and then some. Things have been a little crazy for the last year or so, as I am sure most of you realise. For all of those who have been impacted by the financial crisis, who have lost their jobs, savings, faith in banks this is for you. Please take this as a humble offering to cheer you up and distract you for a little while. Please excuse any mistakes as this chapter has not been beta read as Nilmandra has been caught up with RL.

Nilmandra, if you are reading this, this chapter is for you. Hope you get better soon …

Chapter 10 – A Journey of a Thousand Miles …

Thranduil handed the sheaf of papers back to the Seneschal, nodding in approval of the plans.

Legolas walked up to the King. “How many refugees are we expecting?”

“We evacuated the two border settlements in the north-east.”

“I did not realise the attacks had increased.”

“They have not. We moved them pre-emptively.”

“But … the farms?”

“Abandoned.”

Legolas sucked in a sharp breath but controlled himself, realising that they had an audience. “Should we be worried?”

Thranduil smiled as he signed a petition “We are always worried but no more than usual.”

“The villagers …”

“Will be accommodated. We will have to re-tool our food supplies, release some of the stores for now as we get other sources running. I think we should start sending the hunters out from tomorrow in order to replenish our meat stores.”

Legolas nodded. “It will not be easy.”

“Nothing is ever easy.” Thranduil turned to look at Legolas. “Get dressed, we are going to see if the elves have settled in.” Legolas bowed and made to leave, only to be stopped by Thranduil. “I have also asked Princess Rhinure to join us.”

“If you think it is wise.”

“I do. A woman’s touch might be needed.”

“As my King commands.”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. “You are not going to protest?”

“Of course not, your Majesty. I would never allow anything to jeopardise our people’s comfort.”

“Yes, the Prince would do what is necessary. But would the elf be as happy with my decision?”

Legolas tried ducking the question, mortified that Thranduil had even to ask. “Why would I not be content?”

“You have hardly spent anytime with your wife unless you have had no choice.”

“Yes, well, I hope to change that.”

“Really? I can hope that this recent defrosting is permanent then?”

“Defrosting?”

“Given the last two weeks, I could not help noticing that you both are being cordial to each other,” Thranduil pointed out. “Or, at the very least, you both are not deliberately avoiding each other as before. I did not want to falsely hope for a reconciliation but perhaps it would not be in vain to do so now?”

Legolas flushed in shame for having caused Thranduil such patent anxiety. He looked around to make sure that no one was near and they were alone as they could be with Herenion and Arandur trailing them in the distance. “Rhinure and I have … talked.”

“The result of which was?”

“The result of which will remain between us. However, I, too, am hopeful – but caution is always warranted.”

“So things are progressing well?”

“They are not deteriorating. I wait to see if recent developments can be called progress.”

Thranduil grinned, “So circumspect, little one? You sound almost diplomatic.”

“I am learning that marriage is akin to diplomacy. At times, frighteningly so,” said Legolas ruefully.

Thranduil nodded. “But I would advise that, while caution, is a necessary thing in diplomacy, so is audacity.”

“At times. Nevertheless, you advice is, as always, heeded.” Legolas bowed in acknowledgment.

Thranduil laughed and clapped Legolas on the shoulder. “Hardly. If you heeded my advice you would not get into half the messes you do.”

“Maybe, but then you would not be able to rescue me if I did. And where would be the fun in that?”

Thranduil shook his head, “Go and change into something more presentable, Prince. I await your return.”

“As you command.” Legolas straightened and bowed to his King before exiting the room.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Stop fidgeting with your collar,” Herenion admonished from the corner of Legolas’ dressing chamber.

“I do not like it.” Legolas fingered the elaborate dress. “I want to make the right impression.”

“You look very impressive and regal. Do not worry so.”

“Why are you always giving me advice on my dress?”

“Because you still obviously need a nursemaid to get dressed.”

“You were not meant to answer that question.”

“Then why did you ask the question, silly elf?”

Legolas opened his mouth and closed it again quickly when he saw the glint in Herenion’s eyes. This was going to be one of those conversations and he did not have time for this. “I said I wanted to make the right impression. That does not mean looking decadent in the face of their losses. I do not want to awe them with opulence but reassure them.” Legolas started to unbutton the formal gown.

“Rubbish! You look like a Prince is supposed to. What impression will you make if you appear shabbily dressed? What hope will the Realm have if their Prince cannot afford to look presentable?”

“Who is not looking presentable?” A puzzled voice made the two elves turn to the balcony.

“Your Highness.” Herenion bowed to an obviously ready Rhinure who stood in the doorway.

“I called but no one answered, so I came in. I hope I do not intrude.”

“Of course not, my Lady.” Legolas swallowed, “You look lovely.” And she did, the deep emerald setting of her fairness. Little cap sleeves drew attention to her bare arms while the wide neck taunted him with an expanse of soft skin. “You are wearing it.”

“What? Oh, yes.” Rhinure self-consciously touched the silver chain around her neck which was holding up a large emerald. “It went well with the dress. Thank you, your gift is most appreciated.”

Legolas nodded, trying not to stare at her but finding his eyes straying to the jewel nestled against her skin – where he wanted to be.

Herenion grinned – silly elves indeed. “Forgive me for asking, your Highness, but you are not worried about looking opulent?”

Rhinure frowned at Herenion, tearing her eyes away from Legolas’s face. “Should I be? I did not think it inappropriate to look one’s best, since I thought this was a welcoming of the villagers. If I have misunderstood and this is an occasion of Duty then I have my black dresses too. I could change.”

“No, there is no need.” Legolas hastened to assure her.

“Then this is not a formal occasion?”

“Well,” Legolas processed cautiously since he was uncertain about the subtlety Rhinure was trying to convey, “it is and it is not at the same time.”

“But …”

“It is in the sense that the Royal Family is to go and welcome these elves to the Palace,” Herenion supplied after watching Legolas flounder for a minute or two.

“But, it is not a solemn occasion then, which requires me to be on-duty? If so, I would prefer to have the proper guise on.”

 “And how are you attired now?” Legolas asked, intrigued by the choice of Rhinure’s words.

“As myself. How should I be dressed?”

Legolas shook is head. “I meant, how would wearing black make the dress any more appropriate?”

“For then I would be Sacrifice greeting her people instead of Rhinure doing the same. The King intimated that he wanted to downplay the seriousness of this move.”

“I think he meant for us to reassuring.”

“Is that not the same thing?”

Legolas sidestepped the potential entanglements of that question by asking her to continue with her explanation; Rhinure acknowledged the dodge and dropped the subject. “There is nothing else to say. If I have misunderstood then I should change. Occasions where Duty is paramount should always be greeted in black.”

Legolas cringed at the dire attitude though he understood its motives. What other use of a uniform except to create an atmosphere? Rhinure had understood the distinction he was trying to capture perfectly – or was it instinctively? This was not an occasion to overwhelm but to bolster – and the stern Prince could not do that as well a member of Eryn Lasgalen’s Royal Family. “You did not misunderstand the King at all.”

Legolas looked over Rhinure again, taking in the differences between this woman and the ones he saw normally. For lack of better words, this one looked relaxed and not as if she prepared for an impending battle. “You look perfect.”

Rhinure ducked her head in thanks and for a fleeting moment, Legolas had the feeling that the relaxed stance was as much a pose as her black armour. He stepped forward and lifted her chin to look into her eyes, which were as cold as always, as closed to him as if she was Sacrifice.

This was just another battle, fought with gentler weapons.

“One of these days, I would like to see what Rhinure really looks like,” he whispered to her.

Rhinure’s eyes fell away from his but after a pause, she raised them again. “I would like that.” Her eyes were gentle and cool, like fresh water on a hot summer day.

Herenion coughed, not wanting to break up the tableau but the King waited. He had not seen Legolas and Rhinure like this for a while – if ever.

“We should leave.” Legolas stepped back.

“Yes.” Rhinure frowned at the open buttons on Legolas’ overcoat. “Here let me help you.” She quickly buttoned up the heavy silk again, smoothing down the material so that it fell as it should. “You look beautiful.” Rhinure walked to the door. “I am waiting for you.”

Herenion stepped forward, whispering into Legolas’ ear, wiping the silly grin’s from the younger Elf’s face. “Why is it that when I tell you that you look fine you argue, but accept the Princess’ words immediately?”

“Come Herenion, the King waits for us.”

“And the Princess,” quipped Herenion, squashing Legolas’ attempt to change the subject.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure shifted a little, trying to each the ache between her shoulders. She had not been sleeping well and this elf’s recitation on the wheat fields was not helping.

“We appreciate the care you have shown, Farmer Óron,” Thranduil nodded at the poor babbling elf, while simultaneously shooting Rhinure a warning glance which made her still immediately. On his other side, Legolas grinned but Thranduil’s glare made him school his features. They did not want offend the elf. And grinning and fidgeting were not helping. “We will expect a detailed report from you later.”

Legolas and Rhinure shared incredulous looks but did not say anything beyond words of welcome. How much more detailed could wheat reports get?

“Behave.” Thranduil’s whispered admonishment made both of them straighten up as they walked to the next elf.

Rhinure eased into Sacrifice stance; it made dealing with elves so much easier. The next few elves saw a calm, collected face which betrayed no unease and only patient interest in their words. Legolas followed suit, breaking any monotony or hint of routine with a sympathetic nod and sometimes a smile of encouragement. Slowly, the villagers waiting in line to meet the Family lost their discomfort and opened up.

Legolas stopped in front of an elleth who was cradling her left arm. “Are you in pain, my Lady?

“Oh no, your grace, it is nothing. Just a mild sprain.”

Legolas knew she was lying. “May I see it?”

The elleth panicked and stepped back. “It is truly nothing, my arm is just a little stiff.”

“I know how that feels,” a rueful Thranduil stepped into the conversation. The elleth’s mouth snapped shut in awe at the sight of the golden King. Thranduil continued as if nothing has happened. “Sometimes the slightest of knocks can hurt more than a deep wound, is that not so?” When the elleth shyly nodded, he continued in a soothing manner. “I find that a plaster is often best in such cases, something to keep the arm warm.”

“Oh yes,” agreed Legolas, picking up the conversation as if they were discussing herbal remedies for rashes and not a torn ligament, as it clearly looked to be. “In fact, I recently hurt my shoulder and found this wonderful infusion which worked wonders. Very simply to make – anyone could do it, even from home.”

“Really?”

“Truly.” Legolas stepped back a little and the elleth stepped forward from the crowd just a little. “In fact, my wife made it for me and she is … if I may confide in you?”

“Oh yes.”

“Well then you must come near for not everyone should hear this.” Legolas gently took her right arm and led her away to where the Healers stood. The poor chit walked alongside him in a daze of pain and bemusement. “She, my wife I mean, is not very good at this sort of thing. But even she can make the brew.”

“Really? She does not look like she would be bad at anything she did.” The elleth looked at Rhinure, chatting with a cluster of maid and young elves, and back up at Legolas who smiled at her kindly and made her forget the question.

“If you do not believe me, ask Healer Eirien. She will tell you about the infusion and other remedies for sprains.” Legolas handed over the elleth, mouthing ‘torn ligament’ to the Healer, who nodded imperceptibly and took the young elf to the Healers’ tent.

Rhinure watched Legolas’ progress from the corner of her eye. While his effect of females was aggravating though amazing, together, his father and he could charm a squirrel in giving them its last nut – right before winter. She would do well to remember that and remain on her guard when dealing with them.

Before her thoughts could wonder far in that dark direction, a soft whimper from a woman’s skirts caught her attention. “I think I heard something.”

“Your Highness,” the woman swallowed, hoping she had not offended her new strange Princess somehow. “It is only my daughter.” She brought a tiny elfling, maybe around ten or twelve, from behind her. She was shocked when the Princess knelt to look at the child, uncaring of her dignity or her expensive skirts.

“And who is this?” Rhinure smiled; a full blown, delighted smile which lighted her face.

And the child, recognizing a kindred spirit when she saw one, walked straight into Rhinure’s arms.

“Aertaith!” The mother stepped forward to take the child from Rhinure, mortified by the incident.

“It is well.” Rhinure swayed with the elfling in her arms, nodding to the woman. The child, lulled by the rocking, yawned again.

“I see someone is tired.”

“Yes. We walked and walked. My shoes’ scruffed.” The elfling lifted her foot to show the nice new lady.

“I can see that. We will have to get you new shoes then.” Rhinure caught hold of the foot, tickling the little knee, causing the girl to giggle.

“Yes! Pink!”

The mother gasped in embarrassment. “Your Highness, you should not encourage her.”

“Why ever not? If the child wants pink shoes then let her have them.”

“Your Highness,” the woman bit her lip. “We cannot afford it. My husband … he was hurt in the last raid and …” she trailed off.

The child sensing her mother’s distress whimpered, causing Rhinure to cuddle her closer. “Ada’s hurt. Can’t play with me no more.”

Rhinure sighed. At least he was still alive. “Who plays with you then?”

“No one. All us elflings have to sit quietly and make little noise until bad people go away. Ada promised that we’ll play here. You play too?”

“The Princess will be too busy to play, Aertaith.”

“I want pretty lady to play! And I want my new shoes!”

“A strong-willed child, are you not?” Rhinure smiled, calming the woman who was ready to wring her hands.

“Your Highness, until my husband gets well and finds a job we cannot afford such foolishness.”

“Come to the Palace tomorrow with your child and we will see what we can do.” Rhinure smoothed the girl’s black hair back from her forehead. She looked ready to fall asleep.

The woman took the drowsy baby from Rhinure’s arms. “Your Highness, we will not take charity – even from you.”

Rhinure raised a questioning eyebrow, quelling the protest before it could really gather pace. “Then it is well that I have not offered you any. I have need of a Lady’s maid. You will do if you are interested in the position.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“But, my Lady, I do not know how to be a Princess’ maid.”

“Well enough since I do not know how to be a Princess. We will learn. The job is yours if you wish it, with one condition though.”

“What?”

“You will bring Aertaith to the Palace with you. I have a pair of pink shoes I wish to give away and want to see if they will fit her.”

“Your Highness, you are too generous. I could not …”

“I am not generous at all. I will make you work, make no mistake about that. As for the shoes, they will be my gift to Aertaith.”

“Yes … but …”

“Are you saying that I cannot give a gift to whom I choose?”

“No your Highness. I would not dare.”

“Then are you saying that my gift would not be welcome?”

“Oh no!” The woman’s eyes widened in horror. “I am not saying that.”

“As a member of the Royal Family I may give gifts to my subjects, may I not?”

The woman nodded, not wanting to contradict the Princess, especially when she looked like that.

“Then it is settled. I will expect you tomorrow.”

The woman blinked but could not protest further as Rhinure had walked away. She smiled, a little bewildered by the pace at which things moved here. She had been worried when they had left their village about how they would make their way until her husband recovered – after all, there was only so much one could expect one’s neighbours to do. But it seemed as if someone was looking after them after all.

“What are you smiling at?” her husband asked as he joined them.

“I got a job, and Aertaith … made a new friend.”

“I left you only for ten minutes.”

“Well, what can I say? Things happen quickly here.”

“I can see that. Did you meet the Princess?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And … the Prince is a lucky elf.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“That was kind of you.”

“I do not know what you mean. I had need of a maid.”

Thranduil smiled, “And the dozen odd candidates I showed you did not suit?”

“Obviously not.”

“Her daughter was cute.”

Rhinure turned on her husband. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Absolutely nothing. I was just making an observation.”

“Shall we continue?”

Legolas exchanged a knowing look with Thranduil. “By all means, hervess nin.”                        (My wife)

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Thranduil had never been as sure as he was now that he had chosen well. Watching Rhinure walking amongst his people, he could see why the Avari had picked this young elf to lead them. She would never be the bright light Legolas was, but she was a cool cloth placed on fevered forehead.

The children worked well together, he mused. Much like Eruante and he. Thranduil’s face clouded for a moment, before smoothing once again. Now was not the time.

“My King? Are you well?” Arandur stepped forward in concern.

“Yes, Captain. Well enough. How many people are left?”

“The village chief and his wife. The day is almost at an end. The chief waits for you.”

Thranduil gestured and Rhinure and Legolas took their leave from the group they were talking to, joining the King as he made his way to a small seating area where an elf couple was already waiting.

“My King.” The chief made to bow but Thranduil stopped him.

“There is no need to stand on formality, Rion. We have known each other too long.”

“Too long for you not to know that my fealty to you goes beyond formality, your Majesty.”

“Your loyalty and your scolding is noted. And how are you Ercasse”

“As well as can be expected, your Majesty.” The handsome woman next to Rion smiled and curtsied to the King, who then escorted her to her seat.

“I wish this meeting was taking place under more cordial circumstances.”

“As do we, my King. Unfortunately, Fate will do as she will.”

“Indeed.” Thranduil beckoned Rhinure forward. “Have you met the Princess?”

“I have not had the pleasure. Your Highness.” Rion bowed to Rhinure, who returned his greeting. “Your Avari were most helpful in the evacuation.”

“That is good to know.”

“But I must say, you Majesty, that I was surprised at the severity of your command. To abandon the villages and nearby settlements now, after winning such a victory over the Enemy was unexpected. We had not realised the raids to be so serious.”

Thranduil looked at Rhinure who had joined Legolas. “The raids are not serious. We have the numbers to meet their threat now.”

“Then … my Lord, I do not understand.”

“We are uncertain as to what and where this threat is coming from. The fall of Dol Guldur has lessened the attacks, but unlike before we do not know who is behind these raids.”

“You do not know or you cannot say for certain?”

Thranduil acknowledged the difference wryly. “I always have suspicions but I will not endanger any of my elves on the off-chance I am incorrect.”

“My King is most compassionate and wise.”

“And cautious. Given the information I do have, I felt it best to move the settlements. Best that we have as little distance as needed between Us and the Realm.”

“Then we are to be moved here?”

“For the moment only. Till I have better information you are all to be my guests.”

“While we appreciate your hospitality, my King, we have our own lives which we are already anxious to get back to. The Forest laments our departure as do we.”

“I too hear the trees Rion. Too well perhaps, but I believe this is for the best. I do not move you carelessly. I still hope that we will regain the land we have lost – all of it.”

Rion nodded. “As my King commands.”

“As I request.”

Rion smiled. “Let it not be said that Rion did not treat the Woodland’s Kings slightest desire as the most dire of commands.”

Thranduil laughed. “Come. Your elves tire. We should adjourn to the repast prepared for you.”

The five elves rose from their seats. Legolas stepped forward to have a word with Thranduil. “My Lord, if you have no further need for the Princess or I, then may we be excused?”

Thranduil thought for a moment before nodding.

“Thank you, Ada.”

“Newlyweds,” the chief said knowingly.

“Yes. As we were once.”

“I remember it well.” Rion said, caressing his wife’s hand ever so gently as they watched the departing couple before heading off for lunch.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Should we have left them?” Rhinure glanced back at the three older elves. “The King could have need of us yet.”

“I doubt it.” Legolas shrugged but did not slow his pace any. “Besides, he can summon us when he needs to.”

“How will he know were we are?”

“He will find us. He always does anyway.”

“Legolas!”

“Are you telling me that you do not find his all-too-convenient interruptions even a little bit frustrating?” When she remained silent, he added with a lecherous grin. “I know it has been some time but you cannot already have forgotten how we would just get comfortable before being interrupted?”

“If the King has need of us, it is our duty to go to him.”

“I know this … but you did not answer my question.”

Rhinure turned her head away from Legolas, not wanting to answer but not wanting to insult him either. “What I feel is irrelevant.”

“To whom? To you? Or to the King?” Legolas paused before adding, “They are certainly relevant to me.”

Rhinure’s head jerked up – this conversation was fast approaching taboo territory for her.

Perhaps sensing her silent panic, Legolas whispered, “I will not press, Rhinure – for now. Talk to me as you will.”

“Thank you.” Rhinure squeezed the arm she held on to. Wanting to explain, she added. “We do not speak of what is in our hearts often.”

“Why not?”

“It is private and not something to be displayed for all to gape at.”

“You already give so much to your people. Your duty, your obedience – even you very life. Why not this too? It is so little in the face of the rest.”

Rhinure stopped to give the question the consideration it deserved. But how to explain something which she had always taken as given? “It is not so simple.”

“It never is.”  Legolas smiled in encouragement, which seemed to work, for Rhinure returned the simile in rueful agreement.

“I think it is the very fact that I – and all Avari – give so much that we keep this back.”

“Go on.” Legolas prodded when Rhinure paused. She did not have to speak for him to know that this topic disturbed her, especially since they were out amongst the crowds. “Come.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To that bench under that tree yonder. We will be out of the sun and will have a measure of privacy from casual listeners.”

Rhinure arranged her skirts carefully as she sat, letting the silken material fan drape against her ankles in sheer feminine softness before looking up at Legolas. “It seems as if you understand my need for privacy more than you think.”

Legolas smiled, while waving off a merchant who thought to inquire if the Royal couple needed any food or drink. Legolas declined politely saying that they would eat later.

“Where will we be eating? The King will have already sat for lunch,” Rhinure asked as the merchant left.

“I am taking you to see a friend of mine.”

“Truly?” Rhinure asked, a little surprised at the pleased interest his intent provoked. As yet, she had been careful not to intrude by asking for an introduction to Legolas’ friends, but his willingly sharing this with her pleased her.

“I want them to meet you. And you them.”

“Them?”

“My friend and his wife.”

Rhinure nodded and smiled, causing Legolas to lose his train of thought. Oft late she smiled more when she was around him, as if it were now safe to let that Avari mask slide a little. He like that interpretation, he like her smile, only wishing its appearance was still not so rare.

“Legolas?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“I seem to have lost you.”

“Never, dear one. I was just contemplating how beautiful you are.”

“Hardly, it is only your prejudice which would see it so.”

“It is the truth.” With a distracted air, Legolas raised his hand to her mouth, lightly caressing the shy smile he found there.

“Legolas, you promised.” Rhinure moved back slightly to evade his hand.

Legolas frowned as the reminder snapped him back. “I do not like this version of our agreement.”

“This version …? We agreed to not be so physical in our interaction.”

“You asked me not to seduce you. But not to touch you at all is cruel, my lady.”

Rhinure bent forward to whisper, “You know how your touch affects me. It would be seduction and you know it.”

Legolas held still, aching to rest his head against hers but determined not to give her cause to be angry with him. He liked this new peace between them. “There is more than seduction in touch, Rhinure. Sometimes here is comfort as well. Would you deny yourself and me that?”

“It is not easy, my Lord.  I do appreciate that there can be a difference, but it is a subtle difference between us and oft changes. Is it not better to abstain and not confuse ourselves for the time being?”

“I suppose.” Legolas sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he would have deny himself for a while longer. If that was the price he had to pay to win her – for in the end that was what he was playing for – then he would bide his time.

A breeze blew a stray lock over Rhinure’s cheek and Legolas felt his fingers itch to curl themselves around the strand.

“My Lord? Are you well?” Rhinure asked in alarm as Legolas twisted herself away from her.

“Well enough, my Lady.” Legolas took a deep breath to control himself and turned back with a charming smile. “You were explaining something earlier. Perhaps we should complete that explanation before moving on.”

“Very well; yes, as you wish.” Rhinure searched Legolas’ face, disturbed by his weak smile. It faltered around the edges, as if it fought a losing battle with pain. She wanted to put her arms around and cradle him to her breast until his pain eased, she realised in alarm. To do so would not only make a mockery of the promise she and Legolas had just reaffirmed, but it would also humiliate Legolas by treating him as a child and exposing his emotions to all. It would be shameful, especially when he tried so valiantly to hide his emotions behind his courtly mask. Would it not?

“Rhinure?” Legolas placed a hand on her shoulder. “It seems as if now I have lost you.”

“What was it you said … never.”

Legolas gave her sweet smile in acknowledgement. “What were you thinking of?”

“Nothing important,” Rhinure shook her head, shrugging of her strange thoughts. “I was just contemplating whether certain subtleties are even worth considering.”

Legolas’ eyes twinkled. “Are you by any chance reconsidering our bargain?” He waggled his eyebrows lecherously causing Rhinure to giggle.

Rhinure clapped her hand over her mouth, shocked at her behaviour. “No.”

“Please, dear one.” Legolas looked at her with an adorable pouting expression, causing another giggle to escape Rhinure’s control. Legolas felt the sound tickle him like sparkling wine. He lent forward to whisper. “I was blind before not to notice how beautiful you were.”

Rhinure closed her eyes to ward off those words and that burnt honey voice. “Legolas,” she warned.

“No, do not stop me. I need to say this.”

Rhinure nodded, even though her heart sped up in fear.

“You are lovely – everything is about you is beautiful. The way you look in the moonlight, the way that stray wisp of hair caresses your soft cheek,” Legolas whispered bending towards her ear. “I wish it were my fingers caressing your face, not your hair – I wish it were my fingers lingering over those cheekbones, that jaw and especially those lips.” Legolas’ eyes followed his words and Rhinure felt as if his fingers had actually touched her.

“Legolas. Stop.” Rhinure turned her face away but his mouth followed her ear, whispering inexorably.

“But do you know what the most beautiful thing about you is?”

“No.”

“Do you want to know, dear heart?”

Rhinure shook her head in denial though she found herself saying yes.

“The way your smile lights up every corner of my heart.”

Rhinure shot up in panic. “Legolas, enough!”

Legolas got to up too, waving away the elf who came hurrying over to see what the Prince and Princess needed. “Did I say something remiss?”

“Legolas … please …” Rhinure pleaded, frightened at how easy it was for Legolas to seduce her without laying even one finger on her. What use was their pact if she was going to be so weak? What use her strength if it made her hurt and long to curl herself around Legolas and forget?

“Do my words offend you, my Lady?”

Rhinure shook her head, unsure if she meant it as a yes or no.

Legolas came to stand beside her as she took a step away from him. “Then why do you run from me?”

Rhinure looked to see the incomprehension on Legolas’ face. “It is not appropriate to speak of such things.”

“How can it be inappropriate to complement you?”

“You speak of your desires – you feelings and that is inappropriate. You should not share such things.”

“Why not? Are we not husband and wife? Why should we not be able to share something simple?”

Rhinure blinked – how could he think this all to be simple? She looked around her and realised where they were. “Legolas, this is not the time or place to discuss this.”

“No one will listen – it would not be proper. They too know when to give someone privacy.”

“Legolas, it is not something I am comfortable with.” Rhinure thought that this audacious admission would end this discussion for she was not brazen enough to speak of how she felt, and his forcing her do so, should have been warning enough. But he just smiled as if she were some errant child.

Rhinure’s eyebrows drew down. Had he already forgotten his promise not to push her? Why did he insist on pushing her so hard?

“I think I have done something wrong.”

“Whatever makes you think that, my Lord?”

“Your brow has furrowed. It makes me think that the broom is to be lowered on me.”

“The broom?” The image was so incongruous that Rhinure was distracted from her anger.

“I think the broom is lifting.”

“I think I do not understand.”

“It does not matter. That lovely forehead is clear once more.”  Legolas stroked the forehead, following the elegant arc of her brows.

Rhinure’s eyes met his and his hand stilled. “I think I forgot. Forgive me.”

Rhinure nodded and did not say anything when Legolas did not move his hand.

“Shall we make a move?”

“Yes.” Rhinure took Legolas’ hand into hers – only to stop him from touching her.

And the couple moved on and there were many who would swear that they were holding hands.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Is it much further?”

“So impatient, my Lady. We will reach there soon enough.”

“When.”

“In due course.”

Rhinure huffed, causing Legolas to grin. “If we walk much slower, the time for lunch will pass.”

“Are you hungry? We can get something from the market if you wish.”

“No. I thought we were going to eat with your friends.”

“We are.”

Rhinure looked up at her exasperating husband. “Well, will we not be late at this slow rate?”

“Do not worry. There is always food at Galarin’s house. Benefits of being the Palace’s Head Chef.”

“Head Chef?”

“Yes, which is why we are walking so slowly. The King and the elves will be served first before the Kitchen staff is dismissed. We have time before Galarin and his wife sit down to eat.”

“Oh … you could have told me that.”

“Why? Are you so eager to have company distract you?”

Rhinure did not rise to the bait, too much at peace to fight with her beautiful husband. She hugged his arm, rubbing it in appeasement. “No.”

Legolas subsided immediately, feeling alive and drugged at the same time. It was as if someone had dosed him with his father’s strongest whiskey. He felt like dancing and curling himself around Rhinure and not moving for a century or two. Such a simple thing, even if it was voluntarily given, to throw him into a spin.

On some level the affect she had on him as shocking – and dangerous – but Legolas firmly locked the though away. The Prince of Eryn Lasgalen could it examine it at leisure – later, much later – for now he wanted to savour this moment.

“Look, we are at the market.” Rhinure moved away to look at the milling elves.

“Yes, so we are.” Legolas wanted to pull her back but managed to restrain herself. He watched her for a minute before asking, “Do you want to go see the stalls, my Lady?”

“Could we? I mean, do we have the time? We have to be at your friend’s pace do we not?”

“Rhinure, do you want to go?”

“…. yes …. Please.”

Legolas offered Rhinure his arm. “As my Lady wishes.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure had seen the market from afar but never had the occasion to stroll around. She could not remember the last time she had the time to stroll amongst so many elves. Rhinure looked around in evident fascination.

There was such activity, such life – people buying and selling wares, calling out to friends, talking and even laughing. The only time she had seen such scale of activity before was usually prior to battle, but never had she heard such volume. So many voice, so many tones and pitches all melding together. With the appreciation instinctive of the quendi, Rhinure found herself charmed by the melody of so many elves together.

It was so different from Tirnen, she mused. Perhaps this was how the Quendi were before the Sundering. Perhaps this is how they would have looked in Ages now lost – happy.

Rhinure pulled her thoughts back from such dangerous speculation. In all this crowd she could not see a single Avari. Perhaps that too was apt; whatever they once were, now they were only Avari and Eldar. Wishing would not change it.

“Lady, are you well?”

Rhinure looked up at Legolas. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing in particular, you seemed distracted.” Rhinure must not have noticed that she had moved closer and tucked herself behind him, as if he were a shield against something. The curious looks there were receiving? Legolas shook his head, he was being paranoid – Rhinure was well, there was nothing wrong with her. He had just imagined the bruised look in her eyes, the urge for him to put his arms around her and hide her away from everything that would hurt her.

“Come.” Legolas took Rhinure’s hand.

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever the wind takes us.” Legolas tugged Rhinure long until she gave up protesting about the indignity and followed. Legolas weaved in and out of the crowd, smiling and nodding but not stopping at any of the stalls.

Rhinure looked at the stalls as they whizzed by, almost pausing at the cloth merchant, her eye caught by a brilliant flame-coloured silk, only to be pulled along by Legolas. “Legolas, can we not stop – just for a moment?”

“Yes, but I want to take you somewhere first.”

“Where?”

“Wait.”

Rhinure mentally sighed and wished the red silk goodbye. “Lead on, my Lord.”

“We are here,”

“And where is here?” Rhinure asked with a distracted air, noting that Legolas’ bow, though overdone, had caused the elleth manning the stall to blush deeply. And quite prettily too, the pink colour complementing the shy smile she was directing towards her husband.

“To what is my favourite stall in the entire market.”

“Even so, were are often deprived of your presence, your Highness while others are not,” the elleth piped up only to subside under the Sacrifice’s raise eyebrow.

“I have not seen you before, otherwise I would not have been so remiss.” Legolas leant against the stall, treating the girl to a blinding smile and completely robbing her of any capacity of speech.

Rhinure noted the by-play with something which obviously could not be irritation. “You are new here?” She addressed the girl, drawing both elves’ attention back to her and away from each other.

“Yes, ma’am. My nana … she could not come today.”

“Lucky for us,” Legolas interjected, wondering why Rhinure was making the poor child so nervous. He would just have to compensate by being extra nice to her – pretty little thing.

“Yes – lucky,” echoed Rhinure. “So, my Lord, what is so special about this stall?”

 Now what had he done? Legolas wondered at Rhinure’s snapped question. “This stall, my Lady, makes the best apples in the Realm. Is that not so?”

“Yes, your Highness! At least, we like to think to think so. You see, my Ada grows his own apples and my Nana has a special recipe for …” the girl trailed off as Rhinure’s arms folded across her chest.

“This stall makes apples?”

“Yes, your Highness. Sort of.”

“Let us have two of your special green ones so we can show the Princess what we mean.” Legolas winked causing the girl to audibly sigh as she went to the back of the stall.

“You should not do that.”

“What?”

“Wink at the child. It distracts her from her job.”

“It is a harmless enough distraction,” Legolas shrugged.

“Still, you should not do it.”

“Rhinure? Are you jealous?”

“Do not be absurd.”

“You are,” insisted Legolas, only belatedly recognising the flashing eyes and stiff gait for what they were – a lover’s possessiveness.

“Should I be?”

“Now it is you who is being absurd. She is but a child.”

“So if I did the same with a child it would be fine by you.”

The image of Rhinure smiling warmly at another man seared through Legolas. “Rhinure …”

“Are you jealous, my husband?” asked Rhinure, turning his question back towards him like a sharp dagger.

“Yes! Completely and insanely so.”

“Legolas …” The dagger had turned again and nicked her ever so slightly. Was he serious or was this another jest?

“Your smiles are mine alone, dear one. I would not wish to share them, I will not share them.”

“It is just a smile, Legolas.” Rhinure was shaken by the fervour in his voice, and secretly flattered. She liked his possessiveness, it made her feel as if she truly belonged with him – to him, though she was not shameless enough to admit it.

“Yours are never just a smile, darling. They are a glimpse of the woman who resides inside that armour and ice – enchanting glimpses.” Legolas stepped forward to whisper in her ear. “That woman is beautiful and tempting as sin.”

Rhinure’s eyes fell before his and she shifted nervously. Such brazen talk in public unnerved her. “Legolas, please. The people …”

“Could not care about what we are speaking of. They are too busy with their own lives. Look.”

 Rhinure peered at the crowd which milled about the market, each elf hurrying away or towards some stall or chatting with friends. They looked busy enough. “I guess.”

“But?”

“They still look at us.”

“A cursory glance or two cannot be avoided, darling. They cannot hear us.” Rhinure still looked unconvinced so he added, “Would you rather always stay indoors? It might not be a bad idea – you in my bed all day.” He placed his arm around Rhinure’s waist and drew her nearer, delighted when she did not resist. “We would definitely be private. Do you not like that solution?”

“My Lord, this is not the time or the place.” Rhinure finally remembered to protest, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from pulling her closer, though she did not free herself.

“But do you like the solution?”

“Yes.” Rhinure looked up at her husband and he took a sharp breath in painful want.

“Dear one. Please – put me out of my misery.”

“My Lord, we had decided we were not going to … you know.”

Legolas laughed, this time causing head to turn in the couple’s directions . They saw a two youthful elves engrossed in each other. Ah, young love. The elves smiled and left the couple in relative privacy.

“So shy, my Princess? You have never been so with me before.”

“Perhaps I have never let you see it before,” she whispered, in the grip of some recklessness because she could not stop her words.

“Dare I hope? Is this progress?” Legolas asked, caressing her back lightly.

“I do not know.” Rhinure rested her head on his chest, just for a moment. “But some things cannot hidden from you all the time.”

“And others?” Legolas tightened his hold on her, head on hers, taking comfort from her proximity.

Rhinure was thankfully saved from having to make an answer by the arrival of the elleth carrying two apples. The older elves sprang apart, strangely feeling like they had been caught doing something wrong.

“Thank you, child. Now how much do I owe you?”

“No, no, my Lord. I could not take anything from you.” The elleth shook her head and place her hands behind her back.

“I insist, my Lady. Would you argue with your Prince?”

“No, of course not, your Highness. But …”

“Then accept these gold pieces in payment.”

“My Prince! They are too much.”

Legolas placed the gold in the girl’s hand and closed her fingers over them, leading Rhinure away before the elleth could argue.

“That was good of you.” Rhinure glanced behind at the young girl, still staring in their direction. She looked like Rhinure felt – dazed, but happy.

Legolas led her away from the market towards a scheduled bench. “Sit.”

“Are we not getting late?”

“We have time. Now, come sit by me and eat. Are you not hungry?”

“Yes, but …”

Legolas sighed, “Why is that every female in my life always argues with me?”

“Every female?” Rhinure crossed her arms. “Exactly how many females do you have in your life?”

“Let me think.”

“Legolas … I warn you …

“At this point, there is only you who comes to mind.”

Rhinure opened her mouth to deliver a blistering retort, only to have Legolas stuff a candied apple in her mouth. Her eyes widened at the sweet taste.

“Bite it. It will not bite back I promise.” Legolas tapped her chin and she carefully took a small bite. “It is good?”

Rhinure nodded and took another bite, savouring the tartness of the apple against the sugar.

“You have juice on the side of your mouth,” Legolas indicated. “Here, let me. You missed a little.” Legolas traced the sweet drop off her mouth, sucking it deliberately off his finger. “Delicious.”

Rhinure blushed and ducked her head to avoid his intent gaze. “You are not eating.”

Legolas smiled at the quiver in her voice. “No I am not. Do you want it?”

“No. Should we not press on? I am sure we must be late by now.” Rhinure stood and, after a sigh, Legolas stood too.

“Did you say something, my Lord?”

“Nothing of import. Come, it is not far.”

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“You are late.”

“That I am.”

“The food is getting cold.”

“Then reheat it my good man.”

“As my lord Prince commands. Though if he tarries any longer, Malyian will serve the food from across the room – she still has a good arm and even better aim.”

“I take it she is not in a good mood.”

“The baby kept her up all night and she spent most of the morning preparing for your arrival. She is most determined to make the perfect dinner for the Princess.”

“And what of me?”

“What of you? You will eat anything I make.”

“In that case, Galarin, may I introduce my wife, the Princess Rhinure.”

“Your Highness.” Galarin sketched a deep bow to the silent lady by Legolas’ side.

“You have never bowed to me.”

“You are not as beautiful as your wife.” Galarin stepped forward to offer Rhinure his arm but then hesitated, afraid that the casual banter between her husband and he would prove offensive to her.

Rhinure’s sharp eyes notice the slight movement; before Galarin could feel any more awkward she took the two steps forward to reach him, all the while wondering why everyone in Eryn Lasgalen felt in necessary to lead her hither and thither. “I believe you said something about us keeping your wife waiting and letting the food cool.”

“Ah … my Lady, I did not mean to imply any fault. The food is warm and awaits you. And my wife …”

“Will continue to wait in vain unless we make a move on.” Legolas came to poor Galarin’s rescue and took Rhinure’s other arm.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“That was a lovely meal, thank you.” Rhinure addressed Malyian, who flushed in pleasure.

“Yes, you really outdid yourself this time,” Legolas added

“Thank you, your Highnesses. But it is Galarin who deserves the praise. I just added the finishing touches, the work was his.”

“Without the finishing touches the work is worthless. As I am without you.”

Malyian blushed at her husband’s gallantry and busied herself in clearing the dishes to avoid that roguish smile.

“Here, let me help.” Rhinure rose to gather the plates at her side, uncomfortable with sitting idle in the midst of such banter.

“Oh no!” Malyian’s shocked exclamation stilled Rhinure’s hand. “You are our guest, your Highness. I could not let you clear the dishes.”

“Are you certain? It would be no bother and is something I am used to.”

“Please your Highness, I could not ask you to clear the table.”

“Well, that is settled.” Legolas lent back, crossing his arms behind his head.

“Who said you could rest?” Galarin swatted the Prince while he helped his wife with the dishes.

“Do you want a couple of broken dishes to add to my track record? After this meal I could not move even if I tried.”

“And you do not have to. You too are our honoured guest, my Lord.” Malyian smiled and shushed her husband who made to protest.

“They are good friends to you,” Rhinure observed as the couple went into the kitchen.

“The best kind.” Legolas smiled in their wake, remembering how much he enjoyed spending time with Galarin.

Rhinure kept silent observing the contented expression on her husband’s face. The minutes lengthened but Legolas obviously felt not need to fill them with conversation, giving Rhinure the time to look around the room. A small sound suddenly distracted her from her contemplation.

“Where are you off to, Rhinure?”

“I though I heard something. Excuse me, my Lord.”

“Rhinure? What ….?” Legolas blinked in confusion as his wife left the room in a hurry, closely followed by Malyian, who seemed as distracted, if not more. “Malyian, is something wrong?”

“No, nothing, my Lord,” Malyian called out to Legolas. “The baby was just grousing. Poor thing felt a little ignored I think.” Malyian stepped back into the room, carrying in little Mírie, followed by Rhinure.

“I did not hear anything.”

“Do not worry, my friend, it is a female thing. They can hear any baby movement for over hundred yards.” Galarin added wryly, stepping nest to Legolas while drying his hands on a towel.

“But, Rhinure heard her too.”

“Well, hir nin, she is a female.”

“I guess.” To Legolas’ shock, his unbending wife was now making soft cooing noises at the baby, who was madly waving her arms at all the attention.

“May I hold her?” Rhinure whispered.

“Of course, your Highness.” Malyian smiled at the young Princess, recognising the primordial maternal instinct that coloured Rhinure’s question.

Rhinure took the baby carefully from Malyian’s arms settling her against her hip. Thankfully, Mírie was too fascinated by the new visitor to complain. “Are you not the most pretty baby in the world? So sweet and perfect.” Rhinure tickled Mírie causing her to giggle and grab Rhinure’s fingers. “And strong too.”

“Well, my friend. You might not have to wait for long after all.” Galarin nudged Legolas.

“For what?” Legolas swatted at the Chef, concentrating on the sight in front of him. Who would have thought that Rhinure has such a soft, silly side to her?

Rhinure lifted the baby in her arms, causing Mírie to squeal in delight and clutch at Rhinure’s hair for support. Rhinure winced but gently cradled the baby to her, making nonsense sounds while untangling her hair from the tenacious grasp.

“It seems as if your Lady likes babies after all.”

“What?” Legolas turned to his friend, frowning.

“Your Lady. She obviously is fond of children and therefore, would probably like her own.”

Rhinure’s children – their children. The thought hit Legolas with the force of a killing blow. He blinked, seeing a gold-haired elfling in her arms, their little daughter. His child.

“Legolas.” Galarin placed a careful hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “Are you well?”

Legolas shook his head to clear it and impossible dreams but all he could see was Rhinure smiling down at the baby in her arms. He walked over to her in a daze.

Rhinure looked up at his, her smile emblazoned on her face, causing Legolas’ heart to kick widely in his chest. “Is she not beautiful?”

“The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Legolas covered Rhinure’s fingers caressing Mírie cheeks, with his own.

At the touch, Rhinure jerked, the contact burning her; but not as much as Legolas’ heated gaze hid. The blue eyes glittered, hurting Rhinure with heir message and promise. A promise that one day she too would be swollen with his child. Rhinure could feel her body ache for that child, responding the ache in Legolas.

“Should I take Mírie, my Lady?” Malyian broke the tableau between the two elves, forcing Rhinure’s attention back to the baby, who was now almost jumping out of Rhinure’s arms to get back to her mother.

“Yes, of course.” Rhinure turned away from Legolas to hand the baby back, still feeling the heat rising from him and feeling embarrassed that the other couple had witnessed their loss of control. “We should be leaving. It is getting late.”

“Can you not stay any longer, your Highness? Mírie would love for you to stay and play with her.”

“No! I mean, we have some issues to take care of at the Palace,” Rhinure hastened to explain, softening her abrupt refusal, which was prompted by a tightening of Legolas’ hand on her arm. “It was a lovely afternoon though. Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all ours, your Highness. We hope to have you over again soon.”

“We would like that. Farewell for now.”

“Farewell.”

Legolas and Rhinure exited the house leaving behind a bemused Galarin and Malyian behind. “The Prince did not say goodbye.”

“I think he was a little distracted.”

“How can you tell?”

“It is a male thing, my dear. I know how he feels right now.”

“How?”

“Like an egg thrown in boiling water.”

Malyian giggled. “You are being absurd.”

Galarin smiled down at his wife. “Perhaps.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Where is the Prince, First Guard?”

“In his quarters, my Lady.” As Rhinure made to enter, Herenion called out stopping her. “My Lady, he is not in the best of moods at the moment.”

“And therefore?’

“Therefore, maybe, you should not go in right now.”

“Thank you for your advice, First Guard, but I must see my husband right now.” And without another word, Rhinure swept into Legolas’ chambers. She could not explain the urgency to see him but it was undeniable. He had avoided her since they had returned from lunch and even Rhinure could tell something was wrong. Never had Legolas run away from anything but he was running now. And she meant to find our why.

The rooms were dark with the curtain pulled over the windows but Rhinure’s eyes were drawn towards a long chair near the bed where Legolas sat slumped.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“Must be a pleasant change. Usually it is I who is looking – or should I say chasing?”

“Do you find it as easy as I do?” returned Rhinure not rising to the sarcasm in Legolas’ voice. When he did not respond, Rhinure sat down on the bed near him, convinced now that something was terribly wrong but not sure how to broach the subject without crossing her boundaries.

“Do you wish to have children, Rhinure?” The abrupt question broke the uneasy stillness in the room.

“Legolas … I … why the question?”

“Answer it if you please.”

Rhinure took a deep breath and wondered if she could prevaricate.

“And answer truthfully.”

Rhinure smiled; it seemed as if Legolas knew what he was doing to her – but, it did not matter. She could match the baldness of the question with honestly. “Yes, I do … at some stage. Does not every quendi?”

“My children?”

“Whose else would they be?”

“That is not an answer.”

“It was for the silly question you asked.”

Legolas shot forward from his chair, grabbing Rhinure’s wrist before she could blink. “When you dream of children, when you dream of holding them in your arms, are they mine or just children? Do they have my eyes, my features, any part of me?”

“The girl we will have your hair.”

Legolas made a choked sound and turned his back on Rhinure, inexplicably hurt by the answer.

“The girl will have your hair – sun-kissed,” Rhinure repeated to her husband’s back. Though he did not say anything, she felt as if she had struck him. He was hurting, she could feel it in her bones but she did not how to make it stop. She stepped forward to touch him but hesitated. Should she do this? Would this not break their pact when only this morning she had insisted on it being followed? Would the urge to enfold Legolas in her arms and rock him as she wished to do to their children, make her a hypocrite?

Legolas did not move, though he could feel Rhinure standing behind him. Her words had robbed him of the composure he had been trying to muster since he had left Galarin’s house. Seeing Rhinure with the baby had reawakened the dreams which he had buried so successfully, convinced that it was the right thing to do. But knowing that Rhinure wanted the same, made the dream all the more real, if not any more right.

Rhinure hesitated for a moment longer, taking in the stiff back and desperate knuckles hanging on to the back of the chair. Pact be damned, she would do what she must.

Warm arms crept around his waist, shocking Legolas out of his melancholy. Palms came to rest on his chest as Rhinure moved forward, resting her head on his back, listening to him breath, soothing him with her nearness. Slowly the tension left his body and his hands came to cover hers, holding her to him even though she mode no move to leave.

“On the other hand, the boys …”

“Boys?”

“Yes, we will have two, did you not know this?” Rhinure swallowed as tears threatened to make her voice choke. “We will have two boys, one will be the eldest and the other the youngest, so our little girl will have someone to bully and someone to watch out for her. They will look like me, dark-haired and with stubborn chins.”

“Beautiful.”

“You are just prejudiced.”

“I think the word you are looking for is discerning.”

“Hush, let me finish. The boys will look like me, except they will have your eyes. Brilliant blue eyes for our brilliant boys.”

“Oh, Rhinure.” Legolas turned to gather her tightly in his arms. “They are beautiful, your children.”

“Our children,” Rhinure corrected, stroking Legolas’ back.

“It is a nice dream.”

Rhinure raised her head to look at her husband’s face. So handsome but so sad. “It will come true, husband. Some day.”

“When, dear one? When this minute passes and I cannot touch you any longer, or when we are back at each others throats?”

“Our not being together is only temporary,” Rhinure pointed out, avoiding the latter part of Legolas’ question.

“And only a temporary solution to a bigger problem.”

“Perhaps not, perhaps it will be a solution, period.” Rhinure cradled Legolas’ face in her palms. “We will get there, my Lord, my husband. I know it.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“I do not know, but I am.” At least, right now I am, Rhinure admitted to herself ruefully. In the peace of this moment, everything seemed possible, even their reconciliation.

“Thank you for lying to me.”

“You are welcome.”

Legolas smiled and gathered her closer, burying his face in her hair. His hands caressed her back in absent-minded rhythm, taking and giving comfort. But as the minutes passed, the caress changed.

“Legolas, I think I should leave now.”

“Hmmm.” The rhythm now turned wicked, engrossed Legolas.

“Legolas!”

“That is not fair, my Lady. You touched me first.”

“That was different.”

“So you do appreciate the difference between one touch and another.”

“Yes yes.”

“So I was correct?”

“You are impossible.”

“But we are now back to my version of our pact are we not?”

“Your version?” Rhinure looked up, a little confused.

“I need to be able to have you near, to be able to touch you, dear one. As do you.”

Rhinure nodded, causing Legolas to grin. “Why do I think this was a mistake?”

“Never, my Lady. I would not betray your trust. I do know the difference between comfort and seduction.”

“And what were you doing just now?”

“Hoping that you did not.”

Rhinure burst out laughing, not being able to hold on to her anger against the relief that the dark cloud had finally left Legolas.

Legolas stepped forward and Rhinure’s laughter immediately stopped at his ardent look. “I think you should leave now, my Lady.”

“Yes, there is much to do for our trip to Gondor.”

“Yes, much to be done. We leave two days hence.”

“So, I should leave then.”

Legolas nodded though his eyes said something different. Rhinure fled, not trusting herself to linger in the room any longer.

“We will get there, my Lady. Even though I know not where “there” will be, we will make it,” Legolas vowed as he looked around the empty room and sighed.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Chapter 12 – What’s Love Got to do with it?

"What's Love Got To Do With It" – Tina Turner

It’s physical

Only logical

You must try to ignore

That it means more than that

What's love but a second hand emotion?

… Who needs a heart,

When a heart can be broken?

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The early morning sky lightened to grey, preparing for Anor’s arrival. Legolas took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. He folded his hands and contemplated the drawn curtains. It seemed as if Rhinure was still asleep. Legolas was not surprised given how late she had returned to her room; he had been listening for her ever since he retired, but he was disappointed.

He had hoped. Legolas signed again, this time, in self deprecation. He had hoped and once again it has led to heart ache. When he would learn? What had he expected? That Rhinure, too, would be awake, unable to sleep away from him? That she too would feel the same restlessness as he and think to submerge it in activity?

But he had been so certain. When he had awoken it was as if an itch had lodged under his skin, forcing him to get out of bed and see her. And now, he was standing outside her room listening for some sound of movement, like an adolescent fool outside his wife’s chambers, a green youth hoping for a glimpse of the Wood’s fairest maid. Ah well, if he was to be a fool, he might as well wait no longer.

Rhinure turned from her vanity in surprise when Legolas entered the room, brush poised in the air.

“You are awake.”

“As are you, my Lord. Could you not sleep?”

“No. What of you?”

“I could not either. I was a little restless so I thought I would get an early start to the day. There is much to do before we leave.”

“Indeed.” Legolas grimaced as Rhinure turned back to the mirror. “You seem unsurprised to see me.”

“Do I?”

“In fact I would go so far to say that you are uninterested in my being here at all.”

Rhinure put down the brush for it trembled, but just a little, and turned back to him. “Then you must excuse my behaviour, my Lord. I am not used to having you in my chambers. Since you come here so infrequently, I know not how to bid you welcome.”

Legolas was tempted to make a few suggestions but refrained as he was certain they would not be welcome. Nonetheless, his eyes wandered to the appropriately sized Queen bed.

“Legolas!”

“I did not say anything, my Lady.”

Rhinure folded her arms, tapping a slender finger on her arm.

“I was only wondering when last I was in your room for more than a few moments.”

Rhinure started, realising that Legolas had spoken true; their moments together in these chambers had always been cursory, except for one brief memorable night.

“Nothing to say, my Lady, in your defence?”

“What need have I for a defence? It is you after all who insists on keeping me in your bed. What is it, my Lord? Are you afraid that you would be at a disadvantage in mine?”

“Ah, my Lady. How could it be I at a disadvantage when that invitation is never tendered? No matter how I try, I forever await you at your threshold, hervess nín.”

Rhinure glanced back at Legolas, feeling the bite in those words even though the tone stayed playful. “Then I have been remiss indeed, my Lord. Welcome.” Rhinure rose from the vanity again to greet Legolas, clasping his hands in welcome though her grip was tighter than strictly polite.

Legolas stroked his thumbs over her knuckles, taking her words as permission to look over her chambers with frank curiosity, which would have offended his prickly wife in any other circumstance. So bare her walls, so empty her shelves. Where were her mementos, the little knick-knacks which proclaimed this her home?

“Something displeases you, my Lord?”

“Did you bring nothing from Tirnen, Rhinure?” Legolas asked, glancing over her shoulder to see perhaps if her vanity held any secrets. In the pale morning light, only her karha glimmered amongst the bare surface.

Rhinure glanced back as well, understanding the frown on Legolas’ face. “I did not have much to bring with me, my Lord.”

“Nothing, my Lady? No trinkets, no baubles, even from your mother?” It was the wrong question to ask, Legolas realised as soon as he had asked it, for Rhinure’s face shuttered immediately, locking him out as effectively as a barred gate. “My Lady, I did not mean to pry.”

Rhinure calmed herself and answered that careful apology. “Worry not, my Lord. It was not the question that displeased me.” Before Legolas could ask further questions Rhinure distracted him by adding, “Though they are not much, I brought some things with me.”

“What things are they?”

“A few clothes, a couple of pieces of jewellery and this.” Rhinure held up the brush she had been using, the ivory handle yellowed with age.

“May I?”

“Of course, my Lord.” Rhinure placed the brush in her husband’s hand.

Legolas turned over the brush, noting the delicate filigree work on the back and the slight chip near one end which has been carefully repaired.

“It was my naneth’s, given to her by her Bonded on their wedding.”

Legolas smiled, “It is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Rhinure stretched her hand out. “May I have it back, my Lord? I need to finish getting dressed; there is much to do today and I would like to get an early start.”

Legolas looked at Rhinure, at the unbound hair falling across her shoulders. “Here, let me.”

“No! My Lord …” Rhinure made to stop Legolas as he got down on his knees. “You need not bother …”

“I wish to, my Lady.” Legolas ran reverent fingers though the heavy scented locks, relishing the feel of them on his fingers. “Let me.”

Rhinure’s protest died in her throat as her eyes met his. She nodded and turned back to her mirror, leaning forward slightly so that her face was hidden in the shadows of her hair. With the gentlest of touches, Legolas gathered Rhinure’s hair and started brushing it. His fingers ghosted across her cheeks as he lifted a few wayward locks back from her face. As he plaited her hair into its customary neat braid, he dropped a quick kiss on her neck, causing Rhinure to spin around.

“There, all done.” Legolas overrode Rhinure. “No need to thank me, my Lady. It was my pleasure.”

Rhinure’s eyes narrowed as she thought about calling Legolas on the kiss, but then thought better.

Legolas swallowed as a serious looking Rhinure bent forward, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“My thanks for all your help, my Lord.”

Her breath teased Legolas’ face, causing him to veil his eyes before she had even more reason to remonstrate against him.

“Since I cannot return the favour …”

Legolas shuddered as Rhinure ran her fingers over his warrior braids, brushing her fingers over his sensitive ear tips.

“Let me instead offer this as payment.”

Legolas opened his eyes just in time to see Rhinure’s mouth brush against his. Before he could even savour the feel of her lips, the slight pressure was gone. “That was not fair.”

“Any why not, my husband?”

Legolas rose. “What happened to our pact, my Lady?”

“Were you not the one to point out its subtleties? Besides,” Rhinure threw one last arch look at Legolas, “are you truly complaining?”

Legolas groaned in defeat as Rhinure swept out of the room. He brushed his lips, which still tingled, brief though the kiss had been. He pressed his lips, hoping to capture the kiss for just a little longer. When her taste had faded too quickly from his mouth, he left the now empty room.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Your Highness, you must stay still if we are to correct the fall of this train,” the dressmaker admonished.

Rhinure stilled and turned an impassive face to the woman. “I fail to see why the train must be so long that I cannot see its end from the corner of my eye.”

“Your Highness,” the dressmaker sighed, “you are a Princess now and your clothes must befit your stature.”

“It is impractical. As are half the clothes choking this room, which you would have me take on the journey to Gondor.” Rhinure pointed towards the pile she had just gone through. It had taken the better part of the morning to get through them all, making her thankful that she had started the day so early. “Why do I need three dresses for one day, let alone peignoirs, lounging robes, bathrobes, night-robes, and robes that I have no name for?” Rhinure bent and picked up a sheer robe made of a warm cream colour and trimmed with a sapphire blue satin. Such a frivolous little garment. Instead of preparing for her departure and speaking to her Company, she was stuck playing dress-up.

“That, my Lady, was made on the Prince’s request.” The dressmaker took the offending garment from the Princess and laid it carefully with the rest of the lingerie.

“Why would Prince Legolas interest himself in these matters?”

“I believe that this, as the rest,” the dressmaker pointed to the pile she had just placed the robe on, “are meant for his private viewing only.”

Rhinure’s eyes widened in comprehension and then narrowed at the site of the blush on the other woman’s cheeks. Too many people seemed to take an interest in Legolas and her, especially about private matters such as these.

“I wish to end this fitting now. I have other urgent matters to deal with.”

“Your Highness, there are still many clothes that need to be completed. You cannot leave now.”

“You have completed more than enough dresses for my trip to Gondor. The rest can wait.”

“But … your Highness! Think of the impression you must make. Think of …”

“I think enough. Fear not, I know what impression needs to be made. Besides I am confident that you will choose the best of these clothes to aid me, knowing that I cannot overburden the horses.”

“You are leaving it to me?”

“And why not when you have displayed such care and good taste already?”

The dressmaker beamed and nodded, “I will not fail you, your Highness. I know how best to bring out the colour against your fair skin and dark hair. Not the materials I would usually use but I have found you look best in rich jewel tones. Though, once in a while, a romantic, soft outfit cannot go amiss if done with some subtlety that I am famous for…” The dressmaker’s needle flew across the cloth as she chattered on.

Rhinure closed her eyes and began her count to hundred again, wondering how much longer this would take.

“Sleeping on the job already, your Highness?”

Rhinure started at the question, causing the elf kneeling at her feet to clear her throat in displeasure and tug at Rhinure’s train to keep her still.

“Your Majesty, I did not hear you enter.”

“Your Highness! Please … the dress …”

Rhinure turned to the woman and asked again, “How much longer will this take?”

“Your Highness, pray keep still. I have only a few more stitches left before the final alterations.”

“Keep still, child. I would not have you wounded by an errant needle.” Thranduil chuckled. “Or ruin this lovely dress. You have outdone yourself, Mistress. Our deepest thanks for making Our daughter bloom so.”

The dressmaker preened at the King’s praise and placed the tucks and nips quickly to impress his Royal Majesty. Rhinure rolled her mental eyes, wondering anew at the silliness of females around the Royal Family’s men.

“There, all done.”

“Let me see. Step down, my Lady.” Thranduil helped Rhinure down from the stool, pivoting her gently so that he could see the fall of the train. “Charming.”

“Do you truly think so?” Rhinure turned towards the polished mirror, looking at the deep blue dress which shimmered with silver lights.

Thranduil smiled at the eagerness in the young leader. “I know someone who will definitely agree with me.”

Legolas placed a finger on his mouth to shush his talkative father as he watched his wife twist and turn in front of the mirror.

“Who? Oh … greetings, my Lord.”

“Greetings again, my Lady. We meet again this beautiful morn, made all the more lovely by your lovely presence.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes behind Legolas’ back, appalled at the awful flattery, causing Rhinure’s eyes to twinkle with an all too obvious amusement.

“Adar, I bid you not to ruin my compliments,” Legolas sighed theatrically, following Rhinure’s gaze.

“You do not need my help to ruin the compliment. It was bad enough to begin with. However, I will leave you both now. While she does not need to be told how beautiful she looks, you need all the practice you can get.” Thranduil bowed to Rhinure and the dressmaker and left the room.

“Are you done, Mistress?”

“Almost, your Highness. I am still not pleased with the fall of the dress in the front. It is pulling a little and one has to be so careful to get everything …” The dressmaker trailed off when she realized Legolas was just nodding along but not listening, so engrossed was he in looking at the Princess. And blessed be, she was finally holding still! The dressmaker placed the final hooks, fixing the skirts and sighed in satisfaction. The Princess would shine like a moonlit night in this dress and prove that the Woodland elves were no less than any – immortal or Second Born. “All done.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you. May I have a moment with the Princess?”

The woman nodded, making haste out of the room, hoping that the Prince would not ruin the dress. It was such a delicate material and he seemed in such a hurry after all.

Legolas looked at Rhinure, unsure of what to say now that they were alone, only knowing that she looked absolutely delicious in that dress. But then, to him, she looked so irrespective of what she wore.

“Do you like the dress, husband?” Rhinure smoothed down the already smooth silk as the silence stretched thin. Did his silence mean he did not like it? “It is costing you a pretty penny I am sure.”

“Money never so well spent.” Legolas responded automatically, the glib response bred into him. “Adar was correct. You looked charming.”

“My Lord, I expected better.”

“From the dress?”

“From you. Where is your fabled charm and wit?”

“Are you seeking compliments, my Lady? I would have not expected it of you.”

“Why always do what is expected?”

“Well, then, I must say you look ...”

“Lovely,” both elves finished simultaneously.

“We are now thinking alike too, my Lady. Will such miracles continue too?” 

“Aberrations such as these should not be given so much importance, my Lord.” Rhinure tossed over her shoulder as she turned away from Legolas.

Legolas grinned, loving this coquettish side of Rhinure. “And what must we do to make this the norm, hervess nín?”

“Perhaps we can start with an explanation to better understand how each thinks.”

“I can agree with that. What would you like explained?”

“This.”

Legolas blinked, looking down at the garment in Rhinure’s arms. “It is a dress …” Legolas trailed off as he realized which garment in question it was; the cream coloured sleeping robe he had ordered on impulse wanting to see how Rhinure looked against the warm colour. If he closed his eyes he could see her in the robe, leaning over him unbound hair creating a fragrant alcove for them both.

“Legolas?”

He shook his head to clear it, “I was just thinking, my Lady.”

“About what?”

“About fantasies and impulses to make them come true. I hope you will look as lovely in this robe as I know you can be.”

“Is this your fantasy, Legolas? Is this how you would like to see me, dressed up for your pleasure?”

Legolas wondered if she was offended. He did not think so; he could feel her smile behind that impassive mask – but, it could not hurt to apologise if he was wrong. “My Lady, I did not mean to overstep any boundaries. This was, as I said, just an impulse.”

Rhinure shook her head. “I was not offended, just surprised.”

“At?”

“At how gentle your fantasies can be, how soft. This robe is as ... tender as the moonlit night when we first became as one.”

“So you understand?”

“I accept it with thanks, my Lord. However ...”

Legolas swallowed at the glint in Rhinure’s eyes. She walked towards him, causing his eyes to rivet at the sway of her hips. She stopped in front of him, holding the robe up between them, a silent promise and, perhaps, an acceptance.

“However?” Legolas prodded.

One side of Rhinure’s mouth turned up and she wondered at the strange mood gripping her. 

Legolas grinned, seeming to catch this strange temper from her. He looked so carefree at the moment that Rhinure wondered if this was what he looked like before her advent in his life. Rhinure traced his smiling mouth in wonderment; if only she could keep it always this way.

Legolas caught her hand and brought it to his cheek, stroking it gently. “My Lady?”

Rhinure cleared her head of such silly thoughts. “However, I was just thinking of how much more suitable Avari dress is, even in this.”

Legolas’ eyebrows rose in unvoiced scepticism.

“You do not believe me?”

“Let us just say that you and I oft have different ideas of suitability.”

Rhinure leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “I promise, my Lord. You will approve of these.” Legolas shivered, actually shivered, Rhinure noted in triumph. “Till later, my Lord.”

And once again, Legolas was left alone in the room, aching.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“What, again, my Lord? I almost believe that you are following me?”

Legolas bowed over his wife’s hand. “I had just come to see if you needed an escort to dinner. I saw Ehtewen and Istion head towards the Hall without you.”

“Yes, I send them ahead.” Rhinure took the offered arm.  “I thought they could use some private time since we head out in the morning.”

“This is a surprise, my Lady. I do not think I have ever seen you without at least one of them trailing behind.”

“That is not true, my Lord. They are not hounds to tail behind me every waking moment. There have been many a time when I have been alone.”

“Now that you mention it, I must admit the truth of your words. It seems as if the hounds are faithful no more.”

Rhinure’s eyebrows lifted. “Or perhaps I do not see the need for such constant vigilance.”

Legolas stopped short and looked down at her

“It is not as if I need a bodyguard with me in the Palace. After all, what could happen to me here? Amongst all these quendi?”

“Nothing, my Lady.” Legolas pulled her a little closer. “And, as long as I am breathing, nothing ever will.” Both elves stared at the other, knowing with mutual certainty that those words were no jest.

Herenion coughed to draw the couple’s attention back to the land of the hungry.

Rhinure looked at the older elf and the back at her husband. “I see your faithful shadow is ever by your side.”

“Yes, no matter how I try to have it otherwise,” Legolas quipped, aware that Rhinure had not returned the vow he just made. How much power had he just handed her? Though, not speaking those words would not have made them any less true.

“I think we should head towards the Hall.”

“As my Lady commands.”  

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“That was an exceptional meal, your Majesty.”

“Yes, the cooks have outdone themselves even beyond what I thought was possible.  It was a worthy send-off meal indeed.”

“I know we will miss the food on our travels and, I am certain, even at Gondor.”

The servers preened at the Royal Family’s words, storing them to report back to the kitchens. They made all the hard work worthwhile.

“Your Majesty, may I be excused? There are a couple of last minute things I need to take care of before our departure.”

“Of course, sell nín. The meal is winding down as it is.”

Rhinure bowed her head in thanks. Before leaving she stopped at Legolas’ chair to whisper. “Could you join me, my Lord?” Legolas twisted in the chair to look at Rhinure. “Consider it, my making up for being remiss.”

“My Lady?”

“Was it not you that pointed out that I had never invited you to my rooms?”

Legolas almost choked on the wine he had unwisely sipped. He glanced at Thranduil to see if he had heard that naughty whisper but the King seemed busy in conversation with the serving boy. He looked back at Rhinure, who was standing patiently, waiting for his answer.

“My Lady ...”

Rhinure bent forward again, lowering her voice even further. “Do not worry so, my Lord. I only seek your advice.” Seeing Legolas’ obvious disappointment she added, “But I think you will like the recompense.” Rhinure curtsied to the King again. “Do not make me wait long, Legolas.”

Rhinure was barely out of the room when Legolas turned to the King. Thranduil cut him off with a wave of an impatient hand. “Yes, yes, you too may leave.”

“Ada?”

“Do you not have things to take care of tonight as well?”

“Yes, but ...”

“Then why do you waste time?” Legolas rose and bowed to the dining elves and the King. “And, Legolas ...”

“Yes, your Majesty?” Legolas stepped forward the King’s command.

“Do not keep the Princess up too late. You leave early in the morning after all.”

Legolas left the Hall with the King’s throaty chuckle in his ears and a vivid blush on his cheeks.  

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Come in, my Lord. It is most unbecoming to loiter.” Rhinure threw over her shoulder when Legolas remained in the doorway. “You cannot be that uncertain of your welcome.”

Legolas shook his head and the paralysis gripping him. “That is not the uncertainty that plagues me.”

“What then?”

“I do not want to trespass and cause offense.”

Legolas was serious, even Rhinure could see that. With suspiciously shaky steps, Rhinure walked over and took his hands in hers. “Welcome, Legolas.” She took him towards the bed where he could see a small pile of garments strewn over the coverlet.

“If you are looking for assistance in packing I would strongly suggest that you call for a maid, my Lady. Not only am I abysmal at such tasks but I would undoubtedly ruin such delicate garments.” Legolas bent down to pick up one of the dresses only to trail off when he realised it was not one of the garments Rhinure had made at the Palace. This was a heavy black silk, almost free of any embellishments except for deep red work on the collar. In fact, it was almost masculine in cut.

“Rhinure, this ...?”

“Is for you, my Lord.” Rhinure finished, putting the rest of the garment in his hands. “I know this might not be to your tastes, and you do not have to wear it, but I thought as my Bonded you should have it.” Rhinure tucked a strand of hair back and continued, “I know I should have given it you on our wedding day but I did not finish in time. And then I was not certain if it would be appropriate...”

Legolas placed a finger on the babbling lips. “Was this meant to be a wedding gift?”

“Yes, it is our custom for the bride to present the wedding outfit to the groom and ...” Rhinure hesitated.

“Vice versa?”

“Yes.”

“I am sorry.”

“I do not want you to apologise. It is my custom, not yours.”

“One that I wish to share.”

“You are, by accepting this now. It does not matter if you did not wear this at the wedding.”

“Thank you.”

“But?”

“I would have liked to present you with an outfit too.”

“You did. Have you forgotten already?” Rhinure smiled, knowing it would distract Legolas.

“I did, did I not?”

“Yes, it was I who was remiss, not you.”

“You do not need to apologise.”

“I am not apologising ...”

“For apologising for things you cannot change is futile,” Legolas finished.

“Close enough.”

Legolas smiled. “Thank you for the gift, I will wear it with a glad heart.”

“You do not have to if you do not wish to. There is no obligation...”

“Rhinure.”

“Yes?”

“Hush.” This time Legolas shut the lips with a brief kiss, leaving Rhinure blinking in adorable confusion. “And before you complain, let me tell you that a kiss is a perfectly acceptable way of giving thanks.”

“I hope you do not thank others in such a manner.”

“Not since I met you, dear one.”

Rhinure nodded, satisfied by the answer and ignoring the endearment.

“Rhinure? May I ask a question?”

“Yes.”

“What would have the Avari wedding looked like?”

“You are looking at it?”

“I meant for you.”

Rhinure cocked her head. “Would you like to see?”

“But ... I thought ...”

“I meant, would you like to see something similar? You asked me today if I brought anything from Tirnen, which reminded me of some of the clothes I brought. I thought to maybe take a couple to Gondor. I wanted to ask your opinion as to whether you thought it would be appropriate.”

Legolas nodded in approval.

“So ... would you like to see?”

“How you would look if you were home? Yes, without hesitation.”

Rhinure picked up a discrete bundle from near the pillow and headed towards the changing screen. “Would you care to take a seat, my Lord?”

“Thank you, my Lady. I would love to.” And, just because he could, Legolas swept Rhinure a full court bow causing her to shake her head at his silliness.

Legolas seated himself on the bed. The Valar only knew when he would get another chance to be in Rhinure’s bed. He caressed the pillow she rested her head on and wondered at the secrets she must whisper to it. Did she ever murmur his name in her sleep for she missed having him near? As much as he did?

“My Lord?”

Legolas snatched back the errant hand before Rhinure could say anything. He looked up to explain but the words died in his throat, Rhinure’s appearance robbing him of all coherence. She looked stunning in her Avari finery. The deep red skirts brushed the floor and Legolas could just make out sandaled feet. Delicate gold anklets tinkled as she walked closer.

“It is so I shall always have music with me.”

“What?” muttered Legolas, still staring.

“The anklets. You were looking at them. We wear them to always have music with us.”

Legolas smiled, “How quendi of you. In some things you and I are not so different.”

“I supposed not.” Rhinure stopped near the bed. “So, what do you think?”

Legolas looked again, this time noting the short shirt she wore which clinched her waist like a second skin. A long, embroidered veil covered her head, over her forehead just a little.

“If I were a bride, I would come to you with my face veiled so.” Rhinure pulled forward the covering so that it now shaded her entire face.

“Why?”

“So that only you would see my face until I became your bride. So that my first glimpse would be of you, my husband.”

“May I?” Legolas fingers trembled as he lifted back the veil. “Beautiful.”

“Greetings, husband.” Rhinure cupped Legolas’ face and kissed him.

Legolas groaned and swept her closer. His hands trailed up her back, causing the veil to slip off. Rhinure allowed his clever fingers to caress her back and nape but stepped back when they started to open the ties holding the back closed.

“Rhinure!” Legolas protested in frustrated anger.

“You promised.”

“As did you. And I did not kiss you this time.”

Rhinure bit her lip. Legolas spoke true but the moment had felt so right that she had been unable to stop herself. “I know.”

“Rhinure.” Legolas stood to take her back in his arms. Rhinure waited for the anger she knew would follow. What she had done had been wrong no matter how it felt. Once more, feeling had led her astray. Legolas would be well within his right to demand restitution.

Legolas watched the downcast head almost, but not quite, resting on his chest. It was such a pathetic sight that his heart squeezed in protest. He lifted his hand and felt her stiffen. And, just like that, Legolas went down in defeat. He was no more capable of reproaching her than he was of refusing her. The raised hand brought that stubborn, lovely head in contact with his chest and soothed it as if Rhinure were a child.

“You ... you are not angry?”

“Not any longer.”

“Why?

“Because, my love, you are you.”

With a wounded cry, Rhinure pulled back from him, horror etched on her face.

“Rhinure, what is wrong? What have I done now?”

“Do not call me that!”

“What? ... My love? What is wrong with that?”

“Do not presume to take more than I am able to give. I will not allow it.”

“Presume? Rhinure, it was an endearment only. Why are you overreacting?”

Rhinure took a deep breath and calmed herself. It was only an endearment, a worthless word. It meant nothing. Legolas did not love her and she did not love him. It was nothing to panic about. Calm, she would be calm.

“Unless you know it is something you will refuse to accept.” Legolas mused in the face of her silence and laboured breathing. “That is the truth is it not?” Legolas stepped forward to clutch at her. “You refuse to love me or let me love you.”

“You said it was only an endearment.”

“Yes, but if it were the truth you would refuse to accept it.” Legolas shook her. “Is that the truth? Is it?”

Rhinure clutched his forearms to steady herself. “Yes it is.”

Legolas let her go as if burnt, wondering why he hurt. It was just a silly little nothing, a slip of his wayward tongue. Was it not? “Why will you not love me?”

“Legolas, please.”

“Why?”

Without thinking Rhinure enfolded her wounded husband in her arms, protecting him from herself.

“Why can you not love me, Rhinure?”

Rhinure shook her head. “You do not understand.”

“Am I so unworthy?”

Rhinure cut off those untrue works with her mouth, giving Legolas what solace she could. She soothed the pain in him with her lips, winding her body around his to absorb the hurt where it belonged, deep within her. “I cannot my husband. It is I at fault, not you,” she said between kisses, not breaking physical contact, taking and giving strength from the bond that existed between them.

Legolas protested but pulled her even closer. Rhinure led him towards to the bed and he followed. He accepted it when she laid him back and climbed beside him. He closed his eyes when cool fingers caressed his face, giving himself over to her.

Rhinure scooted closer, placing her face next to his, sharing his breath until it calmed.  Her hands moved to his back, up and down and then back up.

After a few moments, Legolas opened his eyes. “You cannot love me.”

“I cannot love.”

“Why?”

“Legolas, it is shameful to speak of these matters.”

“Shameful?” Legolas rolled over Rhinure, caging her under his body. “Do you feel me, Rhinure? My body pressing into yours, making it mine? Do you?”

Rhinure nodded.

“Then why this talk of shame between us? There can be no shame between those who are but one broken into two.”  

*~ But we are not one. ~* Rhinure swallowed the thought and turned her head so that Legolas could not see it in her face.

But in vain, for he knew what she was thinking. And, as suddenly as he had trapped her, she was free. Legolas sat up, and ran angry, shaking fingers through his hair.

“Wait.” Rhinure scrambled forward putting her arms around his back.

“Why?”

“Because I am asking you to.” Rhinure whispered into his ear. Before he could respond she slipped her fingers under his shirt, caressing his bare flesh, causing him to shudder. “Stay.” Rhinure removed his shirt, kissing his back, working up to his ear.

Legolas’ muscles shook with the effort it took to keep him still. “What of your promise now?”

“I never promised not to seduce you.” Wicked fingers loosened his hair, causing it to fall across his back. Rhinure buried her face in the golden mass, breathing in Legolas’ special scent.

“And what of your promise to build something better with me.”

“I still wish to. This is ...”

“This is what? A way of making me forget?”

“This is a way of giving you what I can, offering you something dear to me.” Rhinure turned Legolas’ head so that he was looking at her. “Do not refuse me.” And she kissed him.

Legolas groaned and followed his wife down on to the bed, letting her win; knowing that to leave her now would break him more surely than staying with her.  

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Late into the night, after both elves had exhausted themselves, Rhinure stirred from Legolas’ arms. “It is late, I should go.”

Legolas smiled, trailing lazy fingers on her bare arm. “Where will you go?”

“To ...”

“Your bed? The one we are in now?”

Rhinure bit her lip, “Could you ...”

“Leave?” Legolas raised himself up, shadows returning to his previously content eyes. “Only if you answer a question.”

Rhinure looked back at her husband, immediately on her guard.

“Why?” Legolas’ smile was a little hard around the edges, causing Rhinure to turn away. “Oh no, my Lady. As pleasant as this interlude was, I have not forgotten what led us here. I have not forgotten, despite your best efforts.”

“That was not why I invited you to my bed!” Rhinure stood, wrapping the bed sheet around her in angry jerks. “I told you so.”

Legolas leaned back on the pillows, folding his arms behind his head and enjoyed the view of an irate Rhinure with her eyes flashing and long hair swirling around her like a dancing halo. A cruel smiled played on his lips, making her clench her fists in anger. Anger that she deserved to feel. Anger that he hoped would burn her as much as her refusal razed him.

“I was trying to remind us of what was beautiful between us.”

Legolas sat forward, eyes flashing.

“Obviously that means nothing to you.” Rhinure swallowed,” Obviously this was just a passing distraction, an ‘interlude’, meaning less toy you than ... than a good meal.”

Legolas gripped a flying wrist. “Rhinure.”

Rhinure tried to pry his fingers open while holding up the bed sheet at the same time.

“Careful, my Lady.” Legolas helpfully tucked the sheet more firmly in place. “You would not want to end up back in bed again. After all, it is late.”

Rhinure looked at him and then tugged at her hand again. “Let me go.”

Legolas shook his head.

“I am tired.”

“Sorry.”

“I have nothing more to say to you.”

Legolas pulled Rhinure back into his arms. “I, though, have things I want to say to you.” Legolas kissed her, holding her head in place until her mouth softened and allowed him full access. “Now, explain.”

“Explain what?”

“Do not belittle what I ask by pleading ignorance now, Rhinure.”

“Stop kissing me.”

“Ttch, my Lady. You cannot tell me to back off now. Not after tonight.”

“Tonight was different.”

“Special.”

“Yes.”

“Then give me what I want.”

 Rhinure swallowed, “I cannot.”

Legolas hissed in pain. “Then, at the very least, explain why.”

How to explain the unexplainable? The very thought of love froze her – the greatest taboo that she still upheld and Legolas wanted her to talk of it as it were a conversation over afternoon tea. “This is difficult for me.”

“For myself as well, but I need to hear this. I need to know if you will flinch from me in fear every time I mention love.  You are doing it again. Stop it; I want my Rhinure back, not this frozen woman masquerading as my warrior wife.”

“Then stop talking of it.”

“Why are you so afraid of the word?” Legolas mused.

“I am not afraid. I just do not believe in the word – it is meaningless.” Rhinure turned her head, breaking eye contract for she knew he had reached further into her mind and soul than he had ever before.

“You are lying. I know it. You deny it in an attempt to avoid its very real existence.”

“Oh, it exists, my Lord. But I do not believe in it. Love is a weed which chokes everything, which demands everything and returns nothing. It is an obligation without boundaries and so I deny it.” Rhinure broke away from Legolas’ arms and walked away from the bed, feeling a little cold now. She wondered if, perhaps, she had a left a window open.

“You, who puts so much credence in duty, denies love for it is another demand? Do you take me for a fool, Rhinure?” Legolas followed her into the middle of the room, turning her back to face him when he noticed her distraction.

Rhinure shook off his hands and stepped back, hugging herself against the chill. “It is a demand without limits, without control.  Thus, I reject it. It is an emotion, the strongest one there is and therefore too dangerous to ever be let out. I know you do not understand because you are reckless with all your feelings, and therefore cannot appreciate the danger. If you gave this control to another – if you love someone, you will be left with nothing. You will become empty.”

“That is rubbish.”

“That is the truth.”

“As you see it.”

“How else would I see it? All truth is dependent on one’s own perspective.”

“This is not perspective, this is a twisting and tainting of what is true.”

Rhinure shrugged. “As you wish. I was just trying to explain something I have always accepted as an unalterable constant in my life.”

“Ah, my Lady. You do not know what you are denying yourself. Loving someone, sharing emotions as you call it, is the pinnacle of life’s pleasures,” Legolas knew he should not be surprised by how bleak Rhinure’s life was but he was shocked nonetheless.

“And ephemeral like all pleasure,” Rhinure shot back.

“But for some pleasures, one moment is more than enough. For one moment of true, shared love, I would gladly suffer a life time of torment,” Legolas whispered, defeated by the wall she had put up between them.

Rhinure jerked forward, covering Legolas mouth with her fingers, appalled at the danger he courted. “You do not know what you are asking for. Do not tempt fate so.”

“It was more of plea.”

“Unwise elf.” Rhinure stepped forward, ending the chase by letting him catch her again.

“Unwise and foolish, I know.” Legolas sat on a chair. “Rhinure,” Legolas paused, settling her comfortably in his lap and wrapping his arms around her before continuing, “Why this aversion to feeling? I know you are not without some emotion after all.”

“I have no aversion to feeling.”

“Did you just not deny love?”

“Love is the most pernicious of feelings. It brings nothing good to those caught by its false promise. Thus, and only thus, do I deny it. That does not mean I deny all emotions. In moderation, and with great circumspection, some emotions may be indulged in.”

“But not shared?”

“Emotions are never shared. They are private.”

Legolas sighed, “I do not understand you. You have given me everything, your Duty, your life, even your death. How can you not give me this then?”

“For Duty, while paramount, cannot be the sum of a life. Something must be kept back, something just for yourself.” Rhinure forced the words out, struggling to articulate something she had never bothered to even think about let alone speak of. She looked up at Legolas willing him to understand. She was not being malicious, but this was the way things must be. This was the core of her very being and to change it would destroy her. If she could, she would give him whatever he wanted, but she could not – she dare not.

“What do you keep back for yourself then, Rhinure?”

“This, my heart. That is mine. What I feel, what I desire, that is the only freedom left to me, the only part of me that remains unpledged. On this little part of me remains unencumbered. And so shall it remain.”

With that declaration there was nothing left to say. What could you say to someone who was so desperately trying to retain a small measure of identity, just a little piece which she could call her own? Could Legolas try to take even that from her when he had taken everything else?

“Goodnight my lady. I will see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, my Bonded. Thank you.”

“As I said, some pleasures are worth waiting for.”  

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Morning came all too soon and the Eleven company was ready to leave for Gondor, escorting their Prince and Princess. Legolas walked down the palace steps with his father, giving the King last minute instructions.

“I understand ion nín. I have done this before without your input.”

Legolas smiled and shook his head. “I am sorry, Adar. I did not mean to imply that you could not.” Thranduil chuckled, prompting by a sheepish grin from Legolas. Finally, he straightened, “May I take leave of you, your Majesty?”

“You are dismissed, your Highness. Return safely, knowing that We have things in hand in your absence.”

Legolas bowed and turned towards the waiting company. Rhinure stood by her horse, patiently waiting for him to finish his goodbyes, black cloak wrapped around her.

“Do you need a leg up, my Lady?”

“No, thank you, my Lord.” Rhinure squeezed the outstretched hand.

Legolas squeezed back, running a thumb over her knuckles briefly. “As you wish. Company, mount up!” Legolas swung onto his horse and nodded to the two waiting Lieutenants, Avari and Silvan, to lead them out.  

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Deep in the forest a troubled elf sat alone in the cold morning light, not noticing that his candle had gone out in the slight breeze. Frowning, Turgwaith looked at the table, wondering what he should do next. Without the Sacrifice and the Guards, would there be any point in holding a Council meeting?

“I came as soon as I was able. What was so important that you had to call me back from patrol?” Cothion swept into the room, removing his cloak and brushing off the rain that had collected on it.

In answer, Turgwaith moved away from the table, letting Cothion clearly see the object on the tabletop. The Heir and Commander of the Avari paled and fell silent.

Turgwaith pushed the shattered remains together, forming what appeared to be an old Elven blade.

“The Lost Ones are lost no longer.”  

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Author’s Note: Happy holidays and a great new year to everyone.

And yes, I was channelling Tina Turner when I wrote this. I love the song.  And thanks to Nieriel Raina for beta reading the chapter.