AN: This series of stories will trace the lives of Thranduil and Legolas from the beginning of the Third Age to their departures to Valinor, exploring major and minor canon events along the way: ex. Thranduil's marriage (it's canon--he was Legolas's father, right?), his move to the stronghold in the north, the birth of Legolas, the appearance of the Balrog in Moria, through to the events in The Hobbit and the Battle Under the Trees and the War of the Ring. Some parts may be more interesting to readers than others. It is entirely written and I will post a few chapters every day until it is up. Most of the parts can be read as separate stories (and they will be thusly posted) but references will be made between them.

The first 'chapter' that follows this note is just a prologue that will not be entirely understood until you get to the very last chapter. The action of New Journeys begins in the following section labeled 'Presence of the Shadow.' New Journeys is in itself rather long. The first few chapters 'set up' some characters and events that will be important as the story progresses. If they don't seem to entirely make sense now, be patient--they will later. For those of you that are followers of Anti Evil!Thranduil--never fear. I very much am part of that camp as well. On with the story.

************

Chapter One: From the Shores of Valinor

127 of the Fourth Age in Valinor

Legolas sat on the dock looking east and watching the sunrise.

Legolas knew that watching the sunrise was something his father made a habit of in Middle Earth. He wondered if he still did that in Valinor but normally never awoke early enough to notice. Sometimes the elvenprince enjoyed the lack of responsibility that he had in Valinor—no forest to defend, no diplomatic missions, no trade disputes, no supply problems, no realm to rule. On the other hand, even after five years he still felt adrift here. He found himself on the dock this morning looking across the sea towards Middle Earth and back in time.

The sun was fully over the horizon when Legolas felt someone sit next to him on the dock. He smiled. Elves or not, there was only one person in Valinor that could approach him unawares.

“Good morning, Adar,” he said with a little more melancholy in his voice than he intended.

Thranduil frowned slightly. “Do you still miss it, ion nin?”

Legolas raised his eyebrows. “Do you not, Adar? You do not miss Eryn Lasgalen?”

Thranduil laughed lightly. “I still miss Doriath, ion nin. Of course, I miss Eryn Lasgalen.” Thranduil reached for his son’s left hand and looked at the mithril ring on his index finger, reading the runes engraved on it amongst the leaf pattern—Aran o Eryn Galen.

Legolas smiled sadly. “Take it, Adar. I never wanted it.”

“It belongs to you, ion nin.”

They sat quietly.

“More than I miss the wood, I miss the people,” Legolas said softly.

In Legolas’s eyes, Thranduil could almost see the faces of the mortals lost to Legolas forever and the elves that still chose to stay in Mandos’ Halls, so intense were the memories he was reliving that moment in his mind.

“I know, guren,” Thranduil replied putting a strong father’s arm around his son’s shoulders. All the times his father comforted him in this way began to flash through his mind. “I remember talking to you when you were still an elfling about the hurts that arise from becoming too attached to mortals,” Thranduil continued and felt his son tense.

“I know, Adar. I am no longer an elfling. I do not need the lecture again,” he bristled.

“Then I will not lecture you,” Thranduil replied calmly.

Legolas laughed inwardly. There had been a time when he would have been in serious trouble for taking that tone with his father. “I think Valinor has had a very positive affect on you, Adar,” he said with some amusement in his voice.

Thranduil smiled. “It has ion nin. Do you know why?”

Legolas looked at his father, smiling knowingly in return. “Of course I do, Adar.”

“Well, I will tell you anyway because I am not sure if you truly know the most important reason why. The most positive affect Valinor has had on me is that it has finally brought you and I together. Since you were born, that is what I have wanted more than anything else.”

Legolas’s brow knitted together at that. “Adar, except when we were separated by the sea, we have always been together. We were the only family we had. We were always very close.”

Thranduil closed his eyes. “We may have been close but we were never together. Either I was working or you were fighting somewhere. I think I spent your entire childhood working and your entire adulthood waiting for you to come back to the stronghold from battle and praying you would not be too badly wounded when you did. I love Valinor because I have you right here.” The arm tightened reflexively around Legolas’s shoulders.

The younger elf smiled. “I agree with you there, Adar.”

“Ada!” yelled a high pitched voice.

Legolas turned with some alarm and opened his arms in time to catch a four year old elfing from flying off the end of the dock into the ocean after she launched herself at him. He drew her into his lap, arms firmly about her waist and tried to speak sternly to her despite the tug he already felt at his lips while looking at her flushed face. She must have run all the way from the house. “What are you doing here, iell nin? You are not allowed by the sea alone. We have discussed this a hundred times.”

“And I have told you to take me when you go. I could not find you this morning. You are never where I expect you to be. I missed you,” the elfling replied, pouting at her father. 

Legolas drew her against his chest. “I seem to have a problem with that,” he joked, looking at his father who was stifling a laugh.

“I always wanted a daughter, ion nin, but seeing how she rules you, perhaps I should be glad I only had one son.”

“Indeed, “ Legolas replied dryly, trying to turn his thoughts from his past across the sea to the present in his arms.

Thranduil smiled at his granddaughter and she squirmed happily from her father’s lap to his. This elicited a laugh from Thranduil as Legolas frowned at his daughter’s easy defection. “She looks just like her mother, Legolas.”

Legolas simply nodded to that, turning his eyes back to Middle Earth.

*******************

Adar/Ada--Father/Dad
ion nin--my son
iell nin--my daughter
Aran o Eryn Galen--King of Greenwood
guren--my heart

Chapter 2: Presence of the Shadow

Third Age

King Thranduil sat in a flet at the edge of the forest, aware that he was frustrating several of his subjects. This flet was set in the tallest tree in the capital near the top of its crown, built simply for the pleasure of enjoying the view it provided. Every morning he watched the sun rise from it. Tonight was watching the stars and trying to find peace.

It had been a yén since his father’s death. On this night, one yén ago, Thranduil had stood next to his father in battle and he felt the arrow that pierced his father’s chest as if it had pierced his own. A ghost of that pain haunted him tonight. A ghost of that pain had haunted him every day for the last yén and Thranduil suspected that one event would mold his life for ages to come. Tonight, he took to this tree for solace. To try to escape it.

For seven years after he watched his father die, Thranduil had fought the enemy in the siege of Barad-dur. When he returned from Mordor with the rest of the elven host, he knew theirs had been an empty victory. No victory at all. Barad-dur had not been destroyed and because of that, Thranduil doubted Sauron was wholly defeated. His father and so many of their people had fallen in vain and he had been left to rule their kingdom, a task he had never wanted given that ruling this kingdom implied he no longer shared it with Oropher. 

For three millennia before that war, Thranduil had helped his father manage Greenwood and he thought he knew it well. Since Oropher’s death, he realized exactly how poorly he knew it. The vastness of it sometimes came close to overwhelming him. Greenwood the Great was the largest forest in Middle Earth--over four hundred miles long and two hundred miles across. Under the ancient trees south of the Emyn Duir, dwelt scattered villagers, all with a wide variety of assets and needs. Now they looked to their new king to see how he would handle very trying times.

Forces outside Greenwood the Great looked to Thranduil as well. Whereas Oropher left Lindon to abandon the political quagmire of Noldorin lords and Sindarin exiles to seek better life in the beauty of the forest, Thranduil found himself in a vastly different political arena. The Noldorin High King, Gil-galad, fell in the war against the Evil One. To Thranduil’s surprise, Elrond rejected his right to claim the title of High King and remained in Imladris as its lord. Lindon was now ruled by Cirdan, a Telari and Thranduil’s distant kin—a vast improvement over Gil-galad from Thranduil’s point of view. Lothlorien’s King Amdir also died in Mordor. Thranduil’s nearest neighbor was now ruled by Amroth, Amdir’s son. Not a great change, for Thranduil knew Amroth well personally. But politically speaking, Amroth did not even know himself as a king, so Thranduil knew him not at all. In this new age, these young leaders eyed each other cautiously and hopefully. Since Oropher had rejected foreign influences in his realm, Thranduil had little knowledge of managing foreign relations. The majority of his experience came from the war against Sauron and those were bitter lessons indeed.

Shaking his head, Thranduil tried to turn his thoughts from past tragedy and current burdens to focus on the stars. He laughed bitterly when he heard his guard at the foot of the tree turning others away from it. The guards knew their king wanted privacy. And Thranduil knew why these elves wanted into this flet. In addition to being an excellent vantage point from which to watch sunrises and stars, it was a favorite place to tryst in the evenings. He was ruining the plans of many an elf by lingering so long in this tree tonight.

Too bad. He needed solace too. And there were precious few ways the king could find that.

Staring at the constellation Menelvalgor and the Ever-star, Borgil, Thranduil lost himself listening to the twilight songs of the tree and the sound of his own steady breathing.

When he registered the sound of another’s breath, he spun around alarmed. How could someone get into the flet, much less approach him so closely and at unawares? He relaxed slightly when he saw it was an elleth.

He recognized her as one of the ellyth that had moved into the capital after the war had ended. Many such families had done so, seeking the feeling of security Thranduil was aware they gathered from his presence. This elleth he had noticed before. Many times he had crossed her path as he walked to dinner or meetings and she sat on the benches in the courtyard. She always stood as he passed and curtsied politely. He remembered her because she was so different in appearance from the other Silvan elves in the capital. She had raven black hair--so black it almost shone blue with the glint of the moon light.

He looked at her, still with wide eyes. “However did you get up here, my lady? The guards should have instructed you that I was here.”

She smiled at him. “I knew you were here, my lord,” she whispered in a melodious voice. “But I did not speak to your guards. I climbed over from another tree. I knew your guards would not let me come up, but I wanted to come despite that.”

Thranduil blinked at that. Naturally suspicious after all the events he had been forced to endure, he tensed. “That could be taken as a threat, my lady.”

Her smiled broadened and her eyes scanned his body in a way that left no doubt in his mind that the only thing that would be endangered tonight would be his virtue.

Thranduil blinked again, trying to shake the off-balance feeling her scrutiny imposed on him. “My lady,” he said coolly. “I came up here to be alone. That is why there is a guard.”

Thranduil did not want company and certainly not female company. He did not know this elleth and even if he had, youthful exuberance and light dalliances with females were three millennia behind him.  He had long ago learned that, in his station, he could ill afford to misuse maidens’ affections in such a way.

He frowned slightly when his words did not seem to give the maiden before him the least pause.

“My lord, this is a secluded spot…no one will see us,” she cooed as she stepped closer to him. “Only spend a moment with me. You would enjoy it, I assure you. Take your mind off what troubles you.” She had come to stand fully in front of him now, sliding her hand up the front of his tunic to his chest, where he still felt the stab of the arrow that claimed his father’s life. 

He stared at her. For many millennia he had been prince of Eryn Galen. Untouchable and unapproachable save by invitation. Now he was king, an even lonelier post he was discovering. This elleth’s boldness caught him completely unprepared. He looked down at her, stunned to immobility as if stung by one of the spiders he had occasionally seen in the southern forest near Amon Lanc.

“And I would certainly enjoy it," she whispered as her other hand slid up his arm firmly to the nape of his neck. "You are the most attractive elf I have ever laid eyes on.”

His breath caught in his throat as her fingers tangled in his hair. She was now whispering to him the things she found attractive about him as she pulled his lips down to hers. 

With a feral growl, millennia of hardship and self denial were rewarded as he closed the last distance between them and claimed her lips in a bruising kiss. It would never have occurred to Thranduil to kiss an elleth in this fashion, much less one whose name he barely knew. Something about this elleth awoke in him a fire—a dark fire.

She definitely was not offended by the brutality of the kiss. On the contrary, she matched it, pulling his upper lip into her mouth as she drew him flush against her with her hands about his waist. Pressed against her, he growled again and his hands, until now unoccupied, found employment tangling first in her hair and then traveling aggressively down her slender body to her waist to finally stop at the small of her back.

There Thranduil’s own actions already began to shock him back to his senses. This had already gone well beyond the limits of respectable behavior. He had never raked his hands across an elleth’s body in such a way nor kissed one so wantonly. He was about to push her away when she tiptoed and leaned against him more fully, pinning his back against the trunk of the tree. As she stood on her toes, Thranduil’s hands, frozen in the tenseness of his stance, slid to the swell of her bottom. He tore his lips from hers and sucked in a breath. Ignoring his reaction, or perhaps responding to it, her tongue traveled to his ears, tracing over the sensitive tip. She took one of his hands in hers and moved it just under her breast; with the other hand on his hip, she pulled him closer.

He tensed and pulled fully away from her.

For a moment, they stared at one another--her face filled with lust, his with utter shock.

“Eru, forgive me. I lost myself in the shadow,” he whispered, still staring at her. His thoughts had been dark when this elleth appeared in the flet. That might explain his actions. But as he studied her, he wondered if the shadow was not much closer to him than the ghost of the one from Dagorlad.

Finally he dropped his gaze, his faced flushed with a heat that he hoped his guards would not see once he descended from the flet—it was shame and she mistook it for desire. Thranduil bowed slightly to the elleth before him, who still regarded him lustfully.

“And you, my lady, I beg your forgiveness as well. I am not myself tonight. That is why I sought comfort in the trees. I pray you can pardon my disgraceful behavior.”

She smiled at him. The smile he had seen when he first noticed her in the flet, but somehow now it seemed different. Wicked. Beguiling. Dark. As dark as she was. “There is nothing to forgive, my lord. I wanted this as you did. I was more than willing.”

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to tell her he had wanted no such thing. Normally a very direct person, something stopped him from speaking. It would be cruel to say such a thing after using her so badly. Best to remain silent, he decided.

“Excuse me, my lady,” he whispered and moved past her to the rope ladder. He quickly descended from the flet. Without acknowledging his guards, he marched to the flets that housed the royal household, praying to avoid his mother.

****

yén--an elven measurement of time, 144 solar years. Elves like to measure in twelves.

Emyn Duir--Dark Mountains (the Elvish name of the Mountains of Mirkwood when the forest was still called Greenwood)

elleth--female elf
Ernil--prince

Chapter 3: First Meetings

The One Yén Anniversary of the end of the War of the Last Alliance

Lothlorien

Walking back to her flet past the archery range, Lindomiel heard the distinct sound of arrows sinking into a target in rapid succession. Elves practiced archery with enthusiasm, so this would not have been surprising except for the fact that it was well after dark. From the path she could see the flickering of torch light on the range.

‘Who would be practicing at dark,’ she laughed to herself, detouring over to the range to have a look.

There she saw one of the elves with the delegation from Greenwood. She did not know that for certain—she had not been introduced to any of those folk yet—but she assumed that was the case since she did not recognize this elf. She watched him a moment. He was slaughtering the poor target at the opposite end of the range. Firing arrows as fast as he could nock and draw his bow, he had embedded at least fifty arrows into the center portion of the target. The target itself would be completely ruined.

Despite the fact that he was a complete storm cloud at the moment, Lindomiel found herself admiring his practiced and graceful movements, impressed that the formal robes he was still wearing—Lindomiel assumed he must have come directly from some type of diplomatic meeting—did not impede his skill. Shaking her head, she decided to see if she could help improve his mood, for the archery practice did not seem to be helping and she doubted the poor target would last much longer before it disintegrated entirely. To that end, she walked up quietly behind him.

“I think you killed it, my lord,” she said softly into his ear.

Clearly caught off guard, he whirled around, eyes wide, to face her. His swift movement startled her and she stepped back involuntarily, but even in her alarm, she noticed the elf’s eyes. They held unchecked fury at the moment, flashing with a warrior’s cold aggression, but they were a beautiful bright green like leaves in spring.

As swiftly as the elf had turned, he froze and relaxed his posture, lowering his bow and holding up one hand, palm out in a pacifying gesture. “I beg your pardon, my lady. I did not mean to startle you, but I did not hear you approach. I was not expecting…”

She laughed, interrupting his apology. “Its quite alright, my lord. I should know better than to sneak up behind angry elves with their bow drawn.”

“Am I angry, my lady?” asked the elf, now amused.

“Surely you do not abuse the target that badly under normal conditions, my lord?”

The elf looked back at the target in response to her question and laughed, as if really looking at it for the first time. “Oh dear. I think I might owe Amroth a new target,” he chuckled mostly to himself.

“Indeed,” Lindomiel agreed, eyes still bright with mirth. “What ever has vexed you so, my lord? I hope you have not found the hospitality here wanting. If so, I am certain I can help you rectify that situation.”

He smiled at her. “No, my lady. I simply found the negotiations…frustrating. I thought I would vent a little tension.”

“So you are with the delegation from Eryn Galen. I suspected as much. We had all heard these would be easily formed treaties. I hope that will still be the case, my lord.”

The elf frowned now. “Nothing is going to be easy with that stubborn…” he visibly cut himself off in deference to the elleth with him. “Forgive me again, my lady. I do not wish to speak badly of any of your folk. There is one…whose personality seems to clash with mine. That is all. But it will not stand in the way of these treaties. They are very important to both our realms.” The elf seemed relieved that the lady with him was amused and not insulted by his comments.

“You must be referring to Lord Amglaur, King Amroth’s uncle,” she said with a knowing expression. The elf remained silent and that told her all she needed to know. “He is well known for his temper,” she added, hoping to draw him out.

The elf let out a long breath. “Well, I fear I am well known for mine in Eryn Galen. So that may be a source of difficulty. One of us is going to have to be in better control than we were today.”

“Well then, my lord, it might as well be you because I can assure you that it will not be Lord Amglaur. Come. Let us retrieve your arrows and I will take you to see the most beautiful sight in all of Lorien. Then when you have to face Lord Amglaur, you can think of it and find peace. It works for me when I must deal with him.”

She walked towards the target, aware of the elf’s laughter, and began pulling out the arrows carefully.

‘You have already shown me the most beautiful sight in Lorien,’ he thought to himself as he watched her slender form extracting the arrows. She was obviously young, he noted while studying her as surreptitiously as he could. ‘Far too young and sweet for me. But a distraction might be nice,’ he thought. 

The arrows back in their quiver, he found himself being led down one of the paths in Lorien. They made polite conversation and she pointed out interesting features of the city while they walked. He had been here many times and was very familiar with the sights, but she told amusing little stories associated with them as they walked and he soon found himself thoroughly engrossed in her company. Finally, they came into an area that opened up to a large pond, fed by a stream cascading into it over a short fall of rocks. The area was lit with lanterns at night so the water sparkled. She smiled upon seeing his somewhat awed expression.

“This is beautiful,” he whispered. “I do not think I have ever seen this part of Lothlorien.”

She took his arm, leaning on it lightly, and stood closer to his side with an innocent intimacy that startled the elf from his reverie. He focused on the elleth whose arm was entwined with his own.

“Indeed it is beautiful. The young children swim here in the summer, for these are the shallowest pools.” She laughed. “My friends and I still swim here ourselves sometimes. This is such a relaxing place. In the morning, the sun rises right over the waterfall and reflects in the water. It looks as if the sun itself is spilling over the cliff.” She looked up at him. “You should try coming here before your meetings begin. In the early morning you would be alone and perhaps such a pleasant start to the day would make the rest of it seem less trying.”

He smiled at her, genuinely thankful for the suggestion. “I will, my lady. Tell me, do you often come here at sunrise?”

Her face lit up. “Oh yes. I love the sunrise and here it is spectacular.”

“I also have a spot in Eryn Galen where I go every morning to watch the sunrise. There is an especially old tree at the edge of the forest. We built a talan in it and it makes a lovely place to watch either sunrise or sunset.” He grinned at her. “It is also a popular place for trysts.”

She raised her eyebrows. “It does not sound very private.”

“The ladder to the talan is a rope ladder. You can pull it up after you.”

“I see,” she said, laughing.

They sat on a bench by the pond and spoke for nearly an hour. She described Lothlorien to him, but mainly now they spoke of the Greenwood. She had never traveled from Lothlorien, having been born there. That confirmed she was young.

A tryst in front of that lovely pond would have been all too easy. The lady had innocently taken his hand when they sat and was tracing patterns on it as they talked. She was easily teased by light barbs comparing Lothlorien to Greenwood and collapsed into giggles every time she fell into one of his traps. But she gave as good as she got, teasing him about diplomatic strategies (or foibles) and making comments that clearly showed she had been raised expecting to be an active member of the court in Lothlorien. Somehow the elf found himself less interested in a tryst and more interested in getting to know this young lady better. ‘She may be young, but she has a good affect on me,’ he thought realizing how much more relaxed he was than he had been when he had left the negotiations.

Finally the elf looked out over the waterfall and noticed it now glimmered with the light of the moon as well as the lanterns.

“I think it is well past time for you to get home, my lady. Your family must be worried about you by now and I know the other members of my delegation are likely frantic about my whereabouts.”

She smiled at him. “I often stay out late. It is perfectly safe here. But you need some sleep. Trust me, you do not want to yawn in Lord Amglaur’s face tomorrow. That would not advance your negotiations.”

“No, that would not make the best impression,” he agreed, standing and offering her his arm. They began to walk along the path. “Tell me, my lady, do you know the court well here? Might I look forward to seeing you at the festivities when Lord Elrond and Lord Cirdan arrive?”

“Yes, I will be attending. And I know the court fairly well.” She smiled and there was something about her eyes…a little impishness in them that piqued her companion’s curiosity. Her answer had been fairly evasive, he realized.

“Does your father serve the court here?” he asked directly.

“Indeed,” was the simple reply. Though her eyes were now downcast, he could tell she was laughing.

“And why are you laughing, my lady?”

She looked up at him with a completely sober expression. “Am I laughing, my lord?”

He looked at her appraisingly. “You were. Pray tell what is the joke, my lady, for I have missed it completely.”

She stopped and dropped his arm, standing in front of him with a broad but sheepish smile. “Very well. I am sorry, my lord. I suppose I have taken advantage of you, somewhat.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And how is that, my lady?”

“Well, you have not yet asked my name.”

His eyebrows climbed even higher. That was certainly true. He had spoken to this lady for several hours without the slightest idea what her name was. “I beg your pardon for my poor manners, my lady. I am accustomed to Eryn Galen where I know everyone. May I ask your name?”

Her smile deepened. “I am Lindomiel. Lindomiel Amglauriel.”

At that, the elf’s jaw dropped slightly before he caught himself. He could close his mouth, but he could not stop the spread of color across his cheeks—he often cursed his fair complexion for this very reason.

“Forgive me, lady Lindomiel. I certainly did not mean to insult your father…”

She waved him silent and took his arm to continue walking. “Yes you did and so do a lot of people. He is not well liked, but the friends he has are very loyal to him.” She laughed. “I am quite accustomed to people’s reactions to my father. And I am certainly glad I will never have to negotiate anything with him.”

The elf still looked at her ruefully. “I appreciate your indulgence, my lady. Again, I apologize.”

She shook her head dismissively.

Looking down at her, he smiled again. “Well now I am doubly motivated to try to find some common ground with your lord father. I need to conclude these treaties and I would like his permission to see his daughter more regularly.”

She returned his smile in response to that statement.

“Would you like that, my lady?” he said with a slightly teasing voice.

“I suppose I would not object,” she said airily.

Then he laughed outright. “Well perhaps you should know my name before you decide.”

They had reached her flet, apparently, because she stopped at the stairs that led up to it. Again she stood in front of him and took his hand in hers. His eyes were fairly twinkling with mirth when she did.

“Very well. It might make conversation easier if I knew your name. What is your name, my lord?”

He grinned wickedly at her. “Thranduil.”

The amusement vanished from her face and she stared at him, speechless.

“Turn about is fair play, my lady Lindomiel Amglauriel,” he replied with emphasis on the patronymic.

“Oh you are everything my Adar said you were before your arrival and then some,” she exclaimed with a laugh. Thranduil raised his eyebrows at that statement. He was sure Amglaur had not said anything particularly flattering given his behavior earlier. “I will have to keep an eye on you.”

Thranduil took her hand in his and kissed it lightly. “I hope you do,” he said before bowing slightly and walking down the path to the guest chambers.

********

A/N: I am going to add some members to the canon family trees but ONLY to those family trees that are not well defined by Tolkien. Elrond will have no extra daughters etc. In this chapter, I have given King Amdir of Lorien a younger brother named Amglaur. His wife's name is Limmiel and their daughter, the cousin of the current King Amroth, is Lindomiel.

********

Yén--an elven measurement of time, 144 solar years. Elves like to measure in twelves.

Eryn Galen--Greenwood (Eryn=Forest/wood, Calen=Green). The original name of the forest Thranduil ruled before it was claimed by shadow and began to be called Mirkwood by Men.

Chapter 4: Invitations

The next day found Thranduil back at the archery range butchering another target. He had been there for some time before the sound of laughter made him tense slightly. He did not stop his assault on the target, though he recognized the source of the laughter.

“You are going to destroy another target, my lord,” said a female voice.

“I will make Amroth another one,” Thranduil said with clipped tones. He did not cease firing arrows into the target.

Lindomiel walked along side him. “When my Adar got home, I listened to him for less than two minutes and gathered that I would find you here again.”

“I think it would be best if we did not discuss your lord father, my lady,” he snarled.

She laughed. “How do you make a courtesy like ‘lord father’ sound so insulting?”

He sighed and lowered the bow, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I do not mean to sound insulting, my lady,” he said in as polite a voice as he could muster.

She laid a hand on his arm. “You need not worry, my lord. As I told you last night, I am very accustomed to people’s reactions to my Adar. He is not well liked. He is not known for his diplomacy.” Thranduil snorted at that. “He is a good Adar. Very doting on me for I am my parents’ only child.”

“I pity your mother,” he said brusquely and then closed his eyes. “I apologize, my lady. I have no idea why Lord Amglaur has this affect on me, but I have no intention of making the situation more difficult by insulting him. Especially in front of his daughter.”

Lindomiel grinned. “Why not? Everybody else does. Do not worry, my lord. I think of it this way—I am doing my part for the realm when I try to calm the nerves of the elves my Adar rankles. It is not uncommon. Come take a walk with me. Let me see if I can help you find some common ground with him.”

Thranduil looked at her skeptically. “It is a tempting offer, my lady, but to be honest, I do not care to complicate this situation by giving your lord father reason to think that I am trifling with his daughter. And I am not sure he would appreciate any ‘help’ you gave me.”

She shrugged. “It is your decision, my lord. My Adar lectured me last night about being careful with you, and I often tell foreign diplomats the same things I would tell you now, but if you prefer to continue the Battle of the Archery Target, it suits me. There does not appear to be much glory in it though. The opponent seems well and thoroughly defeated.” She stood back a few paces as if she intended to watch.

Thranduil missed her joke, focusing instead on her first sentence. He looked at her tensely, trying to conceal his anger. “And what, precisely, did your Adar say about me, my lady.” His voice did not hide his anger well.

Her eyes narrowed somewhat at his tone and she met his gaze levelly. “That you are very…popular in Eryn Galen. Popular was not the word he used. But I would hardly need to be told that. An unmarried king? And you are hardly ill featured.” He would have sworn he could actually feel her eyes rake over his body with that comment. Thranduil knew he was blushing under her gaze. “Indeed I imagine you have had your choice of the ellyth in the Woodland Realm.”

He stared at her for a moment, speechless. “I think I am insulted,” he finally said in a stiff tone.

She looked at him coolly. “Well if you are insulted by being told that you are handsome, I cannot imagine what it would take to please you in any sort of truly intricate diplomatic negotiation.” A telltale quirk around her mouth caught Thranduil’s eye.

He let out a long breath and his eyes widened in amused disbelief. In response, she laughed.

“You are not so very different from your lord father, my lady,” he said looking at her warily, but with laughter in his eyes.

“No, I am not. I am very much like him, in fact. Getting to know me would help you deal with him. For example, when I am met with aggression, I return it in kind. As you have just seen. So does my Adar.”

Thranduil looked at her one last time before turning to retrieve his arrows. “And to think last night I believed you were too young and innocent to trifle with.”

She followed him. “I am young. Much younger than you, my lord. But I am also my father’s daughter as you said. I can handle Aran Thranduil. And Ernil Amglaur.”

“I see that you can.” He looked at her calmly. “The question is, can I handle Ernil Amglaur? Not in negotiations. There is no doubt I can in those circumstances.” His tone was not arrogant, it was coldly confident. “But rather can I handle his reaction to me spending time with his daughter?”

She smiled softly and took his arm. “My Adar said his piece to me about you. After that, he will trust my judgment and sense of honor. He always does. Do you think you are the first elf to come into my cousin’s court and notice me?” With that, she led him off down the paths.

They walked for nearly an hour before returning to the bench where they had sat the night before. Their conversation contained no more confrontations and Thranduil laughed inwardly to notice that the innocent little comments and gestures that had caught his eye the night before seemed once again to dominate her personality. He was amazed by the contrast of this lady with the one who had raked her eyes over him while informing him she assumed he led a loose lifestyle.

They were quietly enjoying the sound of the waterfall when he finally broke the silent between them. “So, my lady, at the risk of sounding insulting—and I assure you that is not my intent—how is it that you are still willing to spend time with me in such a secluded location given that you think I am such a reprobate?”

“I find that those who live in court rarely match the reputation they are burdened with. And you were lovely company last night.”

He laughed softly. “Thank you, my lady. As were you. I at least approached the negotiation table this morning in an open frame of mind thanks to your influence.” He looked down at her. “May I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“Do I really have such a terrible reputation here in Lorien?”

“My Adar seems to think so,” she answered frankly.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Well, I invite you to ask any of my people. I have no such reputation in Eryn Galen. I think most of the ellyth there are afraid of me and I was raised much too conservatively to engage in casual dalliances.”

“I believe you. You need not defend yourself to me. I make my own judgments about people.”

“Very well," he said quietly.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. Thranduil looked down on her, a little surprised by that gesture. He continued looking after his surprise faded, captivated by the light of the lanterns as it played on her hair. After a few silent moments, he saw her smile.

"Would you like to have dinner with us tomorrow night?" she asked simply.

He drew in a quiet breath. "I do not think Lord Amglaur would appreciate you issuing such an invitation, my lady."

"I often invite the elves I meet to have dinner with us. I am free to do so."

"The circumstances are slightly different, Lindomiel. I am not simply some elf you are flirting with. Your father and I are involved in negotiations that are important to both our realms. I cannot risk provoking him."

She raised her head from his shoulder and looked at him dispassionately. "Am I flirting with you, my lord? I thought I was doing my duty to as a lady of the court to entertain visiting dignitaries." Thranduil blushed. "You might find that meeting Ada on a more casual level will help your negotiations. Perhaps you can find some common ground."

Thranduil stared at her a moment. "I find I am completely off balance with you, my lady. If you think your Adar will not turn me away at the door, I would be delighted to join you for dinner."

She smiled and stood. He rose as well, confused until she began to lead him towards her flet. "He will not turn you away, my lord. He is not stupid," she said softly.

********

Adar/Ada--Father/Dad
Elleth/Ellyth--Female Elf(s)
Aran--King
Ernil--Prince

Chapter 4: Dinner with Amglaur

'It has been a very long time since I was nervous to join a lady and her parents for dinner,' Thranduil thought as he approached the flet where Lindomiel lived. The guards at the bottom of the stairs that led into the trees bowed to him before one indicated he should follow. Thranduil soon found himself bowing politely, albeit stiffly, to Ernil Amglaur. He was then introduced to Amglaur's wife, Limmiel. Thranduil was pleased to see that he liked Limmiel almost immediately.

Thranduil smiled to himself as dinner began. Amlgaur asked first his wife and then his daughter how their day had been and what they had done. It was a very pleasant family scene and it surprised Thranduil, given what he had seen of Amglaur at the negotiation table. As Lindomiel described her day, Thranduil raised his eyebrows when she mentioned that she had spoken to the master weaver about beginning to work with him. Amglaur noticed his reaction.

"Your lady mother also enjoys weaving, does she not?" This question was directed to Thranduil by Amglaur in a stern tone. As he snapped to attention under Amglaur's gaze, Thranduil realized suddenly what threw him off balance around Amglaur. Amglaur reminded him of his father, Oropher.

"Yes, my lord. Our Queen has made many lovely tapestries and other such things over the years."

"How is Dieneryn? I was surprised she did not fade after Oropher's death."

Thranduil visibly paled at that question. "I am exceedingly thankful that she did not," he replied quietly before continuing in a stronger voice. "Naneth is well," he replied, seeing no point in sticking to titles and formalities when Amglaur had already referred to both his father and mother by name. "She suffered as we all did and recovered as much as any of us will."

"And why did not she travel to Lothlorien with you? Surely she wanted to visit her kin here?"

Thranduil looked at Amglaur silently a moment. Yes, this inquisition felt like something Oropher might have done. "The Queen was needed to rule Eryn Galen while I was away," he finally answered.

Amglaur regarded him coolly. "You have no advisors? No steward?"

Thranduil's tone held irritation now. "Yes, my lord. I have many competent advisors. One of them is my father's queen. She chose to stay in Eryn Galen while I traveled here and for that I am very grateful. She rules my father's kingdom better than I can ever hope to."

"Hmm. I hear you do well enough," Amglaur replied, causing Thranduil to glance at him sharply and with some surprise. They were silent for a moment. "How is Eryn Galen?" Amglaur finally asked casually.

Thranduil looked at him suspiciously now.

Amglaur frowned. "This is a casual dinner conversation, Thranduil, not a diplomatic maneuver. You insult me. If for no other reason than if I do care to trick you, I will be much more subtle."

Thranduil looked down automatically. "Forgive me. It was not my intent to insult you.” He paused and considered the question Amglaur had asked. “I am learning that Eryn Galen is…a large kingdom with many very scattered villages and a wide variety of needs. It does well, but there are changes I would like to see made."

Amglaur’s tone was once again conversational. "Indeed. I have never regretted being my father's younger son and I was always thankful my brother, Amdir, had his own son before he was killed. I would not care to rule these Silvan elves and I do not envy you.”

He paused, glanced at his daughter’s plate and put another serving of venison on it. Thranduil tried to hide his amusement at Lindomiel’s annoyed frown. His amusement turned to astonishment as Amglaur spooned both venison and mushrooms onto his plate. Granted, he had enjoyed the mushrooms and had probably eaten them with some relish but it had been over three millennia since anyone had fed him. Thranduil stared at his host. Amglaur did not notice but his wife apparently had—she was hiding her laughter behind a napkin. Thranduil rolled his eyes and began to eat the food as Amglaur continued his monologue.

“I hear one of the changes that you are enforcing quite vigorously is the development of smithies for metal weaponry," Amglaur said. "Why is that? Surely we are at peace now."

"I do not believe Sauron was destroyed. I do not trust the peace."

"Sauron is gone, Thranduil," Amglaur said quietly.

"May it be so," Thranduil replied, "but I will never again leave two thirds of my people on another battlefield. I will protect these people if the need arises."

"I understand," Amglaur said softly. "We both suffered losses at the Dagorlad, I seem to recall."

Thranduil closed eyes. "Indeed we did. How is your lady mother? I have not seen her since my arrival."

"She sailed from Belfalas soon after Amroth returned alone."

Thranduil hastily looked down at that to conceal his shock and whispered a quick prayer of thanks that his own mother did not choose the same path. "I am sorry. I had never heard that," he said.

"We take comfort in the fact that she is at peace and safe."

"Of course."

“And your own Naneth has no such intentions?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no.” Thranduil replied quickly.

“Then since you will not let her out of court, I would like to visit my cousin. Perhaps Limmiel, Lindomiel and myself can travel to Eryn Galen in the summer.”

Thranduil tried to conceal several emotions at that statement. The overwhelming one was absolute horror at the idea of actually having to entertain Amglaur in his court. Mixed with that, he found, was the pleasant idea of having the privilege of entertaining Lindomiel. King Thranduil answered automatically above the warring thoughts. “You are always welcome in Eryn Galen, of course. Visit us anytime you like,” he said with what he hoped was a pleasant tone.

Lindomiel was looking at her father with some interest. “I did not know you and Lady Dieneryn were cousins, Ada.”

Amglaur laughed. “All the Sindar remaining on Middle Earth must be cousins somehow, but Dieneryn is related to me by marriage. She is my brother Amdir’s wife’s brother’s daughter. Is that right, Thranduil?”

Thranduil nodded and would have responded verbally but Amglaur cut him off.

“Dieneryn was the first daughter born in her generation. We all doted on her. She was a favorite in court in Menegroth.” He turned to Thranduil. “We were all a little upset when your Adar carried her off.”

Thranduil laughed. “I was born in Menegroth. He could not have carried her too far.”

Amglaur laughed as well. “Well, we did not get angry with your Adar until he went off to Amon Lanc. We will never forgive him for that.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “At least she did not marry a Noldo like that cousin of yours, Thranduil. Celeborn must be out of his mind. The half niece of Feanor!”

Thranduil raised his glass to Amglaur with a smile. “Now there is something we are in complete agreement on.”

*********

Ernil--Prince
Eryn Galen--Greenwood (the orignal name of Mirkwood before the Shadow fell on it)
Naneth/Nana--Mother/Mum
Adar/Ada--Father/Dad

Chapter 5: Conversations or confrontations

Thranduil approached the negotiation table the next morning with no expectations that Amglaur would be any friendlier despite the relatively pleasant dinner they had enjoyed together the night before. And he was not disappointed. However, he was better prepared. Thranduil was a young king, relatively speaking in the eyes of elves, but he was a keen judge of character. Lindomiel was correct. Amglaur tended to react when confronted. Otherwise, he tended to be more reasonable. Since Thranduil was aware that he did exactly the same thing and that he was very direct and confrontational by nature, he decided it would be best to step back. Instead of participating actively in the negotiations, he allowed Hallion, his steward, to speak. Hallion had been Oropher’s chief councilor as well and he had served in the court in Doriath. He was quiet, reserved and dangerous as a sharp blade. Negotiations went much better with him leading them.

That night, Thranduil sat on the quiet pool-side bench enjoying the beauty of the waterfall rather than slaughtering archery targets on the range. Much to his surprise, it was Amglaur that joined him there rather than Lindomiel.

Thranduil stood in respect upon seeing the prince approach. Amglaur smiled wryly in response to that courtesy. Taking a seat on the bench, he gestured for Thranduil to do the same. Amglaur eyed Thranduil for several moments, but Thranduil ignored him and instead returned his gaze to the waterfall.

“Well you can be taught,” Amglaur finally said softly. “And I find that to be an encouraging sign.”

Thranduil tensed. It was, of course, his natural reaction to rise to such bait, but he was determined not to react in that way. Instead he turned to Amglaur and spoke politely. “I beg your pardon? I can be taught what, my lord?”

Amglaur raised his eyebrows. “Very good indeed, Thranduil.”

Thranduil felt every muscle in his body go taut. He only succeeded marginally in keeping his face arranged in a neutral expression. Taking a deep breath, he spoke quietly. “We both know you are trying to be provoking, Lord Amglaur. Please explain to me why, for I see no purpose in it.”

Amglaur looked at him coldly now. “I knew your Adar, Thranduil. I was on the Dagorlad when he killed two thirds of your warriors with his pride. And I know you. From what I remember, you are just like your father. Hot tempered, reckless, willful, prideful…” he drifted to a stop and watched for a reaction.

Thranduil’s face no longer concealed his anger. “First of all," Thranduil began heatedly. "My Adar was a very good king. I do not deny his actions on the Dagorlad were disastrous, but he ruled Eryn Galen for three millennia with great success and those elves followed him in that insane charge because they loved him. As for myself, please allow that years of war and loss might change a person, my lord. I do not deny that in my early youth I was exactly what you describe. But I was also on the Dagorlad. And at the siege for the seven years that followed. And before that I was at Menegroth, like you, when it was attacked first by dwarves and then by our own kin.”

“You were a mere elfling at Menegroth…”

“That does not diminish my memory of it," he interrupted Amglaur firmly, fixing him with a cold look. "But your memories of me are from Menegroth and Sirion, when I was indeed a mere elfling. I have been an adult for over three millennia. I have mastered my temper. I must for the sake of the people I lead. It is not I that came here spoiling for a fight, nor will I stay and participate in one.” He snorted. “Nor can I imagine why you have come to provoke one. What do you hope to gain with this conversation?”

Amglaur glared at him levelly. “I hope to find out what sort of elf my daughter has taken such an interest in. I hope to find out if what I have heard from Eryn Galen is correct.”

Thranduil lifted his chin. “Your lady daughter told me what you heard of me from Eryn Galen, my lord. And I assure you it is not correct…”

Thranduil was astonished when Amglaur laughed out right at that.

“I do not find such slurs on my reputation to be so entertaining, my lord.” Thranduil said icily.

Amglaur held up his hand, still laughing. “Forgive me,” he spluttered finally. “Did she really tell you what I said?”

“Indeed.”

“That’s my daughter. She is nothing if not direct. Oh, I am sorry, Thranduil. You do have a bit of a reputation in that area as well, but it is clearly the product of the hopeful imaginations of the smitten ellyth in your court.” He laughed again at Thranduil’s frown. “I am not truly concerned about your honor. I am concerned about my daughter’s happiness. I want her to find someone who will cherish her as her mother and I do. And my recollection of you is that you are not the type of personality capable of what I want for my daughter.” Amglaur was still chuckling as he finished that little monologue.

Thranduil blinked. “Am I courting your daughter, my lord?”

Amglaur sobered slightly. “Are you?”

Thranduil looked away and drew a deep breath. “I do not know her nearly well enough to say if I am or not. I have known her for less than half of a week. I enjoy her company and I very much would like to get to know her better.” He laughed derisively. “And I would not worry about her if I were you. She has her father’s sharp tongue and wit.”

Amglaur fixed him with a harsh glare now. “Very well, but do not get too attached to the idea. I hear that you have proven yourself to be a very reasonable, conservative and just king. I hear the elves in Eryn Galen love you. But I will go there myself this summer to be the judge of that. I will not allow the King of Eryn Galen to take my daughter someplace where she will not be loved and cherished for the precious jewel that she is. Do we understand each other?”

Thranduil stared at him a moment. “Yes, my lord, we do understand each other.”

Amglaur nodded and stood to leave. Thranduil stood as well and caught his arm. Amglaur turned back to him. Thranduil looked at him placidly. “You knew my father?”

“I did.”

“And you did not like him?”

“I did not.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. “You are exactly like him. Down to the last mannerism,” he said calmly.

“I know,” Amglaur responded coolly. Pulling from Thranduil’s grasp, he walked silently away.

********

Eryn Galen--Greenwood (Eryn=Forest/wood, Calen=green) The original name of Mirkwood before the Shadow fell on it.
Adar/Ada--Father/Dad
Dagorlad--Battle Plain (where the first battles of the War of the Last Alliance were fought)
Elleth/Ellyth--Female Elf(s)

Chapter 6: First Yén Council

A few days before Yestarë, Elrond arrived in Lothlorien along with his advisors, his wife, Celebrian, and his new in-laws Celeborn and Galadriel. Cirdan and his family and advisors had traveled with them from Lindon. All the elven lords were expected at this council. It was the first to be held since the beginning of the Third Age. Thranduil had arrived a few weeks early to establish the treaties that had been such a point of contention between himself and Amroth and Amglaur—those treaties only affected Lothlorien and Greenwood.

The summit itself was being held at the end of the first yén after the Defeat of Sauron. It was an informational meeting, although everyone knew it would give some of the younger leaders time to reacquaint themselves with each other. Elrond had ruled Imladris for nearly two millennia now. But all the other rulers of the elves in Middle Earth were new to their positions. Cirdan had ruled the Falas during much of the First Age, but had only become ruler of Lindon with the death of Gil-galad in Mordor. Amroth became ruler of Lothlorien upon the death of his father, Amdir, in the same battle. And of course Thranduil ascended to his father’s throne in Greenwood under the same circumstances. Now that all these new kings had a full yén to come into their own, this meeting was an opportunity to establish closer ties. Or so they hoped.

The meeting began with each of the elven rulers delivering reports on the state of their realms. Thranduil listened to these reports silently. It did not please him to hear Cirdan, one of the Telari, or Elrond, Elwing’s son, speak of the Noldor in their realms with such love. Nor was he comfortable in the presence of Glorfindel or particularly Galadriel. Sitting across from her, Thranduil was certain he could feel her lust for power; her desire for a realm to rule. Even after an entire age, Thranduil found he could not forget the Noldor's deeds in Menegroth or Sirion.

The summaries finished, Thranduil shifted in his seat, anger rising as he listened to Elrond drone on about his plans for the elven kingdoms in the Third Age. Thranduil had no more intention of following Elrond in the new age than his father had followed Gil-galad in the Second. Whenever Thranduil had such thoughts, his mind automatically turned to the fact that his father had paid with his life for his unwillingness to cooperate and that memory tempered his reaction. Today, this thought made him recollect Amglaur and all that he had said about him and his father. He glanced at the Prince of Lothlorien and then he smirked. Amglaur looked every bit as disgusted as Thranduil was. He decided to take this as encouragement.

Elrond was currently speaking about the defense of the East-West Road.

“Excuse me, lord Elrond,” Thranduil interrupted. “I seem to recall that the road in question runs into my forest. And it is my people that maintain and defend the ford across the Anduin that you are currently discussing. It might be appropriate to at least consult the Woodland Realm before making plans for that ford.”

“Well said, Thranduil,” Amglaur chimed, a deep frown on his face.

Thranduil took a quick, surprised look at Amglaur and his astonishment grew as Amglaur nodded to him encouragingly before turning back to Elrond and speaking himself. “And as for the River Anduin itself, I believe Amroth and Thranduil would both agree that it is far more appropriate for Lothlorien and the Woodland Realm to regulate access to it.”

Elrond raised his eyebrows in sincere surprise. “I am not suggesting anything to the contrary, lord Amglaur. I am simply making general statements. The intent here is to identify assets that require fortification…”

“And we are merely recommending that we know Rhovanion better than you Elrond. You should allow us to speak to it.” This came from King Amroth.

“As you wish," Elrond responded. "I am familiar with these assets having spent the last two millennia working with them along with your fathers but…”

Thranduil openly bristled at that condescending remark. He cut Elrond off sharply. “And I have not been a babe at my father’s knee for the last three millennia, Elrond. My brother and I took an active role in the management of Eryn Galen since my father became its king over three millennia ago. I hardly need instruction on governing my own kingdom or identifying her assets.”

Elrond regarded Thranduil icily. “Thranduil, would it be possible for you to make the effort that your father did not to work with your Elven allies instead of against us.”

“I will be quite happy to work with my allies, Elrond,” Thranduil said with a meaningful glance at Galadriel and Glorfindel. “As I seem to recall, I did precisely that during a seven year siege in Mordor. But, like my father, I have no intention of being ruled. I will decide what is best for Eryn Galen as I respect your right to decide what is best for your valley, Cirdan’s right to make choices for the land west of the Ered Luin, and Amroth’s right to rule the Golden Wood.”

A frown creased Elrond's brow. “I do not have any desire to dictate to you the way you rule your kingdom, Thranduil," he said sharply, "but there are certain assets of common importance to all of us. I do not deny passage to nor extract tolls from the elves of Eryn Galen when they travel through the High Pass, yet I protect that Pass.”

“And I do not try to tell you how you should protect it," Thranduil countered. "Yet you are telling me how to defend and maintain the ford.”

“I am summarizing how the ford’s defense and maintenance have been handled in the past.”

“You are making that summary to the commander of the warriors that were responsible for that defense and maintenance, Elrond.”

“I am making that summary for the benefit of those here, such as Amroth and Cirdan, that may not be aware of how these matters were handled.”

“And my suggestion is that you let the people present who are most familiar with these matters make the summary. It is insulting to listen to you speak of my own kingdom as if I am not even aware of what stands at its borders.”

“It simply seems easier to allow one person to summarize past situations so that we can move forward and discuss the changes we will have to make to accommodate future needs.”

“And who made that decision, Elrond?”

Elrond threw up his hands and sat down. “How would you like to proceed, Thranduil?” he asked tiredly.

Thranduil looked back at him coolly. “I think that is the question—how should we proceed? We have discussed the general state of our realms. Now that we have done that, I think we should work together to establish an agenda of what we hope to achieve here and outline how we intend to realize those goals. Rather than just assuming that we all have the same goals in mind that you do. Perhaps you and Cirdan discussed these things as you traveled here, Elrond. Amroth and I were not part of those discussions if they even happened. We may have different ideas about this summit.”

Elrond sighed and looked at Thranduil. “You are right, Thranduil. We will do so. How would you suggest we do that?”

Thranduil eyed Elrond narrowly, suspicious of his suddenly his overly obliging manner. Meanwhile, Amglaur tried to contain his laughter at this rapid fire exchange between Gil-galad’s natural heir and Oropher’s heir. Yes, Thranduil had a lot of his father in him, but Amglaur could not deny that he saw a good deal more as well.

*****

Yestarë--Elven New Year Day
Eryn Galen--Greenwood (the original name of Mirkwood before the Shadow fell across the forest)
Yén--a period of 144 solar years. An elven measurement of time since they like to count in twelves.

Chapter 7: Curiosities

On Yestarë, Amroth held a banquet, as was the custom of the Silvan Elves, and all present for the summit, as well as all of Amroth’s people, attended it. The elven lords were seated at the High Table. Thranduil sat with Amroth’s family and to his right. Amroth was smart enough to then seat Elrond and his party to his left and as far away from Thranduil as possible. Thranduil enjoyed this seating arrangement to the extent that he could. He and Amglaur could hardly be called friends, but at least they had found common ground uniting along with Amroth to try to steer this council towards something that represented all the realms rather than just the ones in the west.

The east and west division in the seating arrangement at the High Table, however, was noted by all and accepted as still necessary.

Thranduil enjoyed the feast, hoping that Amglaur would have the courtesy to not feed him again and this time in public. He particularly enjoyed watching Lindomiel. She had worn a deep blue, flowing gown, heavily embroidered with silver thread. In her hair were silver tracings that glittered in counterpoint to her golden locks. But none of her finery competed with her own natural beauty. In the excitement of the festival, her skin glowed and her eyes twinkled and Thranduil found it difficult to breath whenever her gaze met his.

“Who is this maiden that has you so ensorcelled, my lord?” Hallion asked, leaning over and whispering in his king’s ear. Hallion was much older than Thranduil. He had been Oropher’s steward, one of Thranduil’s tutors and he looked upon his king with something of a paternal eye more often than Thranduil prefered.

Thranduil looked sharply at his chief advisor. “The maiden in the blue dress?” he asked with a casual tone. “That is Lord Amglaur’s daughter. Lindomiel is her name.”

Hallion studied Thranduil. First of all, his careless attitude stood in stark contrast to the fact that his eyes had not left the young lady since she had risen from the table to wander amongst her friends at the lower tables. That alone told Hallion volumes. Second, Hallion was completely aware of his king’s movements, even if said king refused to acknowledge that. He knew perfectly well that Thranduil had dinner several nights ago with Amglaur, but not at the prince’s invitation. Hallion had wondered about it at the time and was perfectly capable of adding that sum now that he saw how Thranduil watched Amglaur’s daughter.

Hallion knew much better than to comment on Thranduil’s personal life before he was invited to do so. That taboo had nothing to do with the fact Thranduil was now a king. It had been true when Thranduil was five years old. He was a private person by nature, taking very few people into his confidence and guarding his heart very closely. Even his closest friends, and Hallion counted in that circle, were not allowed to see Thranduil’s feelings until he was ready. So Hallion leaned back and watched the maiden instead.

Stunning, Hallion thought, but he also knew that was fairly irrelevant in Thranduil’s mind. All ellyth were pretty enough. Hallion’s appraisal moved forward--Sindar and of a line untainted by Noldorin blood. The advisor knew that was critical to Thranduil. His king would very happily marry a Silvan maiden, but he would never marry anyone with Noldorin blood. Hallion watched the girl with her female friends, talking at one of the tables on the lawn. ‘Valar, she must be young!’ he thought. Hallion really could not imagine what Thranduil saw in that. Not that youth did not have its uses but…what could they possibly talk about? Hallion frowned. If any other elf in their circle of friends were involved, Hallion would have assumed the girl was about to become an enjoyable dalliance. But that was very unlikely with Thranduil and most especially with daughters of princes while on diplomatic missions. Thranduil was a poor diplomat but he was not a dotard.

On top of that, it was no secret to anyone that Thranduil had developed a very healthy dislike for Amglaur. That made Hallion laugh. From his interactions with the Prince of Lothlorien, Hallion thought that Amglaur was very much like Oropher. Hallion knew that Thranduil had loved his father fiercely, so he was very much at a loss as to why he conflicted so with Amglaur. Could Amglaur oppose something of a more personal nature that Thranduil wanted? But that would imply Thranduil was serious about this maiden.

Hallion found himself frowning as he watched his king watch this elleth, now dancing with her female friends on one side of the glade.

The dancing was in full swing when Thranduil was finally pulled into a conversation between Cirdan and Elrond and Celeborn about some fool thing that Oropher had done. Hallion laughed, knowing that conversation would not end any time soon. He decided to slip away from the High Table and enjoy a little dancing.

“My lady, will you do me the honor of a dance?” Hallion asked formally, looking at Lindomiel with a respectful smile. Hallion was of the Sindarin nobility that traveled with Oropher from Lindon to join with the Silvan elves, but his rank did not approach that of Thranduil, descended from Elmo, or even Amglaur who had been one of Elu Thingol’s favored nobles.

Lindomiel did not seem to care who he was. She smiled, stood and offered him her hand. He bowed over it dutifully and led her to the line of dancers on the main lawn. They danced through two dances—she asked for the second since it was one of her favorites—and then he led her back towards her friends.

It was not uncommon or unacceptable for a lord to ask a lady he did not know to dance if neither were engaged with a partner. And it was considered polite to accept such an offer unless one had absolutely no intention of dancing that dance. But acceptance of a dance did not signify the beginnings of a friendship. Proper introductions were required for that sort of familiarity and it would not be Hallion’s place to impose an introduction upon a lady of Lindomiel’s rank. Therefore, he was surprised when she requested one.

“You are with Thranduil’s delegation? From Eryn Galen?” she asked as they walked.

Hallion quickly stifled his reaction to her familiarity—to both the king and himself. “Yes, my lady. I am Hallion, the king’s chief advisor.”

She smiled a radiant smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Hallion. I am Lindomiel Amglauriel.”

“So the king mentioned to me, my lady,” he replied.

She raised her eyebrows. “Did he? I am surprised he found a moment to do anything but discuss politics with my Adar,” she retorted playfully.

Hallion raised his eyebrows as well. “He is the king, my lady, and your adar is a prince,” he replied.

Now she looked at him with mirthful eyes. “Indeed. And tell me, Lord Hallion, did Thranduil send you, as his advisor, to form an opinion of me or did you decide to come do it yourself?”

Hallion blinked at her, stumbling to a halt in their progression back to her friends. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

She laughed lightly. “Come, lord Hallion, as straightforward as Thranduil is, you must be accustomed to directness by now.”

He looked at the elleth before him a moment before answering. “I confess, my lady, I doubt the king has noticed my absence as he is engaged in a defense of his sire’s actions during the War of the Last Alliance. As such, I took the opportunity to learn something about someone who has apparently caught his eye.”

Hallion was shocked when she laughed out loud. “Oh there is so much humor in that statement, I do not know where to begin. First of all, I hope he is not trying to defend Oropher to my Adar. If he is, I hope he is armed. Second, how could you possibly hope to ‘learn’ anything with a dance? You can see from your seat that I can dance. Third,” and now she looked at him slyly, “have I caught Thranduil’s eye? That would be hard to determine given that he has not spoken to me all evening.”

Hallion found himself simply staring at Lindomiel, hard pressed to keep his mouth from falling open. ‘This one is a spitfire,’ Hallion thought. ‘At least she would match Thranduil’s temper, it seems.’

When he made no reply, Lindomiel took his arm firmly. “Come, sit with my friends and I for a few moments. That way you can accomplish your goal.” She led him to the table where he had found her and pulled him to sit with them. Her friends looked at her with grins on their faces.

“Lord Hallion, this is Amoneth, Gwedhieth and Mithrellas, all friends of mine. Ladies, this is Aran Thranduil’s chief advisor.”

Hallion stood for the introductions and bowed politely over the ladies’ hands, relieved that this elleth at least referred to his king properly in the presence her friends.

Seating himself again, Hallion courteously answered questions from the ladies about Greenwood and then Doriath. He was correct that these ladies were young. The two Sindar amongst them, Lindomiel and Amoneth, had clearly not been to even Lindon, much less Beleriand. But they seemed interested in his stories, pressing him for more and for details. Even the Silvan ellyth seemed well educated in their lore. Clearly these were ladies of the court. Hallion was quite surprised to find himself enjoying their company. They were intelligent and quite interesting company for such young folk.

********

Yestarë--Elven New Year
Elleth/ellyth--Female Elf(s)
Adar/ada--Father/dad

Chapter 8: Confrontations

“Oropher’s pride was his own undoing!”

That had been the phrase, declared in a loud, haughty voice by Glorfindel, that began the argument now raging at the High Table.

It did rage. From the perspective of the lesser tables on the lawn, it appeared the noble elves were having an engaging conversation. If any of the Silvan elves had pursued a closer inspection, it would have been clear that the nobles at the High Table were trying to avoid engaging in open warfare. Speaking in the calmest voices they could maintain and with overly courteous manners, they battled verbally with clenched fists and flashing eyes.

Attacks on his father were one thing that Thranduil had never been able to tolerate—not when he lived in Sirion and Lindon where certain Noldorin lords took their pleasure mocking the displaced Sindarin prince and not since the war against Sauron when even Thranduil admitted in his heart of hearts that not all his sire’s actions had been wise.

They might not have been wise, but they were not prideful either.

Glorfindel’s slur caused the conversation amongst the elves from Greenwood to fall silent and Thranduil’s head to snap around the second it was uttered. Glorfindel had been speaking presumably to Galadriel or Elrond in Quenya, a language Thranduil had not heard since his childhood and would not customarily respond to per Elu Thingol’s edict. Indeed, Thranduil had been studiously ignoring the conversation to his left throughout dinner. Now he no longer would.

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward at the table to engage Glorfindel. “By what right do you speak thusly of the dead? Did you know my adar? Not at all. How can you speak with such assurance of his motivations?”

Amglaur snorted. “Glorfindel may not have known Oropher, but I did. A more arrogant elf I never met.”

Before Thranduil could respond to that, Celeborn’s eyes had narrowed as well. “Your attitude, Amglaur, could not possibly be inspired by the fact that Oropher outstripped you at everything the two of you competed over, could it?”

Thranduil’s eyebrows rose at that and he made a mental note to quiz his cousin about the details of that assertion later.

Glorfindel laughed and spoke disdainfully. “Regardless of the specifics of Oropher’s enmity with Lord Amglaur, history teaches us that Oropher’s actions in Mordor demonstrate the folly of pride.”

Thranduil’s brow knit. “What action, motivated by pride, do you believe led to my adar’s undoing, Glorfindel?” he asked coldly. Of course Thranduil knew Glorfindel was referring to the first battle of the war, when his father had been killed.

Glorfindel looked at Thranduil with amusement and a palatable attitude of superiority. “I had always thought your family was a little dull, lord Thranduil. Apparently you have already forgotten the sporadic charge your adar led long before any of the rest of us were in position?”

Elrond and Erestor cast Glorfindel scathing looks. They agreed Oropher’s actions spoke for themselves, but there was no need to insult Thranduil. The elves from Greenwood tensed visibly. Oropher was not prideful, but he had a temper—one that his son had inherited.

Thranduil glowered at Glorfindel and spoke to him in a voice that shook with fury and grief. “Naturally I am so dull that I have completely forgotten the battle in which my adar died not a foot from my shoulder. Where I saw him fall and could do nothing to help him. I recall nothing of that, Glorfindel, for it was meaningless to me.”

He paused and all at the table were silent. Everyone present had lost family and dear friends in that war. Everyone still felt the pain of their loss. Glorfindel allowed his gaze to drop to the table.

After a moment, Thranduil continued in only a slightly calmer tone. “I will not try to argue that charge was disastrous. It clearly was. But pride did not motivate it. Loyalty did. Do you think the Silvan elves that my adar ruled wanted to meddle in the affairs of the Noldor or Man? When did they ever tolerate such interactions? Despite his people’s preference to avoid the conflict, my adar brought them to war because he was wise. He saw that peace would not return unless Sauron was overcome. He raised an army in Eryn Galen. He motivated Amdir to raise one in Lorien. And he led those people to aid yours in a war they had no desire to fight. They followed him because they loved and trusted him. They neither loved nor trusted Gil-galad so my adar would not leave his people under Gil-galad’s command.”

Glorfindel looked at Thranduil coolly. “More the pity then. They trusted him and he led them to death.”

Thranduil’s fists clenched. “More the pity indeed. He led the Silvan to aid Gil-galad’s host from the west. Where was your aid when my adar’s people needed it? Did you move to help him? You did not release a single arrow. Yet we stayed in that battle, did not retreat, stood by your force when it finally entered battle and that battle was ultimately won. Their king lost, my people stayed in Mordor with your forces, despite the fact that they clearly saw they were ill-equipped, and fought Sauron for seven years.”

“I do not fault your people’s valor, lord Thranduil. They fought well, sacrificed much and contributed greatly to Sauron’s destruction. It is Oropher’s leadership that I question. It was fool-hardy pride not to obey the orders of the High King.”

“And I say it was prideful of Gil-galad to assume he was the captain of the elves and pride that prevented him from accepting the fact that the Silvan elves would not be led by him. If my adar had submitted his army to foreign control, those elves would not have followed Gil-galad. Warriors must trust their captain. If Gil-galad was such a great captain, why did he not recognize that fact and accept that he would have to coordinate his attacks with another captain? If he had been willing to make better use of runners to communicate in that battle, the host of Silvan elves would have been better informed and the timing of the charge properly coordinated. There was plenty of blame to go around in that battle, Glorfindel.”

Elrond spoke before the conversation could degenerate any further. “Indeed there was. And afterwards we all strove to address the issues that were raised. No one here can deny, for example, that when Thranduil commanded the Silvan army he took it upon himself to carefully communicate with the forces from the west. It is my belief that rather than engaging in mocking invective, it is more useful to recognize that it is not uncommon for the first battles waged in a war of that scale to suffer a few problems. Oropher’s early charge was not the only aspect of that battle that merits criticism. It is certainly a tragedy that the King of the Woodland Realm paid with his life while we learned how to better coordinate our efforts. Perhaps we should honor that sacrifice and not speak ill of the dead.”

“Well said, Elrond,” Celeborn and Amroth said at once.

When Elrond began speaking, Thranduil had tensed and prepared himself to return attack against whatever the Lord of Imladris might say. By the time his peer had finished speaking, Thranduil was left staring at him not sure how to respond. Elrond’s speech had been very…sensitive.

Galadriel looked at her husband and son-in-law appraisingly. “Would that the lessons learned at Dagorlad might extend to the peace after it,” she said softly.

Thranduil’s eyes shifted to Feanor’s half niece. “What precisely is that supposed to mean, my lady,” he said coldly.

Elrond rolled his eyes and looked at his father-in-law. His expression pleaded for the silver elf’s intervention. Celeborn looked back at Elrond and laughed lightly. Celeborn had learned a long time ago not to get between his wife and cousin.

Galadriel regarded Thranduil coolly. “I simply mean that you have done nothing but glower at me since we first sat at the council table together. This council would certainly be more productive if all the current elven lords could at least feign amicability.”

Thranduil smiled at her. It was not a pleasant smile. “I am sitting at the table with you, am I not, my lady?” he replied pointedly.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Galadriel only laughed at that, sincere amusement in her eyes. “Indeed, Thranduil. I would make a joke about the fact that you have sat civilly and not even thrown a knife at me yet, but I think you would only remind me that it is not you but rather I to whom the term kinslayer refers. Is that not what you are thinking? Is that not what you still hold against me?”

Thranduil only raised his eyebrows, looking at her placidly.

Amglaur was less restrained. “It is not easy to look down the table at the last face my kin in Alqualondë saw before they died by elven hands, Galadriel. You should be thankful the Sindar are less like you.”

Now Celeborn leaned forward, eyes hard and cold. “Govern your tongue, Amglaur, lest you force me to teach you why the Noldor think the Sindar are less refined. My lady wife was in no way involved with the actions to which you refer. Dior was my cousin, for pity’s sake.”

As several Noldorin and Sindarin elves at the table glared at each other. Amroth shook his head. “No where is the power of the Evil One more evident then in his ability to divide those who by nature should be allies. Evil has been driven from the world by tremendous sacrifice, yet we still bicker over events that occurred an entire age ago. It is his legacy that we submit ourselves to by behaving this way. Can we not seek peace?”

Galadriel looked sadly at Amroth. “That was truly well said, lord Amroth.” She turned her gaze to Thranduil. “It is for that reason and not to seek a realm of my own that I wished to attend this council. I fear the Evil One has not been entirely eliminated. I strongly feel we must unite and remain alert, lest we fall to more suffering.”

Thranduil blinked at that statement. He also did not believe Sauron had been truly defeated. He returned Galadriel’s penetrating gaze evenly and with open curiosity. “Please do not take this question the wrong way, for I would never argue against a call for unity rather than suffering, my lady, but I cannot help but wonder why you believe Sauron was not defeated.”

She looked at him with piercing clarity. “I believe it was significant that Isildur did not destroy the One Ring. It still has power. I can feel it. And that makes me believe that Sauron was not entirely destroyed.”

All at the table fell silent at that and Thranduil’s blood ran cold. He did not like Galadriel. Not one bit. But he did respect her powers of perception. Hearing what she had said was all Thranduil needed to confirm his own suspicions.

“For the first time in two ages I find myself in complete agreement with a Noldo of Finwe’s line. Holy Valar, it must be a sign of the approach of the Final Battle!” Thranduil exclaimed softly.

Most of the elves at the table laughed at that muttered comment, which elven hearing had not misplaced. Galadriel looked at Thranduil with delighted amusement. Jaws dropped when Thranduil shook his head and winked at her in response.

Then the King of Greenwood the Great stood. “I think I will seek unity of a different nature. If you will excuse me, I see my steward on the lawn with some lovely ellyth. I think I will join them.”

Elrond and Celeborn looked at Thranduil’s retreating back, smiling in amazement as he descended from the dais and walked across the green to join his chief advisor. The son of Oropher might be more complex than they had truly realized.

Moments later, Hallion, sitting with Lindomiel and her friends, felt a tap on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw Thranduil gazing down at him with a smile but otherwise unreadable expression on his face. Hallion immediately stood and bowed slightly. “My lord,” he said, surprise evident in his voice.

“Lord Hallion,” Thranduil replied evenly, looking at him a moment longer than necessary. Then he turned his eyes on the ladies. All but Lindomiel were staring at him with undisguised awe and no small amount of admiration. It was not a reaction he was unaccustomed to.  “Lady Lindomiel,” Thranduil said, bowing in her direction and kissing the hand she offered.

Hallion saw the amusement dancing in her eyes and tensed slightly.

Thranduil finally nodded to the other ladies.

When Lindomiel said nothing, Hallion shook his head slightly and performed the introductions. “My lord, this is Amoneth, Gwedhieth and Mithrellas,” he said, supplying all the information he had. Thranduil smiled at them. They were too busy staring at him to have the presence of mind to offer their hands. Hallion had no doubt they would regret that when it occurred to them later.

Finally Lindomiel laughed. “Oh really, my lord, do you intend to stand there the entire night? Do sit down and join us. We are having a lovely conversation with Lord Hallion, are we not ladies?”

All the ladies confirmed this.

Then Lindomiel looked at Thranduil sidelong. “Thank the stars he came to entertain us. You, on the other hand, seem to find the High Table utterly fascinating. Though I cannot imagine why. Surely discussing Aran Oropher with my Adar is not a pleasant experience. Do you enjoy misery, my lord?”

Hallion looked anxiously at Thranduil, unable to imagine what his response to that would be. It had been millennia since anyone treated Thranduil with that sort of familiarity. Hallion’s eyes widened slightly when his king only laughed.

“I assure you, my lady, I will never dare to discuss any member of my family with any member of yours again. I fear another kinslaying if I do.”

Lindomiel laughed as well. “Too true.” Then she looked at Thranduil again. “Must I ask you to dance, my lord? Will you not ask me yourself? Your steward is the only person I have danced with tonight.”

The unreadable expression was cast Hallion’s way again. “Is that so? Well, we cannot have that,” he replied, standing and holding out his hand. Lindomiel took it and Hallion was left with Lindomiel’s friends.

He was shocked when he conversed with them through no less than five dances—Thranduil and Lindomiel did not return. Finally, Hallion decided the best course of action would simply be to ask one of Lindomiel’s other companions to dance. He did, and was surprised when he and his king spent nearly until dawn dancing and drinking wine with the four ellyth.

****

Elleth/ellyth--Female elf(s)
Adar/ada--Father/dad
Aran--King

Chapter 9: Consultations

The day after the festival found most of the inhabitants of Lothlorien sleeping very late and recovering from the previous night’s revelry. All except Thranduil. The King of Greenwood arose just before dawn no matter what time he retired. He always had. Like every morning, Thranduil watched the sun rise—this morning from the balcony of his flet in Lorien. But he scarcely saw it. His mind was on the stars…and how they looked reflected in Lindomiel’s eyes as he danced with her.

Thranduil was a fairly old elf. He had his share of interests in ladies and certainly enough ladies had shown interest in him. But Lindomiel…he could not turn his mind from her. And dancing with her…holding her…catching her hand or her waist while moving through the lively dances…looking into her eyes and seeing the excitement there…the slight flush on her cheeks…the life. That was it more than anything else, he realized suddenly. She was so alive. It made him feel alive. A feeling he was not sure he had felt since Dagorlad. And she gave him a sense of peace…contentment…he could not describe it. Harmony, perhaps. Regardless, he loved her company.

He shook himself, tried to turn his thoughts to anything else and failed.

Hallion normally joined his king in the morning as soon as the sun was fully in the sky. Today would be no exception. He knocked on the king’s door and entered.

“I do not believe we will be working this morning, my lord. The council was not scheduled to meet the day after the festival. But do you need for me to do anything for you?”

Thranduil’s eyes slowly focused on his steward. “Yes, why do you not sit down and deliver me your appraisal, Hallion?”

Hallion tensed. The wording of that request sounded angered and the king’s tone was unreadable. Hallion considered feigning ignorance, but immediately rejected that idea. Thranduil was direct and brutally honest and he did not appreciate anything less in others. Instead, Hallion sighed. “I am sorry if I have intruded on something you would prefer I had not, my lord. I admit I was curious. She seemed too young to be interesting and too nobly born to be a simple dalliance.”

“Sit down, Hallion,” Thranduil repeated. “I am not angry,” he said, though his tone was fairly stiff. “Tell me if your curiosity was satisfied.”

Hallion sat. “It was, I think, my lord. She seems to be very intelligent. I enjoyed speaking with her,” he said simply.

“Indeed. I do too.” Thranduil looked at his steward, his emotions now plain in his eyes.

Hallion struggled not to react. It was very rare for Thranduil to open up to anyone, though if he was going to do so, it would normally be to Hallion. Given the fact that Thranduil was apparently ready to discuss this, Hallion saw that Lindomiel was far more than a dalliance. The king’s eyes held a myriad of emotions—not the least of which were confusion and doubt. Hallion suddenly wondered if his king knew that the lady did indeed return his affections. It had certainly been obvious to him last night and she had clearly intended it to be. At that thought, Hallion laughed as the humor of being Thranduil Oropherion’s go-between struck him full force.

The king’s eyes narrowed. “Do you find something entertaining, Hallion?”

Hallion made a valiant effort to stop laughing and respond seriously. “No, Thranduil,” he said daring to slide into a more informal atmosphere. “I am simply very happy to see you finally falling in love. I feared, as did your Adar, that you never would allow yourself such comforts.”

Thranduil looked at him wryly. “I did not allow this or seek it. I find I cannot deny it.”

That forced Hallion to regard his king seriously. “Indeed?” he asked quietly. “Well that is certainly a good sign.” Then he smiled. “I am very happy for you. She is a lovely lady. She is young, but I have no doubt she will be a fine queen for Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil now looked slightly amused. “I think we must first determine if the lady in question even cares for me, Hallion.”

Hallion smiled broadly. “The lady definitely cares for you, Thranduil. She was quite upset that it was I and not you that had managed to escape the High Table and I noticed the stories of Doriath that interested her by far the most were ones that featured you and your Adar.”

Thranduil looked at Hallion sidelong. “I was an elfling in Doriath, Hallion.”

“Yes, I think she finds that amusing to contemplate.”

Thranduil smirked. “I am terrified to think what you told her.”

“You should be,” was the snide reply. “You were terribly behaved as an elfling, Thranduil.”

Chapter 10: Twin Blessings

After a somewhat tumultuous beginning, the summit turned out to be very productive. The elven lords discussed defense and trade and the exchange of knowledge such as medical skills and design and production of weaponry. Most importantly, though not as easily measured, they also came to know one another on a different level—as fellow rulers, not fellow warriors or friends. Or enemies.

Now that the council had drawn to its end, Thranduil found he had no desire to leave Lorien. His attention was very focused on a certain lovely attraction in this fair realm. One that he was meeting this afternoon for a picnic. When Lindomiel had suggested this activity, he happily agreed. The opportunity to get into the forest was very welcome and the prospect of doing so with her was even more pleasing. So, he waited for her on a bench in the courtyard where they had agreed to meet and let his mind wander as he did.

Thranduil was staring idly at some birds enjoying the berries on a nearby bush when the tranquility of the scene was shattered by two elflings. They came crashing through the bush, running and giggling as they went. They had a sack with them and expressions of pure mischief on their faces. When they spotted Thranduil looking at them with some alarm due to their dramatic entrance, they froze.

“Oh these two are up to something,’ the elvenking thought to himself, now eyeing them suspiciously.

“Hello,” the nearest child greeted. He was immediately echoed by the second.

Thranduil blinked at them. They were twins he suddenly realized. That was fairly rare amongst elves, so Thranduil concluded they were likely Elrond’s sons. He knew, of course, the elf lord had recently had two sons and these elflings would be about the right age. They looked to be around fifteen and Elrond’s sons would be fourteen or fifteen he thought he remembered. Now what were their names?

“I’m Elrohir,” the nearest child said.

“I’m Elladan,” the second added.

They were looking at Thranduil nervously now and he realized that he had not spoken yet. He tried to smile at them, though he was still suspicious of their comportment. “Mae govannen Elrondionnath.”

The children’s eyes widened at that, but they came trotting over to him willingly enough with the innocence of youth, trusting he must be friendly if he knew their father. So trusting that they climbed up onto the bench, one sitting next to him and taking his hand, the other climbing right into his lap. Thranduil smiled despite himself at that behavior. Elrond’s sons were clearly spoiled, no doubt doted upon by every adult in their realm given this behavior. Thranduil found himself strangely pleased by that. He knew that Elrond’s childhood had been no paradise. ‘Maglor! Valar, no wonder Elrond turned out the way he did,’ Thranduil thought.

“What is your name?” one of the twins asked. Thranduil found since the twins had moved, he could not tell them apart.

“Where are you from?” the other asked.

Thranduil’s smiled broadened. They were very adorable, looking up at him with wide, dark eyes. “My name is Thranduil. I’m from…”

“Eryn Galen,” they interrupted in unison. “You are the king of Eryn Galen,” the one in his lap said proudly. He had just correctly remembered a lesson, that was obvious. Thranduil laughed lightly at the idea that he was the subject of children’s lessons, wondering idly what else they had been taught about the King of Eryn Galen in their lessons.

“That is right,” Thranduil confirmed. “And you are the lords of Imladris. Terribly young lords to be here all alone. Does your adar know where you are?”

The children giggled at being referred to as ‘lords of Imladris.’

“No,” one said.

“Ada thinks we are in our room,” the other finished.

Thranduil’s eyes widened in amusement at how easily they admitted they were breaking their father’s rules. “Are you not afraid your adar will be concerned when he finds you missing? Do you have guards or a nanny? Where are they?”

That produced a wicked smile. “Yes. Both. We lost them,” one replied.

Thranduil laughed. “And what are you up to that required you to evade your nanny and your guards?”

“Nothing,” they chorused. The one on the bench nudged the one in Thranduil’s lap and then looked at Thranduil.

“Is it true that there are big spiders in Eryn Galen? Bigger than a dog?”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. “Near Amon Lanc, yes there are. And some are bigger than a horse.”

“Really?” came two astounded replies. “Do they like to be pets like dogs and horses?”

Thranduil snorted. “No, they do not. They are very dangerous, we have found.”

“Do you like spiders, Thranduil?”

Thranduil found he could not stop laughing at these children. “No, I cannot say that I do.”

“Are you afraid of them?”

“The ones near Amon Lanc, yes I am. Anyone should be. But ones like you will find here—no, I am not afraid of them, but I do not like them. Why? Did you children see a spider that frightened you?”

They shook their heads. “No, we like spiders."

Thranduil was suddenly very suspicious of that line of questioning, but had no time to think about it because Lindomiel was now approaching him with a basket. She had her hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh at the sight of the king buried in elflings.

“Good afternoon, Thranduil,” she said as she approached. “Who are your friends?”

Thranduil smiled at her. “These are Elrohir and Elladan. Lord Elrond’s sons.”

“Which of us is which?” they immediately challenged, looking expectantly at Thranduil. Lindomiel laughed.

Thranduil did as well. “I do not have the slightest idea, pen neth. I am sorry.”

They smiled mischievously. “That is alright.”

“No one can tell us apart except ada and nana.”

“We are supposed to wear different colors.”

Thranduil and Lindomiel noted they were both wearing nearly identical light blue robes. The king raised his eyebrows. “Rather like you are supposed to be in your room with your nanny and guards right now?”

“Exactly.”

The child in Thranduil’s lap looked at Lindomiel. “I am Elladan.”

The one on the bench turned to her. “I am Elrohir.”

As soon as they said that, they got up and went to inspect the picnic basket Lindomiel had put on the grass by the bench. They opened it and looked at its contents briefly. Thranduil just shook his head. Lindomiel sat on the bench next to the king and he kissed her hand, finally greeting her properly. This was not missed by the twins. They frowned.

“Erestor said you were not married, Thranduil,” one of the twins said. Thranduil realized he had already lost track of which was which again. This one climbed into his lap. Perhaps it was Elladan again. The other climbed into Lindomiel’s lap. She smiled and put her arms around the child automatically, drawing him against her safely.

“I am not married,” the king replied in response to the elfling’s comment.

“Who is this? Erestor said you have only one brother so it cannot be your sister.”

Lindomiel laughed. “My name is Lindomiel. I’m not related to Lord Thranduil. We are only friends.”

The twins’ eyes lit up at that. “Are you courting? Ada says Thranduil needs a wife.”

Lindomiel burst out laughing at that, looking at Thranduil with wide eyes. Thranduil bit his lip, trying valiantly to control his reaction.

“Does he indeed?" he asked with a slightly choked voice. "Did Lord Elrond tell you why he thinks I need a wife?”

“Ada says a wife would improve your disposition.” It didn’t sound as if the elfing had an entirely clear idea of what ‘disposition’ meant.

“He says you would be merrier if you had a wife,” added the second twin.

Thranduil’s eyebrows climbed at that. “So Lord Elrond does not think I am merry enough?”

“He says you are serious because your adar died in the war against Sauron.”

“He says that was very traumatic for you…to lose your adar. Our ada lost his adar too.” This was said with a careful pronunciation of the word ‘traumatic’ and a very grave face.

Thranduil indeed grew a little more serious hearing that assessment. “Is that so?”

The twins just nodded.

“Well, Lord Elrond is a very great healer so he must be right. If his prescription for me is that I find a wife, I suppose I had better take that seriously.”

“We are going to be healers too,” they said in unison. “But we do not want wives.”

Before Thranduil or Lindomiel could react to that beyond snickers, Elrond appeared on the far side of the courtyard. A frustrated growl announced his arrival. He stalked over to the bench with a very severe look on his face. The twins looked at each other with wide eyes and immediately snuggled closer to their respective protectors, arms around their waists.

“You two are in a good deal of trouble this time,” Elrond said with no preamble or acknowledgement of either adult. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“Ada, this is Aran Thranduil,” the child in Thranduil’s lap introduced helpfully, ignoring his father’s question.

Elrond stared at his son a moment before his eyes drifted to Thranduil’s face. The elvenking was red-faced from struggling not to laugh. He looked at his peer with bright, dancing eyes. Elrond composed his face in more neutral lines. “Thank you, Elrohir. I have met Aran Thranduil before. Would you care to tell me what you are doing in his lap rather in being in your room?”

“We are talking.”

“About the spiders in Eryn Galen.”

Elrond shot a look at Thranduil that clearly showed he did not approve of that topic of conversation. Thranduil looked back at him blandly. That had been the topic that was the least problematic in Thranduil’s view. But Elrond’s eyes had turned to the bag on Elladan’s shoulder.

“Elladan, get off Lindomiel’s lap and open that bag,” he ordered. The bag obviously meant something to Elrond.

With innocent eyes, Elladan complied. The bag was empty.

“Where are the spiders?” Elrond demanded. The children were silent. “I know there are spiders here somewhere. Where did you put them?” The children remained silent. Elrond’s mouth formed a hard line and he pointed at the adults on the bench. “That is the King of Eryn Galen and the Princess of Lorien. They are not your servants. We do not play pranks on visiting dignitaries.”

Thranduil snorted. That was probably a good rule.

“Now where are the spiders?” He still got no response. Angrily, he pulled Elrohir off Thranduil’s lap and addressed at the adults. “Stand up and turn around. Let me find the spiders.”

Thranduil laughed lightly. “My lord Elrond! All the children did was sit and talk with me. They do not have any spiders.”

Elrond smirked. “You are obviously not a father, Thranduil. I am telling you, there is a spider somewhere on both of you. I know my sons. Now would you like me to remove it?”

Thranduil stood. “If you find a spider on me, Elrond, I will eat it. Your sons are precocious, but they have not played any pranks on me.”

Lindomiel also stood with a bit of a squirmy, shaky, nervous dance, looking about her gown for anything that crawled. She saw nothing and Elrond was surprised to find nothing on Thranduil. He took a deep breath and looked at his sons appraisingly.

“Very well. Perhaps we caught you in time. March to your rooms. Straight there. So help me if you are not there when I get there you will regret it dearly.”

“Ada, what is precocious?”

Elrond frowned. “I will take you to the library and you may look it up. To your room. Now!”

Waving at Thranduil and Lindomiel, the elflings darted off. Thranduil watched them, laughing before he turned his eyes to Elrond. “I see that twins are a blessing from the Valar,” he said with as straight a face as he could muster.

Elrond rolled his eyes. “I would never have guessed how much work they could be. Celebrian says she will not have any more children unless I can guarantee no more twins.”

“They are adorable, Elrond. Very sweet.”

Elrond snorted. “I have not heard them described that way since they started to walk. Thank you, Thranduil. I hope they did not abuse you too badly. Everyone in Imladris is just another family member to them. They have no concept that not everyone wants elflings in their lap.”

Thranduil was smiling. “That is part of what makes them adorable, Elrond. That and their complete disregard for you. I asked them where they were supposed to be and who they were supposed to be with. They laughed and seemed very proud to be ignoring both strictures.”

“Yes, that sounds like my sons. They could not care less what my rules are. They drive me to distraction but I love them. They are my sons.”

“Indeed, I imagine they are that. If you will excuse me, I think I will go court some ladies. It seems I need a wife to make me merry,” Thranduil said with twinkling eyes, taking Lindomiel by the hand. She laughed outright.

Elrond stared at Thranduil, heat rising across his cheeks. “I beg your pardon, my lord Thranduil,” he said softly.

Thranduil laughed. “It is quite alright, Elrond. I have not had so illuminating a conversation during the any of the council meetings. I thoroughly enjoyed your sons’ insights.” He winked at Elrond, picked up the picnic basket and led Lindomiel away, chuckling softly.

It would be amusing to contemplate Elrond wondering what exactly his sons had said.

*~*~*

Lindomiel and Thranduil walked for a good distance before the elvenking stopped snickering. Lindomiel was no less amused.

“Children will say the most interesting things,” she commented with an overly nonchalant tone.

“Indeed!” Thranduil agreed.

Lindomiel giggled and began to spread a blanket under a tree. Thranduil helped her. They both sat, the basket between them. Lindomiel looked at Thranduil who was still laughing to himself.

“Except for that first day on the archery range, you certainly have seemed merry enough to me since you have been here.”

Thranduil smiled at her. “Perhaps I have found the medicine Elrond prescribed for me here,” he said before he really thought. When he realized what he said, he looked down, a little surprised with himself. He reached for the basket to begin to unpack it but she stilled his hands.

“Have you?” she asked with a fairly serious voice.

He looked back up at her. “I can say with confidence that I have been happier in your company than I have been since I was a very young child, Lindomiel. For certain, there is something about you that makes me very merry.”

She smiled and nodded her head, opening the basket herself and reaching in to take out the bread and cheese that she had packed. When she did, she jumped back with a squeal. Thranduil jumped involuntarily as well and looked at her. She had withdrawn her hands from the basket sharply as if something had burned her. Thranduil’s eyes flashed down. He saw several little field mice trying to scramble from the basket. Lindomiel took a deep, calming, breath.

“Mice!” she exclaimed with a hiss. “Those little monsters.”

Thranduil blinked as she dipped her hand in the basket, hastily scooping out the mice and depositing them on the ground. They scampered off fearfully. Lindomiel looked the angriest Thranduil had ever seen her.

“This is what they had in their bag,” she declared, pointing at the last mouse running into the trees. “I thought I felt Elladan doing something but I did not pay any attention because that is when they started talking about what Elrond had said.” Her eyes widened. “They did that on purpose. To distract us.”

Thranduil laughed at her discomposure over the mice. “Come now, my lady. They are fifteen year old elflings at the most. They could not have been so tricksy as to put the mice in the basket much less plot to distract us as they did it. The basket was on the ground and it had bread and cheese in it. The mice climbed in themselves.”

She scowled at him. “You are going to be far too trusting of a father. Those little rapscallions put mice in our picnic basket. What do you plan on eating now?”

He smiled at her indulgently. “We will enjoy the wine and get some food later when we return to the city.”

She wrinkled her nose. “What if those mice crawled in the goblets,” she asked, eyeing them distastefully as Thranduil pulled them out.

He laughed now. “They are just mice, Lindomiel. You will not die just because one touched you,” he said as he reached to his belt for his dagger to help him remove the cork from the wine bottle.

As he did, an enormous, from his point of view, black, hairy spider crawled out of the pocket of his robe and right onto his hand. He felt it before he saw it. When he looked down to see what was tickling his hand, he loosed a yelp that made Lindomiel jump back automatically. Thranduil jumped too—up and away from his previous location shaking his hand violently. The spider flew off it and onto the ground at his feet. He jumped back again, staring at it as if it were the Enemy himself.

Lindomiel burst into laughter. “It is only a spider, Thranduil. You will not die just because one touched you,” she mimicked.

He glared at her, nudging the spider along with his boot. It scurried away. “Come to Eryn Galen. You will die if the spiders there touch you. Valar, I despise spiders. They are revolting.”

Lindomiel nearly fell over onto the grass she laughed so hard. “It is a good thing Elrond did not find it on you. I might still go catch it and make you eat it.”

Thranduil’s face contorted in disgust at that thought and then he looked back towards the city. “Those little terrors. They did that. They did have spiders!” He sounded completely incredulous.

Lindomiel was gasping for air. “Oh Thranduil. Your children are going to eat you alive!”

“No child of mine will ever behave like that!”

Lindomiel raised her eyebrows and looked at Thranduil airily but unable to disguise the amusement in her eyes. “Well from what Lord Hallion told me, if your children were to act like that, they would come by it honestly.”

Thranduil turned wide, astonished eyes on her. “Pray, what did Lord Hallion tell you?”

She laughed lightly. “All sorts of interesting exploits from your youth in Menegroth.”

“Valar!” Thranduil whispered disgustedly.

*************

AN: Remember that elflings mature much more slowly than mortal children--they do not come of age until they are 50 and Tolkien says some don't reach their full stature until they are 100. In the year this is set, TA 144, Elladan and Elrohir would be 14. That would make them approximately 5 years old  (if you assume a ratio of 50 elf years to 21 mortal years) . The twins are not going to be pranksters (entirely) in this story. They are just young and having fun in this chapter.

*************

Mae govannen--Well met
Adar/Ada--Father/dad
pen neth--young one
Aran--King

Chapter 11: Memories

Lindomiel and Thranduil enjoyed their picnic, or at least the parts untainted by mice and spiders, and finally headed back to the city. The king was hesitant to part company with her this afternoon, since he was scheduled to leave Lothlorien the next day. Unfortunately they both had obligations to see to that afternoon, so their parting could not be avoided. As he left her at her flet, Lindomiel happily agreed to meet him for a walk that evening however and that gave Thranduil something to look forward to as he concluded his business.

As he went about his affairs, Thranduil spied Amroth, Amglaur and Celeborn seated under Celeborn's flet, having an animated conversation. It appeared to be casual and not related to affairs of state, so Thranduil paused for a moment and considered joining them. He had thoroughly enjoyed seeing his cousin Celeborn at this summit. When Celeborn caught sight of him and waved him over, Thranduil was all too happy to take a moment and visit with him despite the presence of Amglaur.

Celeborn smiled at him warmly as he approached, but he had a bit of a surprised and reproachful air to his expression as well. "Thranduil, Amglaur has just told me that you are scheduled to leave tomorrow! Surely you were not going back to Eryn Galen without even speaking to me?"

Thranduil looked at Amglaur sidelong. "Why does it not surprise me that Amglaur is well informed of my departure schedule," Thranduil said dryly. Amglaur returned his gaze placidly. The king returned his focus to his cousin. "Of course I planned on coming to say my farewells this afternoon, Celeborn."

Celeborn looked at him a little sadly. "I have truly enjoyed seeing you here, Thranduil. I sincerely hope that you will allow me the contact with my kin that your adar would not. We have very little family left. We should not be sundered."

Thranduil looked down. "My adar would never have turned you out of Eryn Galen, Celeborn," he said softly.

Celeborn laughed a little incredulously. "He moved his capital because he did not like that I was in Lorien! Forgive me if I did not feel welcome in Eryn Galen."

Thranduil grimaced now. "If that is what you heard, it is not true. Adar did not move the capital because you were in Lorien, Celeborn." His voice lowered a little. "Although your wife's presence here might have been a small factor." Celeborn adopted a 'see what I mean' posture and Thranduil's frown deepened. "He moved the capital because of the growing danger in the south. He would never have turned a Prince of Doriath from Eryn Galen and neither would I. You are always welcome in my home, Celeborn."

Celeborn eyed him coolly. "But my wife is not."

Thranduil scowled and looked away. "I did not say that." He fixed Celeborn with a stern look. "I do not like Lady Galadriel, Celeborn. I have the impression that she longs for a realm of her own and I would not trust her in such a position. Not even with you beside her because I think you are blind to her faults." He laughed bitterly. "I think you lost your mind to marry her. I will never understand that choice. But," he paused for emphasis. "I do respect your choice. And, though it pains me greatly to admit it, I learned some interesting information from your wife in this summit. I recognize her value as an ally against the Evil One and we need all of those we can find. I will not turn my back on useful resources. Even if they are the half niece of Feanor."

"So does that mean I can come to Eryn Galen with my wife or not, Thranduil," Celeborn asked, laughing lightly.

Thranduil snorted. "You and your wife are welcome in Eryn Galen. Just do not expect me to spend time alone with her."

Celeborn laughed. "Put you two in a room alone! Who would be foolish enough to do that?"

Amglaur smirked. "Might be worthwhile," he said softly with a snide tone. From his expression it was obvious that he was contemplating the damage the two powerful elves would do to each other. Contemplating it with some glee.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and looked at Amglaur disdainfully. Suddenly, he remembered an interesting topic and his eyes slid from Amglaur to Celeborn. "So, cousin, perhaps now would be a good time to explain that comment you made on Yestarë about Amglaur and my adar. Something about their competitions?"

Amroth snorted, his eyes lighting up as Amglaur's expression soured instantly. He glared at Celeborn.

Celeborn looked caught. "Someday I will learn to keep my mouth shut," he muttered glancing between Amglaur and Thranduil.

Amroth was all too willing to tease his uncle with this topic, however. "Oh I remember many stories about Amglaur and Oropher that my adar told me," he began merrily. Amglaur turned wide, astonished eyes on his nephew, shocked by his apparently eager betrayal. "It seems that Oropher and his brother Engwe, Celeborn and his brother Galathil and my adar and his brother were quite the terrors in Doriath. I heard Oropher was the elfling everyone's parents feared their child would be friends with."

"My adar!" Thranduil exclaimed, completely stunned by that.

Celeborn was laughing ruefully. "Your adar was adventurous, Thranduil. He inspired a few activities that not all the parents thought were entirely safe or appropriate for noble elves."

Thranduil blinked. "My adar?!" he repeated. "My adar gave me lectures so stern that he could bring me to tears when I was forty...nearly fifty. He had no tolerance for misbehavior. Of any nature."

"That was experience," Amglaur said dryly. "He understood the potential for danger and he did not want his sons to give him the same grief he gave his parents. And I am sure he heard enough of that manner of lecture that he was fairly skilled at delivering them."

Thranduil looked at Amglaur coolly. "Did Amroth not mention that you ran with this pack of wolves? Pray tell, what was your role? You must have been the child everyone hoped their son would be friends with. A fine influence, no doubt."

"I was indeed," Amglaur replied seriously.

Celeborn exploded with laughter. "If you truly believe that, you are deluded, Amglaur. Was it not you and Amdir that led us all on that fishing expedition that nearly ended with Galathil's death? I do not think my adar wanted me any where near you after that and I was over one hundred. He would not even let Galathil speak to you."

"Galathil took unnecessary risks. I told him the rocks in that spot were too slippery, but he wanted to go there because there were more fish and he had not caught as many as me."

Amroth was laughing. "I remember this story. Amglaur caught more fish, but Oropher caught the biggest one," he chimed in.

Celeborn smirked. "And they argued the relative merits of each outcome all the way home while poor Galathil limped along between them with a broken ankle. He was ready to shove all your fish down your respective throats to measure who caught the most fish that way."

Amglaur looked at Celeborn disdainfully. "That is but one example of any idea of mine that led us to trouble. And I still say that was Galathil's own fault. Oropher, on the other hand, designed that insane horseracing course. That was the activity that angered the most parents in Doriath. Elu Thingol had to put an end to it."

Thranduil's jaw dropped. "My adar did something that the High King had to intervene to stop?!"

"Indeed. Disgraceful really."

Again Celeborn laughed heartily. "Might you feel that way because you fell off your horse and broke your leg and collarbone on that course."

Thranduil bit his lip to stifle a laugh. "You fell off your horse?" he asked. He could not suppress the laughter in his voice.

Amglaur glared at Celeborn a moment and then looked down his nose at Thranduil. "The course was ridiculously dangerous and Oropher purposefully mislead me regarding what conditions to expect."

"What was this race course like?" Thranduil asked, still laughing.

Celeborn snorted. "As I am sure you know, Thranduil, your adar loved horses. He had just been given an enormous chestnut stallion. It was a monster. The most mean spirited horse I have ever seen to date. The only person that could approach it was your adar."

"Yes, imagine that," Amglaur said in a soft, airy voice.

Celeborn laughed. "At any rate, that horse could jump anything. It was so agile and Oropher rode it like they were part of one another. Your adar took one of the paths we had made through the forest for hunting--a very winding one--and he put obstacles through out it, even in the turns. And not just logs or stones to jump. He dug holes too so you had to watch carefully. His special favorite was to put jumps under low hanging branches. It really was insane. We would go through it and see who could do it the fastest. And then we would change the conditions--move a jump, add another. It was fun, but there is no denying it was dangerous." He looked at Amglaur. "Needless to say, no one could set up an obstacle course through the path that Oropher and that horse could not win. He won every single race every time we raced. The second best time was what the rest of us competed for."

Thranduil looked impressed by that. "So why did Aran Thingol intervene?"

"Amglaur was not the only person injured. The guards and staff members were turning up unfit for duty. His courtier's sons and daughters were breaking bones. Horses were injured. He finally heard enough complaints, so he told us to take all the obstacles off the path and not recreate it."

Thranduil laughed. "I cannot imagine what adar would have done to me if I had done anything to attract the High King's attention."

"None of our parents were easy to live with after that for a good while...and we were adults," Celeborn reflected with a far off look, obviously remembering the experience. Then he put his hand on Thranduil's shoulder and looked at Amglaur mischievously. "But yes, everything your adar did, Amglaur had to do and everything Amglaur tried, your adar was right on his heels.  And more often than not, each found a reason to declare themself the winner of each contest and then proceed to argue their case. It was quite silly really."

"If anyone was silly, it was Oropher. He could never concede defeat," Amglaur said icily. "If you will excuse me, I think I have had enough discussion of Oropher for one day." He bowed and walked away in an overly dignified manner. Amroth laughed, shook his head, said his quick goodbyes and followed his uncle. As they walked away, it seemed Amroth was intent on continuing to tease Amglaur, for the older elf's pace quickened noticeably.

Celeborn watched their backs and laughed. Then he looked at Thranduil. "Do you truly know nothing of your adar's competitions with Amglaur?" he asked with sincere curiosity.

Thranduil shook his head. "Not a thing. I never had an impression from adar that he knew Amglaur well."

Celeborn laughed shortly, looking at Thranduil with wide eyes. "Well, then perhaps you should know, since I hear you have taken an interest in Lindomiel, that your adar and Amglaur most often competed for the attention of ladies. That was a contest your adar very rarely lost, much to Amglaur's annoyance. Oropher's chief victory in that respect was Dieneryn."

Thranduil's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Celeborn nodded. "Indeed. And that was no trifle. They both had fallen for her and she chose your adar. Neither Oropher or Amglaur played at that game because they were both truly in love. Amglaur accepted Diereryn's decision with true grace. Perhaps your naneth showed how wise she was, despite her youth, with her choice because Amglaur and Limmiel are perfectly suited for one another. But I confess that I am surprised that Amglaur has let Thranduil Oropherion anywhere near his daughter."

Thranduil shook his head. "Hearing that, so am I," he said softly.

***********

Yestarë--Elven New Year
Adar/ada--Father/dad
Aran--King

Chapter 12: Taking Leave

Later that evening, Thranduil was returning to the bench in the courtyard where he had earlier encountered Elrond’s sons. Again he was to meet Lindomiel there, this time for their walk. As he approached, he spied Elrond on the bench reading in the fading light and clearly enjoying the cool spring evening air. He smirked and decided to have word with him about his young twin nightmares while he waited for Lindomiel.

“Mae govannen, hir Elrond,” Thranduil said politely.

Elrond looked up with surprise from his book. He and Thranduil had found the ability to work together at this summit but he did not expect the king to engage in social conversation with him. And he was more than a little embarrassed by what his sons had repeated. “Mae govannen, hir Thranduil,” he said with a polite smile.

Thranduil looked down and smiled himself. 'Well, are we not just the picture of courteous manners,’ he thought to himself before turning to the topic he wanted to use to tease his peer. “Did you speak with your sons about evading their nanny and guards?” he began innocently.

Elrond was not to be fooled for a minute. He knew his sons well. His face took on a knowing look immediately. “You found the spider, did you not?”

Thranduil glared now, though it was not the withering look that caused courtiers to cringe. It was more playful. “Indeed. I despise spiders. I told them that.”

Elrond nodded. “That is why they put it on you then. In your pocket?” he asked.

Thranduil nodded. “Yes,” he replied dryly. “And Lindomiel found mice in the picnic basket,” he added.

Elrond frowned, but his eyes were bright with poorly concealed amusement. “I apologize for my sons. And they will come apologize to both you and Lindomiel tomorrow. Right now they are occupied by an essay on the dangers of becoming lost in unfamiliar forests.” He sighed. “Please understand they are still very young and this trip has been a little too exciting for them.”

Thranduil smiled. “I fear I leave tomorrow at dawn, lord Elrond, so I will have to forego their apology. But no harm was done, so it matters not. And I do understand they are young and exuberant. I just thought I would tease you about it a little. After all, I want to be sure you know that I am sufficiently merry.”

Elrond laughed involuntarily at that, looking down. “I will never live that down, will I?”

“Certainly not,” Thranduil replied promptly but with obvious good humor.

Elrond nodded. “I deserve it. We hardly know each other well enough for me to presume, but you should heed my advice just the same. We are finally in times of peace. I speak from experience that marriage is a true blessing.”

“That from a newlywed,” Thranduil observed. “I am happy for you, Elrond.”

Elrond looked at Thranduil with a surprised but pleased expression. “Thank you, Thranduil.” He looked at the king of Greenwood cautiously, trying to weigh whether his apparently friendly attitude was stable enough to push into deeper topics of conversation. He decided to try. “So you depart tomorrow. Did you accomplish what you hoped to here?”

Thranduil appeared to think about that seriously and sat next to Elrond on the bench. “I think so. Amroth and I established some agreements before the summit began and I think the summit itself created some potential benefits for Eryn Galen at least.” He frowned. “Honestly, I think the most interesting aspect of this meeting for me was speaking with you and Cirdan. I knew Amroth and Celeborn perfectly well, of course, but adar welcomed very little contact with any of the other realms.”

Elrond did not care to tread on the dangerous ground of commentary on Oropher, so he turned to a more personal topic. “We do not know each other well, do we?”

“Hardly at all, I fear.”

“Why is that, Thranduil,” Elrond ventured in a soft voice. “We are cousins, though less closely related than you and Celeborn. I remember as a child in Sirion you seemed much less distant than you do now. Did I offend you somehow at some point?”

Thranduil smiled at Elrond sadly. “In Sirion, my lord, when you were a child there with Lady Elwing, we looked upon you as the heir of Elu Thingol and Dior.”

Elrond shook his head. “So it goes back to that. I suppose that by the time we reached Lindon and I began to serve Gil-galad, you could not forgive the course my life had taken. I am descended from the High Kings in the House of Fingolfin. It was natural for me to serve his court.”

Thranduil looked at Elrond evenly. “I am perfectly aware of that, Elrond. I was frankly shocked that you did not take the title of High King of the Noldor. I admit I was relieved as well. I feel compelled to remind you that as Elwing’s descendent, you had equal claim to the title of High King of the Sindar on Dior’s death.”

Elrond laughed ruefully. “It would be a very dark day when you named me your king, Thranduil.”

Thranduil grinned at him. “I fear that three millennia in Eryn Galen has left me quite unwilling to name anyone my king. These Silvan elves have given me quite a preference for my independence.”

“I definitely see that," Elrond replied, also smiling, "but I count this summit as a success because I am leaving it with the hope that the four elven realms will continue to work together throughout this age.”

Thranduil nodded solemnly to that. “Indeed. I have hope for that as well. Persuading my people of the value of it may not always be easy and as Amroth observed, the power of the Enemy is in his ability to divide us, but we do leave here with hope for ourselves.”

Elrond's eyes drifted over to a figure approaching along the path. “And you have hope for unions of another kind, I think.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and followed the direction of Elrond’s gaze. His whole countenance softened when he caught sight of Lindomiel and Elrond had trouble suppressing a smirk. “Would you mind excusing me, Lord Elrond?” he said distractedly, standing.

“Not at all, Thranduil. I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

Thranduil looked back down at Elrond sharply. “Are you planning a trip to Eryn Galen?” he asked with confusion.

Elrond returned his gaze blandly. “I will certainly travel for my cousin’s wedding,” he responded casually.

Thranduil snorted at that. “Then perhaps I should go find a bride,” he replied smirking at Elrond for a moment before turning to meet Lindomiel.

*~*~*

Thranduil  and Lindomiel walked along the paths talking for several hours. Thranduil related to her the stories Celeborn had told him—withholding any unflattering details about Amglaur—and concluded by confessing that if Oropher had been a terror in Menegroth and he had been one in both Menegroth and Sirion, there was a distinct possibility that his own children might be difficult to manage as well. They had a few laughs over that topic of conversation.

Finally, they sat on the bench by the shallow pools near the waterfall. It was dark and Thranduil found himself captivated by the way the glittering moonlight played off Lindomiel’s hair and lit her ivory skin. Sitting on the bench, in the silence of the night, he could hear only the twilight murmurings of the trees and the song that was Lindomiel’s gentle presence. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree behind the bench, feeling its strength and ancient wisdom. The King of Eryn Galen had not felt this in harmony with the world around him since before Dagorlad…before he had come to Eryn Galen…before his family had fled Menegroth. ‘No,’ he thought with a slight frown. ‘I have simply never felt this way before at all.’ He looked over at the elleth sitting next to him and was somewhat startled to see her looking at him intently. He looked down and took her hand from the bench to hold between both of his.

“Your lord father mentioned the night we had dinner that he might bring you and your lady mother to visit Dieneryn this summer. Do you happen to know if he is still thinking of doing that?” he asked softly.

“Thranduil,” she scolded softly with a smile, “Do I really have such an affect on you that I reduce you to such subterfuges as that? You are much more direct, I think. Nana may very well wish to visit the Queen of Eryn Galen, but we both know why ada wants to visit your realm.”

Thranduil snorted softly and shook his head without looking up. “Will he bring you?” he asked simply.

“He will or I will come myself. I am an adult, Thranduil. I make my own choices. And I am very interested to see Eryn Galen.” She paused and then continued in a mischievous voice, “Especially since you refuse to tell me a thing about it.”

He looked at her seriously. “I want you to form your own opinions of Eryn Galen, Lindomiel. It is very different from the Golden Wood. Naturally, I love it. The picture I paint of it may leave you disappointed with the reality. I think it best for you to see it yourself.”

Lindomiel smiled teasingly now. “You realize, of course, that my adar has not shown such restraint. He has painted quite a vivid picture of Eryn Galen as a deep, dark, heavy, ominous elf-eating tangle of treacherous old trees that would plot the demise of an innocent elleth like myself. I fear I will disappear never to be heard from again while I am there.”

Thranduil smiled despite his best effort to look insulted. “I know he has done that and when you see my forest is nothing like that, it will only look more beautiful to you.”

She laughed at that. “Of course, more than the forest, ada says I should fear the elves in it. Chiefly, there is you and that is horrible enough—may the Valar save those poor Silvan elves for look at the king they must endure! But in addition to that, there is your brother and Oropher’s brother and your cousins. The House of Oropher—a pit of orcs to hear my adar tell it. All to be feared as temperamental, overbearing, stern, ferocious monsters.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes and grinned. “Again, I think it is best to allow you to form your own opinions, my lady.”

She laughed now. “You are being quite patient with all my adar’s commentary. I am not joking, you know. He really is telling me this.”

He only smiled at her. “I find very little upsets me in your presence, my lady,” he said placidly.

She burst out laughing. “Oh, you are ridiculous!” she exclaimed, slapping his arm.

His expression only grew brighter. “Perhaps I am. Hallion seems to think so.” He paused. “But I am looking forward to having you as a guest in Eryn Galen, whether I am ridiculous or not.”

She smiled warmly. “I look forward traveling there. It will be quite an adventure, I am sure.”

*~*~*

As the king of Eryn Galen prepared for bed his last night in Lothlorien, he thought about all he had accomplished here. The summit concluded largely to the satisfaction of the participants. Good information was exchanged and agreements were made regarding key points of common interest. The elven lords agreed to meet again after another yén had passed to build upon the progress made at this council. That was good.

Even better was what he had learned about the people here.  It was wonderful to see his cousin Celeborn again. He and Celeborn had always seen fairly eye to eye and been similar in personality. The only thing that had ever stood between them was Galadriel. Thranduil only begrudgingly tolerated her.

Of all the elven leaders it was his dealings with Elrond that interested him the most. Before this council, Thranduil had never had much of an opinion of Elrond one way or another. He knew him very poorly. They had very little contact with each other in Sirion, though Thranduil showed him the respect owed the heir of the High King when they did meet. After Elrond began to serve Gil-galad, their contact was even more sporadic. Oropher had refused, politely but quite undeniably, to serve Gil-galad in any way. The first time Thranduil had any true interaction with Elrond was in the war against Sauron. Thranduil begrudgingly admitted Elrond was one of the least offensive people he had to work with in that war. The Lord of Imladris was a fine warrior and an effective leader. But he was a healer at heart and his compassion for the pain Thranduil felt leading his father’s army for so long while at the same time grieving his loss touched the new king more than he was willing to acknowledge at the time.

During this summit, Thranduil felt the need to establish that he would not be any more willing to be ruled than his father had been. At the same time, he could not deny that he would rather work with Elrond, Amroth and Cirdan than be isolated and Elrond did seem willing to make that easy for him. That surprised and pleased him

Of course in Thranduil’s mind, the most promising discovery from this summit was Lindomiel. Again this development had surprised the king. He had certainly not come to Lothlorien to catch the eye of maidens or be ensnared himself. Nevertheless, Thranduil could not deny that he was completely lost over Lindomiel. But he was still being practical—he was quite serious about the idea of Lindomiel coming to Greenwood and forming her own judgments about it. She was a very young elleth. She had never traveled outside Lothlorien and there was no way to say that she would like what she found in Greenwood. The forests were indeed very different. Thranduil did not care to raise his hopes too far until she came to visit him. Thankfully, she would be there at the end of this season.

******

Mae govannen--Well met.
Hir--Lord
Adar/ada--Father/dad
elleth--female elf

Chapter 13: Festivals

Thranduil waited at the foot of the stairs that led to the set of flets that formed the household of the royal family. Hallion was escorting his guests, Amglaur and his family, to him at that very moment and Thranduil was a war of mixed emotions. He did not like Amglaur now any more than when he first met him and maintaining a sense of decorum with him that would be acceptable in his own Court promised to be challenging. But he had enjoyed the company of Amglaur’s wife and most especially his daughter during his visit to Lothlorien. He hoped that Lindomiel would enjoy her stay in Eryn Galen. Enjoy it enough to be interested in living here, perhaps. Time would tell. He straightened automatically upon seeing Amlgaur and his party approach.

“My Lord, the Prince and Princess of Lothlorien and their daughter, the Princess Lindomiel,” Hallion announced the guests formally.

Thranduil bowed slightly, as did Amglaur and they greeted each in the traditional elven manner, bringing their hand to their chest and swinging it down and out.

“Mae govannen, Ernil Amglaur. Gil síla erin lu e-govaded vín.”

“Mae govannen, Aran Thranduil o Eryn Galen,” responded Amglaur formally and he began to introduce the rest of the members of his staff. Thranduil recognized most of them from his visit to Lothlorien. Thranduil in turn introduced his advisors to Amglaur. Then he presented his younger brother, Aradunnon, who Amglaur had met briefly in the past. Finally he presented his mother, who was smiling warmly at the prince.

Amglaur and his wife returned the smile. Dropping all pretense of formality, they embraced the Queen Mother of Eryn Galen.

“Dieneryn, it is such a joy to see you again. It has been far too long,” Limmiel exclaimed, keeping her arms around her cousin. “You cannot continue burying yourself in the Wood. You must come more often to Lorien.”

Dieneryn smiled, winked at her son and began to lead Limmiel and Amglaur off, an arm around each of their waists. “You know what responsibility is, I think, Limmiel,” Thranduil heard his mother say as she relieved him of the one person he did not care to see.

Thranduil smiled. This left him very free to speak to the person he did wish to see. “My lady, I trust your trip was pleasant,” he said, interrupting her amused gaze towards her father and mother. She turned a smile towards Thranduil. It was truly radiant. As he had so often in Lothlorien, Thranduil found himself a little breathless in her presence.

“As pleasant as a week’s ride can be, my lord. I cannot say I have ever traveled for that long before. I am glad to be here.”

Thranduil offered her his arm. “Since my Naneth has absconded with your parents, allow me to show you to your room so you can relax a bit before dinner. We will have a bit of a festival tonight on the lawn in honor of your family's arrival.” He guided her into the trees and the servants that had been present to perform the duties that their king and queen now carried out themselves stared with some confusion at their masters’ backs.

*~*~*

By the time the guests from Lothlorien had refreshed themselves, the lawn in front of the royal household was set with tables laden with food. Roast pheasant, wild boar, venison, breads, fruits, pies of both meat and fruit…the variety would please any palette and the quantity would satisfy any appetite. Happy to accept any excuse for merrymaking, the Silvan elves that lived in the capital turned out in force to enjoy the food, music, dancing and opportunity to see the visitors from Lothlorien. Visitors, especially foreign dignitaries, were not particularly common in Greenwood. As such, everyone was curious to see who they were.

Conversation flowed rather pleasantly at the High Table as the feast was served. Thranduil was seated in the middle of the table and to his right were his mother, brother and advisors. Amglaur sat to Thranduil’s left, which was, of course, an appropriate courtesy although it made Thranduil tense. Next to Amglaur were his wife, daughter and a pair of ladies that had traveled with Lindomiel--Amoneth and Gwedhieth. The three young maidens attracted a fair share of interested stares from the lower tables, a fact not missed by Thranduil. He could not help but feel a pang of jealousy, wishing that he could enjoy the lovely sights as easily as the elves on the lawn. Instead, he made polite conversation with Amglaur.

“This wine is outstanding, Thranduil. Where ever do you get it? You cannot make it yourselves?” Amglaur asked with genuine interest.

Thranduil directed a satisfied smirk at his guest. “I wish that we could. But nay, I buy it from the Mannish villages in a region to the Northeast called Dorwinion. We discovered them quite by accident when following some criminals.” He grinned. “Its expensive, but it is one luxury that I am willing to indulge in. I fear I have become quite accustomed to it.”

“I can understand that. We will fight over how many barrels I plan on stealing from you before I leave, I am certain.”

Several of the elves present laughed at that and Thranduil looked at Amglaur with some mischief in his eyes.

Finally, the dining began to slow and minstrels played in one area of the lawn for dancing while some contests began in another. Thranduil danced the opening dance with Limmiel, as was his obligation as host. He noticed that Amglaur danced with Dieneryn, which brought an involuntary smile to Thranduil’s lips for two reasons. The primary one was that his mother took part in the merrymaking far too infrequently. He certainly understood that but he was happy to see her dancing. The second reason Thranduil smiled was that he could not get Celeborn’s story out of his head.

Lindomiel danced the first dance with Thranduil's brother, Aradunnon. That also made Thranduil smile. Hallion and his brother had been the only people in whom Thranduil had confided his interest in the lady from Lothlorien. He appreciated his brother’s obvious assistance in both entertaining and protecting the lady. And he was certain Aradunnon was also using this dance to appraise her as Hallion had in Lothlorien. Of course, Lindomiel was certainly appraising Aradunnon as well. That would be entertaining, Thranduil thought. He and his brother were very different.

Like his mother, Thranduil also did not dance often at banquets. He never had, even before his father’s death. He simply was not yet ready to bind himself to anyone and he saw no point in giving any of the maidens in Greenwood the impression that he favored them. Because he rarely danced much beyond those dances required by etiquette, eyebrows raised when Thranduil immediately approached the visiting princess from Lothlorien for the second dance.

Lindomiel wore a flowing gown the color of delicate spring leaves. It was embroidered with gold thread. The light of the lanterns and the full moon reflected off the embroidery and her hair such that she fairly glittered as she twirled with the dancers. Thranduil saw only the light in her eyes and her bright smile as she laughed, completely enthralled by the magic of the music. The king found himself captivated.

After the first dance, Amglaur escorted Dieneryn back to the High Table at her request, seating her and then himself. She smiled at him. "Do not feel obligated to sit, Amglaur. I am perfectly comfortable by myself and Thranduil will join me shortly. He always does."

Amglaur looked at Thranduil dancing with Lindomiel. "I would not count on that," he said under his breath before adding in a stronger voice. "I had hoped to sit and talk with you if you do not mind the company. If you would prefer to be alone, do not hesitate to tell me."

Dieneryn smiled at him. "You know I do not mind the company, Amglaur. Though it has been a very long time since we last met, we are still friends, I hope."

Amglaur smiled at that. "I hope so as well, Dieneryn," he said softly in a tone that would have astonished Thranduil had he been there to hear it. He had never heard anything but gruffness from Amglaur. Then the prince's expression became serious. "I have not yet had a chance to speak to you about..." he hesitated and looked down.

Dieneryn visibly braced herself for the topic of conversation that she knew would follow.

Without looking up, Amglaur continued in a soft voice, "Oropher and I were more rivals than friends, but when Amdir, Amroth and I realized he had fallen, we were..." he sighed. "It is hard to explain, Dieneryn. I did not like him, but we felt so lost without him. It just did not seem possible. He was such a presence. It was a terrible blow. As I am sure it was to you. How do you fare? Limmiel and I have been very concerned for you."

Dieneryn sighed quietly. "I am as well as I can be, Amglaur. I am devastated, of course. It was nearly impossible not to sail. I am certain I would have faded if not for my sons. Before they returned, I held on to the hope that they would survive the war as their adar had not. I had to know that they did survive and I promised myself that I would sail as soon as I saw them once more. When they did come back to the wood, I realized I could not leave them...especially Thranduil. This has been more difficult for him than you can possibly imagine. His father was so central in his life and of course he holds himself responsible for everything."

Amglaur nodded. "Yes. We could all see that during the war." Amglaur frowned. "I am sorry, Dieneryn, but it is hard for me to like Thranduil. He reminds me so much of Oropher. Nevertheless, I will grant you that he led us exceedingly well during the war."

Dieneryn smirked. "I wondered how you and Thranduil got along--both during the war and the summit. He has been fairly tight lipped about the summit. He did not even inform us that you planned a visit here until this week--which came as a great surprise to me. I take it that you and Thranduil did not find much common ground during the summit?"

"On the contrary, we have far too much in common in my opinion," he replied coldly, eyes turning to glare at Thranduil and Lindomiel, still dancing.

Dieneryn looked at Amglaur sharply. She could plainly tell there was more to that statement than met the eye. "You and Oropher had a great deal in common as well, yet you never got along," she observed.

"Exactly," Amglaur replied cryptically.

Now Dieneryn studied Amglaur openly.

Amglaur turned his attention back to his old friend. "So tell me about your son, Dieneryn. Has he more of you in him than I have seen?"

Dieneryn laughed. "I do not know, Amglaur. I never understood what you found so distasteful about Oropher. He was strong-willed, sharp, passionate...those terms all describe my son as well. They also describe you."

"I always thought Oropher was very self-centered," Amglaur said irritably.

"Oropher wanted what he wanted, but he dedicated his life to Eryn Galen for the last three millennia. He was not selfish."

"Did he make you happy, Dieneryn?" Amglaur asked directly.

Dieneryn's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon," she replied, openly offended.

Amglaur did not flinch. "I mean to know, Dieneryn. Did he make you happy?"

"I have never heard a more inappropriate question in my entire life! How dare you ask such a thing? Oropher and I were married for over three and a half millennia. You and Limmiel have been married for the same amount of time. You want a lesson in respect for your wife, Amglaur."

Amglaur frowned. "I love Limmiel, Dieneryn. I am not asking you this because I still feel spurned, for pity's sake. But I will know the answer. Did he make you happy? Was he capable of putting your needs before his? After all, he dragged you to Eryn Galen..."

Dieneryn cut him off with an outraged cry. "I have no intention of listening to this. He most certainly did make me happy. He loved me. There was absolutely nothing that he would not have done for me. He did not drag me to Eryn Galen. He left Lindon because I did not like living there. I missed Neldoreth and Region--I longed for the forest. He made this trip because he wanted more for Thranduil then a life enmeshed in the doom of the Noldor. He wanted peace for his family and his people. He took upon himself the responsibility of leading almost a hundred of us here. He did that not for himself, Amglaur. Nor did he agree to rule the Silvan for his own glory. He did it because he was asked. How dare you ask me if he made me happy?"

Amglaur looked away. "Because I have to know if his son can make my daughter happy."

Dieneryn blinked. "Excuse me?"

Amglaur raised his eyebrows. "Thranduil did not even mention to you that he spent his time during the summit courting my daughter?"

Dieneryn's jaw dropped slightly and she shook her head. Her eyes swept over the green, searching out her son who was indeed still dancing a second dance with Lindomiel. "No, he did not mention that," she replied softly, watching them.

Amglaur frowned. "And therein lies my concern. How much could he possibly care for her if he did not even mention meeting her to his own naneth?"

"Thranduil does not discuss his private life, Amglaur, not even with me. He would never have mentioned such a thing to me--much less if he was serious," she said quietly. Then she looked back at Amglaur and laughed. "My son and your daughter? Now that I would have never expected! Oropher would return from Mandos this moment if he could prevent this."

"I would welcome him back as a dear friend if he could help me prevent this," Amglaur retorted coldly.

Dieneryn looked at him with clear disapproval. "You would not stand in the way of your own daughter's happiness for some sort of twisted revenge on Oropher? You do not even know Thranduil."

"Of course not," he replied quickly. "But I will take more care with my daughter than your parents took with you. I will know Thranduil and his realm. I will be absolutely certain that Thranduil will be devoted to my daughter before I will consent to anything."

Dieneryn smiled. "I would expect nothing less," she replied evenly. "And you know, my father did the same."

Amglaur's mouth formed a hard line. "Perhaps," he responded evenly, eyes on Thranduil and Lindomiel as the king led her away from the dancers to get some wine. He resolutely turned away from the sight of his daughter on Thranduil's arm. "What would be your views on such a match?"

Dieneryn grew serious. "I cannot say immediately. I do not know Lindomiel at all. I have spoken less than twenty words with her. Knowing her parents as well as I do, I can assume she is a fine lady," she said with a smile at Amglaur. "Of course, Thranduil is almost four millennia old and more than capable of making his own decisions. I would be extremely hesitant to refuse any choice he made. I would only do so for a very clear reason." She paused. "My only immediate thought is...well, how old is she, Amglaur? She could not be over one hundred."

"She is one hundred and two," he replied. "And that is certainly a concern."

Dieneryn nodded to that. "There is a great deal of Thranduil's life that she will simply not be able to comprehend and that could be difficult."

"There is a great deal of Thranduil's life that I do not want her to even know about much less try to comprehend," Amglaur replied firmly.

Dieneryn frowned watching Lindomiel and her sons on the lawn. Aradunnon, Lindomiel and her ladies appeared to be teasing Thranduil about something. The king was looking at them with open shock. Dieneryn's frown deepened.

"And of course being so young, Lindomiel would still be very high spirited. Thranduil is so serious...so focused on his responsibilities. I wonder if she could be happy committing herself to his lifestyle at such a young age," Dieneryn ventured.

"Indeed," Amglaur agreed dryly.

Dieneryn looked over at Amglaur. "It seems you have already made your decision on this," she observed.

He scowled. "I have for all the good it will do me. Lindomiel is very strong willed. I will have to argue very convincingly to prevent this." He paused meaningfully. "Or I can allow Thranduil to undo it himself. I think a season here in Eryn Galen, where she can see what her life would be like, will solve this dilemma for me."

Dieneryn raised her eyebrows. "We shall see, I suppose," she replied quietly not approving of that treatment of her son at all. He had seen enough pain. She did not want him to experience more.

Both Amglaur and Dieneryn turned their attention back to their children, the Queen of Eryn Galen studying Lindomiel with new interest.

*~*~*

After two dances, Thranduil escorted Lindomiel to where her ladies, Amoneth and Gwedhieth, stood talking and enjoying wine in a group of elves. Amongst them was Aradunnon, Thranduil's younger brother. The king smirked. His brother had his arm about Gwedhieth's waist as they spoke. Aradunnon's personality was much less reserved than his older brother's. He was born in Eryn Galen and raised amongst the merry wood elves, free of memories of the tragedies suffered in Beleriand by his kin. Though he had fought Sauron, he was largely untouched by shadow. And he brought out the worst in his older brother.

"Fair evening, muindor nin," Thranduil said with an openly teasing voice and sparkling eyes as he led Lindomiel to join her friends.

Aradunnon recognized the challenge instantly and had no intention of letting his older brother even start with him tonight. After all, he was armed with knowledge--he was privy to the reason for Lindomiel's visit. And that would make taking the offensive against Thranduil all too easy. "Indeed it is," he replied, voice filled with mirth. "And even fairer company, I believe."

Gwedhieth and Amoneth giggled at that and Lindomiel smiled, raising her eyebrows slightly and glancing at Thranduil. The king did not yet recognize the danger he was in, so he delved right in to tease his brother.

"I see you are up to your usual tricks," Thranduil declared, looking pointedly at Aradunnon's hand on Gwedhieth's hip. The king turned his eyes to Gwedhieth. "Do not give my brother a moment of your time, my lady. He is not to be trusted."

Gwedhieth laughed. "I am quite able to see that myself, my lord."

Aradunnon affected an insulted expression. "I have done nothing to deserve such slander," he declared, laughing.

"Nothing but dance with all three of the new ladies present," Amoneth observed pointedly. "And they have only just begun the fourth dance."

Thranduil joined in the laughter. "That is my brother. He does not believe in wasting time. Not when it comes to flirting."

Aradunnon only laughed, now drawing Amoneth to him with his other arm around her waist. She looked at him with alarm. "One cannot afford to waste time with beauties such as these. Else they will be stolen by some other rogue."

"Rogue describes it well," Amoneth said coolly, extracting herself from Aradunnon's grasp.

Aradunnon did not appear the least concerned by Amoneth's snub. He simply looked at Thranduil wickedly and reached for Lindomiel's hand, pulling her away from his brother to stand in the place Amoneth had so hastily vacated. He showed enough restraint to not put his arm around her, but he did hold fast to her hand. Lindomiel looked at him with amusement.

Aradunnon looked at his brother with dancing eyes and launched his counter-offensive. "Of course your behavior is so out of character tonight, muindor nin. You never dance beyond the responsibility of the first and last dance with the lady you escorted to dinner, yet tonight you have deprived everyone else present of the opportunity to enjoy this charming lady's company by trapping her into two consecutive dances. How unusual and what poor manners. I cannot imagine what the reason might be."

Aradunnon finished that little speech with a look of innocent curiosity in his eyes directed at his brother. Thranduil barely hid the glare he wished to use to melt his brother, finally recognizing the game.

Lindomiel shared a knowing glance with her friends and mercifully came to the rescue. "I enjoy both those particular dances. I did not want to miss the second one."

Aradunnon smiled at her. "I rather doubt you will miss a single dance, my lady, unless you choose to do so. We love to dance in Eryn Galen and especially with such beautiful ladies. You need not settle for such boring company as my brother here."

Lindomiel and her friends openly laughed at that. "And you fancy yourself more interesting company, I imagine?" Lindomiel asked, struggling to keep her face serious.

"You may ask anyone here, my lady. They will all tell you that I am far more exciting company than my rather staid older brother," Aradunnon responded with a teasing look at Thranduil.

Lindomiel looked at Thranduil taking in the mildly annoyed expression he aimed at his brother. Under her gaze, Thranduil turned his attention back to Lindomiel. She winked at him surreptitiously and then looked up at Aradunnon. "Well, when I was discussing this trip to Eryn Galen with Thranduil, he refused to tell me a thing about his kingdom or people saying he wanted me to form my own opinions. I suppose then it is my obligation to spend as much time as possible doing that."

Aradunnon's eyes lit up at Lindomiel's open acceptance of his attack on his older brother. "I would be happy to introduce you to everything you need to know about Eryn Galen and all the interesting people in it," Aradunnon offered quickly, with a sly glance to his brother. "In particular, I would love for you to meet some friends of mine. We meet every night for a little merrymaking on the river bank. I will take you there tomorrow night if you would like."

Lindomiel raised her eyebrows slightly, but before she could respond she caught Thranduil's now openly shocked expression. Her eyes widened. There must be quite a bit more to that offer than met the eye, she concluded. And indeed there was.

The 'merrymaking' Aradunnon had referred to was a raucous gathering of warriors and laborers and occasionally even woodsmen that normally fell to gambling and fairly dangerous games after imbibing in too much drink. The fact that Aradunnon was ever present in this setting scandalized Thranduil whenever he heard of it. He knew their father had openly disapproved of his son's visits to the river bank--indeed many breakfast conversations had revolved around that activity. The idea that he would mention it to Lindomiel horrified Thranduil. That Aradunnon might actually take her there was inconceivable. Of course Lindomiel knew nothing of this, but Thranduil's expression told her she could have some fun teasing him.

She looked at Aradunnon with overly obvious interest, taking his arm solicitously and looking up at him. "I would love to go with you, Aradunnon. I appreciate any opportunity to acquaint myself further with Eryn Galen and I am certain I would meet a good number of people that way."

Aradunnon laughed. "Yes, you would. Indeed, let me begin to introduce you ladies to some of my friends tonight," he said placing his goblet on the table and scanning the crowd.

Thranduil was about to protest, concerned his brother was just impish enough to present some of his wilder friends to Lindomiel and her ladies, when they were approached by a group of ellyth that had been watching them throughout their conversation. Seeing that the group surrounding Thranduil was apparently breaking up, these maidens wanted to approach the king for a dance. Because he had danced with Lindomiel, he could not politely refuse to continue dancing for at least a few more songs. Thranduil was pulled away from his brother and guests and the ellyth in Greenwood enjoyed the rare privilege of dancing with their king. As he reluctantly returned to the dancing green, Thranduil heard his brother making some comments about his 'popularity' with the maidens in Eryn Galen that brought Lindomiel, Amoneth and Gwedhieth to laughter. He scowled. Aradunnon was really too much at times.

*~*~*

For the next hour, Thranduil spoke to many ladies, showing none of them anything more than courtesy and favoring none in the slightest. This did not seem to impede the blatant flirtations of some, which Thranduil deftly ignored.

Unfortunately, one lady seemed particularly difficult to ignore.

From across the lawn, still seated with the queen at the High Table, Amglaur watched a dark-haired elleth practically drape herself over the king. She approached him as he stood speaking with a maiden he had just finished dancing with. The dark-haired elleth walked directly to the king and wrapped her hands around his arm possessively, leaning against his side and looking up at him adoringly. Amglaur raised his eyebrows. If there were ellyth in Greenwood that treated the king that familiarly, he did not understand why his daughter had been allowed to make this trip.

Then he saw the king’s reaction.

Thranduil openly started at the contact, looking at her with alarm. His response was enough to draw the attention of his bodyguard. Thranduil forestalled his intervention with a slight shake of his head and then looked with poorly concealed annoyance at the elleth who was by then pulling him back the green for a dance. Thranduil did not refuse the dance, but it was fairly obvious from his stiff posture and the irritated set of his mouth that he would have far preferred to.

Immediately after that encounter, Thranduil retreated to the High Table to sit with his mother and guests. Amglaur and Dieneryn were engaged in a heated conversation with Thranduil's uncle, Oropher's brother, Engwe. That was a conversation the king had no desire to participate in—he had learned that lesson well already—so he watched Lindomiel dance. She had escaped from his brother apparently and Thranduil was thankful to see that she was not dancing with any of Aradunnon's friends. He knew if he dedicated too much time to her himself, it would draw undue attention to them both and he had no desire to place her—or himself—in that uncomfortable situation so early during her visit. The citizenry would figure out his intentions soon enough. Best to let her settle in a bit before they did. But she was a beautiful sight to see dancing on his lawn. He gazed at her until he noticed his advisors looking at him with amusement. Then he forced his attention to the contests on the other portion of the lawn.

Many of the contests involved archery. They ranged from simple target practice to games that demonstrated a particular skill—speed of firing, hitting moving targets, hitting targets while on horseback, marking targets quickly and so on. Thranduil watched with some amusement as his personal guards and best warriors dueled with the guests from Lothlorien. One game, his particular favorite, caught his eye for a rather unusual reason—one of the guards from Lothlorien was very proficient in it. In fact, he was trouncing Thranduil’s best guards. Of course Thranduil could beat all those guards as well, but he had to admit he was not sure he could beat that guard from Lothlorien. The King of Eryn Galen had never been fond of making a spectacle of himself. He rarely let himself be drawn into festival games. Tonight however, without really thinking about it, he found himself standing and removing his outer robe and cloak.

The game in question involved a small circular target about two feet in diameter. The target was not solid, but rather constructed of thin sticks bent to form circles and then bound together with twine. The outer circle surrounded a series of five concentric inner circles—the center one measuring only one inch in diameter. The target was either rolled from one point on the ground to another or moved along a string between trees or on poles through the air. The goal was to fire as many arrows through the target as possible as it moved. More points were earned for arrows that went through the center circle of the target than for the outer circles. The game could either be played with the archers standing still on foot, moving on foot or moving on horseback. As the players tonight were the best guards in Eryn Galen and Lothlorien, they were playing on horseback.

Confident, even cocky, smiles appeared on the faces of Eryn Galen’s competitors as they saw their king approach the field.

“Loan me your bow, Conuiön,” Thranduil said walking up to the captain of his personal guard and holding out his hand. The guard’s bow and quiver were automatically placed in the outstretched hand. The king was focused on the guard from Lothlorien as he finished a pass against another of Eryn Galen’s guards and won.

Walking up to the guard, Thranduil absent-mindedly tested the bow, drawing it partially. “You are quite good,” he said, addressing the foreign guard as he still sat on his horse, receiving accolades from the last game.

The guard’s eyes widened slightly as he recognized who was addressing him. He bowed respectfully but his eyes held the irrepressible joy of resounding victory on the field of honor. “Thank you, my lord,” he replied.

“Care to try a new opponent? Best two of three?”

“It would be my pleasure, my lord.” He bowed again and then added quietly in a polite but self-assured voice. “I hope you will not be offended when you lose.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows, amused. “I do not know if I will be offended or not. I have never lost this particular game.” He offered the guard a smug half salute and went to borrow a horse from one of his personal guards.

Amglaur had been in conversation with his wife and Dieneryn when Thranduil joined the games and as such, e had not noticed Thranduil's departure. Therefore, when he turn to ask the king a question, he was a little surprised to find himself speaking only to his host’s dress robe and cloak draped on the back of his chair. He frowned, causing Dieneryn to laugh.

“He is gaming,” she said, looking out over the field where Thranduil was mounting a spirited white stallion. “Something must have truly piqued his interest. Thranduil never takes part in these contests. He does not even bring his weapons to the festivals with him. I am sure that is not his bow.”

Amglaur looked at Thranduil smugly. “Well, he will regret taking on that particular opponent with a borrowed and unfamiliar bow and horse.” Limmiel nodded in agreement and Dieneryn gave them a questioning look. Amglaur smirked. “He is young, but he has become the best archer in Lothlorien. Far and away the best I have ever seen.”

Dieneryn smiled slightly. “My son is not without skill in archery himself, Amglaur,” the Queen said quietly.

Amglaur smirked back. “Would you care to place a little wager on the outcome of this match?” he said in a challenging tone.

Dieneryn smiled and bets were placed by the elves at the High Table.

The Lothlorien guard took the first pass at the target in the initial match. He drove four arrows through it, but none through the center circle. Nevertheless, he earned an impressive 160 points—four arrows all through the second circle. He smiled at Thranduil as he finished his turn. That had not been his best showing that evening, but it was still better than any of the Eryn Galen guards had done.

Thranduil smiled back and then focused as the judges announced his turn was to start. He drove six arrows through the target before it reached the end of its course—several of them through the outer circles but two through the second and one through the center for a total of 180 points. He had taken the first match with something of a flourish. Hitting the target six times in the allotted time took skill and speed.

The spectators at the High Table exchanged looks, some satisfied and some quite surprised.

“He is good,” Amglaur commented turning to pay more attention to the second match.

Thranduil took the first turn in the second round. Again, he shot through the target six times. This time, he hit the center twice, the second circle twice and the outer circle twice for a total of 200 hundred points. Cheers went up from all the guards on the field.

“Is that a personal best, my lord?” the spectators at the High Table heard Thranduil’s bodyguard ask with some enthusiasm.

“It might be,” he replied, clearing the field for the Lothlorien archer.

The blonde guard had misjudged his opponent. The other archers from Eryn Galen had not approached his skill. He should not have underestimated their king for now he was going to have to make up lost ground. Focusing intently, he fired off arrows at a pace so fast that even elven eyes could scarcely follow him. He shot through the target seven times, an exceptional record. He matched Thranduil’s shot and added one more hit to the outer circle, achieving 210 points. Again, resounding cheers erupted from the spectators.

“Absolutely impressive,” Thranduil praised enthusiastically. “I would like to try to find you a wife here in Eryn Galen. One that does not care to move to Lothlorien.”

His opponent and the other guards laughed at that as the judges set up for the final round. The Lothlorien guard had the first turn. This time he hit only five times, but two of the shots went through the center circle and three through the second for a total of 220 points. The guard grinned broadly. “That is definitely a personal best.” He turned his horse to face Thranduil. “I think I have you, my lord.”

Thranduil smiled at him blandly and took his place on the field. Leaning forward to speak into the twitching ears of his mount momentarily, Thranduil motioned to the judges that he was ready. They set the target in motion. One of the skills required for this game, when it is played on horseback, is controlling the horse so that it does not outpace or underpace the target. Staying even with the target’s progress makes hitting the center circle considerably easier, but controlling a horse’s speed while both hands are occupied with a bow can be difficult. The spectators watched in silence as horse and rider kept perfect pace with the target. The horse actually appeared to be watching to the side, following the target as he ran. Thusly squared off with the target, Thranduil easily hit it five times—each time driving his arrow through the center circle, a performance worth 250 points.

Throughout the game, more and more spectators had been gathering along the field to watch their relatively new king and this very worthy opponent from Lothlorien. When the king finished his final turn, the spectators roared. The blonde Lothlorien guard urged his mount onto the field and he excitedly gripped Thranduil’s arm in a traditional warrior’s greeting.

“Mae carnen!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “I have never seen the equal!”

Thranduil returned his opponent’s greeting with equal vigor. “I had you at a disadvantage to be honest. This is my favorite game, but I have never faced such a fearsome opponent. What is your name, young one? You appear quite young still.”

The blonde elf from Lothlorien smiled. “I suppose I am. This is my first year with the guard. I am Haldir.“

“Well, Haldir, I am very glad you are an elf. I *never* want to face you in battle.”

“Nor I you,” Haldir laughed.

“Come have drink with me,” Thranduil said and leaning closer he added quietly. “Else I will never get off the field. I do not usually indulge in these games, but I simply could not pass up a match with you.”

Haldir allowed the King of Eryn Galen to lead him from the field, smiling. “I am honored, my lord.” He glanced at a group of ellyth approaching them. “I fear we will not avoid the press of admiring ladies by leaving the field, however.”

Thranduil looked at the ellyth and then at Haldir, thinking he should release the poor elf and allow him to enjoy the ladies’ attention. He laughed when he saw Haldir looked equally panicked.

“Why do they feel the need to fawn all over the elves who win these contests,” Haldir said nervously, picking up their pace. “It is almost enough to make you not want to win.”

Thranduil roared with laughter at that. “Here, I will show you. The easiest way to get rid of all but the most lost of them is to simply be very stern. It frightens them off.”

Thranduil and Haldir of Lorien enjoyed some wine and conversation…and the company of several completely enamored ellyth…for quite some time. Some of the ellyth set their sights on the presumably more attainable warden from Lothlorien, but most, as usually happened when Thranduil allowed himself to be drawn into these games, were fussing over the king. So for the second time that evening, Thranduil smiled and conversed in a friendly fashion with each of the ellyth and favored none of them in particular.

He cringed slightly as he saw one maiden join the fray--the one with dark hair, lovely gray eyes and delicate features. The one that had dragged him to dance earlier. Thranduil had always assumed she was Silvan, given her complexion, but she did not seem to have many friends among the Silvan elves. It did not matter. As beautiful as she was, Thranduil felt acutely uncomfortable around her. Again, she slid through the crowd around the king and took up a possessive stance at his side.

“That was amazing, my lord. I have never seen a score of 250 points in that game,” she purred, placing her hand on his arm.

Thranduil tensed and looked down at her with a puckered brow. The king was not one to back down, but he took an involuntary step away from the elleth’s hand before he was aware that he had done so. “Thank you, my lady. I do not believe I have ever obtained such a score. I was inspired by an outstanding opponent. Haldir, this is Marti. She is a weaver, I believe. Is that correct?”

Thranduil's attempt to distract the lady’s attention to a conversation with the Lothlorien guard was an abysmal failure. She never glanced at the elf that the king had introduced. Instead, she took another step towards the king, closing the distance between them again and this time entwining her arm around his. She stood much closer than necessary and looked into his eyes as she replied. “Indeed, my lord. I work with the queen in her workshop. Though it is merely a hobby...something I do for enjoyment. I would thoroughly enjoy making something for you, my lord, if you would like.”

Thranduil blinked at that offer. “Thank you, my lady, but my mother’s tapestries provide sufficient adornment of my chambers,” he said with an overtly icy tone. At the same time he freed his arm from her grasp and reached for a fresh goblet of wine. This he placed in her hands to occupy them. He heard Haldir laugh at that and looked over at him with a smirk.

“Tell me, my lady, do you like archery,” Haldir asked politely making conversation.

Again, Marti did not glance at him. Instead, she continued staring intently at the king. “I enjoy watching our king, for certain. You do not play at festival games nearly often enough, my lord, but you frequently practice on the range. I enjoy watching that.”

Thranduil looked at her sharply at that statement. It was obvious he had never been aware of having an audience.

“My archery skills are not so good," she continued. "Perhaps I could join you and you could give me some pointers.” As she said this, Marti put the goblet back on the table and this time twisted both hands around the king’s arm.

Thranduil stared at her a moment. “As king of this realm, Marti, I find very little time for giving archery lessons. I would be happy to arrange with our weapon’s master to provide you some lessons. If you will excuse me, I was about to introduce Haldir to my brother and mother.” Again, Thranduil extracted his person from Marti’s grasp. When he had, he took Haldir’s arm and steered him towards the High Table with a pleading look.

Haldir smothered a grin.

Much to Thranduil’s amazement and disgust, Marti followed them. “I have not spoken to the queen yet this evening, your majesty. If you do not mind, I will accompany you so that I might.”

“As you wish,” Thranduil replied quietly. He set a fast pace back to the High Table, Haldir laughing softly as they walked.

“Apparently being stern does not frighten them all off,” he said under his breath.

Thranduil grimaced. “I said all but the most lost. This one wanders without hope of finding her way. At the very least, I can assure you that she will never find her way to me.”

Haldir covered his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter.

Thranduil led the warden from Lothlorien to the High Table and introduced him first to his mother and then to his brother. Aradunnon had seen the contest between Haldir and Thranduil and he eagerly challenged the Lothlorien guard to one himself. They were quickly off. Thranduil, kept his back to Marti, not caring how rude he was being, throughout their interchange. Afterwards, he attached himself to his mother. It was not difficult. She was smiling broadly at him.

“I suppose I cannot hug my son to show him how proud I am since he is king,” she said teasingly.

Thranduil produced the same smile all boys with over indulgent mothers display. “Naneth I can hardly refuse you,” he replied, walking into his mother’s embrace and thankful for the opportunity to completely abandon the elleth that had followed him back to the table.

“Well played, ion nin,” she whispered, kissing him briefly on the cheek as she released him. Thranduil looked at her and smirked.

“I shall refrain from kissing you, Thranduil, but that was indeed well played,” a somewhat sardonic voice behind him said.

Thranduil turned. It was Amglaur. He accepted the proffered hand. “Thank you, my lord. Your warden, Haldir, is a most worthy opponent. I thoroughly enjoyed that. I do not have anyone amongst my guards who could equal his skill. Most impressive.”

“Yes, it was impressive. You and I will have to have our own little contest one day while I am here,” Amglaur said quietly turning back to his wife.

Thranduil smirked at Amglaur, not eager to take his father’s place as his competitor, and moved to seat himself when he felt a soft touch on his arm. Lindomiel, he instantly realized. He smiled, but looked down. It had not been his intent to show off and he feared that might be the impression he had given.

“My adar is correct. That was impressive indeed,” she said quietly. “I thought your slaughter of the target in Lorien was good. This was much more so. Haldir is our best warrior and that game takes much more skill.”

Thranduil shrugged dismissively. “They are pleasant games, but I rarely play at festivals. I do not like the attention it focuses on me.”

“Yes, you do seem to attract quite a lot of attention,” she replied mischievously, looking sidelong at the dark-haired elleth who had been clamoring around him only a few moments ago. She had been pulled to the side by Dierneryn and was still eyeing Thranduil and glaring at Lindomiel.

Thranduil grimaced. “I do not solicit such attention,” he replied quietly. “How is your weaving coming, my lady?” he asked, changing the subject. “You should try to find the time to work with my naneth a bit while you are here. She loves weaving. I am sure she would enjoy it.”

Lindomiel smiled at him, amused by his reticence to discuss the contest or the ellyth. “I will,” she agreed and continued to pursue that topic of conversation. She did not, however, fail to notice the jealous looks cast at her.

Thranduil stayed the rest of the evening at the High Table conversing with his guests. The horizon was glowing with the first rays of the sun when the festivities were finally drawing to a close, Amglaur rose from the table, joined by his wife and daughter. As a courtesy, Thranduil rose as well.

“I fear I simply cannot last until dawn, Thranduil. The ride here took too much out of me.” Amglaur said, excusing himself.

Thranduil gave him a genuine smile. “I would never have managed to stay this late if I had been traveling. I will tell the servants to leave you alone and keep some breakfast aside for you. After you have rested, perhaps you would like to come find me in my office and I can give you a bit of a tour?”

Amglaur smirked at him. “I have been here often enough, Thranduil. As has my wife. But I am sure Lindomiel will join you. Will you not, iell nin?”

Lindomiel tried not to look too happy about this opportunity for some time alone with the king. “Certainly. If you can find the time in your schedule.”

“I am certain I can, my lady,” he said quietly as her parents began to walk away. She smiled at him warmly and followed them.

*~*~*~*~*

AN: Marti, a quenyan name from marto--Q. Fate

*~*~*~*~*

Mae govannen--Well met
Ernil--Prince
Gil síla erin lu e-govaded vín--A star shines upon the hour of our meeting.
Aran--King
muindor nin--my brother
Mae carnen--Well done.
Naneth/nana--Mother/mum
Elleth/ellyth--Female elf(s)
Ion nin--my son
Adar/ada--Father/dad
Iell nin--my daughter

Chapter 14: Family Breakfast

While his guests retired, Thranduil and his staff did not bother. The kingdom would be ruled whether or not its king had been merrymaking until dawn. So after everyone had a bath and change of clothes, they found themselves straight into their normal morning routine. For Thranduil and his ruling council this meant having breakfast together before beginning work.

This morning, since they spent most of the evening eating, breakfast was a light affair—fruit and bread with honey and tea. Everyone present knew the main purpose of this gathering was going to be discussion, not nourishment. Everyone present was looking at Thranduil with amused anticipation, willing him to comment on the guest that had so obviously caught his attention. Thranduil, on the other hand, was studiously avoiding their gazes and had focused on his food instead, refusing to acknowledge what they wanted. Aradunnon broke first, as he usually did.

“Come now, muindor nin, we all know you want to discuss her. So do we. Why must you be so stubborn?”

Thranduil looked at his brother levelly. Aradunnon knew perfectly well that this was not a topic he wanted to make light of and the fact that he appeared ready to do so annoyed Thranduil. “Who do you think I want to discuss, Aradunnon?” he said coolly. A warning.

Aradunnon laughed. He easily recognized the warning, but he was one of the few people that could get away with ignoring it. To a large degree, at any rate. “Oh well fine then, if that is how you feel, I will court her, for I found her very attractive.”

Everyone on the ruling council turned to Thranduil with interest at that apparent confirmation of their suspicions.

“So you do fancy this maiden from Lorien, Thranduil?” Engwe asked, his voice rising in pitch somewhat.

The king shot his brother an annoyed look that Aradunnon returned placidly before turning his attention to his now eagerly attentive advisors. “I found her company to be quite enjoyable in Lorien while I was there for the summit, uncle” he replied neutrally in a cool voice. Again, a clear warning.

The warriors Thranduil once served with and captained would have recognized and respected his reticence to pursue this topic. Indeed, most people in the kingdom would have ended the conversation there. Unfortunately, those present were not yet so reserved with the king. They were all older than Thranduil. Before they served him, they had served as his father’s advisors. They tended to look upon Thranduil as a youth despite his four millennia. This was an attitude he was quickly squelching, but it was not entirely conquered as yet.

“Is Limmiel visiting Dieneryn or is this maiden…what was her name?”

“Lindomiel,” Aradunnon supplied helpfully.

“Lindomiel. Is she visiting you, Thranduil?”

This was asked by Celonhael. Celonhael was a bright and merry elf despite the fact that he had seen the horrors in Doriath and Sirion. Of all the elves that had traveled east with Oropher, it was Celonhael that benefited most from the move. He had completely absorbed himself in the silvan community. Although his family had been part of the court in Menegroth, they also had an estate in the forest region of Neldoreth. He easily adapted to forest living in Eryn Galen. Moreover, he had quickly fallen for and married a silvan maiden. Thranduil valued his light-hearted humor and his connection to the silvan elves. Unfortunately, Thranduil's feelings about Lindomiel were not a topic he was anxious to make public as yet.

“I had dinner with Lord Amglaur while I was in Lorien and he suggested that he and his lady wife would enjoy seeing Dieneryn since she was unable to attend the council there,” Thranduil replied in an even more distant voice.

“You had dinner with Amglaur!” Golwon exclaimed, looking at Engwe. Engwe returned Golwon’s gaze with wide, amused eyes. Golwon was normally very quiet. He was reserved, but his aloof attitude concealed a temper that flared easily and burned hot. That temper and his fierce loyalty to Oropher had often driven him to conflict with Amglaur when they lived in closer proximity, so the idea that Thranduil was casually dining with the prince piqued his interest to put it mildly.

“Yes, I did,” Thranduil responded shortly.

Hallion frowned. Of all those present, he was the one person—along with Aradunnon—that both knew the full story and knew Thranduil well enough to know that this conversation was going to conclude poorly. As one of Thranduil’s former tutors, Hallion was aware that he tended to look on the king in a paternal fashion, but he also had the good sense to respect him—both as his king and as his friend. Engwe, Celonhael and Golwon still had not conquered the idea of Thranduil as Oropher’s son. They saw him as the elfling they had held in their laps rather than their equal as an adult.

Engwe and Golwon were now laughing at the topic of Thranduil dining with Amglaur. “Well you will have to tell us how that came about, Thranduil,” Engwe declared. “Your adar would not approve. He was not fond of Amglaur.”

Thranduil looked at Engwe evenly. “I believe I should remind you, uncle, that it has been three thousand five hundred years since I sought my adar’s permission before forming a friendship.” He paused. “But never fear, Lord Amglaur and I could scarcely be accused of friendship. I am perfectly aware of how he felt about my adar. He made that clear to me at the same time that he informed me that I am exactly like my adar in his eyes. Nevertheless, whatever past may exist between any of you and Lord Amglaur, you will keep it in the past. I intend to maintain closer relations between Lorien and Eryn Galen. I will not have my own advisors making that difficult due to rivalries that date back four millennia.”

Golwon laughed lightly. “You do not know the full nature of the rivalries.”

Dieneryn shot him a withering glare.

Thranduil replied without looking at his mother. “I know exactly the nature of the rivalries in question, Golwon, I assure you. That rivalry is clearly settled, given my presence and my brother’s and Lindomiel’s, would you not agree? I repeat—you will all treat Amglaur and his family with the same respect you would treat any other noble from Doriath. Is that clear?”

“It is clear, my lord,” Hallion replied before Engwe or Golwon could open their mouths again. Both flashed a glance at him and their eyes widened. Hallion had fixed them with a cold, disapproving glare.

Engwe would never be restrained by such an effort. He turned his attention back to his nephew. “You intend to maintain closer relations between Eryn Galen and Lorien?” he repeated. “So is that what Lindomiel represents? If so, I would concentrate my efforts on a maiden from Imladris or even Mithlond, Thranduil. Relations with Lorien will always be satisfactorily stable given that Lorien is populated by silvan elves like Eryn Galen. Political alliances with Imladris, however, might bring us beneficial information we would not otherwise obtain.”

Thranduil frowned severely at that speech. “I am not seeking political alliances, Engwe,” he replied shortly and firmly. “If I do, I will form them directly between myself, Elrond and Cirdan with treaties, not between myself and some noble maiden through marriage. If I marry, it will not be for political reasons. I would never submit myself to such a farce no matter how pleasant I found the maiden, nor would I ever ask anyone else to participate in such an arrangement, especially if I found the maiden to be pleasant.”

Engwe looked at Thranduil with wide eyes. “So you are sincerely attracted to her then?” he asked with amazement. “Do you not think she is a little young, Thranduil? What could you possibly have in common with her?”

Thranduil stared at his uncle for a moment with undisguised irritation. “What makes you think that I have any intention of discussing my personal life with you, Engwe? You are my uncle, not my father. You are my advisor, not my go-between. Limit your advice to affairs of state and keep your opinions on affairs of the heart to yourself.”

Engwe listened to this speech with obvious shock. Then he turned a glare on Thranduil that all in the room recognized as characteristic of the House of Oropher.

Celonhael interrupted the threatened battle in a soft voice. “Thranduil, you never dance, yet you danced twice with Lindomiel. You never pay particular attention to any maiden, yet you spoke in private with Lindomiel several times. And whenever she was not with you, you were watching her. If you intended to keep this private, well…forgive me, but you have failed. It is only natural that we are interested. We are your family. Surely we have been your friends for three millennia.”

Thranduil sighed, acknowledging that he could not deny the accuracy of Celonhael’s statement. He knew at the banquet that his behavior was attracting attention. He looked back at his plate. “As I already said, I found her company in Lorien to be enjoyable.”

Engwe frowned. He was still insulted by his nephew’s earlier rebuff and willing to challenge him. “How?” he asked brusquely. “What could you talk about? Dancing and festivals and frivolity? She could not possibly understand you, Thranduil, and quickly you will be bored with her. If it is stronger relations with Lorien that you seek, angering Ernil Amglaur by trifling with his daughter is no way to achieve your goal.”

Now Thranduil looked at his uncle with open anger. “I am aware that I have much to learn about diplomacy, Engwe, but I have grasped that much. I assure you that I have not invited the daughter of a prince to my kingdom to enjoy a summer tryst with her. Under her father’s eye, no less. Indeed, I am insulted by your suggestion that I might.” He paused. “It so happens that Lindomiel and I enjoy discussing politics together. She is quite a bit sharper than I in her analysis of certain situations. We also enjoy discussing literature. She is very well read, especially given the fact that she was raised in Rhovanion. And most of all, we enjoy spending time in the forest together. Since you insist upon knowing, yes—she is here so that she and I may spend more time together and so that she may become familiar with Eryn Galen. Would it be possible for you to avoid creating a negative impression of my forest and its people in her presence?”

All at the table were staring in silence at Thranduil by the time he finished speaking.

“I beg your pardon, Thranduil,” Engwe said quietly. “I did not intend to be insulting. I simply did not understand the situation. I certainly do not need to be instructed to behave courteously.”

Thranduil’s brows drew together. “Yet you think I do?”

“Perhaps it would be best if we moved to the king’s office and began to prepare for petitions,” Hallion suggested quietly before the argument between Thranduil and his uncle could escalate. 

Celonhael and Golwon took the hint and stood.

“Indeed, it is getting late,” Celonhael said pointedly, looking at Engwe. Engwe scowled but stood as well. Celonhael returned Engwe’s black look before turning a carefully respectful look to Thranduil. “By your leave, my lord, we will go wait for you in your office.”

Thranduil only nodded, still glaring at Engwe. Celonhael and Golwon subtly pulled Engwe from the dining room leaving Hallion, Aradunnon and Dieneryn with the king. Thranduil looked back down at his plate as his advisors left his sight.

“So what is your opinion, Hallion?” Dieneryn asked softly.

Thranduil’s brows knit together, but he did nothing else to demonstrate his irritation at his mother’s continuation of the discussion.

Hallion stared at the queen for a moment, obviously unwilling to betray the confidence Thranduil had placed in him, even to the queen. “I also found the young lady and her friends’ company quite enjoyable in Lorien, my lady,” he said neutrally.

Dieneryn laughed shortly, realizing that she would hear nothing further from Hallion. So she turned to her younger son. “And you, Aradunnon?”

Aradunnon smiled at his mother before turning back on his brother with a mischievous smile. “I thought she was very sweet. Soft spoken. Kind. Essentially, the exact opposite of you, Thranduil. I cannot imagine what either of you would see in each other.”

Hallion snorted at that description for he had a chance to see another side of the lady’s personality.

Aradunnon looked at Hallion with mock seriousness. “She is really much more suited to my temperament. I think I will court her.”

At that Thranduil grinned, recognizing his brother’s effort to tease him back into good humor. “Feel free. You may quickly find, as I did, that the sweet and innocent exterior conceals a sharp wit and deadly tongue when provoked.”

Dieneryn laughed at that. “And how did you provoke her, ion nin?”

“Who knows?” Thranduil laughed. “Who can ever predict what will set off an elleth, but set her off I have on a few occasions, so I can assure you that she holds her own. In fact, she clobbers me. I find myself completely lost when I am with her. I have never met anyone who can throw me off balance as she does.”

“Unless it is her father,” Hallion interjected grinning slyly at his friend.

“Valar! I despise her father,” Thranduil admitted in a very low voice.

Dieneryn laughed. “Yes, he is difficult to handle. One must have a skill for it. I think Hallion and I would be better suited to deal with Amglaur.”

Thranduil smiled grimly at his mother. “Yes, it took me a few days, but I did finally place that it was adar that he reminded me of. Somehow that temperament is much more acceptable in one’s own adar than in someone else’s.”

“Only because one is raised to respect one’s adar, ion nin,” Dieneryn replied, smiling. “I cannot believe Amglaur told you that he and Oropher…were rivals for my affections.”

Hallion raised his eyebrows. “Neither can I,” he added seriously.

Thranduil smirked and looked down. “He did not. Indeed I think he would be furious to discover that I know.” Thranduil smiled to himself. “I will have to find a way to mention it to him,” he said airily before addressing his mother again. “You may blame Celeborn for telling me that.”

Dieneryn laughed lightly. “He would. I will have to organize in my mind which embarrassing facts I would like to share with my sons about their cousin,” she replied playfully. “But all joking aside, Lindomiel seems like a wonderful maiden, Thranduil. I will make an effort to get to know her better. I am very pleased you invited her here.”

Thranduil snorted. “I did no such thing. Her adar informed me that he would come to Eryn Galen to judge for himself if I was a suitable ruler and if the environment here was acceptable for his daughter.”

Hallion’s eyes widened at that. “He actually said ‘suitable ruler?’”

“Well I do not remember his exact words, but that was the spirit of them. And if you think that is funny, he also informed Lindomiel that I was…well the word she used was ‘popular’ here, but she told me that was not the word her adar used.”

Aradunnon burst out laughing. “Amglaur warned his daughter that you are loose? Oh that is rich. I have never met a more conservative elf! Have you ever, in all your nearly four millennia, even kissed a maiden?”

Thranduil gave his brother an icy stare. “Not nearly as many as you have, little brother, I assure you. Indeed, perhaps it is your reputation Amglaur is getting confused with mine. But do not feign such shock. I heard you telling Lindomiel exactly the same gossip last night. Perhaps I should seek revenge by mentioning that incident with the potter’s daughter in the stables?”

Aradunnon became instantly sober and looked at his older brother with serious, pleading eyes. Thranduil gave him a knowing smile in return.

Dieneryn only laughed. “Perhaps Lindomiel has a friend for my youngest son. Before he gets himself in too much trouble. Indeed, we finally find ourselves in a time of peace. It is well past time for both of you to marry.”

Both Thranduil and Aradunnon turned nervous eyes to their mother. “Naneth, I am not ready to marry,” Aradunnon declared firmly.

Thranduil laughed. “Indeed, you can forget any hopes you have for Lindomiel’s friends and Aradunnon. He already made his character known to them. As for myself, this is merely a visit, Naneth. To allow Lindomiel and I to get to know one another and to permit her to become acquainted with Eryn Galen and the people here. I am saying nothing of marriage,” Thranduil added.

“What is wrong with my sons? Find a wife! You both need an elleth to make you better people!” she declared, rising from the breakfast table and stalking off.

“To make us slaves, you mean,” Aradunnon muttered to his brother.

Thranduil nodded, following his mother’s departure with his eyes.

Hallion laughed. “Yes, it is slavery, but it is a very sweet slavery. I miss it very much.”

*~*~*~*~*

Muindor nin--my brother
Elleth--Female elf
Adar/ada--Father/dad
Naneth/nana--Mother/mum
ion nin--my son 

Chapter 15: Behaving like an elfling

Later that afternoon, after the guests had time to recover from their journey and the merrymaking, when the noon sun was broiling in the sky, a servant knocked lightly on Thranduil’s office door.

“Come,” he replied distractedly, not looking up from the reports in front of him. He was surrounded by his council and assistants as they led him through the afternoon’s work reviewing patrol reports and letters from village leaders and communications from Mannish representatives and a thousand other things. It was days like this one when Thranduil wondered how--and why--his father had ruled Eryn Galen for three millennia. He had done it for barely a yén and he was ready to go mad. There had to be a more efficient way to manage all this information.

The servant entered—Thranduil heard that—but he had not spoken yet. The king’s brow knit together. He looked up and found himself faced with one of the servants from Lothlorien and Lindomiel. His expression instantly softened.

“I am not certain you can find the time for that tour,” she said studying the pile of parchments, ledgers and other assorted materials on the desk.

He looked at her wryly. “Just watch me,” he said opening a drawer on the desk and sweeping all the reports he had been reading into it. “Suddenly diplomacy--and specifically forging ties between Lothlorien and Eryn Galen by entertaining you--is my highest priority,” he said, smiling. He stood and offered her his arm.

“Thranduil, what do you think you are doing?” Engwe exclaimed sharply.

As breakfast that morning had proven, the king found Engwe’s character difficult to deal with personally and politically. Engwe often seemed to be of the opinion that it was he and not Thranduil who ruled the council and Eryn Galen. He also was a very effective military strategist and tactician, so Thranduil could not afford to dismiss him. At least not from his council. Today he intended to show him a very dismissive attitude.

“I am going to keep a promise to visiting dignitaries to give them a tour, Lord Engwe. We will continue this in the morning. You are free until then.”

Engwe’s eyes widened angrily. “This will not wait, Thranduil,” he said imperiously, stabbing his finger down on the desk over where the ledgers and parchment now lay in the drawer.

The King of Eryn Galen turned and opened the drawer where he had shoved the papers, looking into it dramatically. Then he looked at Engwe. “No, it seems you are wrong, Engwe. All those reports waited right there in the desk drawer for me. They will continue to do so until morning. And so will you. Good afternoon.”

With that, he led Lindomiel towards the door.

Lindomiel laughed lightly as they walked away. “I fear I am disturbing the peace in Eryn Galen,” she said glancing meaningfully at the shocked looks Thranduil’s advisors were casting his way as they left his office and headed for the stairs leading to the ground.

“They are not accustomed to me yet,” he explained leading her down the stairs. “My adar worked dawn to dusk. I admit I am beginning to see why. I am just not yet ready to surrender. So when I do not behave as my adar did, it shocks everyone a bit.” He smiled at her. “But that is enough conversation about duty. Did you rest well this morning? Is your talan satisfactory?”

She graced him with a radiant smile. “It is lovely. That stream that runs by it…is it fed by the river?”

“The Celduin? Yes, it is. There is a tributary of the river that flows through here. It is almost as wide as the Celduin in places and provides us with the necessary water and transportation.”

“I would love to walk by the river if we can while we are looking around.”

Thranduil agreed, all too happy to show her anything that might interest her. He spent several hours showing Lindomiel the sites in his capital. It lay in the western glens of the Emyn Duir amongst the firs, beeches, oaks and elms. The elves around the capital lived in simple flets in the trees or cottages on the ground. The public buildings were located on a large clearing where the previous night’s festivities had been held. The clearing served as a public courtyard where elves met to conduct business or entertain themselves. On its edges in various places were several small decorative gardens cultivated simply to provide a beautiful place to sit. To the northern side of the courtyard stood a Great Hall used for official functions as well as for celebrations. A public dining hall with kitchens behind it was located near the Great Hall. The elves that lived in the capital, especially those that served the Royal Household, took communal meals in this hall. Thranduil and his family regularly dined there as well. On the southern side of the courtyard stood the flets and other buildings that housed the Royal Family and its offices. In addition to the family quarters and the king and council’s offices, this series of buildings also included a library that stored both records and literature. Paths led from the courtyard into the forest to the cottages and flets of the citizens. One such path ended at the river tributary and some relatively shallow pools along its banks where it was common to swim. This was the last place Thranduil showed to Lindomiel. This tributary of the River Running flowed mostly east to west along the northern side of the capital. It was fed by runoff from the mountains as well as the main river. It ran deep and swift in places and was a powerful presence in the capital. Lindomiel was very fond of the water, so it piqued her interest.

 “Do you have time to walk along the river for a while?” she asked.

“As you like,” he replied allowing her to take his arm and pull him along the banks.

They walked for nearly an hour before she led him over to sit on a large stone next to the river under a lone tree where the river’s water pooled peacefully. The water lapped gently against the rock where they were seated, making a lulling sound that, combined with the afternoon heat and the fact he had not slept, threatened to drag Thranduil into a catnap by the river.

“I love the water,” Lindomiel said, pulling Thranduil from his reverie. He happily focused on her. She idly dipped her hand into the river and her face brightened. “Oooh, that is warm.” She quickly removed her shoes, hiked her skirts a little and dangled her feet in the water.

It looked like a good idea to Thranduil. Though they were sitting in the relative shade of a tree that overhung the river, it was dreadfully hot. The long walk through the forest and now along the river had left him ready to cool down a bit. That was not likely to happen until the sun set. Even in the shade it was stifling. At least he could have a drink from the river. He hopped down from the rock and bent down enough to scoop some water into his hands to drink.

When he did, a wave of water hit him squarely in the side of his face.

He looked with shock at Lindomiel, who was giggling uncontrollably. She had splashed water with her foot. A lot of water. The whole side of Thranduil’s face and hair was drenched. At his astonished expression, she only laughed harder.

“You must have wanted some water if you were bending over the river,” she giggled.

“A drink, not a bath,” he exclaimed indignantly while wiping water from his face dramatically.

“A bath! Now that is a wonderful idea. It is terribly hot.” With that, Lindomiel began to unlace the bodice of her dress.

Thranduil’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “What in the world are you doing?”

“I am going for a swim. Would you care to join me?”

“Here?” he asked, averting his eyes from her hands as they worked the lacings of her gown.

“Yes, here,” she replied.

“There are pools in the city where we normally…”

“Yes, but they are at least an hour walk away and far too crowded right now for my taste. You are not even armed. It must be fairly safe here.” She began to slip the now fully unlaced gown off her shoulders.

He stopped her with a hand on one of those lovely, soft shoulders. ‘Valar!’ he thought, averting his eyes again before speaking out loud. “I am not carrying a sword or bow, but I assure you, I am armed. More to the point, I am also always followed by at least one guard. You may not see him, but he is here, probably in the trees near the forest line. He is undoubtedly very curious as to why you are undressing.”

She smiled at that. “Then we shall have to make sure that he sees it is because I am taking a swim.” She shrugged off his hand and slipped the gown off before he could say anything else.

Thranduil turned his back automatically. She was still wearing a silken shift that covered her fully. It fell to her mid-calf, had a very modest neckline and had sleeves that reached her mid-arm. But it was also white. And very thin. He could hear her wading into the water and moaning in pleasure as she did.

“This feels so good. The temperature is just perfect. Are you sure you do not want to join me Thranduil?”

He dared a glance behind him. She was submerged in the water to nearly her chin.

She smiled when he turned. “You might as well come for a swim. You are half soaked anyway.” She laughed. “Your hair is dripping on your tunic and that is not going to do the fabric any good at all. You should at least take that off. Are you not hot?”

Without a word, Thranduil leaned to the side slightly and ran his hand through his hair to wring out the water. He noticed the shoulder of his tunic and frowned. She was right. It was soaked and likely to be ruined. He scowled and began unfastening it. Perhaps if he put it in the sun so it would dry quickly. That done, he walked back over to the rock and sat in the shade.

“Your adar is going to have quite a few words with me when you come back to the city soaking wet,” Thranduil commented as he sat on the rock. Looking down on her from the rock, he could easily see how the thin shift clung to her in the water, outlining the curves of her body. Her hair trailed out behind her, carried slightly by the current, an undulating wave of gold. He forced himself to look away.

Lindomiel pouted at him dramatically. “I cannot believe you will not come for a swim. It is really delightful. Come on. Take your boots off and come in the water.”

“I do not think so, my lady.”

She frowned at him playfully. Without warning, she launched herself in his direction, catching him by one leg. He pulled back, alarmed, but could do very little without hurting her. Before he could mount any real resistance, she tugged off one boot and threw it near his tunic in the sun.

“Lindomiel, what are you doing?” he exclaimed as she let go of the first leg and seized the boot remaining on the other in both hands. This foot was planted firmly on the rock where he had jerked it reflexively when she attacked the first boot. She began to haul at the boot without any real hope of actually moving his leg. He was relieved when she gave up the struggle.

If he had thought she had surrendered, he sorely underestimated her. She gave up on the boot. Now she stood up in the hip-high water and threw her arms around his waist, water from her shift soaking his shirt and leggings.

“Lindomiel!” he fairly squealed trying to stand up and pull away. The movement only threw him off balance on the rock. With that advantage, she easily twisted him into the water using her full weight to pull him completely down. The King of Eryn Galen landed in the river with a loud splash.

He surfaced immediately, spluttering furiously. “What in the name of the Valar do you think you are doing?” he exclaimed, reaching under the water, pulling off his remaining boot and pouring water from it dramatically.

“I offered you the opportunity to save your boot but you refused…”

“I cannot believe you did that!” he said, still fuming.

She looked at him contritely. “You are not truly angry with me, are you?” she asked softly.

He returned her gaze and sighed. “Not really,” he replied in a quiet voice and with reflexive gallantry due to her distressed expression.

“Good,” she said, smiling again. And she splashed him in the face.

“By the Valar you are asking for trouble,” he said wiping water from his eyes and feeling a smile begin to tug at his lips.

When he had finished, she splashed him again.

“See here, you wench,” he said laughter coloring his voice. He lunged toward her.

“Wench!” she exclaimed indignantly and splashed him again while hastily backpedaling to elude his grasp.

She was far too slow. He picked her up bodily, lifted her out of the water, let her fall back into the river and shoved her down with a hand on her shoulder. As soon as her head dunked under the water, he removed his hand, but she did not resurface. He had a moment of fear at that until he felt her hands pull his legs out from under him. She again used her full weight against him, this time falling on top of him in the water to shove him under.

When he stood, he was growling and she was laughing her head off. He glared playfully at her and forced a wave of water at her with one strong swipe of his entire upper arm and hand. She shook the water off easily and laughed even harder, capturing his wrists with her hands to prevent him from splashing her again.

He laughed involuntarily. Her grip on his wrists was tight, as if she sincerely thought she could hold him. He was tempted to make it clear to her that she was woefully unqualified for that task. It would be all too easy to pull from her grasp and return an attack she could not hope to defend herself against. And the thought of doing so amused him. But he was acutely aware how pleasant he found even this simple contact. If he allowed the game to escalate too much, there was far too much in this situation to take advantage of. He did not trust himself not to fall into further temptation. He was far too attracted to her and he could no longer deny it to himself.

“You are a menace, my lady,” he finally said, effortlessly twisting his wrists from her grasp and sinking into the water up to his neck. He might as well enjoy himself now. He was soaked anyway.

She only laughed in reply and continued frolic in the water like an elfling.

Thranduil enjoyed the cool water and watched her, initially a relatively sedate figure next to her playfulness. But she drew him in—in more ways than one.  The sight of the water carrying her hair captivated him. He found himself hard pressed to restrain himself from reaching out to touch her hair as it floated around her shoulders. He also found the musical lilt of her laughter as she teased him distracting. And she did continue to tease him. Splashing him, pushing him over, dragging him into the deeper water or simply verbally taunting him into some sort of a response, Lindomiel led the King of Eryn Galen into simply foolish behavior that he had not indulged in for centuries. By the time she declared herself exhausted and headed to the shore, Thranduil was laughing harder than he could ever remember doing.

When she stood and walked to the banks, Thranduil remained in the water, following her with his eyes. Water streamed from her hair and off her shift. The thin white fabric left very little to the imagination as she emerged from the water, each step revealing more—the curve of her breasts, her slender waist, the swell of her hips. She was reaching to gather her hair and wring it out when Thranduil remembered himself. He hastily turned back to face the opposite shore of the river and heard her laugh at that when she turned around on the bank to see if he had followed her.

“Do you really think one of your guard is around here somewhere?” she asked as she wrung water from her hair.

“I am certain of it. At least one always follows me.”

“But he would be all the way over in those trees, right?”

“Yes,” he responded. “Why do you ask?” He dared a glance over at her. She was pulling the clinging shift away from her legs and wringing it out half-heartedly.

Seeing he had turned back around, she smiled at him. From her expression it was clear that she had no idea what effect the view she was giving Thranduil might inspire. “Because I need to wring out this shift or it will never dry enough for me to put my gown back on. Turn your back again, please.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened as he realized what she was going to do. He lowered his eyes and spun around quickly. “Lindomiel, you are not seriously going to…” He heard water pouring on the ground as she did indeed wring out the shift. He closed his eyes even though his back was fully toward her and found his breathing came with much more difficulty than it should. “Lindomiel you know you are standing on the open bank of the river. There is no way the guard does not see you.”

“Surely your guard would have enough honor not to stare,” she replied calmly. He no longer heard the water sound, but instead the flapping of fabric. Now she was apparently shaking out the shift.

Thranduil did not comment further. If he was the guard, hidden safely in the trees, he knew he probably would have stared. He shook his head. Elves were not overly modest, but they were not exhibitionists either. The elves in the pools closer to the city would have been swimming in leggings or shifts. In fact, Thranduil would have been considered very modest to leave his shirt on. He normally did not when he swam in the pools. And the ellyth often stepped behind a screen of shrubs to take off their shifts and wring them out after they emerged from the pools. Nothing they had done together would be considered unusual or improper. Somehow it seemed a little different out in the woods alone. With Lindomiel. Who he knew he was attracted to.

“You may turn around now,” she said calmly.

He did and looked cautiously at the bank. She was sitting in the sun next to his tunic, her shift back on and hanging more loosely since it was relatively drier. She was drawing her fingers through her hair to try to straighten it. Thranduil hauled himself from the river and sat next to her. After he did, he unfastened his shirt. If she could strip naked to wring out the shift, he could certainly at least dry his shirt somewhat. She did not bother to avert her eyes as he pulled it off and wrung it out. He looked at the damp shirt a moment and laid it on the grass next to his tunic rather than putting it back on. It would dry faster that way.

She smiled at that not making any pretense of concealing her appreciation of the view before her. The king laughed slightly and looked down.

“Thranduil would you do me the favor of untying this braid?” she asked turning around partially and grasping the braid down her back. “My hair will never dry while braided and it will tangle if I try to do it myself.”

Thranduil stared at the braid in her hand silently for a moment. He certainly wanted to comply with her request. He had spent the entire time they had been swimming thinking about what it would feel like to entwine his fingers in her hair. And that was why he hesitated now.

She looked over her shoulder at him, eyebrows raised slightly, an expectant look in her eyes. And nothing more. Many people would see her actions as flirtations, but he saw no such intent in her eyes. Drawing a quiet breath, he reached for the braid, banished any untoward thoughts and began untwisting it. Her hair was soft. Silky.

He shook his head slightly and searched for a distraction. “So tell me your first impression of Eryn Galen, my lady. Is it as fearsome as your lord father described?” he asked in a neutral tone of voice.

She grinned mischievously, looking around herself dramatically. “Strangely I see none of the horrors my adar described. Quite the contrary, I would have to say that my initial conclusion is that Eryn Galen is a lovely forest. Bright and beautiful. Denser than Lorien, I think, but so much greener. I love the forest at home, but the trees here seem so old and wise. I look forward to spending some time simply listening to them.”

Thranduil smiled despite his promise to himself that he would not pressure her or lay too much significance on first impressions. “I hope you will allow me to accompany you while you do so,” he replied softly. “And the people?” he continued, still in a neutral voice. “Who did you meet at the banquet last night?”

She smirked. “You brother, for one, as you know. Valar, Thranduil! He fits adar’s description of you far better than you do. He is quite a flirt.”

Thranduil laughed softly. “Yes, I was just saying to him this morning at breakfast that Lord Amglaur had me confused with my brother. But he is not the evil Oropherion that you were led to expect, I trust,” he teased.

“Hardly,” she responded with a giggle. “He was very courteous in truth. And your lady mother is very warm. I spoke to her briefly and I did mention the weaving to her as you suggested. She invited me to meet her tomorrow in her workshop. I am looking forward to that.”

“And did you meet anyone else?”

“Some of your advisors. A few other people casually. The elves that danced with me mostly.” She turned as much as his grasp on her hair would allow and looked at him mischievously. “You dance very well, my lord. When you dance at all. Do you not enjoy dancing?” she asked pointedly.

He smirked and tugged her hair playfully. “I love dancing, my lady, but etiquette does not permit a courteous person to monopolize every dance with a particular individual as my brother observed,” he replied with an exaggeratedly proper tone. He paused and added more softly. “And you might not like the attention you would get if I danced every dance with you.”

“Ohhh,” she responded dramatically. “So that is what I must do to see the true colors of the people of Eryn Galen…monopolize the attention of their king.” She paused for affect. “Yes, I was aware that some folks did seem to take more notice of me when I was with you. Ellyth primarily. Surprising, really. In Lorien I am more accustomed to attracting the attentions of ellyn,” she joked.

“I imagine you are,” he replied softly, notably not pursuing that line of conversation further. He had finished untying the braid and could not resist pulling his fingers gently through her damp hair under the pretense of straightening it.

She allowed him that liberty with a slight smile and then turned to face him again when he let his hands fall to his lap. “Again this unwillingness to discuss the topic of the attention that you attract. Why? Are you afraid I will see that my adar was correct and your brother is not the only flirt?” she asked with a playfully challenging tone.

His expression became serious at that. “Certainly not, my lady. As I said last night, I do not seek such attention. That is all.”

She studied him a moment. “So how is it that you are still an unmarried king?” she asked candidly, still looking at him intently and leaning back in the grass.

He looked at her sidelong. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

She raised her eyebrows with an amused look. “How could you have gone so long without getting married? You lived in Menegroth so you must be nearly four millennia old.”

“I am,” he replied dryly. “And you have already deciphered the answer to your question, my lady. I am from Menegroth. While my parents and I were fleeing from Doriath to Sirion to Lindon and trying to settle into a life in those places, I had no time to consider marriage. Then my adar moved here and we had to resettle. Then adar became king. Then there was war in Eregion between the elves and Sauron’s forces. Then the war in Mordor. And we moved several times from Amon Lanc further north. My life has hardly been stable enough for me to take time to seek a wife.”

She nodded, her expression neutral. “So this is not where your adar first settled when you came east?” she asked idly, changing the subject.

“Indeed not, my lady. We have actually moved north and further east three times since my adar became King of Eryn Galen.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Tell me about that. Why did you move? It seems a terrible lot of work.”

He looked at her a moment, lost as to the purpose of this interrogation and wondering what Amglaur had told her about Eryn Galen. Nonetheless, he began telling the stories she had asked for. It was rather later than he had planned when they wandered back to the city in damp clothes and with tangled hair.

*~*~*

Thranduil escorted Lindomiel to the stairs of her flet, but declined her request to join her family upstairs for dinner citing that he was soaking wet and needed to change into drier clothes. She excused him with a knowing grin and he fled before Amglaur had a chance to confront him. Nevertheless, he knew he could not hope to escape all commentary—especially that of his own family. As he walked by the sitting room in the royal chambers to his own rooms, most of his council was present.

“Tell us, since you abandoned afternoon council, do you intend to grace us with your presence at dinner, Thranduil?” called Engwe’s voice as the king passed by the entrance to the sitting room.

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. He did not appreciate Engwe’s tone or words earlier this afternoon. He stopped and turned into the sitting room, looking at his uncle evenly. “Yes, uncle, I intend to join the family for dinner. I declined Lindomiel’s invitation because I could not bear to miss dinner with you,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

No one reacted to his response because they were too shocked by his appearance.

“Thranduil, what happened?” Hallion breathed, his eyes running from Thranduil’s tangled hair to his damp tunic to his soaked leggings and ruined boot.

To their surprise, Thranduil only laughed softly. “I went for a swim,” he answered simply.

Aradunnon looked at him with bright eyes. “With your tunic and shirt and one boot on? I doubt it. Methinks you fell into the water somewhere and there is a story here,” he said teasingly. “Tell it, muindor nin. We will not let you escape otherwise.”

Thranduil returned his brother’s mischievous look, glancing quickly at the other occupants of the room. Celonhael looked equally amused. Hallion was concerned, but unable to conceal a smile as well. Golwon and Engwe appeared a little shocked and certainly confused. Fortunately, his mother was not present. Thranduil snorted softly.

“I did not fall into the water.” He looked down, shaking his head and laughing lightly. He knew the reaction his next statement would cause. “In truth, I was dragged…perhaps thrown would be the most honest description…yes, thrown into the river.”

“What?!” Aradunnon exclaimed, exploding with laughter. “You were with Lindomiel. She did this?”

Thranduil only nodded, still looking down and laughing. Hallion and Celonhael covered their mouths with their hands in an attempt to hide their amusement. Aradunnon made no such effort.

“Oh, I definitely like her, Thranduil,” Aradunnon declared firmly with dancing eyes. “Any maiden who would throw you in the river has my complete approval. Indeed, you desperately need such a lady in your life.”

“Any maiden who would throw the King of Eryn Galen into the river only demonstrates a complete failure to understand court propriety and respectable behavior,” Engwe replied stiffly. “Really, Thranduil. Such unseemly behavior. And look at you. Did you walk through the courtyard like that? How many people saw you? This maiden may be a child, but you are well past the age to behave like an elfling.”

Hallion cringed at Engwe’s words, expecting an explosion especially after the earlier confrontations that day at breakfast and during the council meeting. All eyebrows rose when Thranduil only burst out laughing.

Finally he looked at Engwe, still grinning. “Indeed,” he agreed calmly. “A good number of people saw Lindomiel and I coming back from the river and they all laughed at us. I have no doubt that I am quite a sight. I suppose I have behaved entirely like an elfling today. It was quite a bit of fun. I think it may have been very good for me and it was certainly good for you. If I were in any less of a perfect humor I would never tolerate the attitude you have demonstrated this day, uncle.” He paused. “And rest assured, Lindomiel is no child,” he concluded with a meaningful tone that caused Aradunnon to stare at his brother with wide, bright eyes. It sounded more like something he would say.

With that, Thranduil turned and left the sitting room.

When Thranduil's extremely proper valet, Sandethrin, helped him prepare for dinner, he raised his eyebrows at the utterly ruined boots and leggings and the state of the king’s hair, but said nothing. Thranduil just laughed to himself.

*~*~*~*

Ellon/ellyn--Male elf(s)

Elleth/ellyth--Female elf(s)

Adar/ada--Father/dad

Chapter 16: Gossip

Marti was glowering. She had heard gossip from the guards that Thranduil had taken a shine to some young elleth during his stay in Lothlorien, but she had not concerned herself with it. After all, the maiden lived leagues away. In the last week, she had indeed been distressed when the rumor circulated that the lady in question was to visit Eryn Galen. Marti had studied Lindomiel carefully during the feast on the night of their arrival. She did not see how this princess from the Golden Wood was so special, but she shrugged it off again. The king did not seem overly interested in her. He only danced with her twice and did not spend too much time with her.

Until he disappeared for hours with her yesterday afternoon.

This morning, Marti was seated in the courtyard on a bench along the path between the king's offices and the Great Hall. She normally watched the king walk from his morning meeting in his office to petitions in the Great Hall. While waiting to catch sight of him, she pouted. Chin balanced in her hands, elbows on her knees, she frowned in a most unlady-like manner. Her long dark hair fell like a curtain over her face. She wanted to know what the king and the little interloper had done when they were off alone. She wanted to know if anything serious had actually developed between them. If so, she would be furious. She had been in Eryn Galen since Thranduil had become king. She had dedicated herself to him, even studying weaving with his mother. There was no possibility that she was going to allow this little vixen to come between her and her king.

Marti perked up. The door to the king’s office was opening again. She straightened her gown and smoothed her hair. The king descended the stairs from his flet and started down the path accompanied by Hallion and two guards. Marti frowned. She liked to try to engage the king in conversation when he passed by, but that was almost never possible when his advisors were around. Especially Hallion. At least she would see him. As Thranduil approached, Marti stood and put on her prettiest smile.

“My lord,” she said, sweetly, as he passed.

He glanced over at her and hastily smiled. “Fair morning, Marti,” he said as he and his advisor strode by.

She watched his graceful, feline beauty as he walked.  He was handsome. And strong. Powerful. He radiated power. Marti looked at him with a feral gleam in her eyes.

"Are you certain accepting Amglaur's invitation to join him on the archery range this afternoon is a wise decision, Thranduil," Hallion was saying in a somewhat teasing tone as they walked.

"There is no point in refusing him. He will only continue to ask until he is satisfied," the king replied dryly.

"Do you really think he will be satisfied with the outcome of this contest, mellon nin?" Hallion asked pointedly.

"I doubt it," Thranduil responded with an undeniable gleam in his eye.

The mischievous expression on Hallion's face brightened. "That aside, are you not somewhat concerned about seeing him after...well, given the condition in which you brought Lindomiel back to him last night?" Hallion teased.

Thranduil laughed. "Indeed. Perhaps the archery range is not the best place for me to be with Amglaur under the circumstances. I suppose the timing of the invitation is rather suspicious."

At that point, Thranduil and Hallion walked too far past and Marti could hear no more of the conversation. Her eyes had narrowed. What 'condition' was the little princess in that Thranduil needed to be concerned about her father's reaction? Marti intended to find out. And, at least now she knew to go practice archery this afternoon.

*~*~*

The king worked through the morning--his morning briefing and then petitions as usual. Now, the members of his council were slowly trickling out of the Great Hall for lunch. Hallion and Engwe still flanked Thranduil at one of the tables in the Hall outlining the issues that would be addressed when the council reconvened after their break. All looked up with some surprise at the sound of a female voice.

"Excuse me, Thranduil."

Thranduil smiled warmly at the sight before him--Lindomiel with a basket. Lunch, undoubtedly. Lindomiel relaxed considerably seeing his response.

"I apologize for interrupting. The guard at the door told me to come in. He said you were breaking for lunch. I was going for a walk in the forest to eat lunch and you said you might want to accompany me when I went to get to know your forest, so I thought I would invite you."

Thranduil stood with a delighted look on his face. "I would love to join you, my lady."

Engwe shook his head. "Is this going to become a regular occurrence," he asked coolly.

Everyone in the hall turned to him with varying reactions. Thranduil's eyes narrowed dangerously. He had tolerated a great deal already in private. He certainly was not going allow Engwe to behave so poorly in Lindomiel's presence. But before he could silence his uncle, Lindomiel spoke to him, her own brow furrowed somewhat.

"Surely eating lunch is already a 'regular occurrence' in Eryn Galen, Lord Engwe."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows slightly. He had never heard Lindomiel bother to apply a title to anyone's name, whether referring to them or addressing them.

Engwe returned her gaze frostily. "The elf who you seem so determined to distract is the king of Eryn Galen, pen neth. Lunch is not a guaranteed event for him. Abandoning duty for two afternoons in a row is out of the question."

Thranduil's mouth opened to issue a fairly sharp reprimand, but again he was forestalled by Lindomiel.

"My adar mentioned to me that the elves in the House of Oropher were odd, but he certainly did not tell me that they had conquered the need for nourishment. That is a feat indeed." She paused. "And the next time you speak to me, you will consider a different form of address. A more respectful one."

Thranduil looked between Lindomiel's hooded eyes as they regarded Engwe coolly and his uncle's now furious countenance and chuckled. Engwe had just waded into waters that were far over his head. Hallion had turned his face partially from Engwe to hide his amused expression. He also had a good idea who would be the victor in this round.

"You are speaking to me of respect?" Engwe asked, voice rising slightly. "Do you consider it respectful, as a guest in my realm, to insult my brother and his House?"

"Indeed I am speaking to you of respect, Lord Engwe," Lindomiel replied calmly. "I issued no insult. I merely observed that it is odd that the elves in your family apparently do not need to eat. But I will not listen to you speak to me as if I were an elfling. Nor do I enjoy listening to you speak to your king as if he were an elfling. In Lorien we do not issue orders to Lord Amroth, much less in the presence of foreigners. Indeed, it would never occur to me to gainsay my king under any circumstances. So, in short, to answer you question--yes, it seems to me that you sincerely want a lesson in at least respect for your betters and possibly in basic manners."

Engwe stared at Lindomiel in slack-jawed shock, an absolutely outraged expression on his face.

Hallion covered his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughter. Thranduil did not bother. He laughed out loud. "Well said, Lindomiel."

Engwe turned wide eyes to Thranduil.

The king only laughed harder. "I suggest you think on the lesson you have just received, Lord Engwe. It is likely to be the last gentle one you hear." Thranduil looked at Hallion. "I will be back for afternoon council. I may be slightly later than normal, however. You can wait for me."

"Of course, my lord," Hallion replied. His voice was almost steady, but a hint of mirth was still evident in it.

Lindomiel smiled at Hallion as she took Thranduil's arm and left the Great Hall. He was still chuckling as they entered the forest.

She looked at him sidelong. "I take it from your demeanor that you are not upset with me?"

Thranduil laughed again. "Upset? I do not think I have been so thoroughly entertained in many yén."

She laughed lightly as well. "Why do you tolerate him?"

Thranduil shrugged. "He is my uncle. My elder. He will always look on me as a little elfling. He also provides invaluable advice on military matters. He is really much more respectful now than he was when I first became king. You should have seen us in Mordor. You would think that I had never commanded troops the way he treated me. But, I had never commanded battles of that scale. He had. So I learned to respect him. He will learn to respect me. And he truly does have Eryn Galen's best interest at heart."

"If that is so, he should not publicly gainsay her king."

"When he was young, he argued with Elu Thingol once or twice. How can it surprise me that he treats me as he does?"

Lindomiel shook her head. "It is your council, Thranduil. Govern it as you wish."

Thranduil smiled at her, lifting her hand from his arm to his lips and kissing it lightly. "I do. And that often annoys Engwe."

Lindomiel loosed a short laugh, but said nothing.

They walked a good way into the forest. Thranduil let Lindomiel choose their path, meandering aimlessly through the trees. He watched her as she ran her hand softly over their trunks, pausing to stroke her fingers down their bark. He was amazed at the way the trees responded to her. They seemed to sing a soft song, welcoming this new presence amongst them. Finally, she stopped by a large oak. She sat, leaning against its trunk, and began to unpack the lunch in the basket.

"I never let this basket out of my hands. There should be no mice this time," she quipped.

Thranduil grinned. "Good. I am hungry today," he replied, helping her spread the food and pouring the wine. After they began eating, he looked at her evenly. "Did your adar have anything to say to you about coming home soaking wet?" he asked with a neutral tone.

"No," she replied simply, laughing lightly.

Thranduil's eyebrows went up. "Nothing at all?"

Lindomiel looked at him and shook her head. "He knows I like to swim. On a day as hot as it was yesterday, it could not have surprised him that I took advantage of the gifts of the river."

As she spoke, Lindomiel was looking behind Thranduil and at the ground intently, but with a slight smile on her face. The king turned in the direction she was looking and his gaze was met by the curious and somewhat suspicious glare of a fat squirrel. It glanced at the king, dismissing him easily, and turned its attention back to Lindomiel. She casually tossed it a piece of one of the nut cakes she had packed with the lunch. It looked at her a moment longer before picking up the treat in its paws. Lindomiel watched as it sniffed the offering and then devoured it eagerly. Once it had, it scampered closer, flicking its tail eagerly and looking between her hands and her face. Lindomiel smiled.

"If you want more little one, I want something in return. Come here," she instructed in a soft voice, holding another piece of the nut cake on the flat of her palm.

The squirrel sat up on its haunches and appeared to scowl at her. Then it cautiously approached, one little hop at a time. Lindomiel did not move. Finally the squirrel walked across her legs and to her hand. It snatched the treat and scurried off a few feet and closer to Thranduil to enjoy it. As soon as that bite was gone, another was placed in Lindomiel's hand. The squirrel came unhesitantly this time, straight to her hand and took the nuts. Instead of running off, it munched the treat next to her. She reached out her hand and stroked its tail with two fingers. The squirrel glared at her, but did not resist. Instead it looked at her expectantly.

"I get to pet you if you get my cake, little one. That is my offer to you. I like your tail. It is pretty."

As if in response, the squirrel flicked its bushy tail a few times. Then it put its front paws on her leg, looking up at her with pleading eyes. Lindomiel smiled. Holding some of the nut cake in one hand, she gently stroked the squirrel's tail with the other. It allowed that, begrudgingly, but it did allow it, even after all the nut cake was summarily dispatched.

Thranduil watched this scene with amusement.

Finally the squirrel got tired of the attention and bound away, leaping from Lindomiel across Thranduil's lap and into the tree to his right. Once in the tree, it chattered at them a moment and then disappeared. Lindomiel smiled, following it with her eyes until it was completely obscured by the dense branches.

"You could probably follow him, you know. Since you are so thoroughly enamored," Thranduil teased.

Lindomiel laughed. "Perhaps I will."

With that, she stood and climbed into the oak behind them. Thranduil smirked and after a moment followed her. She ascended swiftly through the branches and finally settled herself on a limb high in the canopy. She smirked at Thranduil when he joined her.

"How is it that an old, Sindarin elf climbs so easily into the trees?" 

Thranduil looked at her with a mock-offended expression. "These trees know me extremely well, my lady. They would never allow ill to befall me in their embrace," he said with exaggerated indignance. "And I know them. I may have been born in Doriath, but I lived three quarters of my life here. I have protected this forest for nearly four millennia and it knows how much I love it."

Lindomiel nodded seriously. "Yes, it plainly does," she responded softly.

"And I am not the only Sindarin elf here, my lady. Lest you forget, both your parents are Sindarin as well."

It was Lindomiel's turn to look with teasing indifference at the king. "I was born in Lorien and raised amongst the Silvan from birth. I am completely at home in any forest. Indeed, I cannot imagine not living amongst the trees."

Thranduil nodded his head in agreement, leaning back on the limb behind him, his arms stretched out to either side of him, hooked over the branch he leaned against. "I cannot imagine anything else myself."

Lindomiel leaned sideways against the same branch, facing him. "I doubt your uncle Engwe would approve of you sitting in the trees. I think he would prefer to have you in the Great Hall at this moment."

Thranduil snorted and reached for her hand. "None of my advisors will have returned from lunch yet. I am certain he would prefer for me to be in the Hall or my office reading for the afternoon meeting. But I am equally certain he will survive that fact that I did not. He has survived much worse things."

"I think he doubts whether anyone in Eryn Galen will survive my influence on you."

Thranduil looked at her seriously. He drew the knuckles of his index finger softly along her cheek. "I do not care what he doubts or thinks or fears. His opinion is of no concern to me. And he does not truly hold anything against you in particular, my lady. He complains of everything. He growls if I dismiss the council before nightfall or if I spend too much time enjoying the sunrise and arrive slightly late in the morning. It is simply in his nature to be disapproving in general. Do not pay him any mind."

She shrugged. "I do not." She paused and followed a large butterfly with delighted eyes as it flitted through the trees. "I hear you and my adar are meeting for an archery contest this evening before dinner," she commented idly without looking at him.

"Indeed we are," he responded calmly.

"That should be interesting. Forgive me if I do not come to watch," she said dryly.

Thranduil laughed ruefully. "I would prefer that you did not, my lady. I should like for you to avoid seeing the violence that contest is likely to inspire."

Lindomiel looked at him gravely. "That is not a joke, you know. Adar is good at archery, as you may know from the war. He takes it very seriously. No outcome of this contest will be good for you. If you win, it is not likely that he will accept that gracefully. And if you lose...Valar help you, you will never hear the end of it."

"I will not lose," he responded quietly.

Lindomiel looked at him with amused eyes. "Well I look forward to hearing about the results at dinner." After a moment, she pulled a ribbon from her hair and braided it into the lacings that fastened his dress robes. "Not that I think you will need it...I know your skill with a bow...but let us see what affect this distraction will have on my adar," she joked as she did.

Thranduil smiled at her, absently stroking the silken ribbon. He knew exactly what her father's reaction would be to this favor. He was not sure whether to laugh or be fearful.

*~*~*

Later that afternoon, three of the king's guards and several of their companions sat in the shack used to house the archery targets and other equipment on the training field. They were all finished with work for the day and had come to the archery range to entertain themselves for a while before dinner. One of the guards present was Tulus, the guard that had accompanied the king to the river the previous afternoon. Tulus had no concept of discretion. For that reason, the group of friends had not done more than enter the shack to retrieve some targets before becoming distracted with conversation.

"She threw him in the river!" Belloth, one of the guards exclaimed, laughing incredulously. Everyone's eyes were as big as the moon.

"On my life, that is exactly what she did. I almost went charging over to him. I had no idea what to make of that. I certainly never expected it," Tulus replied.

"I would be willing to bet that the king did not expect it either," chimed Hurion, another guard. He was laughing too.

"He did not appear to. He did not really seem to know what to make of the entire situation. But they played in the river for a solid hour. And I mean that--played. My fifteen year old son and his friends behave similarly."

Hurion and Belloth smiled at that. "Good," nodded Hurion. "It has been a long time since the king simply relaxed and had a little fun. I would have enjoyed seeing that."

Tulus' eyes lit up with that comment. "I will tell what part of the entire adventure you would have enjoyed seeing," Tulus began with a mischievous grin on his face. Then he glanced at their friends and looked down. "But perhaps this is not the best time to discuss it," he said quietly.

The other elves raised their eyebrows and looked at Tulus with amusement. "You cannot leave us like that, Tulus. You must tell the story now."

Tulus smirked. "This may not be appropriate to repeat in general company."

Belloth and Hurion frowned. If that were the case, Tulus should have kept his mouth shut in the first place. He had already said too much. Their friends just laughed. They fully intended to have all the information now.

One looked at Tulus with an exaggeratedly shocked look. "Surely you are not implying that the king and Lindomiel behaved improperly. I cannot believe the king would do anything untoward," he taunted. He knew Tulus well. It took very little to get him talking.

Tulus let out a short laugh. "The king, no. He did nothing. Lindomiel on the other hand..."

"I do not think you should discuss this, Tulus," Belloth interrupted firmly. He also knew the expression on Tulus' face--the look of a consummate gossip.

"Indeed, this is the king's business and not for us to rumormonger," Hurion agreed.

Tulus just laughed again. "It is Lindomiel's business and you had better hear a warning else you may fall out of a tree as I did."

Eyes widened and jaws dropped. Tulus laughed even harder.

"Indeed. You would have fallen out of the tree you were sitting in if Lindomiel had stripped naked in front of you without warning too."

"She did what?!" Belloth gasped involuntarily. If Tulus' audience looked astonished that he had fallen out of a tree, his reason for doing so nearly made them drop unconscious.

Tulus only nodded. "Naked," he repeated. "Right there on the bank of the river. She took off her shift and wrung it out, talking with Thranduil the entire time. I could not hear what they were saying, but one could guess...." Tulus appeared ready to speculate despite the overtly disapproving glares of Belloth and Hurion, but he was interrupted. This time, not by the other guards.

"Tulus, Belloth, Hurion. I would like to see the three of you in my office. Now."

Tulus' mouth froze open in mid-word and his eyes flew wide with guilt and fear. His back was to the door, but that voice was unmistakable. Thranduil. His voice was soft as velvet. The guards knew their king well enough to know that was a very bad sign. Belloth and Hurion were so stunned that they could do nothing but stare over Tulus' shoulders at the sight of the king behind him. He stood in the doorway of the shack, bow in hand and a cold look in his eyes that made ice form in the guards' blood. Worse, Amglaur stood behind the king. His fists were clenched and his lips were pressed together in a hard line.

"I said now," the king repeated dangerously, standing aside to allow the guards passage through the door.

Tulus, Belloth and Hurion moved quickly and silently out of the shack. Thranduil followed.

“I will be joining you also, Thranduil,” said Amglaur firmly, pursuing them.

“No doubt,” Thranduil muttered but did not pause.

The guards' friends stared at them sympathetically as they departed.

When they reached his office, Thranduil instructed the guards at the entrance not to disturb him, closed the doors and drew the curtain for privacy. That done, he turned on his guards, addressing Tulus first.

“What do you think you were doing?” he asked with no preamble.

Tulus stared at him silently for a moment. "My lord, I meant no harm..." he stumbled to a halt, not really sure what to say.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "You meant no harm," he repeated. "Tell me, Tulus, do you make a habit of discussing everything you see when you are with me? Do you, for example, share with your family and friends the details of my conversations in the council chambers or my family's quarters? Do you make a habit of this, Tulus?"

"My lord, I have never repeated anything that I have heard in your presence," Tulus said, shocked by the accusation, but unfortunately understanding it all too well.

"So you do not repeat what was said. You must prefer describing what was done. Tell me, Tulus, is any aspect of my life or the lives of those around me confidential in your mind or is it appropriate to share anything with anyone?"

"My lord, I was not speaking of your actions..." Tulus began defensively. A mistake.

"Indeed you were not," Thranduil interrupted in an openly furious voice. "You were discussing Lindomiel. Am I to see that as an improvement?"

Tulus let out a frustrated sigh. "She did strip naked on the river bank. I was not making up rumor. I was relating facts."

Thranduil blinked. "Is that supposed to be some sort of justification for your actions, Tulus? How could those facts be considered appropriate information to relate to others? How could what you were saying be construed as anything other than gossip?"

Tulus frowned. "Well, my lord, her actions were shocking..."

Thranduil snorted. "So this is her fault? Her actions provoked your behavior?"

Tulus' frown deepened. "I think so, my lord. Yes. I mean, what she did was extremely forward behavior. It begged commentary..."

"You want to reconsider that assessment, Tulus. Think very carefully. Is there any justification for the conversation you were having on the range?"

Tulus' expression became openly irate. "How would you have reacted? What manner of elleth publicly..."

"Silence," Thranduil snapped. "You saw how I reacted, Tulus. I will not listen to you speak thusly of Lady Lindomiel. Remind me, Tulus. What was the oath you made to me when you became a member of my guard?”

Tulus looked at Thranduil and took a deep, calming breath. He repeated the oath he made upon Thranduil’s coronation. “I here swear fealty to the Woodland Realm; to protect my King and his people, foremost in battle, courteous at all times, and to set an example of honor to all; Thus swear I, Tulus.”

Thranduil glared at him. “Could you remind me one more time of the last two lines of that oath?”

Tulus looked down now. “Courteous at all times, and to set an example of honor to all.”

“Are you under the impression that spreading scandal about the daughters of visiting foreign dignitaries is ‘courteous’ or ‘sets an example of honor to all,’ Tulus?”

Tulus looked defiantly at Thranduil, speaking in an openly annoyed and fairly mocking tone. "I am not, my lord. Nor am I under the impression that stripping naked in front of the king and his guard is courteous, honorable or behavior that exemplifies the term 'dignitary.'"

Thranduil stared at Tulus for a moment completely astonished by his audacity.

Amglaur had listened silently to this interchange, feeling it would be best to allow the King of the Woodland Realm to handle his own people, but his anger was rising by the minute. His daughter had told him at breakfast exactly what she had done with Thranduil the day before. He and his wife had exchanged concerned glances and he had made a note to talk to Thranduil about it in more detail. He knew his daughter’s innocence did not allow her to see anything untoward in her actions. He wanted to make sure Thranduil recognized that, but he was not truly concerned because if Thranduil had acted on any…impulse, his daughter would have told him that, as well.

But Amglaur was not a dullard. He knew there were elves that would not recognize his daughter’s innocence and inexperience. Tulus was apparently one of them.

Amglaur looked at Thranduil, now barely restraining himself from intervening and watching to see how the king would deal with his guard.

Thranduil glared at Tulus dangerously. “I will not have anyone on my guard who will speak to me as you just did. Most importantly, I will not have anyone on my guard that would take the attitude that you just did on the subject we were discussing. You are dismissed from my service,” Thranduil said with barely contained fury.

Tulus looked angrily at Thranduil and appeared ready to speak.

Thranduil’s mouth formed a hard line. “Push me further, Tulus,” he said threateningly as his hands balled into tight fists.

Tulus' eyes darted from the black look on Thranduil's face, to his hands and then to the horrified looks on the faces of his colleagues. He held his tongue.

Thranduil opened his mouth to dismiss him, but his eyes fell on Amglaur. Turning to him, he spoke softly, for his ears only. “Forgive me. In truth, it was not entirely my place to handle this. Do you want to speak to Tulus?”

“No, I believe you have settled it satisfactorily,” he answered in an equally quiet voice. It shook with rage.

Coldly, Thranduil turned back to Tulus. "You are very lucky the Prince of Lorien is responding to this with such restraint, Tulus. If I had a daughter and I heard someone speaking of her as I just heard you speaking of Lady Lindomiel, it is very unlikely that my reaction would be so moderate. When she told me she intended to wring out her shift, I reminded her that a guard was with us. Her response was, 'Surely your guard will have the honor not to stare.' It seems the lady has misplaced her trust. Apologize to Lord Amglaur for your treatment of his daughter."

Shame did show in Tulus' eyes at that statement. "I apologize," he said quietly. "For assuming the lady's actions were anything but innocent and for gossiping about her. I truly meant no harm."

Amglaur glared at the guard coldly. "You would be wise to not be heard saying my daughter's name ever again, Tulus."

"Yes, my lord," Tulus replied softly.

When Amglaur said nothing else, Thranduil spoke. “Get out of my sight.”

Tulus fled.

Thranduil followed him to the door, fixing Belloth and Hurion in place with a cold glare. "Bring me, Conuiön. Right now," Thranduil demanded of one of the guards at the door before shutting it again. Then he turned his attention on the remaining two guards.

"Can the two of you demonstrate better judgment?" he asked icily.

Belloth glanced at Hurion and then he spoke. "My lord, we both told Tulus not to continue speaking. Neither of us approved of what he was doing," he said softly and with obvious concern.

Thranduil glared at him. "So I heard. Yet, the conversation continued. In a public arena."

"There is nothing we can say to defend ourselves, my lord," Hurion said. "We should have done more to silence Tulus. We at least should not have participated."

Thranduil studied them both silently for a moment. "I am astonished that you did not do more to end that conversation. Both of you have been in your positions far too long to participate in gossip about the people you guard. I am more disappointed then I can express to see two of my most trusted guards engaged in such disloyal conduct."

Both guards grimaced slightly and looked down, but they made no reply.

Thranduil sighed. "You at least told Tulus to be silent once and you did accept that your actions were wrong. I am inclined to let you go with a warning that if I ever see similar behavior again I will not just dismiss you, I may banish you."

The guards looked between Thranduil and Amglaur nervously, not knowing if that was the king's final word. Thranduil looked at Amglaur. The prince's eyes had narrowed angrily.

"I do not trust anyone who would speak of my daughter in such a way to be around her, Lord Thranduil," he said firmly.

Belloth's brow furrowed. "May I speak, my lord?"

Thranduil nodded.

Belloth turned to Amglaur. "With respect, my lord, neither Hurion nor myself have said anything about Lady Lindomiel. Nor would we. If the king had not arrived when he did, I can say that for my part, I would not have allowed the conversation to continue." Hurion nodded to that. "I do not deny that we should have silenced Tulus before he said as much as he did, and I sincerely apologize for not doing so, but we would never show disrespect to any of the king's guests. You have absolutely nothing to fear from us, my lord. I swear that upon my life."

"I believe that, Lord Amglaur," Thranduil added softly. "These two served my father in Doriath. They have never done anything before this to show themselves as anything but reliable. But I will bow to your wishes. I will do nothing that leaves you uncomfortable with your lady daughter's safety."

Amglaur scowled. "I will trust your judgment, Lord Thranduil." His eyes shifted to the guards. "Pray that my trust has not been misplaced as my daughter's was."

Thranduil's mouth formed a hard line at that threat, not certain at whom it was directed. Belloth and Hurion looked at Amglaur and then at Thranduil with barely concealed shock as well. "You are both dismissed," Thranduil said quietly.

The guards bowed and left. As they did, Conuiön ascended the stairs to the flet, looking with concern at the serious expressions of his subordinates and then alarm at the obviously furious expressions on the king and prince's faces.

"You asked for me, my lord," he said, entering the office.

"Yes I did. I need to inform you that I dismissed Tulus."

Conuiön's eyes widened slightly before he stifled his reaction and pasted an impassive mask on his face. This was obviously not a situation to play with. The tension in the room was palatable.

Thranduil continued without pausing. “I want to meet with every one of the guards you command tomorrow morning before I meet with my council. At that time I want your recommendations on a replacement for Tulus as well.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You are dismissed. I will speak to Lord Amglaur privately for a moment.”

Conuiön stared at the king for a moment. He had made it plain that he did not care to pursue the conversation, but Conuiön knew Thranduil very well. He was clearly furious. Conuiön was very concerned about what had happened to cause Tulus to be dismissed. Nevertheless, now did not appear to be the time to challenge the king's orders.

"Yes, my lord," he replied calmly. Bowing, he left the office.

Thranduil watched Conuiön leave. With a deep sigh, he straightened his back and faced Amglaur. This had done nothing to improve Amglaur’s outlook on Eryn Galen, he was sure.

Thranduil looked Amglaur in the eye. “I know that I do not have to explain any of Tulus’ comments to you because I know you have no reason to doubt your daughter’s honor. You also have no reason to trust mine. I want you to be certain that it is plain to me that Lindomiel is a complete innocent. I would never betray that innocence.” He lowered his eyes and continued in a softer voice. “I find it…captivating. I would never do anything to corrupt it.” His voice hardened again and his eyes drifted to the door. “Nor will I stand by while others corrupt it.”

Amglaur studied Thranduil for a moment. Finally, he spoke. “I do not doubt that, Thranduil. Despite what Lindomiel repeated to you, I do not truly believe you would behave inappropriately with any elleth.” He paused. “You know,” he continued quietly. “Lindomiel tells her naneth and I everything. She told us at dinner all about your walk yesterday.”

Thranduil looked at Amlgaur evenly, his face impassive.

“I am a little shocked that you did not stop my daughter from swimming in such an odd place or from...I assume she was drying off her shift.”

Thranduil frowned at that. “She was," he confirmed. Then his expression revealed frustration. "How do you expect that I could have stopped either action? I told her that there were pools nearer the city where we normally swim here. She said they were too crowded and too far away. When she went to dry her shift, I reminded her of the guard. I already mentioned what her reaction was.” He shook his head. “How was I to stop her short of physically preventing her...and how would you propose I do that? I could not stop her."

Amglaur surprised Thranduil by reacting to the king's obviously concerned tone by laughing lightly. "I see you will have no more influence over Lindomiel than I do then. That is a small satisfaction."

Thranduil looked at Amglaur with confusion. "Excuse me?"

Amglaur smirked at Thranduil. "You will find that Lindomiel knows her own mind very thoroughly." The hard look returned to Amglaur's face. "I assume this conversation you will have with your guards tomorrow morning is to inform them of how they will treat my daughter?"

“Precisely. I will discuss with my guards exactly how they are to behave, you may be assured. But you may also be assured that I have no intention of taking anymore walks along the river with her.”

Amglaur laughed sourly. “She will just do something else in some other situation that could be taken advantage of. She truly saw nothing untoward about her behavior with you..."

"Neither did I, Amglaur," Thranduil interrupted. "It was obvious that she simply wanted to enjoy herself swimming on a hot afternoon. Nothing more."

"Well, clearly that was not obvious to everyone and Lindomiel would never see how anyone could interpret her actions any differently. Make no mistake, she has her father’s sharp tongue, as I think you have observed. She can stand up to any one in an argument or when confronted. If someone does treat her improperly, she is not shy about telling them or defending herself if need be. But it would never occur to her to assign anything but pure motives to anyone's actions. She would be both shocked and hurt to realize that anyone thought her motives were anything less than innocent.” He paused for emphasis and looked at Thranduil. “I want her to retain that innocence. All of us who were driven from Menegroth would like to still see only beauty in the world. But the world is simply not like that anymore. I do not want Lindomiel to learn that the same way we were forced to.”

Thranduil nodded and looked down with pain in his eyes. “We are in complete agreement. I meant what I said--I will not leave you concerned with your daughter's safety.”

Amglaur returned Thranduil’s gaze coolly. “I hope not, but we shall see. As I told you in Lorien when I suggested this visit—the environment in Eryn Galen is what I am here to evaluate.” He paused but Thranduil bit his tongue. Rising to that bait would not further the cause of convincing Amglaur that Greenwood was a suitable environment for his daughter. When Thranduil did not speak, Amglaur continued. “Lindomiel has told me that she finds Eryn Galen to be very lovely.” He glared at Thranduil bitterly, reaching forward and jerking the ribbon entwined on his dress robes. Thranduil lifted his chin slightly, but made no other reaction. “I cannot imagine why. It cannot hold a candle to the Golden Wood. But you can never account for tastes.” He stood. “Shall we go to dinner? It is late. I fear you are keeping your guests waiting.”

Thranduil studied his guest for a moment. Without comment, he gestured for Amglaur to precede him from the room.

*~*~*

mellon nin--my friend
pen neth--young one
elleth--female elf
adar/ada--father/dad

Chapter 17: Some people never learn

Marti knew she was missing dinner but she did not care. Instead of eating, she sat in the courtyard as she had that morning.  She had gone to the archery range to try to meet the king only to see him marching off the field with three guards and the Prince of Lorien. She followed the king discreetly and watched a strange procession of people go in and out of his office. First the king, the prince of Lorien and the guards entered the office. Then one of those guards literally fled. A few moments later, the rest of the guards left solemnly. And then Conuiön had come and gone. Bizarre. She would like to know more about that incident, but not now. The king was emerging from his office. As she had that morning, Marti stood and smiled.

“Good evening, my lord."

This time he barely acknowledged her, nodding his head slightly. She raised her eyebrows. He seemed very peturbed about something. She also noticed the way the prince of Lorien glared at Thranduil as they walked.

‘Interesting,’ Marti thought. Apparently the maiden’s father was less than friendly with the king. That was useful.

Marti decided to skip dinner. She could pinch something from the kitchens later and it was obvious the king and his guests would be in the public dining room that night. She did not want to watch him with the little princess. Instead, she walked along the paths in the twilight, trying to distract herself in the beauty of the stars.

She passed by the pools and saw one of Thranduil’s guards sitting on the rocks. On closer inspection she thought it might be the guard that had left the king’s office so quickly. He was throwing rocks into the water. And sticks. And basically anything he could get his hands on. He did not appear to be in good humor. She wondered why.

Marti sidled up to the guard while singing a tune softly to announce herself. He looked back at her and frowned. Seeing she was approaching, he stood and moved to walk past her on the path.

“Excuse me, my lady. I am no fit company. I will leave you to enjoy the pools,” he said in a strained voice.

But Marti was not to be put off. She wanted to know what had happened to upset the king. Given what she had seen, Tulus knew something.

Her eyes widened innocently. “My lord,” she began, purposefully addressing him in a manner above his station to flatter him,  “I only mean to comfort you. You are clearly upset. How can I help you?”

He took a deep breath. “You cannot help me, my lady. You can let me pass, if you please.”

“Oh but I cannot leave you so obviously distressed. Come talk to me a moment and you will feel better.” She pulled him back to the pools with one hand in his. The look she gave him was very solicitous. He lowered his eyes.

“Really, my lady, you need not…”

“Oh, but I want to help…Tulus, correct?” she asked wracking her brains for his name. She was good with names.

He brightened slightly at that. “Yes, my lady. I am afraid I do not know…”

She smiled and supplied her name before he finished. “I am Marti,” she purred. “You are one of the king’s guards, are you not?”

She looked alarmed when his expression darkened. “I was,” he growled.

She widened her eyes in exaggerated dismay. “Was? What ever happened?”

“The king is unhinged over this little tart from Lorien,” he replied bitterly, visibly regretting his words as soon as they were spoken.

Marti did not regret them. She wanted to know more about Tulus’ reasons for calling the little princess a tart. That could be very useful. “She is a little tart, is she not?” she fished.

It did not take much to encourage Tulus. He was bitter over the king’s punishment—unjustified in his mind. “Indeed. Only a certain type of woman strips naked on the shores of the river right in front of the king and his guard.”

Marti had some difficulty controlling her reaction to that tidbit. The little princess had done what at the river’s edge? They must have gone swimming. But even so, why had the little princess done such a thing? She did not know enough about her to judge that. No matter the reason, if this story became public, it would make the environment in Eryn Galen considerably less inviting for the interloper.

“Well of course everyone who has heard thinks the same thing,” Marti replied smoothly.

Tulus raised his eyebrows. “Everyone? No one would know about this but me…”

She laughed lightly. “Do not be silly. The king and his guest were not the only people seeking the comfort of the river.  There were a few of us down the bank slightly. We saw it all too. Disgraceful behavior on her part. Throwing herself at the king like that,” she ventured and watched for the reaction.

“Well said,” he agreed enthusiastically.

Marti frowned at that. Had Lindomiel actually done something so extreme to attract the king's attention? Marti thought she had better spend some time getting more information from Tulus. The conversation so far had been very productive.

*~*~*

Dinner at the Royal Table had been a fairly subdued affair. Hallion, Dieneryn and Aradunnon looked with concern at Amglaur and Thranduil when they entered the dining room both with such grim expressions. Their curiosity only increased seeing Lindomiel studying her father and the king sharply as well. When dinner ended, Lindomiel suggested a walk and Thranduil tried to hide exactly how grateful he was to escape his own halls as he offered her his arm and excused himself.

Lindomiel entwined both her hands around his arm, leaning close to him as they walked slowly across the courtyard. They walked in silence until they reached the canopy of trees on the far side of the courtyard and for several more moments along the paths. Then Lindomiel looked at Thranduil seriously.

“May I assume from the atmosphere at dinner that ada is upset about something?” she asked softly.

Thranduil lowered his eyes. “He is," he confirmed quietly.

"May I ask what? It seems more serious than simply losing an archery contest."

Thranduil grimaced. "Nothing for you to concern yourself with Lindomiel. It is resolved."

Lindomiel frowned. “I would like to know what you and ada discussed so that I know what to expect when I return to my talan tonight.”

Thranduil studied her with concern now. He was not accustomed to censoring information. On the contrary, he never thought that was a good policy. But he did not want to hurt or offend her. They had arrived in a small clearing. Thick grass grew here, decorated with summer wild flowers. Throwing his cloak on the ground, he pulled her gently to sit on it with him. As he spoke, he kept her hand between his. “One of my guards gossiped to some of his friends about our activities yesterday. Your adar and I heard their conversation as we were approaching them on the archery range. I apologize, Lindomiel. You will not be subjected to similar conduct again, I assure you.”

Thranduil was surprised when Lindomiel only laughed lightly. “Gossip does not offend or frighten me, Thranduil. I can handle myself." She smiled at him affectionately. Withdrawing her hand, she caressed his cheek. Her smile only deepened when he drew a quiet breath at the contact. “Though I do appreciate the gallant protection of the king.”

Thranduil laughed as well, recapturing her hand and kissing it softly.

“Did ada hear enough to be angry?” she asked quietly.

“I fear he did.”

“Did he direct his anger at you?”

“To some extent.”

Lindomiel grimaced. “Disregard whatever he said to you. He is much too overprotective of me.”

“He only wants to shield you, Lindomiel. That is one desire both your adar and I share.” She looked at him with a disgusted scowl, but he shook his head and silenced her with a finger on her lips. “At the risk of sounding condescending, and I assure you that is not my intent, you have no concept of the horrors your adar has seen. He does not want his child to see such evils because he loves you.” Thranduil frowned. “I do not want you exposed to anything that might rob you of your innocence either, Lindomiel.”

“I do not need two adars, Thranduil,” Lindomiel replied firmly.

Thranduil laughed and looked down. “I definitely do not look upon you as a daughter, Lindomiel.”

Lindomiel smiled mischievously at that and moved closer to him. “I am glad to hear that,” she said and paused for a moment.  “I mentioned to adar that I truly like Eryn Galen. He did not seem very pleased with that.” She leaned against Thranduil's shoulder as she spoke and felt his body shake slightly as he laughed.

“He told me that himself and he was definitely not pleased. I do not believe he has a good impression of Eryn Galen at all after what he heard today. But you have been here for only a few days. I am certain that he still has hope that you will learn to hate it.”

She laughed. “I will not.” Lindomiel was leaning against him with her head on his shoulder, looking up at the stars. “It is simply beautiful here,” she added softly after a moment.

Looking down at her, Thranduil had to agree.

She studied the sky. “The stars seem bright tonight,” she whispered, tilting her head back further.

Thranduil closed his eyes. As she adjusted her posture to better see the stars, her head brushed his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into the caress, purposefully laying his cheek against her hair. She did not move.

“You do not remember the Time of the Trees, do you?” she asked, a curious tone to her voice.

He shook his head slightly and her hair tickled his cheek. “No. I was born in the First Age, towards the end of it. I was only forty when Elu Thingol was slain.” She felt him smile. “I love nights like this. I remember sitting with my adar on nights when the stars were bright as they are tonight and looking at them outside the caves at Menegroth. We would lie on the grass and he would sing. He told wonderful stories. No one who did not know him well would have ever guessed it, but he could easily have been a minstrel rather than a warrior.” Thranduil smirked. “And my uncle Engwe plays the harp. Perhaps I should make him play it for you. As you have seen, he is very likely everything your adar warned you he is…possibly worse. I often find the idea that he plays the harp difficult to reconcile with his personality.”

Lindomiel laughed lightly and turned a bit to look at him. Her face was inches from his. Thranduil stopped breathing, looking into her eyes and trying to prevent his gaze from falling to her lips. “Do you sing, my lord?” she asked with amusement in  her voice.

He grinned. “I sing decently well, my lady.”

He felt her hand against his chest and before he realized what she was doing, she had pushed him onto his back in the grass.  Before he could protest, she settled herself next to him on her back, still looking at the stars and pillowing her head on his shoulder.

“Sing something,” she said softly.

Thranduil let out a short breath. He would be lucky to speak much less sing. The warmth of Lindomiel’s body along side his took his breath away. The arm that belonged to the shoulder now being used as a pillow stuck awkwardly out to the side for want of a place to occupy that would not result in far too intimate contact. With a laugh, Lindomiel seized the hand attached to that arm and held it in hers on the grass. Thranduil could feel the delicate fabric of her gown with his fingertips.

He took a calming breath. With his free hand, he reached to smooth some of her long hair that was tickling his neck. He found himself immediately addicted to the feel of it, so he continued to stroke his hand through it absently.

“Will you sing something?” she asked again after he remained silent for several minutes.

By that time Thranduil thought it was possible that he had recovered enough to do so. “As you wish,” he answered softly.  After a moment’s thought, he began to sing.

In the starry night so soft,

Listen to the whippoorwill,

Forest shades repeat his song,

Sadness fills and thrills his lay,

Singing all the summer away...

Whippoorwill, sad whippoorwill.

It was a haunting ballad that told of distant memories evoked by the sad call of the whippoorwill. It was uniquely Silvan, one of the songs he had learned since coming to live in Eryn Galen. When he finished singing it, she turned towards him and propped herself up on one elbow, leaning over him.

“Such a melancholy song,” she observed softly. “It sounds Silvan in its theme, but I would not expect something so sad from these merry elves.”

He looked at her seriously. “Even here the long memory of elves remembers some sorrow too.” He looked at her a moment, her face hovering over his. Then he pulled her against his side again, this time holding her firmly. “But I will sing you something silly to lighten your spirits again.” He paused again, thinking a moment as she again made herself comfortable on his shoulder.

Sweet as the flowers in springtime,

Sweet as the honey dew,

Sweet as the bluebells in the bowers,

I am thinking tonight of you.

Sweet as the verbena in the garden,

Sweet as the dew on the rose,

I would rather be somebody's darling,

Than a poor elfling nobody knows.

This song was a jaunty, foolish tune about a young elf’s first experiences courting ellyth. It was also a Silvan invention, mildly racy and definitely comical. It had Lindomiel gasping for air, her lyrical laughter mixing with the music. When Thranduil broke into a third verse, Lindomiel again pushed herself up on her elbow and put her hand over his mouth playfully.

“No more, Thranduil, I beg you. That is scandulous! Tell me none of those incidents were inspired by personal experience.”

Thranduil pulled her hand from his mouth, trapping it under his own against his chest as he affected a somber look.  “Certainly not, my lady. My youth in Menegroth was dedicated to serious study, not misspent with such ridiculous adventures.”  He barely finished the sentence before laughter claimed him. “I swear though, none of those stories are my own. You will have to work much harder to hear stories about me. I will never willingly tell them.” He paused and Lindomiel saw his eyes twinkle mischievously. “Part of that song was based on something Aradunnon did a very long time ago. I will leave you to guess which part. Nana almost fainted the first time she heard the minstrels sing this song at a festival. She recognized the event.  Fortunately for Aradunnon, adar did not.”

Lindomiel was still laughing. “You know all I have to do is ask my naneth to talk to your naneth and I will have all the stories I want of you.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows to that. “I will swear nana to secrecy in the morning.”

Lindomiel snorted. “Oh that will certainly work,” she replied mockingly.

They lay in the grass, talking, singing and looking at the stars until well into the night. Thranduil was perfectly aware that nothing about this situation was entirely proper, from the way Lindomiel was pressed against the length of his body to his arm about her waist holding her against him. And he did not care. He could not have taken his hands off her if Amglaur suddenly walked into the field. He simply savored the feel of her in his arms.

The king would have been horrified to know that he had an audience. Marti stood behind a tree along the path where she had first spied them after being attracted by the sound of Thranduil’s singing. She glowered at the sight of them—the first evidence she had seen with her own eyes that her king was truly interested in the little princess from Lothlorien.

She would never have him.

*~*~*

AN: The little snippets of song that Thranduil sings are folk ballads I learned in grade school. That is all I remember of them and I do not remember the authors to give them credit, unfortunately.

*~*~*

Adar/ada--Father/dad
Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

Chapter 18: Weaving a web of lies with half truths

The summer was coming to its end and Lindomiel continued to enjoy her visit to Greenwood, falling into a pleasant routine. She spent her days in Dieneryn’s workshop continuing with her study of weaving under the queen’s tutelage. It was a good opportunity for Dieneryn to get acquainted with the elleth that had so plainly captivated her son and the queen enjoyed her time with the young maiden. When Lindomiel was not in the workshop, she entertained herself with a variety of activities. She rode or walked through the forest, swam in the pools with some of the ladies she met in the queen’s workshop and read in the gardens. But obviously she most looked forward to the time that she spent with Thranduil. His schedule was busy, but despite that they walked every evening along the paths in the forest and they occasionally escaped together for a few hours during the day at lunchtime. 

Even more rarely, they had the opportunity to meet in the mornings. Thranduil normally watched the sunrise from a tall flet in solitude—his one and only chance during the day for private thoughts. But when he knew his duties would keep him from spending time with Lindomiel in the evening, he happily gave her his time in the morning. She also enjoyed watching the sunrise.

Today, Thranduil was scheduled to meet with representatives from a Mannish village in the southwest, so he knew he would be busy until late in the evening save possibly at lunchtime. Therefore, he sought Lindomiel out in the place he knew she preferred to watch the sunrise—by the river. The warming rays of the sun could only just be detected as he came upon her. She was sitting on the forest’s edge, facing the river and leaning back into the cradling embrace of a large oak tree. Her face was turned east, bathed in the soft morning light, but her eyes were closed. Thranduil smiled and walked silently to the tree.

“The sunrise is much more beautiful when you look on it with your eyes open,” he whispered into her ear.

Lindomiel was deeply engrossed in the morning song of the trees and the gentle, warm breeze lofting through them. She had not detected his approach, so when he spoke, she jumped. Thranduil laughed lightly as she scowled up at him.

“You villain! You nearly scared me to death!” she growled, but she could not conceal the laughter in her eyes.

Thranduil settled himself on the ground next to her. “I should not be able to sneak up on you at unawares. An elf should be more alert to her surroundings,” he teased.

Lindomiel scowled playfully. “You are very lucky you do not have a dagger in your chest,” she retorted. Then she looked at him seriously. “I take it you will be working tonight.”

He nodded. “Very likely. I have an afternoon meeting with some Men. Those meetings tend to be long.”

Lindomiel’s eyes lit up at that topic. “Men? Here? Are they here? I have never met a man before.”

Thranduil’s expression became guarded. “And you will not today. I have enough to worry about with this meeting without adding to my troubles. I can only imagine what your adar would do if I began introducing his daughter to men and dwarves and the Valar only know what else…”

Lindomiel frowned in disappointment. “Thranduil, I am certain to meet men at some point…”

“Lorien has very little contact with any outside influences and almost no contact with other races…”

“Surely you do not assume that I intend to live in Lorien my entire life, Thranduil?”

That caused the king to look at Lindomiel sharply with an effort to hide his reaction. “Do you?”

Lindomiel returned his gaze evenly. “That remains to be seen. I certainly have enjoyed my stay in Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil smiled softly. “Have you indeed?”

“I have,” she said with a grin.

Thranduil took her hand, tracing an idle pattern across it as he spoke. “Tell me what you like most about Eryn Galen,” he requested. The light in his eyes was teasing.

She smirked. “Well,” she appeared to consider. “The forest itself is lovely. The trees seem very content and welcoming and peaceful. And I have enjoyed weaving with the queen. I have learned a great deal from her. I met a number of interesting people in her workshop that I would certainly hate to leave behind if I were to return to Lorien.”

“And those ladies are the only folk you would hate to leave behind,” he prompted returning her smirk.

“Oh, well a few ellyn weave with your naneth. I have become friends with them as well.” She paused and he looked at her with laughing eyes. “And there is your brother, of course. I have enjoyed his company immensely. I would surely miss him.”

Thranduil laughed out right at that and so did Lindomiel. “So you could be happy in Eryn Galen?” he asked. His eyes were still dancing, but his tone was completely serious.

“Definitely,” she responded.

He smiled at that, raising her hand to his lips to kiss it and then using it to pull her closer to him, so that she was leaning against him as they watched the sunrise. His arms circled her waist. “Eryn Galen would be a much happier place with you in it,” he whispered against her hair.

Lindomiel smiled and enjoyed the sunrise and the feel of Thranduil’s arms around her, but she wondered how much more direct she would have to be before Thranduil would be convinced that she did wish to stay in Greenwood. They had this discussion several times and on each occasion she had assured him that she did love the forest. He always seemed pleased to hear that, but he never pursued the topic to what Lindomiel saw as its natural conclusion. She knew perfectly well that Thranduil wanted her to have time to truly become acquainted with his realm and its people, but she had been visiting for an entire season. Lindomiel was quickly discovering that Thranduil’s patience exceeded her own. At least on this topic.

These thoughts wandered through her head as she sat in the king’s embrace. She was so absorbed by them that she jumped again when he spoke.

“I had better be getting to my office. Are you going to naneth’s workshop? May I walk with you there?”

Lindomiel’s eyes flashed to the sun—it was well into the sky. She laughed lightly to herself. They must have been sitting there for at least an hour if not two. “Your advisors are going to be very cross with you, lord Thranduil,” she said with a mock-serious tone as she stood.

“My advisors now assume that whenever I am late, it is your fault somehow.” Thranduil shrugged slightly, a playful grin spreading across his face. “It is very convenient really. I can get away with nearly anything and you will be blamed.” He paused for emphasis. “And no one complains. Indeed, they seem to approve.” Lindomiel raised her eyebrows at that so Thranduil elaborated. “On one of the days that I had told the council to expect me back late from lunch because you and I were having a picnic, I heard Hallion telling Golwon to wait to tell me about a trade incident that they knew would anger me until after lunch. It seems Hallion thought I would be better disposed to handling the bitter news after spending some time with you.”

Lindomiel laughed and looked at him, clearly shocked that he took overhearing that so well. “Were you?” she asked.

“I admit that I was. And what is more, I even behaved as if I was, despite the temptation to prove Hallion incorrect. I did, however, have some interesting revenge on Hallion for his treachery later that week.”

“No doubt,” Lindomiel laughed.

They walked the rest of the way back to the courtyard and to Dieneryn’s workshop laughing about the story Thranduil told of his ‘revenge.’ When they entered the workshop, Lindomiel was still giggling. Everyone stood upon seeing Thranduil. The king waved the ladies to their seats, stayed and spoke to them all for a few more moments. Then, kissing Lindomiel’s hand in farewell, he proceeded finally to his office to begin his day’s work.

As Lindomiel took her seat at her loom, the eyes of many of the ladies were upon her—not the least of all, Marti’s.  Marti despised Lindomiel more and more every day. Determined that Lindomiel and the king should not be together, Marti had launched a campaign against her almost immediately after her arrival. She made sure, for example, that an embellished version of the king's swim with Lindomiel was well advertised. Doing her best to paint Lindomiel in the worst light possible, Marti spread any gossip she could and enjoyed reasonable success, especially amongst her group of younger friends. Their interactions with Lindomiel were considerably cooler than they might be. But other than that small group, no one paid attention to Marti. Everyone in Greenwood loved their king. They saw how happy he was with Lindomiel and they rejoiced for him, hoping to see the courtship come to a betrothal as soon as possible.

And that was why the ladies in the workshop all stared at Lindomiel so intently now. Lindomiel bent her head over her loom to hide her smile. She knew exactly what effect the king’s escort to the workshop would produce.

“The king seemed to be in a very good mood this morning,” one of the ladies commented, apparently idly.

“Especially for a day when the queen tells us she must join her son in negotiations with the Mannish representatives. I do not recall ever seeing him so cheerful on a morning when he is scheduled to treat with Men,” another replied.

“You came in with him, Lindomiel. Do you have any idea why he is in such good humor?” a third lady asked mischievously. All the ladies giggled at that. All except Marti.

“I cannot imagine,” Lindomiel replied airily, not looking up from her weaving. “He happened upon me as I was watching the sunrise this morning and he was in a good mood then. Very joking, in fact.”

“Watching the sunrise together? Is that what you were doing?” one of Dieneryn’s closest friends asked. Her tone implied that she believed the king and Lindomiel might have done a bit more than simply make astronomical observations.

Lindomiel did look up at that. Wryly. “Yes, we watched the sunrise. And nothing more,” she replied flatly. Her voice openly revealed her frustration.

All the ladies laughed again. This had been a topic of jokes before amongst Lindomiel and the friends she had made with Dieneryn’s ladies. “He is plainly lost over you, Lindomiel. Never fear,” one of the ellyth said through her laughter.

“Yes, he is merely being cautious. He recognizes how young you are and he does not want to pressure you before you have had a chance to determine if you can accept all the changes you would have to endure if you and he were to…do something more than watch sunrises together.”

Lindomiel laughed and nodded. She had that discussion with both her own mother and with Dieneryn. Indeed, she had recognized that was Thranduil’s intent without being told by either of them. Understanding that did not make it less exasperating.

After a moment of silence, another lady continued the conversation. “I do not think there is an unmarried elleth in Eryn Galen who would not envy you a little, Lindomiel, if you were to capture the king’s heart,” she sighed.

“They may be envious, but they will still be without hope. I do not think there is an unmarried elleth in Eryn Galen that has not already tried and failed to attract the king’s attention,” someone else said.

Marti decided that she had enough of this conversation. “On the contrary. I would say a good many have succeeded in that endeavor to some degree or another.” That comment brought the room to silence as everyone stared at her.

There was no measure of truth to that statement at all. Prince Thranduil had always been very decorous with his father’s subjects. True, it was rumored that he had been more solicitous of female attention in his youth in Lindon and Sirion, but few of those ladies had come to Eryn Galen to prove the claims. And while it could not be said that Thranduil had never kissed maidens here in Greenwood, he certainly had not played loose with anyone’s feelings. The ellyth he kissed he had intentions towards. Ones that simply did not come to fruition for whatever reason.

And that aside, even if Thranduil had kissed every female on the face of Arda, it was not something you would say in such a setting—his mother’s workshop in the presence of his mother’s ladies-in-waiting.

But Lindomiel only laughed. “Indeed. You should hear what my adar says about your king. When I first mentioned to him that I had met the King of Eryn Galen, I received a two-hour lecture that included names and dates of probably every elleth he ever looked at in Sirion and Lindon, when my adar lived in close proximity to Aran Oropher’s family. My adar then proceeded to supply me with conjecture and rumor on Prince Thranduil’s behavior in Eryn Galen. It was quite laughable really. Oh!” she exclaimed now laughing in earnest. “And I wish you could have seen the look on Thranduil’s face when I told him what my adar had said!”

This was met with astonished and nervous laughter. “You told him?”

“Of course. What better way to get a feel for the truth of it? I thought he might faint! Truly. He was so offended. You know that stern look he does?” She began to imitate it and the ladies laughed again. “He put that on his face and I thought he might go extract some satisfaction from my adar. Really, however the king might have behaved in the high spirits of his youth, he is clearly much more…modest now.”

“Is that so?” Marti said with an arched eyebrow and a voice that rose in pitch.

Lindomiel only laughed. “Yes, it is so,” she replied dryly.

This drew knowing laughter from the married ladies and reactions that ranged from modest giggles to lustful sighs from the maidens. There was no one who did not think the king was handsome.

“Well, I hope you find that your visit to Eryn Galen proves interesting, Lindomiel,” one of the girls concluded meaningfully.

“Thank you,” Lindomiel smirked.

Marti glowered, her face hidden behind her loom.

Later, as the ladies slowly left for lunch, Marti lingered behind. Lindomiel stayed as well, still working to achieve some level of mastery over the interlocked weft pattern Dieneryn had been teaching her. Marti came behind Lindomiel, pretending to look at the tapestry, but in reality glaring at Lindomiel. Lindomiel caught the direction of her eyes from the corner of her own, but could not comprehend her expression. She stopped her weaving and looked at Marti questioningly. Marti openly glared at her. The day’s conversation had angered her beyond words.

“You know, whatever impression Thranduil has managed to give you, your adar’s interpretation fell closer to reality,” she finally said, obviously referencing their earlier conversation.

Lindomiel frowned at that. “I know that to not be the truth, Marti,” she said firmly and very coolly.

“Lindomiel, I have been with the king myself. I speak from experience.”

Lindomiel looked up at that involuntarily. She could not conceal her surprise.

Marti felt a glow of pleasure at how she had shocked the little princess. She looked at her airily. “Indeed. He and I passed a very passionate evening in that talan at the edge of the forest. I will never forget how his lips felt as they fell to the neckline of my dress. I am very thankful I wore a low cut dress that night. Or how his hands felt…” her voice trailed off at the memory for she was truly lost in it. Marti’s hands ran up her waist and over her breasts as she spoke. And that fact was not missed by Lindomiel.

Lindomiel looked down. “I would not think you would care to share such an intimate moment publicly,” she said quietly.

Marti smirked at her. “Forgive me if I have embarrassed you, my lady. It must be uncomfortable to know that so many ellyth have enjoyed the embrace of the elf that so interests you, but I fear they have. If that is important to you, perhaps it is best that you know about his actions before you become too involved. But I would not stop my pursuit if I were you. At least not until you have a chance to experience an evening with him. He is a passionate lover.”

Lindomiel blinked in utter shock at that. “That is enough of this conversation, I think,” she said quietly, standing and turning from her loom. She left the workshop without a backward glance.

Marti followed her departure with her eyes, a malicious smile on her lips.

Lindomiel walked with outward calm from the queen’s workshop, but she was furious. She was young, but she had been raised in the court in Lothlorien. She was completely familiar with all aspects of court life, including the less desirable ones like rumormongers. It had not taken her long to realize that was what Marti was. She was well aware of what Marti had said about her in the past, but that conversation had been revolting. And one that needed to be reported to Thranduil. If Marti was willing to make such damaging commentary about the king to her, what else would she do? Lindomiel glanced at the doors of the Great Hall to judge the prospects of seeing the king promptly. They were slim. Elven guards stood at the doors with their mannish counterparts, clearly indicating that the day's negotiations were in progress. Lindomiel stared at them across the distance of the courtyard, momentarily distracted.

“The king will be busy all day, my lady,” a voice said from behind her.

For the third time in only half a day, Lindomiel jumped and turned quickly. Behind her stood Aradunnon, looking at her with alarm and apology.

“Forgive me if I startled you, my lady. I certainly did not mean to,” he said quickly.

Lindomiel laughed lightly, shaking her head. “You and your brother need a bell around your necks. You have both done that to me today.”

“And it is only noon. What a fine start to the day for you,” he replied sarcastically. “But I fear it will not end well either. The king will be quite busy all day, as I said.”

Lindomiel grew serious again. “I know. He told me this morning when I saw him. I need to tell him something that someone said to me, though. Something he should be aware of.”

Aradunnon frowned at that and her grim expression. “Is it something important enough to interrupt his meeting? I will call him out of it if you think it is necessary.”

Lindomiel shook her head. “No, it is not so important to interrupt negotiations with foreigners,” she said quietly. Then she looked at Aradunnon. “I am surprised you are not with him.”

Aradunnon smiled. “Engwe and Thranduil will be difficult enough for the poor men to endure. My presence is not required,” he joked and Lindomiel laughed. “I do not generally concern myself with foreign trade, my lady. That is Celonhael and Golwon’s domain, not mine. I limit myself to military matters.” He smiled at her suddenly. “Since I am free, perhaps I can entertain you for the afternoon. Amoneth and I were going to go for a ride in the forest along with your lady mother. Would you like to come?”

Lindomiel considered for a moment. “Yes, I think I will come. Thank you. I need the distraction.” Lindomiel had no desire to return to the workshop after lunch. She happily took Aradunnon’s arm and allowed him to lead her off to the stables. She could talk to Thranduil in the evening.

*~*~*

Amglaur sat in the courtyard in Eryn Galen’s capital city, watching his daughter. She had emerged from Dieneryn’s workshop with an expression on her face that Amglaur read with perfect ease, though no one else was likely to do so. Lindomiel was furious and hiding it expertly. That piqued Amglaur’s curiosity because, like her father, Lindomiel rarely bothered to censor her interactions. The only reason she might do so would be for matters of court propriety and that meant her anger likely involved Thranduil in some way. That was certainly interesting.

Amglaur intended to intercept his daughter as she proceeded across the courtyard, and so was quite vexed when Aradunnon diverted her instead. Amglaur liked Aradunnon even less than he liked Thranduil. When they headed in the direction of the royal stable, Amglaur frowned. He knew his wife and Lindomiel’s friend intended to ride with the prince today. Lindomiel apparently was joining them. He would have to wait to find out what had displeased his daughter.

Amglaur felt someone watching him and his eyes scanned the courtyard. Finally they fell on a dark-haired elleth. She was looking at him after obviously glaring at Lindomiel. Amglaur’s eyes narrowed. The elleth looked at him for a moment and then strode across the lawn. Amglaur recognized her as she got closer—this was the elleth that draped herself on the king at the banquet his first night in Greenwood. The one Thranduil seemed so desperate to avoid. Amglaur snorted to himself. No wonder she was glaring at Lindomiel.

The dark-haired elleth approached him directly. When she came to a stop in front of him, he stood out of courtesy, but his muscles tensed involuntarily. This elleth seemed very…wrong somehow.

“Lord Amglaur, correct?” she asked in clipped tones.

Amglaur raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Do we know each other?”

“We do not. I am Marti,” she responded.

Amglaur frowned. The elleth offered no patronymic or realm. He simply stared at her silently, his naturally imposing air evident in his posture and expression.

Marti did not seem the least affected by it. “You are Lindomiel’s adar.”

It was not a question, so Amglaur did not respond to it. He continued studying her, trying to determine why she set him on edge.

“I have observed that you do not seem particularly fond of lord Thranduil, yet you are allowing him to court your daughter.”

Amglaur did not allow his reaction to that observation to show in his features at all. Nevertheless, he was stunned. How did this elleth think that topic of conversation might concern her? Amglaur could guess the answer to that—she was jealous and ill-mannered enough to make a display of it.

“You would do well to curtail your daughter’s interactions with the king. He cares nothing for her. He is merely trifling with her.”

Amglaur arched one eyebrow. “Is that so?” he asked coolly. As much as he did not like Thranduil, he sincerely doubted that.

“Yes, it is so. I know that because he and I are involved as well.”

Amglaur looked at the elleth for a moment before allowing an amused smiled to claim his lips. “In your mind perhaps,” he replied mockingly. “I saw the way you threw yourself at the king on the night that I arrived here. And I saw his reaction. He could not rid himself of your company fast enough. I do not think you want to embarrass yourself further with this conversation. Please leave.”

Marti’s mouth formed a hard, furious line and her brows drew together. She was wrath itself. But she looked him directly in the eye. “The king is not comfortable around me because he has something to be ashamed of. Think about that, for it is true, and consider if he is suitable for your daughter.”

With that, Marti walked away, leaving Amglaur staring at her back. That elleth was plainly deluded. There was no doubt in Amglaur’s mind of that. There was also no doubt that her last statement had been true—at least in her own mind. There was no deception in her eyes. Amglaur sat back down and turned his gaze to the Great Hall. He definitely intended to have a word with the king when his meetings concluded.

*~*~*

Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

Ellon/ellyn--Male elf(s)

Elleth/ellyth--Female elf(s)

Adar/ada--Father/dad

Aran--King

Chapter 19: A half truth is a whole lie

The stars were bright in the evening sky by the time the men began to emerge from the Great Hall. Thranduil was anxious to escape himself. Negotiations with foreigners were something that rarely happened when Oropher had been king of the Woodland Realm. On the few occasions that such events did occur, Thranduil had never been part of them. His responsibilities were always related to military matters and a few ceremonial duties that his father practically forced upon him. Therefore, as king, Thranduil found these tasks challenging at best. Intolerable was the most honest description for the way he felt about them, but they could not always be avoided. Now that the work was concluded and the men dismissed, the king listened with barely concealed impatience as Hallion, Celonhael and Golwon made a few closing comments to him. Engwe had already left—fled would describe it better—the very moment he respectfully could. Dieneryn was waiting for her son out of courtesy, but Thranduil could see even his mother was destined to be set free before he was. One of her ladies had appeared at the doors of the Hall and was obviously waiting for the queen.

Theniel was Dieneryn’s closest friend and one of the weavers that worked in the queen’s workshop. Earlier that morning, she had listened to Marti’s comment about the king with open shock. She also noticed that Marti stayed behind to speak further to Lindomiel when the others left for lunch. When Lindomiel was not in the workshop after lunch and did not return at any point in the afternoon Theniel grew concerned. So as soon as the meeting with the Men showed signs of breaking up, she approached the Great Hall and slipped past the elven guards to stand in the back of the room and wait for Dieneryn be available. The queen’s eyebrows rose when she noticed her friend by the doors. Throwing an apologetic glance at Thranduil, Dieneryn stood and walked to the back of the room.

“What is it, Theniel?” she asked with concern in her voice. It was not common for her ladies to interrupt even the end of meetings in the Great Hall. Besides that, Theniel obviously was upset.

Theniel looked at the queen worriedly. “You asked me to tell you if Marti’s gossip crossed the line from merely hurtful and became dangerous. I think it did today.” Pulling the queen aside to one corner of the Hall, Theniel quickly related in a soft voice what Marti had said in the workshop that morning. Dieneryn listened with a furrowed brow. “And when we left for lunch, Lindomiel stayed as she usually does to continue practicing, but Marti stayed as well. I fear she intended to say more.” Theniel paused. “It was not so much what she said today. It was not so very different from the rest of the gossip she has spread—except, of course, this time her subject was the king and not Lady Lindomiel. Besides the fact that she has turned her attacks on the king himself, what really drew my attention was her demeanor. It was truly…spiteful…hateful. I cannot put my finger on it, but it made me very uneasy.”

Dieneryn had listened to the story with increasing anger that was evident in her voice when she spoke. “I will speak to the king and Lindomiel. Thank you for telling me, Theniel.”

Theniel nodded and they quietly departed together. As she walked with her friend, Dieneryn wondered what Marti had said to Lindomiel. She also thought about the best way to handle Marti’s apparently increasing antagonism towards her son.

*~*~*

Amglaur sat in the courtyard and watched the procession of Mannish delegates file out of the Great Hall and wander to the stables for their horses. The men had not stayed in the city, but rather had camped somewhere in the forest. Soon Amglaur saw the king leave the Great Hall as well. He stood and moved to follow him.

Thranduil strode across the courtyard, Hallion and Celonhael still talking to him animatedly. At this point, the king was barely listening. His brows drew together as he noticed Amglaur was approaching him and he sighed audibly. Confrontations with the Prince of Lorien were one thing Thranduil did not think would be a good idea given his current humor. Unfortunately, it appeared that, like negotiations, a confrontation with Amglaur might not be easy to avoid. He looked very determined to speak with Thranduil. The king paused in his advance towards his office when Amglaur finally reached him. Hallion and Celonhael fell silent at the expression on Amglaur’s face.

“I want to speak to you, lord Thranduil,” Amglaur said firmly with no explanation.

Thranduil looked at him tiredly. “It cannot possibly wait until tomorrow, lord Amglaur? It has been a trying day.”

“I do not think it should wait,” Amglaur replied with a resolve that Thranduil recognized he would not be able to dodge.

“Join me in my office then,” he responded with no enthusiasm.

Amglaur followed the king and his advisors to his office and stood aside discreetly while Hallion quietly went through a few points with Thranduil. When his advisors finally left, the king sat at a meeting table in the room and indicated that Amglaur should join him.

“What can I do for you, Amglaur?” Thranduil asked in a level tone of voice that hid his irritation at being forced to deal with the prince at that moment.

“You can explain to me how you know an elleth here. One by the name of Marti.”

Thranduil frowned. “I do not know her at all beyond knowing her name and the fact that she weaves with my naneth.”

Amglaur returned his gaze evenly. “That is not what she told me this afternoon in the courtyard. She told me that I should not allow Lindomiel anywhere near you because you and she are involved and you are simply trifling with Lindomiel.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened as Amglaur spoke. “You do not believe that?” he asked incredulously.

Amlgaur looked at Thranduil narrowly for a moment. The moment Lindomiel had mentioned Thranduil’s name in Lorien, Amglaur had been set against her growing attachment to him, certain he would not like Thranduil any better than he had liked Oropher. He still wanted to feel that way. But as he spent time in Greenwood, in his heart of hearts, he realized there was increasingly little justification for such sentiments. Amglaur sighed quietly.

“I do not believe it,” he finally said. “I have seen how you interact with Marti. You plainly do not care for her. I told her that.” Amglaur paused and fixed a sharp look on Thranduil. “Her response was that you treat her as you do because you and she share a past that you are ashamed of.”

Thranduil blinked. Then he drew a long breath. “I do not ‘share a past’ with Marti. I barely know her. I will not deny that several years ago I…dealt with her in a way that I am not at all proud of on one occasion. But that incident does not affect the way I interact with her now—I scarcely spoke to her before and I scarcely speak to her now because I do not now nor have I ever enjoyed her company. She is insane if she thinks that I am in the least interested in her, much less involved with her.” He paused. “I do not care to discuss that incident unless you will force me to do so. I assure you, it in no way need affect my relationship with Lindomiel.”

Amglaur studied Thranduil for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I trust you in this respect, Thranduil,” he said quietly and did not miss the look of relief that flashed in Thranduil’s eyes before he smothered it. Then he continued in a stronger voice. “But if I may offer some unsolicited advice, beware of Marti. I would go as far as to say be afraid of her. She intends you no good.” His eyes narrowed coldly. “And may the Valar help her if she directs her attentions to Lindomiel.”

Thranduil nodded and Amglaur noted in Thranduil’s eyes the same hard gleam that he knew was in his own. “Indeed,” the king replied curtly.

Amglaur frowned and he very begrudgingly admitted to himself that he also trusted that Thranduil cared for both Lindomiel’s happiness and safety. Possibly as much as he did himself. The prince of Lorien folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair, glaring angrily at Thranduil. He had no desire to pursue this more charitable line of thought.

Thranduil studied Amglaur’s rapidly changing expressions with some interest. When he finally settled back into his typical angry slouch, Thranduil’s own expression grew curious. “If I may ask, how did your conversation with Marti come about? I did not know that you and she had even been introduced.”

“We have not. She followed Lindomiel out of Dieneryn’s workshop this morning, glaring daggers at her. When Lindomiel went for a ride with your brother, Marti approached me and told me this with absolutely no preamble what so ever.”

Thranduil gaped at him. “You jest.”

Amglaur raised his eyebrows. “I do not. I told you—the lady is trouble.”

“Apparently so,” Thranduil began, but he was interrupted by a knock on his office door. “Come in,” he called, on the one hand thankful for any excuse to dismiss Amglaur and on the other wondering if he was to have any peace this night. He did not need more tension after this conversation.

A servant entered the office. “My lord,” he began with a bow.

“What do you need, Cyllon?”

The servant glanced at Amglaur. “My lord, lady Lindomiel just returned from riding with lord Aradunnon and she saw the lights in your office. She asked me to see if you are available to speak to her. She says she has something most urgent to tell you if you could possibly see her tonight.”

Thranduil’s eyes flashed to Amglaur before fixing on the servant. “Of course, Cyllon. She was riding? Is she by the stables?”

“She is in the courtyard, my lord. Along with lord Aradunnon, lady Amoneth and lady Limmiel. They seem very excited about something, my lord.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and stood. “Let us go see what this is about then,” he said, rising. Amglaur followed him from the office. Thranduil very much hoped that Lindomiel’s excitement was not inspired by the same type of tales that Amglaur just told him.

As Thranduil and Amglaur descended from the flet, Lindomiel, Limmiel, Amoneth and Aradunnon were walking towards it. Aradunnon looked at his brother with a contrite expression that made the king frown and wonder what his brother had done this time. Limmiel’s expression betrayed her amusement as she came up next to her husband and took his arm affectionately. The enthusiasm of the two younger ellyth could not be missed. Upon seeing Thranduil, Lindomiel practically ran the short distance now separating them. When she reached him, she took his hand excitedly, eyes shining brightly.

“You will never guess what we did today, Thranduil,” Lindomiel exclaimed in an enthusiastic voice.

“I am sure I will not,” the King of Greenwood replied with an amused voice, glancing at the elves present in the courtyard witnessing this display. They were smiling. There were not many people in Greenwood that would publicly address the king by name and there were none that would clasp his hand so eagerly. Thranduil smiled as well. At least it did not appear that Lindomiel had an encounter like her father’s today.

“We went riding in the forest and we came across the camp of the men you were meeting with today. Some of them were there, so we stopped and talked with them and they had some women with them. As I mentioned this morning, I have never met any men before. They are fascinating.” She fixed him with a teasingly reproving glare. “I am very glad I got to meet them despite your unwillingness to introduce me to them.”

Thranduil’s eyebrows rose at this and he looked over Lindomiel’s shoulder at her father. Amglaur looked somewhat alarmed.

“At least lord Thranduil has some sense,” he said irritably, glaring at Aradunnon. Aradunnon only grimaced slightly.

Limmiel rolled her eyes dramatically at her husband’s reaction and her daughter’s excitement over meeting the men.

Thranduil watched all this unbelievingly. “Do you mean to tell me that you spent the entire afternoon in the men’s camp?” he said incredulously.

Lindomiel nodded, happily ignoring her father’s displeasure. “They seemed very interested in talking to us. And just that in itself was exciting. I have never spoken Westron with anyone who spoke it natively. We had lunch with them. I have never seen a deer prepared that way before…”

“Deer? They are hunting?” Thranduil interrupted, looking at Aradunnon. Thranduil only allowed his own people to hunt in the area immediately around the city.

“…I had never heard of the spices they said they used, but they were not bad at all. And the things they served with it. What did they call them, Aradunnon?”

“Potatoes, my lady,” he responded quietly. Aradunnon had apparently already endured a thorough exploration of the wonders of potatoes.

“That is right, potatoes. They were very good. They said they grow wild in the forest too, but the ones they had are a special variety that they cultivate.” She and Amoneth prattled on for several minutes about lunch with the men and the different clothing of the women and a wide variety of other interesting differences before concluding. “Not to mention the hairstyles of the men. They have hair on their faces…really I do not think I have ever seen anything that hairy…”

“Perhaps we should take her to see a dwarf next…” Amglaur interjected quietly, with dry sarcasm.

Thranduil snorted quietly and looked at Amglaur with amused surprise.

Again, Lindomiel ignored her father. “They were not bad though, really. Not like one hears. If you could suffer the smell, they were really quite pleasant. But between the smoking and the fact that someone should introduce them to soap and the river…I am certainly glad they were not staying in the city.”

By the time Lindomiel had finished her excited description of her afternoon, the older elves around her could barely contain themselves. Lindomiel was a very young elleth and that sometimes was quite obvious.

Thranduil looked at his brother with a teasing look. “So, you had your own little summit with the Mannish representatives? I thought you had no interest in trade negotiations. Perhaps you would like to assume responsibility for such endeavors in the future. I would be happy to allow that.”

Aradunnon looked sharply at his brother, but he spoke in a light voice. “I assure you, Thranduil, that if we had been able to leave, we would have. For that matter, if we had been able to stop Lindomiel from approaching their camp, we would have. But moving that elleth is like moving the mountain.” He grinned at her and Lindomiel smirked back at him playfully. “She must have inspected every square inch of their camp and she had every story of their people since the first generation of man.”

“And do not doubt the men enjoyed entertaining us,” Limmiel said in a dry voice with a meaningful look that encompassed her two attractive companions. “If the men meeting with you had not already left by the time we ran across their camp, I think you would have been very lonely in the Great Hall, my lord Thranduil.”

Thranduil shook his head, now serious. “That was not safe, Aradunnon. I do not think I like my three female guests from Lothlorien in the woods alone with a camp of men.” Then he frowned, remembering something. “Did you put a stop to their hunting?”

Aradunnon smiled indulgently. “We took some of your guard with us, so we were perfectly safe and yes, I stopped the hunting.”

Thranduil was still shaking his head. “Well, we managed to get the agreements we wanted with them. Perhaps next time we should negotiate for these potatoes.”

“I believe Lindomiel will never be happy eating deer without them again,” Limmiel declared teasingly.

Lindomiel smirked at her parents. Then, having related all the interesting details of her adventure, she turned to more serious topics. “Thranduil, do you have a moment to speak to me? I know it is late, but I would prefer to not let this wait.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows playfully. “Your exploit with the Men was not the topic you wished to discuss? Then, of course, my lady. Would you like to go for a walk?”

She looked at him seriously. “No, this conversation would be more suited to someplace private. Your office, perhaps. It is not a social topic, but rather one of safety, I think.”

Thranduil frowned slightly at her solemnity, then his eyes widened at her words. His attitude became serious as well. “Very well. We can certainly go to my office. Should Hallion join us? Or Conuiön?”

“Let me speak to you. Then you can decide who else you want to share this with.”

“As you wish,” Thranduil replied, clearly curious, but gesturing for her to precede him up the stairs to his office and nodding his farewells to the others present.

Lindomiel turned to go to the flet, but then impulsively she threw her arms around Aradunnon in a brief hug. “Thank you so much for indulging me with the men, Aradunnon. That was the most fun I have had in a very long time.”

Aradunnon smiled and glanced at Thranduil. “I am pleased you enjoyed yourself, my lady,” he said with quiet amusement.

Then Lindomiel tiptoed to kiss her father on the cheek in a placating gesture. “I will not be long. Please wait for me to return so I can defend myself before you and nana start making fun of my visit with the men.”

Amglaur looked at his daughter with teasing eyes. “It is easier to win an argument with you when you are not present Lindomiel, so I think we will not wait.”

Lindomiel only laughed at that. Taking Thranduil by the arm, she led him to his office. Once there, she sat at the same table the king had occupied with her father earlier. When Thranduil sat next to her, she looked at him gravely and broached the topic at hand with no further pleasantries.

“You know Marti, of course?” Lindomiel began.

Thranduil returned her gaze apprehensively. “I do.”

Lindomiel looked down. “Occasionally, the ladies in your naneth’s workshop joke with me about you. Nothing more than harmless chatter…foolishness. Today, one of the ladies said that many unmarried ellyth had tried but failed to capture your attentions. Marti responded to that comment saying that a good number of unmarried ellyth had succeeded in capturing your attentions.” Lindomiel paused.

“I believe we have already had this conversation, Lindomiel…”

She shook her head and waved him silent. “I am certainly not saying that I believed her. That is not the purpose of this conversation. I am telling you this because you should know what she is saying about you publicly.” Lindomiel looked back at Thranduil. “And it gets worse. After the other ladies went to lunch and we were alone, Marti told me that you and she had…shared an intimate moment. Her description was graphic.”

Lindomiel intended to continue, warning Thranduil that she thought he should be concerned that Marti might say such things to anyone on a regular basis, but the look on the king’s face silenced her. To her astonishment, he looked plainly guilty. Lindomiel’s eyes widened.

“Surely there is no truth to what she said?” she demanded, color rising to her cheeks both from anger and from embarrassment.

Thranduil had been unwilling to discuss this incident with Amglaur, but he was equally unwilling to try to hide it from Lindomiel. Marti’s statement had some basis in fact and he would not lie to Lindomiel. “Lindomiel, I cannot deny that what she said may have had some truth in it, but I doubt she portrayed it to you as it really happened,” he whispered looking at her sadly.

Lindomiel stared him. “Would you care to tell me your side of this?” she replied stiffly.

Thranduil remained silent a moment. Then he spoke in a soft voice. “This happened seven years ago on the one yén anniversary of my adar’s death…the very day he fell." He looked away from her and into the past. "I saw him die, did I ever tell you that? He was right next to me. I saw the arrow…I swear I felt it.” His hand went unconsciously to a place on his chest. He sighed and closed his eyes. “You cannot understand how it felt to see that…my adar had brought so many of us through the fall of Menegroth, the attack on Sirion, the War of Wrath, travel across all of Eriador. He was invincible. He was the one thing in my life that had always been there as I lost everything else around me. When he fell…they say I fought bravely at the siege of Barad-dur, but I did not. I fought like someone who did not care if they lived or died because I did not. I think if I did not have the responsibility of the entire army’s safety to focus me…” Thranduil shook his head. “The point is, on the night Marti described to you, I was sitting in the talan where I normally watch the sunrise trying to find some…peace. I wanted to be alone and I had guards at the foot of the tree to enforce that wish. So Marti climbed through the trees to the talan. She told me bluntly…well she told me the reason why she had come and she…” Thranduil frowned. “She kissed me and put her hands on me and I admit that I did react. I do not deny that I kissed her or that I touched her in ways that were not appropriate. When I realized what I was doing I felt as if…I do not even know if I can describe it…disgusted, I was disgusted with myself. That was a darkness like I had never felt before. A shadow to rival any I felt near Barad-dur.” He nodded thoughtfully as if just realizing that himself. “I did feel the same presence as I did in the Enemy’s shadow when I stepped back and looked at her. I did not feel the slightest desire or feeling for her. Or at least not any positive feelings. I do not know what came over me that night. I was thinking of my adar and I was not myself. I have always been deeply ashamed of what happened, but it did not involve anything I wanted to feel or anything I would ever choose to feel again.”

As he spoke, Lindomiel looked at Thranduil, her eyes filled with compassion and pain for him. Her mind raced with all the tragedies he had seen in his life. As he had just said—the kinslayings, the War of Wrath, the associated destruction of his homes in Menegroth and Sirion and the loss of so much family in those places. Lindomiel had never known anyone to die or even sail West. Most of Thranduil’s family was dead and so many of them killed by elves. She realized that she could not even fathom all he had endured. She suddenly had an overwhelming, fierce desire to shield him from experiencing any further pain. Marti’s actions, ones that only had served to hurt him further, infuriated her.

“I am sorry I made you relive that and I do not blame you for it. I understand what happened and I understand perfectly well why Marti told me that story,” she whispered, leaning closer to him and pulling him into an embrace. He returned it with a force that surprised her. She tightened her arms around him reflexively and stroked her hand down his hair. “I am very sorry I made you relive that,” she repeated, turning her head to kiss his cheek.

He pulled away from her slightly, looking at her intently. “I am very thankful for your understanding, Lindomiel. I swear to you…”

She placed her finger over his lips and shook her head. “Your past is none of my business, Thranduil. You are nearly four millennia old. I am certain you have kissed a few maidens. I would be lying if I told you that I had never kissed an elf. I have indeed kissed a good many more than one. But I have no doubt that you have never done anything dishonorable. What Marti did was despicable. She clearly is completely obsessed with you. I already could see that. But now hearing about this! She truly frightens me. Thranduil, she took advantage of you when she clearly knew you were in pain—how could she not guess that something was wrong if she had to climb through the trees just to approach you? But the point is, anything that happened was her doing, not yours. I would not hold you accountable for it.”

Thranduil drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he whispered softly, reaching to caress her cheek.

Lindomiel’s eyes flashed to his at that declaration. Those were words they had not yet used.  She had seen his love before tonight in his actions and simply in his eyes, but it was good to finally hear him declare it. She studied him for a second longer before leaning forward again and putting her arms around his neck. “And I love you,” she whispered against his hair.

He pulled her closer in response, placing a kiss on her hair. Then he released her, tempted to place another kiss on her cheek. But he was not certain if now was a completely appropriate time to allow this to develop further. So instead, he sat back, contenting himself by drawing his hand softly against her cheek.

Lindomiel could easily read that he would have preferred to do more than that. She laughed at him softly and he raised his eyebrows. In response she gave him an exasperated look. “Thranduil, how long must we play this game? I feel the same harmony in your presence that you feel in mine. Even elflings might recognize their perfect compliment and become betrothed until they come of age, but I am no child. I recognize what we share and I know you do too.”

“Of course I do, Lindomiel. Though I would have never imagined how deeply it would affect me…”

“Yes, I see that it has affected you. You are clearly completely lost. Nana says that is because you are a naturally passionate and intense personality, but ada says it is because you are old and depraved…” she interrupted with a joking tone.

Thranduil blew out a sharp but clearly amused breath at that, happy to return to a lighter mood. “I am so pleased that you and your parents have performed such a thorough analysis of the situation, Lindomiel,” he said sarcastically.

She smirked at him.

He looked at her wryly before becoming serious again. “I am a very ‘passionate and intense personality,’ Lindomiel. I tend to extremes of emotions and I always have. Because I am older, I am in better control of myself than I was in my youth. Where we are concerned, I tend to think I am so intensely drawn to you because we are so perfectly matched.” He lowered his eyes and his voice. “I cannot describe to you how I feel when you are with me…completely content…whole in a way I have never experienced…drawn to you…” he shook his head, brow furrowing and unable to continue for lack of words.

Her hand rose to caress his cheek and she left it lying against his face softly. “You do not have to explain how you feel to me, Thranduil, for I am experiencing the same thing.”

He looked at her intently, his emotions written plainly on his face. Then he looked down again. “But we both know that for someone in my position there is more involved in this decision than simply being drawn to one another.”

She stifled the urge to roll her eyes and smiled indulgently at him instead. “Your concern that I be comfortable in Eryn Galen and your lifestyle,” she said nodding. “What must I do to convince you that I love Eryn Galen and the people here? How many times must I tell you that?”

“Lindomiel,” he replied softly. “I want you to take this topic seriously. I want you to be happy. If you married any other elf, your life would be considerably easier. If you bind yourself to me, your entire life will be public. Festivals will become responsibilities. And although naneth manages my household, I am certain you will feel pressure to take on some of those duties…”

Lindomiel was laughing. “Thranduil, I have taken this seriously. Do you think I have been completely idle here? Your lady mother and I have discussed what my responsibilities to your estate would be at length. I am already perfectly familiar with a public life. And I have been in Eryn Galen an entire season. I am sufficiently familiar with it to say with confidence that I find it lovely here. I am happy when I am with you. Surely you understand that it matters very little whether I accept your lifestyle or not—because I cannot be happy without you.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows, surprise evident, but said nothing.

She shook her head. “You are hopeless, Thranduil,” she laughed, knowing that she would get no further with this discussion tonight then she did any other night. So instead of pursuing it, she changed the topic, focusing on the original purpose for this meeting. She wanted to make sure she had made her point clearly.

“Regarding Marti,” she began, “I did not tell you this to ask for explanations because we are courting. I need no such explanations—I am certain I know you better. I told you about this because if she speaks this way about the King of Eryn Galen on a regular basis, that is cause for concern. By speaking as she does, she demonstrates a lack of respect that is unacceptable and her words serve to undermine your reputation in a way that could be very dangerous.”

Thranduil frowned at that analysis. “It is idle gossip from a spurned elleth. I doubt it could have serious political ramifications,” he replied, but did not sound entirely certain of his own words.

Lindomiel looked at him firmly. “Thranduil, I have seen this in Lorien. Amroth…I love him dearly, but he is making a fool of himself pursuing a Silvan maiden named Nimrodel. She is a friend of mine, though we are not close. She is closer to our mutual friend Mithrellas, who I think you met. The vast majority of people in Lorien believe Amroth is a very fine king and they love him. But there is a small group that feels he dedicates too much time to courting and too little to governance. They began as a few, separate malcontents. I have watched that group grow and unify—very slowly, but steadily nonetheless—because of well-placed gossip generated by a few of its most outspoken members.” She paused for emphasis. “How you manage Eryn Galen is not my affair, but I cannot in good conscience fail to caution you to take Marti seriously. She has been foolish thus far—I am not a good target for her gossip for I will never believe her or be frightened off by such things. What if she spoke to more easily swayed people?  An obvious example—imagine what my adar would do if he heard the story Marti told me.”

Lindomiel was surprised when Thranduil only laughed ruefully. “Apparently after Marti spoke to you, she tracked your adar down. He has already discussed this topic with me. Though I did not provide him with the same level of detail that I gave you.”

Lindomiel’s eyes grew wide as the moon. She was completely distracted again by that revelation. “Valar, Thranduil! What did he do? He would not take something like this lightly.”

Thranduil smiled at her concern. “Surprisingly, he did not believe her either. Like you, he only warned me that Marti was a danger.”

Lindomiel looked at Thranduil with pleased amazement. “Well, that is a step in the right direction,” she exclaimed.

Thranduil smirked. “He told me that it pained him to admit it.”

Lindomiel only laughed at that. “I cannot believe you discussed this with my adar, but it only proves I am right. If she would speak to my adar, who she does not even know, she will gossip to anyone. And her intent is nothing but malicious. Choosing my adar to speak to demonstrates a clear intent to do more than simply gossip idly. She clearly intended to cause damage. And that was not the first time. She has done the same thing to me. I am perfectly aware of what she says about me on a regular basis and the affect it has had. I would not want her to do the same to you.”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed dangerously at that and he leaned forward slightly in his chair, hands tightly grasping its arms. “What did you say? What do you mean that you are aware of ‘what she says about you on a regular basis?’ What has she said? And what effect has it had?”

Lindomiel looked at Thranduil cautiously. “I can fight my own battles, Thranduil. I do not need your protection…”

“I asked you what she has said,” he demanded firmly.

Lindomiel grimaced slightly, recognizing his determination and the futility of fighting it. “She spread some rumors regarding our swim…the one of the first day I was here…and a few other things that we have done that might be looked upon in a less than innocent light if misconstrued. Her intent was obviously to paint me as…well, as here to seduce you, I suppose. Some of her friends believe her and treat me rather distantly.”

Thranduil looked at her levelly. “You should not have to endure such disrespect, nor shall you,” he replied simply with carefully controlled anger. Lindomiel had seen it often enough in her father’s reactions to recognize it in Thranduil.

“That is my point, Thranduil. When she speaks the same of you, you should not tolerate such disrespect. My advice is do not provoke her, simply be cautious of her. She is an annoyance now. Take care that she does not become a threat.”

Thranduil looked at her intently for a moment and she met his gaze firmly. Mouth a tight line, Thranduil leaned back in his chair and made an effort to relax. “I will heed your advice, Lindomiel. I will take Marti more seriously and I will think of a way to deal with her.” His expression softened. “And I cannot begin to express to you how grateful I am for the way you handled this situation.”

She smiled. “There is nothing to be thankful for.”

“Indeed there is. Not everyone would have reacted as you did.” Thranduil stood with a wry expression on his face. “Perhaps we should take ourselves into the public courtyard if we intend to spend more time together tonight. No point in giving the gossips something to talk about. My office is too secluded.”

Lindomiel smirked. “I rather like it. We need more time in such locations,” she replied, but she did rise and take his arm.

“Do not tempt me, Lindomiel,” he retorted playfully. “Remember, I am old and depraved.”

Lindomiel laughed but looked at him slyly. “Perhaps I was trying to tempt you. You need a little temptation, Thranduil. You are far too restrained.”

Thranduil only laughed to that. He doubted there were many people that would describe him as restrained.

*~*~*

Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

Elleth/ellyth--Female elf(s)

Adar/ada--Father/dad

Chapter 20: Creating new memories

The next morning, Thranduil sat in the flet where he always watched the sun rise. He had slept poorly, mulling over yesterday evening’s conversations, so he arrived in the flet long before the first glow of light was to be found in the sky. Until the sun traveled over the horizon, he watched the stars. When the horizon was only beginning to brighten, he heard someone climbing up the ladder and frowned at that. Everyone knew he did not want to be disturbed in the mornings.

As the person climbing up approached the top, Thranduil spoke without moving from the cushion he was seated on. “You had better be here to inform me that we are being invaded…” he trailed off his threat as Lindomiel appeared and his expression showed that he was pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing here? Or awake this early for that matter?”

She smiled at him, straightening her gown from her climb. “Good morning to you too,” she said sarcastically.

He laughed and stood. Bowing slightly, he took her hand and escorted her to the cushions against the trunk of the tree. This flet was nothing more than a platform with some awnings that served no other purpose than to provide a beautiful view. It was unfurnished, save some cushions that someone had dragged up for one of their trysts. When she was comfortably seated, he settled himself next to her and kissed her hand. “Good morning, my lady,” he said with exaggerated politeness.

She smirked at him, looking at him from the corner of her eye before turning her attention to the sunrise. It was fiery red this morning. Some people thought a red sunrise spelt bad omen. She knew the sailors in the harbors at Belfalas had a saying: ‘Red in the morning, sailors take warning. Red at night, sailors delight.’ She thought such things were foolish. Anytime there was a beautiful sunrise or sunset, she enjoyed it.

Thranduil looked at the elleth seated next to him on the cushions. The pink light of the sunrise reflected off her skin, making it glow. It danced off her hair, glinting as if reflected off gold itself. Unable to stop himself, he reached over and ran his hand down the length of her hair softly.

At that, she turned from the sunrise and towards him.

“May I ask to what I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?” he asked, still smiling.

She gazed at him, a soft look in her eyes. “I was thinking about some things we said last night. I have told you several times that I would be perfectly happy with you here in Eryn Galen, yet you cannot seem to believe me. I grow bored of the conversation, so I thought perhaps I would show you in perfectly clear terms that my decision on this topic is made,” she whispered.

He raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“I told you last night that I thought you needed a little temptation and you told me once that this was a popular place for certain activities,” she said meaningfully.

His eyes widened with surprise, but also anticipation. He nodded silently, a smile slowly claiming his lips.

She reached up and traced her fingertips across his cheek.

He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath in response to the contact. Being in her mere presence since she arrived in Eryn Galen had awakened in Thranduil a yearning that he had never before experienced. His very soul longed for hers…was drawn to her. Every touch they had shared, as yet all fairly innocent, had served to intensify his desire. She had made her intentions quite clear and Thranduil admitted to himself that he could no longer deny her or himself. If she was certain of her decision, then he wanted this. Indeed knowing how intensely he wanted it, he only hoped that he could control himself in this secluded spot.

Encouraged that he had not tried to resist, Lindomiel ran her hand back into his hair, entangling her fingers in it and letting them run the length until they pulled free.

Valar how such a simple touch inflamed him! Opening his eyes, he reached for her hands and captured them. Holding them in one hand, he caressed her check with the other, drawing his hand across it and to the nape of her neck. He pulled her closer to him and his lips pressed against the cheek he had just caressed. Her eyes fluttered shut. His lips moved from her cheekbone lower to her jaw and across it. The kisses moved to the corner of her mouth, each one awakening in them a desire for yet another kiss…a more intimate one. Finally, she felt his lips press gently against her own. She responded with soft urgency, freeing her hands to put them around his neck. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.

Her body was soft against his muscular chest…her skin warm and smooth as he ran his hands over her bare arms. He lost himself caressing her. His hands played softly up her arms and over her shoulders. For a moment he cradled her face as he rained kissed slowly across her cheek and jaw and on her lips. Then his hands slipped to her hair, fingers tangling in the long, thick locks.

Lindomiel reveled in his touch. She had waited for it long enough. The wait had been worth it. Her heart raced as he kissed her, beating in a strangely irregular pattern that left her breathless. As he caressed her delicately, almost reverently, she moved her hands across his back firmly pulling him close. He was a famed archer and his body reflected that. Muscular arms and chest and back. She felt those muscles harden as he drew her more firmly against him.

Both had kissed others before…but this kiss was much different. With it began the formation of a bond that they had acknowledged would be completed…the union of their fear. Two fear that sang completely in harmony. That made this contact much more intense than any other either had experienced. Much more deeply satisfying. Each caress strengthened the bond…nurtured it and them…drawing them closer to each other, giving them a sample of what the completed bond would be like. Intensifying their desire to see it completed.

It became increasingly apparent to Thranduil that a year’s betrothal would be an impossible thing. But something he nonetheless would comply with, for society demanded it. And if he were to do so, he would have to govern his behavior with Lindomiel over the next year very carefully. Starting now.

He pulled back and looked at her with awe, drawing a long, shuddering breath. She returned his gaze, mouth open slightly and breathing a little harder than normal. Thranduil turned his eyes from her face quickly, doubting his ability to prevent himself from kissing her again.

He was silent for a long moment, looking at the floor of the flet and breathing deeply. “Valar, Lindomiel, I cannot tell you how I love you,” he whispered with a rough voice.

She smiled. “And I love you,” she replied simply, placing a light kiss on his lips.

“Do you indeed?” he whispered.

She looked at him sharply. “Yes, I do. I do not see how I could make it clearer to you than I just did.”

He took a deep breath. “Then may I ask your adar for his permission for us to be betrothed?” he asked softly.

Her eyes lit up and she graced him with the radiant smile that he had fallen completely in love with. “Of course you may,” she breathed. Then she looked at him askance “Honestly Thranduil, you could not have possibly thought my response would be any different.”

He smiled. “I would not take your answer for granted, my lady.” He caressed her cheek. “But it is very good to have this settled.”

That elicited a playful look. “Settled? I think you have to speak to both your naneth and my adar,” she said teasingly.

Thranduil closed his eyes in mock dismay and a faint smile played on his lips. “Naneth is not blind. She has known my intentions for quite a long time. She loves you very much. She will not object.”

“Nor will my adar.”

Thranduil laughed lightly at that. “I hope you are right. I think he will have some objections, but none that cannot be overcome.” She raised her eyebrows and he laughed out loud. “Lindomiel he told me bluntly that he does not like me.”

She laughed at that as well. “Oh and he does not. He was not lying when he said that. You remind him far too much of himself.”

Thranduil sat back with an expression that could be described as nothing but insulted. “I am nothing like your adar,” he exclaimed.

She laughed even harder. “You are exactly like my adar. That is why you cannot get along. Which I find very funny because I know I am exactly like my adar as well.”

He looked at her sidelong. “Well if that is the case, it is a far more charming personality on you than it is him.”

She smiled and kissed him again. “You are hopeless, Thranduil. Love makes you quite foolish. Do you know that?”

He also smiled. “Perhaps. I think my advisors would agree with you at this point. But it also makes me happier than I can remember ever being. And my memory is very long, Lindomiel. After four millennia, it is quite…unsettling to experience something so entirely new and powerful.” He looked at her ruefully. “I have absolutely no idea how I am going to do any work today. I am going to be able to think of nothing but you.”

She grinned at him. “That is as it should be,” she said wickedly. Without another word, she rose and descended the rope ladder to the ground.

He watched her leave, laughing lightly.

*~*~*

Thranduil remained in the flet until well after sunrise before he felt he could leave and face his day. The reports and other paperwork that greeted him in his office seemed particularly bitter medicine that morning. His advisors could not help but laugh at him and he finally laughed with them. Not able to hide or deny his distraction, he dismissed them fully two hours earlier than he usually did with less than half the normal workload accomplished.

“My lady,” he said, addressing his mother. “Will you please stay a moment? I would like to speak with you if it would be convenient.”

Hallion looked at Thranduil hearing that request. Then he and the rest of the ruling council looked at Dieneryn. Dieneryn smiled, but kept her eyes downcast and remained seated as the other advisors stood and began to clear the room. The queen distinctly heard Celonhael mutter, ‘Thank the Valar,’ as he departed with Hallion. The steward’s response was a nod and whispered, ‘It is about time.’ Golwon could be heard saying, ‘Pray he is not going to talk to her about some household matter before you jump to conclusions,’ as they descended the stairs of the flet. Dieneryn struggled to stifle her laughter.

Thranduil intentionally ignored them. He maintained his silence and absently flipped through the various reports in front of him until he was alone with his mother.

“Have you finally decided to ask for her?” she asked the moment the room was empty.

Thranduil smiled and looked over at her. “Is it that obvious?” Then he glanced at the door through which the council had just departed. “I suppose that it is.”

“It could not be more obvious if you made a sign to wear around your neck, ion nin.”

He laughed. “And I assume you do not object? That we have your permission?”

“Of course I do not object. You have my permission and my blessings,” she said standing and coming to put her arms around her son. “I could not be happier for you. I am so thankful that you found someone to love and to love you. At your age I was afraid you never would and that would be more than I could bear.”

“At my age, naneth?” he repeated ruefully. “I am not some doddering old mortal ready to fall over at the next moment.”

She released him and stood over him with a long suffering look. “Thranduil most elves marry soon after they come of age…certainly when they are under two hundred. You are nearly four millennia old. You are ancient compared to Lindomiel.”

“Ancient and depraved,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “Parents are such a treasure.”

Dieneryn smirked at him, obviously curious about the second half of her son’s reference, but he continued before she could question him.

“My lifestyle has hardly been conducive to marriage, naneth. When I came of age we did not even have a roof over our heads. Do you see the difference in our ages as an issue?”

She looked at him sidelong. “I did initially, but now that I know her better, I do not. Obviously you do not see it as a problem?”

He shook his head. “I admit I did when I first met her. And sometimes I do see her actions as quite…a bit more playful than I would expect.” He smiled. “But that actually has a rather good affect on me. And she is intelligent. Despite her youth—or possibly because of it—I find her very interesting. I have discussed some of my past with her. She seems to accept and understand it and its impact. And she mentioned to me that she had spoken to you about what the lifestyle of the Queen of Eryn Galen might be like. I am satisfied that the difference in our ages will not be a barrier. But I think it is one of the several objections her adar has.” He grinned at her. “I do not think speaking with him will be a particularly pleasant experience.”

She grinned back. “Surely it is not going to be a complete surprise to him. He did not really come here for a full season just to visit me, you know. He came to give Lindomiel an opportunity to see if she wanted to live here.”

“And he has made it clear to me that he is quite disappointed that she likes Eryn Galen.” He paused and looked down. “But no, it will not be a surprise and I do expect he will agree. If for no other reason than I think he knows Lindomiel will simply bond with me without his permission.”

Dieneryn’s eyes widened. “That is a very bold statement, ion nin. Surely you prefer to have her adar’s consent?”

“Of course I do. And I will get his consent. But I know she would marry me without it. She is every bit as stubborn as her adar. Once she has made a decision, it is made and may the Valar help you if you try to oppose it.”

“Yes, indeed. I do agree that you and she are excellently matched. Assuming you do not kill each other.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. “Surely you are not implying that I am stubborn, naneth?” he asked with a mock indignant tone.

“You most certainly are and you come by it honestly.”

Thranduil nodded, acknowledging defeat. But there was a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Indeed. From both my parents.”

Dieneryn burst into laughter at that. “Well may the Valar have mercy on you then, ion nin. Because if you marry Lindomiel, your children will be just like you both. And children descended from you and Lindomiel, from me and Oropher, and from Amlgaur and Limmiel are going to be terrors.”

Thranduil joined her laughter. “Oh, ada told me many times I was destined to have a son just like me and he laughed wickedly every time he said it. Sounded like a threat, actually.”

Dieneryn shook her head. “When do you plan to speak to Amglaur?” she asked, refocusing the conversation.

Thranduil snorted and looked dramatically at the scattered paperwork on the table surrounding him. “Well we have accomplished so much recently. I see no need to hurry,” he said sarcastically. “I will speak to him tomorrow morning if you will help Hallion with the petitions. I need to get it over with as soon as possible so I can relax.”

She smiled a mother’s smile at her son. “I will take petitions with Hallion, ion nin. You do need to speak to Amglaur and get this settled before both you and your advisors go insane.”

*~*~*

Thranduil approached Amglaur’s flet the next morning with some trepidation after sending a servant to see if he was available to speak to him.

Amglaur naturally knew what this discussion would be about. And Lindomiel had made it very clear to him what his answer would be. ‘It is still my decision,’ he thought coldly as he waited for the king’s arrival.

Amglaur met Thranduil in the sitting room of the flet with a most serious expression on his face. Seeing it, Thranduil grimaced slightly, but he took heart when he noticed Limmiel was present as well. She at least smiled at him. He returned the smile gratefully and kissed the hand she offered him. At Amglaur’s invitation, Thranduil sat and all was silent for a long moment.

Impatient, Amglaur frowned. “You asked to speak to me, Thranduil. Do you have something to say?”

Thranduil noticed Limmiel sigh softly in reaction to her husband’s snappy mood. He returned Amglaur’s harsh gaze with as respectful an expression as he could muster. “Yes, my lord Amglaur. I would like to speak to you about your lady daughter.”

Amglaur’s posture stiffened further at this confirmation of the topic at hand. Thranduil could not suppress a quiet sigh. “My lord, Lindomiel and I would like your permission to be betrothed,” he stated directly.

Amglaur shook his head slightly. “I will admit, Thranduil, that I have not been completely disapproving of you personally during both your stay in Lorien and mine here. But I am not, as yet, convinced that I approve of the environment in Eryn Galen. And just because I do not disapprove of you, that does not mean I believe you are suitable husband for my daughter.” Amglaur replied in a cool but firm voice.

Thranduil did not visibly react. He had not expected Amglaur to immediately consent. “What is it that concerns you?” he asked evenly.

“First of all, I have seen the hostility some of your folk have towards Lindomiel. I am not certain everyone here would welcome her as their queen.”

Thranduil’s brows knitted together. He was truly surprised by that assertion. “I have heard no one say anything but the most positive comments about Lindomiel, my lord. She already has a good many friends amongst the people in my court. I sincerely do not have any idea to what you could possibly be referring.”

Limmiel snorted scornfully and answered before her husband could speak. “There are some jealous ellyth, Thranduil, as if that could be a surprise. And there was Tulus.” Her tone made it obvious that she did not agree with Amglaur that such topics need be considered.

Thranduil looked at Amglaur neutrally. Marti and Tulus. Thranduil had thought those topics were settled. In his mind, they were in the past and they would stay there. He decided to respond in a very general way to not provide an opportunity for more argument.

“I am the King of Eryn Galen, lord Amglaur. Everyone around me receives a good deal of attention due to that title. Not all of it is affable. That, unfortunately, is the nature of my station. Lindomiel is aware of that and has chosen to accept it. The general populace in Eryn Galen loves Lindomiel as I do. You have surely seen that. And you must know that I will never allow Lindomiel to be subjected to an atmosphere that is unpleasant.”

Amglaur scowled, but he did believe that. He decided to attack another topic that Thranduil’s answer had suggested. “Yes, Thranduil, you are the King of Eryn Galen. And your wife will be its Queen. That Queen will have too many responsibilities--managing your estate, ceremonial duties, diplomatic tasks. I do not want my daughter to marry a king and be a slave to his people.”

Thranduil surprised Amglaur by laughing wryly. “That I certainly understand, my lord. And you are correct. Whoever I marry will have more responsibilities than any other elleth in Eryn Galen. I served my adar’s realm for three millennia and I still have had trouble adjusting to the lifestyle of a king. But once again, Lindomiel has made the choice to accept that lifestyle. I have spoken with her about this topic. As I understand it, so has my naneth. She is aware of what she is agreeing to do.”

Amglaur frowned severely. “She is aware of what she is agreeing to do,” he repeated with an angry tone. “Yes, Thranduil, I am as well. I see very well what you gain—someone to run your household, someone to smooth your temper, someone to wait for you while you see to endless duties. I have seen many times the positive affect my daughter has on your personality. My question is--what do you bring to this relationship? That is what I simply do not see.”

Thranduil stared at Amglaur for a moment and then his eyes flashed to Limmiel. If Amglaur truly did not know the answer to that question, then Thranduil felt nothing but pity for both he and Limmiel. But he had seen much evidence of the strength of their bond so he could not believe Amglaur did not know the answer to his own question.

“My lord Amglaur, this is not a political allegiance that I will agree to for diplomatic reasons, nor am I asking for Lindomiel because I think she would manage my household well. Eryn Galen is solvent. I can hire an overseer to do that job if my naneth chooses not to do it. We want to marry because I love your daughter and she loves me.”

With that declaration, Amglaur sighed. “I know that is what Lindomiel has told me,” he said, speaking in a softer voice. “And clearly it must be so if she feels it. But it concerns me deeply, Thranduil, that I have seen no evidence in your actions or even words until this very moment to confirm that you return what she feels for you. I see you care about her. That you want her to be happy. That you want her to be safe. But love is more than those things.”

Thranduil’s brow furrowed. “Amglaur, you and I have spent no more than the equivalent of one day together since you have been here and that has been your choice. We are not friends, nor are we likely to become friends. I have never worn my feelings on my sleeve for all to see and I find I am much more guarded now that I have become king. But despite those obstacles, if you cannot see how I love Lindomiel, then you simply refuse to look.”

Amglaur nodded slightly to that. “Perhaps I have refused to look, Thranduil, for I very much do not want to see my daughter married into the House of Oropher. I fear no good will come of it for her. But I cannot deny her love for you. She has already bound her heart to you whether I like it or not. You have my permission to be betrothed and I will give my blessing to your marriage. I will try for Lindomiel’s sake to appear happy.” He paused and fixed Thranduil with a cold glare. “Do not hurt my daughter, Thranduil Oropherion. Do nothing that brings her grief. If you do, I promise you that I will visit that grief back upon you ten fold. Do you understand me?”

Thranduil looked Amglaur with an impassive expression. “I do. And you need not concern yourself, Amglaur. Lindomiel will know nothing but love as my wife. I swear that to you.”

Amglaur only nodded.

With a disapproving glare at her husband, Limmiel stood, raising Thranduil to his feet in courtesy. She embraced him warmly. “I know you make Lindomiel very happy, Thranduil. As does Eryn Galen and the folk here. I, for one, am very pleased that you have finally asked for her.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he replied softly, returning her embrace and trying to ignore Amglaur’s cool glare.

*~*~*

Elleth/ellyth--Female Elf(s)

Adar/ada--Father/dad

Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

ion nin--my son

Chapter 21: Cementing Positions

Marti had been utterly horrified to learn that Thranduil and the little interloper were actually betrothed. She suffered it as silently as she could, realizing that her outburst to Lindomiel and Amglaur likely played some role in driving the couple closer together and thus closing the easiest route to her goal. Marti would not allow another burst of temper to make fulfilling her desires even more difficult. But weaving in the workshop and watching the silver betrothal ring flash on Lindomiel’s finger as she worked the shuttle on her loom was nearly unbearable.

To make matters worse, the little princess spent an inordinate amount of time in the workshop during her betrothal, weaving a tapestry that she intended to give the king as a wedding present. It was a large, stylized map of Greenwood and its immediate surrounds overlaid on the royal crest. She had woven the map in rich full colors and the crest in muted colors lending the tapestry a layered look. The result was stunning to behold. Everyone knew Thranduil enjoyed maps, so all the ladies in the workshop were anxious to see the king’s reaction to the gift. They all loved it.

Marti hated it. Such a large, complex pattern and weave was well beyond the little princess’ skill level. Marti had initially taken comfort in the fact that Lindomiel would undoubtedly make a disaster of it. With the guidance of the queen and the other ladies in the workshop, however, the tapestry was turning out wonderfully. Marti hated them. Lindomiel was not from Greenwood. She had no right to use the royal crest. As Marti bitterly watched the silver ring on Lindomiel’s finger flash in the light as she wove, a dark thought plagued her and fueled her anger: when that silver ring became a gold one, that would give the little interloper the right to use the royal crest of Greenwood. Marti hated her.

The scathing looks that Marti continuously cast Lindomiel’s way soon led Dieneryn to request that Marti finish her current project as quickly as possible and not return the workshop to begin another. Marti abandoned her work on the loom all too happily that very day. That cursed workshop no longer served any purpose. As quickly as she had appeared in the capital city of the Woodland Realm after the war, Marti disappeared. No one missed her.

*~*~*

Lindomiel thoroughly enjoyed the year of her betrothal. In addition to working on the tapestry that she intended to give to Thranduil as a wedding present, she spent much of her time learning the tasks she would manage as Queen of Greenwood. Lindomiel shared with her mother, Limmiel, the responsibility of managing Amroth’s household in Lorien. She knew such duties amounted to a tremendous quantity of work and she could not imagine how Dieneryn accomplished them while at the same time serving on Thranduil’s council. When Lindomiel suggested that she would be happy to help Dieneryn in Greenwood as she had helped her mother in Lorien, Dieneryn was all too happy to accept the offer.

The King of the Woodland Realm employed a staff of well over one hundred ellyn and ellyth to do the every day labor of providing firewood and water, cooking, cleaning, laundry, sewing and attending the personal needs of the royal family and its guests. Dieneryn also managed the ‘outside’ household labor such as the stables and the gardens—both decorative and those that provided food for the dining hall. Each division of servants had a master—there was the kitchen clerk and the head cook and baker, the wine steward, the laundry mistress, the housekeeper, the valet and the lady’s maids, the head seamstress, the master gardener and the stable master. Dieneryn worked directly with these ellyn and ellyth and they directed their staff. Lindomiel had managed the gardens and kitchens in Lorien, so Dieneryn turned those tasks over to her in Greenwood.

Lindomiel also spent time with Thranduil and his council. Matters directly relating to governance were new territory to Lindomiel and not one she would have intruded upon without invitation, but Thranduil seemed perfectly willing to involve her. This pleased Lindomiel for several reasons. The primary one was that she simply enjoyed spending the time with Thranduil. Lindomiel knew perfectly well that a king often worked from dawn to dusk. If she could spend some time with her betrothed husband by sharing in his work, she would be happy to do so. Besides that, she was surprised to find that some of the work was fairly interesting. Lindomiel knew next to nothing about strategy, tactics, weaponry or logistics, so military discussions were largely lost on her. But Greenwood was a large kingdom with many scattered villages and a wide variety of needs, as Thranduil had once observed when speaking to her father. Lindomiel had a natural ability to organize small pieces of information without loosing sight of the overall picture—it was that skill that she used when weaving large tapestries. She found it was easy to apply to organizing supply and demand in the villages and she rather enjoyed doing so. She liked organizing things and there was a great deal of variety in the task that made it interesting. Additionally, the needs of the villagers could sometimes only be met by trade with the Mannish villages on the forest borders. Lindomiel wanted more opportunities to meet with Men—she had enjoyed that experience. When that topic arose, Thranduil jokingly promised that foreign relations could be entirely her realm if she so desired. The king was a little shocked when she sincerely responded that she would be happy to take that responsibility and highly amused when Hallion urged him to accept Lindomiel’s offer.

What little free time Lindomiel had between learning her new responsibilities to Greenwood and working on her wedding present, she spent with Thranduil. As they had before their betrothal, they often found time together during lunch and they always spent evenings together. They walked along the paths in the city or through the forest, eventually finding someplace to sit. Lindomiel would lean back against Thranduil’s chest into his embrace and they would talk or sing or tell stories. She loved the warmth of his body as she relaxed in his arms; the weight of his arms around her waist, resting on her hips; his cheek against her hair; the sound of his deep, melodic voice as they spoke; the foresty, spicy scent that was his. All these sensations gave her an overwhelming sense of peace and satisfaction and yearning at the same time. She was counting the days until this betrothal ended and she knew Thranduil was as well.

*~*~*

Beginning a few weeks before the wedding, guests began to arrive in Greenwood from across Middle Earth. All of Lindomiel’s family and friends came. It seemed that Lorien must surely be nearly empty given the number of guests present from the Golden Wood. Dieneryn and Amglaur had also issued polite invitations to their peers in Rivendell and Lindon without any real expectation that anyone would come from such distances. Thranduil was very pleasantly surprised when both Elrond and Celebrian came. Along with them traveled Celeborn and Galadriel. Thranduil was very happy to have his cousin present. So much so that he even managed to enjoy his cousin’s wife’s company, to everyone’s amazement. When Cirdan came all the way from the havens, Thranduil was truly touched. That was a two-month trip one way. To attend to this wedding, Cirdan would dedicate nearly half a year. That was quite a sacrifice.

With all the guests present, every evening meal seemed to evolve into a party to some degree. Merrymaking spilled over from the dining hall to the courtyard in front of it. Drink flowed, games were played, music filled the forest and everyone celebrated the happiness of the king and future queen.

And the couple went slowly insane.

In these crowds, it was completely impossible for Thranduil and Lindomiel to enjoy any time alone, or even any time to speak to each other. If Thranduil’s friends and family were not dragging him off for drinks or games, Lindomiel’s friends surrounded her to discuss the details of the preparations or the good looks of her betrothed.

And Lindomiel thought she might kill the next person that did that if she could not at least speak to him soon.

Two days before the wedding was to take place, Celeborn, Galadriel, Elrond and Celebrian sat at one of the tables that had been set up in the courtyard. The couples were watching the dancing and games that were going on around them while sitting arm-in-arm. Elrond and Celebrian were particularly enjoying themselves, since they were practically newlyweds themselves, having only been married some thirty years. As they spoke, Elrond felt his wife’s body shaking and he looked down at her. She was laughing and trying to conceal it. Galadriel was looking at her with one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“What do you and your lady mother find so funny, meleth nin?” he asked, laughing lightly himself.

At the question, Celebrian surrendered to her laughter. It was Galadriel that responded. “Look at poor Thranduil,” she said, looking back at him herself.

Elrond did as his mother-in-law bid, following her eyes. He burst into laughter. Thranduil looked like a trapped animal. He was standing with his back against a tree surrounded by elves from the court in Lothlorien. They were talking enthusiastically, after apparently drinking with equal enthusiasm, completely oblivious to the fact that Thranduil was looking between them as if trying to judge the likelihood of escape from an enemy. Occasionally, his gaze would flick to Lindomiel.

Elrond focused on the bride for a moment. She was sitting at a table with a group of ladies. They all had sketches of some sort in their hands and were thrusting them in her face. Lindomiel looked like a doe in the hunter’s sights. Her eyes were wide and suffering. Her mind was clearly anywhere but where she was. She was nodding absently and trying to dodge the sketches to catch sight of Thranduil.

“This is really too sad,” Elrond said, tightening his grip around his wife’s waist.

“Indeed. Did you know her father has been here all season? He insisted on spending the summer in Eryn Galen.” Celebrian said meaningfully.

Elrond groaned. Celeborn had been living in Rivendell as he and Celebrian courted and were betrothed. He knew the lengths he had gone to in order to find Celebrian alone.

His reaction caused Celeborn to raise his eyebrows and fix a cool look on Elrond. Elrond returned it placidly as Galadriel laughed quietly.

After watching Thranduil and Lindomiel suffer for a few moments, Elrond looked down at his wife in his arms. “Shall we help them a little?” he suggested mischievously.

Celeborn and Galadriel glanced at each other, smiling at that proposal. Celebrian looked at her husband with concern. “Do you really think Thranduil would appreciate that? You and he could not be described as friends, meleth.”

“That is part of what makes it funny, iell nin,” Galadriel responded in a soft voice.

Elrond laughed. “The enemy of your enemy is your friend, Celebrian. Thranduil will take any aid. I know this from experience.” He looked at Celeborn and winked. “You and your lady mother go fetch Lindomiel. Celeborn and I will get Thranduil. We will take them to our talan. No one would look for them there.”

Celebrian gave her husband a playful grin and stood.

Elrond and Celeborn saw Thranduil eyeing them as they approached him. The king’s brow furrowed as Elrond stepped neatly between the surrounding elves and took Thranduil possessively by the arm. He interrupted them smoothly.

“You will have to excuse me, my lords. He is a king after all and I have been asked to fetch him to handle some questions. I fear he will be gone for some time.” Elrond began to pull Thranduil away.

“But I hear a contest is starting,” Celeborn was saying to the elves that had surrounded Thranduil. “You should join in. Right over there.” He pointed to a far off glade where elves were indeed gaming.

With that, Elrond and Celeborn dragged Thranduil bodily from the crowd and towards the guest chambers. Thranduil continued to eye his cousins, his expression demanding an explanation. They responded only with a smile. When they reached the stairs to Elrond’s flet, Thranduil finally baulked.

“No one asked you to bring me anywhere, Elrond. Much less here. What are we playing at?”

Elrond glanced at his father-in-law and then looked at Thranduil placidly. Thranduil could see the wicked gleam in his eye. Without a word, Elrond more firmly pulled the king up the stairs.

When they reached the platform of the flet. Elrond openly grinned at Thranduil. “Consider this a token of friendship, Thranduil. For I do wish to be your friend.” His grin became very sly. “And I too suffered a year betrothal under my father-in-law’s eye,” he said meaningfully. “And worse still, my mother-in-law’s eye. You have nothing on me, Thranduil.”

Celeborn laughed out loud at that declaration as Elrond opened the door to the sitting room of his flet. Inside, Celebrian and Galadriel were trying to keep Lindomiel in place. When Thranduil entered, Lindomiel looked at him and then between the other elf lords and ladies with dawning realization and rising amusement.

“We thought you two would enjoy a few minutes to be able to talk to one another,” Celebrian said innocently while walking out the door with her mother. Galadriel was looking at Thranduil with bright eyes and one of her half smiles.

“I will have a guard at the foot of the stairs, Thranduil,” Elrond whispered as he turned to follow his wife.

Thranduil grabbed his peer’s upper arm firmly and Elrond looked into his eyes. There he saw profound gratitude. “Le hannon, mellon nin.”

Elrond only nodded, a slight smile on his lips.

*~*~*

The day before his wedding, Thranduil sat in his office, flipping through reports and correspondence, trying to care what any of it said. His mind was more firmly focused on the few hours he had spent with Lindomiel the night before, courtesy of Lord Elrond and his family. That was the most time he had spent with his betrothed since the guests began arriving and it was a delightful gift. Thranduil smiled, wondering what his father would think of the fact that Thranduil did firmly look upon the heir of Gil-galad as a friend.

The king’s wandering thoughts were interrupted when the door to his office opened suddenly. Thranduil looked up with a frown but his eyes widened with alarm when he took in the scene before him—it had been Conuiön, the captain of his personal guard, that flung open the door. He stood in the doorway between Amglaur and Dieneryn, with a carefully controlled expression on his face. Thranduil looked between the three elves warily before focusing on Conuiön.

“Can I help you with something, Conuiön?” he asked calmly.

“Yes, my lord. You could if you can tell me where Lady Lindomiel is. Have you seen her this morning?”

Thranduil stared at his guard for a moment and felt his heart begin to race. Conuiön, Amglaur and Dieneryn were anxiously waiting his response to that question.

“I saw Lindomiel last night. I have not seen her this morning. Is something wrong?” He forced himself to maintain a quiet voice.

“Where did you leave her last night, my lord?” Conuiön asked.

Thranduil’s brow furrowed. “At the foot of the stairs of Lord Elrond’s talan. We spent some time there last night. Is something wrong?” he repeated more insistently.

“Did you notice where Lady Lindomiel went or did she tell you where she intended to go?”

Thranduil was finding it difficult to speak. His heart was now racing enough that breathing seemed difficult. “She was going to the queen’s workshop. She said she had a project that she wanted to finish and take off the loom before the wedding. I saw her go in that direction, but I did not see her enter the workshop. Now answer me this time, Conuiön, or you will regret it—is something wrong?”

“I think you had better come with me, my lord,” was the only response Conuiön offered.

Thranduil stood and glared at the captain of his guard angrily. “Why?” he demanded.

“Ion nin, come with us. You need to see something and we need to determine how we are going to manage this,” Dieneryn said gently.

Drawing a calming breath, Thranduil scowled slightly at his mother, but followed Conuiön from his office. His frown deepened when four guards in addition to Conuiön surrounded him, his mother and Amglaur as they walked across the courtyard in the direction of the queen’s workshop. When they entered it, his mother and guards led him to a loom. On it was a tapestry that was apparently all but finished. It had been cut to shreds while still on the loom. Thranduil’s looked at the damage with disgust—who ever did this committed a frighteningly violent act. Then realization dawned.

“This was a project Lindomiel was working on?” he whispered no longer able to hide the fear he felt rising steadily.

Dieneryn nodded. “She made it for you as a wedding present. She has been working on it since you were betrothed.”

He turned to Conuiön. “And you do not know where Lindomiel is? You cannot find her?”

Conuiön returned Thranduil’s gaze steadily. “She is not in her chambers, any of the dining facilities, or with any of her friends or family that we know of. No, my lord. We cannot locate her.”

Thranduil’s eyes scanned the room and the vicinity of the destroyed tapestry again. There was no blood or signs of a struggle. Just the shredded tapestry. But there apparently was no sign of Lindomiel either. He turned back to Conuiön. “Bring Engwe, Aradunnon and Dollion to my office,” he ordered as calmly as he could, moving to return to his office himself.

Conuiön caught his arm. “I already deployed Dollion’s patrols to look for her in the forest around the city. Aradunnon is coordinating that. Engwe is searching with my guards inside the city.”

Thranduil blinked at that. “And what are you doing, captain?”

“Staying with you, my lord, until we find out what this is about. And you are all returning to the Royal Chambers.”

Conuiön prepared to enforce that order as furious, defiant looks appeared on both Thranduil’s and Amglaur’s faces. Keeping the King of Greenwood and the Prince of Lothlorien in a safe place until Lindomiel was found would undoubtedly be a difficult task.

*~*~*

Elleth/ellyth-Female elf(s)

Ellon/ellyn--Male elf(s)

Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

Adar/ada--Father/dad

Iell nin--My daughter

Meleth (nin)--(My) Love

Le hannon, mellon nin-- Thank you, my friend.

Ion nin--My son

Chapter 22: More questions than answers

Chaos reigned in the Royal Chambers. Thranduil was intermittently arguing with Conuiön and with the officers that came in to give reports of their progress. To the captain of his guard, Thranduil declared that he wanted to go look for Lindomiel himself. To the other officers, he expressed the opinion that they were not doing enough to find her. On top of the king’s fury, Conuiön had to contain Amglaur as well. The prince also wanted to go look for his daughter and did not recognize Conuiön’s right to prevent him. While demanding to search for his daughter, Amglaur tried to comfort his wife who was in tears, having finally seen the tapestry. Dieneryn was trying to calm them all and they were speaking to her in a manner to which she was most unaccustomed for her efforts.

She certainly understood their temper, however. The damage done to Lindomiel’s tapestry was disturbing. Dieneryn could not imagine who could have done it. As she tried to impose some rational thought on her angry, frustrated son and friends, in her mind the queen also tried to determine who would be motivated to do such a thing and who the target was. The most obvious answer was that Lindomiel was the target, especially since she could not be found. But that was not necessarily the case and focusing solely on the obvious could prevent them from seeing the truth. Since the tapestry was a gift for Thranduil, and many people knew that, he might be the target. Or the tapestry might have been chosen randomly, meaning the damage could be a threat against her, since it was her workshop.

Regardless of the target, Dieneryn could not imagine who could have done it. What elf would do something so destructive or hateful? But how could a man, much less someone from any other race, get into the workshop without being noticed by the city guards? The city was in absolute pandemonium with all the wedding guests present. The guards would not think anything of an elf that they did not recognize. But even with all the extra activity, surely a man and certainly a dwarf would be easily discernable. It was the end of summer and very hot. Any one wearing a cloak to hide their features would stand out. But, what man or dwarf would attack a tapestry? Would a man or dwarf not attack a more meaningful target? It had to have been an elf and one with a vendetta against someone in either the royal family of Greenwood or Lorien. Dieneryn could think of reasons why some elves might not love her husband’s House, but why they would express their frustration by destroying a tapestry, she could not imagine.

As Dieneryn puzzled over the meaning of the destroyed tapestry, she cringed slightly hearing Amglaur turn his frustration on Thranduil. She knew that was inevitable, but it would be a very bad turn of events. The queen had no doubt that Thranduil would not show any restraint in dealing with Amglaur at this moment.

“Is this what you meant when you said my daughter would be safe here, Thranduil?” Amglaur was shouting furiously.

Dieneryn saw her son’s eyes flash with anger. “We do not know that anything has happened to Lindomiel, Amglaur. Is that the consideration you show for your lady wife? Making baseless, inflammatory statements…”

“Did you see that tapestry, Thranduil?” Amglaur interrupted incredulously.

“Yes, I saw it. I also saw no evidence that anything or anyone but it was damaged in any way. Lindomiel is likely taking a walk in the forest.”

Even Thranduil did not believe that assertion. Since Lindomiel had said last night that she intended to finish the tapestry and take it off the loom, then she would have done that if it had not already been destroyed when she arrived in the workshop. He felt certain that Lindomiel discovered the tapestry in that condition last night. And the fact that no one had heard from her afterwards left Thranduil cold with fear. But he saw no point in being alarmist right in front of Limmiel.

“A walk in the forest?!” Amglaur roared. “Are you insane?! Whoever destroyed that tapestry has her, Thranduil. Someone who took a knife to that tapestry has my daughter.”

Thranduil could not hide the fear in his eyes at that suggestion. “I refuse to believe that, Amglaur. Lindomiel would not simply walk away with someone who did that and there was no indication that there was a fight in the workshop.”

"The fight might have taken place outside the workshop, Thranduil, before or after Lindomiel was in it. That is why I want to search the woods." Amglaur suddenly frowned bitterly. “Why do we not know what happened to her? Why do your guards not know where she is? Everyone in your family is guarded. There must be a reason for that in your mind. Why is my daughter not guarded?” he demanded.

That was another point that concerned Thranduil. He saw Conuiön glance at him uneasily. Thranduil looked away. “Lindomiel is guarded,” he admitted quietly. “Conuiön cannot find the guard that was on duty with her last night either. He never made his morning report. It was due an hour ago. The guards change at dawn.”

Limmiel stood with her hand to her throat, eyes wide when she heard that admission. Amglaur paled as well. “Holy Valar, Thranduil, where is my daughter?”

Thranduil did not answer. He had no response.

Dieneryn stood and put her arms around Limmiel. “Panic will accomplish nothing…” she began.

Amglaur turned on her with a cold glare. “Being held prisoner in this talan is accomplishing nothing. I should be searching for my daughter…”

“You do not know these woods…” Conuiön repeated for the thousandth time.

“I do,” Thranduil interjected, also for the thousandth time.

“And we do not know who the target of this attack truly is. I will not risk your lives simply to have two more people searching. Protecting you while searching would be a distraction,” Conuiön said, raising his voice to be heard over Amglaur and Thranduil, who spoke at the same time.

“Knowing nothing about the woods, I still have eyes for searching. Since everyone here from the guards to the king is incapable of providing for security….”

Thranduil faced Amglaur wrathfully. “My guards will protect my betrothed wife. As will I…”

“If only you knew where she was…” Amglaur retorted sarcastically.

“Be silent, both of you!” Limmiel shouted, throwing off Dieneryn’s embrace and stepping forward to stand inches from her husband’s face. “You are both behaving like fools. Shouting serves no purpose. Figuring out who destroyed the tapestry will help us determine where to look for Lindomiel. Can we please do that?”

“Of course, meleth,” Amglaur responded in a soft voice, looking at his wife with alarm.

“You are absolutely correct, my lady,” Thranduil added, also with a quiet voice though notably without so much as a glance at Amglaur.

“Unfortunately,” Dieneryn said, speaking into the silence that followed, “I have been trying to imagine who could be responsible for such an act all morning and I simply cannot.”

“Nor can I,” Conuiön added bitterly.

Limmiel blinked. “It seems rather obvious to me,” she said looking perplexed.

Dieneryn’s brow furrowed. “Who do you think did it?”

“Marti, of course. She hates Lindomiel. She is obsessed with Thranduil and jealous of their betrothal. And she weaves in your workshop. Who else would shred Lindomiel’s tapestry that was a wedding present to the king?”

Dieneryn and Thranduil looked at one another briefly. Then the queen looked back at Limmiel. “I asked Marti not to return to my workshop shortly after Thranduil and Lindomiel were betrothed. I have not seen her since,” she said looking questioningly at Thranduil and Conuiön, who shook their heads indicating they had not seen her either. “I do not believe she lives in the capital any longer. If she even lives in the wood,” Dieneryn continued.

Thranduil in the meantime had directed his attention to Conuiön. They were looking at one another worriedly. “Do we know where Marti lived? Can we check her talan?” Thranduil asked his guard.

Conuiön snorted. “Someone who behaved around you as she did, my lord? Yes, I know where she lived. I knew her every movement. She has not been in the talan that she occupied since the winter. She left the city towards the end of Firith and has not returned to my knowledge.”

“That would have been around the time I dismissed her,” Dieneryn interjected.

“You would never have noticed her in these crowds if she had come back recently,” Thranduil suggested, eyeing Conuiön for his reaction.

The captain of the guard frowned. “Probably not,” he conceded quietly as he walked towards the door of the flet. “I will instruct the guards in the city to look for Marti as well.”

*~*~*

By mid morning, Thranduil and his mother along with Amglaur and his wife were finally reduced to waiting silently in Thranduil’s sitting room for news. They had exhausted their analysis of who could be to blame for the destruction of the tapestry and concluded that Marti was the most likely culprit despite the fact that she had not been seen for almost a year. With that decided and seeing that arguing with Conuiön to join the search would accomplish nothing, quarrelling amongst themselves was simply exhausting. So they waited. Tensely.

Thranduil’s mind ran through the facts that he knew—it had been well after midnight when he had left Lindomiel the night before and it was only shortly after dawn when Amglaur had begun to look for her. Lindomiel could not have been missing for more than four or five hours before the guards and patrols started their search. Thranduil hoped that if Marti had actually forced Lindomiel to go someplace with her, the guards could not be far behind.

But he still did not understand what had happened. There was no sign of struggle in the workshop. Surely Lindomiel would not go anywhere willingly with Marti, especially after seeing that tapestry. And even if Marti had tricked Lindomiel into going somewhere with her, what about the guard? How could Marti hope to overpower the guard and keep Lindomiel under control?  The only way that Thranduil could imagine that Marti could have forced Lindomiel and the guard to leave without resistance would be if she had a weapon trained on them. But surely his guard could handle one elleth with a weapon. At the very least, certainly such a sight would draw the attention of the city guards. Thranduil did not really want to think about such a scenario. Marti would not threaten Lindomiel’s life. She was an elf.  None of this made sense, but it terrified Thranduil. Sitting here idle with wild thoughts racing through his head of Lindomiel injured would drive him insane soon.

They had been sitting quietly lost in their own thoughts and fears for nearly an hour when a commotion was heard in the courtyard. Thranduil heard raised voices coming closer.  A shout of ‘where was she?’ brought the occupants of the flet to their feet. Several elves’ footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs to the door.

All eyes turned to the door as it opened to reveal Lindomiel flanked by a city guard and her missing guard, Pendurion. The four elves that had been waiting for their return visibly sagged in relief before rushing forward to embrace her.

“Lindomiel,” Thranduil whispered, reaching her first and enveloping her in his arms. After holding her for a moment, he stepped back and looked her over quickly, noting that Amglaur and Limmiel were doing the same. She was not injured. Limmiel pulled Lindomiel into her arms nearly the moment Thranduil released her.

When Limmiel finally loosened her grip on her daughter slightly, Thranduil took the opportunity to speak. “Lindomiel, what happened? Where have you been?”

She turned her face to him apologetically. “I have been looking for Marti,” she answered quietly.

Thranduil’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly in surprise. “What?”

“I am so sorry, Thranduil. I was so angry. It did not occur to me what you would think when you found that tapestry and then could not find me.” Her expression hardened. “But I want that little…” Lindomiel paused, searching for a word. When she finally found one, it made her father and Thranduil gasp. She did not even notice. Quickly working back into the healthy anger that had apparently driven her all night, Lindomiel turned to Conuiön. “You find her. Do you hear me?”

Conuiön blinked and looked at Thranduil briefly. “Yes, my lady. The guards are indeed looking for her.”

“They had better find her,” Lindomiel said coldly.

Thranduil only stared at this interchange. “Lindomiel, will you please tell us what happened? What do you mean you were looking for Marti? You have been looking for her all night?” Thranduil, Dieneryn, Amglaur and Limmiel were all still plainly very confused.

Lindomiel frowned, glancing at Dieneryn. “You did see the tapestry?” she asked, her confusion over their obvious lack of understanding warring with fury at the subject.

“Yes, my dear, we saw it. We were afraid that whoever did it, had done something to you also,” Dieneryn answered in a soft voice.

Lindomiel sighed and spoke apologetically. “So the guards told me. I went to the workshop last night to finish it and hopefully take it off the loom and I found it like that. So I went to find Marti. I looked in the talan where she used to live and when I did not find her there, I went to the talans of her friends to ask if they had seen her. I spoke to some of them for a good while. They were all shocked at what she did.” Her face contorted again with fury. “I swear I might…” her hands balled into fists as she struggled to express what she might do. “I might actually hit her when I get my hands on her. Indeed she will be lucky if all I do is hit her once,” she finally said.

Thranduil and Amglaur were staring at Lindomiel with horror at her words. Her brow furrowed and she snorted at them derisively.

“Oh, do not even think about criticizing me because I want to hit her. I am certain you both have actually done worse than hit someone at some point in your lives. Did you see that tapestry?! How could she do that?!”

Thranduil let out a short breath. “Lindomiel, I am not concerned that you want to hit whoever destroyed your tapestry. You actually sought out Marti because you think she did it?”

“Of course she did it, Thranduil,” Lindomiel began.

Thranduil shook his head and waved her silent. “Did it occur to you that if she did do that to the tapestry, she might do something similar to you? Do you have any idea how dangerous going after her was?”

Lindomiel looked completely nonplussed by that. “Are you suggesting that she might try to injure me somehow?”

Thranduil’s jaw fell open at her incredulity. “Lindomiel, did you see the tapestry? Anyone who would do that…and you just said yourself that you would like to hit her. If you can get that angry, so can she. If she is jealous and hateful enough to do that to the tapestry, can you not see that she is dangerous to you?”

Lindomiel stared at him a moment. “It did not occur to me,” she admitted quietly.

Amglaur turned furious eyes to Pendurion. “It did not occur to you either?” he demanded.

Pendurion opened his mouth to speak, but Lindomiel forestalled him. “Do not blame Pendurion. I am sure that is one of the many things he tried to tell me this night. I was not listening very well.”

Thranduil and Amglaur continued looking at the guard. Their expressions demanded an elaboration, so he offered one. “I did try to stop her from looking for Marti. I did tell her that who ever shredded the tapestry was dangerous. But she would not be persuaded to simply let the guards look for the culprit.”

Thranduil’s temper showed now. “What do you mean you could not stop her?” he asked angrily. “Next time, pick her up and carry her back to her talan if you must to keep her safe.”

“Thranduil!” Lindomiel exclaimed with wide eyes.

“Absolutely right,” Amglaur agreed firmly at the same time. Lindomiel turned and stared at her father. He did not notice. “Why did you not at least tell one of the other guards what you were doing?”

Pendurion looked haggard. “I would have, but it was late and we passed no one. I did not want to loose track of the Lady while looking for someone and she simply refused to hold off her search until I could speak to another guard. I did not want to leave her alone under the circumstances.”

Amglaur just glared at that response. He could not deny that made sense.

Thranduil sighed. “I suppose you did the best you could under the circumstances Pendurion. And she is safe.” He looked at Conuiön. “I will discuss…safety and respect for the guards with Lindomiel.”

Conuiön snorted. “And who will discuss it with you?” he said softly.

Thranduil’s mouth formed a hard line. “I beg your pardon, Conuiön. What did you say?”

Conuiön laughed, unconcerned with Thranduil’s anger. He had seen it before. “I said, who will discuss respect for the guards with you, my lord? I could have been searching for the Lady if I was not required to keep you put.”

Thranduil scowled, preparing a retort, but Dieneryn’s laughter silenced him. He turned to look at his mother irritably. She simply shrugged. “He is correct, you know. You have never listened to Conuiön. That infuriated Oropher. Perhaps now you see why.”

Thranduil shook his head and waved his hand. “I am not going to waste time discussing this. Now that we know Lindomiel was not injured in this incident, we need to determine who is responsible. Otherwise, we will never know that we are safe.”

Lindomiel blinked and leaned forward slightly in disbelief. “Who is responsible? Thranduil, Marti is responsible…”

“Yes, we suspect that too. But do you know that? Can you prove it? I cannot punish people for things we suspect they are guilty of, Lindomiel,” he replied irritably. Now that he knew she was safe, the last few hours of tension were taking their toll.

Lindomiel sighed and tried adopt a more reasonable attitude to counter his angry one. “I do only suspect it,” she admitted. “However, if anyone has anything written by her, we can know for certain.” Lindomiel produced a small piece of parchment. “This was stuck into the weave on the loom. I cannot read all of it, but I think I gather the gist of it. ‘Ilfirin’ is ‘alfirin’ is it not? And ‘Áva’ is ‘avo.’ Am I right?” She handed the parchment to Thranduil.

He glanced at it and handed it to his mother. Dieneryn also only glanced at the writing. The parchment had one line written on it—‘Áva tinta ormë ilfirin óressë!’

“Does it say, ‘Do not kindle anger in an immortal heart’?” Lindomiel asked.

Thranduil nodded. “It does.”

Her eyes turned cold. “She said that to me, in Sindarin, the day Dieneryn asked her not to return to the workshop. And she wrote that note last night. I would bet my life on it.”

Thranduil blinked. “She threatened you?” he asked incredulously. He looked at Conuiön. “Did you know this?”

“I did not, my lord,” Conuiön replied shortly, looking at Lindomiel.

Lindomiel frowned. “It is not a threat, Thranduil. It is a saying…”

“It is a threat, Lindomiel! You thought that her gossip about us was a threat to me, yet when someone speaks this directly to you, you cannot see the threat? You should have told me what she said.”

Again Lindomiel sighed. “It seemed like nothing more than bitter words at the time. I misjudged her.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. “Well, I would say we were all guilty of that if she is truly responsible for destroying that tapestry.” He looked at Conuiön. “You said you know where she lived?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Is anything left there? When she left the city, did she take all her possessions with her?”

“I do not believe so. She only took her horse with a small pack if I remember the report correctly,” Conuiön replied.

“When I was at her talan last night, through the windows you could see some items—certainly some books and papers on her desk, I noticed. But I did not go in,” Lindomiel offered.

Thranduil looked at her a moment, thinking again how dangerous that could have been, and then turned back to Conuiön . “Search her talan. Look for anything that might indicate where she has gone. Find out where she has family. Get the names of anyone she knew and talk to them. See what information you can learn from them about her. We know next to nothing about this elleth and she is clearly a threat. I want more information about my enemy. Start by trying to find anything that might connect her to this note. The rest of the page of parchment, for example,” he said, indicating that the note in Dieneryn’s hands had been torn off a larger sheet of parchment. “And if you can find anything with writing on it in her talan, compare it to that note too.”

Conuiön nodded and reached for the parchment. “We will find her, my lord. She cannot be too far away. By your leave, I will go see to this myself.”

Thranduil nodded. “Go. You may go make your report and retire as well, Pendurion.” The two guards left and Thranduil turned back to Lindomiel, drawing a deep breath. “Thank the Valar that you are safe.” He drew her back into his arms and this time did not release her.

“I am so sorry that I worried you all so. I was so angry that it truly did not occur to me how this might look or that Marti might be a threat to me…”

“That, iell nin, is why Thranduil has assigned you a guard. You will obey him in the future. Is that clear?” Amglaur snapped, glaring at Lindomiel.

Thranduil was surprised when Lindomiel answered meekly. “Yes, adar. It is clear,” she said softly.

Amglaur frowned. After glaring at her a moment longer, he moved to the door of the flet. “I am going to get some breakfast. Maybe that will calm my nerves,” he said while walking out the door.

Limmiel kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Please do not do such a thing again, Lindomiel. The guards do have your safety in mind when they tell you not to do something. Please promise me you will listen in the future.”

“I will nana.”

Limmiel nodded, smiled weakly at Thranduil and Dieneryn and then moved to follow her husband. “I still have Amglaur to smooth over. I will talk with you more later.”

Lindomiel grimaced slightly as her mother left. “No doubt,” she muttered. Then she looked at Thranduil. “Please tell me I do not have to expect a lecture from you as well, Thranduil,” she said with an almost pleading voice.

Thranduil sighed and tightened his arms around her. “I would not presume to lecture you, Lindomiel. But like your naneth, I do want your promise that you will listen to your guards when they make judgments concerning your safety. You scared me to death, meleth.”

“I am sorry, Thranduil. I do promise, I will pay attention to the guards in the future. This simply angered me. More than anything else I can remember.”

He only shook his head. He did not doubt she would be furious to see all that work destroyed and especially at such a time. And he definitely saw that she had her father’s temper given her reaction. He could not find fault with that, knowing his own temper. “You must be tired. I will take you back to your talan so you can get some rest,” he finally said.

Lindomiel laughed shortly. “I am still too angry to rest. Have you eaten?” He shook his head. “Would you come have breakfast with me then?”

“Of course, meleth. Let me finish a few things here, and I will come join you and your parents in the Dining Hall.”

Lindomiel gave him a small smile. Kissing him lightly on the cheek, she left to follow her parents. Thranduil turned his eyes to his mother.

“Áva tinta ormë ilfirin óressë?” he quoted.

Dieneryn winced. “Please do not speak it. I am shocked you can read it. You had very little exposure to that language.”

“I would like to know how Marti can write it.”

“As Lindomiel said, it is a saying. She probably heard it somewhere and realized it would be all the more offensive in that tongue.”

“If she did this to that tapestry, I want her,” Thranduil said dangerously. "Short of that, I want to know more about her."

“So do I,” Dieneryn concurred.

*~*~*

Thranduil spent much of the day before his wedding investigating Marti. He and Conuiön, accompanied by Amglaur at his insistence, questioned at length the ellyth and ellyn that Lindomiel and Dieneryn could identify as Marti’s friends. They found very little. No one knew anything about who her family was or where they might live. None of them had seen her since the previous winter. The search of her flet also turned up very little, save the sheet of parchment the note had been torn from. Thranduil’s nerves were taut as a bowstring as he retired the night before his wedding day.

Early the next morning, he was admitted to the guest quarters that Lindomiel and her family occupied by one of the servants. He had little time to speak to her the day before and was anxious to see how she fared. Clearly he knew that she was upset about the tapestry. When he entered, Lindomiel was sitting on the balcony of the main room drinking tea. Her posture was still tense and angry. Upon seeing Thranduil, she fixed him with a stern look.

“Did your guards catch her?”

His expression betrayed his anger. “Not yet,” he answered briefly, not trusting himself to say more.

“I want her when they do. I will deal with this. My way,” Lindomiel replied curtly.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows, but wisely remained silent. He had no doubt that Lindomiel’s ‘way’ would be much worse than any punishment he would impose. He shook his head and turned to more important topics.

“How do you feel, meleth?” he asked softly.

Her eyes filled with grief at the tone of his voice. “Oh, Thranduil I am just so…I cannot even describe how I feel. I have never experienced such a thing…”

His own heart broke thinking about that. Indeed, Lindomiel had likely never experienced violence or hatred before. He drew her into his arms. “Try not to think on it, meleth. I know how important that beautiful tapestry was. To both of us, not just to you. To my naneth too. She is almost as heartbroken as you are. I know she was in her workshop all day and last night with the ladies that weave with her trying to find a way to salvage it…”

“Oh, I do not think that even with all her talent she could possibly do that.”

“I do not either,” he said gently. “But she was trying. And so was everyone else. Because they love you. Even with the tapestry destroyed, I could see how beautiful it was and how much love you put into it. Even with it destroyed, I still receive what it represented—your love. And that is what is most important to me.”

After a moment, Lindomiel relaxed somewhat in his embrace. “You are right. It is nothing. I will make another one and it will be even better because I thought of some things I could have done to improve it when it was too late to add them.” She took a deep breath and pulled away from Thranduil slightly. Cupping his face in her hands, she smiled at him, the same beautiful smile that claimed his heart. “I love you, Thranduil.”

His returned her smile and he pulled her against him again. “Not as much as I love you. You are truly perfect.”

She giggled at that and he laughed lightly as well, relieved to hear her laugh.

“It is our wedding day,” she said solemnly, but with a smile. “Would you like to begin it by taking a walk together?”

He looked at her with concern, tempted to ask her if she would like to postpone the wedding one day to give herself time to recover. Then he smiled at her and offered her his arm, accepting her suggestion. If she wanted such a thing, he knew her well enough to know she would state it for herself. Since she did not, he would be happy to enjoy the morning of his wedding day with his betrothed wife.

*~*~*

AN: For those who do not know the details--Marti's little note was written in Quenya, the language used in Valinor, but banned since the First Age amongst the Sindar. The elves in Greenwood spoke Silvan natively and learned Sindarin (not Quenya) from the Sindar that traveled East with Oropher. Their use of Quenya would be limited and unusual, I think. Since Lindomiel was born in the Third Age, I thought she might not know it well either. 

*~*~*

Firith--September 28 through November 20th modern reckoning

Elleth/ellyth--Female Elf(s)

Ion nin--My son

Iell nin--My daughter

Ellon/ellyn--Male Elf(s)

Adar/ada--Father/dad

Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

Meleth--Love

Áva tinta ormë ilfirin óressë!--Q. Do not kindle anger in an immortal heart.

Avo thano rûth vi gûr alfirin!--S. Do not kindle anger in an immortal heart.

Chapter 23: Preparations

Thranduil and Lindomiel walked along the paths in the forest, talking quietly and trying to ignore the especially prominent presence of Thranduil’s guards. The previous day had been very difficult for them both and they simply wanted to find some degree of normality on this walk before the family gathered to begin the wedding festivities. For Lindomiel, that meant leading Thranduil off to the oak in the glade where they had spent time so many times before. There she wanted to enjoy the feeling of his arms about her if for only a few moments before they plunged back into the crowds that had surrounded them for the last weeks. When they reached the glade, Thranduil threw his cloak on the ground and sat on it. Lindomiel sat next to him and settled herself against him, leaning her back against his chest. One arm behind him to support their weight, the other around her waist, Thranduil happily accepted this arrangement. He leaned forward slightly to place a kiss on her neck at her jaw line and smiled when he felt her shiver at the contact.

She sighed and was still for a moment. Yes, this was much better. She looked at him coyly. “So will I finally get to see you unleashed tonight?” she asked in a soft voice.

He arched his eyebrows. “What, precisely, is that supposed to mean, meleth nin?” he asked with amused surprise in his voice.

“It means,” she said shifting a little to look at him directly, “that when ever you touch me—whether to kiss my hand or…anything else,” she smirked and he did as well, “you always look to me like you are carefully reined in. I have been quite anxious to see you…much less reined in. ‘Abandoned’ I think was the word I used to describe it to someone once.”

That last phrase earned her an alarmed look. “To describe what to whom, my lady?” he asked, voice rising somewhat.

She looked at him sidelong, measured his reaction, and decided to have a little fun. Yesterday had been quite trying. Some levity was in order. “To describe kissing you to your mother’s friends. Everyone is interested in…you.”

He looked at her with disbelief. “You cannot be serious,” he said flatly.

Already she was struggling to keep a straight face. She merely nodded her head slightly with a sidelong glance to him.

“You and my mother’s friends have discussed…” he groped for a way to phrase it.

Lindomiel decided to help him along. Push him over the edge might better describe it.

“Your prowess as a lover,” she concluded for him choosing the boldest words she could think of. That definitely produced the effect she was looking for.

Thranduil choked and stared at her utterly shocked.

Lindomiel could not contain herself at that. She burst out laughing. Indeed, she laughed so hard that she finally fell on her back next to him into the tall grass, gasping for breath.

Thranduil just stared at her. When she had calmed down enough to focus on him, he leaned over her, one hand on either side of her shoulders. “I take it that you are teasing me,” he said quietly.

That made her burst anew into giggles and now Thranduil frowned at her.

“No, meleth, I am not…well am I. That is I am telling you this to tease you, but I am not making it up. Your mother’s friends…and occasionally your mother,” she added wickedly, “love to talk about you.”

“My mother!” he gasped.

Giggles threatened to overtake her again. She nodded vigorously. “She was the one that started it by asking me if her son kissed well one morning soon after we were betrothed.”

Thranduil stared down at her with his mouth open.

“Do not worry. I told them that you do,” Lindomiel added stifling a giggle.

A blush crept steadily across Thranduil’s cheeks.

“Well, you do,” she said when he did not reply. She was having a good deal of fun. “Of course once I admitted that, then they began to ask…” she trailed off thinking. “How did they phrase it…oh yes, they asked if you have clever hands.”

Thranduil’s blinked and his mouth opened a little wider. His face was now bright red. “Please tell me that you did not answer that,” he whispered.

She looked at him still laughing, but now with a little concern. He looked sincerely shocked. Finally she reached up and caressed his cheek. “Alright,” she said in a calm, soft voice. “I will tell you that I did not answer that question.”

Thranduil drew a deep breath and closed his eyes in apparent relief. Then she saw his brow furrow and he looked back at her. “You will tell me that you did not answer that,” he repeated suspiciously.

She giggled again. "Thranduil you are such a prude. Never fear, we have done nothing improper, so I could not have possibly said anything too scandulous to your naneth or her friends."

He looked at her askance and shook his head. “Very well," he said quietly. "I am clearly outmatched at every turn with you, Lindomiel. I think it would be wisest to simply concede defeat.”

“That is what you will be doing at tonight’s ceremony, meleth.”

They both laughed at that.

Thranduil and Lindomiel sat and talked in the shade of the large oak amidst the wildflowers in the field. As they talked, Lindomiel idly picked flowers and tied them into a necklace that she then hung around her neck.

Thranduil smiled. He reached forward and with the index finger of his right hand he lightly traced the necklace where it fell along her neck. The skin he touched was as soft as the petals of the flowers.

Taking his hand in hers, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his lightly. He freed his hand and slipped it around her waist, pulling her against him and returning the kiss. His kisses moved from her lips, along her jaw line and then down her neck, tracing the same pattern his hands had a few moments before, following the necklace of flowers. He stopped when his lips encountered the neckline of her dress. Pulling her closer still, his lips returned to hers and he could feel her trembling as he claimed them. He kissed her softly for a moment before he released her and sat back slightly

“I am the luckiest elf in all of Arda,” he whispered tracing his fingers lightly down her cheek and across her jawbone.

In response, she sighed and pulled herself back against him, burying her face against his neck—her warm breath tickling his ear…her soft skin against him. Thranduil drew a long, hopefully calming breath and stroked his hand through her hair. She responded to the caress by nuzzling even closer to him.

He laughed shortly and then spoke to her softly, “You know, meleth nin, in a few more hours I plan to show you repeatedly what my clever little hands can do to you.”

Lindomiel smiled at that, enjoying the warmth of his arms.

Thranduil’s smile grew wicked. “Unless, of course, I cannot get the picture of my mother discussing my clever hands out of my mind. That might distract me too much, I fear.”

“Thranduil you are cruel,” she replied, pulling away from him and laughing.

“Oh, but I think the question was, Am I a prude?” he answered back impishly.

She sat back fully with a playful pout on her lips. “No,” she replied quietly. “Now I think you are a tease.”

Thranduil laughed and picked up the chain of flowers she had made. It had broken and was lying in her lap. They continued joking and as they did, she was reworking the flowers into another necklace. This time she took a green ribbon from her hair and tied them together with it. Unfortunately, once tied with flowers, the ribbon was not really long enough for a necklace. Instead she tied its ends together, making a circle. This she tossed onto Thranduil’s head while leaning forward to claim another light kiss.

He laughed.

They talked for nearly an hour longer before they arose and headed back to the lawn in front of the royal household where preparations for the wedding feast were nearly finished. With her arm through his, Thranduil led Lindomiel to her father, who was standing with Limmiel, Dieneryn, Aradunnon and several of Thranduil’s advisors. They all raised their eyebrows and snickered at the king’s approach. Thranduil raised his eyebrows as well with a questioning look.

“Are flowers replacing mithril, my lord?” Hallion asked innocently.

Dieneryn and Aradunnon laughed outright at that and Lindomiel blushed. Thranduil simply looked confused, so Hallion reached over and plucked the circle of flowers off Thranduil’s head and tossed it to him.

He caught it reflexively and blushed. He had completely forgotten about it.

“I am so sorry, my lord,” Lindomiel murmured, regretful that she had embarrassed Thranduil, but amused along with the courtiers. She could not deny that.

Hallion joined the queen and prince in laughing now. Thranduil scowled at him.

Amglaur looked at Thranduil with a superior attitude. “Well, your adar always said he wanted to mix completely with the Silvan. I suppose a crown of flowers would fit that attitude more than a crown of mithril. Perhaps you should wear it Thranduil.”

Thranduil looked at him coolly. “Perhaps I will wear it,” he said quietly, putting the flowers back on his head. “Because Lindomiel made it.” With that he placed a chaste kiss on her lips and enjoyed watching with a bland smile while her father glowered at him for that small liberty.

*~*~*

By the time Thranduil and Lindomiel had returned from the glade, the feast would begin in only a few hours. It was time to return to the family quarters and prepare. Thranduil led Lindomiel to sit on the cushions on the balcony. Her parents were there. So was her cousin Amroth. From Thranduil’s family was his mother, brother and uncle, Engwe, who in the ceremony would take Oropher's place. Though he was trying to ignore it, Thranduil missed his father desperately this day and he knew his mother felt his absence acutely too. They enjoyed wine and pleasant conversation for a while before Dieneryn turned to Lindomiel.

“My dear, you may be aware that my husband was not particularly fond of the Noldor,” she began.

This seemed to be a very unusual topic of conversation for a wedding, so it captured everyone’s attention.

Lindomiel smiled innocently. “I think I have heard that before,” she said softly.

Dieneryn smiled widely. It was a well-advertised fact. “When he and I married, he refused to hold by the Noldorin tradition of exchanging necklaces. Despite that, Oropher’s adar did want to give me a gift to welcome me to his family. So he gave me this bracelet.”

Dieneryn took a bracelet from her wrist that Lindomiel had never seen her without. It was gold with links that were set with baguette cut emeralds alternating with links shaped like oak leaves. The oak leaves were also encrusted with tiny emeralds. It was a beautiful, delicate thing that Lindomiel had often silently admired. She looked at Dieneryn with surprise now.

Dieneryn reached for Lindomiel’s wrist and fastened the bracelet on it. “Oropher’s adar had this made in Doriath when we were married. It is the last thing I have left from there or from him. We have moved so many times….” She looked at Lindomiel with a look that held too many emotions to read. “I want you to have it, my dear. Welcome to our family, iell nin.”

Lindomiel looked back at her, tears in her eyes. “Thank you, my lady. You have made me feel very welcome since I arrived in Eryn Galen. I cannot thank you enough.”

Limmiel smiled at Dieneryn. The smile held laughter and something else. “I am glad you spoke Dieneryn. Knowing Oropher as I did, I would not have dared.”

Dieneryn laughed merrily at that. “Indeed. That is why I did,” she replied simply.

Limmiel grinned at her and then turned to Thranduil more seriously. “My family holds no great love of Noldorin traditions either, Thranduil. Indeed I think that was one of the first topics you and Amglaur agreed on.”

Thranduil chuckled in response along with Amglaur.

Amglaur looked at Thranduil ruefully for a moment. “I know I gave you a difficult time over Lindomiel and you may count on me continuing to do so. But I also want you to know that as we stayed here throughout this last season, I took heed of the comment that you made when you asked for Lindomiel. I opened my eyes and I have seen that you love my daughter more than I could have ever hoped her husband would. I want you to know how much I appreciate that. And I want you to know that as you cherish my daughter, I cherish you for the happiness you have given her.”

Thranduil simply blinked at that, too surprised to speak.

Limmiel smiled approvingly at her husband and then turned to Thranduil. “As a symbol of that, we had this made—Amglaur and I, along with Amroth. We all want to express to you our hope that this marriage will truly result in the union of our houses. Welcome to our family, ion nin.”

Limmiel offered Thranduil a broach that might be used to fasten a cloak or a tunic or surcoat. One side of it was shaped like a beech leaf—a symbol of Greenwood. The other was shaped as a mallorn leaf—a symbol of Lothlorien. The clasp was made of mithril, but the leaves were encrusted with tiny jewels—emeralds on the beech leaf and yellow topaz on the mallorn leaf.

Thranduil looked at Limmiel, Amglaur and Amroth somewhat stunned. It was a breathtaking gift. Furthermore, the politic repercussions of the gift were not lost on Thranduil, nor did he consider them a trifle. He had never agreed with his father’s decision to loosen the relations between his kingdom and Lothlorien. Of course he had seen the need to move further north. The forest near Amon Lanc was too dangerous. But Lothlorien under Amdir, and now Amroth, should be nothing but an ally.

“Thank you, Limmiel,” he said, surprising even himself with the emotion in his voice. “This is beautiful and I am deeply honored. I certainly agree with you that union of our houses is much to be desired and I welcome it with open arms.” He smiled sincerely at Amglaur as well, but then he could not resist taking a jab at him. Looking at his soon to be father-in-law mischievously, he put his arm around Lindomiel and drew her against him. “Indeed,” he added in a light voice. “I have looked forward to this union with great anticipation over the last year.”

Lindomiel giggled and looked down at that and Thranduil laughed as well at her reaction.

Amglaur only glared at Thranduil irritably and shook his head.

*~*~*

Aradunnon and Engwe finally dragged Thranduil from the family gathering and into his own rooms to prepare for the wedding. Lindomiel’s mother and ladies-in-waiting stole her away to the guest quarters they occupied for the same reason.

Lindomiel and her ladies had made a forest green dress of delicate, flowing silk. The neckline was cut low and sweeping across the chest to just off her shoulders. It had long full sleeves and was form fitting to her hips. The bodice was embroidered in gold with a delicate, winding vine-like pattern of slender leaves. At the hip, the very full skirt of the dress was gathered and fell to the floor in front, but extended to a short train in the back. The skirt of the dress was plain save the back. The back of the dress, beginning at the hip and spreading in a V which flared to the hem of the train, was embroidered with the same pattern that covered the bodice.

Lindomiel’s ladies wound matching, green, silk ribbons into braids in her hair. While Lindomiel dressed, there came a knock at her door. She was surprised when her ladies told her that Dieneryn wanted to speak to her.

Dieneryn entered the flet and stopped, smiling at Lindomiel. “Thranduil will not be able to speak when he sees you, my dear. You are stunning.”

Lindomiel found herself blushing.

“I have one more thing I would like to give you today, iell nin. And I would like to ask you to wear it to the wedding. It will be meaningful to Thranduil and I intend it as a bit of a surprise to him.”

“Of course, my lady,” Lindomiel replied softly. Dieneryn had often over the last year involved Lindomiel in little ‘surprises’ for Thranduil. Normally they amounted to harmless practical jokes, but presently Dieneryn seemed very serious.

“Will you sit with me for a moment?” Dieneryn asked, sitting on the cushions near the balcony. Lindomiel joined her. “When my husband came east, he had no intent of being the king of anything,” Dieneryn began. “He only sought a place to live where he and I and those that chose to come with us could live free of evil influence. When the silvan asked him to be their king, he considered the request very carefully before agreeing to it and when he did he took the responsibility very seriously. Oropher loved working silver and gold, though the conflicts caused by the Silmarils tempered his taste for jewelry considerably. When he became king, he did make a few pieces of jewelry specifically for his House. Did you ever notice the ring Thranduil wears on his left hand?”

Lindomiel nodded. “I have, though I never asked him about it. It is very pretty.”

Dieneryn smiled. “Oropher thought so too. He liked delicate things, not gaudy ones. Oropher made the ring Thranduil is wearing. He wore it himself until he died. He made similar ones for me and for Thranduil. Thranduil has the one his adar made for him put away for his own son. This,” she said handing the a silver ring to Lindomiel, “is the one he made for me. Take a close look at it.”

Lindomiel took the ring carefully and studied it. A vine-like pattern of beech leaves, very similar to the pattern embroidered on Lindomiel’s wedding dress, wove around the surface of the ring. Lindomiel looked at one part of it closer. Amongst the vines, looking very much like part of the vine and leaf pattern, was engraved the phrase ‘Bereth o Eryn Galen’ in elven runes. Lindomiel smiled appreciatively.

“I think I would have liked to meet Aran Oropher,” she commented quietly. “This is a beautiful ring, my lady.” She passed it back to Dieneryn, but the queen stayed her hand.

“Oropher intended that ring to symbolize my place in his kingdom and his House. Of the three rings he made, it was mine that he made first. He told me that I brought love to him and to his people, so my place was the most important. I always tried to do that—for him because he had seen and lost so much and for the silvan because they gave him the community he so desperately wanted. I loved him. And I love the silvan elves here because they gave him their love. As they give it to my son.” She paused. “Now this ring passes to you, Lindomiel. When you marry Thranduil, you become the Queen of Eryn Galen. Wear this ring as a symbol of all the privileges and responsibilities that office entails. I hope that you and Thranduil will enjoy, in each other’s arms and in the arms of the elves here, the same love that Oropher and I enjoyed.”

Lindomiel looked at Dieneryn with tears in her eyes. “My lady, between this bracelet and this…and all they symbolize…I feel as if I am taking too much from you…”

Dieneryn shook her head. “You are giving me more, my dear. I have not seen Thranduil laugh or smile as he does with you since he was an elfling in Doriath. I could not possibly describe to you how it makes me feel to see him so happy with you. As queen, bring that happiness to these elves, my dear, for I fear in my heart that we will endure much before we can truly be free again. Like Thranduil, I do not believe Sauron was destroyed.”

Lindomiel looked down. They had discussed that topic before at Dieneryn's insistence and it had been a frank discussion that Lindomiel would never forget.

“I will, my lady. And I will do the same for Thranduil. As he does for me.”

Dieneryn smiled warmly at that. “He loves you more than your young heart could possibly understand. Though now you will gain that understanding when you are bonded.” She embraced Lindomiel. “I am very happy with my son’s choice, iell nin. You make me as happy as you make Thranduil. I am so pleased you will be with us always.”

“And I cannot thank you enough for making me so welcome, my lady.”

Dieneryn released her. “Come, if you are ready I will take you to your naneth. It is almost time for the feast to begin.”

*~*~*

Meleth (nin)--(My) Love

Iell nin--My daughter

Ion nin--My son

Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

Adar/ada--Father/dad

Bereth o Eryn Galen--Queen of Greenwood

Aran--King 

Chapter 24: The Wedding

Thranduil stood at the foot of the stairs to the royal chambers, waiting for Lindomiel and her family and remembering when he stood here to greet them a year and a half ago. Could it be such a short time? How could it seem such a short time and such a long time at once? He was certain that the next few hours would stretch into an eternity as well. He had looked forward to this evening for the last year. Now that it was here, it seemed that the ceremony was simply one more event to be endured before he could finally begin completely sharing his life with his wife. Thranduil was anxious to simply return to a normal workday and the associated private moments with Lindomiel.

Finally, he saw his mother coming down the path from Lindomiel’s flet. He wondered idly what she had been doing with Lindomiel for the last few minutes. Dieneryn smiled at him broadly as she approached.

“She will be coming directly, Thranduil, and you had better prepare yourself. She is absolutely stunning.”

Thranduil returned her smile warmly. “So are you naneth,” he said, kissing his mother on the cheek.

Dieneryn laughed lightly. “You have a smooth tongue, Oropherion. I wonder where you got it.”

“I am sure I came by it honestly,” he quipped. Then his eyes fell on the group approaching from the direction of the guest quarters. “Holy Valar, you did not exaggerate,” he whispered, eyes fixed on Lindomiel.

Even Amglaur was smiling at Thranduil’s expression when their families finally joined one another. Thranduil took Lindomiel’s hand and kissed it and then impulsively leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “You are indescribably breathtaking,” he whispered in her ear before he stood back.

She blushed slightly and smiled at him, twining her arm around his. When she did, Thranduil noticed the mithril ring on her left finger. His eyes widened and he stared at it a moment. Then his gaze flashed over to his mother.

“Naneth, I do not know what to say to this…” he whispered.

She smiled at him and kissed him on the forehead. “Let us go eat so that you can marry your queen, ion nin,” she replied, also in a whisper, voice heavy with emotion.

The families walked out of the courtyard and to the river. They could hear the music playing from their flets, a bright and festive tune. It seemed that hundreds of tables were set up on the riverbank, all filled with revelers. The elves, in their finest clothes, almost served as decorations themselves, but there was no need for that. Everything that could be decorated with flowers or ribbons or candles was so adorned. The tables were laid with fine linen clothes—green and yellow the colors of Eryn Galen. Down the center of each table ran flowers of all colors and the table surface was strewn with flower petals. The area for the feast and dancing was marked off by lanterns on poles. The poles had garlands twisted around them and draped between them. The entire riverbank was alight with candles and lanterns—on the poles, on the tables, in the trees and even floating in the pools in the river, appearing to reflect the stars above.

By the shore, was the High Table. Flanking it were the standards of the Kingdoms of Eryn Galen and Lothlorien. When Thranduil and Lindomiel approached, all stood and the musicians struck up a lively tune. Thranduil and Lindomiel led their families to sit at the High Table and the servants began to serve the feast. There was roast pheasant, geese and capons. Wild boar, slowly cooked over the last week in huge pits, was the main course. Along with the meat was the rare treat of breads, cakes and pastries requiring finely milled grains. For dessert were fruit pies, tarts and custards. And naturally, the Dorwinion flowed freely.

As the guests ate, the musicians played festive tunes and sang romantic tales. Most of these were lovely stories from elven lore, but when requested the minstrels were all too happy to sing more bawdy songs as well. These made Thranduil laugh because, for once, Lindomiel was actually reduced to blushing.

It seemed very late already to Thranduil when the dining wound down and the dancing began. It was a sight to see. The entire Woodland Realm and half of Lorien had turned out for the royal wedding. It seemed the lines of dancers in colorful costumes stretched on for miles, occasionally creating such a tangled mess that all gave up the dance and collapsed instead in laughter. Thranduil and Lindomiel danced the first dance together before she was immediately dragged away by a series of partners. The first was Aradunnon who claimed his brother’s bride for the second dance with a wicked smile and sparkling eyes. Thranduil recognized his brother’s intent instantly and, casting a playfully scathing look at Aradunnon, he resigned himself to the fact that he probably would not see Lindomiel again until the ceremony began. This suspicion was confirmed when Thranduil saw each of his advisors, including his uncle, approach Lindomiel in succession. By the time she had danced through his entire council, a large group of her friends from Lorien surrounded her and he saw her settle down on the in the grass under a tree to speak to them excitedly. Thranduil smiled her and lost himself in the celebration, allowing one of the ellyth that wove in his mother’s workshop to draw him into the dancing as well.

The king danced several dances and then spoke at length with the guests from Imladris and Lindon, sincerely enjoying the opportunity to hear news from these far away kingdoms. When at last they drifted apart, Thranduil decided to seek out his bride.

He finally found her sitting amongst a large crowd of elves, some of whom he recognized as members of his staff. The others he did not recognize and he assumed they were from Lorien. A minstrel was singing to the group and everyone else, including Lindomiel, was laughing uproariously. Lindomiel’s eyes were wide and bright and her face was flushed. As Thranduil walked closer , he realized why—they were teasing her by making up burlesque ballads about silly things they knew that she had done in the past. The elves—both her friends from Lorien and the king’s staff—were whispering stories to a pair of minstrels who quickly composed them into exaggerated songs. They were so engrossed in bantering with their soon-to-be-queen that no one noticed Thranduil’s approach. He stood back and listened for several minutes before finally walking up to the group.

“Did any of that actually happen?” he asked in between songs, his rich voice rising over the laughter. He had an incredulous look on his face that he directed at Lindomiel.

The elves around the bride sobered somewhat, surprised to see the king. They looked at him a little sheepishly and those from Greenwood made to stand. Thranduil shook his head, indicating for them to stay where they were. He seated himself next to Lindomiel, still looking at her with an expectant expression.

She looked away and laughed. “Well, I suppose it is true after a fashion,” she said dismissively, notably refusing to elaborate. The elves around her joined her in laughing softly.

Thranduil was looking at her with a mischievous look. He was certain that it would not be very chivalric of him to encourage this to continue—indeed, it might be somewhat improper—but it certainly seemed entertaining. He made a mental note to have much more thorough conversations with his staff in the future. No source of information that he might use to arm himself with ammunition against Lindomiel’s teasing attacks on him could be ignored.

Lindomiel took in his expression and returned it warningly. “Careful, my lord, or I will ask them to sing a few stories about you. They have known you for much longer than I. They must know some amusing tales.”

Thranduil laughed lightly as the elves from Greenwood tried not to squirm at that idea. Thranduil doubted they would feel especially free to make up more songs about Lindomiel in his presence. He would never believe they would tease him in such a manner. Only Lindomiel and Aradunnon had the nerve to do that. It suddenly occurred to him to be pleased that the staff felt so comfortable with Lindomiel as to sit with her and create silly ballads to joke with her.

Feeling a little playful himself, he smirked. “It is you that had best take care, my lady, lest I decide to sing something. I can think of a few stories about you myself that everyone here might find interesting,” he threatened.

As Lindomiel cast a stunned look at Thranduil, not expecting such a response from him, the elves around them laughed, slipping again into the relaxed atmosphere that had surrounded them before the king’s arrival. That had been his intention. Even after a yén Thranduil was still struck by the fact that the same people he had a much more informal relationship with as Prince Thranduil, now behaved so stiffly in his presence.  He knew it was to be expected but there were still times, like this celebration, that he would have preferred his former camaraderie with them.

“You would not dare,” Lindomiel responded when Thranduil’s expression did not change. Her tone was light but plainly surprised.

“Oh, never challenge me, my lady,” Thranduil warned with dancing eyes. “I find it very difficult to back down from a challenge.”

Several of the elves laughed quietly at that. They knew it was true.

Lindomiel smiled. “That could be useful. I will have to keep that in mind,” she replied. “But I still do not believe you will sing anything about me. Not here.”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and their audience looked between the king and his bride in anticipation. After a moment’s thought, Thranduil did begin to sing.

Oh, I have searched for you my lady,

for three thousand years,

Now that I have felt your arms around me,

Tis too wonderful to have you near.

I have seen your eyes sparkle,

Your lips like sweet, red wine,

And I have seen the way your smile,

makes the sunlight always shine…

Lindomiel’s eyes had widened when Thranduil began to sing. She certainly would not have minded if he sang about one of the many silly things they had done. She teased him often enough and she would be happy to take her just deserts from him. But she did not expect it. He treated her with far too much deference publicly for her to believe he would join in this game. When the song focused on more romantic themes, Lindomiel's expression softened to an indulgent smile. By the time Thranduil finished singing, the subject of his song—her smile—shone brightly on her face and tears glistened in her eyes.

As he concluded the song, Lindomiel leaned forward, kissing Thranduil lightly on the cheek. “That was beautiful, meleth,” she whispered.

Thranduil smiled back at her and took her hand to kiss it. As he did, the elves around him began to cheer. His eyes widened slightly in alarm when he realized not only those immediately around him were applauding, but also all those in the general vicinity. They had fallen silent to listen to their king. He shook his head and laughed lightly, accepting their accolades with a nod and encouraging the minstrels to sing again. 

Lindomiel grinned at him. That was better than any song someone might have sung about him.

*~*~*

After the dancing and gaming had carried on for a good while, the parents of the bride and groom, seeing their children quite anxious to end their wait, signaled the minstrels to stop playing the dancing music and play another tune that indicated the ceremony was about to begin. The air now charged with anticipation, the guests returned to their seats and the wedding party took their places.

Normally, the mother of the bride and father of the groom officiated the wedding. As Thranduil’s father was with Mandos, Engwe, took his place along side Limmiel. The older elves joined Thranduil and Lindomiel’s hands and blessed them, Limmiel naming Varda and Engwe invoking Manwe. Then Thranduil and Lindomiel returned to one another the silver betrothal rings and exchanged slender gold bands, placing them on their right index fingers. When this was done, Engwe recited a final blessing calling upon Eru’s name.

Once he finished, a cheer rose from the crowd and the musicians began to play again. The rest of their families and friends came forward to congratulate them but Lindomiel and Thranduil neither saw nor heard anything. Thranduil leaned forward, hands cupping her face, and kissed Lindomiel with a kiss that began soft and tender and became passionate. Finally it was their laughing friends that pulled them apart.

As the rest of the revelers returned to dancing and gaming, Thranduil and Linomiel found themselves surrounded by family and friends near the High Table. Everyone was anxious to offer their congratulations.

Engwe was the first to speak. “Well thankfully that is done.” He looked at Lindomiel. “Welcome to the family, Lindomiel and may the Valar have mercy on you. You have taken on quite a bit with this one. A more recalcitrant elf could not be found on the face of Arda. He is lucky to have you.”

Ignoring her father’s amused snort, Lindomiel blinked. Engwe was the last person in Thranduil’s family that she expected to tease her. She looked at him with surprised amusement.

Thranduil only shook his head. “He calls me recalcitrant. That must be a joke. Mind your manners, uncle. You are speaking to the Queen of Eryn Galen.”

“Indeed,” he said dryly before looking back at Lindomiel. “Eryn Galen is lucky as well.”

“It certainly is,” Dieneryn said, coming forward with a smile and hugging Lindomiel.

Lindomiel returned the embrace warmly and then turned to receive another from her friends. “I am so happy for you, Lindomiel. I truly believe you and Lord Thranduil are perfectly matched,” Amoneth said happily.

Amglaur turned his head to hide the grimace that sprung to his face at that assessment.

Seeing that, Aradunnon laughed lightly and took his turn embracing Lindomiel. “You most certainly are wonderfully matched. I also could not be happier for you and Thranduil. You are exactly what he needs.” He looked at his brother mischievously. “Having Lindomiel here will take some of the burden of torturing you off me. Her high spirits seem to keep you busy enough, muindor nin.”

Thranduil smirked at his brother but Lindomiel looked at him slyly. “We both know why you are so pleased with this news, Aradunnon. And your own high spirits are the issue there, are they not?” she asked with a knowing air. Amoneth giggled in response to that, looking at Lindomiel with wide eyes. Aradunnon threw Lindomiel a pleading look but her comment was lost in the excitement of the congratulations.

Hallion had stepped forward and placed his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder, unable to keep the paternal smile from his face. “Congratulations, my lord,” he said quietly. Thranduil turned to him, also smiling warmly, and pulled him into an embrace. Hallion returned it. “This may be the best decision I have seen you make, my lord,” he whispered into Thranduil’s ear. Thranduil laughed at that as he pulled away from Hallion.

The steward was quickly replaced by Celonhael and Golwon, who flanked Thranduil, also clapping him on the back. “I miss Oropher very much today, as I am certain you do as well. Your adar would have loved Lindomiel, my lord,” Celonhael said, smiling at her. “Indeed she is much like what I imagine a daughter of Oropher would have been like.” He turned his eyes to Dieneryn. “I always thought it was a pity that you did not have more children—particularly daughters.”

Lindomiel covered her mouth with her hand to smother her reaction to that description of her and her eyes flashed to her father.

Amglaur’s jaw had dropped and he stared at Celonhael clearly offended.

Noting his reaction, Dieneryn struggled not to laugh. “Two of Oropher’s sons were quite sufficient, Celonhael, thank you very much,” she said, trying to divert the conversation and prevent Amglaur’s explosion.

Her effort failed.

“And may I suggest that you not liken Lindomiel to Oropher in my presence, Lord Celonhael,” Amglaur said coldly.

Dieneryn raised her eyebrows, impressed by his restraint.

Lindomiel could not resist teasing everyone a bit. She affected a dismayed air and glanced between Thranduil and Aradunnon. “I am not certain you should express such opinions in my presence either, Celonhael. Really, if one of Oropher’s sons is ‘recalcitrant’ and the other is simply a rogue, I cannot imagine that you have paid me a compliment. I suppose I will have to be very vocal in the upbringing of my children to make sure they turn out more properly.” She winked quickly at Dieneryn whose eyes were wide with amusement.

Golwon burst out laughing at that. “Oh yes, you have chosen well, Thranduil. Any one with the courage to attack Oropher in this company will have what it takes to manage you.”

Thranduil, who had been looking at Lindomiel with amused shock, turned to stare at Golwon upon hearing that comment.

Engwe snorted loudly. “Manage Thranduil,” he repeated. “Now that is something I would dearly like to see done.” He looked sympathetically at Lindomiel. “Even his own adar was not the equal to that task, my dear. You have your work cut out for you—I have already told you that.”

Lindomiel smiled sweetly, now thoroughly enjoying this game. “Recalcitrant. Yes. But I will have means of managing Thranduil that Aran Oropher did not have at his disposal. Tell me, my lady,” she said, turning to Dieneryn innocently. “Did you have any trouble managing your lord husband?”

Dieneryn looked at Lindomiel with dancing eyes. “None at all,” she confirmed, suddenly realizing how much fun it would be to have another female in the household.

“Nana?” Lindomiel asked, turning to Limmiel who was shaking her head.

“I am hesitant to be drawn into this, but no. I cannot deny it is quite easy to manage Amglaur when I bother to expend the effort.”

Lindomiel merely nodded serenely. “As I thought.”

The unmarried ellyn in the present looked between Limmiel, Dieneryn and Lindomiel warily and with great surprise. The married ones, even Amglaur, only laughed quietly. When Thranduil’s eyes turned to them, they openly laughed at him.

“She is right, Thranduil. Wives have many means to govern their households and their husbands.” Hallion said softly. At Thranduil’s defiant glare, Hallion continued mischievously, unable to resist joining Lindomiel to torment the king. “If there is no truth to what she says, correct her now. Show us all that you are your own master.”

Thranduil’s brow furrowed in sincere irritation at Hallion’s words and he opened his mouth to speak. Then his eyes fell on Lindomiel’s amused face and the angrily aggressive words he was about to utter died on his lips.

She laughed lightly. “Tis only a joke. No one here believes anyone could control Thranduil Oropherion. Much less would I want to,” Lindomiel said quietly and with a playful tone, taking Thranduil’s hand affectionately. She tiptoed to place a kiss on his cheek.

Thranduil smiled at her and laughed to himself, ignoring Hallion’s knowing gaze and single arched eyebrow. He could not deny that he really would not have said a thing. He did not know why, but he knew it was true. Hearing his councilors’ soft laughter, he glared at them. Golwon and Aradunnon seemed the most amused.

“Laugh now,” he said, looking at his traitorous brother and cousin. “We will have to make sure you are both happily married very soon.”

Golwon laughed harder at that. Thranduil silently noted that Aradunnon only cast a sharp glare at Lindomiel. One that Lindomiel returned with mischievous, bright eyes.

Hallion smiled warmly at Lindomiel. “I definitely think that you will be an outstanding addition to the family, my lady,” he said sincerely. Everyone present could easily read the subtext—Lindomiel might actually be able to manage Thranduil and that would be an amusing sight to see. One they all looked forward to.

Amglaur had watched this entire interchange with a delighted look. He nodded at Hallion and put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Indeed. I was somewhat reluctant to consent to this marriage but I think I might have misplaced my fears.” He looked at Thranduil merrily. “Allowing it may be the best revenge I can still take on Oropher,” he said laughing lightly.

Dieneryn let out a short laugh before biting her lips.

Thranduil smiled and shook his head.

*~*~*

As the king and his family celebrated his marriage by the river, Marti mounted a horse in the woods a good distance down the bank hidden in the shadows. She watched the lantern light flicker through the leaves for a moment and her eyes held angry contempt. The idea that the little interloper from Lorien was now the Queen of the Woodland Realm was repulsive.

Marti knew that she had once again allowed her anger to drive her to foolish actions but she hardly even cared. She saw the little princess storm from the workshop in a fit of furious tears after discovering her precious tapestry. That reaction was sufficient compensation for having to hide for a while. There were other places Marti could live to accomplish her goals and she would be happy to leave and never see Thranduil or Lindomiel again.

As she was about to turn her horse, someone approached her. Marti looked around startled. She knew the city guards were looking for her. She hesitated seeing it was Tulus. He looked at her kindly, stroking her horse's nose.

“You are leaving too?” he asked gently.

Marti scowled and looked away. If he was not here to arrest her, she had no desire to speak to him. Tulus was not likely to be useful to her again so she did not care to waste her time with him. When he did not stop distracting her mount, she glared at him. Then she tried to temper her reaction. She had few enough allies in Greenwood. Perhaps it would not be wise to discard those that remained even if she could not see their immediate use. Marti schooled her features into a more neutral expression.

“How are you, Tulus? What do you mean ‘am I leaving too’?” she asked idly.

He looked at her a little sadly. “You are obviously going somewhere, my lady. So am I.” He shrugged. “Lord Aradunnon and Lord Engwe will not allow me to join the regular patrols since the king dismissed me. So my son and I are moving to another village where I hope to work as a guard. I am not anxious to make my son move but I am a warrior. There is not much else I can do.”

“You are moving?” she asked. “And your son will have to leave his friends. So sad. He is young, is he not?”

Tulus nodded. “Only fifteen.” He smiled. “He says he wants to be a warrior too.”

“What is your son’s name, Tulus?”

“Glílavan,” he replied.

“And your wife? Is she concerned about moving?”

Tulus' eyes dimmed somewhat. “She is not with us. She sailed West a few years ago. She never recovered from the fact that her father and brothers all died in the war. I hoped that Glílavan might help anchor her here but the strain of a young child only made things more difficult for her. I had to send her to Valinor or she would have faded. I would sail myself but I want Glílavan to know Eryn Galen, if only for a short while. It is a beautiful forest.”

Marti looked at Tulus sympathetically. “All the pain the House of Oropher has caused you. It seems a terrible pity that your reward was Thranduil’s dismissal.”

Tulus tried to hide a bitter scowl. “I will be happy as long as I am in the forest. I love Eryn Galen,” he replied firmly.

“So do I,” she affirmed softly.

*~*~*

AN: That is the end of New Journeys. There is an epilogue that I may post here and will certainly post at Open Scrolls. It is adult in nature (though definitely not too graphic), so I want to make sure to warn you not to read it if you would prefer not to. You will not miss any plot if you do not read it.

The next story in this series is called Journeys Perforce. It tells of how Thranduil came to the decision to move to the caves in the north. It is more of an action piece. I will begin posting it after I take a little break for a few days to catch up reading my favorite stories that I haven't had time to read recently. :)

I want to thank everyone who has read this far. I hope you have enjoyed it and will continue to do so. I especially want to thank the people who take the time to review. It makes an amazing difference to hear people's thoughts. It makes me think about what you are seeing so I can improve the story as I post it.

Thanks!

*~*~*

Meleth (nin)--(My) Love

Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

Iell nin--My daughter

Ion nin--My son

Muindor nin--My brother

Adar/Ada--Father/dad

Aran-King

Epilogue: Harmony

Thranduil and Lindomiel endured the teasing of friends and the well-wishing of their subjects for several hours after the ceremony. Then, with a silent look to one another, they quietly slipped away from the revelers that would undoubtedly still be celebrating when the sun rose. Hand-in-hand, they walked to the flets that housed the Royal Chambers.

These flets had been her home for nearly a year and a half now, but Lindomiel had never entered Thranduil’s personal chambers. As he guided her through the door now, she felt her heart racing. Nervous anticipation, excitement, yearning desire—all contributed to drive her to near breathlessness as Thranduil closed the door and turned to look at her. She felt what little air there was in her lungs rush out abruptly under his gaze. It was loving and tender and feral all at once. A slight smile turned up the corners of her mouth. Yes, now she would see Thranduil unleashed. She drew a deep breath as the smile reached her eyes. They lit up in anticipation as he continued studying her.

Thranduil simply took a moment to enjoy looking at Lindomiel in private—the first such moment he had all night. Under the eyes of his family and certainly his subjects he did not feel free to truly lose himself in the sensations that claimed him at the sight of her. Now he did. The intensity with which he loved the elleth before him was overwhelming.

After a moment, he reached for her, pulling her slowly into an embrace that enveloped her in powerful arms flush against his broad chest. He lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that was deceptively slow and thorough. The time he took exploring the contours of her mouth belayed the urgent need he now felt building within him. As the kiss deepened, Thranduil realized that a good deal more control would be required than he had originally expected if he was even going to make it the few steps to his bedchamber with her.

He broke the kiss with a deep breath and feathered a few more across her cheeks and jaw. “I love you, Lindomiel,” he whispered knowing the inadequacy of the words.

She smiled up at him.

He knew at that moment that she would always get anything she asked for with nothing more than that smile.

“And I love you, Thranduil,” she whispered, tracing her fingers softly from his lips downward and along his jaw. Then her sweet smile grew mischievous. “But I am thoroughly done waiting for you.” With that, her hands slipped to the fastenings on his tunic. Thranduil laughed lightly in reaction until his eyes fell upon her fingers as they nimbly worked the fastenings. Somehow the sight was fascinating. He watched her first open the tunic then unbutton the silk shirt under it. The completely unaccustomed sensation of her hands on his bare chest as she pushed both articles of clothing off his shoulders, letting them fall to the floor, made Thranduil draw a surprised breath. He looked down at her with wide eyes, amazed by the thrill that ran through him at that simple touch.

He stood before her, unclothed save for his trousers and boots and Lindomiel smiled again, involuntarily. He was…enticing. Her hands moved caress him, palms flat, moving from the center of his chest, outward. Her fingertips traced his collarbone. Reaching his shoulders, her hands swept down his muscular arms. His skin was soft and smooth like the silk fabric of his shirt but his muscles were hard. She stepped closer to move her hands to his back.

As she pressed her body against him and placed soft kisses along his collarbone to his shoulder, Thranduil took a deep breath, closing his eyes and losing himself in the sensation caused by the contact. He wanted to crush her to him. Instead, his hands lightly traced down her arms to her hips. He pulled her closer as his hands ran up from the small of her back to her shoulders. As they did, he encountered the lacings of her dress.

Lindomiel felt him tense as his fingers tangled in the lacings. Reaching behind her with one hand, she slipped the knot that tied them.

Thranduil realized what Lindomiel was doing and his breathing stopped. Automatically he took her hands in his and stopped her. He wanted to do this himself. After a moment’s pause, he turned her around and moved her hair to the side so he could see the lacings of the dress. Kissing the back of her neck, he slowly loosened them until the gown fell to a silken pool at her feet. Now she stood clothed in the thin white shift that she had worn under the gown. He continued to place kisses down the length of her neck and across her now bare shoulder while his hands embraced her from behind, running across her abdomen. They slid up her stomach to the tiny buttons of the shift. Lindomiel held her breath unconsciously as he opened the shift enough to slip it off her shoulders as well. As it whispered to the ground, his hands slid softly over bare skin that he had never known. When she arched her back to press harder into his hands, it was his undoing.

He lifted her and carried her to the bed. Laying her on it, he covered her body with his. For a moment they both delighted in the way it felt to be thusly pressed together. The sensation of body pressed passionately to body, as yet unknown to both of them, was intoxicating.

He struggled to breath feeling her soft warmth beneath him. The feeling filled him with a desire to consume her…to simply devour every inch of her body with his hands and mouth. Propped up on his elbows, hands on either side of her upper body, he lowered his lips to hers claiming another slow kiss.

Lindomiel loosed a contented sigh as Thranduil moved to kiss her. The weight of his body on hers made her ache for him, awakening a feeling in her that she had never known. She ran her hands softly up his arms and to his back. His muscles were hard as he hovered over her. Hands between his shoulder blades, she insistently pulled him flush with her and as his chest crushed against hers, as his mouth claimed hers in a passionate kiss, Lindomiel moaned softly.

That sound kindled his own desire. Thranduil’s hands moved softly over her again and his lips followed. As he kissed her neck, he was very aware of the sensation caused by her bare body pressed against his chest. He paused briefly at the curve of her throat before traveling downward. He had allowed his hands to roam over her body before as he held her and kissed her. But never to these places and, moreover, now there was no barrier between them. Lindomiel gasped out loud when his hand softly brushed her breast. He touched her tentatively, caressing more firmly as she responded with clear desire.

Thranduil’s heart was racing and his hands were shaking. He remembered clearly the nerves he experienced on the eve of his first battle and he was certain that he must have been steadier at that moment than he was now. His hand cupped her tenderly in his palm. He drew one taut peak into his mouth as his thumb brushed lightly over the other, delighting in her obvious pleasure.

Lindomiel had never felt sensations like the ones Thranduil’s lips and mouth were producing. Her skin tingled under his touch. The feelings that had been born in her when he first lay on top of her were growing. Her hands played recklessly over his back and through his hair, pulling him closer. His hips fell across her legs as his mouth slid down her body and she could feel his desire for her, hard against her thigh. The thought of it made her ache to touch him. Somewhat timidly, Lindomiel allowed her hands to slip from his back, down his slender waist and over the fabric of his trousers. Thranduil drew a sharp breath. He looked at her for moment and then, while claiming another kiss, he lifted himself up slightly, loosed the lacings of his trousers and pulled them off. 

As their explorations grew more intimate, Thranduil felt a heightened awareness of not only his own arousal, but Lindomiel’s as well. The song of her fea, always a soft presence that he had treasured when they were together, grew ever closer and stronger. As he continued to touch her, the melodies of their songs slowly united fully. The intimate caresses produced a rhythm that increased in pace, building to a crescendo as their bodies united. When they did, Thranduil and Lindomiel both grew still for the slightest moment, savoring the first taste of the true union of fear that only elves can share—a new connection felt in their heart and mind and soul that could never be severed…that would always be with them. When Thranduil began to move over her again they both soon collapsed in moans and soft gasps.

*~*~*

For the moment satiated, Lindomiel lay in Thranduil’s arms, curled against him, head pillowed on his chest. She traced her fingers lightly across his abdomen. He enjoyed the sensation produced by her hair across his chest as he traced a lazy pattern on the bare skin over her ribs. In a place deep inside himself, Thranduil felt the soft hum of his wife’s song forever with him.