Title: Snowfall
Author: P.Rico

This story was written in response to a Farewell Challenge presented on the Mirkwood Castle Yahoo! Group (which will be going away come October ;_;). The first part (in bold italics) was written by Jay of Lasgalen.

Thranduil looked up from the documents he was studying as there was a knock on the door and a messenger entered.

"A letter, my Lord. The courier said it was most urgent."

Curiously, for the seal was unfamiliar, Thranduil opened the message and read it swiftly. Then he read it again, more slowly, and looked at the messenger in silence for a moment before responding.

“Bring the courier in,” Thranduil ordered calmly.

“Yes, my Lord,” replied the messenger and, with a quick salute, left the room. Only a few moments later, he returned, but without the courier. “She is gone, my Lord,” he reported.

“Oh, is she?” Thranduil responded, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir.”

“What did she look like?” Thranduil asked leaning forward in his chair.

“I know not, my Lord,” he replied. “She wore a thick scarf around her head and face.” He paused momentarily before continuing. “Shall I alert the guards?”

Thranduil dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “That will not be necessary. I shall deal with this myself. You are dismissed.”

When the messenger left Thranduil looked down at the parchment and the familiar, elegant handwriting.

The first snow will fall tonight.

I shall be waiting.

Thranduil frowned slightly. Just what is she up to?

---

Midnight found the King of Greenwood the Great walking silently through the tall trees. He wore a dark cloak and blended in with the shadows so well that even the sharp eyes of the Elven guards would most likely see him only if they knew he was there.

That was exactly what Thranduil wanted. No guards, no councilors, nobody but him and the one who wrote the message. Though the message was short and would appear vague to another, to Thranduil it was crystal clear. He knew where she would be waiting, but he had yet to figure out her intentions.

He reached his destination, a small clearing, but it was empty.

It seems I beat her here, he mused, walking slowing to the center. He looked up at the sky and saw Ithil shining down upon him. She said the first snow would fall tonight. But though the air is cold, the sky is clear.

“It is so quite,” said a voice from behind him. Thranduil did not turn, for he already knew who it was. “The earth sleeps,” the speaker continued, walking up to him. “And soon, the sky will open her arms and cover it with a blanket of purest white. And so it shall be until one day, it will shake off the blanket of snow and arise refreshed and renewed.”

Thranduil turned to regard the newcomer who had stopped beside him. She was clad in white, the color of the snow she so loved and a sharp contrast to his dark raiment. She did not turn to him. Her eyes remained skyward.

“But the sky is clear,” Thranduil pointed out.

She then turned to him with a start, as if just noticing him.

“Forgive me, good sir,” she said with a polite bow. “I did not realize I was disturbing you.”

Thranduil’s brow creased in confusion. “Lossiell?”

She gasped, and took a step back. “You have me at an advantage, good sir,” she replied. “Have we met?”

Thranduil frowned and shook his head. “Lossiell, what are you playing at?”

Ignoring his question, Lossiell cocked her head slightly as if in thought. “But, you do remind me of somebody,” she continued. “Now, who is it?” she muttered, as if to herself. Her face brightened suddenly. “Ah! I remember. You remind me of my husband.” She frowned and shook his head. “But you could not be him. For he disappeared into his office one day, never to be seen again!”

“So that is what this is all about. I have not been an attentive husband.” Thranduil replied, his frown deepening.

“Ah, Dearest! So it is you!” Lossiell cried in delight as she moved forward to wrap her arms around his neck. “So you have truly escaped that abyss?”

Thranduil sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Alas! It is only a temporary reprieve.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Can you forgive your wayward husband?”

“This is nothing to forgive, my love,” the Elven Queen replied softly. “I knew what I was getting into when I married you. The kingdom needs you. But I am selfish sometimes and wish to have you for myself.”

Thranduil moved one hand up to cup her face. “I can be selfish as well, wishing to spend all my time with you.”

“But you seem far better at stifling your selfish desires,” Lossiell pointed out.

Thranduil laughed. “My lady, is that a compliment or an admonishment?”

“Both or neither,” Lossiell replied with a shrug. “It matters not. For now, at least, let us be selfish.”

“But why go through all this?” Thranduil asked. “Why not simply come talk to me?”

“Because,” Lossiell began, fingering the elegant brooch securing his cloak. “Had I come to you and said, ‘My love, I wish to arranged a romantic meeting,’ you would have replied. ‘Dear wife, you know I would love nothing more but I have some much to do.’ So I thought this up. I knew your curiosity would get the better of you.”

Thranduil could not help but wince at this, for he knew she spoke the truth. “My beloved Lossiell, I have always known I did not deserve you and my behavior these past weeks only prove it.”

“Do not speak that way!” Lossiell exclaimed. “I would have no other.” She then smiled slyly. “And surely you do not question my taste.”

“You are too kind, my love,” Thranduil replied, smiling lovingly at her. He lowered his head to kiss her. But before he could, she gasped in delight and pulled away from him.

“Snow!”

Thranduil looked up in surprise. While they had been talking, the clouds had rolled in and small flakes were slowly drifting to the ground. The first snow of the season, he mused. So she was right, as usual.

It was because of her love of snow that they had first meet. It was a night, not unlike this one, when he had come across her in this very clearing, waiting for the first snowfall of winter.

Thranduil lowered his eyes and found Lossiell dancing gaily around the clearing, the white snow clinging to her silky, dark hair. She was so beautiful.

“Dance with me, my love,” she said, running up to him and taking his hand.

And so they danced in the falling snow, for how long they could not tell. But as the snow began falling heavier and heavier, they reluctantly stopped and began making their way back to their home.

“Ah, I wish we could stay out just a bit longer,” Lossiell said with a frown.

“I have not your degree of love for snow,” Thranduil replied. “I especially do not wish to be buried in it. It would be rather cold.”

Lossiell smiled and moved closer to him. “I do not mind the cold,” she said. “As long as you are here to warm me.”

Author’s Notes:

• Ithil – Sindarin name for the moon
• Loss – snow, iell – maid
• This fic takes place a just after the beginning of the Third Age, before the Wood Elves moved north to the caverns.
• I intentionally did not read any of the other stories posted for this challenge before writing this. So any similarities are entirely coincidental ^_~.
• I wanted to write a fluff fic featuring Thranduil and the wife I gave him, so this is it.
• As always, thank you for reading.