Chapter 6 – Realisations

“You did well.”

Maenon turned to acknowledge the compliment with a quick bow before heading down the hall. The King had been pleased and there was still much to do. Maenon hoped that Thranduil would head his warning about the little Princess’ Heir and the Captain. Maenon did not know exactly what history plagued the two Avari but he recognised that blood called to blood. Mirkwood, no – Eryn Lasgalen – could not afford divided loyalties.

There has been a restlessness at the borders that made Maenon’s senses prickle. It was not a sense of encroaching evil or even uneasiness about the strength of the Border Patrol. The Prince’s company was well trained and the Captain had confidence in their abilities. Nevertheless, Maenon could not help but feel that something watched the elves and he was uncertain if it was friendly.

Not evil but not good either. Neutral – if that were possible.

Maenon shrugged and hastened his pace; there was one particular conversation he was interested in overhearing today. He had seen the Princess head towards Cothion’s room early in the morning with a most determined stride and was curious as to what caused that set expression.

“Why in such a hurry, Commander? Life is too short for such haste.”

Maenon mentally groaned at the voice, if there was one elf guaranteed to waste his time, it was Herenion. “I will exist as long as Arda does. Life cannot be too short.”

“Ah, that is all a matter of perception,” said Herenion sagely. “If you hurry always so then you will never know when Arda ends for you did not stop to hear its song.”

Maenon mentally rolled his eyes but did not slacken his pace. Perhaps if he hurried he could outrun the bodyguard.

“So, you are not going to answer my question, are you?” Herenion’s longer strides easily matched the shorter elf’s.

“Had you asked one?” Maenon tried walking even faster but Herenion seemed determined to keep up.

“Of course, I am surprised you do not remember. Perhaps you are getting too old. I should tell the King.”

Maenon stopped short and glared at the too cheerful guard, “Ask your question.”

“Now only if you had stopped earlier.” Herenion paused only to quickly continue when Maenon stepped forward in warning, “I was just wondering where you were heading.”

“To observe the little,” Maenon paused and changed his answer to a curt, “On the King’s business.”

Herenion shrugged and gallantly let the Captain pass, suddenly serious eyes noting the direction the elf went.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Though Anor’s light was biting today, Legolas was proud to note that all candidates stood at perfect attention, watchful but not stiff. He glanced at Arandur next to him who nodded imperceptibly. This lot would be accepted.

He dismissed the guards, motioning Arandur to walk with him. “I am pleased with these new candidates. They will make a find addition to the Border Patrol.”

“Do you not mean the Home Guard, my Prince?”

Legolas shook his head, “No, I meant what I said. These volunteers will go to the Border Patrol.”

Arandur stopped walking to face the Prince, “The Home Guard has always had first choice of any new recruits, my Lord.”

“Times change, Captain. They are needed more urgently on the Borders.”

“With the recent surge in activities they are needed to protect the settlements and the Palace.”

“We are no longer at war, Arandur. We have do not have to be so defensive in our thinking any longer.”

“Neither do we have to compromise on our defence. I would have thought that the priority remains on strengthening the numbers of the Home Guard. Why else make an alliance with the Avari?”

Legolas smiled, “I find it interesting that you automatically assume that the Avari would not be able to supplement the Home Guard’s numbers. Do you not trust them to defend my people, even under your own supervision?”

Arandur ignored the bait, thinking it better to keep silent on this subject. “This is not about trust, my Lord. The Avari with never serve under my command in the Home Guard.”

“Why not?” Legolas asked with genuine curiosity.

“They will do what Mistress asks, even if it means fighting alongside the Wood-elves. But she cannot command them to serve another Master. They will never serve the King.”

“You do.”

Arandur shook his head, “I was never commanded, I offered. Unless the entire Clan decides to make that choice, the Home Guard will still need more people and quickly. Too many elves have wearied of this constant fighting. They will soon sail and the Home Guard will falter.”

“But it is possible,” Legolas insisted, not about to be deflected from the idea. “With the Avari backing us, now is the time to drive the last vestiges of evil from Eryn Lasgalen, not to continue to hide behind the Gates of Mirkwood.”

“Of course it is possible!” Arandur forcibly maintained his calm, realising with no measure of trepidation that he did not like having his position challenged. It was one thing to defer to the King, but as Captain of the Home Guard, his decision on the defence of the Realm had rarely, if ever, been challenged. With the Prince on the Borders, fighting to keep the orcs and spiders at bay with what he was given, there had been no one to gainsay Arandur’s authority. To suddenly find that position reversed by this young elf was disconcerting.

*~ Was this was Cothion felt when Mistress took her vows? ~*

“Then you agree with me.”

“No.”

“I want the recruits for the Borders, Captain.” Legolas stopped walking and confronted the dark elf, finally losing what little of his patience that was left.

“That is not for you to decide, my Lord.” Arandur resolutely held his ground.

Legolas shook his head and smiled, confusing Arandur with its unexpected appearance. “How can you call me ‘my Lord’ and disobey me all in the same breath?”

Arandur blinked at the wry humour behind the question. “Because you are wrong.”

Legolas drew himself up to his full height and said coldly, pleasant veneer finally rubbed off. “I will rid my forest of the evil that haunts it with my wife’s help. Will you stop us?”

Arandur lifted a sardonic eyebrow, “And do you know where this evil lies that you so blithely make such promises? The King was unable to do so, why do you think you will succeed?” Before Legolas could answer, Arandur continued, “If you go charging into something you have no idea about, you will leave your people unprepared and unprotected. Has one Quest changed you so much that you have forgotten everything you have learnt? We have always fought for what is ours but we have never taken the offensive. We do not have the strength to do so.”

“We do now. The Quest taught me much, things which you have not learnt. Risk must be taken if victory is to be achieved. The courage of a few can overcome many odds, more than you can imagine. If you do not have the courage to take that risk then let me take it for you. I know this is right – I can feel our time is near if only we grab it now.”

“I do not know what you feel, my Lord,” said Arandur formally, “but I know this. You have given me no facts on which I would consider giving you the extra numbers. And, yes, while the decision lies with the King, I will not recommend this course of action. There is no reason to change what has served us well.”

“Change will come, whether you like it or not, Captain,” challenged Legolas.

“It will have to wait until your return,” Arandur pointed out. “Or were you planning to take on new recruits, only to leave them while you attend weddings and banquets in Gondor?”

“They will keep till then.”

“They will be mine by the time your return.” The Avari’s voice betrayed no uncertainty.

“That is a challenge I gladly accept, Captain.” Legolas saluted and walked off, fuming behind his once again lovely smile.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“I have never seen you argue so much in all your life as you have since your return from the Quest.” Herenion’s lazy, amused yet disapproving voice stopped Legolas in his tracks.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

Legolas sighed and turned to face Herenion. “Why is it that you are never there when I need you?”

“I think you were doing fine all on your own.”

“You truly think so?” Legolas asked dubiously. There was something in Herenion’s voice that was just not right.

“I think you were most successful in upsetting our fine Captain, who has always toiled so diligently for the Realm.”

“I did not mean to do that.”

“Then why argue with him so?”

“He was wrong.”

“And did you convince him otherwise?”

Legolas shook his head. “I think I just put his guard up.”

“And thus managed to make your task all the more difficult. It is not the Captain who will give you the troops that you want, but the King. And the King has his own concerns and ideas about defence. If you had Arandur’s support it would have added weight to your argument and gone a long way in convincing Thranduil. Now,” Herenion shook his head. “You like things to be difficult, do you not?”

Legolas threw up his hands in defeat, sinking onto a nearby bench. “Why is it that you are always around when I make a fool of myself?”

“I cannot help it, you give me so many opportunities,” Herenion jested as he took the seat next to the young elf.

Legolas pulled a sour face at the joke. “I think you can smell it when I am trouble.”

“I do not know about smelling trouble but I can definitely feel it. When you are in trouble I feel it deep in me – here.”

Legolas looked up to see Herenion point to his heart and knew the truth behind those words. “Why did you come looking for me?”

“I am your Bodyguard, am I not? I should be where you are.”

“Herenion, I have not needed a guard to shadow my footsteps for a long time, especially so near the Palace. If having you near did not make Adar breathe easier I would have reassigned you ages ago.”

Herenion lent back, casually draping an arm over his young charge’s shoulders. “And what makes you think, little Prince, that you would have any say in where I go? Since you so readily admit that having me near makes Thranduil feel secure, I am going to be stuck be your side like a burr until Arda’s song ceases.”

Legolas sighed, with a little more drama than justified. Herenion knew as well as he that the elder’s elf presence was a comfort not only for Thranduil. “What had you come to see me about, Herenion?” Legolas had meant for the question to come out as firm, but even to him it sounded lovingly exasperated.

Herenion smiled briefly, wondering where to start. It had seemed all so clear when he had seen Maenon leave the King’s chambers. He would warn Legolas about Thranduil’s plans without really betraying the King’s trust. After all, Legolas deserved to know what was happening. He deserved to know Thranduil’s suspicion about the Princess, before Legolas became more entangled than he already was. Herenion owed him that much.

But where to begin and how to do it without bringing down the wrath of Thranduil on him? ‘Your father is spying on your wife’ just did not have that subtlety he was looking for.

“What is it, Herenion?” Legolas asked concerned. “You are never this quiet. It must be serious.”

Herenion leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “I believe it is. You might disagree.”

“Why do you not tell me and let me judge?” Legolas encouraged gently.

“Well, it is a little complicated,” Herenion hedged as the words, which by nature should have come easily, slipped away from him like water through a cusped hand.

“Is it ever uncomplicated?” Legolas asked wryly. “Tell me.”

“I saw Maenon today.”

“Good for you.”

“I saw him leaving the King’s Chambers.”

“Such an unusual occurrence for the King’s Captain to be in the King’s chambers, is it not?”

 “Be serious, Legolas. I am trying to tell you something important.”

“You saw Captain Maenon leave the King’s chambers today. It does not yet sound serious to me,” said Legolas lazily.

“You are not letting me speak.” Herenion sighed, clasping his hands together, trying to find the strength to do the right thing, to speak the truth, to cut through this predicament. “I saw Maenon today, heading out on the King’s business. He was heading,” Herenion paused, “or at least, it looked like, he was heading towards …”

“Herenion.” The tone was so firm that Herenion trailed off to blink at Legolas. “Perhaps you should not finish.”

“If I do not finish then how will you know what I saw?”

“Maybe it is best I do not know what you saw – or thought you saw.” Legolas repeated firmly.

“How can you say that?” Herenion demanded when he realised that Legolas’ words were a caution not a question.

“If Maenon was on the King’s business then that is between him and the King. If the King wants me to know then he will tell me.”

“And if he does not tell you?”

“Then I do not need to know.”

“Even if it concerns your wife?”

Legolas hissed as if scalded, “Herenion, we will not speak about this.”

“But we must,” Herenion insisted, more convinced than ever that Legolas had to know what was happening. He could not let him ruin his marriage through ignorance.

“Herenion, please.” Legolas begged but to no avail. Herenion was determined and a determined Herenion was implacable.

“I saw Maenon today and he was going to keep an eye on your wife.” When Legolas kept silent, Herenion looked up incredulously. “Did you not hear what I said?”

“I heard – all too well,” Legolas whispered.

“Then perhaps you did not understand. Your father is spying on your wife.” Herenion winced at the words – so much for subtlety.

“My King is spying on the Avari. There is a distinction,” Legolas returned quietly.

Herenion’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “You knew.”

“I suspected.”

“And you said nothing?” Herenion was shocked that his little Prince could be so close mouthed – so much like his father.

“What would you have me say when my own company keeps an eye on hers? That the King would be less vigilant? The only thing I am surprised about is that he thought the situation merited Maenon’s attention.”

“And you are not worried about that? You are not worried about what Maenon will do to your wife?”

Legolas glared at Herenion, slightly pale but resolute. “I would not have to worry about it if you had not taken it upon yourself to tell me.”

“So you would have ignored the problem?”

“There is no problem! All you have seen is Maenon leave Ada’s Chambers. That does not prove anything. Until the King tells me otherwise, there is no problem.”

“And are you so sure that the King will tell you if there is?”

‘The King will not hide anything of import from me. I am his son and Heir,” stated Legolas confidently.

“As he told you about his spying mission on your wife?” asked Herenion recklessly.

Legolas stood up from the bench. “Why could you not let things be?”

“I thought I was protecting you,” said Herenion, a little hurt at this turn of events. 

“And I appreciate the thought, but what would you have me do, Herenion? March up to Rhinure and tell her that the King’s spies watch her and she should be careful?”

“Yes.”

Legolas sat down once more in surprise. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am. I want you to go speak to your wife.”

“Herenion, why do you think Ada allowed me to go to Gondor?”

Herenion blinked at the change of topics but answered the question nonetheless. “Because you wanted to go.”

“What are you hinting at, Prince?”

“Perhaps my being away will prevent the Father from interfering with the King?”

“Do you honestly believe that about your father?”

“What I believe is irrelevant. I know that with Rhinure and myself away from Eryn Lasgalen, there will be less restraint on Adar. In his own way, he cares for her. With her gone, the Avari will lose their most personal face. What will hold the King back from his plans then?”

“You cannot know that. This is just speculation.” Now it was Herenion who denied what was being said.

 “It was speculation. Now that you have confirmed that Meanon watches my Lady, it is much more.”

“The King is not so cold.”

“The King is the King – hot and cold as needed.” Legolas shook his head at Herenion’s faith. “I do not say that this was the prime motive in allowing the visit. Adar loves me, and knows how much I want to be in Gondor to share this occasion – and there is information to be gathered and embassies to be formed. I am the best suited for the task. However, I know my father like the beat of my own heart – this is an opportunity he will not waste.”

“And you will tell you wife nothing! Even though she leaves because of you? Even though you are the only reason why the Avari will be unprotected?” Herenion persisted.

“I do not know!” Legolas exploded. “I do not know what the King plans and I have consciously avoided asking him. If he holds back then he too must have a good reason. I cannot tell Rhinure anything if it will jeopardise my people.”

Legolas jumped up again, striding back and forth in agitation. “I did not want to deal with this. I did not want my duty to compromise what I was building with Rhinure. I did not want this.”

“You cannot ignore the problem, child. If I had not told you, it would not have changed Maenon’s charge.”

“At least then I would have only my suspicions and no proof.” Legolas said belligerently.

“You have to speak to her.”

“You mean I have to choose between her and my people.”

“I say nothing of the sort.” Herenion, too, rose in anger. “She is your wife.”

“Who hides things from me.”

“As you do from her!” Herenion calmed enough to continue reasonably. “If you do not make a move, any move, to win her trust, you both will always circle each other as predators over prey. You must speak to her – confront her over what she hides. Perhaps then neither of you will need to rely so much on such machinations.”

“Somehow, I highly doubt that.”

“You will never know if you do not try,” Herenion insisted.

“You are putting me in a position which could hurt the Wood-elves.”

“Or save them. A little honestly cannot hurt. If only both elves sat down and truly talked there is little that cannot be solved.”

“I wish I could share your faith,” said Legolas sadly.

“If you do not make an effort then you will never have any faith. Speak to her.”

“And what if you are wrong?”

“And what if I am right? Do you not want all this suspicion to end?”

“Yes, but  ...”

“Then do as I say.”

“Herenion, I cannot choose between her and Ada.”

“Thranduil will understand, he always does. There is nothing he will not give you. Choose your wife if you have to. Cement that bond.” Herenion gently drew Legolas towards the Palace. “Besides,” he added slyly, “Thranduil will cave like a drunken Dwarf if you whine. He always has, why should it change now? You know I am right.

And Legolas wanted to believe that. With the memories of recent, pleasurable days and nights still fresh in his mind, he wanted to believe Herenion so much. After all, he would only warn her as any husband must. Just a little caution that the King was not unaware that she hid something and that, in the end, Thranduil would find out.

Yes, Rhinure had to be warned not to oppose the King. Legolas shuddered at the thought of his wife going head to head with the King. She would be crushed and he could not allow that. He could not allow harm to come to her – even it was from his father.

She must be convinced of the futility of keeping secrets from Thranduil and then she see that her only choice was to confide in Legolas. He would protect her.

He hoped.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure walked in the gardens, hand rested on the forearm of her Heir, wondering if Cothion would speak of what was bothering him. On any other day she would have dismissed this stroll as aimless, Cothion’s testing of her patience, if she had not known of the conversation between the two brothers. When Cothion had appeared at her door along with the early dawn, she had known that it had not gone well. Rarely did Cothion need his Mistress, but even Rhinure was sensitive enough to realise that this was one of those occasions.

He had not said anything and she had not asked, just quietly changing into her blackest gown, carefully pinning back her hair and assuming the role she had chosen for life. Cothion’s eyes had followed her with a hungry emptiness as she gathered her cloak, swinging it around her shoulders to ward off more than the morning chill.

Silently he offered his arm and silently she accepted, not questioning it when he led them towards the gardens. Cothion was no fonder of flowers and shrubbery than she, but at least the gardens were quiet and not likely to be occupied at such an early hour. Rhinure had nodded to Istion to follow, but at a distance. She did not think he would be needed, but then it could not hurt to have another arm for what was to come.

Together, the Avari Mistress and her Commander, walked the gardens, greeting the rising Sun with a delight that was perhaps instinctive and deeply personal to elves. As Anor’s light filled the sky, still no words were spoken, neither elf feeling the need to break the peace with something as vulgar as words. They were together, she was there when he needed her – she understood without being told and she healed him without having to see the scars.

Cothion, too, had understood that she was tired, that he was intruding in what was perhaps her only private time. Quietly, he led her to a shaded bench, hidden in a little corner, sitting and gently pulling her down next to him. Then with a gentleness tinged with the impersonal, he rested her head on his shoulder, a comrade offering rest to an other, allowing her to doze while he watched over her. Istion respectfully retired to a discrete distance, understanding that this was between Rhinure and Cothion – an elf who had been in her life longer than her own father.

It did not take her long to doze off, Cothion noted with some displeasure and concern. The Prince had tired her out. He would have to speak to her about that – while it was good that she was enjoying the pleasures the marriage bed offered, she must not wear herself out completely. With a tenderness he would never show if she were awake or if Istion was nearer, he carefully folded an arm around her, gathering her to himself so that she could rest more safely.

And that is how he spent the early hours of the morning, listening to the hushed music of Rhinure’s breathing and remembering a little elf who had fallen asleep in his arms with as must trust and faith as his young Mistress did.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

In another corner of the Palace, in a similarly early hour of the day, another silent conversation was taking place – though this one was not so comfortable or knowing. For almost an Age, Arandur had started his day by reporting to the King. Today was no exception in that he was in the King’s presence, but, unlike before, Arandur was hesitant. He wanted to tell Thranduil about the conversation he had with Cothion but he did not know where to begin.

“Have you finished?”

Arandur started at the relaxed, almost lazy question. “Finished what, my Lord?”

“Composing whatever is so important in your head.”

It was to Arandur’s credit, or perhaps, years of practice at being unsurprised at Thranduil’s prescience, that he did not jump at the comment. “Not yet, my Lord. I find my usual lack of words more of a hindrance today that ever,” he countered smoothly.

“May I help?” And before Arandur could answer, Thranduil motioned him to take a seat. This conversation was best conducted seated.

Arandur reluctantly slid into the chair in front of the King, taking care not to sink into the treacherous velvet cushions. He had never understood Thranduil’s penchant for such deep cushions.

Thranduil smiled as he watched Arandur struggle with the chair. Even after all this time it never failed to amuse, and enlighten, when people sat in that velvet chair. Legolas burrowed into it unselfconsciously, delighting in the softness. Eruante, his precious wife, whose skin was softer than the softest velvet, had always rested her back, using the cushions to support her spine. Herenion flopped in it – but then he always did with anything – deep cushions or not. After two ages he had managed to perfect that indolent pose, even if sitting on burning rock. And Arandur – he always looked like if the chair was a trap; and it was, sort of – one to make him relax and unwind – one that had never worked yet.

“Are you comfortable?”

“No,” said Arandur with characteristic honesty.

 “Would you like to stand?”

“Yes.”

“However, I would like you to sit.”

“As my King commands.”

Thranduil smiled and lent back in his own chair, which had no cushions and was not half as comfortable, or half as distracting. “I wonder if you will always obey my commands with such alacrity.”

“My Lord?” Arandur asked, puzzled by the question and fairly impatient to throw down a few cushions. How did anyone sit straight in this chair?

“Will you always obey my commands, even when they are unpleasant?”

“I have so sworn, my Lord,” Arandur paused and could not help adding, “I am sitting in this chair, am I not?”

Thranduil smiled slightly, acknowledging the rare jest from the Avari, but quickly his face turned serious. “Even if the orders countermanded your brother’s?”

Arandur’s spine stiffened and his face emptied. The silence continued a little longer as Arandur wondered what to say while Thranduil watched him closely.

 “Perhaps I should start. Who is Cothion to you?”

Thranduil’s tone and the abruptness of the question sparked an answering acidity, deep in Arandur’s gut, where he struggled to contain it. “He is the Avari Commander and Heir.”

“Not your brother?”

Arandur managed to keep any retort away from his lips while his face remained impassive. Instead he answered calmly, as befitted his Clan and station. “He was my brother. Now he is the Commander.”

Thranduil frowned at the distinction, understanding from Arandur’s tone that this was some Avari distinction that he was not appreciating.

“Can you truly divorce blood so casually?” asked Thranduil carefully, appalled that Arandur would say such a thing, but careful not to give away anything. He, too, could match Avari impassivity when he needed to.

“There is nothing to divorce. He sent me away.”

“And you resent him for that.”

 “If I do or do not, that is something for me alone, my King,” said Arandur firmly, ending that unwelcome line of questioning. “I repeat, Cothion is my Commander and Avari Heir. That is all.”

“Then does he command you?” Thranduil pounced on the unintended possessive in Arandur’s statement.

“Yes, I am Avari. I still serve the Clan.”

Thranduil sighed, wondering why conversations with Arandur became so circuitous. “Should I fear that your loyalties have been divided, Captain?”

“You once did and now I wear three Rings, my Lord. As long as I live I will serve you.”

“And if that puts your in conflict with your brother?’

“Then is it not good that I do not have one?” Arandur stood from the chair, determined to say what he had planned before the King confused and entangled the conversation further. “I chose to serve you, my Lord. Even if I could, nothing has yet made me want to change than decision and I doubt that anything will.” Arandur swallowed and forged again before Thranduil could say anything. “But Cothion might not understand this, my Lord.”

“Really?”

Arandur narrowed his eyes at the unsurprised inflection in Thranduil’s question. “You know.”

Thranduil shrugged off the impertinent accusation. “Yes.” He paused before asking pointedly, “Did you expect me not too, especially after your warning about the Commander?”

“Then this whole conversation was meaningless.”

“Nothing is ever meaningless, Captain. The meaning is just hidden better in some situations than others.”

Arandur rose, not wanting to get into another oblique conversation with the King. “Either way my caution was unnecessary, my Lord.”

“Not so, Captain. You acquitted your duty most admirably.”

“And what duty was that, my lord?” asked Arandur, unable to help himself from asking the question.

“Warning Us no matter what the danger.”

“May I be excused, my Lord. I have other tasks to attend to before I can see to the new recruits.”

“Of course.” Thranduil waved for Arandur to continue, waiting until the Avari was near the door before adding, “Thank you for trying.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“I talked to Arandur last night.” Cothion said quietly, as he watched the noon Sun blaze in the sky.

“I know.”` Rhinure returned as calmly. “Do you wish to discuss it?”

“I am uncertain as to what I should tell you. Arandur is King Thranduil’s Captain and the Avari in him seems to have been lost.”

Rhinure swallowed at the bleak statement. “Just because the Avari in him has changed, it does not make him any less a part of us.”

“How much does one have to change before one loses the core of one’s identity, Mistress?”

Such a loaded question and one Rhinure had so much difficulty answering for herself. “I cannot say,” she admitted honestly, knowing that if she looked up right now she would see the question in Cothion’s eyes – if she did not know then how could she prevent it happening to her?

“But I do know this, if one does not change, one is left behind. Change is inevitable.”

Cothion nodded, accepting the risk but not liking it at all. As he stood, he cautiously picked one rose from a nearby bush and handed it to his Mistress, bending over it slightly, causing his hair to swing forward. “For you, Mistress.”

“So gallant, Commander,” said Rhinure sharply, noting that Cothion’s profile was hidden from view.

Cothion came a little closer, carefully letting his hair shield his face. “We are being watched.”

Rhinure bent over the flower, pitching her voice low. “I know. We have been watched since I came to Eryn Lasgalen, and it has worsened since you came home with us.”

Cothion frowned, wondering if she baited him with her choice of words. “And you said nothing.”

“I assumed that you were aware of it too.”

“We were watched last night as well, Arandur and I, while we talked.”

“Then I hope everything you said was circumspect, for the King probably has a full report of it by now.”

“It might not have been,” Cothion said after a quick recall of last night’s conversation.

“What?” Rhinure’s fist closed around the bloom, snapping the stem, though neither elf noticed.

“I might have questioned, hypothetically speaking, who Arandur would have chosen if he had to – Avari or Silvan.”

Rhinure sighed, linking her arm through Cothion’s and leading him away from the trees that provided too much cover. “And you felt that necessary because?”

“Because I know what choice is coming.”

Rhinure dug her nails into Cothion’s arm, telling him to be quiet. “There is no choice to be made as yet. And it was unfair of you to put Arandur in that position for something that could very well never happen.”

“Life is unfair, Mistress. And do you really believe that we will not be made to choose – one or the other. Is that not why I am here – to make that choice?”

Rhinure looked coldly up at Cothion. “To help me make that choice – if it ever comes.” Cothion nodded his assent and she continued. “Baiting the Captain of the Home Guard is not helping. The King will not appreciate such suppositions.”

 Cothion flushed a dull red as the barb hit home. “I will be more careful, Mistress.”

“See that you are, Commander. Or I will have to send you back to Tirnen.”

Cothion said nothing, there was nothing to be said. Mistress Rhinure would do what she said and he doubted if she let him come to the Realm again, at least for a very long time, long enough to lose his brother again.

“Did you get anything useful out of him though?” asked Rhinure when she felt Cothion had enough time to head her warning.

Cothion nodded, telling her what he had learnt of the elves devotion to their King. If the Prince commanded even half of the loyalty that the King did, the Avari’s work would be a lot simpler. With Rhinure being able to claim Legolas’ support as his wife, the Wood-elves would fall in line. They would not let their Prince fail in his duty – no matter how unpleasant or dangerous.

 “He does.”

Cothion paused, surprised at Rhinure’s conviction. “And how do you come to that conclusion?”

“His company and the Border Patrol is proof enough, even if you did not account for the behaviour of his Bodyguard and the Palace staff.”

Cothion sniffed at the mention of Herenion. “I get the distinct impression that the First Guard’s loyalty is to the King and not to the Prince.”

“I would say that the King and the Prince often go hand in hand. Is that not what we gambled on – two elves, but one identity?”

“I have noticed it, too.”

“The King and the Prince together give a sense of continuity that is appealing to the Wood-elves. They work as a team – and a winning one at that.”

“Much like the Sacrifice and her Heir.”

Rhinure smiled, “Yes, much like us.”

“It will be interesting to see these two teams play against one another,” Cothion mused.

“Interesting was not a word I would use,” replied Rhinure archly, causing Cothion to grin.

“Then let us make it so.”

Rhinure shook her head, Cothion recklessness was intoxicating – though misplaced. “Let us avoid interesting situations for now. We will have enough of them soon without you creating your own.”

“Where is your sense of adventure, Mistress?” Cothion teased.

“Thankfully buried deep, where it should be. Perhaps I should bury yours as well?” said Rhinure mischievously, enjoying this time alone with Cothion.

“You will have to bury me as well then, Mistress.”

“That can be arranged,” smiled Rhinure, looking up at Cothion with a playful light in her eyes.

“I am sure you will manage,” grinned Cothion, looking – and feeling – ages younger. 

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Legolas stepped onto the balcony overlooking the gardens, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rhinure. She was not in her rooms, but the guards had said that she was heading in the directions of the gardens.

Legolas paused, frowning when he saw his wife’s familiar shape walking alongside Cothion. The guards had failed to mention that she was not alone. Legolas’ already foul mood took a turn for the worse.

What are the two Avari talking about? And must they stand so closely? Legolas wondered bitterly.

He was about to head for the garden, when an unexpected sound stopped him in his tracks. So unfamiliar was it that it rooted him to his spot, shocking him to immobility.

It was the sound of Rhinure’s laughter, laughter that another had coaxed out of her.

And it was a sound that tore at his bruised heart.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“I think the Prince is about to join us,” noted Cothion, abruptly calming down from their unexpected hilarity. Emotions were dangerous but then, what was life without a little danger?

“How do you know?” asked Rhinure, careful to avoid looking at Cothion after that embarrassing display.

“I can see him watching us from the balcony yonder,” Cothion pointed with a swift tilt of his head.

Rhinure turned instinctively in the direction Cothion indicated, unable to disguise the delight the sight of her husband caused, even from a distance.

“Mistress, you are not being careful,” admonished Cothion lightly, drawing Rhinure’s attention away from the figure in the balcony back towards him.

“About what exactly?”

“About the Prince. We warned you, did we not, about the Prince and the distance you must maintain? Did I, myself, not warn you of emotional entanglements only a couple of days ago?”

“And I heeded the warning.”

“And still you turn towards the Prince like a moth towards a flame, unheeding of the danger?”

“Cothion, I just turned to see where he was, that is all,” said Rhinure reasonably, realising that Cothion did not mean to antagonise her, but was concerned.

“Mistress,” Cothion shook his head, leading her away from the balcony, where the Prince still stood. “Even now your eyes stray to where he stands. Why?”

“I wonder why he has not moved if he had seen us,” defended Rhinure.

“Are you sure?” Cothion asked tiredly, feeling the weight of this situation and his worry for his Sacrifice. “Are you sure it is not because you like looking at him?”

“And if I do? Where is the crime in that? He is a handsome elf.”

“That he is, and he knows it too.”

“What are you trying to suggest, Commander?”

“Only that Prince Legolas is well aware of his advantages and how best to use them.”

“Such as?” Rhinure asked carefully, wondering at the lack of animosity in this conversation. She had not seen Cothion so reasonable in such a long time – where was the impulsiveness which gave her an edge so often? This quiet, patient Cothion sounded too much like her First Advisor for Rhinure to dismiss what was being said. Though that also meant that Rhinure was not going to like what was being said.

“Such as his obvious beauty. The Prince uses that as a weapon too against you.” Rhinure remained silent, obviously sceptical of what Cothion was saying, forcing him to continue.  “You must have noticed that he always presents himself in a flattering light?”

“Do we all not do that?”

“To an extent, but even you, with your limited experience with the opposite sex, will appreciate the difference between making yourself presentable and seducing someone with your appearance.”

“Are you implying that the Prince is trying to seduce me?” Rhinure asked sharply, not liking the implication that someone was able to control her, especially her husband.

“I do not think he is trying – I think he is succeeding.”

“Commander!” Rhinure pulled away from Cothion but the older elf was faster. He held on to her arm, stopping her from walking away.

“Please, Rhinure, listen to me.”

The use of her name made Rhinure stop trying to pull away. Very rarely did Cothion ever overstep the convention of Sacrifice and Heir to address her so intimately and when he did, it was usually serious.

Cothion considered his words before speaking. It was important that Rhinure understood what he was trying to say, what he was trying to warn her about. “Mistress, first I must ask you to remember that this is not a test. I appreciate the difficult situation you are in and I only aim to help you.”

Rhinure nodded, “I will remember.”

“And you will take my comments for what they are – observations and not accusations?”

“I will try, Cothion; but I ask you too to be careful. This is my marriage of which you speak – there is a limit to which I will accept interference, even if it is in the form of well meaning observations. I am not trying to shirk my duty, but remember the position I am in.”

Cothion nodded and continued dryly, “Did you notice how quick you were to defend your marriage?”

“Should I not be?”

“Against me, my Sacrifice?” Cothion asked, a little hurt. “I am your Heir and your Avari. Why would I try to sabotage something that should be so important?”

“Would you not, if it were necessary for our people?”

“Undoubtedly, but are you saying that it is necessary for our people, Mistress?”

“No, but …”

“Then why do you assume that what I do and say is to your determent?”

“I cannot forget the warning you and the Council have given me time and time again, Commander. I must always work within their bounds otherwise …” Rhinure trailed off meaningfully.

“They were just that, Mistress – warnings. A declaration of what we must do if it ever became necessary. And they were guidance to – to help you in a situation that is not easy. We all appreciate and acknowledge that you may be our best hope in this time to come.”

“Then why do you question me so?”

“I do not question you – I just caution you.” Cothion repeated. “How could I not?” he asked sharply. “Look at yourself – you are exhausted. How can you do your duty in such a state?”

Rhinure frowned, not certain what Cothion was leading up to.

“The Prince is to blame for your current state.” When Rhinure made to protest, Cothion cut her off. “Even now you defend him – against someone who has proved time and time again to be on your side. Do you wonder now why I blame him for your situation?

“He is pushing you too fast and though you resist, the strain of capitulating is tiring you out, Mistress. All of us can see it.”

“I appreciate your concern …”

“Then heed what we say.”

“… however, your reading of the situation is a little simplistic. Legolas demands a lot from me, I know that, but I also know how much to give and what to withhold.”

“I am less certain, Mistress. From what I have seen, you do not seem to be withholding much.”

“What have you seen which is so different from my experience, Commander?”

“How many times have your nights ended up in his bed?” Cothion asked bluntly, throwing Rhinure off balance and stunning her into silence.

“I do not have to answer such impertinent questions, Commander.”

“Then I have my answer already – too many. The marriage bed is pleasurable, I will not deny that, and for one as young as you, that pleasure is seductive. But at the same time, it is dangerous as well.”

“I disagree,” Rhinure protested. “I am allowed to enjoy some benefits of being married.”

“Rhinure, you are deliberately misunderstanding what I am saying. Enjoy what the Prince can offer but be aware of the price he exacts.” Seeing Rhinure’s bewildered look, Cothion asked incredulously, “Please tell me that you are aware of how the Prince deflects confrontations with you by taking advantage of your physical bond.” At Rhinure’s silence, Cothion forced himself to continue, aware that Rhinure had lost what little colour she had. “Have you never wondered why so much of your time is spent in his bed and not talking?”

“I thought you wanted me to avoid conversation, Cothion. How better to do it than keep him otherwise occupied?”

“And if you were the one to take this course of action, I would commend you. But I have noticed that more often than not, he is the one who initiates the physical contact and you are the one who submits.”

“That is not fair!” Rhinure felt like a child who was being reprimanded by her elder for a grievous wrong and she did not like the feeling.

“Perhaps I am mistaken, but I do not think so. I think the Prince uses the obvious attraction between the two of you to make you do what he wants – and that is dangerous. Even you must realise that.”

“That is not fair,” Rhinure repeated softly, wrapping her arms around herself in an instinctive gesture to ward away Cothion’s words.

“Mistress,” Cothion gently took her hands in his, making her look at him. “I do not say this to hurt you but I must make you see. The Prince uses you.”

“Is that so wrong when I use him too?” Rhinure asked, with a broken shade of defiance.

“No. I am not saying it is wrong or right – the Prince too must have his reasons. I cannot say that I envy his position – a husband should not have to use any tricks against his wife but that does not change the fact that he does. I just want you to be aware and thus prepared for it.”

“I do not believe you.” Rhinure freed her arms and turned away.

“How did he convince you to accompany him to Gondor?”

Rhinure turned to answer but a horrifying scene flashed before her eyes, causing her to fall silent.

You will enjoy yourself, darling … Do you not want to spend the time with me? … We would be away from all other distractions – alone.

Legolas kissing her until she could not speak, Legolas coaxing her with his mouth and his hands until she said yes.

Legolas caressing her lips, cradling her in his lap, until she told him about Arandur and Cothion’s conversation.

His caressing her, running his hands through her hair – confusing her – leaving her defenceless.

Rhinure covered her mouth to silence the inarticulate cry, turning away from Cothion so that he could not see the pain on her face.

Cothion waved Istion back, who made to step forward when he saw Rhinure bend over. This was something that she must deal with herself.

“You know I am speaking the truth, Mistress. Even you if dislike what I say – you know I am right.”

“No,” Rhinure whispered. “It is wrong – so wrong. But,” she swallowed, forcing her voice to remain still, “it is the truth.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x