Chapter 7: Ebb and Flow Part 2 (Since the site would not let me add it as one chapter) :-(

Cothion turned to Ehtewen asking pointedly, “What will you do now?”

 “Speak to her.”

“Is that wise given the way she just reacted?”

 “Speak to me not of wisdom, Commander, given your recent behaviour,” Ehtewen retorted.

“I had just cause.”

 “From where I stand, so does she.” Ehtewen shook her head in disgust. “You crossed the line, Commander, and unlike the Sacrifice, you cannot accuse me of not seeing clearly.”

Cothion’s cheeks burned and his hands fisted tightly by his side, though he did not make a further mistake by raising them against the First Guard, no matter what the temptation. He wanted to break something, squeeze something until feeling left his hand and the ache, his heart. 

“Leave it be, Commander,” cautioned Ehtewen, knowing full well where his thoughts were leading. It was unfortunate that both Mistress and her Heir had broken down so easily. While Ehtewen understood, and at some level even sympathised, as First Guard she could not forgive. “Take a page from the lesson you have been trying to reach Rhinure.”

Cothion folded his arms. “I know not what you speak of.”

“You may deny the private conversations you have had with Mistress but you should know that she keeps no secrets from me.”

“Are you so sure?” Cothion challenged. “What of the secrets of the heart?”

“She has no secrets from me,” Ehtewen repeated confidently. “I have raised her. I know her.”

“I would not be so confident, First Guard. The child has grown up. She has changed.”

“Not so much that I cannot understand her, change her back if need be.”

Cothion mentally shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to pursue this topic. Time would show the truth, and he was certain that it would prove him right. Ehtewen’s understanding of Rhinure was unparalleled, but sometimes one could be too close to see clearly. For now he would allow the First Guard to believe what she would, but in Council he would not allow her illusions to cloud Mistress’ judgement. 

“I will speak to her, Commander,” Ehtewen repeated once more, trying to convince him that she could manage. It was imperative that he believed her before he left for Tirnen and spoke to Túrgwaith about convening the Council.

Cothion nodded even though he did not necessarily think her talking to Rhinure would solve the problem. He did not even know if the problem could be solved, but the First Guard had to try – Rhinure was weakening – flashes of her old steel aside – and, he had to admit, he was not helping. Perhaps it was best if he left Eryn Lasgalen. 

But to leave his Mistress unprotected did not sit well with him. No matter what Rhinure and Ehtewen thought, this was not about Aradnur – at least, not completely.  This was about protecting the Clan and that meant protecting Rhinure. At this moment, the Avari needed the Wood-elves, and therefore, needed Mistress to remain married to the Prince. When this moment passed, Mistress would be free to succumb to the madness he had glimpsed in her eyes. Till then she had to be strong.

Somehow, Cothion had to help. Perhaps speaking to the Prince would help ... warning him that Rhinure was not unprotected and alone. 

The Commander fell into silence and, eventually, so did Ehtewen, realising that he was no longer listening but pleased that he had fallen in with her plans so quickly; she had feared he would have made trouble by insisting on helping. Cothion meant well, but some situations required a subtle touch – a woman’s touch.

Neither elf noticed in their silent contemplation of the future, a worried Istion in the room. He had seen Rhinure command but he had never seen her like this. To order the Council to lie … how could that be correct? How could deception, especially from those sworn to serve and obey, help the Avari?

Istion shifted in the corner, feeling unnoticed and unimportant. What was he to do? He had to obey Mistress; there was no doubt about that, but how to obey when he thought she was wrong? The Avari and the Silvan elves would never be ‘friends’, and pretending otherwise would not make it so. Cothion was correct when he said that an Avari would lose his identity if he did not behave as an Avari. What was the Sacrifice doing by ordering something so contrary, so wrong?

Was it still one’s duty to obey even when one believed something different, or was it blindness?

The thought revolved in Istion’s head, finding no resolution. He glanced at the Commander and the First Guard, hoping for an opportunity to ask if they had an answer to his questions. When they did not glance his way, Istion slipped out of the room, hurrying in the direction Mistress had headed. Perhaps she could spare him some time to explain.

Perhaps she could spare him some time, period.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure marched out of the room, fuming at the situation she had been put in – fuming that Cothion did not display better sense. There was a time for passion, for madness, for that which teachings denied but which often topped the balance in one’s favour. It was not something that any of the Avari acknowledged consciously for it was dangerous – but like any dangerous thing, fire and passion, heat and insanity had their uses; they just had to be  harnessed sparingly and used very, very carefully. Rhinure heeded this reminder that Cothion still had not learnt how to do so properly. But most of all, Rhinure was fuming for she knew that in a similar situation she would have probably done the same thing – she would not have been able to help herself. Family tended to try one’s patience on the best of days and Cothion’s love for Arandur has always been strong – too strong. 

Rhinure could understand why he had behaved as he did but she was finding it hard to forgive him; she did not know if she would be able to find it in herself to do so. And if she was unable to forgive him, then was she letting her feeling of betrayal win? Was she not as guilty as he then?

Only one thought was clear in her mind, the behaviour of her Avari could not be allowed to jeopardise this alliance. The Wood-elves must be kept happy – somehow. 

“Where do you rush off to, my Lady? Tarry a moment – I have need of you.”

That sweet command wrapped in a question, stopped Rhinure in her tracks, making all her good intentions vanish together. All she wanted to do was hide, from him and from the part of her which throbbed with pain at the very sound of her husband’s voice. Rhinure was in such a hurry to get away from the compound, and that unpleasant altercation, that she did not see Legolas coming until strong hands dropped onto her shoulders.

“Careful, my Lady. You will mow down people if you walk any faster,” said Legolas pleasantly, keeping his hands firmly on her shoulders. They were standing so close that Legolas could fill his lungs with her scent. It was still potent enough to make him ache.

“Perhaps they deserve to be, my Lord, if they do not have the sense to get out of my way.” Rhinure shrugged her shoulders in an effort to get Legolas to loosen his grip but to no avail.

“Such callousness, my Lady. I despair of you.”

“Perhaps then you should leave me be, my Lord,” shot back Rhinure, looking up into Legolas smiling face. He was so close that his breath fanned her face, making her slightly light-headed.

“Never,” whispered Legolas seriously, as his veneer cracked for just a moment.

Rhinure swallowed and strove to change the subject. “What brings you here, my Lord?”

“I could ask you the same question but I think I have my answer.” Legolas’ eyes narrowed as he saw who emerged from the room behind Rhinure, but he made no move to let her go.

Rhinure twisted her head to see Cothion watching them. Istion and Ethewen had taken their places behind Rhinure. She shook her head, knowing what made Legolas’ tone frost so. “This gets old, my Lord.”

“I could say the same, my Lady, but I do not think you will listen.” Legolas smiled down at her, conscious that they now had an audience. Both the Prince’s and Princess’ company had emerged from their quarters, attracted by both their presences. Legolas frowned at the tense set of Rhinure’s shoulders, wondering if he should force her to stay. But that would defeat his purpose and destroy the illusion of harmony that he was trying valiantly to rebuild. Although the Prince’s Company were careful in going about their tasks, Legolas could see the covert glances they gave him and his oh-so-reluctant wife.

This would not do. If Rhinure ignored him any longer he would have to do something drastic. He could not allow her insult him publicly as well as wound him privately. But before Legolas could do anything, Rhinure relented and asked, “How may I serve, my Lord?”

Legolas smiled down at her, looking like a devoted newlywed to those around him. The Wood-elves smiled indulgently when Legolas raised Rhinure’s hand for a kiss of greeting, noting how he turned it around to kiss her palm as well. He was a new husband, not yet used to controlling such displays of intimacy. Each ellon and ellyth, warriors and immortals relaxed visibly, forgetting some of their troubles in a rush of affection for their Prince. They might not like the Avari or trust all of them but they were elves after all, and if one of them could inspire such affection in their discerning Prince, then, in the end, there must be good in them after all.

What the elves did not see, perhaps wilfully, was the tight grip Legolas kept on Rhinure’s wrist, or the warning his mouth formed on her palm when she jerked her hand back instinctively – stay. 

Rhinure struggled to keep still as Legolas’ mouth remained on her skin. She would be strong; she would not give into her pain no matter how much Legolas tormented her. She would not allow him to win this game he played with her.

“Was there something you wanted, my Lord?” Rhinure asked coldly, her voice never wavering.

In response, Legolas smiled even more brightly, dropping her hand only to wrap an arm around her waist to bring her closer to him. “Very much so,” he said huskily, looking deeply into her eyes and promising so many things that Rhinure was forced to look away in confusion, burningly aware of the avid audience they had attracted.

“How could I not want, when you are near, my Lady?” Legolas whispered as if Rhinure was the only person near, but not softly enough to be inaudible. If he heard the sigh of the ellyth around him, he gave no sign of it, his concentration focused exclusively on his wife, causing many in the now sizeable crowd to envy her. 

Rhinure stiffened even further, if that was possible, spine becoming ramrod straight. Even if Legolas was unaware of it, she could sense the presence of her Avari, could feel their disapproval at this blatantly public seduction that Legolas was attempting. After all they had been through recently, they did not need this public humiliation of their Sacrifice. She could feel her anger rise at this new tactic which so shamelessly hit at everything the Avari believed and held important about behaviour. His words might be soft but his grip on her was anything but. His fingers bit into her shoulder and unless she struggled there was no way she would get free.

Legolas gathered her even closer, tenderly brushing a lock of hair from her face, causing Rhinure to shudder. Just a little bit longer and he would be able to let her go. Just a little bit longer and he would have his people convinced that all was right between the royal couple. From the corner of his eye, he would see the Wood-elves staring at them. Perhaps, a little kiss would be in order. Something to crown this performance. Warm, but hard fingers, lifted Rhinure’s chin, causing a faint cheer to pass through the crowd. Yes, a kiss was definitely in order.

Rhinure looked up and realised with a jolt that threatened the careful numbness she had forced into her heart, that there was no desire in those blue eyes. They remained calculating and slightly unfocused, as if measuring some distant thing. And that was enough to convince her beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was all a game, an elaborate charade to humiliate and bend her to Legolas’ will. Prove once and for all how weak she was and how she could not control herself, even in public. The thought that Legolas would be so cruel, cut her to the quick.

Legolas stilled slightly as he heard a low moan – of pain – from Rhinure, causing him to shift his focus away from the crown and really look at his wife. What he saw were huge black eyes, shining with something with something that looked like … tears? Legolas’s grip on Rhinure tightened, responding to the incredible pain he saw in those eyes. 

“Rhinure …?”  His mouth lowered to offer what comfort he could.

Suddenly a loud voice cut across the ground, shattering the spell Legolas had so carefully woven, “Mistress, a word with you if you are done with the Prince?”

Legolas looked up to see Cothion standing with a group of Avari around him – all unsmiling and looking at him as if he were obscene. There was such disapproval in their cruel faces that Legolas immediately stiffened, glancing swiftly at Rhinure to see if she felt the same. What he saw was even worse.

Rhinure quickly covered up the sheer relief that flooded her at Cothion interruption. She shot him a grateful look before turning to Legolas. “My Lord? Are we done?”

Legolas’ grip intensified fleetingly before falling away from her waist. Keeping her now would serve no purpose and only highlight his instinct to keep Rhinure as far away from Cothion as possible – it would be churlish.

“If you must, my Princess,” said Legolas with just the right degree of gracious reluctance in his voice. He stepped back, almost regretting it when Rhinure hurried over to Cothion’s side. The way he greeted her, shielding her from view, almost as if he was protecting her, caused a jealous rage to boil in Legolas, but somehow he managed to keep his gaze wistful and just a little woebegone. 

He even managed to keep his poise when Cothion shot him a warning glare that made it clear that he was protecting Rhinure from Legolas. His fists clenched as Cothion swept a dark cloak over Rhinure’s shoulders, clearly leading her and the Avari, away from the crowd.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“Thank you, Commander.” Rhinure adjusted the cloak around her shoulders, pulling her hood up to hide herself from the older elf’s knowing gaze.

“It is my duty to protect you, Mistress, even from your husband if need be.”

Rhinure nodded though her face was completely hidden in shadow. “I know, but you have my thanks, nonetheless.”

“He should not have done it. What is between a husband and wife should always be private.”

“This was not something that is between a husband and wife,” said Rhinure bitterly. “This was a ploy.”

“Are you telling me his ardour was an act?” Cothion stopped in his tracks, unable to comprehend how something so powerful could be faked, and so easily. He had honestly thought the Prince was being improper.

“All of it,” replied Rhinure flatly.

“How will you know what is real between you two and what is not?”

Rhinure shook his head. “I do not know,” she answered honestly, for the moment her anger at Cothion forgotten in the relief his rescue had brought. For a moment, he was just her Commander once more. The elf to whom she would entrust her Avari, the elf she trusted before anyone else for they both lived for their people.

“Then …?” Cothion was reluctant to even ask the question.

Rhinure slowed as she considered what to do next. “I do not know,” she repeated. “I need time to think – alone.”

“I do not know how long you will have, my Sacrifice.”

“Then I will be sure to make haste,” Rhinure smiled, secure that Cothion could not see her expression. “I will not fail our people.”

“I know you will not. You are Avari.” A declaration and a reaffirmation which comforted both elves.

“You will have to excuse me, Commander. Was there something else?”

Cothion thought about asking her for permission to journey back to Tirnen soon. The last missive from Túrgwaith has been disquieting though he had said nothing specific, but Cothion finally decided against it. Mistress still needed him here; she needed his strength until she replenished her own. Somehow he would find the time to give her that at least.

“Nothing that cannot wait.”

“Then I will think about what needs to be done.”

Cothion watched Rhinure leave with Ehtewen and Istion behind her. He noted how slowly she walked, as if weighed down and exhausted. He would have to speak to the Prince; there was no alternative left.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Talking to Legolas proved more difficult than Cothion anticipated, especially as the Prince was involved in preparations for his trip to Gondor along with his normal duties. Days passed and Cothion’s resolve hardened. Since his confrontation with Arandur, Rhinure had made an especial effort to make sure that the Avari were comfortable and able to access her when they needed. Neither she nor Cothion had realised how much the absence of the Sacrifice had laid a strain on the Avari and especially her Hunters. Having her actively involved in their daily lives brought a much needed sense of normality to the Avari. With both Cothion and Rhinure around it was almost as good as being home. But between her Avari and her duties as Eryn Lasgalen’s Princess, Rhinure was exhausting herself and neither the King nor her precious husband seemed to notice. Something needed to be done and soon.

“Do not get involved,” advised Ehtewen, who could read Cothion better than most.

“I am already involved. I must do something to help. You know I cannot sit idly by and watch my people being hurt.”

“And you know more than most the value of patience. Would you blindingly spring a trap if this were battle?”

“No, of course not, but …”

“Do not argue, Commander. We are in the midst of battle and we cannot have you rashly involved and lose you as well.”

“We have not lost Mistress either,” said Cothion sharply.

“And we will not. I will protect her; that is what I do. You are needed to command our forces. That is what you should concentrate on. Mistress can take care of herself; you know that. There are other, bigger things for you to worry about.”

“I know, but that does not make this situation any easier.”

“If life were easy, it would not be worth living.”

Cothion relented. “I will drop the matter – for now.”

Ehtewen nodded, knowing that this was the best she would get out of Cothion. When he thought he was needed, he would forge ahead and she would not be able to stop him. She could only manoeuvre him so much, and in the interim hope that Rhinure would be able to gather herself together in time, before such intervention became necessary. Cothion unleashed would be deadly – and not necessarily only for the Wood-elves.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Rhinure sighed as she put down the last letter from Túrgwaith. The old elf was not telling her something. She could almost taste the deception in the ink. But what was he hiding? On even the best of days, the First Advisor did not tell her everything, firmly believing that the Sacrifice should only be involved when absolutely necessary. If Túrgwaith has his way, she would only be told of the Lost Ones when they came marching through Tirnen. 

Rhinure shook her head, wondering if Sarniel had to deal with such issues as well. Probably not, Rhinure had difficulty imagining anyone denying Sarniel anything. Her mother has been a force nature in front of whom even Túrgwaith had to bow. Rhinure tapped the desk in front of her, gazing out of the window to the Forest ahead but seeing not its beauty but the danger that still lurked in the shadows somewhere. Perhaps she should pay a visit to Tirnen. It was time to check in with her Spy Masters – ones that did not report in to the First Advisor – to see if any clue had turned up on the Lost Ones. Some trace that would confirm if they were behind these attacks. Some shred that would conclude that these mysterious prime movers were indeed the mythical lost clans and not some figment of the Avari’s paranoid imaginations.

But she could not, Rhinure cursed inwardly, frustration clawing at her. She was leaving with Legolas on that infernal trip by the end of next week. Too little time to go to Tirnen – at least, not without arousing Thranduil’s suspicions. Perchance there was some way she could get out of this trip – perhaps Legolas would reconsider if she asked.

But that would mean she would have to speak to him and the thought alone brought her up short. She had minimised the time she spent with him over the last few days, talking to him only when necessary and always in public, preferring to give her attention to her Avari who wanted it. In her preoccupation with Legolas she had let her people flounder and she was not about to make the same mistake again. She would never leave them so rudderless that they floundered.

Rhinure tried hard and found it relatively easy to keep herself occupied during the day but at night it became impossible not to think of him. When she should be resting, she found her thoughts going back to him and their predicament but no matter how long and how hard she thought and planned, she could find no way out of this bind. She was always unfailingly polite and helpful for she had an example to set but the tension was taking a toll on her. Her face had paled even further and was looking almost gaunt. She was always slender but when she looked at herself she could only see bones and no curves which would tempt a man. No wonder that Legolas could not stand to look at her, let alone want her in his bed.

Rhinure sucked in her breath sharply pushing that painful awareness down. She would not think of the intimacy she no longer shared with Legolas. There was no time and no energy left to regret what was pleasant, but ultimately fleeting. And if she kept telling herself that, then perhaps she would not spend half the night tossing in her lonely bed knowing that only a wall separated Legolas from her. She would not wonder if perhaps he too missed holding her, making love to her. And perhaps most of all, she would not wait with bated breath for footsteps which never came.

Rhinure swallowed against the painful lump lodged in her throat. She had to look at the bright side of things; there was always hope.  At least, Legolas has not taken a bed mate into his bed – yet.

Rhinure looked at her pale hands gripping the edge of the table tightly. They were ungentle hands, more used to wielding a blade then caressing, pleasuring.

Enough! Rhinure admonished herself sternly. She would not let herself wallow in self pity – she would not let anyone, not even Legolas, destroy her sense of self-worth. She had fought hard for it, sacrificed much and she knew, intellectually, that she was a worthy person. She had Honour. If emotionally she could not accept that, then she had to learn to ignore what she felt. She was a strong elf – she could and she would. No one would doubt her Honour, not even herself. She would find a solution, somehow. And the first thing she needed to do was find out what was happening in Tirnen and then speak to Legolas about giving her time away from him.

Rhinure took a deep breath, trying to purge emotions from her thoughts. Even when alone she found it difficult to let herself go, even if she missed Legolas so fiercely that she ached with it every time a stray glance fell on him.

“Nothing is ever that bad, child.” Thranduil’s voice cut through the oppressive silence, breaking through Rhinure’s thoughts so abruptly that she could only blink foolishly up at the King. “What is the matter, child?” Thranduil asked gently, concerned at Rhinure’s pallor. 

“I am no child, my Lord,” Rhinure muttered distractedly, wondering how he had managed to sneak up on her without any warning from her guards.

“To me you are.” Thranduil stepped into the room, signalling Ehtewen and Istion to leave. The Avari hesitated for a brave moment before bowing to Thranduil’s glare. 

“They are my guards; you should not order them about so,” Rhinure protested, anger clearing her mind enough that she had the presence of mind to stuff Túrgwaith’s letter back into her writing desk before Thranduil could see it.

“You are right, I should not,” Thranduil agreed amicably, noting Rhinure’s actions but choosing not to say anything. The child was at the end of her tether as it was and he did not want to spook her further.

Rhinure blinked, nonplussed at Thranduil’s easy capitulation.

“Were you looking for an argument, sell nîn?”                           (My daughter)

Rhinure shook her head instinctively under Thranduil’s questioning, slightly challenging glance, reminding him of Legolas as an elfling trying to wriggle out of a tough spot.

“I would never argue … much,” Rhinure was forced to add as Thranduil’s eyebrow went up. “Why are you here, my Lord?” she asked hurriedly, knowing herself to be at a disadvantage and not liking it one bit. What was the King up to?

“You have not been to see me in a while so I thought I would pay you a visit myself,” said Thranduil simply.

“But I have sent you reports about everything relevant.”

“Yes and they have proved most accurate as usual. The Avari make excellent scouts.”

“As we have done for you for an Age.”

“I have never had any complaints about letting the Avari into the Forest. You have responded admirably when I have called.”

“Then … my Lord, why are you here?” Rhinure asked again, getting more confused by the minute.

“Must you only come when I call you?” Thranduil asked gently.

“That is what you and the Sacrifice … what Sarniel agreed to. That the Avari would supplement the Wood-elves as and when you deemed fit. In exchange, we would be left alone. Since the Age began that is how it has been.”

“And since then, has nothing changed? Have we not progressed?” When Rhinure remained silent, Thranduil explained, “I am your father, child. Albeit,” Thranduil raised a hand for Rhinure to be quiet, “it is by marriage alone but I am a father nonetheless.”

“I do not claim you as my father, my Lord,” Rhinure choked out. Why must these elves plague her so?

“But I claim you,” Thranduil responded implacably. “You are a part of my family – my son’s wife – and I will not have you hide from me – from us.”

Rhinure looked up into shrewd green eyes, which silently told her that Thranduil was well aware of what she has been doing over the last week. 

“You have always hidden from us, waited until we have called but you must learn that we will not always come looking. Sometimes you must extend your hand to us too.”

“And if we do not want to?”

“Then you should not have accepted my proposal of marriage, Rhinure. I have given you my son; do not waste that opportunity.”

Rhinure swallowed, but bravely held her ground. “I am not wasting anything.”

“Then you lie to yourself as well as to me.”

“You call yourself my father in one breath and then attack me the in the next. Who is the liar here, my Lord?”

“I do not know what you think fathers are like, but I do not pander to my children’s mistakes.”

Rhinure turned away, unintentionally wounded by that retort. “You are correct. I do not know what fathers are like. I never had one.” 

Thranduil frowned, “But …”

“My sire left Tirnen before I was born and returned but intermittently, long enough to conceive me but hardly long enough to watch me grow or teach me. I had no father,” Rhinure finished flatly.

“But you do now,” said Thranduil firmly, causing Rhinure to gasp in disbelief.

“I do not want this.”

Thranduil smiled, getting up from his seat and walking towards Rhinure. “Yes, you do. I know what it feels like to have no father – you want this.”

“You have no right to tell me what I feel.”

“Yes, I do. I am your father now.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I think you need this.”

“You do not know what you do. This is wrong.” Rhinure shook her head, denying what Thranduil offered. The King was as stubborn as his son.

“Probably not,” Thranduil agreed, offering Rhinure his arm but she shrunk away from him as if he was trying to strike her. This was definitely going to complicate matters between them. Thranduil had originally just planned to speak to Rhinure about Legolas, about the mess they were both creating, but seeing her sitting there so alone, in so much pain had wrung his heart. She was family and by his choice more than anyone else’s. It was his responsibility to make sure she was well and happy. And if her happiness conflicted with his duties as a King, he would worry about it later. Right now his instincts told him that this was the right thing to do and Thranduil had learnt over the years to listen to his feelings. This would help Rhinure – and through her, it would help Legolas. Thranduil would do anything for his son.

“You do this for Legolas. Let us not pretend otherwise, my Lord.” Rhinure stood up and walked towards the window, trying to put some distance between herself and the older elf.

“Partly.” Thranduil carefully put a hand of her shoulder but she stiffened and tried to pull away. His grip tightened and he folded her hand into the crook of his arm and firmly held her hand in his. “But only partly. You are important too.”

“You are doing this to confuse me,” Rhinure accused.

“And how would I do that, child?”

“You are hoping to change my allegiance by binding me to you.”

 *~ Very good, my child. Very quick. ~*

“You are already bound to me through my son, or have you forgotten that?”

Rhinure stopped pulling, realising that Thranduil would not let go and her strength was not great enough to force him.

“Have you forgotten?”

“No.”

“Then why would I need to bind you further?”

Rhinure raised deliberately disbelieving eyes to Thranduil, both sharing a moment of complete harmony and understanding. Both rulers knew that Thranduil could and would improve his odds in this duel, even if it meant adopting the Avari Sacrifice. The obligations of a child to a parent were great.

*~ And those of a parent to a child? ~* Rhinure mused, briefly allowing herself to calmly think of Thranduil’s offer. If marrying Legolas created a tie, then would not claiming Thranduil as father do the same? Would not a direct tie to the King be better than one through the Prince?

Thranduil watched as Rhinure’s eyes looked at him speculatively. Gone was that wounded look and back was the assessing coldness of the Sacrifice. She was thinking of what he had offered – but he could not help regretting that it was not the ellethwho did so but the ruler. Still, ties worked both ways and their power depended on who was bound by them. Would Rhinure realise this before committing herself to the King of Eryn Lasgalen? Would she be as rash as she was when she married Legolas?

Thranduil hoped so – as King and as the father he offered to be for Rhinure. He wanted this stubborn, but unique girl in his family. He wanted the opportunity to make his son happy and Thranduil knew, now, that no matter what happened Legolas’ happiness depended on this little slip of a girl.

“Decide quickly, my Lady. The offer might be withdrawn if you do not hurry,” prodded the King. Rhinure jerked back as if struck and Thranduil knew he had said the wrong thing.

“You would offer to be my father and then withdraw it so casually?” whispered Rhinure.

“No … I did not mean that,” said Thranduil, appalled at the bleakness he saw in Rhinure’s eyes. They reminded him of his own as he held the lifeless body of Oropher in his arms.

“You have already taken one father from me – now you want to do the same again, is that it?” wondered Rhinure. 

“Explain.”

“Barion was my father.”

Thranduil frowned, “He was …”

“Arandur’s predecessor in the Realm.”

Comprehension dawned on Thranduil. “He was the Avari your Sacrifice sent when we first agreed upon the pact.”

“He was the husband my mother sacrificed to the Clan.”

“I did not know.”

Rhinure continued as if Thranduil had not spoken. “He was the elf who died saving your wife.”

“And for that I remain eternally grateful to him.”

“Grateful enough to be a replacement to his daughter?”

“I did not know you were Barion’s daughter,” Thranduil repeated carefully, making sure Rhinure was listening. 

Rhinure glanced at the King cynically. “Is it not ironic that you offer to me now, what you took away so many years ago?”

“I did not ask your Sacrifice to send her own husband.”

“You asked that an Avari be sent to serve you.”

“So that I might learn about your people.”

“So that you might have surety about us,” Rhinure responded.

Thranduil sighed, “You will believe what you will, but it was never my intention to keep your father away from you.”

“What did you expect when you had him serve you for Life? If not my father then it would have been someone else’s. You kept an Avari from his people.”

“He swore the Oath of his own free accord. I did not ask him to.”

“As you did not ask Arandur?” Rhinure asked softly.

Thranduil paused, not sure how to answer that question without lying. “I would have let him go if he had not sworn the oath.”

“Would you have let him stay?” When Thranduil did not answer, Rhinure continued, “Barion chose to go because he could not ask any Avari to do what he would not do himself and neither would Sarniel. So she did what she could – she asked her Bonded to leave her and the children they would have to keep someone else’s parents safe.”

“And you blame me for this.”

“I hold you responsible. You were – are – the King.”

“And what of your mother’s responsibility?”

“That is why I have no mother. What kind of mother puts the welfare of her child last?”

“Someone who puts the needs of the many first,” countered Thranduil.

“Then she should not have had me.”

“Ah child, what has been done to you that you begrudge life so?”

“What has been done has been done by you and now you offer to do it all over again.”

Thranduil tilted her chin up so that she was forced to look at him. “I will not leave you, child.”

“You cannot promise that. Like Sarniel, you cannot put me first.” Rhinure shook her head, freeing herself from Thranduil’s grip. “You cannot put Legolas first so how can you truthfully promise me anything else?” She squared her shoulders proudly, “And I will not accept anything less – I will not be second best.”

Thranduil smiled at Rhinure with something approaching paternal pride, knowing her to be more his daughter than she realised. “Well said, my Lady. In the interim, may I suggest we find a less contentious relationship then.”

Rhinure turned around. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let us see if we can work it out; what I said earlier is still true. We will not let you hide from Us any longer.” Thranduil straightened and became the King. “If we cannot be family then we will be allies still.” In the true sense of the word, he added silently.

“We already are.”

“There is always room for improvement,” Thranduil said dryly offering Rhinure his arm once more, which she took this time. “If you would accompany me, I have things I wish to discuss with you.”

“As the King commands.”

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