Chapter 3 – The Feast

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mistress?”

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

“Yes, Commander?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lord Cothion – King Thranduil.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Commander, attend to me.”

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

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

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

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

“Let it be, Legolas.”

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

 “Let it be. This is not the time.”

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

Thranduil, too, ruled because he would be obeyed. 

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“They are different, are they not?”

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

“More of a statement of fact.”

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

“Yes they are. Perhaps too different.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you wish we were?”

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

“It matters if you wish we were.”

“To whom?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And we are quendi no longer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

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

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

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

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

“I was not particularly hungry.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Unfortunately, I am not.”

“Is anything wrong, little one?”

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

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

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

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

“I do not dance,” she said chillingly.

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

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

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

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

Rhinure stiffened, “I am not the Queen.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Never, my Lord.”

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

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

“And what of what she had taken?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is my concern, not yours.”

“So she did hurt you. How?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not tell him if it changes nothing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do not need your pity.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You do not know what you offer.”

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

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

 Morion’s face flashed before her eyes.

It would be like having Morion back.

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

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does my Lord want of me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

“That was silly of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

*~ Like all other rewards you promise. ~*

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

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You seem distracted tonight, my Lord.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I will make one suggestion.”

“Please do, my Lord.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will he hurt her?” asked Ehtewen.

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

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

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