Author's Note: I needed to RE-upload and change Chapter 1 because this one came first chronologically! So enjoy the new chapter 1, everyone. :O)

The flakes of white were cascading down, the thick blanket of snow on the ground growing deeper. It was quite a blizzard, and the horses needed to choose their way with care as the wind was blowing steadily, causing deepening drifts. More than once Thranduil had noticed one of the horses stumbling into a pocket unseen, forcing rider and mount to catch themselves. He watched the thick flakes gather in Maltan's fair mane and along his golden ears. The palomino shook his head once, and that drew Thranduil's gaze to the other horses before and around him.

Despite the darkening twilight, he could see his people clearly. They had spent little more than two months shoring up the Easterlings for winter and preparing them to begin rebuilding near the Sea of Rhûn. It was time well spent, and the Gondorians who remained were well-established. Many of his own people had also stayed, knowing that more supplies and aid would come when the weather broke in the spring, which was soon to come. Winter had come early and it appeared that it might cling to the North as it had not in many years. But he could see his people were glad to be heading for home; they had been following the Celduin for many days now and had branched off to follow the Forest River for most of the day today. They were nearly within the borders of his Kingdom.

Perhaps I should be thinking that it is time to find some shelter until morning…

It was light laughter that distracted him from his musings of shelter and made him attentive to a pair of riders a little off from the main group. The shock of red hair he recognized immediately, but the laughter was Erumar's. He observed her tossing her mane of dark hair, a grin on her face as flakes tumbled from it and more flakes tumbled into it from the sky. In a sea of his fair-haired kin, the two of them were glaringly obvious, different, though Erumar more so than Tauriel. Tauriel belonged to these lands in a way that he could never have explained, never expressed. But Erumar…she was a breath of fresh air in the twilight of the winter storm.

Her grey-blue cloak flowed over her shoulders and over Rûnving's chestnut flanks, and he could not help himself for once more thinking that she was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. There was no denying what he felt when he was around her. She made him feel alive, awake…for the first time in an uncountable amount of it. Even to be here, simply watching her, taking in the moment of her gentle laugh with Tauriel, was a privilege. He was grateful to be a simple witness. These past three months at least had been full of doing for her and had left less time for thinking and dwelling. This had been very good as what had come before required the passage of time for healing. She still blamed herself; at times, he could see it, but there was nothing that would heal that wound but time…ah, time. He knew all too well about the supposed healing of time.

He shrugged a half-inch of snow from this shoulders and heard the rapid crunch of another's mount catching up beside him. He turned to see one of his lieutenants, Eldarn, riding alongside him on his tall grey. Eldarn had taken up Fânrim's position, as the other lieutenant had agreed to stay and become captain and director of supplies to negotiate among the Easterlings. He was grateful for this, as he had always found Eldarn to be of stable mind and character, though the loss of Fânrim's wisdom was a blow. He always had to come back to the encouraging thought that at least Tauriel remained…which was more of a blessed relief than he cared to admit to himself.

Eldarn reached down and brushed snow from the grey's dark mane. "I do not think I have seen so much snow at one time in all the ages I have lived, my Lord," he said, admiring the falling flakes.

"No," Thranduil agreed, "not in many years, and even so it was outside of our realm. There is much to be said about such a blizzard."

"It is beautiful."

Thranduil was silent as he pondered that for a moment. What did he think of the snow? Normally, whenever he saw it, his thoughts came to dwell upon his long-dead wife for it was her namesake. Most things that made him think of her he did not like, but…his good memories of it were slowly making their way back to him. He had lived many years and had experienced much snow; he should have had many fond memories of it. He found that when he could focus on something other than the loss, he could see the memories more clearly.

"Indeed, it is. When the sky clears and the snow ends," Thranduil added, "the trees will have more beauty than they do now, and you shall be able to see hundreds of them with clarity." He smiled. "That is where the true beauty lies. Inches of snow clinging to the edges of branches, glittering in the sunlight."

"I look forward to seeing it."

Up ahead of them, snow tumbled unexpectedly from an over weighted branch, dropping directly between Erumar and Tauriel. Rûnving half-spun in surprise, where Tauriel's buckskin remained steadfast as the two women laughed, Erumar leaning forward to stroke the sorrel's neck. Thranduil watched her handle herself and then returned his attention to Eldarn.

"I was thinking that perhaps it might be good for the horses to take some shelter. At least until the wind dies down."

"We are not far from the borders," Eldarn said, and his brow furrowed as he thought. "I do not know where we might—"

"I am sure that we can find a hospitable copse of trees," Thranduil replied with a smile. "Perhaps we should spread out a bit and see what we can find?"

Eldarn nodded. "Perhaps we shall find a cave that shall fit all of our horses."

Thranduil shook his head. "I do not think we could enter a cave so large without something inhospitable trying to eat us."

"What an adventure that would be," the elf replied with a laugh. "I think I shall pass, but I shall tell the others what to look for." He began to turn aside but then Thranduil remembered.

"Eldarn!" he called, and the man pulled up the grey. "There is an old guard shelter here, somewhere if we can find it…just outside the borders of Lasgalen, if I am not mistaken. It has been a great many years since I have had reason to locate it. Perhaps we can find shelter there if it still stands."

"Large enough for the horses?"

"It had a stable. It was large enough for a small contingent then, and that is all we are."

Eldarn nodded, though he looked doubtful. "Hopefully, we shall be able to see it as we are riding. If this blizzard would let up for a moment or two, we might."

"Tell the others to keep their eyes sharp."

Then, Eldarn did turn away, and Thranduil began more purposefully scanning about for the building he was remembering. They needed to give the horses a rest, and being within the warmth and dry of a shelter would be better for all.

The trouble, of course, was that every few seconds he was distracted by the laughter of the two women who rode before him, and he could not help but wonder what confidences they were sharing.

Tauriel grinned to herself as Erumar laughed aloud.

"Oh come now!" Erumar laughed with tears in her eyes. "You are too serious to have done anything of the kind!"

"You do not know me well enough yet, Erumar," Tauriel replied, raising her eyebrows.

"I know you better than you think," she stated. "There is not a drop of silliness in that mind, Tauriel." She smiled at her and raised her own eyebrows. "I have been told that I am an excellent judge of character, and I believe I have a good read on you."

Tauriel rolled her eyes. "Well, perhaps I exaggerate a little. Perhaps I did not cover his entire room with snow, but…I did carry in an entire bucket-load and dump it all over him. I promise you, that part is not exaggerated!"

Erumar laughed again. "I bet he loved every minute of it."

"Well, not at first," she admitted. "Legolas was still asleep, and was quite furious until he chased me outside and realized that it was beautiful and that he needed to enjoy it."

"How old were you? You must have been young." She laughed softly again. "You are still young."

Tauriel looked down, snow catching on her eyelashes as Erumar studied her face. "I was young, but not as you may think. I was old enough to be reprimanded, and old enough to know better, and certainly old enough to not entice someone to play in the snow, but…" A little smile came on her face. "He did play in the snow…for a little while. We made some sort of snow creature that I remember well."

"Legolas is quite playful," Erumar teased. "I can only imagine that he could have played for hours."

Looking over into her face, Tauriel smiled wistfully. "I did not know the same Legolas that you have come to know, Erumar; that you lived with for three years. Legolas was at times playful, but it seems that meeting Enguina has brought him more life than he had ever known when I knew him. There were moments when I had…tried to bring that out in him…" She shook her head as her words faltered. Erumar gave her a knowing look.

"But you were discouraged."

Tauriel blushed and looked away again, off into the darkening sky filled with whirring flakes. "I would not say anything against my Lord," she said softly. "He is different now also…and both are for the better, changed for the better. Legolas by Enguina…and…my King, well…the change has been more gradual for him, though his trip south brought it more quickly."

Erumar nodded slowly, thinking, watching the much younger elf. It was clear that there were years that weighed heavily on her. "How long have you…" she hesitated for a few seconds. Perhaps it was not her place, but she and Tauriel had become friends and she should be able to talk with her frankly. "How long have you been living to please him?"

Shock cut across Tauriel's face, yet she could not bear to look into Erumar's. "Leave it to you," she murmured, "to pierce to the heart of the matter."

Erumar reached out and brushed her arm with her fingertips. "Please forgive me," she said immediately. "I know you care for him immensely. Perhaps even more than you know. I can imagine that he was not an easy person to live with."

"You have no idea," she said, her voice still hushed. "There…is nothing that I would not do for him…or his son. I rebelled once…twice…both times with terrible consequences." Erumar watched her eyes close as she breathed in once and exhaled slowly, a long quiet sigh. "Things were hard, difficult. Now, more recently, things have been better."

"You have grown close."

"Closer than we have ever been," she admitted, "and still we are learning…I am learning."

"You are like a daughter to him."

"That was not a question."

"No," Erumar agreed. "I know it is true. Sometimes, as parents, we are afraid to allow our children to make decisions of their own that will cause them to fall, fail. Sometimes it is because we know how it will turn out; sometimes it is because we fear how it will turn out. Because of this, we can make choices to be sterner in areas where we should show more kindness, more freedom, more compassion."

"You speak from experience."

"I raised four children, two sons, two daughters," she said. "Sometimes, my husband and I had arguments over such things. Your parents died when you were young, and Thranduil had been on his own for many years by the time you came along. Yes, I am sure none of it was easy." She frowned. "But I am sorry that this has been your experience."

"I am grateful," she disagreed kindly, her voice still soft. "He has helped shape who I am; I can be nothing but grateful. And my separation from Legolas has helped him to meet someone for whom he cares very deeply. For that, I am even more grateful."

"Yet, you miss him. He was your closest friend for many years."

Tauriel nodded. "I do miss him, but he has been…he has been gone for some time." She tried to smile at Erumar. "It is not as though it was yesterday that he left. He was gone for many years and then returned for a little while…then he traveled again and returned for a brief time, and then again. I have learned to be…more independent." She tried to make that sound positive. She was not in love with Legolas, but she did miss his company in so many ways.

Erumar returned her sad smile. "Well…I hope I can bring you some company."

This made Tauriel's smile true, and she reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You already have been. I am grateful for that, too."

"I have learned that being alone and independent is not always ideal…and not always healthy."

Tauriel nodded. "I have felt the same, though I could not help it. Many times, I wanted to be alone, and the King was often alone as well. Yet, now he has you visiting with us. His people are glad you are here, and those in Lasgalen are looking forward to your coming as well." She looked over at her again. "Do you think that Legolas will come and visit us again someday? Bring his babe with him, his wife? I know that is something that would greatly please the King."

"Oh, I think he certainly will. There is no doubt that he will make the journey though I do not know when, and Enguina would be thrilled to meet you. From what I had seen during the time we were all together, Legolas and his father were getting along splendidly, nothing as it once had been."

"I have not portrayed him as I should," Tauriel said, seeming suddenly embarrassed by her part in the conversation. "I do not wish to give a false impression of my Lord Thranduil."

Erumar laughed. "Oh Tauriel, there is nothing you have said that I had not already suspected."

"I do not wish to…" she hesitated, and then decided she had best not speak aloud. She did not want to tell Erumar something that would make her want to leave, that might turn her gaze from him but perhaps those words were best left unspoken. "Do not listen to me, Erumar. You are a good friend for him," she said, turning her face away again. "You lighten the load he has borne all these years."

"I have found," she replied softly, "that he does the same for mine. Yes, that is why I am here, Tauriel. To see Lasgalen, to spend time among my own people again. It has been…too long. And that is not even a hundredth of the time he has spent carrying the weight he has."

"Lothlórien has long been without light and song, so the tale goes. Have you been missing it?" Erumar lowered her chin for a moment against a particularly fierce gust of wind which blew snow into both of their faces, and so for a moment could not answer. It was quite a wind, and Tauriel was surprised to find that in the back of her mind, she yearned for a fire. She reached down to rub the thick shaggy hair on her gelding, Gliranor's, neck. "It is quite chilly out here, my steady friend," she told him.

"Ooo," Erumar agreed, "quite." She shook her heavy mane of hair again, snowflakes dumping out of it. "It would be nice to be inside, even if it is beautiful."

"I was thinking about fire a moment ago."

"Now that would be wonderful, even if I am not cold. Though I suppose it would be easier not to talk about fire…"

"Well then let us return to my question," reminded Tauriel with a laugh. "Have you been missing Lórien?"

"I reminisce about it from time to time, what it used to be," she replied. "I miss the woods and all of the beautiful light. But…I think there were too many memories there, and it became so weighed down in memory that I…" she hesitated. "That my heart simply could no longer take the burden of it. I was always so sad, so heartsick…but part of me could not leave." She looked over to Tauriel, whose face was solemn. "Now part of me never wishes to return. Can you understand?"

"Yes."

"But I also could not go to the Grey Havens, not after discovering that Enguina was getting married. I could not leave without attending the wedding, and then we were invited to remain with them and help build their home…and one thing led to another."

"And your heart is not as full of weight as it once was."

"There are moments."

Tauriel nodded. "Yes, I know that feeling."

Rûnving and Gliranor both halted with such immediacy, their ears pricked forward, that it jarred both of their riders to the pommels in surprise. Eldarn suddenly appeared in front of them out of the blowing snow, barely visible as he waved to them.

"Captain, my Lady, we have found a place that we are going to halt for a few hours. The King has found a hiding place for us just off to our right." Tauriel turned and looked, just as Erumar did, and noticed there was no one behind them.

"Did we get ahead of all of you?" questioned Tauriel, concerned. "Were we very far off the path?"

"Not very far," Eldarn admitted, "though you were straying a bit. I did not mean to startle you, but I believe that is why you did not hear us when I called."

Erumar shook her head, laughing. "Lead on, Eldarn. I am glad we have you around to bring us back."

He smiled. "Come this way. It is not much, but it will make everyone and the horses dry and out of this intense snow for some time."

The fire was beginning to burn low, but Erumar did not want to turn in with the others quite yet. They had all finally begun to take some rest a little more than an hour before. Upon finding the shelter, the evening had been filled with tales and songs, and it had been good this night to be taking the time to enjoy the last leg of their journey. They were a wonderful group of elves, she would even say friends after spending so much time with them, and the food and company had been good.

Now, as she was looking into the short flames, she was glad. Their mats were scattered about, Tauriel's closest to her and nearest the fire, her red hair shining even more brightly in the reflection of the flames. Erumar studied her, thinking of their conversation from earlier. It seemed there was no person alive that she knew that did not carry a burden of some kind. She wished, as she looked at the young elf before her, that Tauriel was innocent and carefree, that she had no secrets to run from, that her parents had not been murdered when she had been so young, that she had not carried the weight of Thranduil's dead wife all these years, that she had not carried the burden of love that could never be returned. And she wished for her, prayed for her, in that moment that Tauriel would be blessed someday with love as Aragorn held for Arwen, as Legolas held for Enguina—oh, how she prayed for it. She deserved better.

When she lifted her head from her silent prayer, her sharp eyes noticed that Tauriel's shoulders were trembling. Concerned, she leaned over beside her, studying her more closely; even the young elf's hands were visibly shaking. Was she cold? Was she having a dream? Erumar could not be sure, but she did not feel like waking her. Instead, she took the woven blanket that laid across her own lap and knelt down beside her. She opened it up and carefully laid it over her, covering Tauriel's shoulders, hands, and upper body with it, gently shifting the top until it sheltered her so that if it was that the elf was cold, she would be toasty beneath it. Then, thinking that it would be good to keep it warm within the shelter, she laid another log into the fire, watching it flare up once again and the fire begin to grow.

Lifting her gaze from her position on her knees, she saw a shadow near the opening where the door to the shelter had once been. Broad shoulders, tall…she knew that it was Thranduil, and realized that she could not remember when he had left the circle that the elves had made around the fire, but it had been more than an hour or so ago. She wondered what he was up to, or if he had simply been craving solitude—that she could understand at times. She was growing drowsy in the firelight, and perhaps it was because she was nearly ready for sleep that she did not wish to rest without wishing him good rest.

Returning her gaze to Tauriel, she noticed that the shoulders beneath the blanket were no longer shaking. With a smile, she reached out and stroked her fingers gently along her forehead and down her cheek. She rose silently and, slipping around two mats with sleeping elves upon them, made her way to the silhouette in the entryway.

Thranduil was facing outward, studying the night, snow still falling fast, several more inches on the ground since last she had looked. His piercing eyes seemed to be studying where the horses stood within their shelter, all of them resting and asleep, warm in the rundown building. She took a place next to him, but she did not study the snow or the horses as he seemed to be doing. Instead, she admired him for a moment, standing so still and quiet, handsome in his long cloak. She opened her mouth to speak, to greet him, to say something, but he turned his head slowly to look over and down at her, his eyes kind and the edges of his lips turned up into the beginnings of a smile.

"You are a mother," he said softly, "even when the child is not your own."

She smiled back at him; he had obviously seen her covering Tauriel. "We all need a mother sometimes. But yes, I often find myself, as the oldest of my friends, slipping into that role all too often. Mostly by accident."

"You must have been an excellent one," he told her seriously. "I can imagine that your children are all wonderful, good people."

"They were," she admitted, "but that was not all of my doing. Ilúvatar was good to us, and I never had to worry for them doing something that was not 'good.'"

He smiled. "And Tauriel can no longer claim to be the youngest."

"No," Erumar laughed. "No, that is true. The babe must have been born by now. Congratulations, Adariar."

His eyebrows rose and he gave a sigh. "I have never given thought to being called by that name."

Erumar smiled. "Now you can give it lots of thought. I have been thinking about them; many times over the past days I have sent silent prayers for them…for all of them. That things are well, that they are all safe and sound."

"Perhaps there will be tidings waiting for us in Lasgalen when we arrive," he replied hopefully.

"I hope her labor was easy."

Thranduil shook his head. "Are these things ever easy? In my experience, no. I am sure that Legolas was a disaster no matter what."

She laughed softly. "Oh, I do hope he was there for it. I left before he had returned to Minas Tirith, and Enguina was concerned every day that he was not going to arrive in time."

"He had journeyed without her?"

"To visit Gimli."

"Ah," he said, nodding, "of course. Well, Uncle Gimli weighed him down with toys and many gifts for the babe, I am sure. Dwarves are known for such things. Perhaps I will have to send something as well, when I am able, as a present from his 'Adariar,' as you say." He avoided speculating whether Elessar had healed, whether the Evenstar was well, avoided any subject connected with Elessar altogether; she need not be thinking of that all night long—as it was she thought of it enough, he was sure. He had been annoyed with Tauriel when he had found out that Elessar had vanished into the night, but she had stated her reasons for helping him depart. She could not very well stand in the way of love. As irritated as he was, he could not argue with that.

"She spoke of you earlier." Erumar's voice came from beside him. He glanced back down into her face.

"Hmm? Who?"

"Tauriel." It seemed Erumar was reading his mind if she was thinking about Tauriel as well.

"Oh." He nodded slowly. "I am certain that all of it was terrible."

"You would be wrong."

He smiled. "She has far too much grace for me then."

"Oh, that is undoubtedly true. But she was honest," Erumar said, laying a hand on his arm.

He sighed. "Then it was not good. In the past, I have been a complete ogre," he said, looking down at her hand. "I should be ashamed of myself. I am ashamed of myself." He admitted the last. "I have been trying to make it up to her. Change is…not easy. She deserved, deserves better."

"She does not blame you, you know," she told him gently. "She probably understands more than you think."

"Oh, I know she does," he said with a humorless laugh. "And that is why I do not deserve her. Not even the way she honors me, respects me—"

"Loves you."

"Even so," he said. "She has lost enough herself, but I was blind to everything for so long, I…forgot everything about everyone except myself. I have been working hard to change it. But even in her understanding, she remembers how much I have hurt her. One should not forgive so…so much wrong, Erumar, over so long. But I can spend the rest of my life making it right if I choose to become that man."

"Yes, you can," she told him earnestly. "We all change."

He smiled at her. "Indeed we do." He tilted his head in the direction of the snow. "On to a much more serious subject: how are you enjoying the blizzard?"

"It snowed us in enough for us to make a fire," she said, acknowledging his changing of the subject with ease. "The fire was very pleasant."

"That does not tell me anything about your love or hate of snow," he chuckled. "I was probing for information and you have ruined my sport. I suppose I should assume that it leans toward hate."

"Oh," she said, blushing at his incredible honesty, "no! Not at all! I think it is beautiful! Now, in the evening even more so." Her eyes shot up to the sky as she waved a hand towards it. "And the sky has cleared, the stars are stunning."

"Yes, it is beautiful tonight. It makes the snow shimmer. It was once my favorite time…because she loved it." He said the last softly, knowing that Erumar would understand to whom he was referring as he reflected on why he had enjoyed winter so much, and why he had not enjoyed it in many years. "I have never looked at snow the same way again."

Erumar thought about the snow as he spoke. She had only good memories of it, as most of the time when it was on the ground she remembered her children playing in it. Her memories of Haldir were kept at bay by the fact that he did not feature in the snow memories—he had never enjoyed the snow, being wet, and had never been considered 'playful.' He was nothing like Enguina, who had always loved such things and who had always helped her with her children when they were young and played with them.

"Snow is usually a safe thing for me to think of," Erumar admitted. "We never were able to spend much time in it."

"No," Thranduil agreed, "I do not imagine Lórien had much snow; at least not with the Lady present. You must have gone to the borders to have seen some."

"In Rivendell, we were able to enjoy it, when I was younger and Arwen and I could build things with her brothers—even though they were older than we were, and I was older than her. Even there, it was a more moderate clime." She studied him a moment, and he looked at her in her silence. "Is that what has made you melancholy tonight? Why you did not remain around the fire?"

"I was thinking of her," he admitted. "But that was not why I left the fire and came out here. I came because I wanted to think."

"Should I leave you to it, then?"

He shook his head. "No, my dear," he laughed. "I have thought long enough. Walk with me, instead? Where we can see the stars better?" He offered her his arm, and the two of them walked out on the snow, stopping in the midst of the snowfall to look up into the night sky. Erumar stared up, closing her eyes for a moment as she laughed at the flakes landing on her face. But then she opened them to watch the snow fall among the moon and starlight and sighed, enjoying the moment.

"Yes…this is beautiful," she heard him whisper.

Thranduil was not even looking up at it, transfixed as he was by the sight created by the perfect flakes catching in her raven hair. She did not see him staring at her, or if she did she gave no sign, so she could not see the conflict behind his eyes. He had been thinking so hard about Glosvana tonight, moments they had shared in the dark of night, in the snowfall, in the wee hours of the morning when he had taken her in his arms on a blanket before Legolas was born and loved her until they had no strength left. He was not wrong to be thinking of Erumar, to be drawn to her, to be thinking her lovely, to find her presence soothing; he knew it was not wrong, but it yet made him feel that the memories and this newfound friendship should be separate. He remained at war with himself. Turning his gaze up, he stared into the night sky as she was.

"Yes, it surely is," he agreed again. "Is your preference for the warmth of the fire? Or the beauty of the snow?"

Erumar was silent, thinking, as she turned her head to study him, looking at the little smile on his face. She could tell that he was probing for information again. "I think it is the snow. Fire can be calming, but the snow…there is something peaceful about the flakes striking the branches, the snow falling from the sky, almost like stars. And the way that things melt and come back to life. A new beginning, new birth, new life. Those things I look forward to when winter is drawing to a close."

"Yes," he said. "All of those things are true." He lifted a hand and gently laid it over the one on his arm, and suddenly his hand was wrapped around hers and he was tugging her to face him.

She saw the alarm on his face and her heart stuttered. "What is it, Thranduil?"

"Your hand is like ice," he said, concern written all over him as he cupped her hand in his large ones, trying to warm it. "Your fingers are stiff, almost frozen."

"Are they?" she asked softly, and she looked down at his hands covering hers, brought close to his chest as he rubbed her fingers. She lifted the other hand and studied them for a moment, surprised to find it difficult to flex them. "I had no idea," she murmured as he reached out and took her other hand in his and brought that one to his heart as well.

"No idea? They are stiff from cold. We should go in by the fire," he added, worried, "and warm them before you have frostbite." He began to take a step, but he was tugged to a stop when she did not move as he was.

"No, Thranduil," she countered, "I do not want to go inside just yet."

"Not—? What do you mean?"

Erumar shook her head. "I do not want to go inside to the fire. It is too beautiful out here."

"Erumar, your hands—"

"I will be fine." She began to pull them back to her but this time, he held fast. "Stop," she said, trying to pull again. "I do not wish to—"

"If you are to stay out here," he gently interrupted her, "then please, at least let me warm them. Erumar, they are so cold." He lifted them both to his lips, cupping them in his own and blowing warm air onto her hands as he rubbed them with her looking on, studying him. "I have no idea how you could not realize they were freezing."

"I was not paying attention to them," she said, her gaze still lingering on him trying to warm them. "I wanted to enjoy the sky, not think about being cold."

As he rubbed her fingers, he could feel the trauma on them. It was the first time he had really held her hands. He had touched them for a few seconds as he took one to draw through his arm, or felt them through his sleeve, but this was the first time he had held them in his own for any length of time. Much of the skin was too smooth, revealing old injuries of some kind. As he rubbed his thumbs along her palms and the edges of her fingers he could feel the scars from old wounds. Not for the first time, he wondered at what had happen to cause her so much pain; for these exacting wounds would certainly have been painful.

He blew into his hands cupping hers again, this time several times together, beginning to feel that they were warming to his ministrations. He eyed her casually over their joined hands, her gaze still on them. "What happened to your—"

"Thranduil, no," she whispered, her eyes meeting his as she shook her head, "that question remains out of bounds."

"Ah yes," he replied sheepishly, giving her a little smile, "I keep forgetting that I am not supposed to ask. I will try to do better. So, tell me instead about a safer subject that I am permitted to discuss. We were speaking of spring. Is spring your favorite season then? Or is winter?"

"It would be spring," she admitted, her voice still soft. "There is just so much to look forward to in spring that the snow does not hold enough of my affections." Her eyes were drawn once again to the way he was rubbing her hands and she finally, but gently, began slipping her hands from his. "They are warm enough now, thank you, Thranduil."

Clearly, he had been enjoying rubbing her hands too much, and she was self-conscious about it so he easily released her, clasping his hands behind his back. He smiled at her. "You are, of course, welcome. Perhaps we should not remain out here too much longer or your hands shall turn cold again. Though, I suppose I could simply warm them again."

She smiled. "I am sure you could." But she still did not feel like turning in to bed yet. So she said instead, "I suppose spring is also your favorite season. Especially with your garden, I mean."

"Oh, undoubtedly," he replied. "I am rather sorry that you shall not see it for several months yet, but that cannot be helped."

"But I can see it now, in winter," she said. "You surely would not have me wait all that time."

"Oh no," he said, shaking his head, "no, no, no. You shall have to wait until springtime. It would be so wrong to show you now."

She stared at him. "You are teasing me."

"No, I am quite serious. There is nothing to see if you go now. Mid-April perhaps."

He looked down at her and she raised her eyebrows at him. "You will make me live in Lasgalen for all that time and never see it?"

"My dear, it is only three months or so."

"Thranduil—"

"And what of it, even so? It will make your visit longer perhaps, hmmm?"

She rolled her eyes then, sighing exaggeratedly. "I am not going anywhere, Thranduil."

He smiled. "Good. Then you can be patient, yes?"

"Ugh. I suppose." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are frustrating."

"Oh come now, think of what you shall have to look forward to." He extended his hand for hers and he once more threaded it on to his arm as he turned her to go back towards their shelter. Her hand was cold again, and so he left his covering it.

"I do not believe that there is nothing to see," she insisted.

He laughed. "And why is that?"

"You are a master gardener," she pointed out. "You have been doing this for ages. You would never have a garden that did not have winter flowers."

He gave a long sigh. "Fine."

"What is fine?"

"You may see the garden."

"I knew it," she said triumphantly. "I knew you were not serious." She heard him laugh. They halted just inside the entrance, out of the reach of the snowflakes and she turned to face him. "What sort of flowering plants have you for winter?"

"Daphne, hellebore, holly…even witchhazel."

She raised her eyebrows. "That sounds beautiful."

"I shall take you there within the first week of your arrival in the Greenwood."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You shall promise?"

"If nothing else, I am a man of my word."

Suddenly, she smiled. "I am satisfied then."

He laughed softly. "I am glad to hear it." Behind them, Thranduil heard soft steps upon the floor, and he turned to see one of his bowmen coming up to meet them. "Good evening, Beriath."

"My Lord," he said, and then bowed his fair head to Erumar, "my Lady. It is my watch, my King. I was coming to take my post."

"Of course," Thranduil replied, extending a hand to indicate the elf should pass them. Beriath moved into the entryway, bow in hand, as Erumar and Thranduil moved further within. Thranduil clasped his hands behind his back again and smiled down at her, the red-glow of the firelight on her face again. "Well, I suppose this is good evening," he said in hushed tones, due to all of his sleeping kin. "Time to take some rest."

She smiled back at him. "Indeed. I hope you rest well." She finally said the words she had been intending to say since she first went to him. He bowed his head to her.

"And you, my dear."

He watched her as she sidled around a few mats and came back to the fire. He watched as she lovingly confirmed that Tauriel was sleeping peacefully and as she slipped another log into the fire. He watched as she sat upon her mat, pulled off her boots, and then laid down on her side, facing the firelight. He watched her a few moments longer before he prepared his own mat, and stretched out on his back, knowing that he would sleep better now than he would have had he spent the evening on his own. And fall asleep he did, his thoughts focused on imagining what her expression would be when she finally laid her eyes on his garden.