Disclaimer The brilliant genius behind the original characters and the magical realm of Mirkwood belongs to Professor Tolkien. I only borrow the setting and magnificent elves in it.

AN First! Thank you for the first review! Follows and favorites!

Okay. I am still trying to set the stage properly for the plotline. So hang in there..

I have decided on a tradition for the Silvan elves concerning their hair and braiding. It is to be noted that there are certain meanings behind each braid. Each 'braid' is a statement. There are of course a set of 'styles' connected to one 'braid', so that males and females may wear one kind of 'braid' without looking too androgynous and to allow some day-to-day diversity. So there's no confusion, each braid is explained down below.

Also, I've tried to determine Legolas's level of maturity. Please comment if he comes off as too childish/playful. He is ~400 years but Thranduil is quite protective of his son, which makes Legolas kind of oblivious to the hardships of life.. for now.

Oh, and what do you prefer: Long or short chapters?

R&R (pointers are welcome)

DustyRabbit


.oOo.

Chapter 2

.oOo.

"Good morning!"

The blonde paused in the doorway, finding not only one head, but two staring back at him. He lowered his voice substantially, drawing on as much of his charm as he could manage this early in the morning, "Ah.. I mean..A fair morning to you all, Ladies."

One head blushed and the other burst out laughing. The embarrassment finally overtook him and Legolas shrank back, his eyes shifting from one elleth to the other. Suddenly aware of his less than princely behavior. But he had not thought to find more than Lona waiting for him. It was five in the morning after all.

"Good.. Good morning, Prince Legolas," Faelwen said slowly, she could feel her face burn at the sight of him. She did not dare look straight at him, fearing that she would laugh at the prince. The sight of him was somewhat.. different from what she was used to.

"Yes, yes. A very good morning indeed, my Prince. I see you thought that leaving your room again without brushing your hair would slip the King's notice." Lona's eyes danced as they gazed at him, one hand clutched to her stomach as to hold her against her tinkling laughs.

The prince gave a somewhat indignant cry at the accusation, but pink still dusted his cheeks. "I will have you know that I had every intention of brushing it.. had I actually been able to find the brush!" He glanced quickly at Faelwen before shifting back to Lona. At least one of them was not laughing, though he had a sneaking suspicion that she was close to since the young elleth would not meet his eyes.

"Do you really think he will notice?" he asked nervously. His father was always very strict about such matters after all.

"He will definitely notice," Lona deadpanned after she finally stopped laughing. She took in the messy state of his hair. The golden strands looking like hay in a haystack. The braids messy and the normally straight strands in comical disarray. "But really, Prince Legolas, even if your brush went missing surely you have a comb?"

The elf grimaced at the word. "I hate combs. They always get stuck and it hurts like-"

"Legolas!"

"Right," he smiled sheepishly, slinking over to her. "Which is why I thought you could help me? It never hurts when you comb it."

Lona sighed. She felt like she was handling the twenty-year-old elfling again. The same puppy eyes stared back at her, except now they stared down instead of up. She battled her conscience for a moment before she yielded. "Fine!"

Turning to Faelwen, she asked, "Do you mind taking over for me? Just for a moment."

The girl nodded and stood, taking over kneading the bread dough. Lona led the Prince to the small table in the corner where the staff sometimes ate during their breaks. Ordering the boy into a seat she gently undid the braids that Legolashad tried to make this morning. Faelwen tried not to stare at them and stay polite, but the picture they made seemed too strange to ignore.

Legolas sat still, eyes closed as he leaned forward against the backrest of the chair, completely relaxed. Lona carried a look of concentration on her face, her fingers moving nimbly through his golden hair as she eased up the tangles one by one using her hands.

"Comb," she said flatly, taking the offered device before starting to rake it through the hair, small sections at a time.

Faelwen felt a blush threatening again. Hair was special to elves, but even more so for Silvan. To let another touch one's hair was an intimate gesture and no other than her mother and sisters ever fingered her hair in that way. For the prince to be so comfortable around Lona to let her touch his hair in such a way.. Without her consent, her imagination placed herself in Lona's place and it made the heat on her cheeks rise even more.

Faelwen's staring must have unnerved him, because Legolas opened his clear blue eyes and stared straight back at her. He did not move an inch but his eyes communicated all that needed to be said with that single look.

Do not interrupt us.

Faelwen almost flinched at the hard edge in the normally soft and kind eyes. It was a look she had only seen mirrored in the King, when he was in one of his moods. Shuddering faintly, she turned her head back down to the dough. If he thought she intended to intrude, then he was wrong. Though it made her heart ache at the rejection she just experienced. She had always thought the prince a kindly elf. The were both close in age and she liked the way he always seemed to have a smile ready. His handsome features were of course a great advantage, but never had she thought that his exterior could hide a shade of his father beneath it. It seemed too unreal to be true. The father and son were as different as night and day and not only in appearance.

Portioning out the rolls, Faelwen carried the tray to the counter closest to the ovens to rise. When she returned, it was just in time to find Lona finishing off the simple braid. It pulled the hair out of his face, but left the large part of it falling down his shoulders and back. It was simple and elegant. But not something Faelwen thought a Prince would wear. Though, until his inauguration into the guard, Legolas would not be allowed to wear the customary warrior braids. Until then, he would have to make do with normal braids.

"There," Lona said as she finished.

Legolas traced a hand down the braid, feeling for its form since he could not see it. "It is good, as always. But I never understand why you insist on these docile braids." He moved to seat himself on the chair by the window, which allowed Lona to fetch his customary breakfast. His voice trailed a little on the wistful side when he asked, "I have seen the braids of your people. They are so much more fun."

Faelwen nearly choked on the air she breathed when she heard the innocent interpretation of the difference between the Silvan and the Sindar style of braiding. She had not known that the prince was unaware of the meaning behind theSindar style. Braiding was more of a tradition than simply ornamental styling, something that every elfling learned at an early age. Though considering the sheltered upbringing the prince had, Faelwen could not blame him for not knowing.

It was well-known throughout the realm that late King Oropher, the current King's father, did not favor the Silvan way of life. Yes, he respected them as his subjects, but he did not allow his family to mingle with them unnecessarily. His son, King Thranduil, had continued on that tradition. Not necessarily forbidding interaction, but Faelwen had learned early on in her service at the palace that things were not always so smooth between the Sindar nobles and the Silvanpopulation.

It infuriated the younger Silvan generations, who despised the claims that the Sindar and the Noldor looked down on them as less worthy, as more wild compared to their western kin. Faelwen, on her part, had thought that withThranduil's ascension to the throne Greenwood would grow more in equality where it concerned these matters. But as her peers liked to remind her, the power of state still remained in the hands of the Sindar. The noble blood of the ruling family remained 'unpolluted' and 'unspoiled'.

Lona stood silent for a while, contemplating the best way to discuss the issue. She had always been one of the more resilient, but also one of the more wise elves of the Silvan elves in the palace. Her mother's tribe's neutral position had always taught her patience when discussing her heritage with none Silvan. Especially since the Sindar were very different in their ways, compared to Silvan elves. But did not stop her from always striving for compromise. She would rather try to bridge across their differences instead of pointing them out. To reach for an understanding. Because understanding the differences was the only way to find acceptance. The needed to be able to coexist after all. Lona saw no reason anyone should have to be born either one camp or another. A reasoning which earned her high regard with the other staff members within the palace.

"I would gladly show you the true braids of my people one day, Prince Legolas. For they mark our heritage, and our pride. Even as little elflings, we have to earn the right to learn the old techniques, which have been passed down from generation to generation. When you earn the right to wear one, I will braid one for you."

It was as close to a diplomatic answer as Lona would come. She would not admit that given their traditions, there were few occasions short of marriage into a tribe that would allow an outsider to bear their braids. She shook her head, shaking off the scolding she would have gotten from her grandmother had she braided another's hair in their way without having earned the honor. It would not do to drag the prince into the affairs of his elders. Some things were simply better not known.

"That is not the only reason, is it?" Legolas asked, his eyes turning to the other Silvan in the room.

Legolas was sure he would get an answer easier from Faelwen than Lona. Legolas could tell there was an oliphaunt in the room, but it was also blatantly obvious that none of the ellith were willing to touch upon the subject. In fear of what? He did not know. But the Prince feared that the subject he stumbled upon was far graver in nature than he had once anticipated. There seems this was another subject he would have to add to the list of things he did not know about their woodland kin.

Lona sighed as she set a bowl of oatmeal and blueberries on the table in front of him. She could see that Legolas was still curious of the subject, but she had no intentions of going into detail about the peculiarities of the Silvan people with him. Especially since she knew the King's attitude on the matter. "You will have to ask your father."

So that was it then, Legolas thought bitterly. His brow furrowing, a displeased look on his face.

It the phrase he hated to hear the most because it meant that pursuing the matter any further almost definitely would get him in trouble. It was a fact he had learned early on while living in the palace. Legolas knew he was sheltered, andhad been spared pain and difficulties that others his age would have already experienced. Legolas understood that. He also saw that his father valued his integrity above all else. Even if it meant going as far as to hide the truth from him.

Lona watched as the cogs and wheels turned in the boy's head. She knew that Legolas was not, by any chance, stupid. It was impossible to imagine considering who his father was. But still, Lona had hoped to somehow spare him from this as long as possible.

The stiff relations between the Sindar and the Silvan had affected a lot of lives in Greenwood. Not even Lona herself had been spared that fate. Still, on this subject she had to agree with the King. He was the Prince's father, no one else. Which meant she had no right to interfere.

That was what hurt the most.

She went back towards the oven, beckoning Faelwen to her. "Come, let us get this last batch in the oven and then we will break fast."

The unusually silent elleth nodded, sending a tentative glance towards the still thinking blonde. Lona could sense that the girl was still nervous around Legolas. Their discussion had only made her disposition even more prominent.

"Can I have flower tea?" Faelwen asked hopefully. She really needed some of that calming tea now.

The girl's eyes grew large with a silent plead, and Lona could almost imagine her as an elleth half her age. For although she was older, she still retained a small part of that childish innocence Lona had once tried to save. So much had been lost all too soon.

Smiling encouragingly, Lona nodded, "Of course you can."


.oOo.

Dawn was for those who had time to rest, not for one who had a kitchen to run. The stars were still high in the sky when Lona moved around in her room at the back of the servant quarters. The cool morning air filtered in through the cracks of her window, invigorating and refreshing at the same time.

She stood before her mirror, watching herself in the light of a single candle. Her green dress was simple and made for comfort, not to look flattering. But it did not stop her from tugging a little at the waistline of her dress. The fabric had become a little tight recently, something she had accepted over the years as kitchen head cook. A little weight gain was not unusual for her, but it always made her frown when she found out she had to alter her dresses once again.

Sighing, she brushed her long auburn hair. The length was a custom of her people, but it did not stop her from wishing she could cut it to a more manageable length. At least she did not have to suffer that knee-length hair most of the courtladies had, it made her hip long hair seem much more comfortable. Remembering the warm weather from yesterday, she decided to braid and pin it up firmly on her head. The weight would tug at her scalp but it would give her a little more movement than a loose braid.

Her thoughts wandered as she made the customary twists and braiding that belonged to an unmarried Silvan elleth. It was somewhat ridiculous that she would have to make a 'free' braid at her age, but she had made her choices, and she would stand by them firmly. Finishing off, she added a white hair clip, small white flowers encrusting its length.

It was not long until she walked soundless through the servant quarters, entering the hall that led down to the kitchen. Her apron, a pristine white, glowed in the dark, making her seem almost ghost-like as she walked on in silence. Using her keys, she unlocked the heavy door to the kitchen. She found the prepared tea-tray she left each evening on the small cart by the door missing.

Galion must have fetched it for the King last night, she mused.

The butler was a committed elf who took none of his priorities lightly. He lived his life alongside the king, which was an honor any decent Silvan elf would be proud of. But it also meant that he did not retire until the King saw it fit to do so himself. It was a hard routine, one Lona had often addressed him on, since the King never held fixed hours and could at times be found working long into the night.

As she lifted the teakettle, she saw the little note and small white flower placed beside it.

'Thank you ~ Galion'

Lona smiled and brought the small blossom up to her nose. When the elf had found the time to fetch an apple blossom for her she had no idea. But it still made her smile.

As she ran her fingertips over the smooth white petals she was remembered that she would soon have to venture out to harvest more flowers for her teas. Her flower teas where the only ones they did not import, and it was often in high demand in the palace. She kept a strict stock reserved for the King, however, as he had taken a clear liking to her blends.

Reaching the wooden cabinet containing her teas, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the smell of dried flowers that fled it once she opened the door. She checked the amounts scrupulously, her face falling a little when she saw the dwindling supply of 'The Dance of Spring' blend. It would not do. The King's favorite was her own security blanket which had kept her in King Tranduil's good graces through many a trouble over the years. Closing the box, she wondered how long it would take for this years spring flowers to dry sufficiently. There had been little forest flowers last spring due to the cold winter in northern Greenwood, and the small harvest she had drying in her office would be strained to keep up with the demand throughout the winter.

Sighing, she locked the cabinet. The silver key hung on a leather cord around her neck, neatly tucked away beneath her dress.

Perhaps she could barter with her kin in the eastern reaches of the forest? Silvan elves did gather some and dry them according to tradition for the spring festival, but it was a custom that was fading with the years. Less and less flowerswere harvested as more time was spent trying to increase crops to supply the capital.

She shook her head, determined not to worry too much. She would send a letter and ask. Staring out the window into the direction she knew her old home lay she wondered if they would grace her with an answer. Her mother and sister might, but if her father got hold of it first..

Grabbing a broom, she started to vigorously sweep the floor. The kitchen needed to be spotless. After sweeping and mopping it, she started to set the wood into the furnaces and heat the ovens and stoves. It took nearly two hours before she had all her morning tasks finished, just enough for the first colors of dawn to crawl across the horizon.

When the kettle whistled, she poured the scalding hot water into her teapot. Steeping some apple tea, she hesitated for a moment before she dropped the apple blossom atop of her tea. The beauty accompanied by the sweet fragrance of apples soothed her mind and she settled down by the table to enjoy the silence. Her mouth curling into a wistful smile as her thoughts drifted.


.oOo.

"Ada.."

The king rolled in his bed, ears half buried beneath the covers. Legolas was not impressed, and without hesitation he climbed up on the large mattress, a finger inching over to poke his father's side.

"Go away, Legolas," Thranduil mumbled from underneath the covers. He did not move a muscle, as if trying makeLegolas lose interest in his sleeping form.

"Ada.. You promised," whined the Prince, in the way only an overgrown child could. Very irritatingly.

"And I can still keep that promise at a more sociable time of day."

His father really could be stubborn when he wanted to. "The oatmeal will turn to glue if we wait any longer."

Thanduil pulled the covers down a bit, clear blue eyes taking in the displeased look on his son's face. The solution to the problem was obvious. "Then I will order it remade."

Legolas slumped visibly before protesting. "But then it won't be Lona's!"

That caused the King to sit up in bed. His long blonde hair cascading around him. "Are you still hounding that poorelleth? I thought I told you to stay out of trouble."

"I am not hounding anyone, Ada. We are friends that simply like to eat breakfast at the same time of day," he stated with no small amount of annoyance.

"She has enough work as it is, Legolas. Do not add to her burden."

"Keeping each other company isn't that bad. Were both up, why not share the lonely morning together? he said averted his eyes from his father's steady gaze. He hated when he treated him like a child. But he despised it even more when his father tried to rule who can be his friend and who cannot.

The downcast expression tugged at Thranduil's heart. When had his son become so mature? He used a hand to smooth down Legolas's golden hair. "Fine. But only for a minute. I still have work to do in the morning."

The younger elf immediately brightened and bounced of the bed. "Can I bring my bow? You said you would show me how to shoot the one hundred feet target this time."

"Sure, my little Leaf," he said as he waved the enthusiastic elf off.

Drawing himself from the warm confines of his bed, he started to ready himself for his day. All the while he cursed the fact that his son was starting to realize the power he held over him.

He stopped mid wash and smiled.

Well.. Just this once.

A half hour later the duo could be found strolling down the halls and deep pathways of the Elvenking's halls.. Well more like the King walking and trying to calm an energetic Prince beside him. Most of the palace was still sleeping, and it was a nice contrast to the normally filled hallways buzzing with elves.

Thranduil listened to his son as he recounted his latest exploit with his bow; how the bird he had stalked had somehow deflected his arrow, leading him on a merry pursuit. The young one's eyes danced with life as he added more action to his tale by spicing up certain parts as he went along. Thranduil found he could listen to the lively voice for hours if he had the time. His youthful exuberance brought him more joy than he thought possible.

Legolas head suddenly perked into attention and he took a whiff at the air. "Oh! There are cookies too!"

The prince started to drag him more insistently down the hall, attempting to speed their progress. Thanduil only shook his head at his son's antics, wondering how his personality had managed to produce such a lively offspring. He knew better than to protest, an determined Legolas would not budge. No matter how unseemly being pulled down the hall was.

Seeing as his father was with him, Legolas actually bothered knocking on the kitchen doors. "Good morning, Lona," he said, searching the kitchen with his eyes for his friend.

The elleth poked her head up from behind one of the counters where she had filled one of their stores with flour. "Oh, good morning, little Leaf-" she stopped mid sentence seeing who stood behind him. Straightening, she dusted her hands off on her apron. "Your Highness. Good morning."

Legolas did not miss the sudden stiffness nor the change in demeanor that overcame his friend at the sight of his father. Throwing a glance back at the King, Legolas pulled him inside while smiling to try to ease some of the tension.

"Ada and I are to train with my bow today. I thought it best we get an early breakfast." He hesitated for a moment, before adding, "You won't mind, will you Lona?

Thranduil watched emotions pass over the auburn haired elleth's face as she rose from the small curtsy she had made him. Her hands fidgeted, she snatched some cutlery from the counter to try to hide some of her nervousness. She looked the same as she always had. The forest green dress and that ever-present braid. Her leafy green eyes hard in the light. Lona's face had softened somewhat since he had last seen her, but there was still a rigid tightness beneath it. She obviously hadn't expected him to visit.

"Of course not," she said with a neutral mien. "It is just.. We seldom have the King here to visit us, but if you think our simple breakfast will do, then by all means. Please.. "

The two men watched as she motioned to the simple table in the corner. The four chairs surrounding a round table a poor substitute for the King's table. Still, it was set with a clean white tablecloth and plates, bowls and other necessities that might be needed. Thranduil's eyes settled on the steaming glass teapot. The light pink tea inside drawing his attention.

"It is fine," Thranduil offered offhandedly, before moving towards the table. His bearing and stride confident as if it were his own rooms, rather than the palace kitchen he was in. Legolas silently filed in beside him, taking the window seat as was his custom. His form giddy, despite how hard he tried to hide it.

"Here Ada," Legolas said as he handed out a platter laid with fruit, before he thanked Lona as she brought them oatmeal.

She seated herself awkwardly opposite the king, so that Legolas was stuck firmly in between them, allowing her the range to rise in case something needed fetching. Thranduil, on his part, helped himself to the tea. The fruity smell revealed it to be raspberry tea. Sensing the prolonged silence, Thranduil tried to alleviate the awkward air between them.

"I see you are well, my Lady," he said, glancing at her through the corner of his long lashes.

Lona blinked, before checking herself. "Yes, my Lord."

He raised his chin slightly, blue eyes regarding her. "And your parents?"

Lona chose not to meet those haughty eyes. She knew all to well what hid behind them. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap, keeping as docile as possible. This was the king. Manners were important no matter how much it irked her. "They were well, when I last heard from them."

"Lona's parents live far off in the East forest," Legolas squeezed in, "In a flet almost as high up as the mountain itself. She says the birds often stop by to say hello to them."

The king raised a brow at the deflection, a grin threatening to pull on his lips. "I know very well where they live, son." He watched as Legolas drizzled a great amount of golden honey over the blueberries and porridge. "That is enough,Legolas."

The boy stayed his hand and set the honey jar back on the table. "Sorry. Honey, Lona?"

The elleth thanked him, but declined the offer. Her stomach was uneasy and she feared she would have a hard time eating. Adding sweet honey would only make it worse.

Lona felt very much out-of-place, sitting with the King and the Prince, alone in her private sphere. Or perhaps it was that the King was sitting in her kitchen that made her so uncomfortable. It had been a long time since she had a private audience with the king. Many years since she had been a couple of feet away from him. She barely knew this ellon. The one that had taken the crown after his father's death and turned into a whole new being. They said power changed a man, and in this instance, she could not help but agree. The cold visage he adopted in public helped him to keep other elves at a distance. But his arrogance was even worse.

There was a time when the invisible wall between them did not exist. When they had both been just young elves exploring the exciting woods and cared not for what others thought of them. There had been no Silvan or Sindar, only friends. No title to separate them. Remembering those carefree years reawakened the great loss within her, and sheclenched the fabric of her dress in one hand under the table.

"I want to thank you, Lady Lona." He said in that low steady voice he was famed for. That voice that commanded respect and fealty.

Her heart jolted at the words, causing her to raise her eyes timidly, only to find the King staring straight at her. His blue orbs did not watch her with the usual cold scrutiny, but instead softened, more like his son's than she had ever seen them before. Where was the aloof gaze? The carefully calculated distance they had kept the last millennia?

"My King?" she asked, uncertain. She did not dare question why the elf was acting so strangely to his face.

"I thank you, both for offering my son a place to spend his time and for being his friend. Helping him even though you have no obligation to do so," he paused, his forehead morphing out of its usual kingly façade, the stern and imperious lines disappearing. "I heard Legolas required your assistance with his latest surprise."

"Ada!"

Lona, however, did not see nor hear the embarrassment that washed over the Prince. No. She could not tear her eyes off the King's face.

There. An almost unnoticeable curl of his lips. A smile. It was so incredible to see one on his face, Lona started to think she was actually back in bed, dreaming. For surely, the proud Sindar king would not smile so carelessly in front of a simple Silvan maiden?

"I hope he is not too much of a trouble for you, and I apologise for any inconvenience he has caused you. He can be a little.. obstinate at times."

It was all too unreal, and Lona felt the need to set it all back to normal. She ducked her head, a hesitant smile reaching her own lips as she stopped him. "He is no trouble, really. In fact, he is quite a joy to have around."

Legolas, who had been busy trying to stop his father from embarrassing him further froze and gaped at the suddenly shy elleth beside him.

What in the-

"Good," the king replied and sipped slowly on the tea. "Now, Legolas. If you plan on reaching the training fields any time this morning, we really should finish eating."

His father sent him that look again that told him to behave, causing the startled blonde to settle back in his chair, gaping mouth closing with a snap. The king was in a strangely good mood, and if it kept them happy he would behave. Even if he had a sneaking suspicion that his father was enjoying himself far too much.. The fact that he had not yet called him out once in his less than princely behavior only reinforced his suspicions.

Shoving down another spoon of sweet porridge, Legolas glanced at his friend. Lona was eating herself now, her hands peeling another apple with a small knife. She looked normal enough, though Legolas missed their carefree conversations they often had when he was there by himself. He did, however, try to ignore the light dusting of pink on her cheeks. The sight of it only opened up further questions for him. After all, he could not remember a single time he had seen her blush before.

Before long, their bowls were finished and Lona set about gathering the dishes and set them to soak in the sink. Legolaswaited patiently as his father drank the last of his third cup of tea. But his restlessness soon got the better out of him and in the end, he had to be led out of the kitchen by the King.

When he passed the doorway, he paused, pulling his father to a halt with him. Turning back to peer into the kitchen he met the surprised green eyes with a grin. "Can I have some of the cookies when I come back?" he asked as he eyed the baking tray hungrily.

Lona shook out the kitchen towel she had pulled off the tray and raised a brow at him. "Only if you actually hit the target this time."

Legolas lit up with the challenge and proclaimed proudly, "Of course, my Lady! See you soon."

The king let his eyes follow the boy down the hall, amusement on his face. He turned to face her, "Farewell, Lady Lona." His eyes told her without using words that he did not need her customary bow since she was busy preparing the trays.

She watched him turn to leave, his robes sweeping behind him, before saying softly, "Farewell, King Thranduil."


.oOo.

A moonturn later..

'Dear daughter.

My heart rejoices at hearing from you. I know that it is hard for you to write home, not knowing whatever mood your father is in, but know that your sister and I wait eagerly to hear from you none the less.

We are all well. I am still helping your father with the vineyard as the demand for medicine has been low of late. The sun and rain have been plentiful this year and we expect the yearly wine produce to increase substantially this year. I have already picked out some of our finest to send you. I know how you like our grapes so.

It will please you to hear that your sister has finally decided to make it official with Nendir. We would of course want you to partake in the bonding celebrations, and I extend the invitation on your sister's behalf, though we both understand if you find it hard to return to us in time for the festivities.

As you know, your father's temper is as fickle as the wind. But I can assure you that I will persuade him if you earnestly wish to come home. His pride has driven him for far too long. In all honesty, I think he is simply being stubborn since you decided to choose another ellon over him. He will turn around eventually, this animosity between you two need to stop. But I fear, without actually sitting down and speaking with him, there is little you will accomplish on that front. He misses you, as I know you do too. Will you not consider putting the past to rest between you?

Regarding the spring flower gathering, I am not well-informed of the amounts Huoriel and the others have gathered since flower blooms have become harder and harder to find this far south. I will, however ask her and see what I can do about the matter.

Be safe and stay healthy,

Hwinnlîr

Lona reread the letter many times, her fingers tracing her mother's cursive script. It did not come as a surprise that she would answer her. Her father rarely wrote, nor did he willingly contact her by his own choice. The anger between them was still strong. He wanted her to cave in and come back begging for his forgiveness. For her to admit her wrongdoings, to regret her willingness to spurn her kin for the sake of the one she loved. She wanted him to understand her choices. To respect them and accept them for what they were. She could not turn back. Even if she wanted to.

Folding the letter, she placed it back in the envelope which carried the insignia of her mother. The leaf tinted parchment marked permanently with the proud nightingale of their tribe.

At times Lona wondered how her life would have turned out if she had not met him. If she had passed the time of her visit to the capital without running into him. Without him reaching out to help her up from the ground.

She released a dry laugh as she concentrated on his face from her memories. The young, unmarred beauty that drew her in despite the muddy streaks across his face. The way his brows rose and his eyes danced with amusement as she accused him of bumping into her on purpose. The curl of his lips as he asked her forgiveness, even though they both knew he never meant one bit of the apology.

No. Ever since she was a small elfling listening to the wisdom of her elders seated on her grandfather's knee she had believed in paths. She knew that if it was fate, there was nothing that could pull you off your path fate had bestowed upon you. She had been meant to find him that day, to fall for him and ultimately to lose him. It was how it was supposed to be.

For what purpose? She did not yet know. But if she did not believe in fate, how would she continue on?

"Bad news?"

Lona looked up and tilted her head in question at the silent butler. "What are you doing here?"

Galion strode forward, seating himself opposite her at the kitchen table. With his head perched on his propped up arm, he held up a finger. "Just wondering why you are sitting here, all by yourself, instead of being outside and enjoying the fruit of your labors."

She raised a brow, "I could ask you the same. Has the King dismissed you for the evening?"

He drew himself up, surprised, "How did you know?"

"Because you would not be here but standing by his side had you not been dismissed of your duties," she said, amused.

Galion chuckled, "You know me all too well, my Lady."

She smiled back at him, joining in on his mirth. She guessed it was nice to have company after all. It was a nice end to a hard days work. She had originally planned on spending the eve in the peace of her kitchen, far off from the celebrations. The Closing of the Harvest was too grand for her, she preferred watching it from a distance instead. Seeing the elves enjoy themselves always got her in a good mood, especially since the Closing of Harvest was the third most celebrated festival for the woodelves. It was all about enjoying life and its blessings.

Galion watched as she studied the lights shimmering out in the wood. The music could be heard all the way inside and the spicy scent of the bonfires filled their senses through the window despite their remote location. He could see a glint of something in her eyes and it was not from the candle light in front of her.

Swallowing, he cleared his throat, "Actually, I was going to ask you for a dance."

It took a moment for the words to register, and when they did Lona studied the elf before her. The extravagant but dark clothing which flattered his faintly golden skin, the dark hair braided perfectly with five braids that interlaced before sloping down his back. She blushed at the sight, averting her gaze quickly. "I do not dance."

Now it was Galion's time to look unimpressed. "I have seen you dance before, my Lady."

"You are wearing your 'open' braid and you still ask this of me?" Lona argued. She could not believe this was happening. It was not supposed to happen.

Galion's eyes softened for a second, his hand reaching up to run down one of the long braids. "You are wearing your 'free' braids as you have done for as long as I have known you."

Her eyes flashed dangerously, but she did not answer the taunt. "It is a matter of circumstance, not choice."

Galion reached out to place his hand on the table half-way across, taking the initiative, but not forcing her hand. "And I am asking for a simple dance. Nothing more, nothing less," he said calmly.

He watched her sit stubbornly, her arms crossed as she seemed to contemplate her answer. Sighing, he added, "We are friends, are we not?"

Lona faced him, her eyes searching his as her hand, while hesitant, moved to cover his. Her lips thinned in dismay, "You do realize that this is utterly inappropriate? We are alone here.."

Galion smirked as he rose from his chair, dragging her up with him. "You should realize that we are both well over three millennia, not elflings."

She pushed at him weakly, the force not causing him to stumble, but it was enough to get her point across. He took her hands in his, his dark eyes staring down at her with a secretive smile on his lips. "Do not worry. You will leave this room with your innocence and integrity intact."

Slowly, they started to move on the floor. The duo's small swaying movements changed in time with the music. Galionturned them around in a continuous small circle, the light from the kitchen furnace illuminating their forms. Lona took a faulty step and Galion cried out softly, but kept his grip on her waist steady.

"Sorry," she said with a smirk of her own, her eyes gleaming with hidden purpose. "I did not mean to step on it. I was simply distracted by the wandering hand."

"Well that would be my fault," he chuckled softly as he winked at her, drawing a blush from her. "You do dance well, despite the deliberate stomping."

"Thank you," she said as she kept her eyes on their feet, unable to meet the intense gaze of her friend. "Galion.. You do know that I cannot.."

"Yes," he stopped her words, "I am aware that your heart is no longer available. That no matter how hard I try it will not be swayed from its path."

He looked down at her shorter form, his eyes appraising the way her auburn hair turned into fire before his eyes. How her forest green eyes assimilated the light and made them glow like spring leaves in the sun.

His voice turned into a low whisper, his eyes closing as to save her image in his mind, "Just.. let me live in the illusion of it for another moment. Let me imagine that we are dancing around the bonfire outside; with you in my arms for all the others to see, that your eyes shine with starlight only for me.

Lona could say nothing to that, nothing that would ease the ache inside him. No words could heal a broken heart, it was something she knew from experience. She moved her hands to his shoulders, her feet still moving to the music before she rose up on her tip toes, pressing a fleeting chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

She decided to ignore the small gasp that escaped his lips as she retreated from him. Their forms stilled as the dance stopped. Light burned in his eyes as he opened them to the world again and she felt the pull for warmth, for intimacy. A longing she had not answered since so long ago. She smoothed out the creases in her dress nervously, before she turned her face up to his.

"I hope your imagination proved to be all you hoped for," she said softly, her cheeks still hot from her earlier act of bravery.

Galion stared intently at her, his hands still resting on her waist as he tried to calm his racing heart. His voice, slightly rough with emotion, took a moment before it dared to voice his thoughts out loud:

"Yes. Only far sweeter."


.oOo.

"I have been asked to attend a Coming of Age celebration."

"Oh?"

Faelwen sighed, seeing that Lona distracted. They were both cleaning cherries, removing the stone so that they could be cooked and made into preserves for the winter. It was tedious work, but she would rather be doing it than washing dishes.

"Your parents will be happy to have you home," Tanna said quietly from where she stood scrubbing a pot.

"I do not want to go home," she said determinedly. "It is always the same. 'Have you met someone? When are you getting married?' Ever since I've passed the three hundred mark they continue to remind me that time is ticking and should I not start looking for a husband."

"All parents want to see their children happy, Faelwen." Lona scooped another batch of berries into her bowl. Her face calm, but her eyes focused on the girl. "They only want what they think is best for you."

"Marrying is not going to make anything better. Especially if they try to force Tatharion on me."

"Tatharion? Isn't he the elfling you used to play with?" Lona asked, confused.

"I watched him for his parents during the harvest, yes. But that was years ago. It is his celebration I am invited to." She shook her head, dispelling the thought of the small child she had taken care of. That elfling had grown into a tall and willowy elf worthy of his name. "He's been infatuated with me these last two years. Ever since I visited at the summer solstice two years ago."

She sighed and turned pleading eyes in their direction. "I just know he will ask me to give him his honor's kiss."

Lona stopped her fiddling with the cherries and looked at her, surprised. Tanna, however, was not so silent about her opinion.

"That is so romantic!" she breathed with her eyes turning dreamy. "I remember my honor's kiss. There weren't anyellon in my age group. But I think my choice was good, I still blush remembering it."

"Any ellon choosing you as the ceremony partner would be lucky to have you." Lona said seriously. "But if he truly holds you in such a high regard, it makes the ritual even better since he's serious. You are the one bestowing his first step into adulthood, after all. Being chosen is an honor in itself."

"But I do not feel for him that way!" Faelwen protested. She did not want to kiss him nor any other elf. Flashes of PrinceLegolas danced before her eyes, leaning in over with his sparkling blue eyes.

A heavy blush creeped up Faelwen's cheeks and Tanna sent her a look. She knew exactly the feeling the girl was imagining. For she too had those flutters of thoughts when she talked to Calanon.

"Besides, you can leave it as a quick peck if you want to," Tanna said, drawing out a chair to sit on. "He cannot force you to do anything you do not want. You are the one in control."

Faelwen visually drooped. Her mind knew the logic in it, but her heart did not like the betrayal such an action meant. "It's just," she shook her head not believing she was actually contemplating it, "I thought that my second kiss would be with someone I actually want to kiss."

"The prince won't kiss you," Lona said seriously, a hard edge to her voice. Faelwen jumped a little in her seat. "And even if he entered the phase where such a fancy would interest him, and he was allowed to entertain such an act, you would have to stand in line with the other hundreds of elleth waiting for that honor."

She watched Faelwen's face drop. But Lona felt the need to be harsh on the dreaming girl. She was seeing the world through tinted glass, and in matters of the hearts one needs to see clearly. Because love with take every chance it gets to blind you.

"This infatuation you have with the Prince is a nice thing. But we have stay realistic," she reached out for her hand, her eyes burdened with what she had to say. "He is a Prince, Faelwen. A prince. The king's halls are not part of a fairytale where Prince Legolas rides in and sweeps you off your feet to ride off into the sunset. That is not how it works."

She straightened, leveling herself with a deep breath. "I do not say that you should jump at the very first elf that ask you for a dance. For your heart is a most precious gift and not to be handled lightly. But do not close off your heart before you know that your affection is returned."

Lona ignored the burning gaze that Tanna threw her. She felt like a hypocrite saying these words, but if there was something to be learned from living this long, it was that choosing right, no matter the circumstances, could hurt in the end. Which is why one should consider matters carefully before deciding on things which cannot be changed. If Faelwendecides that an unfulfilled love is what she desires, then she cannot sway her. For that would be her choice. ButFaelwen is young, and without seeing what is around her, how will she know it is the proper choice for her? She had not even approached the Prince with her feelings yet.

Tanna inclined her head, her light blonde hair sweeping in to shield her. Her own thoughts rumbled inside her head and she knew exactly what Lona was trying to say. For it was a matter that had plagued her recently, something that she still felt conflicted about when she became insecure in her feelings. After all, love was always a big step in an elf's life.

Her lips fluttered for a moment, as if gathering the right words. Raising her head, Tanna said to Faelwen what her mother once said to her. "Be careful with your heart, Faelwen. Because elves only love once in their long lives. Do not utter such words of certainty until you are perfectly sure of your feelings."

The girl's eyes widened. Her companions both looked serious, their faces all lost in their own turmoil. Faelwen never felt smaller in the world than in that instant. "But how do I know what is right?"

"That.." Lona said, her voice eerie, as if a sudden cold had swept into the room and made her recoil into her own being. Clinging for warmth. "Is something you have to determine yourself. Because only you know what truly lies in your heart."


#To be continued...


Braids

'Free' braid – unmarried elleth/ellon past majority.

'Open' braid – unmarried and open for possible relationship. As in actively seeking. Often used to discretely show interest.