Chapter 2

Ziendriel stared at Legolas, the shock written clearly on her face. "What do you mean I cannot accompany you?" she demanded.

Legolas inwardly sighed as he crossed the room to clasp his wife's hands in his. They were now standing in their bedchamber, freshly scrubbed and dressed after returning from their hunt earlier in the day. He had tried to refresh himself as quickly as possible for the envoy he had spoken of had arrived and awaited his appearance. Ziendriel, however, had caught him just as he had opened the chamber's door and had questioned his sudden departure.

He now saw that telling her of the counsel his father was holding regarding Adrianna had been a mistake. Almost immediately, Ziendriel had asked to go with him. The logical part of his brain had agreed with her, but the other, the part that was ruled dominantly by his heart had screamed out its denial; unfortunately, his mouth had obeyed his heart before he knew what he was doing.

And now, his wife stood in the middle of their bedchambers, staring somewhat incredulously at him. The change from the naive and innocent maiden he had met ten years ago to the she-Elf before him was astounding: she of course still looked as she did all those years ago, but there was now much more wisdom and maturity in those green eyes of hers. Her hair remained untouched by time and hung in a flowing sheet of dark silk down her back, while her eyes burned brightly within her face. The effects of pregnancy nor childbirth had not spoiled her body or her skin; both were still smooth and flawless, and only helped in making her husband fall deeper in love with her.

"I am sorry, melamin," he now told her, clasping her hands. "I am merely suggesting that it would be best if you did not participate in the counsel; I did not say you could not accompany me." He gently squeezed her hands and offered her a small smile.

She looked questioningly at him. "Then I may go?" she asked, suspiciously.

He tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her pointed ear, allowing his finger to linger on the soft spot behind her earlobe. "Perhaps I will not attend and stay here with you," he answered, grinning madly.

Ziendriel laughed, then slapped his hand away. "Your distractions will not work, milord!" she scolded, wagging an accusing finger at him, "Nor will it succeed in scattering my thoughts!" She stuck her tongue out at him as he rolled his eyes. "I will have a straight answer from you, husband!" she added.

This time, Legolas did sigh aloud. "Ziendriel," he began, almost tiredly, "my father is no doubt waiting for me; I must go." He gently kissed her on the forehead and turned to walk away.

"You must forgive her, Legolas."

She had spoken it quietly, but it stopped him nonetheless. The truth in that sentence held such power, such belief that it chilled him. It was a plea that until now, had been unspoken between them, but nevertheless existing. Not once in their years of marriage had Ziendriel asked him to do this: not days after her recovery from her abduction, not the day they had announced their betrothal, nor on their wedding day. She had never asked him to do this one seemingly simple action.

Memories of Ziendriel's torn and bloodied wrists flashed before his eyes, causing him to wince. The events that had caused those injuries had happened over ten years ago, but Legolas did not think he would ever erase that image from his mind. It was that image that fired his will to see that his wife knew of his love for her every single day and to reassure her that she and their son were safe.

Without turning to look at her, Legolas said, "My heart is not like yours, wife. Forgiveness does not come easily for the one who has hurt you and in turn hurt me."

He heard her sigh, then the rustle of her dress as she came to stand behind him. "You cannot carry on like this, Legolas," she told him, softly. "I have seen the way this affects you, the way this resentment haunts yours eyes. You harbor it, stoking it with your anger, allowing it to fester within your heart. It controls your actions, as well as your thoughts. You are not the same lord I met all those years ago in the gardens." She tentatively reached out to place a hand on his back, then gasped in surprise when he swiftly turned to face her, capturing her wrist.

"If I am not the man you once knew," he said, harshly, "you have Adrianna Roseleaf to thank for it! If my eyes are haunted with turmoil it is because of her! I have every reason to feel nothing but hate and contempt for her, anyone would agree to that! Why can you not allow me this?" His eyes were blazing with a fierceness that she had not yet experienced, rendering her speechless. She took a step back from him, mesmerized by the light that shone in the twin orbs of startling blue. She gently tugged her wrist from his grasp.

"The day you pleaded for mercy on her behalf, my father asked if you had forgotten what Adrianna had done to you," Legolas continued, quietly. "Do you remember what you spoke in reply?"

Ziendriel nodded. "I replied that I would always have reminders of it," she answered, unconsciously rubbing her wrists.

He once again grabbed her wrists. "Yet, I do not see such evidence from your statement," he said, turning her wrists over and staring at the smooth and unmarred skin there.

"The emotional reminders are still there, Legolas," she said, pulling out of his grasp. "As they always will be. I spoke of the reminders that would not be seen once the physical ones were healed."

"You are right, meleth," he told her quietly. "The reminders will always be there. They may not affect you the way they do me, but I can assure you that they will always be there, playing over and over in my mind!"

Ziendriel watched silently as Legolas turned on his heel and stomped out of the room. He nearly collided with her maid, Tiri, but she managed to successfully jump out of his way. He stopped for a moment to regard the servant, staring at her hard and intently. The scrutiny made her squirm just a bit as she bowed her head before him, tactfully avoiding his eyes. After a rather long moment, Legolas muttered something under his breath and walked away.

"Mistress?" Tiri called hesitantly from the doorway.

Ziendriel gave her a small smile before motioning her in. "I apologize, Tiri," she said. "I fear the master is in a foul mood." She sighed, then took a seat at the window. "Come, join me," she told the younger maiden. "Take but a moment from your duties and tell me what your day has conspired of." She patted the cushion beside her in invitation.

Tiri blushed, but did what her mistress asked. She sat down next to her and watched as Ziendriel offered her another warm smile. Tiri found herself smiling back and like many times before, felt a flood of relief wash over her as she thought of how fortunate she was to be able to serve the Princess of Mirkwood. It was because of the Lady before her that she, a chambermaid, was able to retain her station as such a servant, and not rot the rest of her immortal life in a prison for her misdeeds. She owed her life to Ziendriel, but feared that her servitude would not be enough to redeem herself in her mistress' eyes.

She has forgiven me, She thought, and found that the fact still marveled her, But I have yet to forgive myself. I regret the day I agreed to Lady Roseleaf's plan, for I was blind and naïve. I fear I will pay for that for the rest of my life!

Ziendriel saw the frown forming on her maid's face and gently smiled. "What is wrong, Tiri?" she asked. "The frown that threatens your lips could rival that of my husband! Pray tell me what it is that makes you frown and I promise I will try to remedy it!"

Tiri started at being found out and merely shook her head. "'Tis nothing, mistress," she answered, sheepishly. "I fear my thoughts have wandered because my hands have stopped their duties." She grinned.

Ziendriel laughed. "We may be Elves, Tiri," she told her. "But, it does not mean we cannot rest." She smiled, then fell silent, her eyes wandering towards the window. She took in the beautiful sight before her, reveled in the peaceful songs of birds that drifted into the room, sighing contentedly. She remained like that for a moment before sighing. "No matter what the past has thrown to us, Tiri," she said, softly, "The promise of a brand new day is always on the horizon. Do you not agree?"

Tiri nodded, her hazel eyes somber. "Of course, milady," she answered, frankly. "Each day of my life has been proof of it, I have no doubt."

Ziendriel turned to her, smiling as she did so, for she knew of what Tiri implied. She did not regret her decision to take her as her servant nor did she have second thoughts of forgiving her. Her assumption of Tiri had been correct and she had proven herself time and again as a most faithful servant.

Ziendriel clasped the chambermaid's hands in hers, then jolted when the familiar flash of white light blinded her eyes…

Tiri ran frantically along the western road, her eyes large and afraid. She stumbled over the hem of her dress, gasping as she tried to run faster, then cried out loud at the sound of an approaching horses. She threw a glance over her shoulder, screaming as the sight of a dark horse and its rider descended on her, his sword raised high in the air. She saw the blade brightly reflecting the sun before turning away, urging her feet faster. The horse bore down on her, snorting loudly, as its rider quickly brought his sword down upon her…

Ziendriel gasped, clutching Tiri's hands in horror. Her eyes flew to her servant and was relieved when she saw her sitting there, gazing at her in concern.

"Milady?" Tiri asked, somewhat panicked, "Milady, what is it?" She had never seen her mistress like this before, as if she had gazed upon Death's face. Her mistress had turned pale and her body rigid, and for a moment, her eyes had glazed over.

Ziendriel took a deep breath, then shook her head. "I am fine, Tiri," she answered, a bit shakily. "Truly, I am. I think perhaps the day's activities have caught up with me." She smiled, then averted her eyes.

Tiri frowned as she looked at her mistress, unconvinced. "Perhaps a visit to the Houses of Healing would be in order," she suggested. The color was now slowly returning to her mistress' face and her eyes were no longer clouded, but she still looked a bit shaken.

Again, Ziendriel shook her head. "There is no need for it when some water will suffice," she answered, smiling weakly. She watched as Tiri stood from her seat and crossed the room to the desk, where a pitcher and goblet sat. She poured the clear liquid carefully into the cup, then hurried back to give it to her mistress, who took it with a grateful smile. After draining the contents, she added, "See? All better."

Tiri raised her brow in skepticism, then slowly shook her head. "If you say so, milady," she murmured. She returned the goblet to the table, then added, "I fear I must return to my duties. Please send word if you are in need of me, for anything, milady." She looked pointedly at her.

Ziendriel giggled, for the action reminded her of Velia. "I will," she assured her, "And I have decided to visit my sister, should you find the need to check up on me." She giggled again, when Tiri blushed for she had been many times caught shadowing her mistress with orders from Legolas.

Tiri curtsied quickly, then hurried from the room, her blush still evident. Ziendriel watched her go, then stood from her seat. A frown appeared on her face and worry creased her brow. The vision of Tiri had been disturbing to say the least, but it had not been the worst she had received. No, that had been mild compared to …

She pushed the thought away, for she did not wish to see that vision again. She had received it over five years ago, but the fear she felt every time she thought of it did not lessen. She would rather think of happier things and see them with her very own eyes. Grabbing her cloak from a nearby chair, she quickly threw it around her shoulders and exited the room. Her steps took her down to the main floor, where she turned down towards the tunnel that led to homes of the king's counselors. For a moment she was tempted to visit her mother, then thought better of it. Knowing Ariel, Mother will already be at her home, helping with the twins, she thought, smiling.

A few years after their son Arandùr had been born, Ariel had surprised them all by giving birth to a pair of twins. She and Lorith had named the boy Tùre and the girl Lìre, and they were now proving to be quite the handful, having taken after their father. The twins were now three years old and a great source of happiness for their aunt.

Pausing before the door that led to her sister's home, Ziendriel lightly knocked. She heard footsteps nearing the door, then blinked when it was thrown open, allowing the sunlight from the sitting room of the house to flood into the doorway. "Your Highness," the maid greeted, curtseying. She stepped aside to let her in, swiftly taking the cloak that was handed to her.

"Is my sister here?" Ziendriel asked, inwardly groaning at such formalities. She had never been comfortable with her station as a member of nobility and she doubted that the title of 'princess' would ever feel normal on her.

The servant nodded. "I believe she is in the garden with the children and your mother," she answered. "If you would follow me?" She gestured to the back of the house.

Ziendriel merely nodded and followed. She stepped out of the house through the back door, relishing the warm sunlight on her face. She kindly dismissed the maid and watched as she disappeared back into the house before heading out towards the garden.

The garden was a large area behind the house that consisted of tall hedges and flower bushes expertly planted by the king's gardeners. It was a beautiful sight to behold and one could seemingly get lost among the hedges that formed a small maze at one end. In the main area were a few benches and chairs to sit upon, while providing a grassy area for Ariel's children to run and play.

Entering the garden through the arched entryway, Ziendriel soon found whom she sought: Ariel sat upon one of the benches, sewing, while their mother sat next to her, watching the children as they played a game of tag. Arandùr caught sight of her first and came running towards her.

"'driel!" he yelled, flying into her outstretched arms. As he had learned to speak, Arandùr had never gotten around to properly pronouncing his aunt's name. After awhile, the name had just stayed. They both laughed as they tumbled to the ground in a small heap.

The twins joined them a minute later, only to shriek with laughter when their aunt began to tickle them. "What have you monsters been conspiring this day?" she asked, smiling as they writhed on the ground, their faces bright with smiles.

"Nothing!" they chorused, giggling.

"Then I know you have done some mischief!" she told them, scooping them up, one under each arm, "For only mischievous Elflings answer so quickly!" She carried them back towards their mother, who had stood to greet her.

Ariel gently kissed her sister's cheek. "I do wish you would behave like a princess, sister," she scolded her. "To be on Legolas' bad side is not my wish and allowing you to wrestle around like an Elven-lord in my garden will surely help to put me there." Her blue eyes danced with laughter as her lips twitched in a smile. If anything, Ariel had grown even more beautiful during the years and motherhood seemed to greatly agree with her, for her eyes shone brightly as she gazed upon her children.

Ziendriel rolled her eyes. "I fear anyone and everyone will be on my husband's bad side this day," she answered, walking over to their mother. She gently kissed her cheek and asked, "Sut naa lle umien sina re (How are you doing today)?"

Lilia Yalith smiled at her eldest daughter. "I am fine," she answered. "But you are changing the subject." She offered the empty space next to her on the bench. "Tell us what matter clouds the mind of your handsome husband?" She looked at her expectantly.

Ziendriel sighed. "I am surprised Father has not told you," she answered. "Or Lorith." Their father was still chief counselor to the king, while Lorith had been appointed to take his father's place since the older Elf had journeyed to the Undying Lands.

"You know your Father does not like to bring his work home with him," Lilia answered, shaking her head. "As I am sure Lorith does not also. Come, tell us for we are in sore need of gossip." She winked at her daughter to label her jest.

Ziendriel weakly smiled. "Legolas dwells on the past," she answered. "It rules over the logical side of him, turning him into someone I do not recognize. And with today's counsel, I do not think his mood will lighten."

"What is so important about this counsel?" Ariel asked, snatching a clump of dirt that Tùre seemed intent on eating, "It had Lorith in such a frenzy that he was not fully dressed when he left." She gently slapped her youngest son's hand when he tried to wrestle the dirt from his mother's hand.

Ziendriel fixed her eyes on the clouds that overlooked the garden. "An envoy arrived from Rivendell today," she answered. "Lord Elrond has deemed Adrianna cured and is requesting she be sent back to Mirkwood." She winced when she heard her sister gasp and saw their mother nearly jump out of her skin.

"Is that the bad she-Elf that hurt you, 'driel?" Arandùr asked, his blue eyes wide and innocent.

Ziendriel shot her sister a glance. "What have you told him?" she asked, curiously.

Ariel shrugged. "Just that Adrianna was bad and locked us both up in a bad place," she answered, then frowned when her sister looked exasperated. "Just because you have forgiven her, sister, does not mean the rest of us have," she continued, "Besides, I told my son the truth. Adrianna was bad."

"Yes, but did you tell him that she was sick?" Ziendriel demanded, "And that she went to Rivendell to be healed?" When Ariel made no answer, she leapt to her feet. "Why am I the only one to see this matter clearly?" she exclaimed, "By all accounts I should be the one to resist the idea of forgiveness, yet there is a running competition for that title among my loved ones! Why?"

Lilia took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Not in front of the children, dear," she whispered, nodding her head in their direction. The children were openly staring at their aunt, confused. A bit louder, she said, "You are right, daughter. But so is your sister. Forgiveness is given by those who are able to; unfortunately, your sister and I cannot. Not at the moment. Perhaps one day, but today is not that day."

Ziendriel slumped her shoulders down in defeat. "And what of Legolas?" she asked.

"Legolas, it seems, has taken on what you should have shouldered," Ariel answered, softly, "He has the most difficult of tasks, I believe: forgiving the one who has hurt the other half of his heart. Do you not understand what Adrianna's actions have caused for him? He speaks to Lorith of the image of your beaten body, your bleeding wrists for they forever haunt his mind. Everyday that he looks upon you, he cannot help but see that image flash before him. It is not good, I know, but he cannot let go of it. He feels no justice has been served."

Ziendriel sighed. "I wish I could make him understand," she said, sadly. "It is eating him from the inside out and I do not know how much worse it will get before it will get better."

Lilia hugged her and smiled. "You must never give up hope, daughter," she told her. "I am sure Legolas knows you are beside him; that should do for now."

"Besides," Ariel added, lightly, "it cannot get as worse as you imagine for I am wanting more nieces and nephews." She smiled, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

It worked, for Ziendriel gasped in shock. "Ariel!" she exclaimed, swatting her arm. "Do not speak of such things in front of your children!"

Her sister laughed. "Oh, they do not know of such talk," she answered. "Not yet, but I fear Lorith will change that shortly." She smiled to herself at the thought of her husband.

Ziendriel grinned as she watched her sister. It had greatly warmed her heart the day Lorith and Ariel had announced their betrothal, for she could not think of any Elf who better suited her sister than Lorith. They complimented one another perfectly with their near opposite personalities and it made Ziendriel glad to see her sister know happiness.

"I do not think Legolas could go through another birthing," Lilia now jested, giggling. "He almost did not survive Erundil's!"

Ziendriel burst out into laughter, as the image of her husband standing so calmly beside her bed as she pushed their son from her body came floating back to her. She remembered the day clearly….

FLASHBACK

"Push, Ziendriel!" Velia urged. "I can see the babe's head!" Her head dipped down to check the baby's progress, then came back up with a smile on her face. "Just a bit longer, child!"

Ziendriel grunted as she bore down, pushing hard as she clutched her husband's fingers. She was tired and in pain as she had been laboring for the last three days and she felt a flash of annoyance as she glanced at Legolas. He looked nowhere near to the untidiness of his wife and it bothered her that she should look so vile while not a hair on his head was out of place.

"Hold!" Velia suddenly commanded, holding a hand up. She smiled at Ziendriel, then turned to Legolas. "Would you like to assist your babe into the world, your Highness?" she asked.

This startled the prince. "May I?" he questioned, clearly surprised. When the seasoned Healer nodded, he stepped close beside her and glanced down. The calm face that had dominated his face suddenly faltered as he saw his child's head emerging from the birth canal. Velia hid her smirk as she looked at the flabbergasted prince.

"Your Highness?" she prompted, nudging his side.

Legolas blinked, then glanced at her. "Uh, oh," he stammered, then nervously looked at his wife. Through her exhaustion he could see the amusement in her eyes and blushed. "What must I do?" he asked.

Velia smiled, then proceeded to guide him through the necessary steps. The child was born moments later, with its father trying hard not to pass out on the floor at such an experience.

END FLASHBACK

Ariel giggled. "Lorith made the mistake of asking him about once," she said. "He got a mighty bruise on his arm for his troubles."

Ziendriel smiled. "Legolas tried hard not to faint," she said. "But, in the end the birthing proved to be too much for my war-hardened husband." She broke into giggles again and was joined by her sister.

Lilia smiled at the sight of her daughters laughing. "Come, no more teasing the prince while he is not here," she scolded, but failed miserably to appear stern, for her smile refused to wipe away. "The sun will soon set and these children need baths."

At the mention of the "b-word" as Lìre called it, all three children screamed and took off running into the maze. Ariel groaned and turned to her mother. "I told you not to say that word in front of the children!" she told her.

Ziendriel laughed. "I will help you," she offered, knowing the evening meal would not be for awhile. Erundil was still with his tutors and would later be taken care of by Tiri, so she had no pressing matters at the moment. She was not eager to return to the stormy disposition of her husband as of yet, and being with her sister, mother and niece and nephews did wonders for her troubled heart. It pushed the thought of impending danger to the back of her mind, where she hoped it would remain as such.

"I did not see you at dinner."

The sudden statement startled Ziendriel as she sat by the window brushing her hair, staring out into the night. Her brush dropped to the floor as she whirled around on her seat. Legolas stood in the doorway of their bedchambers, illuminated in the light of the lamps that burned softly as he stared at her with the calmness of a still pond in his eyes. She watched as he closed the door behind him and stepped further into the room. He still wore the tunic and leggings she had last seen him in that day, but his clothes suggested at his exhaustion.

"I visited my sister after you left and she invited me to stay for the meal," she answered, softly. She bent down to pick up her brush, the hem of her simple nightdress grazing the floor. She walked over to her side of the bed and laid the brush on the nearby table. "I trust Erundil was there?" she asked.

Legolas nodded, watching her slide under the covers. "Ate more than his fair share, I believe," he answered, smiling a little as he heard her soft laughter. He took a hesitant step forward, then stopped. "Ziendriel," he said, softly. "Melamin, amin hiraetha (I am sorry)." He bowed his head. "I did not mean to speak such harsh words to you," he added.

Ziendriel climbed out of bed and quickly walked over to him. "Dina, a'maelamin (Be silent, beloved)," she whispered to him, placing a gentle hand to his face. "There are no need for apologies for no damage has been done." She lightly kissed his lips, then smiled softly at him.

He pressed his forehead to hers, an action they had adopted as their own through their years together. "Will I ever forget?" he whispered, running his fingers over one of her wrists, as his free arm circled her waist.

"In time," she whispered back, watching as his fingers ran repeatedly over the sensitive skin. She had been more surprised than anyone when she had discovered the scars there, as well as on her ankles had disappeared, leaving no mark. It had puzzled the Healers, for those had been most severe. Her burned hand had healed as well, and showed no evidence of its previous infliction.

Legolas gently scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he gently laid her down, he whispered, "Help me forget, Ziendriel." He kissed her gently, brushing his lips across her mouth.

She gently cupped his face with her hands and returned his kisses. "Always," she told him, softly.