(Author's Note: I gotta be real guys, I feel like this chapter is kind of sloppy and not good, but I have no idea what exactly is wrong with it or what to do to make it better. I just have a bad feel, ya know? But I'm posting it, in hopes that you will like it anyway. ;) If you don't though, feel free to leave a review with some (nice) writing advice!)

Miridian woke up that morning in the comfort of the King's bed. It was warm and very peaceful; a nice way to greet a new day. She heard the soft sounds of Thranduil's breathing and concluded that it must be very early, for he was still asleep. She looked at him. He was so beautiful, and he was even more perfect in slumber. His long blonde hair covered his chest as it slowly rose and fell with each breath. Miridian smiled to herself and cuddled up to him.

She could not help but feel bad about the previous night. She did not know exactly why, but she couldn't shake the feeling. Of course she loved Thranduil and wanted to give him all of her, but everything was happening so fast… Miridian had become afraid. She was inexperienced and she did not know quite what to expect. However, she was very thankful that the King was patient and forgiving, and it made her love him even more.

As Miridian laid her head on Thranduil's chest, she felt him stirring. She sat up and he inhaled deeply before opening his eyes.

"Good morning," greeted Miridian. Thranduil smiled at her.

"Good morning," he replied.

"I like your bed," Miridian said with a smile. "It is soft and you are warm. I hope I did not inhibit your sleep."

"No," Thranduil answered. "I am glad it pleases you." He sat up and looked into Miridian's eyes. "Do you always look so beautiful in the morning?"

Miridian blushed and looked away, smiling. Thranduil smirked and leaned over to kiss her. She rested her hands on his chest, his hair falling in between her fingers. When he let go, Miridian kissed him again.

"I must apologize for last night," she said, after releasing Thranduil from the kiss.

"Veleth nin, you have nothing to apologize for," he replied, leaving the bed to fetch his robes. "I will wait for you as long as I must." Miridian couldn't help but smile to herself. She hopped out of the bed as well.

"I should return to my father," she said. "I believe he has your final sword ready."

"I will be glad to receive it," Thranduil replied, giving her a smile. Miridian started to leave, but then remembered something as she felt the cold white gems bounce against her chest. She turned around.

"Thranduil…thank you for the necklace," she said. "It is beautiful."

"Fit for a beautiful lady," he replied as he pulled his robes over his shoulders. Miridian smiled and slowly snuck out the door, careful not to be seen by anyone as she left the palace.

…

Miridian stopped by the stream before entering her home, to bring water to her father as she was sure he was working very hard. She found Dragolith in the dining room, eating a large piece of bread with butter. He smiled when he saw her and wiped his mouth with a hankerchief, standing up from his chair.

"Ah, my lovely daughter," he greeted. "What have you been up to? How fares the King?" Miridian smiled at him and set the sturdy leaf pouch full of water on the table.

"He fares well," she replied. "I meant to tell you Father; I aided the dwarves in their escape a few days ago." Dragolith's eyes lit up.

"They have escaped? They are on their way to Erebor?"

"Yes!" Miridian answered with enthusiasm. "But…the hobbit—" Miridian stopped herself as she felt the ring in her pocket. Perhaps it was best not to tell her father about the ring. She did not know why, but she had a feeling that she should keep it to herself. "—He helped as well. The King does not know that it was me who released them…and I feel rather guilty, for I do not wish to lie to him."

Dragolith put his hand on Miridian's arm in comfort, unable to reach her shoulder.

"You have done the right thing," he said. "That is most important."

"Yes I know," Miridan replied tentatively. "But I do not like picking sides."

"I know," Dragolith chuckled. "You always used to tell me and your mother when you were young that we were both right when an argument arose." Miridian smiled to herself.

"Miridian," Dragolith began, changing the subject. "I have been working very hard, and I have completed the King's last sword…as well as a few other things."

"Other things?" Miridian inquired. Dragolith smiled slightly and entered his workshop beside his bedroom, coming out with Thranduil's sword, another sword, and two breastplates fitted for a man and a woman.

"These are for the King," Dragolith stated, handing Miridian Thranduil's sword and the male breastplate. She took them. "And this sword, and this plate…they are for you."

"For me? Oh father…" Miridian started, but trailed off. She did not know what to say. Her father must have worked very hard, for breastplates took a great deal of time to produce for one silversmith.

"Should the dragon Smaug break free and ravage the woodlands, I want you to be prepared. Do you remember I used to train you in sword combat when you were a child?"

"Yes," Miridan replied, studying her sword and breastplate. They both had her initials on them: MF. "Oh father, thank you!" Miridian threw her arms around him and she felt him smile. "I was wondering why you were working so long on one sword." Dragolith laughed.

"Now I hope you remember what I taught you," he said.

"Of course," Miridian replied.

Dragolith had taught Miridian to wield a sword as soon as she had come of age to do so. He believed it important, especially since it had been the time of turmoil in Erebor. However, she had never killed anything; she hadn't needed to. She feared the day—if one should ever come—when she would need to use a sword. Although she knew how to fight, she was not sure she would have the courage.

But the sword Dragolith had crafted for her was beautiful. It was of elvish tradition, like the ones he had made for King Thranduil. Miridian marveled at how it shone in the light, and she thanked her father once again.

"It was my pleasure, dear daughter," he replied. "I expect the King is treating you kindly?"

"Oh yes, he is very kind to me," Miridian gushed. "I…I think I love him, Father." Dragolith looked at Miridian and his mouth turned up in a smile. He put his hand on hers.

"Is this true?" he asked. "Could my daughter be in love?" Miridian blushed, and looked at the ground.

"Yes," she whispered. Dragolith looked intently at her.

"Love is a wonderful thing, Miridian," he said seriously. "I am overjoyed that you have come to experience it. Do not waste it."

"I won't Father," Miridian replied.

…

"My lord, there is a disturbance in Laketown."

Thranduil looked down at the palace guard with authority as he sat upon his throne, his chin up.

"What sort of disturbance?" asked the King.

"The dwarves of Erebor. They have taken refuge there, and are causing a bit of unrest. I believe we could retrieve them if several elven Guards were to go after them." Thranduil was silent for a moment.

"Very well," he said. He held his hand up and waved the palace guard away. Thranduil stood up from his throne and began walking down the corridors of the palace, headed for the exit so he could ask the guards where his son had gone.

As Thranduil passed the Great Hall, he spotted Legolas standing in front of the small fountain. Thranduil entered and Legolas turned around when he heard him. His expression hardened.

"I need to speak with you," Thranduil said. Legolas glared at him, and Thranduil hid puzzlement.

"Well I need to speak with you," he replied. "Why did I see her come from your chambers this morning?"

At first Thranduil was confused, but then he realized that Legolas was referring to Miridian.

"Yes," he said calmly. "What business is it of yours?"

"Why do you act that way with her? Why do you appear to care about nothing else when she is present?" Thranduil did not understand why Legolas wanted to speak of Miridian. He had never seemed bothered by her before.

"For the same reason you do with Tauriel—"

"—Do not try to compare this with Tauriel and I!" Legolas raised his voice. Thranduil widened his eyes. Legolas seemed very angry all of the sudden. "You treat her like you love her…you never treated anyone else that way. You never even treated your own son that way." Thranduil kept a straight face although he felt a painful tug in his heart.

"My affairs with Miridian are none of your concern," he said, turning from Legolas to pour himself a glass of wine. "I don't understand why you are so upset."

"You seem to care for no one, and then you suddenly show affection for her? She seems so kind; you should not make her think you care about her," Legolas remarked bitterly. Thranduil furrowed his brow and turned to Legolas.
"I do care about her," he retorted, a stern expression on his face.

"Do you love her?"

"That is none of your concern!"

"Of course not, you've never loved anything!" Legolas yelled. Thranduil widened his eyes at Legolas and his nostrils flared as he exhaled in frustration.

"That is not true," he said. Legolas glared at his father for a moment, and looked down at the ground as if he was thinking about something. He raised his head and looked at Thranduil very seriously.

"Is it because she looks like my mother?" he asked.

Thranduil took the glass he held and threw it hard at the wall behind Legolas in anger. It shattered and the pieces scattered around the floor.

"How dare you?!" he exclaimed, pain filling his heart. Legolas was a bit surprised at his father's sudden violence, but it did not deter him from his upset.

"You must have noticed she looks exactly like my mother; everything about her! You never speak of her, tell me why! You have never shown the least of affection for anyone your entire life and then you throw it all onto this pathetic village she-elf?!"

"There is a reason I never speak of your mother!" Thranduil said. "But I do not have to disclose it to you. This argument is over! I do not understand where your outburst of anger came from, but I will not see it again, do you understand?"

"You didn't even love my mother did you?" Thranduil turned away from Legolas and looked at the floor, trying very hard to keep the wetness in his eyes from overflowing. He exhaled slowly, anger and sadness burning inside of him.

"I loved her more than anything," he replied quietly. Legolas said nothing. A long silence passed between them and Thranduil brought his head back up.

"I am sending you and Tauriel to Laketown this afternoon," he said. "The dwarves have settled there and you need to bring them back."