Chapter 21: Like a clear night with no stars

Glad the conversation had finally shifted away from how foolish she had looked when carried in last week, and how mortified the others would have been to be brought in slung over the back of a horse like a dead hart, Zairil looked out the small window, gazing longingly at the courtyard below.

She nearly smiled when two blond elves bowed their heads slightly in her direction, before facing each other and taking up a fighting stance. She watched them carefully, taking in every movement, mentally shaking her head at their mistakes, so absorbed by every turn and twist, every flash of metal and hair, that she was unaware of the utter silence that had befallen the room. Unaware of someone asking her questions.

"Lady Zairil?"

The fact that it was a male voice finally drew her attention, and she slowly forced her eyes from the match to see who had addressed her. Golden hair and sapphire eyes waited for her. Instantly she lowered her eyes, bowing her head slightly. "Yes, your highness?" she asked quietly.

Thranduil frowned. This wasn't the child he remembered. Her eyes had been silver or stormy, not a dull grey. She had shown him respect, but she had also treated him as another elf, not a being so beyond her she couldn't even look at him. She had treated him as the elf he was to her—the father of her best friend. "Zairil," he frowned, before reaching out to touch her chin, forcing her eyes up. "Look at me, little girl."

Her eyes lifted, widening slightly when he called her little girl. Her eyes searched his, seeing the same parental concern she could remember from so many adventures with Legolas and Angolar that it made her heart ache. A single tear slid down her cheek, only to be brushed away just as it would have been back then, or if it were his second son sitting across from her.

Thranduil watched her eyes shift slightly, a little hint of the old fire appearing with the tear. "What is so fascinating in the courtyard?" he asked, looking for himself, only to see an empty expanse of stone and waiting weaponry.

"Sometimes… sometimes they spar there."

"Who?"

"Angolar and…" she lowered her head again.

"Why would they do that?" he asked, knowing well who the other elf would be.

"Because… because they know…"

Thranduil sighed wearily. Because they know that to watch is all she has left. He reached out again, putting his hand atop her head, before following her hair to her shoulder, where he squeezed gently. "I want you to go to your room and wait to be sent for," he murmured quietly. He offered her a small smile when she looked up. "Go on, little girl."

He watched her smile slightly when he called her little girl, and wondered at the reason behind the weak gesture. She nodded and slowly walked past him, the liveliness to her movements all but gone. "Lady Zeria," he murmured softly. "You will present yourself in my study in twenty minutes time."

He left the room, thinking hard as he made for his study.

"Ada? If you keep thinking so hard you're going to sprain something."

He managed a small smile, but motioned Enseir along with him. With a nod to his companions, Enseir joined him, remaining silent until they were in his study. "Enseir…"

"Yes, Ada?"

"You know of Zairil."

Enseir smiled faintly. "How could I not? I don't think a single elf living in the halls doesn't know of her, or Angolar."

"What have you seen of her, of late?"

The merry light in the crowned prince's eyes died swiftly. "She is not what she was. Her… strength, her fire, her spirit is dwindling. She lives to explore, to laugh, to sing. To play with her friends and learn that which interests her. While those interests are somewhat unconventional for one of her gender, it suits her, and endears her all the more to her friends, and those who see her enthusiasm for life. All of that," Enseir shook his head with a sigh, "is leaving her. Now she is almost as a ghost, slipping around unnoticed, doing her best to be unseen, but in a manner different than those times most remember."

"Your opinion of the cause?"

Enseir lifted a brow. "I would think that as obvious as the fact she now wears dresses rather than Angolar's old clothes."

Thranduil sighed, looking gravely at his desk before sitting back in his chair. "Yes. Why did Legolas say nothing before now?"

"What was he to say, Ada? That his friend's mother was trying to teach her to be a lady?"

"Her mother is hardly—" Thranduil bit his tongue, glad that somehow his children had learned tact. It certainly hadn't come from either of their parents. He winced slightly. "Her mother is coming to speak with me, on my request. I want you to fetch Zairil from her room, if you would, and then send Legolas to me as well."

Enseir lifted a brow. "An interesting… and combustible combination. Legolas was nearly beside himself when they returned from their… disastrous ride."

Thranduil chuckled softly. "Believe me, I know. He has my father's fire, when he defends his friends."

Enseir chuckled as well, recalling the time he had spent trying to calm his younger brother. "Thankfully he is not quick to anger… at least, not to that point. Shall I go now?" he asked, as the sound of the door leading to this section of the halls opening reached his ears.

"Yes. Do not hurry to find Legolas, as he will likely hurry himself. I would rather they arrive around the same time."

Enseir had to smile. "I wish to know what happens, as I've no doubt my presence is neither requested nor desired."

Thranduil smiled slightly. "You can ask your brother."

Enseir groaned, rolling his eyes. "He clams up whenever it's about his friends, as well you know!"

"Yes—they've had far too much practice!" he agreed, laughing as he recalled several stunts which were half forgotten.

"Except recently," Enseir sighed, before bowing his head. "Ada," he paused almost to the door. "Though more troublesome when together," he murmured, "they are disturbing when they are not, like a clear night with no stars."

"I agree," Thranduil murmured, before calling for the one knocking to enter. "Be swift," he added, mentally scowling at the small smile that touched Enseir's lips at the addition. "Take a seat," he offered, looking at the Lady Zeria.

She fluttered a bit before seating herself daintily on the edge of the chair. "May I ask what purpose there is to this meeting?" Zeria asked quietly.

Thranduil considered his words carefully, and then abruptly decided to throw tact to the wind. He wasn't all that good at it, anyway. "The approaching death of your daughter."

Zeria blinked. "My daughter is fine… surely she has not angered you?" she lifted her eyes.

He found himself glad Zairil's eyes weren't that same shade of light grey-blue. That shade was beginning to annoy him. "Zairil has long been one of my favorite subjects. Even at the risk of it getting back to them, the things she and her cousin did with my son have long been a source of amusement."

"A lady should not—"

"And who are you to say what a lady should and shouldn't do?" he broke in quietly. "Zairil is a lady. She will never be anything else. She has the curiosity and courage, the thirst for knowing what is just around the corner that all elves should strive for. That she and Legolas share that is something that has always pleased me—such spirit needs a kindred, to help, to defend, to protect it so it may grow and spread, rather than be trampled down by expectations."

"Zairil should not—"

"Zairil is young," he murmured softly. "Not even a thousand. Nor has Legolas yet reached that age. If she enjoys sparring, riding, hunting, and exploring, then why should she not do so? Legolas and Angolar are with her—they are both warriors, even at their tender age. She was a warrior, as well."

"My daughter is not—"

"She was," he interrupted again. "She isn't now, only because her strength is so sapped from being forced into a sedentary life that she hates that she probably couldn't empty a quiver of arrows, though I have known her to use over a hundred in a short time. There is nothing wrong with her being a warrior."

"No lady is a warrior."

Thranduil lifted a brow. "What then, of Galadriel? The highest lady yet among the elves of Middle-Earth… but as a warrior, is she then not a lady?" He sat back as her eyes darkened mutinously. "If you will not listen to reason, then hear my command—you will stop killing your daughter."

"I am doing no such thing!"

"Then how is she on the verge of fading, when hundreds of mischievous years found her with but a few dozen minor injuries?" The sound of the outer door opening cut in on his argument. One of them had arrived a bit more quickly than he expected. He got up, moving a curtain in the corner of the room, indicating for Zeria to sit there. "Don't say a word, and be glad your actions have so upset my son he will not sense that it is you." The curtains moved back to its previous place, leaving a thumb's width between the flaps for the person behind to see. It sometimes housed a guard, which was why he expected Legolas to brush off the presence, if he wasn't too agitated to notice it at all. He returned to his seat, ignoring the curtain as he always did. "It is open."

Zairil entered slowly. Watching her now, he could see how painfully thin she had become. Legolas' words about her eating habits were a clear understatement. Before he could speak, the door opened once more, and confident steps drew up to the door, which was slightly ajar from Zairil's silent entrance. "You wished to see me, Ada?" Legolas asked, pausing when he saw Zairil. He lifted questioning eyes to his father after letting them flash in fury over her state.

"Close the door, Legolas." He waited until the door was closed to continue. "Can you bring Zairil back?"

"I am right here, your highness," Zairil frowned faintly.

"No, you aren't." He looked up at his son.

"Ada?"

"Well?"

Legolas moved forward a step, but then stopped. He took a deep breath, and tilted his head at his friend. "Zai?"

"What is it, Legolas?"

"No," Legolas shook his head, moving closer. He tilted her head up. "No. Who am I?"

"You are Legolas, second son of the king."

"No. Who am I?"

"A Prince of Greenwood," she insisted, frowning.

"No. Who am I?" he insisted, his tone becoming more commanding. The dull grey of her eyes seemed almost to tremble. "Who am I, Zai? Who?"

"Leaf," she breathed, before she shook her head and stepped back, her eyes closing. Her features calmed, her eyes opening to show the same dull grey. "What do you want with me, Prince Legolas?"

Legolas took a deep breath, his spine stiffening so he was drawn a bit away from her for that moment of disappointment. "I want you back."

"I am before you."

"Not truly," he murmured. "I do not see the friend I had. The one who cut her hair and unknowingly may have saved our lives by leaving it to the wind. The one who senses darkness approaching and keeps us from harm. The one who teases me, calls me prince-ling. The one who depends on me to guide her horse as she shoots down our foes. The one who trusts me enough to sleep in a heap with me, Angolar and the twins." He took a step forward, close enough then to touch her. "The one who wriggles through tunnels that make me claustrophobic, and calls back with a laugh when she has found the end. The one who always found something to joke about, to sing, or to laugh about." He stopped, reaching up to brush away the tears traveling down her pale cheeks. "I want her back."

"She can't come back," Zairil murmured in a wobbly voice, shaking her head and taking a wavering half-step back. "She can't, or she shall be destroyed entirely, as you were warned."

He clenched his jaw, stepping up to her again. "No," he declared, his hands curling tightly over her shoulders. "I don't care what I have to do, I won't let that happen. You will not fade away! Do you hear me, Zairil?"

"I'm not going to," she stated calmly, masked behind those blank, dull eyes.

"Stop it!" He shook her. "I want you back," he pleaded, resting his forehead against hers. "I need you back. Please, Zai. It's not the same without you along. Angolar and I get bored. I have no one to share the sights and senses with. Elladan and Elrohir don't know what to think about Greenwood, since without you nothing is of interest to them, either. They've talked about kidnapping you to Imladris just so you can become yourself again. Perhaps I'll assist them, and run away myself."

Her eyes sparkled silver for a long moment, before starting to fade once more.

"No, please? Please, little orc-ling, please… stay with me." He kissed her forehead, holding her even more tightly.

It was the glint of silver betraying the presence of a clear drop of liquid escaping darkened sapphire eyes that got to her, forced her to break down all the walls against the reality around her she had been constructing so hopelessly since her mother began in earnest this campaign to make her a real lady. She reached up, brushing it aside. His eyes snapped to hers, searching for her. He held her tighter and let out a sigh when he found her.

"Praise Valar," he breathed, stepping slightly back to tug her hair.

"But, Leaf… how can I… if I am forced to go back to doing nothing, I'm going to start…"

"I know," he murmured, turning to see his father. He blinked for a moment, seeing an odd mix of anger, concern, and pride on his sire's face. "Ada?"

"I will see that Zairil's life is not endangered by her mother again," Thranduil promised.

Zairil suddenly backed up, unthinkingly stepping into Legolas. "You aren't sending me to my father, are you?"

Thranduil lifted a brow, before shaking his head. "And have Legolas moping around more than he has been? I think not. Off with you now. You look like you could use a good meal." Zairil looked down at herself and then back up at him. He smiled, understanding. "I hereby order you to be yourself. Understood?"

"Yes, sire," she smiled, her eyes sparkling as she studied his face as she always did at such times.

"Legolas, after your meal, see if Carith has something she can wear until something proper can be fitted."

"Yes, Ada," Legolas smiled, laughter and joy building in his eyes as he looked down at Zairil. "Come on, Zai. We have to sneak up on Angolar and the twins."

"Just a moment," she murmured, pulling a dagger from his waist. His eyes widened fractionally, before a laugh escaped him. Thranduil lifted a brow, somewhat concerned, but merely blinked when Zairil gathered her long hair behind her.

"Here," Legolas murmured, taking the dagger and holding it between his teeth. He took the gathered hair, tying it with the cord that had been holding back his own hair, and then sliced the dagger through the dark gold mass, holding it up as proof of his efforts when Zairil turned slightly. She smiled faintly as she ran her fingers through her cropped hair, and nodded, before turning to leave. Legolas looked at the hair in his hands, tied it in a knot, and left it on the desk before joining her.

Once the doors closed, Thranduil turned to the curtain. Zeria slowly exited, looking at the hair her daughter had divested herself of so eagerly. "I… didn't know she hated it so."

"How could you not? You forced her to do and be everything she despises. My orders to her hold, and not for my son."

"They are truly… good friends, aren't they?"

"Zairil is good friends with the four of them. Should you not be happy with that? She calls a prince and two young lords her friends. Many would be quite proud merely of that, no matter their blood."

Zeria slowly nodded, her eyes flickering with unreadable shadows for a long moment.