Disclaimer: I do not own Hobbit, this story is not for profit, everything belongs to Tolkien.

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Chapter 21

One evening Thranduil sat in his study, trying to squeeze in some time for himself in-between time with the triplets and matters of state. Relaxing into an easy posture, he crossed his legs and poured himself a glass of wine from the pitcher on the table beside him. The King of Mirkwood had barely taken two sips of his drink when there was a knock at the door.

"What is it?" He growled.

Whoever was at the door hesitated a moment, obviously not sure if they should go on. It appeared that procedure won out over fear, for there was then a small male voice that squeaked, "Letters, my lord!"

Thranduil sighed. Putting his glass down he went over to open the door and quickly grab the letters from the terrified page standing outside before then slamming the heavy oak door in his face.

The glass of wine by the fire must wait. Reading and answering letters was one of his most important duties as King; it was vital in order to maintain diplomacy and peace. Although Laurwen liked to tease him by saying that he was the least diplomatic king she had ever known, and maybe to some extent she was right, he had managed to keep his realm and his people out of trouble for a very long time.

And also, he still hoped every time any messages were delivered that there would be something in there from Coruven. It had been years since he had heard from his youngest son; the last time a letter had come from somewhere south, saying that he was fine, and then after that nothing. Thranduil was sure the boy was fine, the lad was an excellent archer and, after all, what was a few years in the life of an elf? But he missed the lad all the same. He shuffled through the letters hurriedly, scanning to see if there was anything from Coruven, but he stopped when he came across a letter that was, wonder of wonders, addressed not to him, but to Laurwen.

It was from her brother. Again.

Would the man not give it up? He couldn't help but think angrily. Laurwen was married now, married to him, and queen of Mirkwood. There was no sense in him trying to keep on reaching her like this.

But even as he thought it in his heart, Thranduil knew that was not true. But truly he had no choice. Unlike the last time, Thranduil did not even bother to open this letter. He simply walked straight over to the fire and threw the unread letter into the flames.

…

Esteldes and Rumon had recently moved into a new suite for just the two of them, and I had spent the whole day while Rumon was away with Esteldes helping her decorate and tidy the place up. We had managed to do the decorating part quite well, but as for the tidying up I was afraid we made the place messier than it was when we started. I had left her home in the evening breathless with laughter as the two of us imagined Rumon's normally stoic face when he suddenly came home to the disaster that was his new home.

My face still red and breathless, I made my way into my chambers. I was taking my gloves off when I noticed that Thranduil was already here.

"Oh, hello." I said surprised, and a little embarrassed at how red my face was and how disheveled my hair was. "How was your day?"

"Very nice," he said quietly.

As he came towards me and took my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm, I smiled up at him. Things had been very good between us lately; better then ever. Putting my hand on his neck, I started to pull him down to kiss me on the lips, but he stopped me before I could.

Putting his hand on my chin, he stared at me in way that was very disconcerting. I felt like he was trying very hard to tell me something with his eyes, or, perhaps, trying very hard to not tell me something.

I was sure he must have seen my brows furrow in confusion, for he stopped me before I could finish asking him if something was wrong to kiss me again.

Both of his hands were on my face as he kissed me long and deeply. At first I could hear my heart fluttering, and then, when I paused to take a breath and then gently bite his lower lip, I could hear his fluttering as well.

"What was that for?" I blinked.

"Nothing."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Nothing?"

"I just love you, is all."

"As I love you."

"Always?" He asked, a sudden pleading note in voice made me take a moment before answering. I stared into his deep blue eyes, but could find nothing there.

"I will always love you." I said.

"Good."

"Thranduil, may I ask you about something?" He had put his arm around me and was now walking us toward the balcony. Outside there were birds singing and a light wind blowing.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering…if you would tell me a little…"

He laughed at my anxiousness, not realizing the sobering subject which I longed to bring up. "Go on Laurwen, I've been married to you long enough to not be shocked anymore at the things that come out of your mouth."

I didn't look at him. "I want to ask you about your wife. Your first one, that is."

He paused. "You've never asked about her before. I always assumed you didn't care, or weren't curious."

"Oh, no," I whispered. "I care very much. I was always afraid to ask."

Finally, I met his gaze. He smiled somewhat grimly, and there were lines around his eyes. "I'm still afraid to ask, to be quite honest."

"Well," he said, taking my hands, and then, to my surprise, pulling me down onto his lap in one of the chairs, "you needn't have been. I would have told you."

"You would? Well, even so, I feared you would not wish to speak of it…"

"It's true. I don't like speaking of it. Or at least, I didn't. But I will tell you of her now." He paused and took a deep breath. I understood that he was gathering his thoughts, about to embark on the difficult task of retelling a personal tragedy that still hurts years after the fact.

"She was beautiful. I never knew her as a child; we met when I was a ellon and she a young elleth. She was also Silvan, her hair and eyes similar to mine and Legolas and Coruven's. We were married for a long time, and she gave me two beautiful sons, for which I will forever be indebted to her."

"Are they much like her?"

"Yes, I think. Perhaps in different ways. Legolas has her skill and her sense of adventure. Coruven…her sensitivity perhaps. She felt things very deeply, but kept them bottled up inside. She was quite solemn. And very clever."

For a while after that we were silent, as he held me tight in his arms, but my unspoken question was burning like fire between us.

"No," he whispered. "I didn't love her. I had no idea you were curious about her. If you had asked me, perhaps I could have told you all of this and saved you some sleepless nights. Alas, I can only unburden you now Laurwen."

"Why didn't you love her?" At this point I had no idea whether to laugh or to cry.

"I don't know. Who can ever know why we love some and not others? She seemed perfect for me, and I for her. She was of noble birth, we were of a similar age, we married once and believed ourselves to be in love. We got along well for a while, but there was no passionate love between us. Elves marry once, Laurwen. Only once. We make the right decision the first time. For years and years I would not admit to myself that my wife and I were not right for each other. How could I make this kind of mistake?"

I spoke quietly, afraid of what must come next. "What happened to her?"

He sighed, and I saw that several years was not enough to heal him of the grief and regret that he felt from this still. "I didn't understand her. She wanted to travel, to visit, to fight. I couldn't understand any of that. You know how I am, Laurwen. Who could want to get involved in the affairs outside of Mirkwood? I was quite content at home. She grew quiet, we began to scarcely speak to each other. And she…she looked at me sometimes like I was…like she despised me. No, worse than that. That I had somehow disappointed her in some way. One day she finally left in secret, without my consent. She left to go fight and she didn't come back to Mirkwood alive."

We had nothing to say to each other for a while after that. I finally realized that I must be the one to speak first. "I'm sorry Thranduil."

He squeezed my hand, but did not say anything, still lost in thought. I went on, "You feel guilty, don't you? That's why you never spoke of her?"

"I suppose so. It's partially my fault that she's dead, Laurwen."

Many would probably have protested to make him feel better, and perhaps I should have, but I did not. It was partially his fault, even though I did not think he should feel guilty about it.

"But one good thing came out of the tragedy," he said, "The next time I met a girl who I knew could be my queen, I followed my heart, and not my brain, and I've been quite happy with the decision thus far."

…

To my delight, we made the trip to Rivendell now that the boys were finally old enough to behave. Many from Mirkwood made the trip with us, including Esteldes and Rumon who regarded it as a honeymoon of sorts.

One never forgets one's first sight of Rivendell. It was positively the most beautiful place that I had ever seen. Thranduil scowled when he saw how impressed I was by it.

Elrond and his company were waiting outside for us when we arrived. He took my hands and we greeted each other like old friends, while Thranduil and he exchanged polite bows.

Elrond's twin sons were there to greet us as well, and Thranduil hastily said, "Allow me to introduce you, Lord Elrond, to my triplets, Wrane, Klirion, and Oriphar."

I rolled my eyes at his shameless display of bravado, but Elrond simply laughed and shook hands with them each.

"Fine young boys, the both of them. With such parents as these, who knows what they may accomplish?"

….

We stayed in Rivendell for three months. While we were there I met Elrond's daughter Arwen. She was a beautiful girl, although I did really not care for her much.

Elrond provided all sorts of entertainments for us all on our trip. He had grand feasts held and shows and performances from the best of his people. One night, after we had just listened to some beautiful singing, Thranduil, to my horror, leaned back in his chair, and holding his wineglass said, "You have very fine entertainers, Elrond. But I think Mirkwood must be said to best you when it comes to music."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, as did many others, no doubt. "I have never heard, Lord Thranduil, that Mirkwood had any music other than the screams of wanderers who are lost in its forests at night."

Thranduil, to his credit, did not even get a little red. Indeed, he seemed rather smug. "Oh yes, Elrond. Have you not heard? My queen is the most talented of all musicians, elf or human."

I pinched him hard under the table, but he took my hand and squeezed it. Of course after that they would not let me leave the table until I agreed to play. By no means was I as good as their own musicians, but I played decently and I saw genuine pleasure on their faces when I was finished.

Later that evening as Thranduil and I climbed into bed I reprimanded him for saying that I played better than any of them. "It's a good thing I didn't mess up or I would have looked very foolish indeed. I can't believe you told them that I was better."

For a moment he looked very confused. "But you are better."

I embraced him for that, so happy was I that I was loved by someone who sometimes couldn't see fault in me.