Thanks to all the lovelies who left reviews encouraging me to write on! TierneyMacDonald, Enchanted Stream, Bowser, camimac, meldisil, Lotrfn, RaleighLane, CarelessMisBehavior, Zip001, CharitinaX, winter1990, firerosedreamer67, ElvenprincessCher, Starfilledskies, welliegirl16, Roberta Lozano, emilialozano el, AdalineXC, Frostyhorse, Wunderkind4006, Thistle1000, LucindaSilver, crazykenz, Mirkwood Warrior, Tinuviel, Bummed out, and Kyuun.

Love you All!

One day after Yule, 3018

Thranduil stared at her for what seemed a very long time, so long in fact, that Narylfiel was very glad that he had dismissed his guards from the throne room.

At last he spoke, rising from his throne, "So what I hear you saying is that Huredhiel believes you're healed?"

Narylfiel beamed. "That's right," she said. "All better."

In less than three seconds, Thranduil was down the stairs, and by the fourth second, she was in his arms. "This is wonderful news." He fiercely kissed the top of her head, and then repeated himself. "Wonderful news!" His voice echoed through the rest of the empty cavern.

"I'm pretty happy about it," Narylfiel said nonchalantly, peering up at him though her long lashes.

He beamed right back at her. Thranduil—beaming. It was glorious and almost a little unsettling.

"I'm thinking we should celebrate," he announced, taking her hands in his, with an expression that was both charming and more than a little naughty.

Narylfiel's breath caught. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Thranduil smiled again. Pure bliss. "The better question, dearest, is how fast can we get there?"

...A few minutes later...

"You were right," Narylfiel said and moaned.

Thranduil met her eyes and licked his lips. "Delicious."

"Best idea ever," she agreed and lifted another berry tart, warm and flaky, to her lips.

Laughing, Thranduil pulled her into his lap and kissed the powdered sugar from her mouth.

"I didn't mean just the berry tarts," he said with a wicked glance around the empty kitchen. The fire from the oven crackled pleasantly and the heady smell of sugar mixed with the evergreen garlands still left hanging from Yule. As the king lowered his head to taste her lips again, he decided it was a very good thing that all his kitchen staff had left the room.

March 6th, 3019

Two months had passed since Yule, since the night Narylfiel and Thranduil had bonded, married. In those two months, the forest had softened from the harsh white freeze to a temperate thaw—the snow gave way to bare patches, then to soft green fronds and curls of new grass peeking up through the dark soil.

Two months had passed since Yule, and Narylfiel gloried in the hush of the long nights she spent in Thranduil's arms. The days kept them both busy enough, endless meetings for Thranduil, organizing and planning strategies for when the spring came and the enemy rallied its forces once more to strike; and for Narylfiel, preparation and training, more lessons on deportment, learning how to assist in the day to day running of the king's household and court. Truthfully, most days she longed to be back on patrol with the Forest Guard, but oh, those nights—those nights more than made up for the mind-numbing dullness of Rhivenion's speeches concerning etiquette.

Two months had passed since Yule, and new buds began to lace the trees in Mirkwood in shades of green, and the river ran again, and with it, death. The enemy stirred in Dol Guldur, slowly, scouts reported at first, sending runners south and east over the Misty Mountains. Then three days ago, before the ice finally broke on the river, orc troops marched steadily from the ruined fortress. A village on the outer banks burned to the ground. War had come.

The day started early enough. Thranduil was summoned abruptly from bed hours before dawn. Narylfiel felt him press a kiss to her cheek as he pulled the coverlet up and tucked it around her bare shoulder before he quietly quit the room. She did not see him again until much later that morning after breakfast, which he conspicuously missed. And there was no point in asking why or where he had disappeared; Narylfiel did not have to ask—she knew. The scouts had returned, and Thranduil had sent word to his captains to ready their troops. It was all anybody spoke of in the halls or kitchens or at the fairly deserted breakfast table. This day, well, this day had been looming over the entire realm for so long, and now it had arrived. The Woodland Realm would see its army off to defend its lands, livelihood, people. Narylfiel and Thranduil had spent many long hours discussing and planning for when he would finally call the army out to defend the borders of their homeland; she knew her role well, knew how to face the lonely dawn by hurrying to the kitchens to oversee the last packing up of provisions for the supply wagons. She checked with housekeeping to see if the extra rolls of bandages she and the other ladies had spent their time making were tucked into the medical supplies, but all the while, her thoughts were with Thranduil. He would be leaving soon, and it was all she could do to make herself pay attention to the tasks at hand. As soon as she finished looking over the final supply wagon, she headed straight toward her husband's study, hoping to find him there. Sadly, Narylfiel found the king's study empty, his maps of the forest that had been scattered across his desk, rolled up and put away, the hearth, cold. After some looking and a pointed question or two to Galadhor, Narylfiel located her husband at the armory next to the barracks where the Forest Guard trained.

With his back to the door, Thranduil stood off to one side, as Galion helped him adjust the fit on his armor. Gleaming and silver with curling designs on the breastplate and shoulder guards, the armor was magnificent—and that was just on its own merit—with Thranduil wearing it, well, Narylfiel might have stopped breathing for a second or two. He was beautiful and devastating all at once.

She wordlessly waved away Galion and picked up an impressive pair of vambraces to hand to the king as he turned.

"It looks brand-new," she said softly, knowing that her husband had sent his armor to the metalsmith several weeks ago to have it cleaned and repaired.

Thranduil murmured her name like a caress and started to take the pair of vambraces from her hand, but she shook her head, instead choosing to help him fit them on. "I'm not ready for this," she told him, dreading the idea of him leaving without her.

"We knew this day would come," he said slowly, fastening the opening around his hand.

She nodded and traced her finger down the elegant scrollwork on the vambrace to the lifeline running across his palm. "It's still unbearable," she said and looked up at him. "I could go—"

Thranduil shook his head. "We've been through this." He sighed. "As much as an asset as you could be—" He looked at her longingly. "I need to know you're safe, Narylfiel."

She ducked her head and then let him pull her into his arms. "I know," she said. "I know."

"We'll get through this," Thranduil told her lifting her chin up with his finger.

She did not want him to go, did not want to leave his side. Neither were options open to her, so Narylfiel did what she could, which was to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him for as long as he would let her, right there in the armory. Elves may have quietly come and gone, each touched by the quiet scene of the mighty elven king in his armor holding his beloved in his arms one last time.

Narylfiel watched the army leave in a long golden line out the gate to the bridge and then into the forest. Thranduil and his captains, along with part of his royal guard, rode at the front. She kept her eyes trained on her king, all silver splendor on his great elk Taurion, leading the way until the trees hid him from her view. Only then did Narylfiel turn away to the great loneliness of the halls behind her. Thranduil was gone, and she did not know when she might see him again. She did not think she could cry—and even if she could, she did not know if it would do anything to help the hollow ache inside her chest.

Suddenly Melui was there by her side, putting her arm around her reassuringly. "They will be back soon, Narylfiel. Your king will return."

Elfir nodded, Dorwil beside him. Thranduil had chosen them, two of his most trusted personal guards, to remain behind as protection for his queen, but Narylfiel suspected it was so that Elfir would keep an eye on her. "I do not know what may come or what evil the enemy may bring, but King Thranduil…" Elfir's voice trailed off, and he met Narylfiel's eyes. "He is very capable."

Narylfiel smiled a little. "Yes, he is," she agreed.

Still she felt miserable returning back to the royal wing and their bedchambers alone, no Thranduil there to sit with by the fire. She sank down onto the enormous bed, which really felt bigger now than ever, and breathed in the lingering of her husband's scent on his pillow. She really was trying not to dwell on his absence here, but it was so difficult. Memories of last night flooded her mind...

...It had been another late night for both of them. Thranduil had been in his study with his captains going over for what must be the hundredth time what would be the best strategic place to draw their lines, to set up their camps, all based on the news the scouts had been bringing back about the enemy's movement and position.

Narylfiel had been going over with Galadhor the lists of supplies they were sending with the army, carefully calculating that the provisions would last long enough for a siege—they had to calculate based on the worst case scenario, and her head was spinning, just trying to think of all the possible outcomes.

She had come back to her room exhausted, pushed open the door barely enough to slide in, only to see Thranduil hunched over in the chair before the fire, his elbows resting on his knees, his face in his hands. He looked...weary. Narylfiel dropped her things at the door and sank down in front of him.

He looked up at her, tried for a smile that failed to reach his eyes. "Naurenniel," he chided, "do I need to speak with Galadhor about working you too hard?"

She reached for his hands, covered them with her own. "I was the one keeping him there," she told him sheepishly, "I keep going over the supply lists, making sure that everything is accounted for, that nothing is short."

"Same," Thranduil said, speaking of his own preparations. "We're waiting for the return of one more scout, hoping that we have enough information to go on to make the right placements for our soldiers, our archers. We have to assume he will return any time in the next few days."

"The next few days," she repeated hollowly, letting the truth of his words sink in. Narylfiel met his eyes, and Valar help her, she loved him so much. She pushed herself up from the carpet onto her knees, and instead of begging him to stay like she desperately wanted to do, she threaded her hands through his hair and kissed the warmth of his cheek near his ear. "I love you," she whispered in between dancing kisses down the smooth plane of his jaw to his mouth.

He pulled her into him, and she wrapped her arms around the broad lines of his shoulders. "Oh, Narylfiel," he murmured, his breath catching as his hands trailed down her waist, pulled at the ties of her dress.

She nodded and then kissed him again as her hands pushed the dark fabric of his robe open and down, and Thranduil shrugged it off. His eyes dark, he brought his mouth down to hers and tasted her lips slowly. She did not realize it until later, but it felt like he was saying goodbye. Narylfiel felt the air sizzle between them as a log broke in the fireplace, sending sparks up the chimney.

There were times in their lovemaking, when Thranduil took his time with her, loving her slowly, covering every inch of her with his lips until she thought she might melt into the bedcovers; however, on a few rare occasions, she glimpsed a side of him which lost his careful sense of control. Perhaps on this night, he was just so very tired, or perhaps the looming war set him more on edge, she could not be sure, but Thranduil definitely lost control.

And Narylfiel liked it.

He made short work of her dress, and even quicker work of anything else coming between them, his long fingers wickedly more skillful than should be allowed.

Then he put those hands to work as he lowered her onto the carpet in front of the fire, trapping her beneath him. It was all she could do to hold onto him and will herself not to splinter into a million pieces in his embrace. For those people who said that the Elvenking was wild, who said he was as untamed as his forest realm, they really had no idea.

Only later when he picked her up and carried her to their bed, cuddled her to him under the dark green quilt, did her heart slow down.

"Narylfiel?" Thranduil's voice was soft next to her ear.

"Yes," she said, fighting a yawn.

"I worry about leaving you here."

"I know." Her eyes drifted shut. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beat.

"Promise me," he said. "Promise me you'll be safe."

"I promise," she murmured. The last thing she remembered was him kissing her temple, telling her to rest.

Author's Note: Please Review, Follow, Favorite!

Thranduil: #I'mBringingSexyBack

Narylfiel: #YesPlease

Legolas: #Dying #No

Well, Thranduil has left the building! Which leaves Narylfiel to fend for herself. There's bound to be some peril coming her way and plenty of danger for our Elvenking as he leaves the safety of his Halls... This was a big transitional chapter, and now we're primed for some big battles in the woodland realm! hurray!

So...I'm feeling some character death coming soon. Lemme know who you think should be the first to go!