White City. Midsummer's Eve, Second Age 144

THRANDUIL sat with a goblet of wine in his hand, his back to one of the massive marble columns that supported a stone balustrade. The western courtyard was enclosed on the east by the central tower, north by Hall of Council and by open corridors on the west and south. All around the white stone rails, pink and red summer roses bloomed, clinging onto the intricate filigree designs of the stone structure.

The lords had settled into discussing the matters of state while servants prepared the dinner tables. Left to themselves, Aron and Silwen had tried to introduce Thranduil to some of the people in the courtyard. Thranduil had wanted to stay for Aron and Silwen's sake, but he was not used to making pointless conversations with needless people. Once, long ago, he had wanted to grow up quickly so he could do what these people were doing now: dress beautifully and talk elegantly of mundane things. But after a century of wandering the wild unknown, talking only when necessary, all these polite, meaningless conversations seemed senseless.

And for the first time, Thranduil realized how much he didn't have compared to these Noldor with their glittering gems and vibrant silks embroidered in gold and silver. He wanted to ignore it, but the Sinda did not miss that while the people maintained polite faces plastered with a smile, their eyes grazed Thranduil's face, hair, and dress jacket.

After tolerating just two introductions, Thranduil had excused himself, taking his goblet of wine and wandered out to a secluded spot in a corner of one of the corridors. From the height of where he was sitting, he could see the entire three training fields and the blue haze far beyond which Thranduil knew to be the Gulf of Lune. Even the people down at the training grounds were aglitter with gems in their hair and clothes.

Thranduil leaned onto the marble column feeling the coolness of the stone through his simple robe Glineth hastily prepared. Lord Cirdan and his kin had chosen to be simple and plain. But it was one thing to choose to do so when one had enough riches. But for him and his people from Menegroth, there was no choice. Once, Sindar from Menegroth, too, had gems: luminescent pearls the size of plums, smoky obsidians, the blue lapis, rubies, emeralds, and his favorite, the white gems that glittered like stars. While those Sindar who did not live in Menegroth had time to gather their goods, his kin who fled Menegroth had nothing but what they had on their backs. What things of value they had that night had gone a long time ago in exchange for food, shelter, and arms. Thranduil clutched at the leather-bound chain around his neck. It was the only thing that remained to him, just pieces of what had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The thought of Menegroth made his heart clench, his throat ache. Thranduil scoffed aloud and let out a dry chuckle.

What did it matter? After what you've done, it was Eru's mercy that allowed you even this. You should be grateful. Thranduil clutched at his necklace harder. Besides, you do not need their approval. Who cares what they think of you?

And yet, it was so much easier to think it, but not so easy to feel it.

'You have nothing. You are nothing.' Lammaeg's words rang in Thranduil's ear. Maybe that old Elf was right.

Thranduil shook his head hard to calm the fire that took sudden hold of him. That day, it had taken everything he had to hold onto his temper, to stop himself from striking that councilor down.

Thranduil took in a breath and looked around, trying to focus his turbulent mind on something else.

Everything about this place was built to perfection from the immaculate stone columns to the vast granite floors polished like glass. It was a beautiful palace with tall columns that allowed ample lights to stream through story-high windows. Thranduil pulled at the collar of his dress robe. It was a beautiful prison, yet prison nonetheless. And he missed the forest. As enchanting as the White City was, despite the vast amounts of flowers, bushes, and cypress trees, there was a surprising lack of grand trees in the White City. And Thranduil missed trees.

A hearty laughter mingled with a merry giggle made Thranduil look up. One of the warriors was passing with a lady in his arms. He was whispering something into her ear that made her laugh. They were whispering, their heads touching, then they laughed out aloud together, their arms linked. They passed Thranduil as the last stray of sunlight fell on the stone column where Thranduil sat.

Thranduil was a child again, sitting on his mother's lap as she sat humming on a stone column carved like a large beech tree as sunlight streamed down from tall windows cut into the stone walls. The room was filled with light, and the scent of niphredil and herbs was all around. His mother laughed as his father whispered something into her ear. Her soft laughter mingled with his father's hearty one. And the sunlight was warm.

It was like a long, forgotten dream and Thranduil closed his eyes and leaned back onto the stone column as a corner of his heart ached.

Three new moons rose and fell since his father's departure, but no words have come from the East. Thranduil knew it was too early to expect news, but he waited nonetheless. He looked up at the sinking sun that bled everything deep red.

"Lord Thranduil?" A musical voice, cultured and delicate, made Thranduil look up.

A tall young lady dressed in a faint green, like a bud in spring, glided over to him. Strands of her glossy black hair were braided with gold threads and allowed to fall in rivulets behind her back. There was something familiar about her, but Thranduil could not place it.

"Why look so glum during such a joyous occasion, my lord? Do you not love summer?" she asked. Her voice was lyrical like a strum of the harp.

Thranduil frowned and bit down the first response that came to his lips. Reluctantly, he got off his seat as was expected.

"Oh, please don't mind me. I was just passing when I saw you. Will you not go? I believe the bell calling the guests to dinner rang a moment ago. Come, my lord. I believe we are seated at the same table. The one farthest from the high table, is it not so?"

Thranduil blinked. He did not remember the young lady, yet she spoke to him as if they had been introduced.

"Do I know you? And don't address me that way. I am no lord."

The maiden's gray eyes twinkled as amusement lit up her angular face.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

"No," Thranduil admitted, the word dragged from his lips.

The girl's gray eyes widened for a split second then she laughed out loud.

"What is so funny?" Thranduil growled, drawing his eyebrows together.

He cursed inwardly at the heat he felt on his face. When he traveled with his father, there had been all Elven men. For over hundred years, he had spent with ellyn. He was not used to dealing with ladies, especially young maidens. Lassiel was the first young Elven maid of similar age he had spoken to in a long time. But he had been comfortable with her, and the healer had not laughed at him.

"You are so serious. You are at Midsummer's Festival, not on a training ground. You should relax. You look like you are about to face a foe in a battle."

"What do you know of battle?" Thranduil snapped. But it did not faze the girl one bit. She laughed again.

"Nothing, of course. But I do know that warriors have that glum face when they are about to knock someone out. Why the battle face when there is much to celebrate?" she said and let out a chuckle.

"What do you want?" Thranduil said, willing his composure to return.

The maiden tilted her head, her hands behind her back. She looked up into his face.

"Blunt, you are. But I do not mind. I prefer it over the sweet nothings. In case you do not remember, I am Lalaithwen. Do you remember me now? From the library? The scrolls?"

It was then that Thranduil remembered the girl who dropped several scrolls on his head.

"Now you remember me," Lalaithwen smiled as she swung her upper body side to side. "I didn't know I was so unmemorable that you would have forgotten about me." She stepped closer to him, then brushed loose rose petals off his dress jacket, surprising him with her closeness.

Do these Noldorin maids have no sense of personal space? Thranduil stepped back remembering how Lassiel clutched at his tunic. He hardly knew these Elvenmaids, yet they acted as if they knew him already.

Lalaithwen looked up, eyes wide and sparkling like a child's.

"Why are you sitting here all by yourself?" she asked. "Don't you want company?"

"No."

She seemed to wait for an explanation, and when he did not offer one, she asked again.

"Why not?"

Thranduil frowned at the Noldorin maid. Frustration bubbled up inside him filling him to the brim.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I asked?" she shrugged, looking up at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Thranduil raked his hair roughly and looked away.

"Lady Lalaithwen," he took in a quick breath. "If you don't mind, I would like to be left to myself."

If he could, Thranduil did not want to be rude to her, lest his mother threw down the doors of Mandos to come and scold him. As gentle as his mother had been, she was a terror when it came to discipline, especially when it came to manners toward ladies and elders. But right now, Thranduil wanted to be left alone.

But instead of going away, the girl smiled brilliantly up at him.

"I'm sorry, but, I cannot because you see, I have just made up my mind. I choose you to be my partner at the festival." Then, she produced a white ribbon embroidered with golden stars.

It was now Thranduil's turn to look at the girl wide eyed.

Thranduil knew about the right of a young maiden to choose a partner at Midsummer Festival. Days or months before the festival, many young Elven men who are interested in being her partner will woo her. She would make her choice at the festival by giving her chosen partner an armband embroidered with the sigil of her house if she had one or embroidery of something that represented her if she did not come from a noble house. Thranduil had heard of such custom, of course, but he was too young at Menegroth and the years at Sirion had been desperate where the celebrations had been kept to a bare minimum. Besides, there had not been Elves young enough to engage in such traditions.

"I cannot take that," Thranduil said. He knew that being chosen by any maiden was considered an honor, but if Gilmagor thought it inappropriate for Thranduil to know her, then he was sure her family thought the same. At any event, Thranduil was in no mood to entertain a Noldo, maiden or not.

"And, why not?" she placed her hands on her trim waist, her eyes narrowed.

"I hardly know you. In fact, I do not know you at all."

"Oh, that's all right. I don't know you either." Her face brightened, and she laughed that silver bell laughter again. "We can get to know each other. It is only for the evening. It is not like I am asking you to marry me."

Thranduil frowned.

I don't want to get to know any one of you, he almost said it out loud but managed to bite his tongue. That would have been rude. He could already imagine his mother's disapproving face.

"Well?"

When Thranduil remained silent, Lalaithwen raised her eyebrows, her gray eyes twinkling.

"Is that silence mean you will reconsider?" she offered the embroidered lace. "If nothing else, I could guarantee you will not be bored."

"Lady Lalaithwen, let me be clear-" But before Thranduil could say further, someone called.

"Lalaith!"

Both Thranduil and Lalaithwen turned. Belegor stomped towards them, then, he snatched the lace band off the girl's extended hand.

"You are not going to offer this to a Sinda." Belegor looked down at the girl, "especially not to this Sinda." Belegor turned blazing eyes toward Thranduil. Then, he turned back to Lalaithwen. "I thought you were going to give your ribbon to-"

"I changed my mind," Lalaithwen said, as she snatched the ribbon back from Belegor. "It is my choice who I give my lace to, not yours. You know that," she said coolly and raised her chin defiantly.

"Father will not like this," Belegor said, glowering at the maiden.

Lalaithwen shrugged. "As I said, it is my choice, not father's nor yours, brother."

"Brother?" Thranduil said, thinking out aloud.

"Yes. My sister," Belegor said, blocking Lalaithwen from Thranduil's line of sight. "You are not to get anywhere near my sister, Sinda. No member of my house will associate with a dark elf!"

"Belegor! That is enough. He is a Sinda, not a dark elf," Lalaithwen looked up at his brother, drawing her eyebrows. She pushed Belegor aside to step out. "What is wrong with you, brother? Where are your manners? I have never seen you behave like this. And even if he was a dark elf, the choice is mine," she said, unflinching and firm. "Thranduil?" she turned to Thranduil and offered the lace.

"I will be honored to be your partner, my lady," Thranduil said with a smile, his eyes boring into Belegor's dark gray eyes.

"No, you are not!" Belegor pulled his sister away from Thranduil.

"Belegor," Lalaithwen pulled at her arm on her brother's grip. "It is only for the festival."

Just then, Elrond walked over.

"There you all are. Have you not heard the bell for dinner? His majesty is already seated."

Thranduil looked at Belegor smugly.

"Lady Lalaithwen," Thranduil offered his arm to the lady who took it. "Be a good Elf and step aside, Belegor," Thranduil said, letting a smile curl up his lips.

"Why you…" Belegor fisted his hands, his lips curled back, his teeth clenched. He took a step to grab at Thranduil, but he was jerked back.

Elrond held onto Belegor's other arm.

"I don't know what is going on, but we are expected at the dinner tables. Don't cause any trouble, Belegor. You do not want to cause any commotion in the palace, against the king's guest."

Belegor's face crumpled with fury, but he shook off Elrond.

"Stay away from my sister, Sinda, or you'll regret it," he said. Then, Belegor straightened his jacket and walked into the courtyard. Elrond frowned watching Belegor walk away; then, he turned to Thranduil and Lalaithwen.

"What happened?" Elrond asked.

"I do not know," Lalaithwen said. "I chose Thranduil as my partner for the evening and Belegor tried to stop me. Have you ever heard of such a thing? I have never seen him behave so outrageously."

Elrond's eyes opened wide as he looked at Lalaithwen then at Thranduil.

"Well, Thranduil, you will be the envy of all cadets. She is a flower much coveted," Elrond said, but his eyes held a reservation that was not lost on Thranduil.

Lalaithwen gave a gracious curtsey to Elrond at the compliment. "Why, thank you, Lord Elrond," she said with a laugh.

"Will you give us some privacy, my lady? I have something to discuss with Thranduil before dinner."

Lalaithwen smiled. "I'll see you at our table," she said and tied her ribbon around Thranduil's arm, then followed after her brother.

"I didn't know you knew Lady Lalaithwen," Elrond said.

Thranduil had a distinct feeling that Elrond didn't approve, not that he cared for Elrond's approval.

"I don't know her. I think it was an impulse decision on the part of the lady."

"Knowing her, I could see that. But, do you know anything about her?" Elrond asked.

Thranduil shrugged.

"I thought not. Well, you know that she is Belegor's sister which also means she is Lord Lammaeg's daughter."

"Yes, I think I got that much."

"You also know how Lord Lammaeg feels about you."

"Yes," Thranduil said. He has not forgotten Lord Lammaeg. "Not much different from his son, but she seems different from those two."

"Yes, she is. She is kind and generous, much more like her aunt than her father or brother, I am told. Do you know who her aunt was?"

"As I said, I know nothing of her," Thranduil said with a resigned sigh. "Why don't you just go ahead and say what you wish to say, Elrond?" Thranduil met Elrond's hesitating gaze. There was definite disapproval and something else.

"Her aunt was the king's mother. King Gil-galad's mother and Lord Lammaeg were siblings. His majesty is very fond of Lady Lalaithwen, and it would be unwise for you…"

"Unwise? Unwise to do what? Court her? You want me to stay away from her, is that it? Is she too high for me? I am a nobody from a dead kingdom, so the king's cousin is out of my reach? After all, I am just a Sinda, not a drop of Noldorin blood in me, unlike you." Thranduil smiled down at Elrond with cold fury. "Don't worry, Elrond. I am not interested in co-mingling my Sindarin blood with that of a Noldo, any Noldo, for that matter."

Thranduil ripped the lace off his arm and thrust it into Elrond's hands and stomped away, down the stairs. He was in no mood to eat dinner, especially dinner with the whole bunch of Noldorin nobles who obviously think themselves above him or any other Sindar.

By the time Thranduil reached the bottom of the long stairs, he was calmer. He stopped at the last stone steps. If he had nothing to think of but himself, he would gladly walk away. In fact, he wanted to ride away from this stone city tonight and find his way to his father. Longing for his father and all others he had known since he was a child swelled up inside Thranduil like waves and crashed into his heart.

Thranduil took in a long shaky breath and shook the invisible chains that bound him to this place. When will he be free of them? Thranduil let out a long sigh and looked up at the sky. The red of the sinking sun receded, tinting the white stones of the courtyard into pale gold.

Now that he was calmer, Thranduil wasn't sure why he felt so angry. The girl meant nothing to him. He should not let this influence his behavior.

Before they arrived at the King's Tower, Lord Istuion had reminded Thranduil once again, that Thranduil's words and actions will reflect not only on his House and his father but on all Sindar. And Thranduil knew he should curve his tongue. He knew that, but sometimes he could not stop himself in time. But actions had more serious consequences than mere words.

Thranduil vigorously raked his hands through his hair. If he left now, his empty seat would make it glaringly obvious of his absence. The invisible chains that bound him to this place tugged.

"Damn it all!"

Thranduil fisted his hands, gritted his teeth but turned and trudged back up the stairs, back to the western courtyard.

Well, I guess now I will get to taste the councilor's fine wine that I worked so hard to acquire. Thranduil comforted himself.

A/N: Just a short comment on Fumella as it seems readers had some interesting reactions to her. Her name means "red poppy" in Elvish. I wanted a showy flower name for her and the "icky" sound of her name just went so well with the kind of person I wanted to portray. Silwen means 'white maiden'. In case anyone is interested, I use Parf Edhellen ( .com), a dictionary of all words used in Tolkien.