I would like it put on record that ff faffing me around because I now work off mac is highly annoying! Apologies to all affected by the update/no update incident. It seems that I cannot upload from pages .doc format. The screen goes blank and it doesn't upload. I am not sure how to fix this and if anyone has experienced this and can advise for future reference that would be awesome. So far I have had to change the pages document into a .docx format, email it to myself then reopen it in my old windows laptop in Microsoft office to then upload to ff . net from there. Headache does not even cover my irritation right now. Does anyone know if I purchase microsoft office for my mac will this fix the issue...as I upload lots of written work regularly...and dammit I am writer not a techician...my brain does not comprehend this! *bangs head repeatedly off desk* If you can help me pr at least offer advice please PM...I'd love you forever.

Anyway...here is the new chapter. After many painful hours...please enjoy.

***warning: Little teeny tiny lemon. Nothing overly descriptive as per my style. But obviously skip if it offends.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY mentions to SarahBloomSakura - I hope you had a wonderful time m'dear, and I was thinking of you fondly! Please accept this chapter as your belated gift.


Chapter 52

I don't see, or hear, or feel anything other than Thranduil's presence next to mine. For once in such a long time my world has ceased its erratic spinning, and I can actually catch my breath. His hands are like burning veins that sear into my skin and join us together – just like the ivy vine that signified our union at our wedding feast. I want to surrender to him entirely and forget the past several years as if they were just a horrible dream, or lonely memory not worth remembering. But, we are in the company of our people, thousands of elven spirits all waiting to be allowed the same moment of reuniting with their own loved ones.

Reluctantly I pull my gaze from Thranduil's and let it drift behind him, though I still hold his hands tightly - I don't know if I can let him go. The noble elves of court have ascended the steps, and now they await the commands of their King. I can almost see the hundreds of questions dance in their anxious eyes. I can almost hear their resounding thoughts; what will we do now? How will we recover the wounded? What expenses will we be crippled with from this war? Can we trust this one to lead us like his father? So much uncertainty…it is practically stifling!

"My lord?" Olban's soft and kindly voice breaks the weighted tension as he shoulders his way to the front of the huddle; "My lord the people await your command."

Thranduil goes rigid and I automatically sense the change in his spirit. It cloisters itself, retracting away from me and hiding behind a very well-constructed mask of cold indifference. I cautiously watch his hard eyes – the pupils flickering as he mentally considers his response and works hard to ensure it is a reasonable one. I haven't seen him this careful since the early days of his dragon fire recovery, and suddenly I realize just how injured he truly is.

"There is nothing to command," Thranduil answers quickly as he twists away from me with such speed that it takes me a moment to register he isn't holding my hands any longer. "These warriors are exhausted…they need peace."

"Of course my lord," Olban bows his head in the still gentle voice that is so disarming that Thranduil visibly relaxes with him. "Would my lord wish us to relieve them from duty…or would my lord wish to retain that honour himself?"

A heartbeat of silence fills the air and a flash of a dozen emotions fall over my husband's face so quickly that I am convinced he turns a sickly grey.

Instinctively I reach for his hand and squeeze it comfortingly. This is a shock, of that I'm certain, I suppose it is that moment when suddenly you realise that all those eyes out there are actually waiting on you to say something comforting…anything at all that will ease their anxieties. That moment when there is no one left but you, and no one else to turn to make the simplest decisions…you are who everyone is looking to.

It is a lonely moment.

"We can speak on your behalf your Majesty," Calanon speaks up, appearing from the back wearing a concerned look. I am sure his healer instincts have kicked in and he is feeling what I am sensed…Thranduil is injured and traumatized and this is just a tad bit overwhelming, even for him.

"Lady Clara has seen to the readying of the Healing Halls, we are ready to receive any wounded or those who just need respite and care. You do not need to utter another word my lord, you need rest too. This can be done later…there is absolutely no rush."

"No!" Thranduil snaps and raises his hand, wincing slightly at the jolt, making me increasingly concerned over how badly he is physically hurt; "No, I have led them this far, I can spare them a few more moments. It is the very least they deserve."

Hastily, he stomps a little too heavily down the steps, ignoring the staff that the smaller ellon - who I assume as the squire from before - tries to insist he take. Assuming a visible position in front of the guard and the vast majority of the civilians of the realm, he is met with much cheering and songs of welcome and thankfulness. With a raise of his hand the crowds fall silent and every ear listens – I can only marvel at how easily he commands attention, they truly adore him;

"We have been victorious, the enemy has been stripped of his powers and our peace secured." Thranduil's calm statement is void of any overexcitement, but he at least maintains a clear voice and ever so endearing smile for the briefest of moments. The people cheer, and the guards chant their songs of victory and strength, such enthusiasm echoed in all their voices that is hard to not find a more proud people. Again Thranduil raises his hand and the voices die away, his face shifting into a more sorrowful expression the look in his eyes making my heart lurch;

"But many have fallen in pursuit of this cause," He continues, and I am suddenly aware of the tangible sorrow in the air. Thranduil straightens his broad shoulders, and works hard to hold his head high as he continues;

"Friends, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters have all given their lives so we may reside in peace again, so we may live to flourish and grow again under the eaves of the forest that bore us and protects us. My own father perished to protect that very ideal, that whether we be Sindar or Silvan, we are connected by spirit to the roots of this very forest and all it stands for…it is our sanctuary, our dynasty, and will remain so unto the ending of the world. So today, and every day hence, we honour the dead by enduring and protecting that heritage."

Another tremendous cheer echoes throughout the forest, and yet again Thranduil pacifies it with a slight raise of his arm. He bows his head this time, and I sense the looming significance of his next statement; "I am a lord among my father's people, a blessed son of my Mother's kin in the West…but I am first and foremost a child of this forest…raised and taught by the laws and customs of our people. I shall only ever call myself King if that is the will of my people."

I hold my breath, because the moment is so weighted that I am not sure if I can breathe comfortably without disturbing it. The seconds seem to pass painfully slowly as the huge inhale from the collective people is felt in the air. My eyes scan the sea of faces looking for answers, trying to gauge a reaction, anything to tell me how they truly feel about this but I see nothing other than echoed brotherhood and loyalty that goes beyond just the physical. Then I see it, the first waves of people kneeling before their King and how the action reverberates out into the masses. How one follows the other in unanimous agreement. Thranduil is their King of that there is no doubt. From where I watch I can almost see Thranduil roll back on his heel in shock at their very clear statement, and so with a nod of his head he gestures to the guard;

"My warriors… go welcome your families, take rest and comfort one another for the days of recovery will be long and difficult." With that said Thranduil swivels on his heel and strides determinedly towards the nobles who instantly bow deeply at his approach, pausing at the foot at the steps he turns briefly and orders; "There will be seven days of reprieve, and in the twilight of seventh day we will celebrate and feast in remembrance of the lives no longer with us." A unanimous grumble of approval is heard and suddenly the remnants of the council disperse and I am left staring once again at not just my mate…but the King of Greenwood.

I slip into a deep curtsy because I believe it is proper that a Queen should be seen to submit faithfully to her King. I remain with my eyes downcast as I watch Thranduil's well-worn boots climb the steps and come to a stop beneath me. I feel a familiar hand cup my chin, yanking it upwards so I am looking him in those beautifully hypnotic eyes, which are suddenly so confused and unsure. I don't believe I have ever welcomed him like this before at least not in seriousness. He offers me his hand and gladly I accept it so he may fluidly raise me to my feet, and once I am standing upright again, he plants a very firm hand to my waist and guides me away from the crowds and back into the caves.

We walk silently through the main corridors, followed of course by the nobles and the very persistent squire who is still diligently carrying Thranduil's staff and keeping irritatingly close to us. I am beginning to think the young ellon will be joining us in our bed chamber at this rate. Eventually I tire of the entourage and as we approach a set of familiar yet inconspicuous doorways that are the private hallways leading to the King's home, I spin to face our following;

"My husband is weary and he needs rest, you will give him at least tonight to recuperate before you begin making demands off of him…is that understood?" I order with a raised eyebrow and rather sour look when the young squire scowls determinedly at me…like he disagrees?

"His majesty has certain needs that must be attended too, if you would just allow me to assist you home I can care for him then leave you in peace," The ardent little elf insists, and I can't help the look of impatience that flits across my face. I just want a few minutes with my husband, seriously, is that too much to ask around here?

"Galion you are relieved of your duties, any needs his majesty may have can be fulfilled by his wife of that I am certain," Calanon pipes up quietly, and tries to shoo off the elf he obviously knows. I blush slightly at the insinuation in my friend's voice, and when I look to Thranduil he is quite clearly suppressing a smirk.

"Galion!" Thranduil chuckles, his voice a little hoarse from his impromptu speech, the tiredness evident in his eyes; "Go home mellon nin, your family will be worried sick, you have done enough for me already."

"But my lord…the ointments must be made up and I will have to ensure someone knows how to prepare your herbal tea…you know it helps you sleep better!" Galion persists and eyes me like I wouldn't have the foggiest notion where to start caring for my own husband!

"Clara knows," Thranduil insists and waves his concerns off; "Please Galion, I need to see my family, please just trust me to look after myself for one night. You can call in the morning to check if everything is up to standard…is that agreeable?"

"Well yes, I suppose, but my lord you must, must, promise me to have that wound bathed and redressed…if you promise me that I will rest easier," Galion begs and I can't help sweeping my gaze over Thranduil, trying to work out what he is hiding from me.

"What wound?" I question, and Thranduil rolls his eyes in exasperation before frowning rather angrily at the unperturbed Galion.

"It's nothing," Thranduil assures me breathily - whilst staring daggers at the imperious young ellon; "I promise Galion, now off you go. We shall speak in the morning."

Just as Galion attempts to argue the point, Thranduil clutches me around the waist and practically pushes me through the open doorway. Before anyone can follow us, both Thranduil and I nod to the guards standing sentry to shut the doors firmly behind us, which they do without question.

Standing on the opposite side of the door in the deserted corridors with their high archways, and wonderfully sculpted stone trees laden with real flowers, and spewing moss covered fountains, Thranduil and I both sigh with relief. That was a little trickier than I had expected, but at last I am alone with him and it takes him less than a second to process that fact. I chance a peek up at him, and feel my cheeks flush with giddy warmth – he is home and I can barely contain my excitement.

I watch with utter delight as his dazzling smile lights his eyes and then the hand that was guiding my waist suddenly grips me tightly. In a blur of movement I am spun flush against Thranduil's scorching torso. My arms instinctively wrap around him, one clutching his back and the other grasping a fistful of his hair, whilst I bury my face into his neck and place my lips to the tender skin there. Thranduil's other hand is raking through my hair, pushing my face closer to him while he nuzzles my cheek and ear, occasionally grazing my exposed shoulder with his chapped lips. But, after a few minutes I become aware of the wetness of tears as they drip on my shoulder, or when I feel his damp eyelashes caress my cheek. I don't question them, or draw attention to them, because I am more or less certain I am guilty of exactly same thing.

"I missed you," I sniff pathetically, as I steady my hands against the metal shoulder plates of his armour. I note for the first time that he wears no breast plate, nor does he sport anything restrictive around his abdomen. Worriedly I let my right hand slide from his shoulder to his chest, but before I can ask another question or investigate further his lips find mine in a chaste but lingering kiss.

"Say that again," He whispers in a gravelly voice against my lips. That voice muddles up my thought pattern, and I can barely gain command over my own lips to kiss him back, nor can I find the words he commands.

"I missed you…" I half chuckle at the odd request, but am abruptly halted when his long fingers cradle my face and he groans almost painfully in response.

"Ai Clara…your voice…there is no memory or dream that Irmo could ever bless me with that could replace the joy of hearing it with my own ears," Thranduil mumbles out, for his lips are still tracing every crevice and dip of mine. Tempting me to either speak again or let him kiss me in a much less dignified way…I'm not sure which one he desires more in this moment.

I can't help the grin that plays on my lips, or how I lean away from his advancing movements just so I can look him in those beautiful eyes one more time. His fingers curl around my face pulling me closer to him, and then he latches his mouth with mine in one hell of an intoxicating kiss that renders me as weak as putty. His tongue draws a ticklish line across my lower lip before he gently urges me to make the kiss deeper and much more passionate – I comply of course.

Oh how I get lost in this wonderful embrace, for I can still remember with such agonising clarity the moment when I felt him almost depart this world. When he was almost ripped from me, and at that memory the flames of my spirit tentatively seem to lick around a barely knitting wound, making me wince involuntarily. The sensation only making me much aware that I am here, with him tightly locked in my arms, tasting him on my tongue and letting his spirit kindle the embers of mine. This feeling is nothing short of miraculous.

It is easy to forget the time and place as my free hands slide across Thranduil's strong arms and broad back. I draw him closer with each inhale as I kiss him deeper still, enjoying this moment, enjoying remembering the passion in just a kiss. I sigh contentedly and he groans in satisfaction, and before I can stop myself my fingers find the hem of his travel worn navy tunic and slip expertly underneath it. Instead of finding flame hot skin, I find thick bandage and packing gauze? As my hand rests gently on the thickest wrapped section Thranduil hisses a little and breaks our kiss. I don't speak, I just watch him carefully for a reaction, my brows pulled together in concern. He merely sighs and pulls my hand away from his bandaged stomach, kissing my fingertips before cradling them against his cheek.

"It was a war Clara," He murmurs sadly, his eyes faraway for just a moment; "It could have been much worse. Don't be sad meleth; I don't want to see you frown…not today."

"You'll let me see later won't you?" I query quietly, as I stroke strands of his platinum hair from his drawn face, noting now how dull and overly long his hair has become, and how brittle it feels to my fingertips – he really does need care; "You will tell me what happened?"

"Only if you tell me…Clara what did you do?" It is Thranduil's turn to question me, as his eyes sweep me appraisingly and suddenly I feel quite self conscious.

"I don't know what you mean?" I mumble and divert my gaze, but his fingers draw my chin upwards again.

"Your fea is so frail; you are as white as snow…what happened? Please tell me I am not the cause of this Clara?" He begs, but I haven't the heart to lie to him - I know how I must look. I have purposely been avoiding mirrors, and even with Gilron's attention this morning I still feel more than a little haggard.

"I did what I had to do!" I reply resolutely and clasp the left side of his face in my hand ensuring his eyes never leave mine; "We don't say goodbye Thranduil…you said that…so, I refused to tell you goodbye. I held on, and my love I'd gladly do it again if it was asked of me. You are home now – alive and well - that is all that matters!"

"You could have faded!" He warns me forcefully, his eyes growing sorrowful at the thought, the roughness in his voice returns so it trembles slightly. "Ai Clara, you are so reckless! But it is true…I could not have survived without you, I hope you know that? I swear to you I will fix this, I will make you well…I promise meleth nin."

"Just you being here is making me well," I give him a dazzling smile just to prove my point, and he manages a soft grin in return; "My spirit is already healing, I can feel it, just promise you won't leave me again anytime soon, okay?"

"I doubt I can," Thranduil chuckles and bobs his head slightly in the direction of the locked doors; "I doubt you and I will be able to go anywhere without an entourage now."

"So it seems…I thought that young squire was going to be tucking you in tonight," I snigger as I stretch up on my tiptoes to plant a little kiss to his nose, which seems to soften him. Thranduil rolls his eyes and shakes his head at the mere mention of the young elf, before shrugging in a sort of non-committal agreement.

"I would not put it past him to try," Thranduil answers me with what I hope is a joking apologetic look. When I frown, he just chuckles and kisses the crease between my brows and of course that just makes me melt straight back into his arms. Where we stay interlocked for a blissful and undisturbed perfect moment in time.

"Clara?" Thranduil finally breaks the silence, and firmly halts my attempt to snuggle into his chest again; "Where are my children…I want to see my boy, and my little light, where is she?"

I suppress a snigger at the impatience and mild annoyance in his voice at my failed plan at hogging his attention just a few minutes longer. I thought it would have been easier to let him go, to share him, but the small selfish part of me is just so ecstatic to have him to myself. But he just has to mention our children and I am filled with anticipation, for I am just as excited as he is to see them reunited with their father. Grinning I step away from him and take his hand.

"Come…let's go home," I command him, and I watch with delight as the dullness in his eyes dissipates and a lightness begins to creep over his countenance. "You have a little welcoming committee awaiting you."

With a musical laugh, and the most genuine look of happiness I have seen in a long time, Thranduil allows me to pull him along the winding corridors and bridges of our home. I take it slowly, letting him savour the sights, the sounds, and smells of home. He pauses every so often to stare whimsically at something inconsequential, or he will point and query to things that he does not recognize, or he will stall to inspect the newly planted flowers and shrubs. But I notice that by the time we reach our private halls, he has become withdrawn and ashen again – pausing by the dancing fountain he seems to deliberate his next actions.

"Thranduil…love…are you alright?" I query softly as I tiptoe to his side, and press my palm to his clammy forehead. "Do you want to sit for a minute?"

"N-no…I'm fine," He mumbles, but leans into me for a little more support; "It is just…I do not remember a time in my life when my Adar was not waiting for me beyond those doors."

I don't have any words to comfort him with as we both stare at the very familiar veranda, which leads to the open golden lattice doors, all covered in climbing roses. I cannot imagine what it must feel like to lose a parent, especially one that has been a huge part of your life for thousands of years. It does feel unnatural to not have Oropher waiting, he would always be the first to greet his son, either to berate or embrace him. Sadly I rub my husband's hunched shoulders, and clutch his arm tightly, hoping I can convey my understanding of the enormity of this moment for him. After a time of silent contemplation he nods to himself, and so the two of us ascend the steps and enter our home for the first time together in several long years.

Once within the confines of our home, Thranduil forlornly lets go of my arm and begins his slow familiarisation with his surroundings. I remain a few paces behind him as he runs his hands along stone walls tracing out the grooves in the rocks. Sometimes he pauses to straighten a vase, or tapestry, but he does not speak nor does he attempt to verbalize the obvious turmoil that rolls out from his fea in tremendous waves. He isn't coping very well at all, but I know him well enough not to push him. He'll fall apart on his own terms and not before it, and certainly not in such a vulnerable situation. I am pretty certain he will even try to hide his grief from me, but he needs to navigate this on his own and I have every faith he can do it with incredible grace.

When we reach the spacious family living rooms I hold my breath, because this will be the hardest part. This room is still very much filled with the presence of his father, and I still can't bring myself to disturb his armchair and books. Predictability Thranduil goes rigid when he clocks the chair.

Carefully he approaches the familiar objects and outstretches his hand to touch the robe, his fingers hover momentarily over the material before he snatches it back and steps away…almost like he had been scorched by the memory. In his confusion he spins to look at me with such panicked eyes that it is instinctual for me to reach for him. In a second we collide and I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders, allowing him the brief reprieve he needs to compose himself.

"Sshhh, it's okay," I murmur as I rhythmically stroke his back, in my attempt to still his slight trembling. He attempts to articulate something, but it only comes out as a half broken sob, so he considers better of it and just clutches me tightly…like I anchor him…as I knew I would have to.

As we stand locked together I spy, over Thranduil's shoulder, three familiar figures as they crowd an arched doorway. I smile warmly at Elbes and quietly mouth for her to bring the children forward. I press a finger to my lips for the children when they appear from their obscured position behind the supporting arch. Both Legolas and Celairiel immediately nod and stare wide eyed at the sight of their Adar, but still they remain shyly glued to Ellie's side. Celairiel almost melts into the folds of her nursemaids powder blue skirts, and I know this must be incredibly surreal for her. The only memories she has of her father are from when she was a baby – she was after all, not even a year old when he left. Legolas on the other hand is itching to bridge the gap between he and his long absent father, I can plainly see the impatience and the sheer happiness shining out from his youthful eyes. With a grin I press my lips against Thranduil's ear, and place my hands on his shoulders;

"The welcome committee are here," I whisper, as I gently peel him away from me and prod him to face the direction of his children.

There is one weighted heartbeat of silence as Thranduil's gaze sweeps over his children for the first time in what must feel like forever. I watch his reactions carefully, for I know how much they have grown and I can see the utter disbelief mixed with the beginnings of registration, that these are in fact his little ones. Fresh tears begin to well in his eyes as he breaks into a smile and steps towards his son…for Legolas is already inching towards his Ada. In a moment his son echoes his father's smile and they are racing the distance between them.

"Ada…" Legolas cries softly as he hurls himself into Thranduil's waiting arms, accidentally knocking his father back a few steps with the force of the collision. I wince and open my mouth to warn Legolas to be careful when I spy a sickly look of pain roll over Thranduil's features, but he abruptly shakes his head at me and so I remain silent. He clearly does not want anything to ruin this moment for him, not even his injuries will stop him enjoying this.

"Legolas…look at you!" Thranduil laughs delightedly as he pulls his son away to appraise him at arm's length. "Ai…where has my little leaf gone…what happened to you?"

"I am almost as tall as you!" Legolas giggles excitedly as she grips his father's arms with a vice like hold, unwilling to let him go for a second.

"Almost," Thranduil nods proudly, and tugs his son close to him to measure his height against himself; "I would say you are only a hair's breadth from my shoulder ion nin…oh my boy I missed you so."

Thranduil takes advantage of Legolas being pressed to his chest to wrap him up in a tighter embrace, and I can barely contain my happy tears as he envelopes himself around our son and kisses his fair crown repeatedly. Its takes all of about a minute to pass before Legolas starts to sob and I know he is just completely overwhelmed and to be truthful I am happy to sob along with him.

"Legolas…my little greenleaf," Thranduil quietly soothes as he kneels down on one knee to look up into his son's huge tear rimmed eyes. Cupping his young face in his hands, the two share a tender and meaningful look before Thranduil speaks; "You have been so brave ion nin…so brave! I could not be more proud."

"I was so frightened when they said you were missing…I just thought…when Grandpa…I thought you weren't coming back-" Legolas rasps out the sentence as best he can before a fresh torrent of tears roll down his cheeks. Thranduil swallows hard, and catches the child's falling tears with his thumbs before drawing him back into another protective embrace.

"I miss Grandpa," Legolas sobs pitifully, and I watch on uselessly as Thranduil's chest heaves in attempt to stifle his own tears.

"I know ion…me too," He just about sighs in response before cuddling Legolas a little tighter; "But he would only be angry at us both for crying, would he not?"

"Yes," Legolas lets out a defeated chuckle as he swipes at his eyes with his sleeve; "He would be especially angry at you…he always called you a silly little elleth when you got upset."

Thranduil barely contains a messy laugh, which comes out more like a snort in his vain attempt to conceal any evidence of his tears. Shaking his head he places another kiss to our son's brow and smiles adoringly. Legolas grins back, pure happiness and relief swimming in his glowing features as he turns to look back at his sister…who still cowers fearfully into Elbes.

"Are you not going to say hello to Ada?" He attempts to coax his little sister with a beckoning hand.

Celairiel's anxious gaze flits to mine for confirmation first, and I smile encouragingly for her to follow after her brother but instead she shrinks further into Ellie's skirts. Stuffing her hand into her mouth she bashfully turns away from us, and I can't help but hurt for Thranduil. His whole countenance falls at his daughter's reaction, and I know he is at a lost as how to breach the gap with her.

"Celairiel…come say hello to your Ada," I command softly as I step towards her and try to unravel her from Elbes.

"It is alright," Ellie soothes, "Are you not going to show your Ada your lovely new dress…hmm? You said you had to wear it especially for him this morning?

"Nnmm," She mumbles through her lips still crushed behind her hand, then beckons for me to come close so she can whisper something in my ear. I lean into her and she pushes herself under my cascade of hair, obscuring herself further from view; "What if Ada doesn't like me?"

"Why would he not like you?" I question, pulling my brows together in confusion, although I repeat her question for my husband's benefit. "Sweetheart your Ada loves you very much…of course he will like you."

"But…he might not remember me?" She muses anxiously and peers shyly at her Ada through my mass of wavy hair. When Thranduil catches her gaze he gives a tiny smile, but the warmth and love in his eyes is enough to draw Celairiel out from her hiding.

"I remember you," Thranduil answers her in a soft voice as he kneels to her level – the motion causing obvious pain. "How could I forget my beautiful little light…but does she not remember me?"

Celairiel shakes her head and nervously plays with the silver hem of her lemon dress. Taking a few brave breaths in, she lifts her startling eyes to appraise her father and then bravely steps towards him with outstretched hands. Thranduil doesn't rush her, or attempt to hug her without her permission – even though I know it is exactly what he wants to do. Instead he patiently lets her trace the plains of his face with her small fingers. After a few moments he pauses her delicate hands and takes them in one of his own, and with his other her tips her chin upwards so she looks at him. In the moment I can almost see the recognition within their spirits, and I see the wide smile spread across my daughter's angelic face, lighting her up so she almost glows.

"Ada…" She murmurs quietly, and then she happily throws herself into him. Wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and melting into his strong arms as they protectively wind around her. "Ada…what took you so long?"

Thranduil starts to laugh gently at the question, as he buries his face into her cheek and kisses her repeatedly. I can't help the chuckle I let out at the question too, and suddenly the tense moment from before is long forgotten, and any worries cease to exist. With my help, Thranduil comes back into standing, still cradling a very happy Celairiel, whilst Legolas comes to wrap his arms around my waist and grin triumphantly up at us. Yes, I know exactly what he is thinking – at last his family are all in one place, his prayers have been answered yet again. I smile deliriously back and rest my head on top of his; I don't think I could imagine a more perfect moment if I tried.

"Ada…Ada I told Nana you would come home so I did!" Celairiel chirps excitedly, as she pats his cheek impatiently. "Nana was sad…but I knew you would come home. I dreamed it!"

"You did?" Thranduil asks with the suitable amount of awe that she expects.

"Yes! And Ada I knew you were coming home because the tree-songs said so." Celairiel continues, clearly ecstatic with her father's interest in her tales. "We planted a lullaby tree…did you know that? And I sang to it every day, I made Legolas too, sometimes he wouldn't but I made him…because you can hear the songs too can't you?"

"I heard your songs," Thranduil confirms with a nod, and before Celairiel can question him further, he begins to hum. Celairiel obviously follows the familiar tune, and with wide eyes filled with wonderment and awe she hums back. Thranduil trails off the tune and leans in to press another fond kiss to his daughter's brow; "How could I forget such a beautiful voice…my sweet light I heard you."

"I heard you too Ada," She suddenly sniffs, and buries her face into his neck, cuddling him close. "I love you Ada…and I missed you so much."

"I missed you too…I missed all of you," Thranduil mutters painfully, as he outstretches his hand to Legolas and I - we of course join in on the hug. Legolas tucks himself in under his father's free arm, whilst I wrap my arms around his waist and curl into his back, resting my head peacefully on his shoulder.

"I love you all so much," He sighs quietly, and rests his head to mine; "I swear to the Valar now, that I will never be parted from any of you again…I cannot bear the distance."

"Ssshh," I whisper and squeeze him just a little tighter; "You are home now love…it's over."

xXx

With the sleeves of my mauve button down dress shoved somewhere above my elbows - and my hair scooped up in a haphazard bun atop my head - I busily work together a thick poultice. I scan the barely legible and tattered notes that Galion had sent up to me not but an hour after Thranduil arrived home. He was quite persistent that I had to follow the instructions exactly as written by Lord Elrond himself because, and I quote; 'It has to be just right or the fragile healing may be jeopardized.' Good grief! I don't think this little control freak realises that I have been under Calanon's tutelage since I got here. I think I know how to make an elvish healing balm by now…ugh!

As I vent my frustrations on the mushy substance in front of me, I absently sigh and flick my head up to shake flyaway hairs from my eyes. When I do, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror hung on the far wall of our bedchamber and groan. This is not exactly how I wanted to look on the very first night my long absent lover returns from the wars. I swear my hair just refuses to do anything other than kink up messily at the ends…it will neither curl nor stay straight…so a messy bun is hardly going to improve matters. And this dress…my working shift dress…what was I thinking? Has it really been that long that you cannot remember to put in a teensy bit of effort Clara! Hmm…maybe I could change quickly before Thranduil finishes putting the children to bed – but into what? This is ridiculous, why am I having this inner debate whilst mixing a poultice, and brewing healing tonics on the fire? This is not even a romantic reunion. He needs rest, and healing, and I really need to stop being so neurotic.

With a disgusted snort at my stupid internal ramblings, I rip the towel from over my shoulder to briskly clean my hands before scampering over to the fire to check the herbal tea bubbling away contentedly. I pop the lid off and breathe in the strong aroma – it smells vile, which means it is probably extremely good for you. I have made many of these teas before, and specifically for Legolas after his stab wound, so I know how unappealing they can be. In anticipation of this I have snuck in a jar of honey from the kitchens, and I plan to give my more than deserving husband a generous spoonful of it to dampen the nose crinkling taste. I am sure that will go down a treat, considering he has a notorious sweet tooth. I just want to make him as comfortable and relaxed as I possibly can, for I know he won't be given long to recover. I am sure there will be twittering of coronations and other such decadent fanfares by this time tomorrow, and as much I know this is necessary it doesn't make it any less daunting to listen to.

"My lady, would you like the bath water any warmer?" A servant elleth pipes up, making me jump slightly…I had completely forgotten I wasn't on my own.

Blinking robotically at the large and decadent copper rolled top tub – that had required three grown ellyn to drag into the bedchamber – I lean over the short distance from the fire to check the water. It is suitably roasting, and I merely shake my head at the young elleth before standing up and leaning over the water, enjoying the clammy steam as it seems to clear my muddled head.

"No that's fine, you can go on home now, I can take care of things from here," I whisper quietly as I rub the dull ache at the back of my neck, where the strands of my falling hair are beginning to stick to the now damp skin.

"Are you sure my lady…I can stay as long as you need?" She persists and I just smile tiredly in response at her concern.

"Honestly I am fine," I promise and incline my head towards the door; "Go…I am sure you have family or friends to welcome back. There are others more deserving of your attentions than I."

The elleth pauses and worries her lip slightly, but I can tell I have hit the nail on the head by the blush colouring her neck. I just chuckle happily and arch an eyebrow; "Oh I know that look, away with you now. Go give your hero his well-deserved welcome."

The rusty haired servant grins widely at my comment, and although she tries to hide the excitement in her features, she curtsies briskly and darts out the door without another word. I can't help my snigger at her behaviour, because I certainly did the same thing. Ah, young love it is just so energetic and all consuming – oh how I miss it. With a shake of my head I return to the task at hand, resolving that young love is wonderful but love that survives hate and pain is much more satisfying.

Fishing about in the pocket of my apron I find the vial of oils I had selected specifically for this bath. It is just a calming mixture of herbs and flowers, with just a hint of sandalwood and wintergreen oils to hopefully dull his pain. Well it's not like you can get aspirin around here, and I have found this is just as good. In fact, I might just change my mind and steal this bath instead of giving it to Thranduil. I could really do with a relaxing soak.

I guess I am a little too carried away with mixing the oils into the bath water, and a little too lost in my thoughts, that I don't register the movement in the room until strong arms wrap around my middle and draw me close. So used to being on my own I give a loud gasp at the unexpected touch, but giggle softly when Thranduil squeezes me tightly against him.

"Careful, I could have stabbed you?" I chuckle, as I scoop up the glass vial I dropped in the tub in my shock. "I'm not used to ellyn sneaking up behind me anymore…you are going to have to try and break me in slowly again."

"There better not have been any strange ellyn lurking around my home and sneaking up on my beautiful wife," Thranduil threatens weightlessly, as I cannot help my loud laugh at the ridiculous insinuation.

"No she'd likely stab them with a dangerous shard of medicinal glass," I smirk and waggle my weapon of choice in front of me; "I'll have you know I've become quite deadly with one of these bad boys."

"Mhmm…I can see that," Thranduil murmurs into my neck, as he kisses me along my exposed shoulder again, pausing briefly by my ear; "Are we sharing this wonderfully inviting bath…it may be a little snug but I shan't complain."

"Hmm, nice try," I grin as I twist around and peck him forcibly on the cheek; "As much as I love that idea, this is all for you, as per strict instructions from young sir Galion but – I admit the oils and the fire, and the extra comforts were my idea."

"Always so thorough and considerate," Thranduil chuckles as he steps with me, refusing to let me completely untangle myself from him; "Surely you would not make me bathe alone, it would be so lonely, and you would not want to be so negligent to your patient?"

"I do believe bathing with patients is strictly prohibited," I smirk as I pace away from him and point authoritatively at the tub; "You – in that bath this instant! I don't tolerate difficult patients, besides I need to take a look at these wounds."

"Ai," Thranduil sighs loudly and rolls his eyes towards the ceiling before he starts undressing; "Well so much for romance."

"Oh hush up," I snigger and turn my back on him to lay out clean bandages, and draw back the bed clothes. If all this works as it should he will be crawling into bed after that bath, and that should be before the tea knocks him out.

"So did the children go to bed for you…or did they play up?" I ask casually, still with my back to him, determined to keep the conversation as normal and as far away from war as possible. We have had such a normal day, just talking and playing together as a family, in our own home surrounded by our comforts. All this in my attempt to make things as easy and pain free for everybody as possible, for I'm certain things will get a little difficult as time goes on.

"They were fine. Celairiel practically put herself to sleep going over every last detail I missed in my absence. " Thranduil chuckles fondly, and I hear him wrestle with his clothing as I busy myself collecting all the bits and bobs i require, ensuring I give him the space he needs. "And Legolas is relaxing in his rooms with possibly a half-eaten jam tart from the kitchens…well I admit…maybe there is a quarter of it left."

I smirk and shake my head at the confession…he really is a sweet tooth, sadly so is his son. I hear the slosh of water and the ensuing yelp as Thranduil obviously tests the scalding water. I lift a handful of fresh towels and spin without thinking, to face my mate with an amused smile. The smile is short lived and I instantly let out a gasp and drop the towels, before throwing my hands to my mouth to stifle a shocked gasp.

My reaction automatically causes Thranduil to reel backwards, and he self-consciously reaches for the towel warming over the fire guard. He literally glows scarlet as he twists away from me and hastily tightens the rough cloth around his waist, although I am not sure what good that would do. Even under the thin layer of bandage left I can still see the extent of the horrendous wound. Its thick black and purple veins stretching across his stomach, and when he turns I see a similar pattern on his back… that was a sword…he was completely skewered! I can't control the tears that brim my eyes as I rush to his side to stop him from turning away from me.

"No…no, don't you dare turn away from me!" I snap and tug his shoulders, forcing him to face me. I take a settling breath and quickly wipe the traitorous tears from my eyes before I continue; "It's alright, I'm okay, it was just a little shock."

"I am not expecting you to care for me Clara…you really do not have to do this," Thranduil mutters uncomfortably; "There are healers to do this, and I certainly would prefer to not cause you any distress."

"Yes but I would prefer to know," I reply simply and stretch my hand up to stroke his cheek; "This isn't distress, this is just shock, but remember I've seen much worse." A small, but hopeful smile timidly begins to form on my husband's lips, as he lets me start to unravel the bandaging.

"It umm…well…there was some infection in the wounds, that is why the veins are discoloured." Thranduil tells me in a nervous voice as I reveal more of the healing wound. He points around the main site, where surgery was obviously preformed, and clears his throat; "Err…I believe they had to mend some damage internally…but I was fortunate there was no major damage to vital organs. I mean it is probably not as bad as it looks, it feels infinitely better than it did a few months ago."

"Well the wound has healed really well," I nod in agreement and try to keep my voice even and void of emotion. I press my fingers along the puckered and greying flesh; "It healed slowly I assume; most likely a black poison from the orc blades. The poultice I made, well it is more of a balm, it will ensure the scarring tissue adheres properly and hopefully encourage this injured flesh to renew itself. I mean I am not the best healer, and I will need a second opinion, but I would say another few months will see it greatly improved. If this rate of healing continues it will be nothing more than a fine scar by this time next year – you'll not even know it was there."

"Well that is promising," Thranduil nods and then blows out a long low sigh. "I would rather not have to disguise yet another horrific scar."

"No, you shouldn't need to, this one is definitely more straightforward," I confirm with a jerky bob of my head, and then gesture to the bath water with a shy smile; "The water should be comfortable now."

Thranduil lets out a soft chuckle and turns to ease into the tub. I twist away ever so bashfully, not because I am embarrassed for I know every single inch of him, but part of me still marvels at his physique. Even stooped and wearied from war, he is just…well he is still enough to cause me to catch my breath and make me lose my nerve. I give myself a chiding cluck before I return to fixing up the lotions and potions I intend on using, ignoring the heat that rises in my cheeks from the satisfied sighs coming from the direction of the tub.

"Clara, meleth, stop fussing," Thranduil sighs contentedly with his eyes shut and his head resting comfortably against the rolled edges of the bath. i pause my scuttling about to peer questioningly at his slightly sarcastic tone, and I narrow my eyes when I spy the smirk playing on the corners of lip. He breathes out a long huff of air before rolling his eyes open and regarding me with a teasing look; "No really…you are irritating me."

"I beg your pardon!" I squeak shrilly and snap up straight to glare indignantly at him. Placing my hands on my hips and jut my chin defiantly; "You don't get to come home after all this time and boss me around you know. I can be as noisy and irritating as I like…I have lost time to catch up on."

"I'm teasing you," Thranduil laughs loudly in response to the childish stamp of my foot that i make to round off my statement. I give a wide grin in return upon hearing the sound of his laughter, and watching how his eyes light up and his face brightens when he is truly joyful. I have missed the infectiousness of his spirit, so when he outstretches his hand lazily to me I bound up to him like a love sick puppy.

"Don't you dare try and soak me," i warn and pull up a small foot stool so i can sit at a comfortably height by his head.

"I promise I will do no such thing," He chuckles tiredly as he entwines our fingers together and pulls my hand to rest against his lips; "Just sit still for a minute! Sit with me and give me your time…I have barely spoken with you all day."

"Alright, okay!" I relent and lean lazily against the tub, using my free arm to rest my chin upon. "So here I am, sitting and listening, as requested. What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything, I just want to hear you talk," He tells me with a weary look, as he stretches out and winces slightly in obvious pain. With a knowing grin I straighten up and soak a sponge in the fragrant water.

"Okay, I will talk if you let me clean you up a bit," I offer and begin squeezing the comforting water along his chest, up his shoulders, and down his back. Thranduil gives a little grunt of appreciation, before nodding in agreement and closing his eyes again.

So I talk, or I hum, about nothing inconsequential and busy myself with my task. It is oddly intimate and I find a great deal of peacefulness in the act of just washing. To feel his warm skin under my cooler touch almost gives me a pleasurable tingling sensation in my fingertips. The contented aura surrounding our mending bond has an oddly strengthening effect. In fact at times I am convinced I can almost feel our spirits palpate in unison, as if they are steadily falling into a familiar rhythm again, drawing us close - i have sorely missed this. Since the moment I felt his fea tear from mine we have never been the same, we seemed to have been thrown off balance, and now I can sense our peace returning. We are slowly finding each other again, and it makes my heart flutter ecstatically in my chest - I am almost breathless.

I take my time looking after him, for I suppose that long weeks of travel and countless years of war don't exactly allow time for little moments of luxury. His hair is in the worst state I believe I have ever seen it, and part of me enjoys the satisfaction of washing and preening it to an inch of its life. Thranduil never lets me touch his hair, but his injuries mean he can't quite twist and reach as he would like to, which means i get to play with his hair…oh I am such a girly girl. He moans and gripes of course, muttering that I am too rough or that I have human hands - which basically translates to, i am to hasty and brash with my movements. I ignore him, for his hissing is weightless and its not the first time we have engaged in a little water fight.

Once he is satisfied that he is clean…or more that the water is probably freezing by now…we retire to the bed. Thranduil obediently does as he is bid, and doesn't argue with me or attempt to stop me from carrying out my treatments. He merely lies outstretched on our bed and stares blankly at the ceiling above - watching his stars. it is like he is ignoring the shame and the weakness of his situation, because more than once i peek up from my work inspecting and loosening the scar tissue, to see his cheeks flush and his jaw tense in rage.

"You won't need all the extra wrapping," i chuckle and wave the old bandages at him, in my small attempt at cracking a joke and diffusing the tension. "Well you won't as long as you promise not to go about any strenuous activity."

"I told the healers i did not require the excessive dressings weeks ago, they never listen." Thranduil huffs slightly, and appears to bite down on his cheek his eyes glaring icily overhead. "They treat me like some kind of fragile doll! Always pawing and prying…i could not even cough without one of them crawling all over me with their instruments!"

"Oh Thranduil," I tsk weightlessly and shake my head suppressing a chuckle; "They are only doing their job. Above all others protect and defend the life of the King…that is one of their oaths you know." i innocently remind my suddenly frozen husband, and I gently finish securing the clean linen over the main wound site before sitting back on my knees and observing him questionably;

"We don't have to talk about it, and I promise I won't ask you to divulge anything to me until you are ready. But, the truth of the matter is you are their King now…our King…and they are sworn to serve you, so don't direct your confusion or hurt onto them. They just want to help, they want to make it easier…let them."

Thranduil doesn't answer me for the longest time, instead he seems to thoughtfully consider my statement and I am glad he does. I know and understand how easy it is to blame everyone on your grief and guilt, and I really don't want him to do that. I don't want him to be frightened or to hate the position he has inherited. He could do great things -be great things - he just needs to recognise that he has the ability, and not to be consumed by the horrible reasons for how he ended up in this position. I am sure it will be difficult for him, for all of us, but I will try my hardest to remind him of the good reasons - the reasons his father would want him to uphold and remember.

"I apologise," Thranduil eventually sighs, and gives me a sidelong glance whilst pursing his lips in careful consideration of his next statement. "it seems I have forgotten I am in the presence of a caring queen, who understands the hearts of her people better."

"Hmm, was that a compliment or a sarcastic remark," I smirk as I curl my finger and gesture for him to sit up straight, so I can secure the bandage in place.

"Maybe a little of both" Thranduil replies guiltily as he helpfully sits up and stretches appropriately for me. "But you may have stung my ego a little."

"But isn't that my job?" I ask whilst brandishing a wide and innocent look of complete disbelief. This earns me a soft shove that has me collapsing on the bed, but before I can scramble back into sitting Thranduil winds his arm around my middle and draws me into him.

"Not your only job," He sniggers, but I can hear the exhaustion in his voice and I know he is not fit for this frolicking…as much as he thinks he is. So I don't fight him and instead curl into his side, whilst plumping the pillows at our backs so he can sit up comfortably. He raises an eyebrow at my fussing but doesn't resist, instead he nestles himself into the downy pillows and makes me sit snugly against his chest.

"I'm not hurting you am I?" I query worriedly, and bite my lip as he winces and wriggles, his jaw tensing occasionally a sure sign of his pain; "Here let me get the tea…the tea will help."

"I don't want the damn tea!" Thranduil practically growls and clamps his hand possessively around my shoulder, restricting my movement. I flinch at the impatience in his voice, and automatically swivel my head to gape rather shockingly at him. He registers the panic in my features and instantly deflates, his shoulders sagging considerably as his voice softens; "I didn't mean for that to come across like that, I just mean that I would rather not have the tea just yet."

"But, it will help with the pain…it will help you sleep?" I encourage in soft words, and watch him hopefully.

"I do not want to sleep Clara…not yet," He whispers quietly, his voice cracking a little with tiredness as he brushes the wisps of fallen hair from my face.

"Thranduil…" My warning voice trails off when his fingertips slide down the tingling skin of my chest to rest on the already loosened top button of my horrid shift dress. i clear my throat and determinedly look him in the eye, but when I do his longing gaze sort of floors me, and I really feel like I have no right, or should I say no want to refuse him.

"The healers - they give me those teas every night to make me sleep - I loathe it!" Thranduil murmurs softly, as he plays with the loosened button gently, making my heart stutter. However I see how his eyes cloud over, and I sense a panic bubble up in his quietened fea, and I can't seem to quell it all I can do is listen; "They think they are helping me, forcing my body to rest so I can heal, but they don't realise that my mind never rests. Every time I sleep I keep reliving it, every moment, over and over until I wake myself screaming. They think it is the physical pain or night terrors, I don't correct them, it is better if they don't know. So no Clara, I do not want to sleep tonight..I would rather take the discomfort than ruin this. I don't want to remember…I just want to forget…please don't force me…"

"Ssshh," I soothe and run my fingers through his hair, drawing his forehead forward so it touches mine. "I understand, you don't have to try and explain it."

Thranduil gives me a timid smile, and I allow him to lean into me and steal a feather light kiss. The tension from before seems to dissipate and I am glad, but I am worried that these memories have traumatised him to the point of panic and stressed behaviour. I make a little mental note to discuss my concerns with Calanon in the morning, before my attentions are drawn back to the moment.

Thranduil's lips are moving a little more desperately against mine, and his fingers have deftly unbuttoned most of my dress, at least all the way to waist. Thranduil tries to turn onto his side, and in doing so let's out a predictable hiss and rather loud curse. I give a little sigh and roll of my eyes, as I break the kiss and gently push him back into his previous seated position. He throws his head back and scowls furiously at the ceiling overhead, muttering something almost discernible as a self-loathing curse under his breath. I give his arm a comforting squeeze but he predictably ignores me, his ego and his pride too shamed. But I won't let him turn away so easy…not now that he has planted the thought in my mind and the desire in my spirit.

"Are you really giving up that easy?" I tease as I crawl over his lap, and gingerly straddle his hips, being careful to gauge his mood. Thankfully his head snaps up and he regards me with a sort of dazed expression. I slip my arms out of my dress allowing it to fall around my waist, and then I blush brightly at my brashness, as I move the coverlets and towels away to reveal more of him.

Thranduil reflexively sits up straighter, one of his hands instinctively maneuvering me closer so he can reach. I let my hands rake through his hair as I draw his lips up to meet mine, my breath coming in sharp and quick inhales, and my chest heaving the closer he comes to touching me. I watch as his eyelids flutter shut, his lips parted just a little and I practically inhale the sweet scent of his breath…oh how I have dreamt of this! He was right, there is no memory that could replace the euphoria of truly being together.

"Thranduil…" I whisper breathlessly against his lips, as his hands timidly rest at my waist. He peeks up at me, his beautiful eyes a little uncertain but there is eagerness and longing hidden in their silvery depths that sends my heart soaring. "Thranduil, love…will you not touch me?"

The request barely leaves my lips, and suddenly his warm hands snake up the prickling skin of my back so as to entangle in my hair until he finds the tie and removes it. His hands clamp into fists around my messy waves as they tumble over my shoulder to my waist, and with a passionate groan he pulls my lips to his. The kiss is captivating and it completely ignites my slowly kindling spirit, so much so that I almost forget to be gentle with him as I crush my self to him, imagining our spirits melding together.

Thranduil responds to my enthusiasm with just as much unbridled desire. His hands slide over my chest, caressing and occasionally roughly kneading my breasts. Those incredible hands are quickly replaced with experienced lips and an explorative tongue, and I can barely contain my breathless cries and unraveling moans as I grip fistfuls of his hair at his crown. i burrow my face into his neck, and frantically kiss and nip his ear, whispering for him praises and passionate encouragements. It feels like his hands are burning into my skin, and the faster we become acquainted with one another the harder it is for either of us to slow down, or attempt to curb our arousal.

Eventually though, Thranduil pulls back and levels me with a hungry and smouldering look - It practically burns me up on the spot. I know that look, I know what he needs, for I truly need it to. With a little careful maneuvering, and some more desperate exploration, I find myself almost ready to surrender to my husband entirely, our spiritual bond practically humming with the joy of finally being unified and anchored after all these long and lonely years. We are almost completely and utterly together, and for the briefest second their is only us and nothing else. No memories, no pain, and no more fear.

"Clara?" Thranduil gasps almost breathlessly, his lips barely leaving mine as his hands force my hips downward to comply with his desire; "Meleth I want to see you…will you look at me?"

My eyelashes flutter open in shock, for I hadn't realised I wasn't looking at him, but when I do I suddenly feel very exposed and uncertain. In the brief stillness before the plunge I become acutely aware that it has indeed been years since I was in this position. My cheeks begin to blaze at the realisation that my husband is truly looking at me again for the first time in seven years. His penetrating eyes are so intensely focused that I feel completely disarmed in his presence. There are so many emotions staring back at me from those magnificent silvery blue lights, such soulful wisdom and love, yet incredible sorrow and confusion. There is even a part of his gaze that frightens me, for it is darkened and wild - some untameable part of him that he restrains, yet still it threatens to show itself in these moments of passion.

Nervously I manage a timid smile for him as I gently stroke his left cheek, attempting to gaze just as intently into his eyes as he does with mine. I note how his brows pull together, a flash of something like concern or pain wars within his features, and he quickly tries to find his voice again;

"Do you still love what you see?" He asks anxiously, and such a statement is met with my utter astonishment. I practically gasp at the insinuation, and shake my head involuntarily in response.

"Of course I love you…how could you even ask that? I love every part of you," I murmur breathlessly as I claw his face close to mine and kiss him so deeply and truthfully, just to prove to him the insanity of such a statement. His answering groan is electrifying, and I feel his body arch into mine, his hand securing my neck so that I cannot pull away from him.

"I am yours…Guren min gaim lín," Thranduil cries weakly, yet no less possessively in my ear as he draws me to him. I can barely hear or speak for the blood rushing in my ears, and my heart beating so wildly out of my chest. i am so ready to end this forced distance between us, and be done with the long years of loneliness.

In a moment everything is perfect, and entirely in its place, and then in the next it shatters with the loud crack of heavy oak doors being thrown back. The sound so thunderous that it echoes off the stone walls of our home with such force, that it sounds infinitely louder in our blissful and healing cocoon.

Thranduil's body goes rigid under me and my heart seizes in my chest at the sudden panic of the disturbance, but before I can fully understand the sound I am being captured in an iron grip. Letting out an almost inaudible shrill gasp at the movement, I find myself twisted and pinned defensively under my husband. His chest heaves under the strain of the movement and his fraying nerves. I stare in wide eyed panic as he holds me uncomfortably against the bed, his eyes terror filled and faraway from me. Every part of his being on edge, every sense flared and ready for battle, and I am not sure if I can reach him? Or if it is even safe to speak?

"Thranduil…love?" I call quietly and wrestle gently against his grip; "Thranduil it was an outside door banging…it's alright…you're okay."

I wait patiently while he works his breathing down to a normal rate, and then i wait some more as he begins to register that there is indeed nothing about to kill us. After several seconds I feel his grip loosen on one of my arms so I tug it away to tentatively touch his cheek. He flinches automatically at my touch and stares blankly at me, like he isn't there, like I am not dealing with an elf but a wild creature. I part my lips as if to speak, but I find no comforting words worth using. Instead I place my freed hand on his abdomen and press it carefully in my attempt to get him to roll back because he'll only hurt himself. But when I begin to get him to move I hear more doors banging open forcibly, and raised voices. I hear footsteps and guards shouting, there are angry words in the air and I am certain what was left of our peace has been shattered. With an angry scowl I force my arms into my dress and hastily button it up;

"They could not even give us one night!" I hiss furiously as I wrestle with the buttons, and then try to smooth my hair. "Stay here!" I order my still silent husband as he painfully reaches for a floor length forest coloured robe strewn over the foot of the bed.

"It is to be expected," Thranduil answers me bitterly and struggles to pull himself upright, his face drawn and pale. I instantly regret the strain I put on him in my selfishness…I should have been stronger, I should have made me take the tea.

"You need to rest…I ordered them to give you tonight to rest! I will speak with them." I answer forcibly as I come to his side to help tie up the robe properly. In answer he merely waves his hand dismissively and attempts a half hearted smile, but is seems more like a grimace.

There is another load bang and more angry shouting coming from the what seems like our private lounges. Both our heads snap in unison to the door, and both of us glare indignantly at the intrusion - no one is allowed to enter the inner private rooms of the King without permission or advanced invitation from a member of the royal family. It is strictly prohibited. Before either of us can make for the exit, the sound of bare feet padding urgently across stone and the soft whimpers of an alarmed child can be heard just beyond our door.

"Nana…Ada!" Celairiel calls into our room as she throws her weight against our heavy door. "Why are they shouting?"

Swiftly I turn my back on my distressed daughter to finish buttoning my dress, and taking a settling breathe. I make a mental note to check the locks on the doors before I retire to bed, if she had of been a few seconds earlier there would have been much more interesting explanations required. Curse whoever it is that just ruined my peace tonight..dammit it all, do they know how hard it is to get my daughter to sleep? This will cause problems I know it! I could cheerfully choke the intruders.

"Come here laes," Thranduil murmurs comfortingly and by the time I have turned around, he is carefully picking her up; "It is alright…hush now, there is no need for tears."

"Do not let them take Nana again!" Her terrified sobs cut me deep, and in her fear she buries her head into her father's neck. "Please Ada…I don't want them…make them go away."

"Celairiel…where has this come from, why would I let them take your Naneth?" Thranduil throws me a perplexed look, which grows ever more concerned when I ultimately don't respond and instead clutch my forehead worriedly. When I don't answer he turns his attention back to the panicked and wailing elfling in his arms, and begins to rhythmically hush her.

Barely a moment later the door knocks to our bedchamber and before I can open it, Tinuben's familiar head peers around the corner, his features a mixture of irritation and remorse;

"I am so sorry your majesties but a member of Galour's house is demanding to see the King…he will not take no for an answer."

"Well you may tell whoever it is I shall see them shortly, once I calm my terrified child!" Thranduil bites back icily and twists away from Tinuben to quietly continue nursing our little one.

"Who is it?" I mouth worriedly at my dear friend, and ignore the clenching feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had hoped to not have to disclose the events that led to Galour's imprisonment so soon with Thranduil. I wanted to give him peace, for I know this information will not be met with the slightest bit of understanding. Judging by his mood, Galour will be lucky if he walks away from this with limbs intact.

"Apparently a surviving Nephew of Galour's….he has returned from the wars to find his family name in dishonour and the assets of his house frozen." Tinuben answers dryly and gives me a disgusted look; "He does not believe his uncle capable of such devices. He wants an investigation into your claims…he wants the King to draw fair judgment."

"An investigation?" I balk and glare furiously at the floor for a few seconds, in an attempt to curtail the explosion of curses threatening to bubble up from my chest; "He is lucky I showed Galour the mercy I did!"

"Well I tried to inform him of this when he dragged me from my bed - and every member of the disbanded council - to discuss the matter," Tinuben scowls and waves his hand flippantly in the air; "It is utter nonsense, and not a state emergency…still he has the right to demand fair judgement from his King…every civilian does."

"And why would Galour require a fair trail?"

I sigh sadly at the exasperated, yet clearly irked sound of Thranduil's voice. I turn slowly to find him standing rather intimidatingly close, his eyes cold and relatively void of compassion. I know it isn't directed at me, but it is no less frightening.

"It is a long story," I groan and rub my forehead again, that irritating dull throb setting in.

"Evidently so," Thranduil growls and hands me our daughter, whom I instantly take out of his quivering arms. "But do feel free to enlighten me, there is a mob in my lounge that would suggest it is a story worth hearing! What happened Clara? What are you hiding from me?"

"Mind your tongue," I snap back and soothingly stroke Celairiel's soft hair to remain calm. "You have absolutely no need to be so cutting with me. I only refrained from telling you tonight because I wished to see you well rested, I was not hiding anything! Your health and wellbeing is of much higher importance to me than an imprisoned and traitorous lord…who does not deserve even a minute of your time for his crimes against your family name."

Thranduil narrows his eyes at me, and I watch his jaw clench in frustration but he doesn't answer back. He simply nods coolly as I glare back in defiance, I never was and never will be frightened by his temper or his cutting sarcasm - especially when it is misplaced. He knows I don't tolerate being an emotional punch bag for his problems. I didn't accept it the first time around with his dragon injuries, I am hardly going to start now.

"What happened?" He directs the question in a hard voice to a rather uncomfortable Tinuben, whilst reaching out to steady himself on the doorpost - his strength waning considerably.

"At the time of your supposed death Galour took control of the council, and made out that there was no final dictation from your father that commanded Clara be your son's regent." Tinuben begins carefully and pulls nervously on the sleeve of his black robe; "He stripped your wife of her titles, and withheld your children from her. He claimed that she was unfit to raise elflings, and had claimed she had no connection to Legolas…he threatened to cut all her access to her daughter if she did not adhere to her new demoted status. He called it mercy, he wanted control my lord."

"Is this the truth?" Thranduil practically snarls as he turns to me with such ferocity that I step back; "Did the council allow this to happen?"

"Their hands were tied," I answer calmly and attempt to remain composed as I dredge up the memories. "Galour had either destroyed or hidden the evidence. If it was not for Tinuben and other loyal members of the court I would not have been in the position you found me in today. We found the official documentation, and I overturned the decree. As punishment I had Galour and the members of his house imprisoned - including his wife - and had the council stepped down until you could return and judge fairly. But yes…what Tinuben said is true. Galour verbally admitted to plotting treason, and expressed his disdain for your mother and your poor choice of queen. He vowed he would never recognize my right to rule, or your claim as heir - he believes he had the stronger claim over the silvan folk, for your father was nothing more than a pauper's prince."

"It is true Thranduil," Tinuben interjects softly and attempts to catch his eye, but my husband's gaze has drifted away from us and he stares resentfully at the ground. "He said such things in the presence of witnesses…witnesses who are prepared to testify to the truth of Clara's story…including me. She speaks the truth."

"Of course she does!" Thranduil spits vehemently at Tinuben and the smaller elf recoils instantly from his anger. I throw my arm out to rest against his chest, in my attempt to pacify him and remind him his daughter is still very much present.

"My lord," Tinuben begins carefully; "His nephew is here requesting fair judgement…how do you wish to proceed?"

"Fair judgement?" Thranduil snorts and shakes his head viciously; "Oh I can assure you his judgment will be fair, and fitting. Gather the witnesses, I will see Galour's nephew in the council chamber now!"

"Yes my lord," Tinuben bows swiftly and practically bolts from the room, leaving the three of us in a tense and weighted silence for several minutes.

"You should have told me," Thranduil murmurs in an empty voice, his arm still outstretched and leaning against the doorpost. "I am not as fragile as you seem to think."

"I never said you were fragile," I reply simply as I stride over to our bed to settle Celairiel down into the warm covers. "But I stand by what I said, I care little for issues regarding the council, you are my priority. This could have waited until you were rested and strengthened."

"Did he hurt you?" Thranduil quickly changes the subject and looks me over appraisingly, obviously deciding not to challenge my decision in the matter.

"No," I reply as I turn to face him and take his hands in mine, before smiling broadly up at him. I will be damned if Galour starts a fight in out home, or causes a rift between my husband and I. This is our home, and our marriage…nothing will ever be strong enough to destroy what we have, not even war or death. I reach up on my tiptoes and place a kiss on Thranduil's cheek to remind him of this, and to remind him that their is no bad blood between us and this is still a perfect reunion…at least in my eyes. He gives me a tiny smile in return, but I see the concern etched in his features and before he can articulate another worried question, I place a finger to his lips and smirk;

"I am not as fragile as you seem to think."


Oh Galour is going to get his ass kicked from here to doomsday! Mehehe

Translations: Guren min gaim lín - My heart is in your hands (also what Thranduil said to Clara on their "wedding night").

Laes - apparently means the endearment"baby" I thought it was too cute not to try out.

I am just going to update...because I have written out the thanks notes several times for them to be lost each time. And I am sure none of you want to listen to me droning on. But THANK YOU EVERYONE...FRIENDS, READERS, HATERZ (yes trollerz gonna troll hehe)...almost 1K favorites that is insane and I could never have dreamed of such following. Utterly blessed and loving every minute.