Apologies for the slight delay – holidays confuse me.

Chapter 29

The thunder of hoofbeats came accompanied by a thickening mass of grey clouds above the pine trees. The wind was quickly picking up and it blew my hair into my face. I brushed it away, grateful for to have something to do for anxiety had begun to twist deep in my stomach and I was tense. To my right stood Glorfindel, silent and grave, and his profile was sharp against the cooling light of the sun.

I should have sensed it, I knew. There had been a time when I had known before anyone else that riders, wanderers, travellers were crossing the border. It was not so long ago that I was aware of every attempt made to cross into Imladris. But as grief descended upon me my sight was dimmed and I had instructed Glorfindel to secure our borders and place our faith in the keenness of my guards instead as I dared not trust in my own skill any longer. I should have recovered that skill as I came out of the darkness, but perhaps I had been too preoccupied – too overwhelmed by my love for Legolas to give this proper consideration. Perhaps the threat of darkness lay still too near to my heart. In this moment, as the wind hurled down from the mountain sides, I knew Mithrandir had spoken truthfully when he said that I was not yet quite in tune with the world. And I knew I should be, and deep unease moved though me.

Somewhere behind me stood Legolas, but he had slipped from my grasp once Glorfindel had left us alone. I had not endeavoured to persuade him to wait for his father by my side (though I wanted it) for I could never force him into anything. Besides, we did not yet know the reason for Thranduil's visit and it might be that later we would find the perfect time to peacefully let him know of what had happened. Or so, at least, I told myself as the wind tugged at my hair and clawed at my robe. Yet in my heart, I think I knew the truth, but I feared it.

News of the Elvenking's impending arrival on my doorstep had spread through the house like a grass fire on a dry spring day. Several members of my household had appeared at the top of the stairs and many more were coming to linger in the doorway, apparently not keen to have their kirtles and dresses lifted in the eager winds that sped before the host of riders. Ere I turned back to stare at the tiled path that melted into my courtyard, I saw Elladan and Elrohir coming around a corner of the house, and Arwen was with them.

She hastened up to me while her brothers stayed behind. Her raiment was the rich blue of a summer sky and she shone like sapphire and was strong as diamond. But there was an uncertain light in her eyes now.

"Father," she asked, "what is going on?"

But I was not given opportunity to relay to her neither my suspicions nor my fears for now the first riders appeared on the path before us and they rode in single file for the stone bridge yonder was narrow. They were garbed in sombre greens and browns. In the back of my mind, the memory of the suffocating silence of Mirkwood stirred and, no matter how earnestly I tried to sense it, the power of Vilya on my finger seemed to me spent; and my throat tightened as if the wind was trying to strangle me.

Dust was kicked up and blown into our faces and I backed a few steps up the stairs, blinking in the waning light. I could smell the rain. There were more riders, dark of hair and grim-faced, and they filled my courtyard as the song of hooves upon stone rang out: urgent and harsh. Then he appeared.

While his guard was clad to resemble the shifting shades of his Forest, Thranduil had dressed to impress. Like a waterfall at midnight he gleamed and he rode a white stallion. His eyes found me even before he had fully reined in his horse. Grey they were, like ice, and just as clear, but in that hour there was in them a full storm.

"Elrond!" he called, and his voice was the crack of a whip.

The wind snapped in his fair hair as he swung down. It picked up his long robe and it floated out around him like a great dark silver wing. I swallowed as the anxiety within me rose to blister my chest from within. I feared him, I realised. Or I feared his judgement. For I knew then that he knew, however he had come by the knowledge, and I saw that he was furious.

"Thranduil," I began, and my voice came tight.

But he stayed my words with a look only. His horse restlessly tossed his head but Thranduil paid him no heed. As he strode towards me he was like the gathering clouds above.

"Nay!" he cried. Then his voice rose above the courtyard and all those who had assembled to watch: "You will not speak! For you would speak only lies and deny what has been told to me."

Dust crept down my throat. Beside me, Glorfindel shifted.

"Elrond…" Glorfindel's voice was low and spiteful. "He is fey. One more word from him and I end this."

"You shall not," I managed, though an iron grip was around my chest. Cautiously, I went down a couple of steps. "Thranduil," I began again, "come now, what is this folly? Had you but sent word in advance–"

"Oh, aye," he sneered, cutting me off, "would that not have suited your purpose?"

Behind him, the last riders were dismounting in a flurry of brown and grey and green but I had no attention to spare them. More distressing was that it looked to me as though what might be Thranduil's personal guard had formed up, and bows were in his archers' hands and full quivers were slung across their backs. But they made no move. The bite of the wind stung my cheeks as I made another attempt. I had come now to the bottom of the stair and he was close enough that I could see the tempestuous light in his eyes.

"Listen," I said, forcing calmness into my voice. "Will you not come inside so that we may speak in private?"

"Private?" He spat the words at my feet. His voice still stubbornly loud and clear: "These will not be words shed in private. For all shall know how you have seduced my son and forged with him such a relationship as was ever unheard of between an elven Lord and a Prince!"

The ground shook under my feet as his accusation rang between my walls and trees. And I felt this too: how it plunged deep into my pools and crashed into my rivers and leapt down the waterfalls. The truth as he would have it filled the Valley and I could not breathe.

"Do you deny it, Elrond?" he said, and the words rolled like thunder towards me. "That you have opened your heart to Legolas?"

Murmurs were all around us. They twined with the wind and the thickening clouds and it was then that the first raindrops began to fall. There was suddenly so much movement that my vision briefly failed, or perhaps it was the truth that finally shone forth in all its terrible glory that blinded me. I no longer felt the reassuring presence of Glorfindel at my back, nor the blessed glimmer of starlight that was my daughter. And the light of Legolas I felt not at all for dread filled my mind and it left no space for him.

"I do not deny it," I said at last, and my voice came from far away.

He was even closer now and his eyes had narrowed. I saw in them a mixture of emotions, too many to name.

I willed dusty, rain-filled air into my lungs and met his gaze, as firmly as I could. "I never could. I have taken him into my heart."

Thranduil stared at me and I could not read him. Then he lifted his eyes from my face. "Where is he?"

And so I turned and saw him immediately. His face was white. He had come about halfway down the stair but stood now as if frozen. Clad he was in a pale yellow that was the hue of the flowers that grew not far away, nestled as they were among the roots of the trees. But the rain was falling heavier now and was swiftly washing away any traces of sunshine that were still left in him. At the sight of him, even as water weighed me down, my heart twisted and in that moment I wanted only to go to him. And in that desire I found the strength that I needed. So it was that I drew myself up and turned to the Elf-King, and in my voice was echoed the sharp threat of Glorfindel:

"Thranduil," I said, "you will not curse him for this."

But Thranduil's face looked to me as if cut from marble. "You do not know me, Elrond," he said, low and hard. "You never did."

Then he gave me no choice but to follow him for he marched past me, unhindered by the rain and the wind. Indeed, he seemed a part of them as he swept up the stair, striding towards his son. In the courtyard, the other Mirkwood elves drew closer.

Legolas' eyes were the grey of the sky above and rain fell now into his face and hair. His lips were pale and parted and there radiated off him such fear that I made ready to step in front of him for in that moment I honestly thought that Thranduil intended to strike him. But the Elvenking stopped ere he was close enough, though he still seemed to tower over Legolas, and he raised no hand. Thrice, my heart beat wildly before Thranduil spoke again and his voice was loud enough for all to hear:

"Is this true? Have you bonded with him?"

At once, Legolas nodded.

The wind whistled past me and more rain blew into my face and yet I knew some shade of relief for I did not think I could have borne it had Legolas denied our love. Once again, a great urgency to go to him and embrace him came over me, but less now because I thought I needed to protect him and more because I wanted to somehow express my gratitude. And so the edges of my world softened just the slightest and it was that shift that made me start and recognise the fear that swam through me as not entirely my own. And I found him then within me: Legolas' thoughts had tangled with mine and the dread that roiled in my heart was our shared burden.

As soon as I had realised as much, realised how deeply we had truly connected, I desired even more strongly to take him in my arms, but before I had summoned enough determination and courage to openly display my affection for Legolas, Thranduil turned back to me. And it was then that I saw, through the wild dance of the weather, that something had crept into his eye, and they were gleaming. On his lips was the palest hint of a smirk.

"Now we shall speak in private," he said.

TBC