A few steps in, Morwinyon realized that Haldir had stopped walking. She looked over her shoulder: he stood barely inside the trees and his face had drained of its normal color, leaving a sickly grey-green in its place.

"Haldir?" she asked.

He swallowed hard, as if against bile, and said, "Do you not feel that?"

"The forest?" she asked. "Of course. It is worse nearer Dol Guldur, they tell me."

Haldir stared at her as a breeze rattled through the trees, swirling leaves around their feet and sending his hair flying back. Hers, securely braided, moved only a little.

"I am used to it," she told him, turning back to the path. "I was born here, you know."

She heard him swallow, but he followed her with halting steps. She had to reevaluate Elrond, if the forest affected Haldir so: Elrond had not, after all, looked as though he would vomit while he had visited.

The forest lingered in her mind, falling over itself like Tari and Nion had when they were small, when she returned from scouting and they wanted to tell her everything that had happened in her absence. She heard no more distinct words, but sometimes she had not with Tari and Nion either, and she had still smiled and asked them to repeat themselves more slowly.

It was worth a try, she supposed.

Hello, she thought, and stumbled at the avalanche of feeling it shoved at her.

"A moment?" she asked Haldir tightly. She leaned her forehead against a tree without waiting for a response.

I do not know what you want from me, she tried, and heard an echoed mine mine mine.

Was this what Thorin had felt in the mountain?

As if it had heard her, the forest drew back enough for her to draw a breath. It felt vaguely insulted.

I am sure you are kinder than the mountain, she assured it, unsure if it was true, and wondered how much the forest influenced her father and how much her father influenced the forest.

The forest subsided, mollified for the moment.

She looked at Haldir, who still did not look well, and tried to impress upon the forest that Haldir was a friend. He came to ensure I arrived safely.

The forest went suddenly quiet, and Haldir gasped as if he had been underwater and only now come up for air.

"Better?" Morwinyon asked.

"I understand why you have no need for border guards," Haldir managed. "You could have warned me."

Morwinyon shrugged instead of telling him that she had no idea if Mirkwood was always like that, or even if it listened to others aside from her.

The path was not even beneath her feet, but it was clear and sure. There should have been scouts farther in, and guards closer to the halls themselves, but they saw no one and nothing - not even the leaves of the trees rustled. Aside from that one early gust, there were no breezes to ruffle the leaves.

Haldir walked closer and closer to her, nearly stepping on her heels by the time they reached the entry bridge.

Here there were guards, but they said nothing until she and Haldir had crossed halfway, when finally another gust of wind blew through.

One elf gave a short, bitten-off exclamation, raising his bow: the other steadied her spear. Morwinyon halted, Haldir behind her.

"Who is it who thinks to visit the halls of Thranduil thus?" the spear-wielder called.

"How else would we visit?" Morwinyon asked. "I did not wish to swim."

"Lady Mirwen?" the elf with the bow demanded, and Morwinyon realized he was Tundir.

Still? Really? Another longer wind blew past her, throwing leaves into Tundir's face. They missed the other elf by inches.

Oh, stop it, Morwinyon thought at Mirkwood. It subsided with a sulky murmur.

From the way the other elves shot nervous looks at the trees, she was not the only one who heard it this time.

"I still prefer Morwinyon," she said, drawing their attention back to her. "I come to bring warning to my father's halls, and with me comes Haldir of Lothlorien."

She had not asked his lineage, she realized. Someday she would remember to learn everyone's names.

When they said nothing, she added helpfully, "As you can see, I am not dead."

The guard with the spear snorted and promptly clapped a hand to her mouth. Morwinyon looked more closely and recognized Elien. She took it as a good sign that Inwiel's eldest held a spear and not a sword, as she had in Galadriel's mirror.

"React as you will," Morwinyon told her, and ruefully continued, "It is not as if your mother has not earned you the right after all these years."

"My mother mourned you," Elien replied. "We all did. And Tauriel-"

"I do not wish to speak of Tauriel," Morwinyon said.

"Wonders never cease," Tundir muttered.

"Are these questions to confirm my identity, or only to chide me? I have been chided plenty of late, but I will accept more from Inwiel's daughter if she feels it owed."

Haldir, in the corner of her vision, raised an eyebrow, and Tundir looked shamefacedly to the side. She was not sure if he was shamed for the things she thought he should be or just because she did not think he had a right to her time.

Elien said, "I will save my chiding for later, Lady. You will receive that and more when you enter."

Morwinyon winced. "Perhaps my father should be notified ahead of my actual arrival."

"Not your brother?" Tundir asked.

"My brother is not here," Morwinyon replied. "The Lady Galadriel told me so. If you question her, I am afraid Haldir will be upset. May we enter, or would you like further proof that I am me?"

Elien's brow quirked in humor. "Truthfully, that sentence is enough for me. No prettier words, Morwinyon?"

"You never teased like this when I was young," Morwinyon said crossly.

"You are not even three hundred years old," Elien replied. "You are still young."

Morwinyon almost protested: I have fought a dragon, she almost said. I have birthed children and been widowed and fought orcs and goblins aplenty. I killed Azog the Defiler. I am all but lorekeeper for a Dunedain clan, and they respect me enough to heed my thoughts on their ruler. I do not feel young.

But she had not felt young in Mirkwood either, and she had been. She had not even known what it meant that the forest tried to speak to her, and she had not known what it would mean to go and fail to return.

So she shrugged and agreed, "There are many with many more years."

Elien jerked her head at Tundir, and he slipped inside ahead of them while they waited for an escort or relief.

"Your father is not here, you know," Elien said with deliberate casualness.

"What is the point of your lady if she will not give me pertinent information?" Morwinyon demanded of Haldir. Before he could leap to Galadriel's defense, she realized the importance of the remark.

"What do you mean, he is not here? He has not left his halls since-"

"Since you went to fight a dragon," Elien finished. "Well, so it was. He goes out now in the trees, in certain company."

Morwinyon's face must have shown her confusion, or maybe just the sudden stirring of the forest - will you stop - because Elien said, "He is trying, Morwinyon. He has always tried."

That he had failed she did not say. Morwinyon was not sure Elien would have agreed that Thranduil had failed.

And she had after all never asked Galadriel. She had not thought to, and perhaps Galadriel had thought she would not care.

I am trying too, she thought but again did not say. Her anger was unfounded in this at least: if Thranduil did not know she lived, he could not have inconvenienced her on purpose.

She did notice that after the first shock neither Elien nor Tundir had asked how she had come to be there so close and so unseen.

"Where did he go?" she asked.

"Scouting," Elien replied. "Or raiding. It is difficult to say these days, when the orcs creep closer from the south and Dol Guldur watches."

"They do not come only from the south," Morwinyon said, remembering Galadriel's mirror and the angle of the sun.

Peliwen skidded through the doors, catching herself on her sister's shoulder. "Morwinyon!"

Behind her were Tundir and Bruineth, the latter of whom essayed a short bow. "Lady."

"Peliwen, Bruineth," Morwinyon returned. "It is good to see you."

"Have you come home?" Peliwen asked, no recriminations to be seen, ink-stained fingers of one hand reaching out.

Morwinyon stared at it, wondering how much of her loneliness had been self-inflicted. She remembered tucking herself into corners and walking deserted halls, and Cevendis leaving out an extra sweet or roll, and here was Peliwen, glad to see her.

Thranduil had kept to his rooms when he did not have official business. Even the parties were staged, careful reminders to everyone that life could and would continue, and he had smiled coldly down on his subjects from the high table. How often had her people assumed she was the same as her father, with only Tauriel brave enough or close enough to ignore it?

Morwinyon took Peliwen's hand and pulled her into a hug. She had not come to Mirkwood for her father, she remembered. She had come for her people, who did not deserve to die because they had given their princess the privacy they thought she wanted.

"I do not come to stay," she admitted when she released Peliwen. "I have-"

She choked. She had almost said she had responsibilities. How callous would it be, to dismiss the ones she had here? How did people balance this sort of thing? If she had been truly a princess of Erebor, her responsibilities would have shifted: she would have been queen one day. A queen's duties superceded a princess'. Where did widowed princess stack up?

Mine, the forest reminded her.

"It is all very complicated," she said apologetically.

Behind her, Haldir snorted. It sounded very much like the sound Celeborn had made when Morwinyon had questioned Galadriel.

"You will want to clean up," Peliwen said firmly into the silence that resulted there. "And your companion…"

"Haldir of Lothlorien," Morwinyon replied automatically, for the second time.

"May want to rest."

Morwinyon blinked and looked over her shoulder. Haldir looked better than he had when they entered Mirkwood, but he did not look entirely happy either.

"I do not think I have ever seen your hair dishevelled before," she said.

He looked down his nose at her, which was a trick for someone shorter than she was. "How long have you known me, my lady?"

Peliwen grabbed them both by the arms and towed them inside before Morwinyon could respond.

Tauriel was not in the chamber with the king, for she might have been in his favor but sometimes that meant being assigned places away from possible danger rather than places she could do the most good. She tried not to be bitter.

She also tried not to upbraid the guards outside the door when Legolas came out, leading Morwinyon by the hand. Who thought it was a good idea to let a child walk into a conversation between their king and an emissary of evil?

She glared at the guards.

"Morwinyon," Legolas said, crouched down to meet her eyes, "I must go back inside."

His sister clung stubbornly to his hand. "Then you may take me with you," she said with all the grace of a monarch bestowing great honor. Tauriel tried not to grin.

"No I may not," Legolas replied vehemently. "You should not have been allowed to enter in the first place."

Tauriel sent a significant look at the guards. She could not see their faces through their helmets, but the one on the left shifted just enough that she rather thought he wanted to shuffle his feet.

"Whyever not?" the princess asked. "Am I not also a member of the royal family and responsible for the realm?"

"Not yet you are not," Legolas sighed. "You are a child still, Morwinyon, and I must return to Father."

She did not let go. Legolas looked around as if for inspiration, and his eyes lit on Tauriel.

Oh no, she thought.

"Tauriel," he said brightly. "I believe you know my sister."

"By reputation only," Tauriel replied. She looked down at the girl as she approached. Morwinyon looked back up at her. She really did look like Laeriel, right down to the shape of her nose.

"Morwinyon, Tauriel," Legolas said. "Tauriel, Morwinyon. Tauriel is my good friend, Morwinyon."

"You have friends?" Morwinyon asked. It might have been funny if the tone had been skeptical, but instead the girl sounded wistful. Her hair was braided back and out of her face, so Tauriel had a good view of the dark eyes that took her in from top to toe.

"I do," Legolas replied gently. "If you ask her nicely, Tauriel might agree to be yours as well."

He looked at Tauriel, and she noticed suddenly that the siblings might not have much resemblance in facial structure but they certainly had the same trick of widening their eyes so that you wanted to give them what they asked for. She sighed, but gave him a short nod.

"Well?" Legolas prompted his sister. She looked at him a moment, obviously unsure, and back at Tauriel.

"Is that all it takes?" Morwinyon asked. "Just asking?"

"It is as good a start as any," Tauriel told her.

"You must also be kind to your friends," Legolas said, because he took his duties very seriously. "And you must always listen."

Morwinyon nodded seriously. "I know that. I only did not know how to begin." She smiled hopefully at Tauriel and held out her hand. "Would you be my friend, please, Tauriel?"

Tauriel, obviously, said yes.