***

Lights twinkled in the forest around the palace, set up by the common folk as a manner of celebrating the prince's return. In the palace, people were bustling about like bees in a hive, worrying about what to wear, who to talk to, and what to say or do. Sarryia was not excluded in this practice, and presently she sat on the cushioned stool in front of her mirror with Rethenduile behind her, putting her hair into an elaborate bun.

Sarryia grinned at her reflection in the mirror. She could not remember the last time she had dressed up so glamorously. He dress was a pale blue, roughly the same as the scarf, and shimmered almost unnoticeably until she stepped into light. The fabric was soft and silky and draped easily about her shoulders. She was a bit worried at first of the plunging neckline, but soon she hardly noticed it at all.

Around her neck was the necklace she never took off – the one given to her by Ethreniel so long ago. To her ears, long dangling earrings of diamonds reached almost to her shoulders. Sarryia had a sneaking suspicion they were there just to make sure she kept her head up, but Rethenduile assured her they were merely for show. Her makeup was simple and hardly noticeable, though Sarryia noticed a special trick with it had caused her eyes to seem ten times larger. Still, it looked nice, she supposed.

Now, Rethenduile was in the process of putting her hair up into a ridiculously elaborate style that, Sarryia was sure, had probably taken up half the palace's supply of hair clips. Finally, with one last sigh of satisfaction, Rethenduile put the finishing touches on the hairstyle. Sarryia looked at the mirror, pleased. It was gorgeous.

"Oh, Rethenduile," she breathed. "You've outdone yourself!"

Rethenduile grinned broadly at the compliment.

"Milady will be the loveliest one tonight; I have made sure of that."

Sarryia sighed in exasperation.

"Rethenduile, please! I've told you a million times not to call me "milady"! For one thing, it's not my rightful title, and for another, it sounds ridiculous!"

Rethenduile rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, but Sarryia chose to ignore it. "Stubborn mule" indeed! She picked up the scarf and handed it to her maid. Looking up behind her, she grinned and shook the cloth around.

"Please?"

Rethenduile gave a snort and snatched it from her hand. Expertly, she draped it around her mouth first, then swept it up into her hair. A few seconds of skilled tying and sever mutters afterwards, the scarf had been secured in such a fashion that it seemed to blend naturally with her hair, hanging down to touch her bare back behind her earrings. The fabric was thin enough that you could still see her mouth through it, but the shimmering texture made it hard to identify the person using this. It was like wearing a mask of a face only slightly different than your own – perfect for the occasion.

"Well, Rethenduile, I think I'm ready. What time is it?"

At that precise moment, the rhythmic tolling of bells filled the thick summer air. Sarryia's eyes widened.

"That's the seven o'clock bell! I'm already late to my first banquet!"

Rethenduile laughed and shooed her out the door.

"Go on now! No need to tarry any longer! You can still be the last but most beautiful one to enter!"

Sarryia shot her friend a rueful smile and shot out the door. She ran down the hallway with her skirts hitched above her knee, praying not to trip or meet anyone while struggling to keep her head straight and her hair unruffled. It was quite a sight to see. She turned a corner and realized she had almost reached the large oak doors leading to the dining hall where the festivities were to take place. She skidded to an unladylike halt a few feet before the doors and found a somewhat secluded corner nearby where she could regain her breath.

"Late, Lady Iyarras?" a voice said behind her.

Sarryia jumped and spun around quickly. Leaning on the side of the wall, in his best silver tunic, was a grinning Legolas. Sarryia gave a sigh of relief that it was not someone that might have told her off.

"I might ask you the same, Legolas," she said, smoothing out her dress.

Legolas adopted a mock snobbish pose.

"When you're royalty, you do whatever you please, O Ignorant One! You, on the other hand, have no excuse!"

"I do too!" she protested. "I was just...er…getting some air. It's frightfully stuffy in there, you know."

Legolas nodded and grinned.

"Milady does have a point. Could I have the honor of escorting her?"

Sarryia was puzzled. She fiddled with her veil, not sure where this conversation was going.

"Escort me where?"

"Why, outside, of course!" Legolas laughed. "You said you needed some air, and I am inclined to agree. Trust me, no one will miss us for a couple of minutes. And besides, it's much better to avoid those prying councilors, always trying to make polite conversation while plotting the next move behind your back." He extended his hand towards her, much the way he had on that fateful meeting. "Please, milady? I would be honored."

Sarryia smiled and took his hand.

"Only if you stop calling me 'milady,' Legolas, or I shall start calling you "Your Highness."

Legolas grimaced and nodded.

"All right! No more milady, Iyarras. I shall simply call you by your name, as long as you stick to mine. Will that do?"

"Of course, Legs."

Legolas scowled but said nothing. He led her by small passages and stairways sure to be unfrequented, out large doors onto a balcony. Immediately, Sarryia realized that her statement had been correct. Here, her face was cooled by a breeze that carried the heavy fragrance of night flowers on it. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the stars appeared to be brighter than ever before. She walked forward a bit and placed her hands on the stone ledge, still slightly warm from the day's sun.

"Oh, Legolas," she murmured, "it's lovely."

"You know," he said, still keeping the mood light, "it is not absolutely necessary for you to keep that thing on when we are not in the company of others."

Sarryia blushed and pulled the veil down a bit so that it around her neck. She inhaled the night air deeply, relishing the moment.

"So," Legolas said casually, leaning on the balcony beside her, "where exactly did you come from? It was quite a surprise to find you in such a state in the woods, I can assure you."

"It's…a long story. I will tell it to you later, perhaps. I do not like recalling it."

Legolas nodded understandingly and scooted fractionally closer. Or maybe that was just Sarryia's imagination. She felt a thin trickle of sweat run down her back. Get a hold of yourself! She thought furiously. You are acting like a child! She listened for a moment to the music drifting out of the palace, waiting for Legolas to say something. Instead of doing so, however, he turned his head towards her and simply looked. Looked, with those deep, brown, endless eyes that Sarryia felt went on forever. She rested her elbow and turned her head towards him, fixing him with her own powerful gaze.

They stood there, stock-still, with the music floating around them on the heavy air, learning things even the other did not know. Neither moved a muscle. Sarryia wondered what was going on behind those eyes. She desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, but still made no move. She fixed her foggy gray eyes on his and tried to decipher the mystery of a man across from her.

Suddenly, Legolas' arm moved. Sarryia followed it with her eyes. It snaked around her waist, and he took her hand in his own.

"Would you like to dance?" he said quietly.

Sarryia nodded dumbly, caught totally off-guard. Awkwardly, she tried to remember dance steps she had learned so long ago. Legolas stepped slowly, obviously realizing she had not done this in a long time. She caught on quickly, however, and soon she matched each of his steps easily with her own.

They still said nothing, instead merely enjoying the calm sense of security and warmth felt when dancing with someone you know and trust. Sarryia smiled shyly, suddenly feeling as though she was meeting this man for the very first time. Legolas smiled back at her and danced a little faster as the faint music sped up. Sarryia kept up easily and followed his every step effortlessly.

All too early, the music ended. Sarryia took her hand out of Legolas' a bit reluctantly, mentally willing his arm to stay around her waist. She stepped back and curtsied, as was customary, and he bowed. She smiled a bit more broadly.

"Well, Legolas, that was very – "

She could not say any more. Legolas had leaned over and, soft as a butterfly's fluttering wings, placed his lips on hers. It was so light Sarryia wondered if there had been anything at all. At soon as it had begun, though, it ended. Legolas leaned back and smiled.

"Good night, lady. I hope you have a fair evening."

He bowed once more and vanished into the palace. Sarryia stood alone, dumbstruck and unsure she would be able to find her way back to the banquet. She touched her lips slowly. What had happened?

***

Legolas strode energetically down the hall, a thousand thoughts roiling in his mind. He ran a nervous hand through his hair and replayed the events in his mind. He wondered if his nervousness had shown. He wiped his palms on his tunic and tried to remember what had possessed him to ask her to dance, of all things! Still, he reasoned, it was a somewhat logical thing to do…if you were mentally ill.

Sighing in frustration, he hoped Iyarras had not noticed the initial stiffness in his dancing. Legolas allowed himself a small smile. That had soon worn off, though, when he began to really move with the music and with his partner. Never had he felt so close to someone when dancing. After all, it was generally only out of politeness that he danced with many of the ladies.

And then the kiss – he did not even want to think about it anymore. He did not know what was happening to him, but he didn't like it one bit. Still, he felt comfortable around Iyarras, and never obliged to be false or pretend to be interesting just for the sake of keeping a friendship between kingdoms. There were few people Legolas could be himself around, and Iyarras was one of them.

Legolas had reached the doors to the room in which the banquet was being held. Taking a deep breath, he straightened out his tunic and opened the heavy door. Inside, the room was bustling with activity, and snatches of conversations could be caught here and there. The center of the room was a tiled floor on which a number of couples were dancing to soft music played by musicians by one of the walls in the cavernous room. Opposite these, an immensely long table had been laid out, with countless places set for the many guests in attendance. The table formed an "L" shape, going around to the other wall.

Legolas was relieved to see that no one had noticed him enter – that meant no one had seen him leave, probably. He spotted his father and casually strolled over to make acquaintance with the people Thranduil was talking to.

"Ah!" Thranduil exclaimed, spotting Legolas. "My son has finally decided to join the festivities!"

"I do not seem to have been sorely missed by you, in any case," Legolas said wryly, a smile on his face. "And who, pray tell, are these lovely people here?"

He bowed politely to the elven woman and what he assumed to be her husband. They smiled in what seemed to be an approving way and nodded back.

"This," Thranduil said, "is Eyfella and her husband Guilorn, from the woods of Lorien. They will be staying for a little while here in the palace."

The male elf smiled winningly and extended a hand.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty. I have heard nothing but good from your father, I assure you," he said with a laugh.

Legolas forced a smile and shook his hand. He did not like these people very much. They seemed very…fake to him. He bowed again and addressed the four elves.

"Well, I must be going. Mustn't keep the guests waiting, you know."

Thranduil dismissed him with a wave of his hand and engaged into another conversation with Guilorn and his wife. Legolas rolled his eyes and strolled on the edge of the dance floor, nodding here, exchanging a word or two there, and generally being what he had always been trained to be – a perfect host. Presently, a pretty golden-haired elf approached him, extending her hand.

"Prince Legolas?" She asked in a somewhat mocking way. Legolas grinned and took her hand. She laughed. "May I have this dance, sire?"

Legolas smiled and placed his hand on her hip.

"But of course, lady! You know I could never refuse you, Jisela."

"Oh, shut up, you big liar. You're only dancing with me because you have to!"

Legolas put on a mock hurt face.

"Preposterous! You're the most beautiful one of the ball!"

"Oh," she said slyly, "now I know you're lying. I thought that title was reserved for a certain maiden over there." She threw her head to one side, indicating a person to the left of Legolas. "A person named Iyarras, maybe?"

She flashed him a bright white smile and squeezed his hand slightly. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear,

"Go dance with the prettiest maiden here, Legolas. Go one. I won't feel offended."

Legolas was surprised and extremely embarrassed, but he recovered quickly. However, he knew there would be no fooling Jisela. Instead, he simply asked her straight out what was bothering him.

"After this dance, perhaps I will. But how did you know?"

Jisela laughed musically and winked knowingly.

"Women's intuition. Don't think I did not see you leave the room, Legolas. And, lo and behold, she entered only a few minutes after you came back." She pretended to be pensive. "Hmm, now what could that be about?"

Legolas fought to retain his dignity, although he fully realized it was well beyond his reach at this point.

"It was nothing like that!" he said, blushing from ear to ear. "I just…talked to her outside and – "

He was interrupted by Jisela's laugh. Gritting his teeth, he set his jaw stubbornly and refused to say anything more. Jisela grinned roguishly at him.

"Say no more, my dear prince, say no more! In fact, you won't have to. The song is over. Run along now, go and find a partner worthy of you!"

Legolas bowed quickly, and trotted off to where she had indicated Iyarras was. He spotted her immediately. Her mysterious gray eyes were fixed on him, and she had a smile playing on her lips through the veil. The smile, Legolas thought, seemed the tiniest bit forced. He had seen an incalculable amount of fake smiles, so he knew what they looked like by now. But it could be the veil was simply confusing him. He bowed and lifted his head.

"Would mila…would you like to dance, Iyarras?"

Sarryia pretended to think, making a great show of tapping her finger on her bottom lip. Finally she gave what appeared to be a resigned sigh and threw her hands up expressively in the air.

"Well, I suppose no one can refuse the prince!"

Legolas grinned and led her to the center of the dance floor. He looped his arm around her waist once more, feeling that tingle down his spine. He let her hand rest in his and began leading her around the floor. This time, he decided, conversation was necessary.

"Are you enjoying yourself tonight?"

"Well, I just arrived not too long ago, so I haven't had much of a chance to talk or dance with anyone…and besides, to tell you the truth, I'm a bit intimidated."

"You shouldn't be. All of these people, their bark is worse than their bite. And of course there are always the people who are – wonder of wonders – normal!"

"Oh, really? Could you point some out, because most of them seem to have swallowed a pole!"

"Well, for one there's that girl I was dancing with – did you see her?"

"Yes…Yes, I did."

"Her name's Jisela and she seems a bit frigid at first, but she's just reserved. Very nice, too. Been my friend since childhood."

Legolas noticed Iyarras' face suddenly brightened up.

"Your friend since childhood? Of course! I knew there was a perfectly logical…What I mean is, she seems like a very nice girl."

Legolas looked at her oddly, and she blushed. They danced the rest of the song away quietly, excepting the occasional wisecrack whispered in each other's ears about the others dancing and their stuck-up nature. Both were obviously reluctant to leave when the dance had ended, but Legolas was soon whisked off by an eager female and Sarryia found herself someone she did not know to dance with her.

A good while later, a bell was ring, indicating the guests should find seats, as the meal was soon to be served. Legolas, of course, sat on Thranduil's right side, the latter of which had placed himself directly in the middle of one of the tables. Sitting on his left side were Eyfella and Guilorn, looking somewhat smug about something. Legolas found it rather unnerving. At the other table, diagonal from Legolas, Sarryia had found a seat between the elf she had danced with and Jisela, whom she had obviously taken a liking to. The two were talking animatedly together, laughing at some unknown jokes.

Thranduil hit his knife against his crystal glass several times. When the room had quieted down, he cleared his throat and began talking.

"Ahem. Thank you. Elves, friends from afar, I would like to begin by thanking you all for coming. Your presence graces these palace grounds like none other before them." He paused for a minute to let the elves clap their hands politely before raising his hand and calling for order. "But I have a very important announcement to make! It is my utmost pleasure and privilege to inform you all of a great even that has just recently taken place! My son – Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, has been engaged to a lovely young woman, Fiolie, daughter of Eyfella and Guilorn Silverstar!"

The announcement was greeted with roars of approvements from the normally placid elves. They clapped loudly and a few of the younger ones even cheere a bit. Legolas was stunned. He sat frozen to his seat, unable to let the facts sink into his head. Thranduil held up his hand once more.

"And now," he announced, "without further delay, we feast!"

The elves were served with delicacies from Mirkwood and began chatting animatedly among themselves. Legolas could not touch his food. He could not believe it. An arranged marriage! To a person he did not even know, nonetheless! He stole a glance to Sarryia across the room, expecting her to share in his outrage.

The seat between the handsome male elf and Jisela was empty.