Chapter Three:

2019 Third Age, Ethuil (Spring). Lasgalen: Greenwood the Great.

"You are too quiet tithen anna. What is troubling you?"

"Nothing Híril nín." Anaríel replied automatically, refusing to meet the Queen's shrewd gaze.

"Hmmm, I see. Your foster brother has not been playing pranks on you has he?"

"No Híril Naneth nín."

"And you are quite sure you wish to use that blossom in your arrangement?"

"Yes, why ever not?"

"Well my dear, it has no petals left—you have plucked them all off."

Anaríel started, glancing at the abused flower in her hands.

"What is it pen neth?" Líawen reached out, laying a hand on the distracted elleth's wrist. "You are a million miles away. Surely, you can tell me what is troubling you; and while you talk, I will help you finish this centerpiece for tonight's festivities. It is not every day we have such honoured guests from Imladris."

Anaríel stiffened, sliding her hand from beneath the Queen's. "How long before Lord Elrond and his family arrive Híril nín?"

"So that is it. You are not pleased to meet the Lord and Lady of Imladris and their family; why not? Their children are roughly of an age to you and Legolas. I should think you would be excited to meet hín from another realm."

Anaríel hissed as she pricked her thumb on a thorn. "They are Noldo and not even full Elven." She growled around the thumb in her mouth."

The Queen drew herself up and gazed sternly at her ward. "For shame Híril neth, who has described Lord Elrond and his family such?"

Anaríel shrugged still sucking her abused digit.

"It was not Legolas was it?"

"Oh no Híril nín—he has been counting the days until the arrival of the sons of Elrond. It has been nothing but the twins this, the twins that."

"Then who," Líawen persisted. Anaríel set her mouth in a mutinous line.

"Very well, I shall press no further. I just have this to say on the matter. The world is wide and stretches far beyond the trees of this forest. Beyond Lasgalen's borders lie many other realms peopled by folk other than the Sindarin and Silvan you have grown up among; Noldor of Imladris, Galadhrim of Lórien; not to mention Men and even Naugrim. All have their place in the song of Illúvatar. No one race or kindred, is superior to another—especially among the Elves. Do we Sindar believe we are better than the native Silvan of this forest?"

Anaríel shook her head no.

"Nor are the Noldor superior to the Sindar."

"But Hír Adar nín says--." Anaríel clapped a hand to her mouth in horror.

"What does Aran Thranduil say?" The Queen replied, eyes narrowing. "Never mind child. Despite what your Hír Ada may say, Lord Elrond and his family possess neither horns nor barbed tails; nor do they resemble orcs. Lord Elrond and his children bear within them the blood of not only Elves, but of Maia and Men. Of all beings upon Arda, I cannot think of any so blessed and you will honour them with all due respect. Not too mention the fact that Lady Celebrían is of Lórien—my homeland—and yours as well Híril neth."

"My home is Lasgalen." replied Anaríel.

"Yes child, but you were born in Lórien."

"Lasgalen is my home." The elleth repeated stubbornly. "May I retire now Híril nín? The centerpiece is finished and I need to change my gown before the guests arrive."

Líawen frowned but nodded. "Very well, go and get cleaned up. Should you see Legolas along the way tell him to do so as well; I expect our guests to arrive any time now."

Anaríel bobbed a curtsey and ducked through the door as if the hounds of Angmar were on her heels. Líawen sighed and busied herself putting finishing touches on the centerpiece.

"What in Eru's name has gotten into Lalaith? She's flying down the halls as if a dragon were after her?"

"YOU!" Líawen exploded, whirling around. Thranduil leaned negligently against the door to the Queen's workroom, bewilderment stamped upon his strong-boned face.

"Yes me—er, me what?"

"You—you!" The Queen sputtered, sparks flying. If ever the King of Lasgalen's temper was legendary, then the Queen's was a very well kept secret. "What—manure, have you been filling Anaríel's head with concerning our imminent guests from Imladris?"

"Manure? What are you talking abou--?"

Líawen threw a handful of truncated stems, narrowly missing Thranduil's leonine head.

"Lía, calm yourself!" The King cried ducking out of firing range.

"Do not tell me to calm myself! I do not know what you have been filling the children's heads with regarding Elrond and his lineage but it will stop now. If Anaríel believes—and it would be no wonder then if Legolas believes as well that we are about to play host to a family of orcs and their entourage. If this is so then you better prepare yourself for a pitched battle."

Thranduil advanced upon his fuming wife as if approaching a cornered boar. "I am not entirely sure what you are talking about meleth nín, but I assure you I have said nothing untoward—especially to the children—regarding Elrond and his brethren."

"Oh really?" Líawen quickly repeated her conversation with Anaríel. Thranduil ducked his head sheepishly.

"Ah, I see. Well, I may have gone off on a bit of a tangent regarding the Noldor and certain—history—between Elrond and I when telling them of the Battle of Dagorlad."

Líawen threw her hands up in exasperation. "How could you bring up the Dagorlad—oh never mind? Listen to me meleth nín and harken well. Whatever your opinions are of the Noldor you will henceforth keep them to yourself. The children are at a very impressionable age—as you can see—and I will not have them taking the bigotries of Thranduil Oropherion to heart not too mention for their own, especially our son—your heir. All this time I have striven to teach Legolas and Anaríel of the qualities amongst our separate kindred that make us unique all the while you've been undermining me and painting the Noldor as little better than minions of the Shadow."

"Well—they…"

"No, they are not—not every Noldo is a Kin-Slayer! Listen Thranduil, I know what you went through when Menegroth fell. I know how it scarred your heart to have to defend kith and kin from your own fellow kind—I too was born in Elu's halls though I was too young to remember the devastation, nonetheless, there is a difference between passing on the history of our people versus instilling bias and bigotry. Am I clear?"

Thranduil crossed the small room and took his wife's hands—after carefully relieving them of the gardening shears and placing them at a safe distance on the workbench.

"Clear as a bell, Bereth nín."

Líawen cocked her head back the better to meet her husband's gaze. "So, we stand united on this front?"

"Aye, united. Now come away meleth nín. I believe—if we are swift—we should have just enough time to bathe and change before our honoured guests arrive."

Líawen half-heartedly fought the encircling arm pulling her gently, yet determinedly against her husband's chest. "Your plan is fraught with disaster you know." She replied, toying with the long braid hanging behind Thranduil's ear."

"Did I not say the key is—if we are swift?"

tithin anna:little gift

Híril nín: my Lady

Híril Naneth nín: my Lady Mother

elleth: female elf

pen neth: young one

hín: children

Híril neth: young Lady

Hír Adar nín: My Lord Father

Aran: king

meleth nín: my love

Bereth nín: my Queen