Chapter 5

Thanks for the patience between chapters! I live in a cold place, so with summer upon us I've been enjoying the sun and warmth. Many thanks for the lovely feedback!

They had long ago made a nightly tradition of stories and songs before bed. Miriel would brush out his braids, singing softly. When Legolas was between his covers, she told him tales of the Valar. Stories of the First Age and the Ages of Trees. And sometimes, when he asked, she spoke to him of her own memories. Most of the times he wanted to know about events which Miri was only a barely a witness to, but occasionally, he asked for something more personal.

"How did my naneth meet my adar?"

The questions filled her with dread, yet Miri smiled and tickled the elfling's sides. "Have I not already told you this story, little leaf?"

"Please, Miri."

"Very well." And with that, she launched into recounting the day when she and Cala had met the prince of the Great Greenwood.

"You know your naneth and I grew up in the golden wood of Lothlórien. I was a ward of her family, and we were raised as sisters. One summer, we were brought to the court of King Amdir on the occasion of the solstice. Your adar was there, representing the Greenwood. I danced with your naneth all night - spinning and laughing and singing - but her eyes were on Thranduil every time I turned to her. The prince of the Greenwood was not one for dancing, however, and he sat at the high table with the other nobility."

"Why did he not dance?" Legolas piped up, his blue eyes big.

Miriel chuckled. "Do you know your adar to dance much now, little leaf? No, he has never been one for dancing, though I know he enjoys music. Well, I could tell your naneth wished to know the handsome elf prince. So I pulled her up with me to stand before Amdir and Amroth."

The elfling's brow furrowed — reminding her too much of his father when he was vexed, she realized with a pang. "Amdir?"

"Patience," she chided. "Yes, Amdir. After all, it was his feast. I stood us before the King and curtsied, complimenting his fine party and thanking him for allowing us to attend. And as I spoke, your adar began to stare at your naneth. He was clearly taken by her. How could he not be? She was the most lovely elleth, and that night she had worn a fine green dress, making her look a beautiful as a spring morn. Your naneth smiled at him and he immediately asked her to dance."

"He doesn't like dancing but he danced with naneth?"

She nodded. "He was very smitten. That means, er, taken. Interested in," she clarified when Legolas opened his mouth in question. He had another queued up, however.

"Who did you dance with?"

"Me? Oh, I think I was off finding more mead. I was probably weary from dancing."

This troubled Legolas. "Did Amroth not wish to dance with you?"

An image of the King, from his days as his father's prince, rose in her mind's eye. Had he asked for a dance? She couldn't recall. It was likely. She'd been beguiling, then. Difficult as ever, yes, but at that time no one thought of her as the hermit who'd shunned all chances of love. The hidden moon. By then she'd had his ring and had just returned another's. Amroth was still talking to her at least. Still had hope.

"I'm sure we danced at some point," Miriel dismissed. "But by the end of the week your adar asked your adadar for permission to marry your naneth. And after King Thranduil returned from battle the next summer, he wed your naneth, and she became Queen Caladhiel."

She spared mentioning Oropher's demise at Dagorlad. One day, his father could approach the subject. War and its cost wasn't a topic she was especially well-versed in.

"Did anyone ever ask you to marry them?"

She was shaken from her wandering thoughts by this last question. Miri glanced down at the elfling snuggled against her side. "I've never been married," was all she said vaguely. "Now, it's time to sleep, Little Lea-

"Ada!" Legolas cried, springing up and bouncing on his mattress.

Over the prince's head, a horrified Miriel caught sight of the king's frozen features, iron-colored eyes glittering dangerously as they narrowed in on her. But when Thranduil turned to his son his expression had softened significantly. Shifting from the threshold, he knelt beside the bed and placed one hand on the elfling's crown, smoothing Legolas's fine blonde hair.

"Apologies, ion nin. I did not mean to miss dinner or interrupt your bedtime."

"Where were you, ada?" The elfling's eyes were wide. His father very rarely came to their wing of the household. "Miri said that you were busy with Lord Morcion.

"Miri was right," Thranduil replied, gaze flickering toward her briefly. She wanted desperately to disappear. Instead, she settled for sliding off the other side of the small bed, ready to flee. The king was not having it, however. "I'm glad you are both here. Marchwarden Beleg has reported a disturbance along our southern border. Orc bands have been spotted on the move."

Miriel cursed softly. The reproachful glance Thranduil sent her did not help her already light-headed state. It was not unusual to have orcs crop up occasionally. Rarely was the threat such that would merit a late-night meeting.

"I'm going to lead a party to those borders so we might flush them out. I should not be gone more than a few weeks. But I wanted to tell you both tonight for we shall be leaving before dawn."

Oh. This wasn't a few stragglers harassing a few southern communities. Anything that required Thranduil's direct leadership was a major issue. What had happened to justify the need? She peered at the king, knowing that guessing was useless. He'd only had to leave the cavern under the mountain once before, and that had been years ago. Spiders along the Old Forest Road had been preying on travelers to a degree that trade was suffering. Thranduil himself burned the nest and killed at least half a dozen. There hadn't been a spider sighting within fifty leagues of the road in either direction since.

Legolas had sat up. "May I come?"

Thranduil shook his head. "It is too dangerous, ion nin. Even with bow skills as strong as your own, a skirmish is no place for an elfling."

The thought of her elfling amid the blood and smoke of a battlefield made Miriel feel even more ill. She knelt on the other side of the bed, mirroring Thranduil.

"I could not bear it, Little Leaf," she said softly. "You'll see conflict of every kind someday, but we need you here for now."

He visibly deflated. "But a prince must protect his people."

Thranduil, to his credit, experienced a brief flash of pride. His hand slid down to Legolas's back. "The best thing you can do for the Greenwood is staying here, where it is safe. Others will look to you while I am away. That is just as great a duty."

Legolas appeared assured by these expectations. He sat back against his pillows, listening intently as his father went on.

"Lord Morcion is to act in my stead while I am away. Legolas, it would benefit our people to see you. You and Miriel will join Morcion and Sandis for evening meals in the great hall, at the head table. I expect that you will represent our family well."

The prince nodded solemnly. Hopefully the prospect of seeing his classmate Sandis would be encouraging. Dimly, Miri recalled that the last time his adar had left the mountain halls, the prince had been too young to be much aware of the dangers that lay await in the wide world. She prayed he would not fret for Thranduil's life. She'd undoubtedly do enough of that for both of them.

Before the king rose to go, Legolas surprised them both by flinging himself in his father's arms for a tight embrace. Thranduil caught him, returning the gesture.

"I'll miss you, ada," came muffled from where Legolas's face was pressed into the heavy velvet of the king's robes.

"And I you, ion nin."

It took close to a half hour to coax Legolas to lay back down and at least try to sleep. Miriel rubbed his back and sang softly once they turned the lights out, something she used to do every night when he was an infant. The gemstones embedded in the dark blue ceiling winked at her in the darkness as she stared up, her mind only half on the prince. When she finally left his room, his breathing was deep and steady.

The autumn air was crisp, even in the caverns. It grew even more so as she ascended to one of the few outlets that gave a clear view of the night sky. The quartz on Legolas's ceiling was a pale facsimile of what was above her now. Stars shown down, the silver light offering something like comfort.

Miri took long measured breaths, her exhales coming out as a stream of mist. The cold had only just touched the Greenwood and it was still enough of a novelty that she didn't mind wrapping her shawl a little tighter.

There was no doubt he'd heard her. The dangerous glint in his gaze was enough to confirm that. Miriel didn't know if it was a blessing he was too busy to confront her about the stories she told his son. He was likely preparing for his ride out in the morning. She was small potatoes to what lay in the southern wood.

Still. If the conflict was an easy one — and Valar, she prayed it was for all their sakes — Thranduil would soon return ready to flay her. Perhaps he'd even been more vicious, battle still singing in his veins. A longer siege might result in him forgetting her words, but she'd truly rather face her punishment if it meant Legolas need not worry over his adar's long absence.

After over an hour of watching the stars move slowly across the sky, the cold succeeded in banishing Miriel back indoors. She took a meandering path, seeing no one until she murmured a brief hello to the guards that stood before the blue doors designating the royal wing. A crack of light could be seen beneath Thranduil's door at the other end of the corridor. Miri made a point to walk on light feet and close her own door with a light hand.

The room was dark, a single lamp on her mantle dimly lit. Her shawl was draped on her vanity's chair and she'd just slipped out of her shoes when a voice broke the silence.

"If I didn't know better, I would have assumed you were hiding from me."

Miri had her dagger unsheathed before the first syllable had faded. And by the end of the statement, she realized it was the king himself, sitting on the edge of her bed. She lowered the blade, nostrils flaring.

"What are you doing?" she snapped, all honorifics forgotten, replacing her dagger in the sheath she kept tucked in her waistband.

Thranduil was unruffled. "Do you always carry weapons in my house?"

"I'm your son's caregiver, I would be a fool not to arm myself."

This answer went unquestioned. He stood fluidly, moving toward her with an energy that was deeply forbidding. Like a wolf who was confident his prey was cornered. Miri half-wished she hadn't returned and simply slept in the library.

"Do you make a habit of breaking into your subject's private spaces uninvited?" she shot as he neared.

"It's my home," he reminded her. "I did not want to have this discussion here, however, you were not to be found. I assumed you had to return eventually."

She decided not to give him the pleasure of intimidating her. Turning on her heels, Miri returned to her vanity and sat, beginning to unbraid her hair. She kept her eyes firmly on her own image in the mirror.

"I was not about to neglect this discussion any longer than necessary," he continued. "I heard the tale you told Legolas. I'll not have you spin lies and fill his head with a misremembered past."

"I said nothing that was untrue," she protested. Her silver brush was a suitable distraction. Dragging the boar bristles through her long locks, Miriel attempted to maintain a charade of calm.

"I heard enough to know that you distorted the truth."

This accusation was enough to cause her to look up abruptly, eyes meeting his in the mirror.

"I simply didn't tell him every single miserable detail." Miri's eyes were unusually dark reflected back at him in the glass. He sensed this would not be a disagreement resolved with a brief discussion.

"You failed to tell him the all of the relevant details."

"You know what they call me?" she hissed, eyes dark. "Avarethil. Because I declined to marry either of two kings that thrust before me."

He had certainly heard the epessë in passing, murmured in the dining hall and down the corridors. Thranduil never held much stock in the rumor that Miriel had also been offered to Amroth. Surely if it were true, Cala would have known. His wife had never spoken of such things. And Miriel hardly seemed Amroth's type of elleth. Perhaps he'd have been better off listening to the whispers.

"Is it true?"

She stalked to the other side of the room. Throwing open the wardrobe, she reached deep within its depths before emerging with a small rosewood box. The surface was ashy, the wood in need of a polish. Miriel flipped open the lid un ceremoniously and withdrew a heavy golden signet ring. She tossed it to Thranduil, who caught it effortlessly. Turning the ring in his hands, he found a familiar sigil set into the flat surface on the front. A golden blossom of Lothlórien. It was much too large to fit her own fingers.

"From Amroth's own hand," she stated flatly. "My father invited him to our halls. It was a rare summer when I was home in the Havens. Though I had spent much time in Lórien, we'd never met before then. He was quite taken with me. My father encouraged it. But though Amroth gave me his ring, I didn't seek him out when I returned to Lórien in the autumn. He assumed I was taking my time."

"Why did you not?"

Miriel clasped her hands together tightly, head turned towards the far wall, gaze far away. "He's a good ellon. A great one, even. But despite my upbringing, I never saw myself as a leader of Eldar. That's not the life I wanted. Merely the one choosen for me."

Brow furrowed, Thranduil continued to absent-mindedly turn the ring in his hands. While not entirely surprising that Miriel would admit she had no desire to rule, it was still somewhat surreal. They were duty-bound people, their responsibility to family and community deeply ingrained into their culture. Idhragorneth had sent Miriel to Lórien for her education so that she might be a fitting mate to an ellon who guided the Eldar. He remember his wife saying Miri had resented the expectation. Cala had understood when others scoffed. But he could not. The idea she would so readily reject the path laid before her was truly unsettling.

"I told him I'd never married," Miri said, walking back to the mirror. "That wasn't a lie. Forgive me if I'd rather he not know that I was cast out from every home I'd ever known for failing to find a mate."

"You said more than this. You told Legolas that I sought his mother," he argued. "But that's not what happened. Did you twist your memories of the past to grant an elfling romantic dreams?

"What difference does it make?" she snapped. Once more, her back was to him, arms coming around to hug herself tightly. This time he couldn't discern her face in the glass, her hair fell around her profile as a veil. "It's not untrue — once you saw Cala you were taken by her."

He stopped turning the ring, crossing the room until he stood just a breath away from the elleth.

"But I saw you first, Miri."

Her arms were shaking. She refused to turn. There was no doubt she felt him looming behind her, his warmth and emotion radiating. The memory of their first encounter clung to her like the scent of smoke on silk after a fire had been long doused. He could still picture her face cast in blue light by the moon, her hands fitting perfect in his, the faint hum of music coming from the treetops in the distance. Had she wished that it had been Cala in the gardens that evening and not her? Dreamt the ellon who'd come upon her had been anyone else? Anyone but him?

"Why not tell him the truth of the matter?"

She sighed, rubbing her brow. "Why sully the memory of his mother?"

"It would change nothing."

"You cannot know that. How would Legolas feel to know that his adar and nánig once had…feelings for one another? Regardless, it's a history we both pretend didn't occur. There is no cause to dreg it up. Some things best stay forgotten"

Thranduil's already tenuous control broke. Without warning, Miri was spun to face a furious Elfking, her wrists locked by his large hands. Rage stormed in his chest, emotions he had carefully locked away breaking free. "I pretend nothing!"

"Then you ought to," she snapped. "You act well enough."

"Is that why you've been sullen all these years? Why you have been a thorn in my side? You resent how things ended?"

"No!" She pushed herself away from him, wrenching her from his grasp with such force she hit the edge of the vanity. A jar was jolted off the small table, falling with a crash. Her brush clattered to the floor. It was all ignored. Thranduil stared, chest heaving

"Whatever happened between us, you made Cala happy. She loved you, and you loved her, of that there is no doubt." Miri's breathing was also heavy. She pressed one hand to her throat, as if to try to calm her pounding heart. "I would wish nothing changed. I resent nothing besides your ill behavior. 'Tis you who are the sullen one. You who resent me."

"That's not true, " he insisted. "If you would not have me as your partner I had hoped we could be friends. Yet you made it clear hated me, rejected every overture of friendship. Nothing would please. I didn't know how to bring back the elleth I'd known. It was Cala's dearest wish that we might be friends. She hated to see us at odds."

"The elleth you knew barely existed," she spat. "A few hours tucked away in the woods is hardly enough to call me an 'elleth you knew.' And while it might have been Cala's wish, it clearly was not yours. You've treated me as the scourge of Arda since the day I refused you. You never wanted me here —"

"You have no notion of what I want," he fumed, drawing near again, cutting her off.

Miriel turned her face up to him. She was vibrating with anger, eyes darker than ever. "I don't care what you want, your majesty. I believe I told you that quite succinctly decades ago."

Tonight was not a banner evening for his self-control. For the second time in the span of less than five minutes, Thranduil acted without thinking. He reached again for the furious elleth and crushed his mouth against hers.

We stan an argument that ends in a kiss!

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