Helooooooo. Sorry it's been so long, but I've been super busy :( Anyway, here's this chapter, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinally.

"King Gil-Galad..." Sword met sword with a clang. "King Gil-Galad, we are greatly honored to have you here." Clang. "I hope that we can come to a—" Clang. "—mutually agreeable solution, and that we can part on—" Clang. "—better terms than before, because an alliance—" Clang. "—would greatly benefit—" Clang. "—both our kingdoms. How is that?"

"It might help if you were not—" Clang. "—swinging a sword at me."

Clang. "I am trying to—" Clang. "—calm myself."

"I see." Clang.

"Are you—" Clang. "—laughing at me, Taensirion?"

"No."

Clang. "Oh, really?"

"Laughing right now would be—Ouch."

"Foolish?" Oropher asked, finishing Taensirion off with a kick that swept his legs out from under him.

"I was going to say, 'A quick way to lose,' but yes." Taensirion grunted as Oropher placed his boot—along with some of the weight behind it—on the fallen elf's chest. "Does this make you feel better?"

Oropher smirked. "Yes, yes it does."

"I am glad," Taensirion said dryly as Oropher got off him and helped him up. "That seems to be my job these days."

The king snorted and corrected, "No, your job is holding my kingdom together."

"Oh, come now, you manage perfectly well when I am not here. A few decades ago, for instance."

Oropher sighed and turned toward his house, slipping the padding off his swords. "You were only in bed for a few days, and you were still there. If you want a good example, what about when you go running off to another kingdom for a month?"

"Are you describing the times when you send me to speak to your fellow kings?"

"It is a necessary sacrifice. I am no diplomat."

Taensirion tried not to smirk. "At least you have managed not to be murdered by dwarves yet."

"Yet," Oropher emphasized.

Taensirion decided to ignore that. "And nor have you been killed by any Noldor."

Oropher raised an eyebrow.

"...yet," Taensirion added reluctantly.

"Perhaps I should bring my sword." Oropher waited.

Taensirion knew the king was joking... but then again, it was Oropher. "You are not actually—"

"No."

"Good." He paused. "Just checking."

Oropher smirked, but only for a moment. He was meeting with the Noldor king today, and he did not like Noldor. Not at all. Of course, it was hard to like any group who killed your king and scattered your people, and that is what the Noldor had done to the Sindar of Doriath—ripped the heart out of their kingdom and then left them to the orcs and their foul allies. Those few Sindar who tried to stay and hold their home together lasted only a few years before gathering what was left of their families and setting off in the hope of building a new life; most died in the wilderness or in dark caves. Those who had fled immediately after the attack from the Noldor—the Second Kinslaying—soon faced another.

Oropher could imagine what Taensirion would say if he voiced that thought right now. It was the Fëanorians who did that, not the elf you are going to speak to today. He helped our kin later, in fact. Many of them now live and fight under his banner.

True enough. Apparently what was left of both peoples got along well enough over in the west, somehow. But even so, there were some things one simply could not forget... like how one's wife might still be alive if the Noldor had not attacked. Like how if more than a tiny fraction of Doriath's population had been left, the orcs would never have reached her.

No, Oropher did not much like Noldor.

. . . . . .

"Greetings, King Oropher. It is good to see you again."

Oropher suspected Gil-Galad was lying—no sane elf should be happy to see someone who had given them as many headaches as the Sindarin king was sure he had given the Noldor over the years—but he nodded and even returned a smaller version of his visitor's polite bow. "Welcome to Greenwood, King Gil-Galad. I do not yet know what you have come to discuss, but—" He tried to remember what he had rehearsed with Taensirion. "—I hope that we can come to a mutually agreeable solution, and that we can part on better terms than when last we met, because an alliance would greatly benefit both our kingdoms." There. He had politely greeted his rival. He sat back and tilted his head to show off his elegant crown.

"It is interesting that you say that," Gil-Galad said, "because an alliance is, in fact, what I have come to discuss."

Oropher leaned forward on his throne despite himself; he was aware that Gil-Galad knew more about recent events than he did, and if he thought an alliance might be necessary... "Do tell."

"The rumors you have heard are true," Gil-Galad said softly. "Númenor has fallen. It was destroyed by Eru himself, it is said."

On Oropher's right side, Thranduil gasped softly.

"Kingdoms have fallen before," Oropher said, but far from confidently.

The Noldor shook his head and said firmly, "War is coming."

"We already knew events were heading in that direction," Taensirion reminded Oropher, stepping closer to the king's throne.

Oropher nodded thoughtfully, then raised his eyebrow at Gil-Galad, asking what his fellow king expected from him. After all, why would the king of the western elves himself travel across Middle-Earth (or what was left of it) to tell the Greenwood elves something they would hear soon enough, anyway?

Gil-Galad hesitated, then said, "You remember the last time, of course."

"When your kin attacked mine? Yes, I believe I do."

Taensirion winced, and Thranduil grimaced; he shared his father's grudge against the Noldor, but did not think he would have made that comment.

Gil-Galad tensed. "I was referring to Morgoth," he growled through his teeth. Why did he always decide to visit Greenwood in person, again?

"Oh, my mistake," Oropher said sarcastically, while mentally kicking himself for saying that. "Carry on, then."

Gil-Galad took a deep breath, then another. He has a right to be angry, he reminded himself, as he often had in similar situations with those Sindar who had become part of his people. None of them happened to be Oropher, however. "I think we can both agree that we do not want the Valar to have to interfere again. Therefore..." he tried to think of a way to phrase his request without setting Oropher off again. "...it would make me sleep better to know that, should the worst happen, Greenwood will join us in the fight."

"Join you?" Oropher repeated, as though his rival king must have misspoken.

Thranduil and Taensirion made eye contact, silently wondering if it was too late to take charge. They both knew the procedure: Taensirion would suggest a break and talk to Oropher outside, while Thranduil would try to quickly make a deal with the visitor in case his father did not agree to stay out of it. It seemed a little too late this time, though.

Gil-Galad was grinding his teeth. "Simply because we have more experience with the threat—"

"I would rather die than follow a Noldor into battle." Oropher's voice was ice-cold.

"My lord, perhaps—"

"Not now, Taensirion."

The advisor shrugged helplessly at Thranduil.

The prince sighed and stepped forward. "Father," he began, "you have told me many times to treat the Silvan elves the same as the Sindar, and to expect the same things from them. Why should the Noldor be any different?"

"Do not judge these elves by the deeds of their kin," Taensirion agreed. "And remember that this alliance would be for the good of your people, not any of us."

Thranduil nodded firmly. "We must win this war quickly and decisively for their sake, and for the sake of the kingdom. Cooperation seems to be the only way to do that."

"This is about more than just us," Taensirion reminded the king.

At least, Oropher thought wryly, these two ought to be able to hold his kingdom together if he was killed someday. And they had a point—one he had already known, or course, but it seemed he had needed a reminder. "I will think on it," he told Gil-Galad. "Now please remove yourself from my presence."

The Noldor king dipped another bow and escaped with great relief.

. . . . . .

"If you expect me to follow a Noldor into this war—"

"Oropher."

"Yes, yes, I KNOW he is 'not like his kin', thank you for pointing that out again..."

Taensirion sighed and leaned back against a tree, knowing they might be there a while.

"What?"

"Perhaps you should take a few hours to relax and then come back to the issue?" Taensirion suggested calmly.

Oropher stopped pacing and turned to his friend. "Let me guess, I am being irrational?"

"Or maybe a few days would be better," the advisor mused, offering only a small smirk to answer the king's question.

Oropher blew out sharply. "Perhaps you are right," he admitted. "Very well, what should I attend to while I calm down?"

"What about the feast tonight?"

The king raised an eyebrow. "I thought your wife and Aleinia were taking care of that?"

"And Kilvara," Taensirion added. "But still, surely you could find something to do. You could make this one special somehow."

"Or," said Oropher, who had just thought of something and was now even more irritated than before, "I could try to keep my dear daughter-in-law away from our visitor."

Taensirion cocked his head. "And why is that?"

"Do you remember who decided to show up at my son's wedding? And why?"

Taensirion only had to think for a moment, because how many times had he heard about this over the years? "Gil—The Noldor king and Eithryn are friends. Of course." He saw how Oropher was grinding his teeth and winced. "Surely she cannot get him into too much trouble. After all, he has consistently tried to stay on your good side..."

Oropher groaned; as if he had needed any more reason for a headache. "Should I go, or send you? Or simply forget about it and hope Thranduil can keep them under control?"

"Given the nature of your daughter-in-law, I think the latter might be the most effective." Taensirion did a good job of hiding his smile; he was rather fond of Eithryn.

"Because...?"

"She will not take it as a challenge," the advisor explained. "And she will be more likely to listen to your son."

"I thought she liked you."

Taensirion shrugged. "Yes, but that only means she generally does not do anything too nasty to me."

"True." Oropher grimaced. "Why did Thranduil marry her?"

Taensirion patted his shoulder.

"Excuse me," a voice called from behind them, and they turned to see Galion walking down the path toward them. "Have you seen Felrion or Kilvara?"

The two Sindar looked at each other and shrugged. "Kilvara should be guarding the visitors," Oropher said.

"Thanks." The butler started to go past them (after quickly bowing to Oropher), but then turned back. "Wait—Lord Taensirion, you're married, right?" He already knew the answer—Sky's excitement over Taensirion's children years before was not something Galion could have missed.

The advisor tilted his head curiously. "Indeed. Why do you ask?"

"Well, um..." Galion blushed. "How do I tell a she-elf I like her?"

"Learn from Taensirion's mistakes," Oropher replied at the same time as the advisor said, "Just do not do what Oropher did."

Oropher spun on his friend. "Excuse me!"

Taensirion raised an eyebrow. "At least I only embarrassed myself."

"You would never have done anything if not for us."

"Better than annoying her to death."

Galion's head was swiveling back and forth as he tried to follow the argument.

"He was too shy to speak up," Oropher explained for the Silvan elf.

"And he got slapped a thousand times," Taensirion added. "...But, yes, as my wife will gladly tell you, I may have waited a bit too long."

Oropher smirked.

"Anyway," Taensirion said, "in answer to your question, I would suggest asking my wife if you would like guidance. Just be aware that she will most likely attempt to help you through every step of the process until you are married."

Galion did not seem quite sure about that topic.

"Or we could help," Oropher suggested with an evil grin.

"Oropher, no," Taensirion protested. "Do not do that to poor Galion."

"Do what?" Galion could not help but ask.

"Tell her himself," the advisor said. "It is what he did to me."

Galion perked up. "You would do that?"

The Sindar both blinked at him. "He actually wants me to do it," Oropher remarked to his friend. He was not sure it would be any fun that way.

"Galion, I think it would be best if you told her yourself," Taensirion told the butler. "Trust me."

Well, Taensirion disapproved, so Oropher had to do it. "No, trust me. Remember, I am the reason he is married."

"I would have told her eventually!" Taensirion protested.

"Perhaps she would have told you," the king corrected. "Anyway, Galion, I would be glad to help."

Galion, however, turned to Taensirion. "You really think I need to tell her?"

"Unless you would like to be teased about it for the rest of your life," the gray-eyed Sindar said dryly. "And it would be more meaningful that way."

Galion started to pace in the exact same spot where Oropher had done so a few moments before. "But how do I do it?"

"Just tell her," Oropher said. He had never understood how it could be that hard.

"You could ask her if she would like to go on a walk with you," Taensirion suggested. "If she says yes, it likely means she is interested as well. You may not even have to tell her directly, in fact."

"Or you could kiss her," said Oropher, who was trying to remember if he had ever done anything subtle in his pursuit of his future wife.

The other two stared at him like he was insane.

"You said I should talk to Lanthirel?" Galion asked Taensirion.

He nodded. "She is helping to set up for the feast."

"Thanks." Galion took a deep breath. "I really like her, you know? I don't want to mess this up." He bounced on his heels nervously.

"I would be surprised if she did not like you, as well," Taensirion told him. "And it could be she already knows you are interested."

Galion chuckled weakly. "She's not usually that subtle... but maybe." He did look more hopeful as he bowed to both of them. "Thank you for your help, my lords."

"There is no need for that," Taensirion said, embarrassed. He did not like that formality in settings such as this.

"Not for you," Oropher corrected. The king smirked at his son's butler. "Good luck. May you fare better than Taensirion did."

The advisor rolled his eyes. "You are welcome, Galion."

Galion smiled, bowed again, and left.

"He never told us her name," Oropher realized after the Silvan elf was well out of sight. He could not inform her that she had an admirer if he did not know who she was.

Taensirion shook his head at his friend's obvious plan. "Let the boy do it himself, Oropher."

The king sighed. It looked like he might have to.

. . . . . .

Oropher did his best to distract himself from the probability of disaster, but it was not long before he had to send Taensirion to check on the Noldor king—it was best if he avoided that job himself. He started toward where Lanthirel and the others were setting up for the feast that night, but then changed his mind and headed for his house to see if there was any paperwork there that needed doing, though he would have to avoid anything related to the Noldor's kingdom.

"Curse Finwë and all his children," he muttered to himself. If not for that line—one Gil-Galad was part of—he might still be living in Doriath. He would not be king of Greenwood, of course, but he would gladly make that sacrifice.

Oropher pushed that thought away. Even without the Fëanorians, there would still have been Morgoth to deal with; who knew where they would be now? It was best not to dwell on such things, as much as he liked to imagine what could have been. Those possibilities were gone now.

He deliberately kept his mind on other topics for the rest of the short walk. There was the ever-present problem of the orc raids, of course, though they had those mostly under control now. Then there was the feast, and he amused himself for a little while by wondering if he could get Taensirion drunk, something that took a considerable amount of cunning these days, but which was always well worth the effort. And then there was Coryn, whose promise as a leader was beginning to be realized; Oropher was discovering, to his great surprise, that he got along quite well with Eithryn's brother once he got past the lack of respect.

Oropher was chuckling to himself as he ascended the steps to his (relatively) grand home, remembering Coryn's recent offer to spy on his sister and her husband. The king had already learned a few interesting pieces of information regarding his daughter-in-law's plots, though he now owed Coryn a few favors and suspected he would never get the Silvan elf completely on his side. Still, it was intriguing to imagine where that unexpected partnership could go.

The two Silvan butlers on duty at the moment hopped up from the table where they had been playing a game—chess, Oropher realized, which Thranduil had taught him after learning it in Lorien, and which he himself had subsequently taught to these two one day when he was bored. One of them was actually good enough to challenge him.

"What can we do for you, my lord?" asked the shorter of the two, the best chess player as well as the elf who had trained Galion years ago.

"I shall let you know if I think of anything," he informed them. "In the meantime, if Taensirion comes along, do let him in."

Both butlers bowed.

Oropher went into the small office next to his bedroom and shuffled through papers for a few moments before finding something to work on—a letter from King Amdir of Lorien that he had read the day before but not gotten around to answering yet. He sat down at his desk, placing his crown to the side—it fit perfectly, but still got uncomfortable after a while—then took a piece of parchment from the neat stack, dipped his quill into the bottle of ink, and began to write.

Ah, yes, Amdir was having trouble with those pesky orc bands, as well. Even more than Greenwood was, in fact, even though Lorien was no closer to Sauron's stronghold in Mordor than the southern part of Oropher's realm. Oropher suspected they were actually getting most of them from the Misty Mountains, but there seemed to be more of those around lately, as well.

At least we are strong this time, he wrote to his friend; Amdir, like him, was from Doriath, though the two did not truly meet until that kingdom began to collapse. And not alone. Indeed, King Gil-Galad is in Greenwood as I write to request an alliance. He would have been wiser to go to you first, I think, but I plan to accept his proposal. Taensirion would not let him get away with anything else. He considered that for a moment, then snorted and wrote it down; Amdir knew the advisor well enough to be amused. But even aside from that, I see no way around an alliance with the western kingdom, and though it rather pains me to write it, I would advise you to choose the same course. Indeed, as my unwelcome visitor points out, the intervention of the Valar was... not ideal, and, I would add, almost certainly a one-time occurrence. Best to end this quickly.

He read the letter over once, then nodded to himself and folded it; he would assign it to a messenger later. He glanced out the window, but could not see Taensirion coming through the thick trees. That was not a good sign.

Oropher propped his chin on his hand and leafed halfheartedly through the surprisingly short stack of documents he had to work on. He supposed he ought to start on something, but he had no idea when Taensirion was going to return, and he could not actually find anything that needed to be completed within the next month. He doubted he had time to start a game of chess with one of his servants, either, and they would still be in the middle of their current game, anyway.

He hated these in-between moments more than any other part of his life for the same reason his paperwork never piled more than a few inches high. Such a thing would probably shock his commanding officers from his youth in Doriath, who had once been forced to come up with all sorts of threats to get him to write reports, but Oropher rarely had a few minutes to just sit and think anymore. He made sure of it, in fact, because it was at moments like this that his mind started to drift back in time, as it was doing now, to something that hurt so very much to think about.

. . . . . .

"You cannot be serious." The tawny-haired elf raised her delicate eyebrow at Oropher, making her exclamation into more of a scolding.

He frowned, which would have been more intimidating if they had not both been lying on their backs in the grass. "You do not agree with my logic?"

"Your logic? Funny, you must have forgotten to present it," came the immediate response, and Oropher tried not to smirk. "All I heard is that you wish to walk into a forest full of half-wild elves and declare yourself king. Was there some reasoning in there I missed?"

"You are leaving out a step. I would walk into the forest of half-wild elves, earn their trust, and then declare myself king."

"Oh, of course. That is far more clever."

"The sarcasm in your tone could melt a dragon's hide, my dear."

"And what does that imply about your skull?"

Oropher only laughed. She was the only one who could get away with saying such a thing to him, but he loved her quick comebacks. "Ah, Aradael, what would I do without you to point out that all my ideas are doomed to failure?"

Now it was her turn to smirk. "Hmm, what was it you used to do when you were younger? I cannot seem to remember..."

"If you think I would attempt to vandalize the king's home again, I am offended at your opinion of my maturity."

Aradael just shrugged and changed the conversation back to his previous topic. "But you cannot be serious about going to Greenwood."

"And why not?"

She blinked. "You think it is wise to travel across the continent to attempt to make a kingdom out of elves who cannot possibly wish to be subjected to the rule of someone they have never heard of?"

"Yes."

She gave him the look that was often followed by a rhetorical question such as "What am I supposed to do with you?" or "Why do I even try?".

He smirked. "But do you not agree that it would be worth the trouble if we succeeded?"

"I do not think you want to be a king. It would take up quite a lot of time."

"Perhaps."

"Being a queen does not sound so pleasant, either. I would have to... what? Kiss babies?"

"Or you could magically protect the realm as our queen does."

"I am Sindar, not Maiar."

He rolled over to kiss her. "Are you certain? I have never seen a Sindar so beautiful."

Aradael decided not to dignify that comment with a response. "I admit I can see where you might find some enjoyment in ordering elves around, but I do not think I would be much of a monarch."

"You underestimate yourself, love."

She closed her eyes against the sun and half-smiled. "I have a realistic view of myself, unlike someone."

"Are you referring to my view of myself, or of you?" Oropher wondered as he lay back down.

"Both, I suppose."

He took her hand and started to play with it. "I suppose I may see myself a bit unrealistically."

She snorted.

"Are you laughing at me?" One might almost think his flattery was not working.

She opened one eye halfway. "Oropher, my love, why is it that you only admit your own failures while complimenting me?"

"Who ever said I had failures? I was simply admitting that I may not be quite as extraordinary as I believe I am. But to answer your question, it is because I am not worthy of you, of course."

"So if everyone else is so inferior to you..."

He smirked.

Aradael shook her head at his predictability and tossed a handful of grass at him.

"How dare you," he complained before throwing it back.

"Oh dear, have I offended the future king?"

"Off with her head," he teased sleepily.

She laughed.

A few minutes passed in pleasant silence before Aradael spoke again. "You would make Thranduil a prince?" she asked without looking over at Oropher.

"I think it would suit him. Do you disagree?"

"Well... all right, I can see it," she admitted. "But it seems rather cruel to do that to him."

Oropher did not think being royalty could possibly be quite that terrible, but he let it go. "It sounds as though you have accepted that this future may be a possibility."

"It was hypothetical, Oropher," she groaned, making him chuckle.

. . . . . .

The king leaned forward to rest his head in his hands. "You would have loved it here," he murmured.

Taensirion's soft voice pulled him out of his memories. "Is everything all right?"

Oropher sighed, but did not move.

His advisor walked around the desk to lean against the wall behind the king, where he waited without speaking.

"Do you think I was right to make Thranduil my heir?" Oropher asked him quietly.

Taensirion thought about that for a moment. "I think he would make a fine king, if that is what you are asking."

"Because...?"

"He has your strengths, though he may not know it, and he is not so hot-headed. He would be more patient and cautious than you are—perhaps too cautious at times, but that seems better than the alternative."

"Agreed." Oropher was looking out the window now, tapping his fingers together as he thought. "But was it right for him?"

That one took longer. "Has he said something to you?" Taensirion asked finally.

"He has not... And I suppose that should answer part of my question, knowing my son." Thranduil was maybe a bit too good at telling Oropher when something was not to his liking. "But will he still be content when he is king?"

Taensirion did not comment on the phrasing of that question, though Oropher knew he wanted to. "What do you mean?"

"If he likes his life as it is now, how will he feel when the weight of an entire kingdom rests on his shoulders?"

Taensirion offered no answer, but Oropher was not looking for one. The king rubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply. He knew Thranduil would be able to handle the pressures of kingship, but what would it do to him to be responsible for so many lives, or, as was likely, to have his first act as king be to throw away some of those lives? Thranduil was hardly weak, but Oropher suspected such things would be harder for his son than they were for him.

But yes, he could certainly see Thranduil as king. Though... "Oh no," he moaned, and then he started to laugh.

"I may be wrong," Taensirion said, "but are you by any chance imagining Eithryn as queen again?"

"Just imagine her wearing a crown!" Oropher gasped through his mirth.

Taensirion snorted and put his hand over his eyes. "I cannot say I had considered that complication before."

"But why do I have to wear this metal thing?" the king said in a very bad imitation of her voice. "I don't want anyone to know I'm queen! Actually, can I not be queen at all, please?"

"It would be a rather interesting coronation ceremony," Taensirion agreed.

Oropher finally managed to reduce his laughter to the occasional chuckle. "Perhaps I ought to decree that princes and princesses must wear crowns as well?"

"Sadly, I believe she is still insisting that she is not a princess," the advisor pointed out.

"Ah, well, perhaps that trend will continue if my son becomes king." Oropher leaned back and put his boots up on his desk. "So, what news of our visitor?"

"Thranduil assured me he has it under control," Taensirion reported. "Amazingly, it appeared he was correct. Eithryn even told me to make sure you knew she promised not to cause any trouble this afternoon."

"Hmm," said the rather impressed king, who was, in fact, starting to believe his daughter-in-law's promises on these things. "And Gil-Galad is staying how long, again?"

"Until he gets your answer, I expect."

"Wonderful." That meant the Noldor would leave tomorrow morning, at the latest. "Anything else?"

"Nothing important as far as politics go, but I did learn that one of King Gil-Galad's companions is King Dior's grandson."

"I see." Oropher, who was not all that excited about the presence of the grandson of an elf he had never particularly gotten along with, attempted to show his disinterest by glancing through a few more documents.

"Yes—his name is Elrond, if you remember. It seems he is now Gil-Galad's herald."

"Fascinating."

"Why, yes, I quite agree," said Taensirion, who had not failed to notice that he was being ignored, and who thus allowed a very small amount of sarcasm into his tone. "I could give you his entire life history, if you like."

Oropher placed his crown back on his head and stood up. "Please do not."

"If you insist. And what shall we be doing instead?"

"Bothering your wife, most likely."

"You know I am going to bring this up the next time you complain about Eithryn interfering with the feast preparations."

The king rolled his eyes. "What if I said helping your wife instead?"

"Is that what you plan to do?"

"No, not really."

"Well, then that does not change much, does it?"

. . . . . .

"Ah, father, there you are."

Oropher's heart missed a beat, but he refused to show any outward signs of being startled as he stopped and slowly turned around to discover Thranduil casually sitting in a tree almost directly above where he and Taensirion had just walked. "Indeed. I suppose you think yourself very clever for surprising two elves who were deep in conversation?"

"Taensirion winked at me as you passed," Thranduil informed him with a smirk.

Oropher eyed his advisor, who blinked as if surprised he would ever be accused of such a thing. The king did his best to appear unamused as he turned back to his son. "If you have come to tell me that your wife has gotten out of control, I would prefer not to know."

Thranduil hopped down onto the path. "Actually, I have a favor to ask." He folded his hands behind his back, a habit which had originated from trying to look like a well-behaved elfling in his youth, or so Oropher strongly suspected.

"Do tell," the king said warily. Something was going on if his son was presenting his request that way.

"You are aware, of course, that the visiting king is a good friend of my wife."

Clever how the boy said "visiting king" so as not to remind Oropher of who that king was. He did, however, appear to be unsure about whatever he was asking for, and that was not a good sign at all. "And?"

"They have gone out of their way to stay out of trouble today," Thranduil said defensively.

Oh, what had Eithryn done now? "I am aware. Please get to the point."

"I understand how you feel about our visitor—"

"Thranduil."

The prince took a deep breath. "Eithryn asks that you allow him to attend the feast, and I, too, request that you do so. Please."

Oropher leaned back on his heels. On the one hand, he was very much relieved that his son's request had nothing to do with forgiving any crimes that had already been committed, but on the other... Thranduil wanted him to let the Noldor king come to the feast?

Thranduil was not encouraged by his father's expression. "They promised not to cause any trouble if you allow it." Eithryn had also said that if Gil-Galad didn't get to come, she would cause twice as much trouble as usual, but he was hardly going to tell his father that.

Oropher turned to Taensirion, more to stall than to ask for advice. "I suppose you think I should say yes?"

"I do not think King Gil-Galad is likely to interfere with anything," Taensirion said carefully. "He went out of his way to follow your rules at the wedding, as I remember."

"Predictable." Oropher folded his arms across his chest and stared at Thranduil hard, but the prince just looked back with a perfect politely hopeful expression.

Oropher weighed the possibilities in his mind. On the negative side, the worst that could happen was a ruined feast and, again, an opportunity to tell the Noldor he would never again be welcome in Greenwood. On the positive side, he could win a few crumbs of gratitude from his daughter-in-law, and perhaps the Noldor would forget some of his annoyance from earlier that day.

And it would make Thranduil happy. Oropher groaned. "Make sure they know that if there are any disruptions, I will lock them both up for a decade."

Thranduil had not been expecting that answer. "Thank you, father!" He was already imagining telling Eithryn.

Of course he had to get excited about it, Oropher thought grumpily. "You are welcome. Now get out of my sight."

"Of course." Thranduil smirked once more, quite sure he knew the source of this new mood, and disappeared into the canopy.

Oropher turned to continue on his way and noticed Taensirion nodding in agreement with his choice. "Oh, shut up."

. . . . . .

"There he is." Oropher deliberately turned away, lifting his wineglass to his lips. He was going to need to be very drunk to forget the Noldor's presence tonight.

"Ah... Lanthirel, did Galion tell you which she-elf he is interested in?" Taensirion asked loudly enough for Oropher to clearly hear him. The king rolled his eyes at his friend's obvious attempt to distract him and did not turn around.

"Believe it or not, I was just going to go help him with that." Lanthirel smirked at Taensirion, who already knew that, of course. "You two are welcome to come along, as long as Oropher promises to behave."

"I most certainly do not," Oropher announced, but he stood up anyway, leaving the wine at his seat. Sadly, getting drunk when the Noldor was there was not the best idea.

Lanthirel led the way toward Galion, who, fortunately, was not with Thranduil and Eithryn—and, therefore, Gil-Galad—as usual, and was instead pacing back and forth on the edge of the moonlit clearing, looking like he did, indeed, need some help.

"Are you ready?" Lanthirel asked when they reached the rather panicky Silvan elf.

Galion gulped. "Yes."

"That's a first," Coryn said as he dropped out of the trees, followed by his sister. "You sure beat Felrion and Kilvara."

"Perhaps we should go back and not crowd our friend?" Taensirion suggested to Oropher, looking around at the now five elves who had apparently come to play cheerleader.

The king ignored him, too concerned with where Gil-Galad was if Eithryn was here. He very much hoped this would not turn out like the time something had possessed him to put her in charge of a group of dwarves.

Eithryn noticed him looking over his shoulder and bounced over. "Gil's with Thranduil and Felrion and Kilvara."

"Ah. Very good." Oropher raised an eyebrow as he fully registered what she had said. "'Gil'?"

"Yup." She grinned. "Please do tease him."

Oropher made a mental note to do just that as he tuned back in to the rest of the conversation. Lanthirel and Coryn were giving Galion some final pieces of advice, although it sounded like one was being more helpful than the other.

"It is just fine to sound scared," Lanthirel promised him. "She will probably think it is very cute." She winked at her husband as she spoke, and he sighed and half-rolled his eyes.

"And try not to scream and run until after you've told her," Coryn added. "Otherwise she'll be really confused."

Eithryn smacked his shoulder.

"You could even ask her to dance... or not," Taensirion amended as Galion's expression shifted from nervous to utterly terrified.

"This might be enough for one night," Lanthirel agreed. "Do not worry, Galion. You will do just fine."

"She'll love you," Eithryn agreed, hugging him. "Now go be awesome!" She nudged him toward the nearest elf-filled table. Lanthirel enthusiastically agreed, Taensirion wished Galion luck, and Coryn gave him a hard shove in that same direction. Oropher just stood back and prepared to watch the show.

"You can do this," Galion told himself sternly before taking a deep breath (and then two more) and marching toward the table.

"What's going on over here?"

The five turned to find Felrion and Kilvara approaching. "You are just in time," Oropher told them. He raised an eyebrow at Taensirion as his advisor subtly moved to his other side, farther from the newcomers. "Still not getting along with the healer, are we?"

Taensirion shrugged and did not answer.

"It would seem Galion has developed feelings for Caliel," Lanthirel explained quickly, seeming like she might burst from excitement now that the Silvan elf was on his way.

Kilvara gasped. "Ooh! Tell me that's where he's going!"

Eithryn nodded, and the three she-elves huddled together, whispering enthusiastically.

Coryn trotted over to where Oropher and Taensirion stood, motioning for Felrion to come over—Galion was just now reaching the not-so-far-away table due to his frequent pauses to mutter what sounded like rehearsals of what he would say—but his friend stayed back, eyeing Taensirion warily. Coryn looked at Oropher and shook his head, and the king shrugged. Then they both turned their eyes and keen ears to where Galion haltingly took the last few steps to the table. "Bet you two pieces of information that he doesn't do it," Coryn whispered to Oropher, referring to their recently-started exchange of such useful tidbits.

"Deal." The boy looked determined to tell her, and Oropher wanted Coryn's information more than the Silvan elf wanted his.

Galion was at the table now, shifting nervously as he apparently waited for a pause in the conversation. "Oh, just go for it," Oropher muttered under his breath. He would have.

"He'll chicken out, just watch," Coryn said.

Taensirion looked at the two of them like they were plotting to kill someone.

Galion found his pause in the conversation, and the watching elves were just barely able to pick out his voice over the hundreds of others. "Hey, Caliel?"

One of the she-elves—the one Oropher recognized only because her strawberry-blond hair was a unique shade of almost-pink—turned to sit backwards in her chair. "Oh, hi, Galion. What's up?"

Galion visibly swallowed. "Oh, you know..."

"He's going to bolt," Coryn assured Oropher.

And for a second, it looked like that was exactly what would happen. But then Galion squared his shoulders and said with uncharacteristic boldness, "I just want you to know that I really like you. In fact, do you want to dance?"

For once, Coryn looked absolutely stupefied. The three she-elves pumped their fists in the air, Taensirion seemed rather amazed, and Oropher gave Coryn a smug smirk.

Caliel tapped her lip as she appraised Galion, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

"All right, all right, you win," Coryn muttered at Oropher, whose smirk was only growing.

. . . . . .

"I still am not used to how late the Silvans marry," Taensirion mused to Oropher a while later, watching Galion dance quite gracefully with Caliel.

The king, who was still mildly annoyed at Taensirion for following Lanthirel to Thranduil and Eithryn's table and thus making him choose whether to go near Gil-Galad or talk to the particularly uninteresting elf next to him, grunted noncommittally and continued to stare at the Noldor in a hostile manner. Eithryn, however, looked up curiously. "When do Sindar marry?"

Taensirion turned to his wife. "I was... what, fifty-six? That would have made you fifty-nine."

"That's right," Lanthirel confirmed.

Eithryn blinked. "Fifty-six?!"

Taensirion shrugged. "That was how we did it in Doriath."

"Most of us," Thranduil put in. He had been far older, of course.

Oropher reluctantly turned away from his one-sided staring contest with Gil-Galad (who was wisely pretending he did not exist). "Yes, and most of us had children within a few centuries of marrying, as well."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain you want grandchildren?" he inquired, nodding meaningfully toward Eithryn.

She smacked his arm. "Hey!"

"I expect it will be worth the risk," Oropher said calmly. As much as he feared a gang of little Eithryns running around, he was getting rather jealous of Taensirion, who now had four grandchildren.

"And like I told you last time he was here, I want nieces and nephews," Coryn said, pointing at Gil-Galad, who nodded, remembering that event clearly.

Eithryn turned her wide, hopeful eyes on Thranduil.

"Perhaps when everything settles down," the prince told her uncomfortably.

"True, I guess you should wait until after the war," admitted Felrion, who, along with his wife, had also been looking rather hopeful that the prince and princess might soon have children.

"Then we'll have to make it a short war," Eithryn threatened.

Gil-Galad sighed. "Let us hope it is." He paused and glanced at Oropher.

Greenwood's king clenched his jaw, but forced the promise out of his mouth in a reasonably civil manner. "We will march with you when the time comes."

"In that case, the fight should be short indeed." He lifted his wineglass. "To a quick victory."

"To a quick victory," the others agreed, clinking their glasses together.

After the toast, the conversation briefly dissolved into several small discussions for a few minutes until Kilvara noticed Galion and Caliel approaching. "Hi!"

"Hi," Galion returned, pulling a chair out for Caliel, who turned it around backwards before sitting as she had a few minutes before. "Thanks," the butler mouthed to the others while the she-elf was not looking. Several whispered "you're welcome"s came back at him.

Coryn spoke before any of the three she-elves could ask how the dance had been. "So when are you two getting marr—Ouch! Kilvara!"

The red-haired elf only pinched his ear harder. "You be nice, Stormfire."

"Ow," he grumbled. "You're one to talk. Weren't you about to try to pry every detail out of them?"

"Well, yeah, but they want to talk about that." She turned to Galion and Caliel. "Right?"

Galion blushed, while Caliel made a face. Neither answered.

"What? But..." Kilvara huffed. "Fine. What should we do instead?"

"I have an idea," Oropher offered, because he had indeed been waiting for this opportunity all evening. He turned to Taensirion. "Drinking contest."

He did not even finish the second word before the advisor was shaking his head. "No, Oropher."

Oropher raised an eyebrow. "Coward."

"You still have not told me what happened last time."

Oropher was trying to decide how best to tease him into it when Caliel interrupted. "Better idea."

Everyone turned to look at her.

She turned to Galion. "You and me," she challenged. "Last one awake wins."

Everyone's eyes went even wider when Galion did not seem the least bit surprised. Indeed, he leaned forward eagerly. "You're on."

. . . . . .

A few minutes later, Galion was snoring peacefully under the table and a rather drunk Caliel was trying to start another drinking contest with Thranduil. Oropher leaned over to Taensirion. "Interesting pairing."

Taensirion nodded.

"Though I have seen stranger," the king remarked, nodding toward where Eithryn was cheering Thranduil on as he drained another glass.

The other Sindar grinned and raised an eyebrow at him. "She really is not so bad, you know."

"Do not make me throw my plate at you, Taensirion."

If you hadn't noticed, bad things are about to start happening. If you have any nice, happy things for me to write about before such things occur, now's the time to say so. Also, leave a review or Oropher will tell your crush you like them :D