The door closed behind Erumar with a gentle click as it settled, leaving her in the two rooms that would become the home that she would enjoy for as long as she chose to remain in Lasgalen. The front room itself was spacious and nicely laid out; she could not say pretty but furnished with good taste. Studying it, calling it hers for the moment was probably a bit too much but it suited her for now. Moving forward and into the adjoining room, she was immediately taken in by the stunning craftsmanship in the woodwork around the room itself and across the dresser and bedposts and headboard. The dresser was covered with acorns and oak leaves, while the bed carved with leaping deer and a flowing stream. She reached out and laid a hand across the throat of a stag and studied it before eyeing the rest of the room. This was a beautiful bed. Slowly, she lowered herself to sit upon it and at once experienced a vast sense of comfort. That was more than she could have said since the moment she had set foot in Lasgalen.

Perhaps that was a bit unfair, if she were honest with herself, but she was often not as honest as she should be. She had expected Thranduil's home to have as overwhelming a presence as he had, and she had not been wrong. From the beauty of the place to the enormity of it, she was taken in by it. None of that should have bothered her after living in Lothlórien; the Lady's presence enough at times would engulf you if you were not careful. But this was something else…something much more personal.

Yes, if she had admitted it to herself when she had encountered Fânrim and his troop of bowmen when they had first introduced themselves and discussed knowing of Haldir, she could have said that she had noticed it then. But she assumed that it was nothing of any real importance; simply their reaction to a meeting of another of their kin. Instead, as she met more and more of Thranduil's people, she could see it in their welcoming faces. Each one, delighted to meet her; each one, interested to get a glimpse of the elf from Rivendell through Lórien…the elf whom for some reason every one of them had decided they were going to accept and appreciate…the elf, it was rumored, who had captured the eye of their King.

She should have known that such a thing would happen, and undeniably make her uncomfortable. Oh, not Thranduil, of course, he would never put such a thought among his people. In fact, he would be downright upset if he knew what all of them were thinking or saying to one another. But of course everyone would see it that way. Thranduil himself had not invited someone to the Greenwood in thousands of years and for him to do it was so unusual that everyone within his kingdom wanted to meet her, speak with her. She was instantly liked, instantly praised even as she walked away from being introduced by Gieled, the guard who had shown her to her quarters and given her a bit of a tour on the way. Every single elf introduced to her clearly agreed with whatever they had heard about her, knowing that without a doubt she was exactly what they had hoped for when the rumors had begun. And Gieled had announced that he would return to show her around more fully after she was settled in and rested, but she was beginning to feel that perhaps today would not be the best of days for it. Already, she was feeling crowded, hemmed in, and awkward. The guardsman was right: it would be best if she could just...take some time to calm down from all of it. Though he could never have understood why.

Time passed, and she had no idea how long she sat there stewing in her uncomfortable thoughts before she was startled out of them by a knock on the door. An inward groan filled her chest; she was not ready for Gieled to return for her, even though she was unsure of the time and in fact, she had only come even more firmly into the resolution that she was not ready for any of this and just wanted to be left alone. Rising then, with every intention of turning him away in kindness, she came out of the bedroom and crossed to the door.

So she was quite shocked when upon opening the door she was face-to-face with not Gieled, but the much taller and completely unexpected Thranduil.

"Good evening, my dear," he said, bowing slightly, and she forgot to respond as she took him in for a moment. He had changed from his traveling garb and was now dressed in a deep pine-colored tunic that made him simply…breath-taking. Should that term be used to describe a man? Yet there was no other word that would come to mind and physically, it was true. She could think of nothing to speak to him, staring at his long hair as he began to straighten up to face her again. He smiled at her. "Have you settled in? How do you like your quarters?"

She mentally slapped herself and, embarrassed, finally forced herself to respond to him. "Good evening, my Lord. The room is beautiful, and so is your home."

"Has Gieled been showing you about?" he asked. "I suspect he would have shown you some of the place on your way."

"I was grateful," she replied, nodding. "He did show me a bit of it, and I met many of your people already. They are happy to have you returned."

He smiled. "Yes, they are good people." She smiled back and suddenly stepped back from the door; he took her in with his eyes as she did so, fully aware of the abrupt movement and the way she looked away from his eyes. The better time to look at her.

"Forgive me, my Lord," she said, blushing, "did you wish to come inside?"

"Um…" His distracted reply brought her head up to meet his eyes as he continued, "No, in fact. I came in the hopes that you might wish to take a walk with me. It is later than I had hoped to come, but returning does require a bit of settling in."

"Of course, Thranduil. I did not expect to see you until at least tomorrow," she added honestly.

"And leave you here to fend for yourself? Not having any idea where you are in a new place?" He shook his head. "I would never insult you in such a way."

"You are not insulting me," she insisted. "You are the King—"

"And you are my guest," he stated, raising his eyebrows at her. "Therefore, permit me, my dear, to ask you if you would like to walk with me?" He saw her hesitation, and he assumed that he knew exactly what was going through her mind. "Come," he urged her. "I promise it will be worth it."

Erumar, hand on his arm, walked beside him, her blue cloak trailing across the snow. The moonlight was out in full now, the sparkling icicles shining bright along the trees near the forest river where they walked. They were on a quiet path down below the main bridge into the front doors of Lasgalen. In fact, the entire time she had been walking with him, she had seen not one other soul, almost as though it had been purposeful. It was so peaceful that her heart was finally beginning to settle from the arrival and business of the day.

"It is stunningly beautiful here," she told him, walking beneath the heavy-laden trees.

"And quiet," he added, nodding. She looked up into his face, but he was not looking at her, watching the river raging between sheets of ice. "It is a good place to be restored, to walk in the peacefulness of nature and enjoy it. Nowhere to be. No needs to be met except one's own."

"That cannot be for you," she said lightly, teasing. "You have many needs to meet."

"I did not mean me," he said, his voice gentle and he looked down into her eyes. His were so serious, so full of compassion for her that she looked down and away, embarrassed. "Today was more overwhelming than I had hoped for you."

She wondered at him knowing that. He had not been there. Had Gieled spoken to him? No…Tauriel. It was definitely Tauriel. She had been there for half of the tour and the meetings, and she would not keep such a thing from Thranduil, not for her sake.

"I am sorry for it," he continued. "One needs…time…to accept a new place."

"It was not the place," she murmured. "Your kingdom is full of beauty and light. Your people are a delight—"

"But they have thoughts of their own. I…" He shook his head. "I did not mean for their thoughts to trouble you. I wanted you to visit here, Erumar. I wanted you to come and free yourself of your burdens for a time. Lasgalen could have peace for you."

Because your presence is here. She did not say the words; it was too early for them, and she often did not know what to feel—how to understand what she was coming to understand about them, their relationship with one another. They had been together again for nearly four months now and yet she was still unsure of herself, her place, her words, even her thoughts.

"I needed the quiet of this walk tonight," she admitted. "This place is so peaceful. It is as a refuge in a storm. I do not see myself in a storm, Thranduil…but I do need a refuge."

"I know that you have spent too much time thinking of what has happened these past few months, of what was asked of you, done to you—"

"What I have done," she whispered, her face beginning to burn.

"No," he disagreed, drawing her to a halt. "You did nothing."

"Oh, Thranduil," she sighed, looking away from him and withdrawing her hand from his arm, "let us not argue. It was too peaceful here."

He caught her hand and turned to her, holding it between his own. "What happened with Elessar was not of your doing."

She shook her head. "Please, I do not wish to talk about it anymore."

"I know it is difficult for you to accept, but you must," he said gently, his voice low.

She was silent as he looked upon her, little flakes in her hair as gems, shining in the starlight. Ilúvatar in heaven, she was beautiful. She would not look at him, staring as she was across the other side of the river, the cliff edge and forest beyond, her eyes taking in the fresh, fallen snow where no one but a lone deer had trod.

"I wish…" she murmured, studying the shimmering beauty of it, barely aware that she had spoken aloud. "I wish I felt as clean, as pure as this snow…"

He frowned deeply and reached out and stroked along the back of her head, just once, to draw her attention. "You need to forgive yourself," he said to her, this for the fiftieth time since he had been with her the night she had attempted to seduce Aragorn. "You need time, Erumar. This place can give you that."

"This place…"

"I can give you that."

She looked up at him, into his incredible blue eyes, his expression so serious, earnest. He offered her peace, and, for certain, something more…always something more. The promise of life, of peace, of a lifting of her burdens, and perhaps eventually…love. He kept his eyes on hers.

"We have all the time we could want," he whispered. "There is no hurry. None at all."

"It may take all that time," she said honestly. "Every last bit of it."

"That is well enough," he said to her, and she felt his hand stroke the back of her head once more before he took the hand in his back to his arm and began walking with her again. She caught a little smile on his face as she heard him repeat, "We have all the time we could want."

"You know me too well already," she said softly, and she heard him chuckle.

"No, my dear, just well-enough I am afraid." He looked down into her face again, the moonlight once more shining in his very sincere gaze. "But someday soon…I hope to say too well."