Author's Note: The season of summer has come to the Greenwood. More to come, eventually! Thank you for your patience, and enjoy reading as much as I have been enjoying writing these characters!

"Ugh! The King is insufferable today!"

That grumble of frustration was overheard by Erumar as she was walking past the door to the kitchen in the dining hall. It was here that many of the elves who lived in Lasgalen took their breakfast collectively; sometimes she dined with them, sometimes she dined with the guard, and sometimes she dined in Thranduil's hall which had a longer table but was a single room—which she presumed was made for more personal dining with the King and his family. After living here for as many months as she had, she had come to both learn and enjoy the ins and outs of the place, had come to enjoy getting to know the many people who had wished to get to know her. Though at times overwhelming, she was grateful to never run out of things to do and people to speak with. This was good for someone whose mind needed to remain occupied. Too much time alone was never a good thing.

But the words drew her attention and she paused at the frame of the doorway before coming into sight. She did not want to eavesdrop really, but she simply could not help it.

"It was not quite that bad, Tilean. He only—"

"It was that bad," responded Tilean hotly. "In a mood from the moment he came through the doors; he came angry and he left angry. Irritable beyond anything I have seen from him in months, perhaps even years! I simply do not know what his problem was this morning."

"Something, or someone, must have stirred his ill-temper," the other voice replied in a more moderate tone. "Lately, he has been very reasonable in tone and manner."

"Well, I am uncertain what so affected him, but he was downright awful."

Erumar stepped back from the wall and frowned. Thranduil must have been in rare form today if even those who served in the kitchens were complaining about him. She wondered what was affecting him so as she turned to leave the dining area. Walking past one of the long tables, she reached out and plucked an apple from it, continuing her walk toward the door.

As she ate her apple and walked through the haphazard corridors, she reminisced about the first month she had been here. It had not taken her too long to learn where she was going, but she had never seen a place more confusingly laid out. If an enemy were to attempt to figure it out, they would get quite lost within the maze of passageways, even though they were far less narrow and dark than she had expected. The longer she lived here, the more all of it grew on her, and she had liked it very much from the moment she had laid eyes on it. There was a beauty in it, in all of Thranduil's design, and she could see how much he loved the woods and cared for his people in everything he did. Yes, in many ways he was overprotective. That was evident in the manner of the guard and even in the building of this place. But it was made in a different time—a time when there had been so much evil, a time when he had lost his father and been recovering from a battle with Sauron for Middle-Earth. All of life's events have an effect on a person; they certainly did on Thranduil.

She rounded a corner and nearly on top of her was Tauriel. She did not even have time to say her name or to greet her when the much younger elf collided with her. She had been moving so quickly that Erumar was knocked into the wall, but then immediately righted as she felt Tauriel's strong hands grip her upper arms.

"Oh, forgive me, Erumar!" she cried. "I did not even see you there! I was so distracted, I—"

Erumar laughed, waving her off. "Your head was down," she replied. "Neither one of us are hurt, nor is there any harm done! You certainly seemed lost in thought and in quite a hurry. How are you this morning?"

"Everything is fine," she replied. "Fine. And how is your morning?"

Erumar took the five-second opportunity that was afforded her in Tauriel's response and studied her face. There was an attempt at a smile, but it was distracted. Her eyes were red, as if she had been near tears and prevented herself from crying. This was a Tauriel that was distressed; something was the matter.

"It was quiet until I made my way into breakfast. Are you in a hurry this morning?"

Tauriel shook her head. "No, not at all, I—"

"How about we walk together, and then we can talk?"

Tauriel nodded, and fell into step alongside her, and although the much younger elf appeared confused, the two of them turned down the long corridor that Tauriel had just been walking up. Eventually, this passage would lead to the outside and let them out not far from the gardens. This was where she assumed Thranduil would be, which led her to believe that Tauriel's distress stemmed from the same source as the elves she had overheard this morning.

The red-head clasped her hands behind her back and closed her eyes as she wandered along beside Erumar, their pace much slower than when Tauriel had been coming the opposite direction. "I only just came from here," she said.

The statement fully confirmed what Erumar had deduced.

"How was your morning…really?"

She sighed, eyes still closed. "It could have begun better, I suppose. Though it could also have been much worse, so…I decided years ago that I should not complain. I have lived through many-a morning that was much worse, in fact," she admitted. "Forgive me, Erumar. I am rambling."

"I thought we were going to talk," Erumar reminded her. "You are not rambling."

"It is not my place to speak," she continued, and her pace slowed even more. "Perhaps you should just continue on your own. I am sure you can find your way from here."

"I do not ask you to come out with me," Erumar told her softly as she reached over and laid a hand on her arm, "just to walk with me if you would." Tauriel sighed but continued walking alongside her. "I know exactly where you came from. I heard some talk in the kitchen just this morning that the King was in quite the mood." She smiled knowingly. "It seems he has been taking out his aggression on everything that breathes. Has he been tearing at you as well?"

"I do not have the right to—"

"We agreed to talk, did we not?" Erumar pressed her gently and Tauriel sighed.

"It is nothing that I cannot handle. And…though I feel strange speaking ill of him at any moment, it is especially wrong when it is unjustified. He cannot help it, Erumar—"

"He cannot help a sharp tone?" she asked Tauriel softly. "No matter how we are feeling, we do not have the right to tear others' down with the words we use."

"The words he could help," she whispered, her voice thick before she swallowed and cleared it. "He cannot help the circumstance. I have known him for years; I know well enough to leave him alone. That was all he wanted, and I did not heed the signs. Usually, he is a little better later in the day, toward afternoon when he has had time to settle things in his heart." She shook her head again. "I knew better, and still I did not listen. But…things had been so much better recently and I thought…" She hesitated, and Erumar wondered at her wet eyes. "Well, it matters very little what I thought."

"What have you known for years?" Erumar questioned her. "What is it about today, Tauriel?"

"That is where you are going, yes? You are going outside to see if you can talk with him."

"It is my intention to find him, yes," she replied. "Do you not think I should?"

Tauriel sighed. "Even if I were to tell you to leave him be, you would not; you would go to him anyway." She looked forward again toward the light at the end of the tunnel. "Perhaps that is just as well. He needs someone to sit with him that he cannot turn away, and he obviously does not want that person to be me. No, it cannot be me. He chases everyone away from him as fast as he can so that he can stew in the silence." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No, definitely not me, but perhaps you can better bridge the gap between him and the rest of the world. You are good for him; you can try to talk to him, attempt to crack the impenetrable shell with something more akin to an ice pick instead of a hammer.

"Who tried a hammer?" asked Erumar softly. "That does not seem like a gentle instrument."

Tauriel smiled wryly. "That was Legolas, of course. He simply turned Legolas away." She sighed. "He shouts at me."

"Shouts?"

"Snarls would be a better word. He digs in with his claws and…tears at you, to use your word, until you leave well enough alone. Or he has hurt you enough to chase you away for the day." Erumar looked over at her with compassion and saw that her eyes were wet, but there were no tears. But Tauriel attempted to laugh softly at the expression on her face. "Do not pity me, Erumar. Tomorrow will be better and he shall be contrite enough. I should have had more grace for him, knowing what today was. I speak out of far too much experience in these matters."

Erumar did pity Tauriel. She did not know enough about her past to know all of the burdens that Tauriel carried, but she did know that it was obvious that Tauriel had been mistreated in many ways, many of them by Thranduil. Of course, all of the things that Tauriel had said only led to one possible explanation. Thranduil was grieving in the only way he knew how: using his temper to express his grief on everyone around him. She knew that in some way or another, today must hold some significance in his past with Glosvana. She knew that from her experience.

"Tauriel, what is the day? What is today the memory of? What is he grieving over; do you know?" she asked softly. The two of them drew to a halt at the entrance to the path that led outside to the garden, the sun filtering through the trees, two guards just outside. Tauriel turned to face her, sighing softly.

"It was the day he found her," she replied quietly.

Erumar wanted to ask her exactly what that meant, but perhaps it was better that she did not before she went to him. She was not certain exactly what she would say yet, but when the time came, maybe she would know. She did, however, understand why Thranduil was sending others away, but that did not grant him an excuse to treat his people with such disregard. If she were honest though, it reminded her of what she had done to chase away Enguina at the end. Aside from that time, their temperaments were so different that they had taken to lashing out in different ways in their grief: hers to hiding, his to hostility.

"When we were in Minas Tirith," Erumar began thoughtfully, "Thranduil and I agreed that when we needed to speak of those we had lost, we might walk in the garden in peace. We had agreed to do the same here; that at any time as we were walking and one of us decided to share, we would, but otherwise we would simply be an understanding presence for the other."

Tauriel smiled. "That is a very nice thought. Have you often been together in the garden, in the quiet?"

"In Minas Tirith we were, and in Ithilien, though that garden was much smaller and we ended up out in the woods mostly. Here we have only been there a few times." She nodded to herself. "His mind is more preoccupied here…and that has been good for him."

"Does it help?"

"To walk?"

"Together. Does it help?"

Erumar sighed. "Sometimes," she replied honestly. "Most often, he is the one speaking, and I am listening. I…do not have much to say."

"You will," Tauriel replied quietly. "Give yourself some time, Erumar. It has been only a few years for you, but several lifetimes for him. And he has been wanting to open to someone for a very long time," she added. "He has never found the right person…until now. He is more open with you, and I will be grateful for anything your counseling shall do for his heart. Perhaps I should not worry for him as I do, but I cannot help myself."

"You are as responsible for his well-being as he is for yours." She laid her hand on Tauriel's arm. "I will go to him, and walk with him or sit with him, even in silence. Sometimes, all is needed is a silent companion."

"I pray that he will, at the very least, be civil if he cannot be kind."

"Everything will be fine," she replied, squeezing Tauriel's arm. "I will handle what I receive."

Tauriel laughed and bowed her head. "I believe you can, Erumar." Since the very first days of knowing her, Tauriel fully believed that no matter what she was faced with, she would eventually adapt. Some of that adapting had been very difficult, but she felt that when applying that 'handling' to Thranduil, Erumar would excel brilliantly. "I believe you can handle him."

Erumar laughed, too. "Perhaps that is an offensive term. If he ever heard us using it, I am certain he would be insulted."

"On the contrary," Tauriel replied, raising her eyebrows, "I think he would be inclined to agree."

"To which part? That he requires handling, or that I can do it?"

"Both," she affirmed. "Perhaps I will see you later?"

"Perhaps you shall see us both. Have a good day."

"Good day."

Tauriel nodded to her and receded down the corridor. Erumar, however, made her way out into the garden, her eyes scanning all the while for Thranduil.

Thranduil was stewing; he felt as though his temper ebbed and flowed as a pot of boiling water, roiling around just beneath the service of his skin. He sat, temporarily, on a bench at the very edge of the garden nearest the woods and as far away from the entrance to Lasgalen as possible. At moments he remained there, and when the pressure, the urge, to move drove him to his feet he would pace back and forth between the closest rows of roses, always returning to the bench. He was on edge both literally, as in the end of the bench, and figuratively: eager for someone to take out his irritation on, eager for an argument; his spat with Tauriel this morning had helped to take the edge off and now it was back, brooding in his mind and growing like a shadow in the sun.

His hawk-eyes spun about as he turned at the rustle of fabric on skin, the brush of feet on grass, the sounds of a person drawing near, and immediately he turned back with a cold shoulder, his eyes darkening in irritation at the intrusion, his temper drawing him into the darkness of the shadow in his head.

What do you want? Go away and leave me be.

"Good morning, Thranduil."

Three very calm words, from the lips of the person whom he knew he definitely did not want to hear a single word from just now.

"Is it?" His cutting words came out, unbidden, fierce and whip-like in retaliation. The words were meant to halt her; evidently his goal was to wound and send her on the retreat as soon as possible. "You, perhaps, are enjoying a good morning in your common routine; a breakfast, a few social interactions, a little sunrise and in delight, you go about your simple day. Whereas I see nothing good about it. Not one damn thing. No…there are no good mornings to be had here. Take them with you as you go."

The words were quite final, and he felt they were quite good actually. He had said them with such clipped precision that there was not one ounce of feeling revealed aside from cold pronouncement. Yes, they were perfect, and they should send her fleeing, which was just as well. Just as well that he should chase her away; just as well that she would not wish to have one damn thing to do with him, especially today—just like everyone else he had worked so hard to be rid of; just as well—

He was taken aback as Erumar slipped onto the bench beside him; even though he tried, his face could not help but display seconds of momentary shock as she placed her hands in her lap. The edge of her lips curled up into a wry smile and one brow rose as she looked at his face.

"That was quite a speech," she said softly. "Do you rehearse that often?"

His eyes darkened to black and as his frigid control slipped for a moment, she caught just a glimpse of an incredible temper that could have been simply explosive. Seething, his eyes aflame, he opened his mouth to cut her to shreds. Just as his chin dropped, she slipped her hand between the hands in his lap and laced her fingers through his. She did not say anything to him, only lowered her gaze to the hands in his lap that now also held hers.

It disarmed him immediately.

Whatever retort he had intended was completely gone. Whatever words he had planned to spit out to slap her 'good morning' in the face had flown from his mind; the comfort of the feel of her hand on his own was enough. Shockingly, it was enough. Thranduil's eyes dropped to their joined hands as well, and the sudden tears that flooded his eyes made him turn his head even further away from her gaze, though she had no intention of looking him in the face just then. He was not sure if she did not look at him because she knew, she knew he needed a moment to collect himself, or if it was because she was afraid to see his reaction—though somehow, he knew it was the former, not the latter. She was, if nothing else, completely unafraid of him. She would not have touched him if she was.

Somehow, he thinks, she is giving him space even as she is quietly invading it. It is a rescue of sorts…a feeling of knowing that he is not alone, even as he has tried to be. The moment is so moving that he cannot speak; that she has pummeled her way into this moment of his life, into the agonizing grief that he has felt and suffered this day; every day, to be sure, but especially on this particular day. She has made herself a part of his life, a welcome part that he had entirely forgotten until this instant. The transition from being alone to being with her had been something he recognized daily until he had woken this morning. Now, it has all returned to him.

His eyes shifted to glance over at her, and now her eyes were closed. He watched as nearly without moving she tucked her legs up onto the bench beside her, her hand still within his. He blinked, regaining the rest of his control.

"I did not wish to be found," he said, his voice soft and reflective, nothing like it had been moments before. He heard her sigh, and in her quiet listened to the quiet around him for the first time that morning; the birds' soft song throughout the garden, a gentle breeze that caused the leaves to shimmy. All of it drawing the scent of summer to Thranduil's senses.

"I know," she replied gently, and said nothing more, simply left her hand in his.

Slowly, the shoulders that had been aching with the tension of the day that had long begun before ten o'clock in the morning began to relax. Slowly, the headache that had begun since his argument with Tauriel receded as he focused on the singing birds. Slowly, his temper faded until all that remained was the ache that continued in his heart at the memories that the rising sun had brought.

Thranduil had no idea how long they sat there without speaking. It must have been some time though, because the shadows on the ground were changing from the movement of the earth and the sun.

He finally spoke, his eyes fixed on her hand in his. "I found Glosvana today."

He had not meant for the words to quite come out that way; he was not even certain she would understand what they meant, and he was not sure if he cared if she understood. He just needed to talk; for the first time, he felt the need to tell someone what he had felt that day. He had never had any urge to do so before, but the ache within him was forcing itself out. He just kept talking then, not babbling—never babbling—but talking, in the same even, quiet tone, attempting to keep his emotions in check.

"With Legolas and twenty of my finest soldiers, I reached the place we had been tracking them. It was a horrifying place, an orc stronghold of the North. We had traveled over a hundred miles to find her, to follow their steps. Any foes we faced along the road were destroyed easily for I was so anxious for her. We could not be stopped; I could not be stopped. I had never entered the fortress before, but when we arrived we slaughtered our way through as though we had been there a hundred times. I led the way through tunnels flooded with orcs, through the darkest dungeons witnessing the vilest acts of atrocity carried out within them." He swallowed hard, and he watched Erumar's hand tighten in his own. "I had been holding onto hope that we could reach her in time, but the farther we went, the deeper we journeyed, I began to realize that my hope was useless…pointless. I do not remember how long we were there, how many dead we left, how we even got out of there…I only remember what I felt, what I saw after I opened that door.

"She was there, lying on her side, stretched out facing the wall. At first I thought she was dressed in strange clothing, but then I realized it was muscle and sinew I was looking at and that she was covered with and lying in dried blood…I saw red and filth and nakedness. Her beautiful, golden hair had been shorn off, her wrists joined with rope at the small of her back, her shoulders and elbows and knees disjointed at odd angles. I went to her side, unable to breathe from the smell of death—I cannot say how long she had been gone." His eyes closed in agony as the memory washed over him. "How they had mutilated her, the way they cut her body with no respect for her life, how they had made her endure such torture, how she had suffered…her face was…" His breath caught and he shook his head, thinking of the wounds and slashes across her maimed face and breasts, unable to speak the words aloud. He felt Erumar's other hand close around his as she shifted closer to him, her knees bumping his as she cupped his hands within hers; they were warm and comforting when he felt as though his were as cold as ice. Despite the summer heat, he felt chilled to the bone.

"I remember thrusting my hand out to prevent Legolas from seeing her, shouting aloud for Fânrim to stop him, and then gathering her broken body in my arms so he could not see her face…see what they had done," he choked out. "She had been butchered, and even knowing that she was already dead brought me no comfort. She would never know that I had come; she would never know that I had come to search for her, that I had meant to rescue her and was too late. She had died in agony…and utterly alone.

"I do not know how long I held her against me, her dead weight in my arms. I remember there was too much screaming…it was likely mine. I remember Fânrim telling me that we had no choice and that we had to get out; we were in the deepest bowels of that fortress and were going to need to fight every moment out of it as well as we had done coming in. Fânrim would tell you there was orc after orc slain in those four walls, but I did not see it; I had no eyes for anything but her. Due to the multitude of orcs we needed to fight and my…complete loss of composure, there was…there was no way that any man could be spared to take her body when they were half-carrying me out of there…and if we remained any longer we would never have made it out of there alive. And that…it was the last time I…I ever held her in my arms…"

His eyes were so full of tears that he did not think he could contain them, but somehow he managed to let the grief pour over him and not out of him. He felt the warmth of her near to him and tried to absorb it into himself through his hands, his knee; he could feel it radiating from the shoulder brushing his. A sudden urge to escape, to run away, overcame him but he shoved the feeling away, forcing himself to recognize her presence for what it was meant to be: a comfort, a help, a listening ear for his sadness and woe, and what he assumed was Ilúvatar's way of gifting him eventual peace.

Erumar's heart was crushed for him, her hands tight around his. She knew that whatever had happened to his wife had to have been horrible, yet this she could never have foreseen. When Tauriel had said today was the day he found her, she did not realize that was because Glosvana had been taken, that he had hunted for her. How had she come to be at the orc fortress? Had the orcs come to the Greenwood and taken her? She had suffered in ways Erumar could not even imagine and then he had found her…and been forced to abandon her within that same fortress. Yet…as horrifying as the tale had been, Erumar was thankful for the opportunity to listen; knowing what he was experiencing in his head, in his heart today was important to her. She wanted to be able to help, to comfort, and she knew that sitting beside him right now and listening was the best thing she could do for him. Though she would never have thought that Thranduil would simply tell her the story, for any reason, she was grateful that he had finally spoken of it. He had opened the door to his grief and let her step inside; it was a step she had never expected…and that she personally could never have taken if their situations had been reversed.

"I am so sorry, Thranduil," Erumar murmured, her voice gentle.

"I remember the moment we came running out of that fortress," he continued. His voice now betrayed the emotion he felt, raw and full of pain; he could not contain it any longer. "I was half-dragged along still, I remember Legolas still firing arrows back into the orcs that had been coming after us, but I do not remember the way out. Fânrim told me on the return journey that the tunnels had been overcome with orcs, how it was a blessing we had all made it out alive. I could not…" he shook his head. "That was no blessing to me at the time. I wanted…I wanted…"

"To be with her," she said tearfully.

"God, yes," he said, choking on the words. "I wanted to be dead. I needed to be dead so I…so I could tell her the things that I had not said, that I was sorry. I needed her to know that I had come for her, that of course I had come, even after all of the things we had said to one another. I could tell her none of those things. As I was dragged from that stronghold, the sunrise struck my eyes, glittering golden and red, the light striking the clouds and fracturing as a fan against them—brilliant, glorious even. And I thought in that moment…that I would never again see a sunrise and look at it the same way again.

"I was so full of grief, and then I was so angry, that every time I would think to speak to Ilúvatar, I would turn my back on him. At my lowest moments, I would beg him to take my life and then shun him again. I have since made some peace with him," he added honestly, and then his lips suddenly, miraculously curved into a little smile. "It was the coming of Tauriel into my life that made me return to prayer."

Erumar choked on a laugh at his words, but it sounded more like a sob. "Oh, Thranduil!"

He raised his eyes from her hands to her face, even as she looked away, tears on her cheeks. "Do not cry, Erumar," he said gently, and she shook her head fiercely. "Why are you crying?"

"I cannot help it," she said, lifting her head to look into his face. "For so long you had lived together, been her husband, do you think that she did not know that you loved her? That you worshipped her, as you told me when we first walked in the gardens of Minas Tirith? Thranduil, an argument, no matter how serious, does not make someone forget how much they love. She loved you; do not doubt it! Her first thought when in that place would have been for you, for Legolas…you both were all she would have thought of."

His eyes were steady on hers. He sensed she was not going to wipe her tears away, even if she wanted to, unwilling to let go of his hands. He took matters upon himself then and slipped one of his own out of hers, reaching up to wipe away her tears. "Thank you," he said, "sometimes I can only think of the misery of her condition, what she would have suffered. What it must have been like to…to know that I was not going to come…that I was not going to be able to save her."

She took one of her hands and laid it against his face. He closed his eyes. "Do not think that way. Think that her thoughts were full of you and Legolas, that they were full of the joy of her family, and how much she loved you both. That is where her mind would have been."

She heard him sigh; it was low and sorrowful. "I want to believe that."

"I do," she told him gently, lowering her hand to cover his again. "I am sorry, Thranduil. I am so sorry for what happened to her, to your family, to you. That she had to suffer so much, and that you needed to endure it all."

"We all have…endured things…in our time." He said this as he studied her face, and she nodded slowly, meeting his eyes again.

"Yes, we all have suffered, but do not let that minimize what you have suffered," she whispered to him. "You found her, Thranduil, and then…to be forced to leave her like that…" Her eyes were still bright with tears. "And even in all the horror that you saw, you still thought to protect your son from seeing exactly what had become of his mother. Even in your own pain, you thought to have Fânrim stop him."

"Oh, he was so angry," he replied, his lips forming a thin line. "In the end, he would not speak to me because I did not let him touch her, let him get close enough to her. But how could I? I could not let him. If I had allowed him to do that…it would have changed him forever."

"It saved him," Erumar said. "You saved him from the nightmares that you bore on your own. He did not understand then, when it happened, and how could you have explained to him when it was so fresh in your own heart? But now, so many years later, he must know that you were protecting him, shielding him." She attempted to smile at him. "Protecting others is something you do well. From what I have seen…it is a family trait."

"I could not protect Glosvana that day," he said, bowing his head again, his eyes once more settling on her hands surrounding his. "She had always been so stubborn, and we had…argued so fiercely that morning. She journeyed out on her own as I had told her not to do a million times. This forest…is not always safe. I hate it when Tauriel does it as well. Once she had Legolas to go with her but now…" he shook his head. "And Glosvana would simply go on her own. She loved the woods so much; she was determined to see them the way they once had been, not what they had come to be as the shadow began to grow some time after the Last Alliance. Then she was gone and no one could find her…and then we tracked the orcs and the rest, well…you know now."

"Thank you," she whispered and he raised his head again.

"Thank you? For what?" he said, confused. "What have you to thank me for? It is I who should be thanking you, my dear."

"For sharing the tale…for not turning me away."

"I did turn you away," he admitted, "and I would have done so even more fiercely had you not disarmed me quite so well." His eyes softened. "I needed this. Ilúvatar knows, I needed this. You have a way of refocusing my attention from the disaster that was my life to focusing on what actually matters. And, I find, that I am…relieved to have shared something so…personal." He lifted one of her hands and pressed his lips to it. "I am relieved to have shared it with you. And I am glad that in spite of Tauriel's warning, you came out here to find me anyway."

Erumar gave him a look of surprise. "How do you know I was speaking to Tauriel?"

He tilted his head. "You are often in one another's confidence. But I should assume she would find you. I said…many things I never would have said had my heart and mind been in a different place."

"She will forgive you. She probably already has."

He suddenly laughed. "Oh, undoubtedly. She always does, which is far more than I deserve, and she refuses to allow me the opportunity to apologize, which makes things far too easy on me."

"She also did not tell me to avoid you," she pointed out. "In fact, she encouraged me to find you."

He nodded, not necessarily surprised that Tauriel would say such a thing, but it appeared he felt relief. This time, he enclosed her hands in his. "Just one more moment to be grateful for, I suppose." He gave a long sigh and looked into her face again, attempting to smile. "Normally, I would spend this day sulking in the garden, taking my wrath out on everyone and everything who happened to cross my path. As I planned to be in misery for the majority of the day today, and as I am not in the most despicable of moods any longer, I have no idea what I shall do with myself."

Erumar gave him a rueful smile. "You mean to tell me the ogre I met this morning will not return later in the day?"

He did smile then. "If he is distracted, perhaps he will not return at all. The memories may return, but perhaps the misery shall hold off."

"I can help with the misery," she replied gently. "And provide ample distraction."

"Good. Where shall we begin?"

"Well, the sun is high now, and the hummingbirds might be out near the petunias, verbena, or even in the marigold," she said, slipping her feet to the ground as she rose, tugging him gently up. "Perhaps we can begin there, and then make our way over to that section that needed desperately to be weeded—"

"I must admit that I am fairly certain I tore most of them out this morning," he sighed, allowing her to tug him into the motion of walking. "Along with many flowers." She raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed again, helplessly. "I was not in my best mood."

"Perhaps we can spend some time replanting some of those pulled-up flowers, then," she said, squeezing his hand. "Do not worry, Thranduil. We will set it right."

He moved alongside her so he could draw her hand through his arm, leaving his covering hers. "There is no doubt in my mind that you can help me do so."

Tauriel sat quietly in the sitting room of her humble quarters, debating whether to take a walk or to simply go to bed in the other room. It had not been the brightest of days, but it certainly did not count among the worst. She had spent nearly all of it out on patrol, mostly to take her mind off the day…and what Thranduil and Erumar were saying to one another. She had worried for no reason, apparently, for she had caught a glimpse of them at dinner tonight and Thranduil had been laughing. First, he would not have been laughing with anyone on a day such as today, and he would never have wanted to be social enough to eat in the main hall at supper. She should not have worried.

Tauriel was startled out of her reverie by the door opening and the one she had been thinking of filling the frame. She stood, surprise on her features as both she and Thranduil bowed their heads to one another.

"My Lord," she said, and she could not control her voice enough to keep the alarm out of it. The only reason he would come here is if something serious had happened.

"I knocked," he said, opening a hand toward the door and then closing it. "I mean no offense if you feel I am barging in."

"I…must not have heard it," she said, looking confused. "I was thinking and…I must have been distracted."

"With your ears?" he asked with good humor. "Shocking."

"I know," she answered honestly, looking down as if ashamed. "Is there something I can—?"

"I shall be brief so as to not distract you for long," he replied. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I came to apologize for my appalling rudeness toward you this morning. No matter what I was feeling, I should never have taken it out on you that way, with such words."

"It is all right," she said softly, holding up a hand. "There is no need to apologize. I should have known; I should have remembered that—"

"No," he said firmly, "you will not make excuses for me, not for this. My words are entirely my own. I should not have said…" He hesitated, unsure he wanted to speak the words aloud again.

"My Lord," she began to interrupt, but he once again cut her off, holding up his hand.

"I never should have said that you were worthless, and that I did not need you and never would. I certainly should never have spoken such a thing. I also—"

"You did not say that," she whispered.

"The interpretation is close enough to what I spoke this morning," he stated. "I was angry and miserable, but that is no excuse. I should not have told you that you were meddlesome and interfering and only seeking to harm me more by attempting to force me to talk about what had happened. That was wrong of me. If anything was happening, it was that you were trying to take care of me, as you have always done."

"It…" she stuttered, hesitating. "It was nothing—"

"Do not say that it was nothing," he said sternly. "Ilúvatar knows that after all these years, after everything that we have been through, we should be honest with one another. I hurt you terribly by what I said." He watched her eyes flood with tears, but she did not look away. This was Tauriel; she would never back down, never hide. That was not who she was. "And what I said was wrong," he added, his voice kinder, "not only because it was inaccurate, but also because it was an outright lie. I do need you, Tauriel. My horrible temper notwithstanding, there are a great many reasons for you to decide you have had enough. You never have; you have chosen to remain here instead. You are not worthless, nor are you a prying meddler. You have great worth, and I would be remiss if I did not say that I am blessed to have you still in my life after everything that has happened between us." He gave a great sigh. "Can you please forgive my terrible words to you?"

She nodded, because she simply could not speak; she knew if she opened her mouth now the tears would fall and she did not know when they would stop. These moments were few and far between, but when they came they threatened to consume her.

And then he opened his arms to her and it was all over. Completely unexpected, she was overwhelmed in seconds, and it only took her that long to get to her feet and slip into his embrace. He enveloped her with warmth and held her close, setting his chin against her hair as the tears fell that she could not stop. He held her for many long minutes before he spoke.

"I am so sorry," he repeated gently.

"Sometimes I feel that way," she whispered through her tears. "Just what you said…that I am—"

"I know," he interrupted her, feeling horrible even though he had been forgiven and having no desire to hear the words he had used again. "I used those feelings against you to force you to go away. It was so wrong of me, Tauriel. I…promise that in the future I will watch my tongue."

He realized, holding her in that moment, this was only the fourth time in all of the years they had known one another that he had held her this way. He was not the sort of person that she had ever run to as he was never very open and had never wanted her to run to him; one might even say he seemed quite unfeeling. They would be wrong, of course, but he was not one to wear his emotions and in the past would have been quite unable to share anything. In more recent years, he had begun to change, and this had opened a realm of possibility. He had come to learn more about Tauriel in the last sixty years than he had known about her in the few hundred since she had come to be here.

Tauriel raised her head and began to step back out of his embrace, lifting a hand to wipe her face and stifling her tears. "Forgive me for this…for this scene," she muttered, trying to laugh at herself. "I do not know what came over me."

"My anger," he said, "and there is nothing to forgive."

"Thank you for…apologizing," she said, meeting his eyes. "You did not need to come here and do that, and I…appreciate it. Your honesty."

He smiled. "I should have learned years ago that one should seek forgiveness for badly-spoken words. Thank you for forgiving me." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "You deserve better than the monster I can be at times. I will continue to work hard to improve."

"My Lord…"

"I am serious," he stated. "And you should hold me to it. I hope you will say that you will." She swallowed, wiped an eye once more, and nodded. "Good. Now I will allow you to return to your daydreaming or thinking or…whatever it was you were doing before I interrupted you." He released her and made it to the door before turning around.

"Oh," he added with a smile, "I almost forgot: Erumar asked me if I would invite you with her tomorrow. She was thinking of taking a ride East through the Greenwood. I cannot attend, but she said you would be most welcome if you are available."

Tauriel returned his smile with a little one of her own. "Am I available, my Lord?"

He appeared to give it some thought. "It would appear that you are, Captain. Find something useful to do with your time, will you? There is an elf that I would like you to keep an eye on for me, and I would very much prefer her to ride with company."

She bowed her head. "I happily will. Would you please tell Erumar that I would be glad to come? I will meet her at the stables then after breakfast if morning is fine."

"I will let her know. Sleep well, Tauriel."

"Good evening, my Lord."