Soft, fine particles of wood decorated the table around Seren as she worked a fine grit stone along the grain of wood to sand a tile. Dozens of little squares bearing a single elvish letter littered her desk in the library and she crossed out another letter on her list as she finally set down its final piece. She had just a few letters left. After this, she would have the letters burned so they stood out on the beech squares. During her work in the fields, she'd come across a few felled branches from the nearby trees and some of the wood was in a condition fit to use.

She smiled as she remembered the strange look the carpenters had given her when she explained that she wanted little squares made so she could etch them with the alphabet. Once the pieces started to come together, they grew excited to see what Legolas would think of his gift and pursued the task with so much eagerness that their usual daily duties seemed to have become their secondary concern. Getting their help in finding wood large enough and suitable enough for a playing board had been easy after that. Resisting their efforts to weasel an explanation of what the gift was out of her was less so.

"You seem pleased with yourself," Varis said as she walked in and saw Seren's grin.

"I was just recalling a fond memory – one that doesn't hurt."

She was referring to her troubles sleeping once she began teaching Caireann Bruce Lee's forms. If she wasn't waking in a frightened cold sweat, she was crying herself to sleep as memories of Tal refused to cease their incessant appearances.

Varis, having slipped into Seren's circle of friends alongside Ceridwen, Nuineri , Caireann and Nuinethir, didn't need to have the remark explained and she came over to the human and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"One day, the memories will bring you joy again."

Seren patted her hand and straightened in her chair. Varis bent over her shoulder and studied the playing board. She picked up a letter tray and set it before her, grabbing tiles and laying them in the track.

"Are you going to show me how this game is played?"

A grin spread over Seren's features as she placed a few pieces on the board that spelled "hama sinome".

"'Have a seat'… you can use phrases in this game?" Varis did as the tiles commanded and started rummaging for more pieces.

Seren put a hand on hers to stop her from mixing the sanded and rough piles. "Usually less common phrases would be used, though any real word will do. Even simple words like 'the' can be used; however it's considered bad form."

Varis nodded began picking out letters from the sanded pile and Seren again had to stop her. She held a little green satin pouch aloft.

"You're supposed to pick them at random and unseen." She set the bag down and went back to sanding the next tile while Varis put finished the tiles away.

"So this is a game from Earth but you're making it in our language?"

Seren nodded. "Tal and I played all the time and when Legolas arrived, we taught him to play. My brother accused me of helping him too much when he won. I did assist him in understanding the rules of our written language but he came up with his own words. Taliesin never did accept that maybe Legolas's outside perspective gave him an eye for words we wouldn't have thought to use."

Seren shook her head. "I think Legolas was more affronted than I was. He refused to let me help him at all after that."

Varis chuckled. "Did he win any more games?"

"Of course." Seren joined Varis in laughing loudly.

When their mirth tapered off, Varis poked a tile around the table. "I'm not close enough to the prince to know such things..."

"I'm sure your gift is splendid," Seren said slyly.

Varis looked to her and pointed accusingly. "I'm not telling you what it is!"

"Aww, come on! You know what mine is."

"Only because you told me in order to get my help! I didn't ask," Varis shot back.

If Seren was pouting, she refused to admit it. She crossed off another letter. "Speaking of your help…"

Varis raised an eyebrow.

"I need a book of rules written in elvish but since I don't know it well enough yet…"

"You need me to transcribe the rules from you?"

Seren grinned.

Varis sighed and smiled. "Afterward, you will show me how to play this?"

"You have my word."

Varis went back to packing the tiles into their pouch and Seren continued sanding the wood in her hands. After a few moments, a strange feeling of being watched came over her and she looked up from her task but the library was deserted save for her and Varis. She returned her attention to the tiles and began telling Varis what the rules of the game were. The instructor wrote down some rough notes and asked questions for clarity and soon they had a satisfactory set of rules for the game written in elvish, though Varis insisted the final product would be meticulously printed on fine parchment.

When Seren finally set the last letter tile inside the satin pouch, she stood and stretched. The hour was late; she could feel it in her protesting muscles and Varis sent her off with a promise to play a game in the morning. They packed her project away and Seren began her long walk to her chambers but when she saw the landscape outside, she stopped.

The moon was nearly full and high in a clear cobalt sky. Stars glittered everywhere in its expanse, reflecting the prismatic twinkles from the new snow that had fallen like a blanket over the ground. It was a thin covering but it was just enough to hide the terrain under a layer of soft white.

A crisp breeze gently caressed her cheek and she inhaled deeply, catching a faint scent of pine. A smile broke over her features and she doubled back to a set of stairs that led directly down and outside. She strode far out into the center of the gardens and didn't stop until she had come to the little bridge that arched over a small stream. It still babbled over the rocks but ice was forming along the banks.

When she reached the apex of the bridge, she stopped and stared up at the stars and let herself just feel small and enormous at the same time. The sky seemed to turn ever so slowly above her and she looked to the moon, its soft glow bringing everything to life. The chilly air made her skin prickle but it felt invigorating rather than biting. She breathed deep, savoring the sharp cold on her tongue and giggled.

The stars twinkled back at her. One in particular seemed to glow brighter the longer she stared at it and she let its light fill her vision. She didn't particularly know why but she smiled up at it and then closed her eyes, listening and letting the peace of the night fill her soul.

The softest footsteps reached her ears and she studied their pattern. The telltale swish of fabric gently skimming the ground gave her visitor away and she smiled.

"Hello, king Thranduil," she said and lowered her head, opening her eyes to the direction from which he approached. He looked every inch the winter king in a royal blue velvet tunic that swept the ground. The silver trim detailed the layers that crossed his torso in an overlapping 'V' pattern that opened into a similar formation at the neck and his pale hair was unadorned, flowing as he walked. The flop in her stomach was familiar now, though no less disconcerting. She gave no sign of it however and simply watched him as he paused in his step with a blink.

From a dozen paces away, he could see her every feature in the nearly full moon. Her ivory skin shone under the luminance in the sky, contrasted with shadows cast by the fine structures of her face. Her hair was left loose under a circlet of hair plaited around her head and it fell dark over the pale heather grey dress she wore. He noted that the sleeves were a loose and thin fabric gathered at the shoulders, her arms puckering from the temperature of the air.

"Does the cold not bother you?"

He resumed his steps and stopped just before the little bridge. She stood quite taller than him from this position but she came forward until they were eye to eye.

"In time it will be uncomfortable enough and I will go inside," she said as she walked. "But for the moment, it feels…"

He watched as she gazed around her, her eyes wide with wonder.

"I can't explain it; I have always loved winter – the first snow in particular." She stepped from the bridge and they began a leisurely stroll over the white landscape.

Thranduil hummed in agreement. "Arda has many breathtaking sights. It's a pity you have yet to see them."

"I will, someday." She smiled to herself. "For better or worse, I'm here in Middle Earth to stay." It still stiffened the air in her lungs to confront that reality but it was getting easier.

Thranduil looked past his right shoulder toward her but she was studying the terrain ahead so he returned his own attention forward. "Will the Greenwood always be your home, here?"

Seren's eyes darted toward him but she didn't turn her head or slow her steps. "I do miss my home on Earth and at times this feels like a dream I'll soon wake from, but I couldn't return to that life even if I were able. If I were to travel other lands here, no matter the distance or the time spent away; I would always come back. My brother is buried here and I have friends among your kin now, Legolas being first among them. Every day it grows more difficult to imagine leaving for good."

Her words eased his mind somewhat and Thranduil allowed himself a small smirk. Seren was now certainly more than a rumor to many. He'd heard talk among his guard and advisors of the human. Tales she had shared or things about her realm they'd heard of and her knack with the gardens were topics of many conversations. Most spoke fondly, though there were a couple of his kin who resented that a human dwelled within their halls. They were mostly ignored by everyone else, however.

Legolas's high regard for her helped considerably with that, he knew. Many looked to the prince for deciding how to judge a character but once they spent time around Seren, they decided their own minds to generally favorable review. Seren had made herself useful and committed only the most minor infractions against their customs here and they weren't repeated once she knew of them. Thus far, inviting the human to stay had been a surprisingly pleasant decision.

"On the subject of my son," Thranduil started. "There is to be a celebration for his Day of Beginning."

Seren smiled. "I know. Nuineri told me."

The king shook his head once. Of course… "It is customary to bring a gift for the one being celebrated."

"I know that too," Seren replied.

"That is good. Though you have been here little more than a month, it would be understood if you did not –"

"I do have a gift for him, my lord."

"That is good," he said again and wondered how best to phrase his next statement.

She turned her full attention to Thranduil, studying him and a smug grin slowly spread over her features. "It was you…"

He stopped. "What?"

Seren laughed a little. "You were spying on Varis and I in the library while we worked on Legolas's gift!"

His eyes went round for a moment but he managed a façade of calm and clasped his hands together. "I did pass the library to see if you had a moment to speak but it wasn't of urgency so I decided to wait until you were no longer preoccupied."

Her eyes narrowed at him and her grin didn't entirely fade. "Right…"

He looked beyond her shoulder and she took pity on him. "So what was it you wished to speak with me about?"

Thranduil blinked, not expecting the abrupt change and slightly disappointed that she hadn't offered an answer about her project in the library. He'd seen it but only from a distance and he hadn't a clue what it was. It would be a lie to say he wasn't curious about it. He shook the thought away and brought his mind back to what he'd learned from the scrolls.

"I have a theory about your nature and what occurred the night you died."

He started walking again and Seren strode beside him. "I'll begin with this:" he intoned with an important air. "You are not fully human."

Seren laughed nervously. Somehow she wasn't surprised but she hadn't been prepared for how absurd it sounded. "Forgive me, Thranduil, but I'm rather certain I am."

The elvenking frowned, though not because of her use of his name. For the first time, he failed to notice the absence of his title.

"I only ask that you listen. Whether or not you believe is for you to struggle with but the fact remains that, despite your appearance, you cannot be wholly of the race of men and command magic such as what you have displayed."

Seren stared at the ground, shaking her head but she pushed her denial and doubts aside and took a deep breath. "Alright, I'm listening."

Thranduil studied her for a moment, wondering if he was being patronized but she seemed sincere. "During the days that the Two Trees lived, there was an order of elves that protected them, the Guardians of the Trees."

"Me? Why would he want me to help with the shipments?"

Legolas smiled as he watched Seren pile weeds she'd pulled from an old crop bed into a heap. He gazed out over the expanse of newly freed earth. There was enough to begin a new crop but she refused to allow that until she'd cleared all of the weeds. Ironically, allowing the dandelions to overtake the bed had defeated the fungus that had ruined the crops last year. Now it could be used again, once Seren approved of it.

"Perhaps it is because you have a knack with plants? The crops we lost were started with seedlings bought from the eastern settlements of men. Esgaroth was their final waypoint before we took them. He wants all new shipments inspected with your particular talent before delivery is accepted."

Seren shook her head and plopped a wet bundle of weeds upon a mound that stood three feet high and stared back at the hole they left. The snow from last night had melted and left the ground soft and muddy. Even so, the weeds were stubborn and didn't come up without considerable effort and there was mud splattering her shift. Her shoes were entirely the color of wet earth. It still amazed her that there were edible crops the elves could grow through winter and they were clearing land for the hardy, tuber. She removed her gloves and wiped the back of her wrist across her brow to push back a lock of loose hair and huffed.

"The king suspects the crops were fouled deliberately," she said.

Legolas blinked. "Yes. That is a possibility he wants to investigate." In truth, he believed his father wanted to test practical applications of Seren's abilities as well as put this suspicion to rest but he hadn't shared this for concern that she would refuse. Where her talent was concerned, Seren didn't take kindly to the assumption that she would do whatever anyone wanted whenever they wanted it.

Other elves had come over and bundled the weeds in old burlap and Seren helped them heave the large lump onto a rack to be taken away to a fire for destruction. Once done, she turned back to Legolas.

"Why do you purchase any of your crops from anyone? The land here is expansive enough to grow everything you need."

"You know we have trouble starting seeds in our soil," Legolas retorted, perplexed she would ask such a thing.

She nodded and started walking toward the mountain in which the kingdom sat. "I do. But why is the soil so difficult to start seeds in?"

"The forest beyond is very sick. It is only a matter of time before that sickness overtakes all our land."

Seren sighed. "And there's nothing to be done? According to what Varis teaches, there are other places that Sauron cannot invade in such a way – Lothlorien comes to mind."

Legolas pursed his lips bitterly and regarded the ground as he walked. "Lothlorien is the home, of Galadriel. She is among the oldest and most powerful of our kind and she possesses a Ring Of Power. She is understandably wary of allowing its use to anyone. As powerful as the treasury my father hoards is, it pales in comparison to the might of the other elven lords. The Greenwood is strategically located for Sauron and is also the least defended. We keep him at bay by fighting back the minions he sends to spread their sickness. But there is only so much that can do."

Seren made an expression of allowance for that. "Arrows are hardly much good against magic and poison."

They fell silent for a time and when Legolas spoke again, he changed the topic.

"You will be at the celebration won't you? It's only a few days off."

"I wouldn't miss it." She returned the grin when he smiled.

"I've heard you're making something in the library, that you're busy well into the night. Father says it's for me." He smirked as she stopped, a look of incredulity on her features.

"He was spying for you! Oh! That traitor!"

Legolas bounced on his heels. "But he won't tell me what it is! He said it wasn't his place and that I would see it at the right time."

"Good!" she said, pointing a finger at him, "Shame on you for sending him to spy for you!"

Legolas ducked his head. "I didn't send him… exactly. I implied I wanted to know when he told me he needed to speak with you. If he asked, he did so of his own will."

Seren scowled at him good naturedly. "Well in a few days, you will know."

She shook her head in mock disapproval, her mind working furiously over this information. Legolas believed his father knew what his gift was but she knew she hadn't told him. She wondered if Thranduil had gone to Varis and procured an answer that way. Varis had utter respect for the king, of the sort that their confidentiality made in friendship wouldn't hold against the king personally making a query. She would have to ask him about that.

The mountain loomed before them, and they stepped into its shadow. "For centuries I wouldn't celebrate this day," Legolas said suddenly. He glanced at her, a nervous huff escaping him. "My kin would ask every year and every year, I resisted. It didn't seem right to honor it without my mother. After the defeat of Smaug and the battle of five armies that followed, it didn't feel right to deny them a chance to celebrate something. The anniversary of such terrible loss is a heavy burden on everyone. We've celebrated every year since." He smiled suddenly. "I'm glad you're here in time for the good things."

Seren smiled too but her curiosity made her ask, "When was the defeat of Smaug?"

"It was five years to the day, six weeks and… two days ago. We were still on Earth then. It was the day we had gone into your town."

It was also the day her cabin had been destroyed. A long breath escaped her. "No wonder everyone was so gloomy when I first arrived," she said, thinking of Nuineri. She recalled the conversation she'd had with Thranduil the night before and glanced at the prince surreptitiously.

"Legolas… the king did speak with me last night. He had a rather… interesting theory to share. Do you know of it?"

Legolas made a face and stopped, turning toward her. "I do. I was there when he found the scroll that offered a crucial piece of his assertions."

Seren swallowed. "And you don't disagree?"

His gaze was solemn and focused. "It fits, Seren. It's the only explanation that accounts for everything we know and everything we've seen."

She scoffed. "Except that it's just not possible."

Legolas's glanced around and spoke low. "If Mandos was involved, anything is possible."

Her eyes were wide, a slight panic edging her voice. "So I'm supposed to accept that my soul isn't my own? That I've been half human since I was six? Humans can't just switch souls!"

"For elves, it is called the fea and yes, that is exactly what you have to accept. Souls aren't the entirety of what makes a human. The part of you that cherishes your identity is the mind. The body and mind are tools for the soul to use and learn about the world because it comes blank and formless. It takes the knowledge it gains with it to wherever it goes upon death. Human souls don't linger. You died. Your soul couldn't have remained –"

"That's what you believe!" She hissed.

"Furthermore, Mandos is an elvish deity," Legolas continued, undaunted.

"He wouldn't interfere with human affairs, never mind one from another realm. Souls of Middle Earth pass through his halls as a means to leave Arda and slip into the ether but they aren't under his purview so he can do nothing to them. He could only have been involved in your return to life if you were at least part elven. We know he was involved because of your own rendition of him – Seren… you cannot be entirely human. It's just not possible."

Seren swallowed thickly, her eyes shone like glass with unshed tears. "How can Mandos have done anything to anyone in another realm?"

"I don't know. Perhaps there are no divine beings that govern Earth and humans are an accident that perpetuates itself. Your world has no magic – maybe that is why. You said the night you died there was a star – one not seen before or since – and that you had to listen… It could be that was when Mandos asked you accept the gift he offered, a gift he could only give to someone who was no longer meant to live, whose fate was done."

"'No longer meant to live'…?" Seren turned away, unable to let anyone see the horror on her face.

"Humans are meant to live for a finite amount of time," Legolas replied solemnly. "Sometime it is a century or two and sometimes it is a handful of years. Without gods to negotiate with, Mandos may have only needed to ask you to accept the fea he was trying to save. It probably wasn't possible otherwise."

Seren thought back to that night under the stars and how she had thought one of them to be alive. She had fallen asleep listening to it. Her parents had said that was the moment of her death. "I don't recall anything of what was said the night that star appeared but I know I listened to it. I died. And then I woke up."

Legolas smiled tentatively. "You were somehow cured of a disease that you had no hope of surviving, had mysterious dreams you couldn't explain and now you have shown magic here. Of course, you may search for your own answers and if you devise a different hypothesis, I would hear it; but until then… My father's is the only explanation that fits."

Seren closed her eyes and huffed softly before opening them again, an uncertain smirk graced her features. "How can I accept that I am not what I have believed I am all my life? Could you accept being told you weren't an elf?"

"Probably not," Legolas laughed. "It would certainly take me some time."

They started walking again and Seren chased after a thought. She practically jumped when she finally pinned it down. "Oh! Tell your father I want my sketchbook returned. I'm grateful he saved it from being discarded but it is mine. He's kept it long enough."

Legolas saluted. "Yes ma'am."

They had finally reached the cellar doors to the mountain and she bid farewell to Legolas as they went their separate ways. She was looking forward to the bath she was planning but was stopped by an elf who pointed at her feet and made a face.

"Oh right." She bent to remove her caked footwear. The elf came over and took them from her grasp and tugged at the ties on Seren's shift until it too came off. "I can wash them myself!" She called after the retreating back. A Sindarin phrase she didn't understand but, thanks to Varis, that she knew to mean "It's my duty," came back to her.

Seren sighed and regarded her wool clad feet, fitted trousers and shirt, glad she hadn't worn a dress or she'd be dressed in little more than a white linen slip. The laundresses had staff they sent to stalk the doors after a rain or snow and removed the most soiled garments from people as they came in rather than wait for them to be brought to the laundry. The whole affair of having someone else wash her clothes was still strange to Seren.

Of course there was no central plumbing, save for the hot water one could call through a spout from cisterns that stood in the sun all day. However, it was a simple contraption that utilized gravity and natural filtration for clean water. True indoor plumbing didn't exist and large vats of heated water were kept on the cellar level for laundry. The staff didn't take kindly to being brought caked on stains, nor did they allow anyone but their own to use the facilities. So she had learned to get used to it, but it was still odd.

There were voices echoing dimly in the main chamber where the king's throne sat when she approached and she glanced that way when she stepped out onto a series of walkways that would take her across the cavern. The stone was clammy and moist under her feet, soaking the socks she wore and making traction almost nonexistent. She had to tread slowly and could hear the proceedings from the king's dais. He was standing before a group of bedraggled humans. They were kneeling and several guards had pointed arrows at them. Even from the great distance between platforms, Seren could see Thranduil's scowl.

"Please, my lord!" One of them begged. "We only wanted a little food."

"And you thought to steal it from my people?"

Try as she might to ignore the scene, Seren stopped just before she reached the stairs. The cold of Thranduil's tone kept her from saying anything however.

"The Master made no plans for those Smaug crippled. We've had to scrounge the scraps from our people just to survive!"

Seren swallowed and found herself drifting closer to the edge of the chasm, listening intently.

"The Master's negligence against the derelicts of his city is not my concern. You will be locked in the dungeons until he negotiates your release."

"But he will never come!" One of the men wailed.

"We'll die of old age!" said another.

"That is my decision," Thranduil said. He gestured and the guards pulled the captives to their feet and prodded them to leave down the spiral stairs at the back of the dais, toward the dungeons.

Seren drew a breath and hurried to the stairs, slipping within and making her way hastily upward. Part of her wanted to go back and ask Thranduil why he was being a bastard but another knew full well it wasn't her place and that things in Middle Earth were far different than they were on Earth. She slowed as she reached the top of the fourth set of stairs. Perhaps too different… she thought as she stopped to remove the wet socks, finding the stone preferable.

Seren's presence registered on the periphery of Thranduil's mind but when he had the luxury of looking that way, she was gone. He gazed up at the path that led from the stairs and spotted her walking past the arched openings in the stone. Her feet were bare and the deep brown clothes were the fitted attire she usually wore under a shift. She seemed to be in a hurry to return to her chambers so he decided he wouldn't call for her attention at the moment and instead crossed the stone walkway to the stairs, following after her.

When he neared the door to her chambers, he realized it stood wide open and a strange scent wafted into the hall. His eyes widened when he recognized the smell and he held his breath. He hurried to the threshold and stopped at the sight of dozens of bulbous purple cluster flowers on stalks with rough edged dark green leaves standing in vases arranged around the room. Still not daring to breathe, he took the steps of Seren's foyer two at a time and found her unconscious and face down on the floor.

As he passed, he had to dart sideways as the stalks filling a vase started ejecting spores at him. Fine grey pollen swirled in the air behind him. He bent to a knee and shook Seren but there was no response. When he rolled her over, she hitched a ragged shallow breath. Her color was beginning to pale and her chest barely moved. Around him, the flowers were continuing to explode and the need to breathe was beginning to tighten his chest.

He looked Seren over. She was covered in the grey dust of the plants. Removing the robe he wore, he wrapped it over her and scooped her from the stone, surprised at her weight; though it wasn't a burden. Once out in the hall he gasped for breath, hoping the spores on Seren's face wouldn't find their way into his lungs and leaned against the wall for a moment just breathing again.

A rattle came from the human and he looked, jostling her. "You must wake."

But Seren only wheezed weakly with the effort to breathe and he could feel her heart hammering like hummingbird wings through her torso where his arms wrapped around her. Thranduil straightened and all but ran down the hall. As soon as he neared another elf, he called out.

"Go get Ceridwen! Now!"

The elf blinked and took a moment to comprehend the sight of the king striding down the hall with Seren in his arms before taking off at a run.

Thranduil continued his brisk pace all the while telling Seren she had to wake up and shaking her occasionally. He took a series of paths that led over his throne and past the library. He rounded a corner and almost knocked over a mask wearing Ceridwen as she appeared.

Immediately she began to fuss over Seren. "She's covered!" A wet cloth was produced as they walked and the healer wiped the spores from her patient's face. She scampered to keep pace with Thranduil as he continued his trek to the infirmary. A different wet cloth appeared and it smelled of herbs. Ceridwen held it over Seren's nose and mouth and gave her neck a vicious pinch.

Thranduil felt her stiffen in his arms and she instinctively inhaled to cry out and the cloth was pressed firmly down, making her breathe in the poultice.

"Hold her," Ceridwen warned.

Seren folded almost in half, coughing violently and Thranduil tipped her back against him so she didn't spill from his grasp and to the floor. Worry creased his brow as she convulsed.

"Will she be alright?"

"She will likely be fine but I'm not promising that yet." She lifted the robe a few inches and immediately tucked it back down again. "Where did the Lothrim come from?"

The great whooping sound of Seren's cough had brought many running who stood watching as the healer led the king to her workspace. Finally they made it to the hospital wing and Thranduil was pointed to the back and set his burden on the last bed, watching her. The color had started to return to Seren's face and she breathed a little better than when he found her.

He thought of the many vases of the spore carrying flower and scowled. "Lothrim is deadly in high enough doses…"

Ceridwen scoffed as she bustled about the room. "Most use it for sedative purposes, but in high concentrations, it can stop the heart or, as in Seren's case, prevent the lungs from taking in enough air."

Anger began to burn in the king's chest. "Someone managed to smuggle large quantities of Lothrim into my kingdom… And they placed it in Seren's room."

The healer stopped, eyes rounding into saucers. "Who would want to do such a thing?"

"Father!" Legolas rushed into the room, looking at Seren and then at Ceridwen. "What happened?"

"She was poisoned with Lothrim," the healer said.

Legolas blinked. "How? Why?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Thranduil answered ominously.

Legolas looked to him but before he could ask more questions, Seren began another round of hacking coughs. They turned to see the healer pulling another cloth from her face and the human half rose with the force of her torso's contractions as her lungs expelled the noxious substances in them.

"Will you stop that?" she croaked at the elf, finally awake, and then gasped as more coughs racked her. Her back was to Legolas and the king and they shared a smirk at the human's attitude.

"I'm sorry but this is noxious enough to force out the spores you've inhaled but the Athelas makes it so it does more good than harm." Ceridwen said and rubbed Seren's back as she tried to breathe deep through the next series of coughs, managing to keep them down to minor brays.

The next breath she drew was shaky. "Oh-h-h-h…. whoever that fool was, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

"What fool?" Legolas said, striding to stand in front of her.

She startled at his sudden presence. "There was a note, I don't remember the name. Some human dignitary asked me to attend some occasion or another."

"What occasion?" Thranduil strode to her left and stood next to Legolas and again she jumped a little.

She stared at him crossly. "Could you announce your presence before sneaking up on me?"

Both elves raised their dark brows at her and Thranduil tilted his head. "I brought you here."

"Oh." Seren gaze fell to her lap and she noticed the gold shimmering fabric over her. "Well thank you… king Thranduil…" There was such an emphasis on the title that he furrowed his brow in confusion. "You can have this back…" She started to tug on the robe and all three elves around her panicked, eyes wide and hands raised.

Ceridwen managed to grasp the robe's hems from behind and pulled it snug again. "You can't remove that until we're ready. You're covered in spores. The sooner we get them off of you, the better but none of us want to breathe them in either."

Seren sighed and regarded the cloth masks the healer was soaking in some fragrant liquid. One of Ceridwen's helpers arrived with a silk sack and Seren's face paled.

"You two," she pointed back and forth between Thranduil and Legolas. "Out."

Their eyes widened.

"We need to discuss –" Thranduil began.

"After I'm decent again; I'm about to literally lose my shirt, so out with you."

Ceridwen smiled under her mask and turned around but Legolas still managed to see the crinkles at the corners of her eyes and laughed. He strode out first, snickering silently. Thranduil followed a moment later and glared at him.

Once the door was closed, Ceridwen handed a mask to Seren and gave the last one to her assistant. Then the king's robe was gently taken from her and gingerly balled up and placed in the sack. The healer helped Seren with the hooks that kept her tunic closed and when she stood, the trousers were gently tugged from her legs. An incredible itchy feeling began to dance all over her skin and when Seren looked, it was red and welted all over. Her small clothes were also removed as spores and managed to weasel into the fibers and the healer began passing a cloth with yet another salve on it over the angered skin.

The assistant carefully gathered everything and placed them into the silk sack and tied it closed, leaving the room.

When the door opened, Thranduil was standing in the hall mindlessly staring at its intricate hinges while his thoughts tumbled over who would want to hurt Seren and why. The releasing catch startled him and his gaze slipped through the gap between the door and its frame. His eyes went round and he hurried to turn away, surprise on his features. The assistant appeared with a sack bearing the spore infested clothes and looked to him.

"Destroy them," he told the woman, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears.

Legolas frowned at him. "Father?"

"I want no chance of any of those spores affecting anyone else," he said, more to even out his tone than anything else.

Legolas nodded in understanding and resumed his slow pacing as the woman left them. Thranduil leaned against the wall, letting the cool stone center him as he worked to banish the image of Seren from his mind. He doubted he would forget the display of her nude profile, skin awash in colored sunlight from the stained glass window as she was cleansed of the spores but he could bury it.

He closed his eyes and pointed his mind in a more productive direction, telling himself that he didn't need the distraction and that it was a mindless folly. The reaction that had surprised him so was merely because the sight of her was unexpected. He had previously objectively admitted that, for a human, Seren was one of the most comely he'd ever seen. The detachment of that earlier observation had deserted him now and he chided himself for being affected by something merely physical. So he repeated to himself that she was just a human and it was silly to let himself be distracted by her until he believed it again, in all but the deepest corners of his mind.

She is not just a human however…

The thought jarred him and he opened his eyes, finding Legolas watching him. He refused to think of that beyond what it meant for her abilities. Whatever powers she had and whatever fea she harbored, she was human in form and therefore still finite. It wasn't worth his consideration.