When the Elvenking wants to speak with you privately, you never know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. For Linwe, it turned out to be a neutral thing.

"Elrond has never liked me," Thranduil began. "I know. Nor do Galadriel nor Celeborn. So tell me, why did your father send you here? Why would he want his child...exposed to my poor influence?"

They were seated in a comfortable room with torches on the wall and a warm glow suffusing them. The Elvenking was in a big chair far away from the torches, while the princess was on a chaise lounge, not as comfortable as she looked.

"My father is too busy with my elder siblings to care much for what happens to me. He claimed he had a vision about me and sent me here, for the future of Imladris, he claimed. I do not know if he was telling the truth, or if he merely wanted to punish you by making you deal with me for a few centuries."

"The Elven code says you must honor your kin," Thranduil said. "You do not seem to be honoring your father in your heart."

"When he honors me, I shall honor him," was her reply. "Why did you agree to have me here when you could have easily refused?"

"Politics. I would not like to make the other Eldar leaders even angrier with me than they usually are," he replied. "What is one more Elfling in these vast halls?"

"If you think I'm just another Elfling, my lord, you will find yourself mistaken," she said.

Thranduil arched one of those impossibly magnificent brows and stood, going to a table and pouring two glasses of wine. He handed one to the princess and held his glass up in a mock toast. "Welcome to the Woodland Realm, my lady."

"When can I begin my patrols?" she asked suddenly. Thranduil was a little shocked at her voice, as he had been too intent on staring at her lips as she sipped her wine.

"Pardon me?"

Linwe gave a sigh. "My patrols. You allow your only son and heir to be a member of the guard. I should think I would be given a similar position."

"Can you handle weapons, Linwe?" he wondered.

"I am an Elf. Just because my father did not allow me to practice does not meant that I didn't. Let me fight for you, my lord. Allow me to prove myself in a way that my father wouldn't." It wasn't a plea. Thranduil was fairly certain that she had never begged for anything in her life. That was a command to him from an equal. Despite her young age (barely two thousand years old) she did not bow to his whim or melt under his scrutinizing stare as others did. He admired her.

But he was the Elvenking. He could not give so easily in to her demands. "Eventually. I take pride in my army being the best in all of Middle Earth. I will have Tauriel train you, give you weapons and prepare you. I cannot go by your word alone that you are a worthy fighter."

"I suppose that's fair enough."

"Lindir said that Elrond wants you to learn about other kingdoms. While you're here I assume that I have to be the one to teach you. So every day I will have you spend time with me in meetings, reviewing the garrison, checking border patrol and various other duties. It will vary daily, of course," he said, sounding as bored as he knew she was going to be.

"So I have to be your shadow while I'm here?" That didn't sound that awful to her. She would be running her own kingdom one day, after all. And it meant that she could be around Thranduil as much as she pleased. Every second she spent with him she desired him more and more. She had always scoffed at Arwen for her love for the Elessar, her future husband, she'd call him. He was a child now, but he would be a Man soon enough. Linwe had never quite understood the concept of love. She never knew her mother, and what her father and Lindir shared was nothing more than physical comfort, devoid of love or even respect. She had always thought that love was a myth. Until, that is, she laid eyes on the Elvenking.

Something inside of her recognized a kindred spirit in him. It wasn't just his physical beauty (though that helped). It was something deeper, something that all the other Elves seemed to miss.

"Is there a reason for your continued silence, Elfling?" Thranduil asked. He was not angry, but amused and observant. She was not like the Elves of the Hidden Valley, who were warm and open, relying on their brains instead of their instincts.

"Well, my lord, I was merely thinking that I would rather be following you around than being tossed aside like yesterday's refuse," Linwe said. "If you will excuse me, I believe I should retire now and prepare for training tomorrow."

Linwe left the room, and bumped into Legolas and Tauriel, whom she greeted. "Tauriel, the king is allowing me to train with you, so perhaps I could be a member of the guard."

"Well, I'd be quite glad to be of assistance," Tauriel said. "I will go to the king tomorrow and ask for a preferred schedule."

"Elrond would not be pleased," Legolas observed.

Linwe smirked. "I believe that that particular fact is why your ada agreed to let me train."

That was, in fact, part of the reason. Thranduil could not understand why Elrond kept his daughters sequestered, but perhaps it had to do with his late wife, Celebrian, who sailed West after a long illness. Perhaps he wanted to keep his two daughters safe, but he did not realise that, by doing so, he was hurting them even more. They would both rebel if he did not show them respect and equality.

The loss of Elrond's wife made Thranduil start to think of his own loss. When his father, Oropher, first ruled the Greenwood, Thranduil met and married Celeblasbes [name meaning Silver Leaf Wife], a cousin of Celeborn, husband of Galadriel and father of Celebrian. They had a son named Legolas, whom you, reader, now know. After Oropher died in the Battle of Dagorlad, Thranduil returned to Mirkwood and to his wife and son, who was barely a baby. When he brought back the ramshackle remnants of the army, he found that Mirkwood was being attacked by a dragon, Gostir. Due to powerful Elven spells, the forest could not burn, but Elves could.

Thranduil, realizing that he needed to take charge much sooner than he had expected, leaving himself no time to grieve over the death of his father, gathered what he could of the Army and rallied against the dragon.

His wife was a doughty warrior, skilled in archery and spellcasting. Celeblasbes was fighting, leading her own small army against it, presumably to protect her baby.

"Melamin, hurry and get back to Legolas," Thranduil said, rushing to her side with his sword drawn. "I cannot see you hurt."

"It is for our Little Leaf that I fight," she replied. "I will not let anything hurt him!"

"Then we shall fight side by side," Thranduil said, seeing the determined look in his wife's lovely eyes. They battled for hours, wounding the dragon but not defeating it. It killed more Elves, but it was so large that it could not move as it wished. At this point, Thranduil was certain that his wife was going to kill it and be hailed a hero, but that was sadly not the case.

Celeblasbes saw it turn, heading in the direction where their halls-and Legolas' nursery-were, and she dashed off, dancing on tree tops, to get to it. Thranduil followed close on her heels, afraid for her to face the creature alone.

"You will not touch my son!" Celeblasbes shouted, loosing three arrows at once at the creature. One arrow hit its eye, making it half-blind.

In an instant, Thranduil went from feeling proud to feeling pure dread, as Gostir turned its flames to his wife. Thranduil was quite agile, the best Elven fighter, but he was not quick enough to save her. She was killed by the flames, and Thranduil had lost sight in one eye and most of the skin on the left side of his face.

Thranduil hurled his sword into the thing's neck, uncaring for his own well-being at that moment, and his recklessness paid off: Gostir died there, and his reign of terror had ended.

The Elvenking knelt by his wife, searching for some sign of life. He was amazed to find that she still breathed! As his face leaked blood, he tried to wake her. Her hair was mostly gone, and her skin was crisped. Her eyes had been melted out of her face, and he could smell cooked flesh. It took all his willpower not to vomit.

"Celeblasbes, please, speak to me," he begged, only one eye capable of creating tears.

All she was able to say was, "For Legolas," before her heart ceased to beat. Thranduil bent over his fallen wife, not caring that his new subjects were seeing him weep. They said not all tears are evil, but these were. He cursed life, and, after that public display of emotion, he metaphorically covered up his heart in mithril, and no one ever saw him smile, laugh or cry again, not even his beloved son, for whom his wife had given her last breath.

Thranduil covered up his scars with glamour, and covered up his emotions as well. Not since that day had he ever felt anything acutely...until he laid eyes on Linwe, daughter of Elrond.

"What is happening to me?" he whispered to himself, alone in the dark.