We were in council, discussing the various migrations of dwarves and men near to our part of the earth when we were interrupted by a messenger. He barged into the king's chambers unannounced, setting a breeze to loose papers and upsetting the general dignity of all present.

"My king!" he bowed in the midst of the fluttering papers. "Arnor is divided at the death of Eärendur!"

I sat up straighter in my seat at this unexpected turn. I had not stopped trying to help Thranduil to see the importance of being involved in the political affairs of Arda, and this seemed an opportune moment to show him that I was right all along.

"Is that all?" Thranduil raised his eyebrows at the flushing elf. "That hardly seems important enough to come into my rooms during a private council uninvited."

I was irritated and not feeling particularly benevolent towards what the other council members would think of my improper behavior towards the king. I would soon be his wife, after all, and so I spoke my mind. "Oh, hush! Even if you are not interested in others' affairs, it does not mean that those affairs lack precedence in the world beyond your borders."

The king gave me a sidelong, and rather tolerating glance before he turned back to the scout. "Write a report and give it to me before the evening." The elf bowed again and departed, after which a stiff silence settled over the council.

Malandi cleared his throat. "If I might be dismissed, sire, I would like to hear the report firsthand."

Thranduil sighed and waved for him to go.

"I think that the migration issues have been discussed enough for this time," another elf said, standing and gathering his wayward papers in haste. The rest of the council filed out after him without any more explanations, leaving me with the sour king.

"Well?" Thranduil was looking at me, questioning. "Is there anything else you would like to say regarding my policies?"

"There are many things I would like to say," I said, my tone icy. "About your disregard for the lives of any besides your subjects, of you ignoring pleas for help from great kings, of your attitude of isolation in a world that could prosper with your aid!"

"You forget your place, Caradel!" Thranduil rose to his feet, still maintaining a small degree of calm. "You are not privy to all the news that reaches us here - nor are you allowed to scope through my inner-most thoughts at your will. I have very good reasons for what I do!"

"And how is your council to council you if you do not share knowledge with us? Is this a game to you, that you laugh at our ignorant suggestions while you sit comfortably on your throne and in your power!?" I stood to challenge him head on.

"Listen to me!" He grasped my shoulders and nearly shook me. "This is not a game, nor do I think you ignorant! I know information that is too evil to share - the forest would live in fear if they were aware of what I know!"

I lifted my hands and removed his from my shoulders, meeting his gaze with a level expression. "Pardon me, king," I said. "I should know better than to antagonize your royal person when you are obviously correct in all that you do."

"Don't be facetious," Thranduil replied, sitting back down. "This is not lessons and practice any more - mistakes cannot be afforded."

"Not practice? I never would have thought," I said.

"It should be obvious," A faint smile appeared on the king's face. "Since we no longer bout with poetry."

"A good thing, too," I folded my arms as I moved to peer out a window at the darkening sky. "All the better for you to be cured of your cheating."

He laughed then. "You do always bring up my faults."

"'Tis hard not to do."

"Would you consider a rematch?"

I glanced at him, quite suspicious of his motives. "So that you might win by deceit once more and make me look more the fool?"

"No cheating," he vowed.

I smiled. "I accept. But do not believe that you are safe from criticism from me, king."

"As long as you still marry me," Thranduil left me alone after trying to give me a kiss, which I rebuffed stubbornly.

That evening I was in my rooms, reading a letter from Celebrían, when I received an unexpected visitor.

I invited Malandi into my rooms after he knocked on my door with a troubled expression. "My lady," he inclined his head before accepting a seat by the crackling fire. "I have some matters to discuss with you, if you would."

"Certainly," I replied, not unperturbed at his choosing of me over more experienced council members.

"You are aware of Isildur's demise – of course. I was wondering if during your most recent sojourn in Imladris you conferred with Lord Elrond of the One Ring."

"Sauron's Ring? I have heard nothing, from Elrond or anyone else."

"I am not surprised – Lord Elrond does not want this to be common knowledge. I give you this warning that you might be prepared. The king will listen to you more than anyone else, although even then your chances of gaining his ear are slim," Malandi was leaning close to me, peering at me with an intense gaze through his white hair.

"What is it?" I feared the answer, twisting the silver ring that Thranduil had given me for our betrothal around my finger anxiously.

"The Ring was not destroyed – Isildur had the chance to destroy it in Mount Doom, but he was seduced by the power of the Ring."

A short silence followed. "Isildur has been dead these past years. Where is the Ring?" I asked.

Malandi sighed and leaned back. "We do not know. The fear is that the Ring remains in the hands of Men, but there is hope that it is lost."

"That is hope!" I exclaimed. "Perhaps it could remain lost indefinitely!"

"Unlikely," he contradicted. "The Ring harbors more power than we know. It will find a new soul to ensnare, of that Lord Elrond is sure."

"He did not share this with me," I said. "But I will remember this."

"Thank you, my lady. I hope that it does not resurface during our time, but it is a futile hope."

"Malandi," I grasped his bony hand. "I am sorry that Thranduil does not heed your counsel. I do believe that your concerns are founded, and your suggestions more valid than he realizes."

He laughed, a bitter tone. "I could say the same to you, my lady. Perhaps with time the king will see the rest of the world."

The competition was set for the following evening, and it did not take me very long to compose my piece. I still smoldered with anger towards my betrothed, and I wished for others to see his ridiculousness as well. I was bold in my recitation, and spoke confidently.

Wingless is the bird that titters its words
Clawless is the lion that strikes without warning
Flameless is the dragon that breathes its wrath
Hornless is the goat that bleats its fear
When the anger it delivers is matched by its prey

The bird that titters falls to an arrow of reason
The lion that strikes is struck by a spear of patience
The dragon that breathes is brought low by the greed of victory
The little goat that bleats merely totters to me
Full of apologizes, it sits on my lap and whimpers

I gave the crowd a saucy smile as I ended to giggles and knowing glances, curtsying and exiting the hall, past Thranduil, whom I smirked at.

"I enjoyed your verse," he whispered.

"It would be hard not to," I set my chin in the air.

"I hope you like mine."

"Your hope is misplaced."

The king entered the hall after squeezing my hand, bowing to the crowd. He cleared his throat, and declaimed:

For fear of falling out of favor,
With mine love, whose presence I savor
I elect to forfeit this competition
That our marriage may come to full fruition
And I do not regret choosing to lose this war
For on our wedding night, I wish not to be banished to the floor.

The mass of elves was laughing and hooting most indelicately, and I blushed. Thranduil looked back at me, with the same winning smile the crowd received. I glared at him, but his twinkling eyes made my irritation over our disagreement disappear. After a short internal debate on propriety and proper behavior and whether I really wanted to forgive him so easily, I ran to him and embraced him tightly.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"So am I." We kissed then, the elves now rising in volume with their crude remarks.

"Let's go," I said softly, pulling back to look beseechingly at the king. He laughed and swept me into his arms, and we left the hall through the building noise.

Happiness and light took on a new form for me. No longer was I rooted in besting Thranduil, but bettering him – and myself too. For once, we did not quarrel in setting ourselves above one another, but we disagreed is good spirits for the enjoyment of debate and being together. Our relationship had reached a level based on mutual respect and affection, rather than competition. I felt as if the secrets we had kept from each other for years were diminishing, and we grew more in the confidence of knowing each other so much better. The rare times we were apart, I found myself aching for his company, wishing that we could bond sooner. It made the winter months very hard indeed as I sat though more lessens than I had when I was an elfling – on duties, politics, alliances, and manners. I supposed that Thranduil had a hand in the last part, but I did not complain. He did deserve a proper queen, though I doubted myself constantly.

A few weeks before our wedding, I was brushing my mare in the stables when Thranduil came to me, carrying a wooden box.

"I have been looking for you," he said, leaping up to sit on the stall divider. "You can be very difficult to find."

"I apologize," I said. "I did not know I needed to update you on my whereabouts." I stuck my tongue out at him, and he laughed.

"I brought this for you," he held out the box to me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A gift. For you."

I stopped my half-hearted grooming and fetched an apple for my horse to avoid any upset, and I climbed to sit by Thranduil. I was not likely to overcome my weakness for gifts, which I was sure that he knew. The box was placed on my lap, and I opened it and inhaled sharply.

"Oh, my love, you did not have to –"

He stopped my protests by placing a finger on my lips. "Shush. Of course I did. No queen of mine is going to be improperly fitted."

It was a silver circlet, woven strands of delicate metal to look like graceful vines, inlaid with mother-of-pearl accents. "It's gorgeous," I said, unable to take my eyes off the piece.

"It will look better on you," Thranduil took the circlet from the box and placed it carefully on my head. I wished that this moment would not take place in the stables, with my hair unwashed and pinned up, but the admiration and devotion I saw on my betrothed's face outweighed all else.

"Thank you," I squeezed his hand, afraid of moving too fast and upsetting the teetering crown.

"It is my pleasure. Although," he looked at me, scrutinizing my appearance. "It does not match your dress very well."

I removed the circlet from my head so that I could kiss him properly. He responded fervently, and it wasn't until a group of elves entered the stables loudly that we broke apart, breathless.

"I should go," Thranduil jumped from our perch, and kissed my hand. "I have many reports to read. I will see you later tonight for a meal, if you will."

I agreed, and sighed to see him depart from me.