The city of Minas Tirith was a sight to behold. Heavily fortified, it was built into the face of a cliff and stood seven levels high. Dwarves offered their help in the reconstruction of its walls and gates, to undo the damage that had been dealt to its structures during the War of the Ring. It was born anew, from stone and mithril, more fair than it had ever been, even in the days of its first glory.

The humans offered their new found allies a warm welcome. Arriving inside the grand hall, the Elvenking's eyes kept searching for her, but to his profound disillusion she seemed absent from the night's feast. His gaze found the child instead, playing with a wooden sword against an invisible opponent. He had enchanting blue eyes and white skin and his laughter was pure and cheerful, like a soft breeze. The elf could not look away from him.

-Forgive me, my King, you seem quite taken with our young Prince. A fair little man, is he not? Just like his father.'

Thranduil felt his heart flutter at the thought. He turned to face the servant maiden standing beside him, ready to refill his cup.

-'Indeed he is', he replied. 'I am almost envious of his long blond hair', he admitted with a smile.

-'I think it to be a trait from his father, the King, his great-great-grandmother, more precise, the White Lady Galadriel. '

-'He is Aragorn's and Arwen's grandchild? ' he asked, feeling his joy diminish in an instant and unsure how to react to the new feeling taking over him. Did he really hope it was his own?

-'Sure he is', the maiden replied, a bit puzzled by the question. 'Poor little thing, his mother died in childbirth. Queen Helena was kind enough to adopt him as her own. '

-'Queen Helena is not his mother? ' Thranduil asked, surprising the servant again.

Of course he knew in his mind that Sonja was unable to have children, but still a faint shroud of hope lingered in his heart over the years.

-'Well, no. She and the kind, their marriage wasn't like that', she tried to explain feeling a little awkward to be speaking of it. 'When King Eldarion saved her in the forest, she had been attacked by orcs, blood oozing from her head wound. She had no memory of who she was or what had happened to her. He brought her to the palace where she instantly became endeared by our little Prince. He was only a few months old at the time. He needed a mother. And the King needed a Queen. His majesty was gravely ill already. He had to think about his son and his future and the future of the kingdom. Queen regent Helena is a righteous ruler and she is kind with her subjects. He could not have made a finer choice. '

So that is why Sonja seemed to have no recollection of him and why he felt their bond so brutally severed all those years ago. She had lost her memories. She had become strong and wise and proud, a Queen. She had become Helena.

-'Where they not in love? ' the elf asked, wanting to satisfy his curiosity.

-'I am sure the King cared deeply for her. But after the death of his beloved Queen, I don't think he was ready to love another. Helena was more like his sister or a friend in need; I guess this is the right way to put it. '

Thranduil continued to make small talk with those present without really paying much attention to the words that came out of their mouths. His heart and mind were absent from the room. Half way into dinner, he excused himself, stepping out through the arched door.

Out on the hallway was quiet, the sound of the party felt like a distant memory. His gaze found Sonja,, strolling down the corridor towards the terrace. Moving with stealth, he watched her from the shadows, trailing her from behind the columns. She walked in beauty, like the starry night of Varda's sky. Thranduil moved to catch up with her but he was interrupted by another, approaching from the opposite direction. It was Prince Alistair. The elf hid himself from sight, waiting for her to be alone again.

Alistair approached Sonja, bowing his head discreetly when he met her eyes. She did not stop in her way, just sent him a faint smile and passed by him, barely brushing her shoulder to his. Alistair grabbed tightly on her left wrist, forcing her to stop in place. Sonja turned and cast him an angry look, surprised all the same by his actions.

-'Unhand me! ' she commanded in a low voice.

The Prince grabbed her even tighter, before speaking:

-'How long has it been since the King died? Two years? How long since you felt the touch of another? ' he asked raising his other hand and caressing her cheek.

Thranduil's fists clenched at his sides. He did not like the way he was speaking to her and less so the way he was touching her. He wanted to rush over there, but was afraid that he would not be able to stop himself.

Sonja turned away from Alistair's touch and replied even angrier than before:

-'Do not dare speak to me about him in that tone! I appreciate the support of your troops here, but I will not allow you to cross me like this. Unhand me! ' she demanded again.

-'You know how I feel about you, Helena. All these years I kept my distance, watching you with him. You cannot deny me... '

-'Is everything alright, my Queen? ' asked a guard, approaching the pair.

-'Prince Alistair was just going to his chambers', Sonja replied, hinting that the guard should escort him to make sure he will not lose his way again and reach the Queen's floor.

Alistair followed the guard reluctantly and Sonja continued her walk to reach the terrace. It was a terrible wind outside and strong gusts came and went, playing in her dark long hair. She let her eyes roam beyond the river to the lands that lay far to the north, inexplicably searching the horizons for a distant call that whispered of the Woodland Realm. She then lifted her gaze, staring absently at the grey clouds above, before voicing a prayer addressed to Eru.

Sonja turned to retire to her chambers and that is when their eyes met, for the first time after six long years. Standing in the middle of the corridor was this tall beautiful stranger with pale blue eyes and long silver hair. For a moment she had the feeling that she was supposed to know him from somewhere.

The elf fought the urge to take her in his arms to kiss her. Instead, he did not speak a single word and somehow managed to banish every emotion from his face. She approached him slowly offering him her right hand. The passing years had been kind with her, if anything she looked even more beautiful than the last time he knew her.

-'King Thranduil, I presume. We thank you for the support of your troops in this delicate and urgent matter. I hope you journeyed well. '

He bowed his head slightly, reaching to kiss her hand. He had so much he wanted to tell her, yet he could not breathe a single word.

-'Rest well, my King. Tomorrow we shall meet upon the battlefield', Sonja added before strolling past him and disappearing in the darkness of the corridor, leaving him with just her faint, sweet smell and the memory of the small scar that his lips had touched on the back of her hand.