Chapter Four: The Feast of Heros and Kings

The feast and celebration was grand, even if the heroes were weary. Thranduil and his wife watched with the usual amusement as several elf maids attempted to catch Legolas' or their other next oldest son's eye. Legolas, who had grown weary of the affair, finally chose a young Silvan elf whom most knew genuinely had an interest in him as a person, not a prince. He spent the rest of his night by her side, disappointing many. His other son enjoyed the attention of the many maids, and spent his time entertaining as many of them as possible. The other children were too young to even think about women at that point in their lives, so they spent their time running about the hall playing games with the others.

Finally the announcement that the food was ready was sent to him, and those in the hall took their seats. The food was brought and was met by everyone in the halls and beyond with not only awe but a deeper appreciation that usual. Venison, hare, leeks, an array of lettuces and greens, stews, puddings, fruit and berries... every thing they could imagine was paraded before them before being set down on the banquet tables. The king, queen and their sons (his two oldest joined by their pretty companions which they settled on earlier at their sides), were given the first cuts of meat. The first portions of the vegetables and stews. The desserts and fruits presented later after they finished each course. Thranduil insisted on the finest of his wine stores being used, rather than the usual vintages that were shared during these feasts.

He was aware of the guards protecting them with their ever watchful gazes not unto the feast, but outward, and the elves serving them their plates more than ever this night. The battle had reawakened his senses to the lives of those about him, and the servants found him thanking them, truly thanking them with eye contact and a sincere smile each time even the smallest deed was performed for him or his family. As if picking up on it, they as whole joined in, their younger sons confused by it, but his eldest, and his loveliest gem of all – his wife, understanding it. She had always paid such attention to the servants – her mother being descended from one of them. Legolas, sensible to not only his mother's background, but what his father had returned from but hours before, understood it all too well. Soon, Thranduil mused, his eldest would be old enough to ride into battle if the drums and horns of war should call them.

They watched the feasting, then the entertainers in turn, both king and queen tempered in their enjoyment. For him, the horrors of battle still were close in his mind, and it was hard to settle in to calm. The only thing that steadily relaxed him would be the occasional gentle squeeze of his hand that he would feel from his wife when she would reach over to him. Once the entertainers were finished with their antics, he found himself catching her eye when he looked over and smiled a genuine smile. Her cheeks pinked for moment before she looked away returning it. He took her hand in his and brushed a kiss on her hand. It made her look at him once more with a shy twitch at the ends of her lips before he stood and glanced down the table at his sons. Legolas snickered and went back to his companion, his youngest, made a disgusted face before turning away and starting to bounce in his seat with the desire to get up and rove about. This meant that a speech was in order, then the dances. It would do no good to keep the young ones pinned to their seats any longer.

He stood, making the sounds around him die for a moment. He raised his hand to the wine bearer, and this set all the others in charge of this task in motion. All goblets were filled. Thranduil nodded in thanks, and at seeing the various servants retreat back to their spots standing at the walls, he raised his cup and held it aloft.

"A great price was paid. Many of our kin mourn this day. Even though the blessed Valar offers the promise of rebirth and rejoining, it does not settle the sadness many of you surly feel this day. Many of you have lost a friend, a brother, a father, a son," he looked about and found the eyes of the elf maid from earlier in the day whose eyes were misting over, "a husband." He seen her look down and away trying to hide tears, as he, himself, looked down in sympathy, and then away at the others who all wore solemn faces, "None of our kin spilled their blood in vain. Know that. Raise your cups with me in their honor and memory. Until we meet them again in the west and the lands of the Valar."

There was a raising of cups all around, the sounds of drinking, the occasional sob heard, their replacement on the tables by many. He looked over at the musicians and the waved to them. They nodded, and began to play. He held a hand out to his lady.

She looked up at him in surprise, then recovered, and stood, laying her hand in his. Legolas stood next offering his hand to his companion, and their next to oldest son followed with his. He led his wife out to the dance floor and bowed. The music picked a steady timed beat and on the third, the couples began their movements. As was customary, the rest of those present did not join in until the partners exchanged hands, and were joined in a single line of steps, then returned to their partners*. Couples began to file in, and soon the center floor was abuzz with couples twirling, skipping and stepping in time to the music.

They finished the first set, then once they had rejoined each other, left the dancing to the others on the floor. They both looked about the room, noting where their children were before retreating back to their table overlooking the gathering. The youngest was off in the corner with his friends playing some type of skipping game. The next was off to the side watching the dancers with interest. It dawned on Thranduil that this young one would be entering puberty soon. The eldest two were preoccupied on the dance floor with their partners. Or rather Legolas was completely preoccupied with his partner. The other was friendly to every maid who twirled around him that would catch his eye. Thranduil shook his head and returned to his seat, his wife on his arm until they sat.

"Do you think we need to worry about that?" His wife asked softly looking out over the dancers from their elevated seats.

"Which one?" Thranduil asked as he brought his goblet to his lips and took a long drink.

"Even I am not sure. Both really. I worry less about Legolas than our little heart-breaker over there if I have to choose," she said bringing her own cup up to drink.

"Why do you worry less about one than the other?" Thranduil questioned, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

She considered for a moment, watching Legolas dance with his partner for a few moments. "Legolas knows his responsibilities, and I trust his judgment and heart. He is ready to find a mate if he desires." She looked at her husband next, "If he chooses this Silvan maid as his mate, I will not dissuade him. I would not have him deal with the same ridiculous problems we suffered at the hands of our own parents."

Thranduil was silent for a while before he answered, watching his son and the lady retire from the dance, smiling and going to a corner, hand in hand. He remembered the utter defiance he had to use against his own father and mother when he decided to pledge himself to his wife, even fleeing the palace and going into the wild – consummating their marriage under the stars and the canopy of trees rather than a warm bed with soft sheets and lovely pillows while the people about them rejoiced at their union. He shook his head, "I would not let him suffer in the same way either. If this maid is his choice, so be it. The other on the other hand..." He found himself rolling his eyes as he watched his next to eldest lead two maids from the dance floor laughing and joining a group of elves by the stairwells.

"Yes, I would rather he chose one partner at a time as well," she said with an aggravated tone.

Thranduil shrugged, trying to make light of it despite the fact that he wasn't very happy with it either, "I suppose he will outgrow it."

His wife didn't answer, but instead threw him a grim expression that conveyed doubt and exasperation.

He sat back in his seat watching all those below him. The weight of the battle somewhat lifted, yet weariness wassetting quickly in once more. He knew it was early in the night yet, but he was exhausted. He noticed many of those who had rode or marched out with him were already retiring. He glanced at his wife, and on impulse laid his hand on top of hers letting their entwined fingers rest on her thigh. The small warmth it brought eased the weight on his chest even more, and he felt his body, tense to some degree all night since the feast began, relax. He felt her eyes on him. Worrying and trying to remain silent about all that went through her mind and heart for the sake of the those about them. Decorum as always.

Author's Additional Notes:

*Watch any dance in any movie inspired by a Jane Austen novel. If you can't abide that, then think about sophisticated square dancing. You'll get what I mean here. Waltzes and basically any dances that you enjoyed with solely one partner is a somewhat new concept. You would have "country dances", and "cotillions", and others. Eh, just look it up if you're interested. :P I know the description isn't that great, but I haven't slept beyond 4 hours in 2 days. _ So, what I see in my head is probably not coming out right in written word. Hence why I tell you to reference the above.