Chapter Seventy-Five
(everything is spoken in Elvish)

~ Legolas ~
"Estel?" I said.

She started, almost jumping in surprise, but I placed a hand on her shoulder, stilling her impulse to jump or run – whichever it was – and reassuring her that it was just me.

"Legolas, you really need to stop doing that," Estel scolded.

"It is not my fault that you seem extraordinarily distracted this morning, Estel," I countered teasingly.

But she didn't respond to my teasing.

Which only increased my concern and fortified my original sentiment.

I leaned closer and brushed my fingers against her cheek. "Estel, meleth, what troubles you?" I asked gently. "You have not been so distracted since we first found Eldarion or your fa – Ah. It's your father, is it not?"

Estel's cheeks flushed, but she stared determinedly forward, avoiding my gaze. She did not speak, and I remained silent as well, waiting. If she had a problem, I could not force it from her. She would have to tell me – she would have to trust me.

Finally, she murmured, "Yes, it is my father."

"What about him?"

She sighed. "I do not think he will approve."

"Of?"

"Us."

I tilted my head, trying to catch her gaze. "What part of 'us' are you referring to, meleth?" I prompted gently.

"Just us. Everything," she amended. "There are some many rules we left unattended. We were not considered in a betrothal contract. You did not seek my father's permission. You have not courted me. Our families have not agreed on the marriage. . . There are so many things we didn't do, Legolas, so many traditions we have broken."

I waited. "Does it bother you that much?"

Finally, Estel turned to me. "No," she said. "I could care less about tradition, because we just don't follow tradition anyways."

"That was not my question."

She sighed. "What answer do you want? I hate it, I love it, I do not care?"

"No, meleth." I clasped her hands between my own, drawing her closer to me. "I do not want any answer you think I want. I want your answer, without any regards to me, or your father, or tradition, or anything else."

She finally met my gaze. "No, Legolas. It does not bother me."

I pulled her into a gentle embrace. "Then that is all that matters right now," I whispered. "We will deal with your father when the time comes; but, Estel, in the end, it is we who will live with the decision, not him. If you want me to court you, to follow the traditions of Men, I will – but only if it is what you want and not simply you appeasing the tradition of your forbearers."

Estel laughed. "Court me? And how, pray, could you court me?"

"I would deal with that later."

"In other words, you would have to think about it before you finally solved the issue," she teased.

"What do you expect? I do not pull solutions out of mid-air. I'm not a magician or wizard."

"I bet you wish you could be."

I laughed. "Valar, no, Estel. I have all the magic I need – right here."

She smiled, resting her head against my shoulder and relaxing. "You still need to talk with my father, though," she told me.

"I will."

Estel pulled back. "You have to, Legolas. Do not put this off. Please. It won't – "

Someone cleared their throat.

I turned and felt Estel start within the circle of my arms. But when she saw the person in question, she immediately made to pull away and I released her at once, for the person was her father, and from the way he gazed at me with hard, narrow eyes, I did not think it wise to provoke him further where Estel was concerned.

Not if I wished to make it out of me without being arrow-ridden, anyways.

"Father," Estel cried. She rushed to him and hugged him.

He hugged her back, but his eyes never left me but for a moment, and that was when he kissed her forehead, a fatherly greeting to a daughter. But I could see that had I moved, it would have been no trouble at all for him to simply swing Estel around, separating us.

He really did not like me, or the idea of us being together.

Hmm. So in that Estel was correct.

I hadn't thought she was lying. I had just assumed that, like all families do, she had exaggerated a little about her father – unintentionally, of course, but all families did that about their loved ones.

Apparently, though, she hadn't.

"Estel," Lord Elessar said, "would you mind to give us some privacy?"

Estel bit her lip, and glanced quickly back at me. "Very well, Father," she said, but her voice was the most reluctant I'd ever heard it. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

I suppressed a chuckle. A subtle threat, meleth, a subtle threat indeed.

Lord Elessar faced me when she was gone. "Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood." His tone was calm, but there was an air of . . . almost belligerent. Not dangerous, just warning.

Then again, he had seen me hugging his daugher.

"Lord Elessar of Gondor," I said, addressing him with a perfectly calm tone, as I knew Estel would have wanted.

"You know me?"

"I have heard your story, Lord Elessar. Three times now, at least," I added. "Eldarion wanted to ensure I knew what I was getting into when I pledged myself to Estel as her protector in case Aragorn or Eldarion could not be by her."

"Her . . . protector?"

"You did not know of her participation in the Battles of Helms' Deep and Pelennor Fields?"

One of his eyebrows went up. "She did?"

I inclined my head. "She did, and I commend you for raising such a skilled fighter," I said. "She more than held her own."

"Hmm." He studied me. "Nevertheless, Legolas Thranduilion, that is not what I came to speak to you about."

"You came to speak to me about Estel, and the way I should have gone to . . . court her, I suppose you call it," I supplied. "I know. Lady Kiria discussed it with me a while ago. She wanted to be sure that my intentions towards Estel were clear."

"Did she now?"

"Yes."

"And what did you tell her?"

I hesitated. My words were . . . probably not what he wanted to hear. But, dutifully, I repeated, "I told her that my rank has nothing to do with Estel's affections for me, and that I never intend to use it against her. But Estel will always be my queen, for I will never choose another, not even when she passes."

"And when you pass over, Legolas?"

I hesitated again. "I have not yet made that decision," I confessed. "Remaining here will bring me pain beyond imagining – but abandoning her merely for my own peace of mind is . . . unthinkable. Truthfully . . . if Estel passes to the Halls of Mandos . . . I am not sure what I shall do, but believe me, if there is a chance that I could follow her into the void, I will not hesitate to take it. But until then, I will not leave her."

"Even as the gift of Men takes its toll?"

I didn't even blink. "Until death do we part, and when I pass into the Halls of Mandos, I will carry her memory with me forever."

Lord Elessar sighed. "I guess that is as fair of a request for Estel's hand as I am going to get from one who is ignorant of our traditions." He gave a sharp look. "But tell me, Legolas – do you honestly intend to make her a queen?"

"She will always be my queen," I answered evenly. "But my father is immortal; I doubt I will take his throne."

"And if you do?"

"Then she will be the Queen of Mirkwood, and my subjects will welcome her."

He sighed again. "Very well, Legolas. . . You have my permission to court Estel, and if she agrees, to ask for her hand in marriage. But mark my words, Legolas – the second you hurt is the second no one in my House will ever look upon you as a friend or regard you with favor ever again. Do you understand?"

"If I ever hurt Estel like that," I replied, "I would deserve that and punishment a thousand times more."

Finally, Lord Elessar gave me some what a smile. "Good luck with her, Legolas," he said, and for the first time, I could feel his resentment and hostility draining away.

I chuckled. "Thank you, but I fear I will have worst storms to weather with her."

"There is no doubt of that."

Lord Elessar inclined his head to me, and I copied the motion, and so we parted on equal terms.

~ Estel ~
"Legolas, are you sure this is a good . . . well, idea?" I asked fearfully, smoothing down the front of my dress for what must have been the twentieth time, if not more. Then I brushed back my hair, for at least the tenth time, and resumed my pacing.

Legolas laughed from where he lounged comfortably. "Estel, meleth, calm yourself," he chided. "He won't bite."

"He's a King!"

Legolas laughed again, and finally rose to halt my pacing. "And you, meleth, are a princess in your own right," he reminded me softly.

"Not in reality," I argued, fighting the blush that rose from the intensity of the emotion on his face. Emotion, affection – for me. Clearly displayed.

He looked faintly amused. "Calm yourself," he repeated. "It won't look to be all ruffled and anxious when he – "

"Legolas!"

A tall Elf strode into the room. His blue eyes, only a shade darker than Legolas, were calm and joyful, while his arms were already open to embrace Legolas. A shiny circlet of gold encircled his head, barely seen considering the golden locks of hair that fell freely down his shoulders. He was every bit a King, and the King of Mirkwood no less.

And he was Legolas's father.

"And who is this?" King Thranduil asked when he caught sight of me.

I curtsied instantly.

"She is Lady Estel Elessariel," Legolas answered.

I straightened just in time to catch the sharp look of surprise and perhaps even alarm that Thranduil sent his son.

"Elessar's daughter?"

"Not the King Elessar," I interjected. "Pardon me for interrupting, Your Majesty; but my father was named after King Elessar. He is not King Elessar himself."

"Hmm. I should have known," he muttered. "But if anything is to be said, you could easily pass for a child of Elessar and Arwen, girl. Very easily indeed. . . But enough of titles! If my son thinks you worthy enough to bring you to me, then I think we can dispense with the pleasantries, eh?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Thranduil laughed. "None of that, now," he said, sinking into a chair.

When we were all settled, we made small talk – I threw in a few comments here or three but mainly kept silent. It was clear to me how much Thranduil loved Legolas, and even clearer how much he had missed him during the months he had spent roaming Middle-earth with the Fellowship. I had had Legolas to myself all that time, and so I did not begrudge the King a few measly minutes, or even hours if need be.

But Thranduil ended it after only twenty or so minutes.

He set down his drink, and said, "So, Legolas, what is the purpose of introducing me to Lady Estel?"

Legolas hesitated. Then, respectively, he announced, "Father, I intend to marry her."

Thranduil straightened abruptly, his eyes flickering to me. I got the feeling that he was reevaluating his opinion of me, and that got me worried . . . again. Elves had keen sight. So what could he be seeing in me?

But again he surprised me.

"Well, it's about time," he remarked, settling back against the cushions.

Legolas frowned slightly. "Not that I'm complaining, but – "

"Why?" Thranduil finished. He sighed. "Well, it is time, for one. I've been wondering when you would finally find a woman you found worthy of you and your attention, someone to grace our House with children again. I know it took me a long time too, Legolas; but you surpassed me, no doubt about it."

"And you – you won't even ask any questions?" I interrupted, unable to stay silent anymore.

Thranduil turned his blue gaze to me. "Hmm. Perhaps a few, Lady Estel; but I have heard of you, you know. Word travels quickly between Imladris, Mirkwood, and Lothlórien. I have heard of these . . . Believers, and your exploits with the Elessar you bear around your neck," he said, nodding at it. "And Elrond confirmed a great deal of it to me when I arrived. So, no, I'm not going to ask many questions. If you managed to crack Legolas's shell there, I think you'll do."

"Shell?" Legolas looked offended.

"Well, you do have a hard head, Legolas," I teased.

Thranduil laughed. "Yes, I think you'll do, Lady Estel," he said, still chuckling.

We managed to pry ourselves away from him a few minutes later, which was good, because I could tell that we were already late for dinner. And sure enough, when we arrived, everyone was already there, sitting wherever a seat could be found, balancing cups and plates all over the place.

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence?" Eldarion called.

"How did it go?" Tinúviel demanded.

"Enough!" my father shouted, not to be mean but just to be heard over the roar of laughter. "Let them eat first, you two; we can bombard them later."

We had barely gotten food and drinks and sat when the questions began anew.

Thus distracted, no one noticed the bright flame of light that was glowing in the darkest corner of the room. That is, until it was so bright that even a blind man could have noticed it. The light shone like the light of Valinor itself was supposed to have shown – bright, enduring, and good. It was undeniably a sign, but of what was another question entirely. . .

Legolas stiffened and half-rose.

He wasn't the only one.

The laughter, the questions, the calm – all deteriorated into tenseness. Even Aragorn reached for his sword.

"Calm yourselves."

The voice rolled out from the light, calm as the summer sea, strong as the winter gale, melodious as the spring night.

I recognized it immediately.

It was the woman who had met me on the battlefield of Mordor.

I leaped to my feet as my heart thudded in my chest. I had survived that encounter, but had she come to collect on my promise to exchange my life for that of my family, my friends, and everyone present that day?

"Who are you?" I demanded. "And what do you want?"