"Oh, what a tangled web we weave...when first we practice to deceive." ― Walter Scott

Lie. Sometimes she wondered if that was all she was capable off. Standing here before the King of Mirkwood in the moonlight. It was a warm night with a cool breeze. On nights like these standing under a canopy in the royal gardens it was easy to forget the foul darkness, the orcs, the shadows the rings. A white rose lay outstretched in Thranduil's hand its petals in late blossom shifted in the wind. His eyes found hers once more and he repeated his question perhaps realizing how distracted she had become by the proposal.

"Will, will you bind to me for life?" The words are once more hesitant. Not like the King Thranduil who is stern and proud. Not like the father Thranduil who is caring and occasionally frustrated with his son Legolas's near death encounters and heroic antics. This is a different Thranduil a young hesitant Thranduil. At this moment it is hard to say that he has lived for over five thousand years. Not that age matters she is far, far older. What matters is that he does not know, can't know. She has long raged at Elrond's advice. She had asked why he had sent her to Mirkwood, asked why it was that she had no control over her heart when it came to Thranduil. He had said nothing. Only warned her to accept the proposal.

He had, had a vision a vision he told her little of only that she should accept the offer. She was tempted to crush the rose, throw it at Thranduil's face, or better yet tell him everything. But she had sworn on Valor's name long ago, sworn to secrecy. Only Elrond knew and only because he had been there when Galadriel had seen the fall in her mirror. Even Celeborn had not been told. Her hand hesitated as it hovered over the blossom. She could see the waver of uncertainty in Thranduil's keen eyes.

"I will." Her voice was weak but firm. Her response lit the king's face with a wan smile.

"There is not much time for celebration I am sorry but I, we can-"

"I can make do with what little we have." She cut him off laughing as he trailed off his face a mask of apology and denial. Valor! How could he be so vulnerable and fragile and yet so insufferably stuck up and arrogant at times. The laughter caught on and soon they were both laughing her tinkling voice and his deeper one. Still somewhat course from lack of use. When was the last the last time she had heard him laugh?

The approach of an elf ended the carefree moment. The Kings face instantly transformed into a mask concern as he noted the parchment Galion was carrying.

"Is it from him?"

"Ay my King."

A sigh escaped Thranduil. "What does he say?"

Galion hesitated but relented at a pointed look from the king. "He is extending his stay in Rivendell he says Elrond is only too happy to host him and he wished to spend more time with Elrohir and Elladan.

"Ai Valor!" The King muttered.

"Shall you write back my king?"

"No, No you may go."

Pity stirred in Queen Ingwe's heart as she looked upon the exchange. "The fault is mine Thranduil. It is for me he is distancing himself."

"The fault is not yours melamin . He is still burdened by the events of last spring. The darkness is growing it waits for no one. And yet it is better that he is there and not here. I will rest easier at night knowing he is in safe hands."

"The darkness will one day pass." Her eyes found Thranduil's alight with fierce hope.

"I pray you are right."

"You too are burdened by what occurred."

Thranduil rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly as she furiously plucked at a petal from the rose. "You spoke to the orcs."

"I knew not what I said!"

"They listened."

"Only barely! Thranduil I knew not what possessed me!"

"You spoke in their language."

"We had no other choice I saw them speak in Galadriel's mirror the mirror told me what I should say! Or do you not trust her as well?" The story was well rehearsed. The lie had worked every time and Galadriel agreed to back her claim. The entire scenario was an accident. They were overrun. Losing, but for a moment she saw not orcs but her loyal servants. Men, women she knew. She told them to go, to leave. And they heard her, just barely. If they hadn't she wouldn't be here now. Neither would Legolas nor would many elves.

"I trust both you and her." Thranduil whispered in her ear, his long thin fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His cool blue eyes met her darker blue as he caressed her face. Something in his eyes flickered and for a moment as they pierced through her illusion unconsciously reading her true age. He recoiled. The intimate moment was suddenly over. She could see Thranduil himself slightly confused at his reaction.

"I am sorry but matters of state do not wait." He smile at her wanly and left her standing in the gardens. The wind grew cold as she stared upon the distant moon. If only she did not feel so alone right now she could almost be happy. She was after all going to marry the man she loved.

melamin-my love

Note: Some things I add in as elven lore in this fic are not actual cannon.