Mirkwood Part 2
The kingdom throws an elaborate wedding celebration for the newly returned prince and his bride. It's clear several elves disapprove of his choice of woman, but Legolas doesn't seem to mind, so neither does Adrienne. Instead, they choose to focus on those with good tidings and well wishes, joining in the celebration of their love.
It's certainly not the kind of wedding ten-year-old Adrienne had imagined, but as she dances with her elvish husband in this fortress of rock and trees, she decides this one is infinitely better than anything her adolescent mind could've conjured up. There's magic in the air–literally.
She lets out a contented sigh as her head rests on Legolas' shoulder. "You know, girls like to talk about fairytale weddings, but I'd say this one takes the cake."
"I'm glad you think so," he replies with a voice like warm honey. "You deserve the best."
She pulls back to give him a cheeky grin, her eyes sparkling. "Mm. Good thing I married you then."
The smile he gives her sends a warm fuzzy feeling from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. "Indeed."
They stay like that, smiling at each other like two lovesick idiots who are the only people in existence in that moment. It's Adrienne who manages to break from the spell, prying her gaze away while still smiling brightly as she coaxes them back into a gentle sway. Her eyes snag on the figure of someone lurking over by the staircase, glaring at them from the shadows.
"Do you know who that is?" she asks in a low voice. "Over by the stairs?"
She watches his expression as his eyes seek out who she's referring to. His brow furrows as though he faintly recognizes her but he's trying to place her name.
Wow, that has to sting. She's madly in love with him and he hardly even remembers her.
"Her name's Melgal-hi," she helps him out, and his eyes light up with recognition.
"Ah. Yes," he answers with a nod. "She's one of our only active educators here."
"She's a teacher?"
He nods. "The number of elflings has dwindled over the years, but there is still a decent amount, and they are in need of education. And while it is considered a very respected position, I must admit it is one not many are willing to fill these days. I suspect it's simply because we're a bit out of practice with children." The corners of his lips tug up. "And by that, I mean grown old and tired of having to put up with them."
"Huh. Interesting."
"How do you know her?"
"Oh, right. We uh, sort of met the other day. She's…not too fond of me." She cringes thinking back to the unpleasant interaction.
Legolas' face darkens and Adrienne can tell he's thinking about how Melgal-hi isn't alone in such feelings of contempt.
Cracking a grin, she tries to lighten the mood. "Apparently she has a massive crush on you and she's just salty I cuffed you first."
He shrugs. "She's hardly unique for harboring such feelings; it's no reason to treat you poorly."
While she doesn't disagree, Adrienne is a bit taken aback by his nonchalance. He's clearly used to being the source of many elf girls' unrequited desires. It serves as a reminder that he's royalty and thus, up until recently, was considered the most eligible bachelor here.
"You don't…feel bad for her? For all of them?"
His head tilts quizzically. "No," he says, his voice perplexed and on the verge of laughter. "Why should I?"
"Well I don't know, it just must suck."
"There are thousands of elves who reside here and only one crown prince, of course I would be the object of many of their affections. It's not my fault I can't give them what they want; I am not personally responsible for their feelings."
She catches her bottom lip with her teeth. "No, I guess not."
"Besides," he continues, taking a moment to twirl her in their dance, "it's not as though I was leading them on."
"None of 'em ever tickled your fancy?" she teases, an eyebrow arched.
He laughs. "No…well, there was one, but she didn't return such feelings."
Adrienne blinks as she tries to determine whether he's being serious or not. When she concludes his words were genuine, her head falls back as loud laughter forces its way out of her throat. "No way! You got curved?"
He makes a face at her as heat creeps up his neck, contrasting against his pale skin. "Yes, so what?"
"So what? That's gold! All these elf girls thirsting over you and the one you like said 'nah.'" She wipes a tear from her eye. "Oh man. You have to point this girl out to me. She must've humbled you."
"She no longer lives here." He looks away then, and from the emotion in his eyes-not love, but sympathy-Adrienne can tell the woman had meant a lot to him...and that some misfortunate must have happened. "She sailed West many years ago."
She smiles softly, shaking her head. "Darn. And here I was hoping to meet this legend."
"Yes, how unfortunate," he grumbles. "You'll just have to wait until we reach Valinor."
"Hey," she says seriously, placing a hand on his cheek to turn his face back to hers. "I'm gonna tell her she missed out on the chance of a lifetime."
From the kiss she's rewarded with, she guesses she said the right thing.
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It becomes rapidly apparent that Elves know how to party. But considering the fact that they have thousands of years to perfect getting their groove thang on, Adrienne supposes she shouldn't be surprised. Still, as they all sing, dance, feast, and drink into oblivion, she finds that the party continues to surpass her expectations.
Sweaty from dancing to her heart's content, Adrienne makes her way over to the table where Legolas is talking with his friends. She frowns as she realizes they're speaking in Elvish, wishing she could join in.
Oh well. Nothing's gonna get her spirits down tonight.
Propriety momentarily forgotten in her intoxicated state, she sits directly on top of the table and swings her legs around to the other side of the table, leaning close to her lover.
"And how are you enjoying our wedding, my dear husband?" she asks, donning a regal accent.
He turns to her as his friends quietly excuse themselves, taking in her flushed cheeks. "How much wine have you had to drink?"
"Just a little," she answers, her fingers pinched together.
He frowns at the vagueness of her answer. "Did I not warn you that Elvish alcohol is extremely potent to humans, even in small amounts? Could you not heed that warning?"
"I did! But I was dancing and having fun and people kept telling me to try a sip of their drinks and I couldn't just say no," she relays with a smile.
Legolas casts his narrowed gaze over to where several elves are watching them and snickering, knowing they must be getting a kick out of seeing a human get drunk so easily. Of course they would be encouraging her.
He shakes his head as he rises. "I'm going to fetch you some water. Don't move."
She leans forward, fluttering her lashes seductively as she lowers her voice. "Why? What are you gonna do if I misbehave?"
The insinuation catches him off guard and he does a double-take before looking away. "Just do as I ask, please."
"Well, since you said please," she answers sweetly, watching over her shoulder as he walks away. When she turns her head forward again she almost jumps out of her skin at King Thranduil's sudden presence, yelping. "You scared me, dude!"
While the King has been nothing but polite to her since their first encounter, he has also withheld any kind of warmth to it. It's plain to see he means to be civil but not friendly. A case of I may have to accept it but I don't have to like it.
Now he eyes her with careful, calculating eyes. "I wonder," he muses, "what it is that my son finds so captivating about you."
She blinks slowly, cursing her alcohol-fogged brain for putting her at a disadvantage in this conversation. "Um…my pretty hair?"
"Surely my son would not fall for someone because of a trivial trait such as hair," he scoffs, walking to survey her at different angles with critical eyes. "No, there must be something else. You're not a witch, are you?"
She snorts. "I wish."
His finger taps at his wine glass in thought. "Whatever it is about you, it must be impressive–in the eyes of my son, at least."
Impressive?
"I'm not gonna lie, I think Legolas just thought I was funny and different. And you know, interest is just one step away from attraction."
Thranduil comes to face her directly, his piercing eyes narrowed. "Different? Is that a characteristic on which you would build a relationship?"
"Pshh, no," she waves him off. "There's a lot more to it than that; I just meant that's how it started. He was curious, and he also felt bad for me, so we would watch the stars and talk for hours, you know? I told him about how my mom died and he told me his mom died and we were like–whoa!–bonding moment."
Something flickers in the Elf King's eyes before he turns away.
"I felt comfortable telling him stuff I never used to before," she continues, her loose tongue running away from her. "He's easy to talk to, and soon he was sharing stuff with me too. Legolas is…well, he's really special, which is why I know you only want what's best for him. I know I'm not what you'd hoped for in a daughter-in-law, but-but I love Legolas with my whole heart, and for whatever reason, he loves me too. And isn't that all that matters?"
He tilts his head in her direction, his voice carrying something akin to remorse. "Mortal love is not on par with that of Elfkind. Even if you love him with your entire heart, as you say, it cannot compare to even a fraction of his own. That is something you cannot fathom, which is why you do not understand my grief for Legolas."
Her brow furrows at the turn this conversation has taken, feeling herself becoming more sober by the second. "Your grief for him? Just because he gave his heart to someone you deem to be lower than your kind? Look, even if what you say is true, and love is relative, it still shouldn't matter. I'm giving Legolas all the love I have to give, and that's enough for him."
"Is it?" he challenges. "Enough? I fear it is not, for when he one day has to part from you, when your mortal body fails, whatever love you'd given him may not be enough to save him from the grief of your loss. He will not be strong enough then. He does not know what that will be like."
Adrienne leaps off the table, straightening her shoulders as she stands before the mighty king.
"HE DOES!" she shouts. "He does know what that's like! He watched me die, he held my corpse in his arms as he wept. And then the Valar sent me back, and you know what? He chose to love me again. When I returned Valar had granted me the lifespan of a Maia, but Legolas didn't know that at the time. Do you understand? He chose me all over again, knowing he'd have to experience my loss again someday." She raises her chin resolutely. "He is strong enough; he's strong enough to do it twice over."
Thranduil stares back at her with eyes wide and mouth slightly parted in shock.
Her chest heaves from her heated display of words, and she's suddenly aware of the attention they've drawn to themselves, including Legolas hurrying over to her side. She cringes inside, not having meant to make a repeat performance of the party in Edoras, but, unlike last time, she can't bring herself to regret it. Last time she'd spoken harsh, untruthful words to Legolas. This time, she spoke genuine words defending him and their love.
Slowly, the king's shocked face turns to his son. "Is this true?"
Legolas holds his father's gaze even as he loops his arm around Adrienne's waist and hands her the glass of water he'd gone to fetch. "Yes. And I will not have you insult my wife by saying her love does not amount to mine, for she gave up that which she held most dear for me."
Surprise and pain enter the King's eyes just before he turns his head and closes them. He stays like that for a long moment before addressing them both.
"I do not understand your love," he states slowly, hesitating, "but...perhaps it is not for me to understand. The two of you are clearly committed to one another…and I suppose…that is all I could ask for."
His face softens considerably as he finishes the sentence, even going as far as to give them the smallest–but undeniable–smile. Some sort of respect shines forth from his eyes as he gazes at them in confused fascination. Then he turns and walks away with his elegant robes trailing behind him, his features carefully schooled.
The stunned couple stares after him.
"Did we just get your dad's approval?" Adrienne asks in disbelief.
"I believe so," Legolas answers distantly. He tilts his head down to look at her. "I must say I expected it to take much longer. And not as a result of you yelling at him."
She smirks up at him. "I guess we're just that much of a power couple."
He doesn't respond, once again staring in the direction his father disappeared with a crease between his brows. As the significance sets in, the crease smooths out and a boyish smile lights up his face.
"You know what this calls for?" Adrienne asks with a glint in her eye. "More wine."
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They celebrate late into the night, and it's hours later before they stumble back to their room.
"Ohhh my word," Adrienne all but slurs. "I feel SO good right now. You elves are holding out on the rest of the world, let me tell ya."
"Yes," her husband replies, voice laced with amusement, "though I doubt you'll be saying that tomorrow."
"Pssh, who cares?" she scoffs as she plops down on the bed, watching him kneel to thoughtfully remove her shoes for her. "Hey, why aren't you like, at least tipsy? I know you're an elf and all but you drank wayyy more than me."
A soft bout of laughter comes from the gorgeous man currently unlacing her shoe. "I am tipsy, but I would not be so foolish as to become so inebriated that I could not attend to my overzealous wife who has not yet grown accustomed to elvish wine."
She thrusts out a hand and waves it in emphasis. "Look at you! Stringin' together a sentence like that. You're so smart even when you've had a bunch to drink."
He glances up at her with raised brows, an amused smile playing on his lips. "What have I told you about your flattery?"
"Not flattery," she smirks back. "Just the truth."
Having successfully freed her sore feet from their confines, he braces his arms on either side of her as he rises to meet her lips with his. They both smile into the kiss, blissfully buzzed on alcohol and love. When he pulls away, Adrienne audibly whines.
He rotates her body slightly and with ninja-level speed, he nimbly undoes the back of her dress.
"Put this on," he says, indicating the sleep shirt he suddenly conjured in his hand. "You won't be comfortable sleeping in your dress."
Grumbling, she does as he says-albeit with a lot of fumbling. When she's finished she looks over to see him putting some leaves in the kettle, preparing what she assumes he's making tea, but who knows in this place? Whatever it is, she doesn't care. She only cares about him at the moment.
"I just–I just love you SO much, you know?" she sniffles, suddenly emotional. "I don't know what to do with all this love, I wish I could just wrap it up in a bow and give it all to you."
He laughs lightly, continuing to brew whatever it is he's cooking up. "You already do, ithildin nin. Every day, in every word and touch. I feel it."
She eyes him from her place across the room, taking in the sight of him. He looks especially handsome at the moment, his elegant clothing flattering his form and the warm light of the fire reflecting on his face. She gasps loudly, her eyes sparkling.
"You know what we should do right now? Have sex! And lots of it. Yes." She lifts her arms straight up in the air. "Take your pants off and get over here, lover boy!"
Her husband ignores her generous suggestion as he pours the contents of the kettle into a cup and brings it over to her. Sitting beside her on the bed, he gestures to the cup. "Here, drink this."
She ignores the order and leans forward with a grin. "I thought I told you to take your pants off. Here, do you want me to show you how it's done? I'll go first." Her hands go to the hem of her sleep shirt and start to pull it up.
Legolas' free hand flies out to halt her movements. "No, you're not taking off your clothes and neither am I."
A pout forms on her lips as she genuinely looks hurt. "You don't want me?"
His gaze softens.
"I always want you," he assures her, gently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "But at the moment, you are very drunk, and I would rather have you when we're both in the right state of mind to enjoy it."
She crosses her arms. "You're no fun."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he deadpans. "Now drink this, please."
She eyes the liquid warily. "Why?"
"It'll ease the after-effects of your drunkenness tomorrow."
"I don't get hungover."
"You will from this. Now drink, I don't want to tell you again."
She rolls her eyes as she takes the cup from him. "Bossy."
He watches her drink, noticing her grimace at the bitter taste. "You'll thank me in the morning, trust me."
When she finishes, she places the empty cup on the bedside table and wipes her mouth on her sleeve. "Okay, now what?"
A cross between annoyance and amusement flickers across his face. "Now you get some sleep."
"I don't sleep either."
"Adrienne," he sighs.
"Okay, okay. Sheesh." She reaches out to cup his face in her hands, both her expression and her voice growing deadly serious. "Will you hold me, at least?"
He smiles softly in response and she immediately decides she quite enjoys having him smile in her hands. "You need not even ask."
She crawls over to lie down and he slides in beside her and holds her close. Content in his arms, a peaceful smile graces her lips as she drifts off, mumbling, "Fairytale wedding alright."