A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. There was a wedding in the family! Thanks to bluelusa for the awesome review. Yes, our Elvenking is imperfect, indeed, as this chapter will certainly highlight. There will be only one more lesson for him before the end of this tale.

82 – Blinding Love

It was a council meeting like many others they have had during nearly four years of their new reign. Sindar and Silvan advisors gave their reports and opinions as the Elvenking directed. The Elvenqueen and the royal steward suggested plans for the king to approve and delegate. As was most often the case, each issue was addressed quickly but thoroughly.

They were about half way through Galion's list of matters to address when Thranduil's attention was immediately recalled when he heard a soft intake of breath from Elluin. He glanced over just in time to see a flash of pain on her features, quickly smothered.

The Elvenking held up his hand and the council chamber went silent. Elluin looked at him calmly, anticipating the question.

"I'm fine, sire," she said quietly enough not to be heard by anyone but him, a smile hinting on her lips. "I was just kicked in the ribs quite forcefully."

As much as her words reassured him, Thranduil could not help his displeasure. Elluin was clearly tired and uncomfortable. Her beautiful face and slender fingers, which had always been slightly tanned by hours in the sunlight, were pale as she caressed her large belly with affection.

"The council is dismissed," the king said decisively, rising from his chair without sparing a glance at his advisors.

Galion managed not to sputter in outrage, making a valiant effort to maintain a diplomatic tone. "My king, there are still a few issues—"

"It may have escaped your notice, Galion," Thranduil interrupted, helping Elluin out of her seat, "but the queen is currently engaged in a strenuous task of the utmost importance. It is in the interest of the realm to ease her burden in any way we can."

Galion cleared his throat. Thranduil ignored the sound, which he had heard many times of late. The steward had been the recipient of similar comments rather frequently over the past few weeks in particular, and while he never objected to the queen retiring to rest, it was clear that he thought the king should not be granted similar escapes. But they both knew that the steward would not dare to make such a comment, especially not directly, and definitely not in the presence of the queen's father.

"Rest well, daughter," Soronume said, as if on cue. Elluin smiled happily at him as she allowed her husband to lead her out of the room.

Galion stared at the empty chairs at the head of the table for a long moment. With a disgruntled sigh, he turned at last to his fellow council members.

"Shall we continue?" he suggested to the room.

"Mileth," Lairien called to the servant by the door, "bring wine! I fear we will need it."

~.~.~

Sulros entered the royal chambers as quietly as he could, closing the door behind him. Maethon stood to greet him with a blank expression. "You're late," came his quiet accusation.

"You're daft," Sulros countered immediately, his tone equally hushed. "There are still stars in the sky. What is wrong with you?"

Maethon's brows wrinkled in confusion. "It feels like I have been here for days."

His companion stifled a chuckle. "No sleep again?"

Maethon gave an affirming nod. "The king's new habit has not changed. He spent all afternoon with Elluin, constantly calling for oils and dainties until I believe she fell asleep soon after nightfall. I do not think the kitchen attendants had much rest, either. Then he came out here to his desk—" the servant waved a hand at the disheveled surface, "and worked for several hours, demanding records and wine and ledgers. I was obliged to interrupt Pedirion's night with the king's requests, again."

Sulros grinned, wondering if he would find the time to tease Turiel about it today. It had been his own turn two nights before. The newly wedded royal librarian and mistress of the birds were quite displeased at the interruption.

Maethon sighed in exasperation. "Then Elluin woke again. Naudeth said she believes the babe is nearing, as Elluin is finding it very difficult to rest comfortably. And Thranduil went to her, of course, and it was tea and more pillows and 'Maethon, why can't you find something in the healing rooms that will help the queen rest?'" The servant rolled his eyes. "Even Elluin told him there was nothing to be done until the little royal is born. But you can expect a visit from ladies Linalda and Anarrima once the sun rises."

"Very well," Sulros said good-naturedly. "And then, once the queen was settled again, did Thranduil go back to work?"

"Of course," Maethon said sourly. "He neglects too much of it in the day in favor of pampering his wife. The movements of the court have slowed enough this past year, with so much of the king and queen's energy sapped by the pregnancy. He only retired about an hour ago, I think."

"What, would you rather they stay childless?" Sulros asked, baiting his friend.

Maethon answered him with a dark look. "Now you are the daft one. I just wish it did not involve so much running around day and night to cater to the king's slightest whims."

The click of the closing bedchamber door interrupted their conversation. There stood Elluin, a simply embroidered robe barely stretching over her belly, revealing much of her flowing, many-pleated night dress that she often referred to as a tent. She greeted her husband's body servants with a hushed, "Good morning."

"It is hardly morning yet, my queen," Sulros said, weightlessly scolding. "You should not be awake yet."

"An eager song thrush outside our window was insistent that I start the day," she answered wryly.

Maethon's eyes softened with amused affection as she walked toward them. Though Elluin walked as gracefully as ever, her wider gait made it seem more as if she were swimming through smooth water, rather than gliding over a frozen lake as was the wont of most ellith. But his thoughts shifted as her passage allowed him to catch sight again of the king's desk.

"What can we do to keep the king asleep?" Maethon said in a disgruntled tone.

Elluin sighed deeply, studying the floor. "Thranduil is sometimes too overwhelmed by his affection towards me to recognize other needs."

"Yes, and it nearly killed you the first time it happened." Maethon could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Sulros shook his head, still in disbelief after several years. "It is beyond me how that fool of an Elvenking could have thought that it would be better for you if he distanced himself from the elleth who was meant to be his bond-mate."

"I know. But I have forgiven him. He learned from it then, and he can learn from it now," Elluin replied firmly. "He learned then to consider my well-being over his feelings of inadequacy. And now, he must learn to care for his own well-being, also. Thranduil cannot go on like this. He is taking too much time away from his duties to care for me, and then trying to compensate by working through the night. It has been weeks now. He will be overtaxed and then be left unable to do anything as well as he should." Concern crept into her expression. "What if he is too exhausted to greet our child properly?"

"Have you told him your feelings?" Sulros asked, curious.

"Of course," Elluin said, lowering herself awkwardly into an armchair. Maethon brought over a footstool as she continued. "But he keeps insisting that I should not worry, and it is only for a little while longer, in any case. That much is true." The elleth smiled faintly at her belly. "It certainly feels like the little one is protesting the close quarters, of late. The day is drawing near."

Her smile faded with a sigh. Maethon easily scooped up the Elvenqueen's feet and settled them on the footstool.

"But how long can the king maintain this routine?" Sulros finished the thought for her.

Elluin met her friends' eyes, pleading. "What more can I do?"

Maethon took advantage of his friendship to take a seat beside her. "There is nothing more you can do," he said, decisive but kind. "As you are the beloved source of his blindness, it falls to others to help him see the error of his ways."

"Maethon, that is treasonous talk," Sulros teased. But the tired look on the ellon's face was enough to sober him. "You know what the king always says: 'The mind's work is easier after the body's work is done.' Perhaps a good sparring session with Captain Nidhair will help him think more clearly."

The queen's face brightened at the idea, but then fell. "He will not take the bait."

Sulros looked at her with a conspiratorial grin. "Then I think the queen may perhaps feel a very pressing sudden need for a walk in the woods."

~.~.~

Thranduil reflexively caught his sheathed sword as one of his Silent Guards tossed it to him, just as Nidhair dropped out of a tree at Elluin's summons. The queen had settled herself comfortably in the grass of the clearing she had requested to visit, with a flask of water and a basket of apples.

"Would you entertain me with a display of your prowess, dear husband?" she said sweetly, leaning back against a tree trunk.

Instantly, Thranduil realized that this was what Elluin had planned all along.

"My heart," he said, indulgently drawing Gaelang and moving to the center of the clearing across from his cheerful opponent, "I will do whatever you ask. You seem particularly intent on the idea. May I inquire, what is your aim?" The silent follow-up remark remained unspoken, but glittered in his eyes: For there are other ways I can show you my prowess.

Elluin smiled knowingly. After a pause, she said, "I have been surrounded by only soft voices, music, and shuffling pages for the past five months. I want to hear something loud, for a while—like the clash of swords."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at her, knowing that her response was true, but also that she was hiding something. But she simply bit into an apple and watched him. Turning to Nidhair, Thranduil gave him a questioning look. It went entirely unrewarded as the captain saluted and dashed toward him.

The sparring session had been going for only a short while before Thranduil realized with dismay that he was not equal to his opponent. Where he and Nidhair had usually been closely matched in skill, he felt himself flagging. His muscles did not respond with the strength they usually did. His mind was slower to calculate the next moves. His breathing and pulse were faster than they would normally be at this level of exertion.

If Nidhair recognized the alarm on his face, he did not show it. Instead, he sped up his attacks. Thranduil managed to counter them, resigning himself to remain largely on the defensive. As time went on and he felt his muscles protesting the strain, he began to worry that Tauglang would slip past his guard and find flesh. And still, Nidhair's blade whirled at him, again and again.

Thranduil was making his way backwards in a vain attempt to distance himself from his attacker. Nidhair's expression remained cool and focused while he was sure his own distress could be easily read. Yet the captain came on. The villain will not stop until I yield, Thranduil realized.

Black spots began to encroach on his vision and his feet moved unsteadily beneath him as his fatigued limbs struggled to keep him out of harm's way. His rapid heartbeat was starting to drown out the sound of his sluggish parries. How could this be? He had not performed this poorly in a sparring match earlier in the pregnancy. Though the child had been demanding a part of his strength ever since conception, Thranduil had remained among the most formidable of Greenwood's warriors. But now…

He stumbled back, failing to regain his balance before sprawling onto the grass. Nidhair gave him only the space of a breath to rise again, clumsily, before engaging again. Thranduil raised his sword again, only to have it knocked out of his hands. Instantly, Tauglang was pointed squarely at his chest.

Thranduil's vision had blacked out almost too much for him to see the bright metal before him, and his body slumped back onto the grass again of its own accord. He shut his eyes tightly against the throbbing in his ears, waiting for his heart and breathing to slow.

When he regained his senses, he opened his eyes to see Elluin kneeling beside him with concern on her features. He blinked, then looked accusingly to his other side, where Nidhair was glaring at him. What? He was upset enough that he had just failed so spectacularly, and now his friend was angry at him?

"What is it?" he growled Nidhair, even as he found Elluin's hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"If I had not been a friend, you would have been dead," the captain snapped. "And who knows what could have happened to the queen!"

The pieces fell into place in Thranduil's mind. This had been the plan then: to make him realize that he had exhausted himself in caring for Elluin, to the point that he could not even protect her. His head thumped back onto the grass as he allowed himself to acknowledge the truth. He shut his eyes again, breathing deeply. He allowed the anger at his friend to flow out of him, admitting to himself that he had not the energy to sustain it.

Eventually, he heard Elluin's hesitant voice. "Thranduil?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head to her. He had been reveling in the healthy contentment radiating from her since the moment their child was conceived. He realized that his pride at feeling that he had contributed to it with his efforts was entirely inordinate. Thranduil cursed himself for a fool. Once again, he had been warned about his stupidity—again, in loving ways, by Elluin and a handful of other Elves that cared for him. Even Galion had seen it. That had been the cause of his steward's unusual protests when he kept abandoning council duties, Thranduil realized. Of course Galion would be more concerned for his king's health than the speed of business.

And his darling Elluin… He knew how hard she worked, whenever he allowed, to keep the kingdom running smoothly so that fewer issues would arise that required their attention. He had essentially been undermining her—his own work, in his tired state, he knew was sometimes sloppy. Yet her face held no blame. There was only loving acceptance, and lingering concern.

"Forgive me, my heart," he said to her. "Once again, you expose my folly. I will rest more."

She sighed in relief. "Yes, do. Let us start now."

Nidhair rose with a muffled chuckle and resumed his position of guard. Elluin lay down beside her husband, maneuvering herself into as comfortable a position as could be had. And there on the springy grass of a small clearing south of the Dark Mountains amid the forest realm of Greenwood, the Elvenking and Elvenqueen slept, lulled by the rustling of leaves in the breeze.