Thranduil watched the bard struggle to stand up. She was so damned expressive—he saw her decide she wouldn't be able to reach all of the necessary accoutrements if seated, give a little sigh of resignation, and then get on with it.

Valar, but she was entertaining. It made the evening more bearable.

Filauria took a deep, quiet breath and squared her shoulders.

Then it was as if she transformed into an entirely different being. The tired elleth he'd been watching for the last quarter of an hour disappeared.

This she-elf slowly and confidently picked up her own glass cup and brought it to her chest, where the steam rose from it to frame her petite face. Very carefully, she rolled the glass in her fingers so that the hot water touched every part of its inner surface, warming it thoroughly. This went on for a few seconds. Her movements were practiced, graceful, and almost mechanical. He reasoned with himself that she'd probably done this for her tutors countless times—until the execution was perfect. The elleth then slowly emptied the water from her cup into the empty stoneware bowl.

Slowly, gently, she set her cup down, then did the same with his.

Thranduil took tea all the time, but generally, Ayduin served it. Or someone else. It was never anyone particularly engaging to watch. He thought back to the beautiful times when his late wife had served him. Now, that had been fascinating. Especially when she'd done it naked and they'd gone to bed afterward.

Filauria emptied his cup into the stone bowl and then set it carefully down before him. She refused to make eye contact with anyone but didn't seem to mind being watched. Which was a good thing, as she would set the tone for the next stage of the ceremony. So far, she was handling it well.

Now, she reached for the long, slender stirring stick. As she did this, a corner of her sleeve brushed the back of his hand, which rested on the table. It sent a pleasant chill through him.

Slowly, she used the stick to stir the tea in the clear carafe. The end nearly reached the base, but not quite. When it was incorporated and most of the leaves had floated gently to the bottom, the elleth withdrew the carved stick and tapped it a few times on the lip of the glass. Then she set it down.

Now, for the strainer. She picked up the delicate mithril netting and placed it over the King's empty cup. Then she picked up the heavy carafe and poured. She had to lean close to do it, and he could smell her—a lingering floral scent with spicy undertones, sweat, cosmetics, and the remains of the dinner they'd finished. She smelled good. He sat up straighter, reminding himself to pay attention to the proceedings.

Filauria removed the strainer from his cup and set it over hers. Once they each had some of the faint yellow liquid steaming languidly in their glasses, she replaced the carafe and lowered her hands to her sides, turning to him.

Thranduil granted her a small smile of approval. The table had been completely silent through her ministrations, and watched him now for the signal to begin. The King raised his warm cup to his lips and tasted—just a small sip. It was hot, but very good.

At his tiny nod of assent, soft conversation broke again and everyone else began serving their partner at once.

The bard seemed relieved as she took her seat next to him once more.

She'd done them all credit, but he was going to make a joke about how sloppy her performance had been anyway when he noticed the slight sag in her shoulders and the dark circles under her eyes. Perhaps he'd leave her alone tonight. It wouldn't do to have the royal bard weeping in front of the Lake-town ambassadors.

The next day, I met Chalia Ravaxalim in one of the large libraries. While I waited for her, I stood holding a steaming mug of chocolate and peering out at the autumn day through the large, gracious windows. The weather in the Mirkwood was generally temperate for most of the year, though we did experience freezes and snowfall. In the colder months, the atriums and vestibules that lay open to the elements in summer were vacated, and my kin and I chose to frequent more enclosed spaces like this one.

The leaves on the trees outside were a riot of crimson, peach, pink and gold, beautiful to see.

I was still stiff and sore from being up late the night before, but the thick, dark, drinking chocolate was fortifying, and I allowed my tired eyes to close, basking in the small relief that brought.

It had been a strange evening. The ambassadors from Lake-town were impressed with the service and hospitality of the elves. I had expected more political discussion and negotiation to take place as we supped, and when it didn't, I assumed everything had been settled at the trading audience earlier that day. Certainly, I was relieved. The King had seemed as spent as I was.

The King. Why on Middle-earth had he chosen to invite me to sit with them all?

Chalia was just descending the stairs and smiled when she noticed me.

"Good morning," I called to her, and she replied in kind.

We embraced briefly and she gently kissed the side of my face. "Chocolate?" she breathed, and I nodded. Immediately, she held her hands out expectantly and I proffered my cup to her.

While she took a slow, careful sip, I sighed contentedly. "How are you, my friend?" I asked. "What news?"

Chalia's brow furrowed and she swallowed quickly, then gasped a little. "It's hot," she exclaimed, and passed the stoneware mug back to me.

I laughed silently.

"I will take my proficiency test this week," she told me with a proud grin after she'd recovered.

I wasn't sure whether to be excited or frightened for her. "I'm so glad this is happening the way you wish it to," I said carefully, and it was her turn to laugh at me.

"I know you love me, Fil," she said. "But you mustn't worry on my behalf. It will be months before I am called to active patrol. For now, this means a lot of training and physical labor. It's perfect."

At her insistence, I relaxed a little. "Good," I said.

"Oh, but there is something I would tell you," she added. "Let's sit down."

We sought a bench in a cozy corner of the library that still gave a fine view of the breezy, motlied forest outside.

Chalia's hip pressed in closely to mine, and I was grateful for the warmth. "Now," she said. "Don't be alarmed, but I have news of the fell beasts that have been roaming our forests."

"Don't be alarmed!" I cried. "Easy words. What now? More attacks on our kin?"

But she placed a comforting hand on my arm and answered, "No, no—nothing like that. I've just heard something from… Oh, from Tanulia. You came out with her, didn't you?"

"Yes, of course," I said impatiently.

"She is employed by one of the scribes in history and documentation now," Chalia informed me. "And settled in very nicely. She has occasion to encounter all sorts of interesting information, some of it ancient and arcane."

I listened, feeling a coldness begin to creep around my heart but not understanding why.

Chalia continued. "Tanulia found a scroll a few days ago containing information about the forest spiders. It is myth or legend, she believes, but we all know that myth and legend often spring from some truth. According to this scroll, the spider bite contains a poison—"

"I know that!" I snapped at her, but she rapped me slightly on the upper thigh in rebuke.

"Listen!" she insisted. "It is a spiritual poison. The bite does not only damage the victim's hröa—physically. It is harmful to the elves' fëar."

"The bite can damage fëa?" I asked worriedly.

She nodded. "This explains what happened to the little elfkin earlier this year."

There was a brief, horrified silence while I considered this. After a moment, I asked, "And does the scroll entail how to stop the poison, or at least to slow it?"

Chalia shook her pretty head, and for a moment the pointed tips of her ears showing through the thick strands of her hair. "There must be a way, but it is not spoken of in that particular piece of writing. Tanulia told me she means to keep looking."

"Manwë," I breathed. "She should not be searching alone. Others must be informed of this!"

And the elleth nodded. "Yes. She has brought it to the attention of her superior. This forest is very old, and though the infestation was once worse than this, that was thousands of years ago. It isn't anything our kind has had to worry about in a long time. There is clearly much we need to re-learn."

"We have been foolish," I corrected her, "Not to retain the wisdom our forebears won for us."

"Perhaps," she replied. "Fil, we are handling this. The information has made it to the war council."

I nodded, a little mollified.

"They will make the announcement today," Chalia added. "No one is to venture out into the Mirkwood unaccompanied. It is more dangerous than any of us thought."

"Thank you for telling me," I said quietly.

"Thank you for listening," she replied.