Surprise! I'm still here, and this entire story is still plotted! Forgive my absence, dear readers. I will post slowly, but I intend to see this through.

EmberSoot

As usual, preparations for the House of Thranduil to entertain guests were underway before I even expected it. Each time this happens, I mused, it is as labor pains in a female nearing her delivery date.

The halls in the compound of Mirkwood showed signs of gentle stirring, little changes that others might not notice. Slightly more servants bustling about than was customary, unfamiliar yet delectable smells emanating from the kitchens, and an influx of snowy sheets hanging outside to dry on the rare sunny days.

When Lord Elrond Half-Elven and his retinue finally arrived, the court of Mirkwood fairly sparkled with the preparations.

I had never seen Elrond before, but I was in the main audience chamber when he and his people were ushered in. It was a small but pristine group—nary a hair out of place, backs all as straight as the graceful trees that comprised the Mirkwood around us.

Legolas seemed very glad to meet the group and strode forward shamelessly to embrace his kin from Rivendell.

The Lady Arwen Undomiel—who initially didn't speak a word to anybody—wore a dress of starlight blue that trailed on the floor after her. I found it difficult not to stare at her—the contrast between her clear, pale skin and that black, gleaming hair was arresting.

Lord Elrond was clad in fawn and mossy green. His manner was easy, pleasant, and elegant… warmer overall, I considered, than Thranduil's icy composure in most social situations.

As the nobles conversed, I grew lost in thought, aware on some level that there was probably ample subtext behind this flourish of required pleasantries—but having no idea what it might entail, the possible unspoken sentiments flying about the room dizzied me. I conjectured that some posturing was happening based on the body language… old alliances—or rivalries—reignited? Some competition, perhaps, as I had seen before with Galadriel's Lothlorien contingent?

Of course, it didn't matter. It had little to do with me, I knew that much!

Which is why I was surprised to hear my name issuing from the prince's lips. "Filauria Ilitris is her name," he was saying, "And I should be very happy if you would meet her…"

He and the Lady Arwen were making their way toward my place in the throne room—a small group of musicians had claimed a corner that evening in preparation for the expected mealtime entertainment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Khidell put his pipe down and move skittishly away under the pretext of fetching more water for us. I rather suspected that the sight, much less the presence, of the very Evenstar made even his palms a little sweaty.

"Fil," began Legolas when they reached me. "I would like for you to meet Arwen. Arwen, this is Filauria, the bard I was telling you about."

"My Lady," I said, precisely at the same moment she intoned, "It's a pleasure," in the silkiest voice I have ever heard.

After I gave her curtesy, I looked up into her beautiful face, almost haloed in the light of the numerous candles burning in the chamber. Up close, she was even more stunning than I had given her credit for. A fleeting new thought occurred—would the prince deign to pursue this lovely Arwen? They would make a fine match in every conceivable way.

After a short pause, Legolas added, "I'm very interested to hear what you think of Filauria's voice." By way of explanation, he said to me, "Arwen is a trained singer herself, and very accomplished."

She gave us one of her rare smiles, a sea of pearls. "But I have not sung in many a year," she demurred. "It will be a joy to hear Thranduil Elvenking's favourite bard play and sing at dinner. I'm looking forward to it."

I tried not to gape at her, and answered only, "Of course, My Lady. It will be an honor."

I was trying to get up the courage to ask her something like, "What is your favorite genre?" when the foreign affairs advisor Connak approached us to escort her away. I did not miss the look he gave the prince, as if to ask why in the world he would introduce Lady Arwen to a servant, but if Legolas noticed, he did not care. He gave me a wink and followed her back to the tables.

I jumped when Khidell appeared at my elbow and whispered, "Better you than me!"

The evening tripped on. Wine was poured and enjoyed, and I joined the other performers to provide gentle, instrumental music leading up to dinner.

Then—right before the meal—something happened that I was not quite ready for.

There was a commotion in the front hall outside the doors of the chamber. Booming voices, clattering.

Alarmed, my kin looked about themselves for what the matter might be, and as if in answer, Ayduin came scurrying in with a look of desperation on his face. He went straight to the Elvenking, whispering to him in what must have been a supremely irritating manner.

"Yes, what is it, Ayduin?" barked Thranduil loudly, having no patience for the delicacy the attendant seemed to want to observe.

Ayduin, slightly deflated, announced, "They're here, Highness."

Instantly, a change of manner from the Elvenking. "Are they?" he asked, standing suddenly and looking obviously delighted.

The advisor seemed relieved. "They are," he replied. "I'm so sorry, my King. I tried to usher them to their quarters. They understood that we are about to observe the meal, and well—that did not concern them…" the ellon trailed off.

"Just as well! Serve them with the rest of us, if we've the food to spare!"

"Oh, very good, your Highness… I take it I can show them in, then? You don't mind the interruption?"

"Not a bit, not a bit, my old friend."

I was curious in spite of myself and tried to listen in surreptitiously without missing any strums on my lute. In the end, I didn't have to wait for too long, because the door to the front hall opened, and I saw them… menfolk.

Somehow, they were different from the trade delegation of Northmen. The former were solicitous, perhaps because their visit revolved around a literal transaction. This group of soldiers was… loud. And dirty.

There were perhaps eight of them, all wearing dark cloaks and fur collars against winter's chill. Their voices boomed out in the chamber as they called their greetings to those of my kin they were acquainted with, and I saw the gathered ellith and ellyn stir in a new and unfamiliar way.

I was struck by the change in behavior from our monarch—and his son. Thranduil strode forward to embrace his friends without any reservation whatsoever, clapping them all hard on the back. And Legolas seemed to want to wrestle with a few of them, an impulse I didn't quite understand, especially in light of his recent injury. The result was a companionable cacophony, a decidedly male chaos. I smiled and tried not to let any of my feelings come through on my face. We actually stopped playing for a moment to observe the reunion.

I was so accustomed to the silvery laughter and clever conversation that usually marked evenings spent with my kin. Now, the air rang with the Elvenking's raucous laughter—and with Legolas' eager and unveiled remarks.

Lady Arwen herself seemed familiar with several of the men, and even graced the room with her beautiful smile a few more times. I envied her easy bearing and the way she was able to move seamlessly from what was normally acceptable to whatever this unknown form of socialization was. Notably, the menfolk did not follow the general rule of conversation—a heading, a subheading, questions and responses from all present in the small group of two or three, any debate if applicable, a witticism or two, and then a migration on to the next subheading. No—in fact, they seemed more than willing to jump wildly from heading to heading, with bawdy jokes punctuating every few minutes, and they all clamored to be heard over each other, equal responses from all be damned.

It was fascinating.

I got to meet one of these manlings later that evening when all of the festivities were winding down.

Most of the more peripheral servants had been dismissed, the bulk of their evenings granted back to them as a core group of attendants waited on the royal court and their enthusiastic new guests. I lingered though, as I'd not been given specific instructions either way. I doubted there would be more music tonight, but did not care to make the mistake of assuming.

Though I'd not actually interacted with anyone, I felt weary, as though carrying a great, invisible burden in my head. I tried to shake off the feeling as I helped myself to some fragrant water with floral blooms floating in it.

One of our guests from Gondor approached me, grinning broadly. He wore no armor, but the white tree was inscribed on his tabard, and I noticed a small tattoo encircling his forearm that suggested a flowering vine. "Not partaking of the wine, eh?" he asked congenially. "It's a good vintage."

I granted him a small smile. "Not this time. You should feel free to, though."

He nodded. "Oh, don't worry. I do. And I have! Name's Carlath, by the way."

Almost automatically, I dipped into a curtsy. "Filauria," I intoned correctly.

His smile widened as he took in my form, not bothering to disguise it.. "It is my great pleasure indeed to make your acquaintance. Are you a courtier? Friendly with the royal family?"

My eyes flicked, hopefully undetectably, about the room, quickly taking in my immediate surroundings. I knew the gentleman was trying to demonstrate interest and a willingness to interact, but I couldn't help feeling a little uncomfortable. I wondered if a more subtle tack might be enough to put me at ease, but the reality was that I had no idea.

"A little of both," I finally answered. "In fact, I ought to go and see—"

"Oh, now. I've scared you away then, have I?" Carlath asked jovially. "Forgive my forthright manner. I have not the skill to be coy with lovely she-elves."

I gave a slight shake to my head, feeling panicked. "Not at all," I told him faintly.

At this, he threw back his head and laughed. "Not at all that I should worry over having offended you? Or not at all that I have skill in conversation? I fear it's the latter!"

And suddenly, Prince Legolas was there, smoothly intercepting this Carlath so I could make my escape. I gave him a grateful smile and moved away from the serving tables.

As I neared Ayduin, I was surprised to see that he looked just as uncomfortable as I did. "Yes, my dear," he said, divining my unspoken question. "I think that's all the music the company will be requiring for tonight. Our guests plan to stay only for a day or two before they leave with the prince, so the next few days should be decidedly lower-key."

At this, I blinked. "What did you say?"

He nodded kindly. "You may consider yourself dismissed for the evening. I'll take it from here."

I frowned, thanked him, and turned to go, certain I had misheard. The prince? Leaving with the Gondorians? And if so… why? What about Elrond's retinue? Hadn't they come to the Mirkwood expressly to visit with the royal family? Not that I doubted King Thranduil's ability to host them, but without the prince, the whole situation seemed to fall rather flat. What of Lady Arwen?

At this moment, I was surprised to hear the very ellon I was thinking about softly calling my name. "Filauria," Legolas intoned gently. "Might I have a word?"