I am in the Musicians' Hall, watching the choir rehearse the Song of Loss Danna. One voice rises above the others, as silvery and light as mithril. It belongs to Hanneth. Her dark strawberry hair and impressive height make her prominent among the other singers, and although she shares her mother's fair features, in personality she could not be more different.

She gives me a spirited wave, earning a disgruntled look from Caewen nearby. I respond with a warm a smile.

The Musicians' Hall was my own idea and design, born from the hope it would signify a new beginning for the realm, a new age. A place where the kingdom could unite through the language of music. I carefully designed the airy, high-ceilinged building with both Sindar and Silvan cultures in mind. Situated just outside the village center, it has been a haven for everyone, for those skilled in music and for those who simply love listening.

I have often visited since its opening, even more after Hanneth volunteered her voice to the choir. No longer do the musicians act flustered when their Queen watches, for they are now accustomed to my presence. Although Thranduil has ever supported my project, he has given me full rein. I usually come on my own.

The song concludes with a flourish, and the group begins to disperse, gathering their heavy winter cloaks before braving the cold. Hanneth rushes over with a grin, her bright indigo, bell-sleeved gown making her stand out even more.

"Caewen was furious with me," she says. "But that is no surprise."

I watch as Caewen walks out the door with a noticeable frown, not bothering to speak with anyone. "She once captivated an audience before even opening her mouth, but now it is your voice the kingdom praises. I do hope you are not intentionally provoking her, Hanneth. You tend to be quite bold and-"

"Na lû e-govaned vîn, Hanni!" a raven-haired ellon with a lazy smile calls out, winking at her.

Hanneth rolls her eyes, ignoring his goodbye.

"Hanni?" I ask.

"I made the mistake of being friendly with him yesterday at the practice grounds. Now, he is under the impression that betrothal is imminent and believes he may…take liberties. He could have at least chosen a more agreeable name!"

I try to hide a smile. "Ah, iell nín, perhaps you should at least give one of them a fair chance?"

"'Twould only be wasted time. I would end up looking like I had sucked a lemon, like Caewen."

"You should not be so harsh on Lady Caewen." I put on my cloak. "Regardless, why do you adamantly believe such?"

Hanneth puts on her winter cloak as well, a lighter shade than the indigo of her dress. "I would forever be reminded I should have waited, waited for the one I have already set my heart on."

She pushes open the doors. The world outside is stark white, with snow weighing down the tree boughs and blanketing rooftops as if trying to bury us. Eryn Lasgalen has not seen such a heavy snowfall in at least a decade, and I can hear the gleeful shouts from children taking advantage of its presence. Though cleared from the pathway leading from the Musicians' Hall, the snow still nearly reaches our calves on both sides.

"Who have you set your heart on?" I have my suspicions, but I am curious if she will admit it willingly.

But she is not paying attention. Her hazel eyes are focused on a point in the distance. "Oh, he is beautiful."

I follow her gaze. With his tall stature and branched crown, and the sweeping cloak over his broad shoulders, he makes a striking silhouette in the snow. My stomach swoops as if I am in the first blushes of love again.

"Do not tell me it is still the King who sets your heart aflutter," I say, unable to tear my eyes away. "I could never part with him, even for you."

"And he would not let you, even if I offered all the jewels of Arda!" She laughs prettily at her jest, but we both know it is true. "The King will always set my heart aflutter. Yet, I realized long ago his son is still without a wife, and I am a good fit for him."

My suspicion is proven true. I do not even try to hide my exasperated smile. "Shall you then take the Straight Road to Valinor to pursue Legolas, instead of staying here with your kin?"

Hanneth furrows her brows. "I have no intention of staying, my lady. I wish to see with my own eyes if Valinor is all they say it is."

"And you also wish to see Legolas."

"Perhaps," she says demurely. "I have little doubt my family will follow me. Nana loves me too much, and perhaps loves you even more; she would not wish to be separated. You will surely have us waiting for you in Valinor."

I cannot help but wonder if Gwendes is aware of her daughter's plans. She has never spoken to me of the future, and I have not braved asking. I am too afraid. I have had too many goodbyes of late, and the parting between us would be a permanent one. Despite Hanneth's reckless determination, I hope she is right.

"And what if Legolas is not interested? He can be quite strong-willed, like his father. I can assure you he will not take well to any sort of…force!"

"When did I say anything about force?" Hanneth asks cheerfully, braiding her hair loosely to the side. "I shall simply have to show him he has everything to gain by being interested in me. Even you cannot deny we are very much alike."

"He is quieter than you."

"Balance is required for any relationship to endure."

"That is true, but-"

"He even likes red hair."

"He likes Tauriel."

"Liked," she emphasises. "Before you ask how I know for certain, I asked him myself before his departure. He told me his heart belonged to the Sea."

I look at her, surprised. Although Thranduil and I concluded he had fallen out of love with the Captain after the War, he had never voiced it. Had Hanneth formed a bond with him before he left Middle-earth? Perhaps they had at least become friends.

I doubt I shall ever know the entire story. I keep company with the most secretive beings in the Woodland Realm.

"I see you have been very thorough."

"Indeed, I have," she sighs, as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders with her plans. "Alas, it will do no good to think on it today. I believe I shall take my bow to the practice grounds instead."

I shake my head. "I might believe you to be my own child if we were not so very different."

"You will have a child soon enough, hiril vuin. Luckily for your sake, she will be nothing like me."

She is off before I can reply, sparing only a moment to turn and wave at me before I lose sight of her in the snowy distance.

Does she possess the gift of foresight, the ability to see a future I cannot? Surely it is not so. She was only offering me a touch of hope. It does not take foresight to guess that if I ever have a daughter, she will be quite different from Hanneth. In truth, there is no one in the entire Woodland Realm like Hanneth, daughter of Sírdor.

They were simply kind words from a child, a child too young to understand how her words might be misconstrued, how they could cause offense. And perhaps they would have, many years ago. But not now. Now, I am free from the burden of wishing for more than I have been gifted. I look towards Thranduil in the distance, and his eyes meet mine. My breath catches in my throat.

I am content.

"Were you waiting on me?" I ask as I reach him, my Winter King, with his snow eyes and raiment of silver and blue.

"You took your time."

I throw him a coquettish smile. "Yes, you were waiting on me. What other reason for the King to wander from his cave? Do not tell me you wished to play in the snow. I shall not believe you."

He leans over me, his expression stern but his eyes teasing. "Would it surprise you if I said I wished to see my wife?"

"Perhaps not, but you are a pleasant sight all the same."

His mouth curves into a soft smile, and he steps back. "You are beautiful."

My stomach makes a low swoop again, and I look down to hide my blush. Ten thousand years from now, I have no doubt he will still make me feel like a new bride. He takes my arm in his and we walk by the river, our boots crunching over untouched snow. Muted sunlight falls over our hair from a low-clouded sky. It looks as if another snowfall is imminent.

"I believe I know whom Legolas will marry," I say.

"I thought your matchmaking days were long behind us."

"There has been no matchmaking on my part, I assure you." I pause, letting out a small laugh. "Hanneth has her eye on the target, and I do not believe Legolas will have much say in her aim."

"And how is her aim?"

"Quite good."

"Does she not think he is too old for her?"

I raise my brow. "I do not believe we have any right to speak about age differences, herven nín."

Thranduil says nothing, but the line of his mouth thins and turns slightly downward. I watch as a snowflake twirls happily in the air before finally deciding to land on his hair. It blends in with the color, and I lose sight of it.

"She is a tenacious elleth, so very different than Tauriel and her quiet strength," I say. "But who am I to dissuade her? Perhaps she knows something I do not."

"Or perhaps her head is as empty as her mother's."

"Thranduil!"

He chuckles, pleased by my appalled reaction. It is an old jest between us, one he never tires of. The sound of his laughter warms me like a summer's day, and as ever, I am torn between wishing to defend my friend and allowing him to have his fun. Though he will never admit it, he has grown fond of Gwendes over the years and particularly enjoys her apple-cinnamon cakes.

"It is surprising how well Hanneth and I get along, considering our natures are opposite," I say.

He raises a brow. "Opposite? I would not say so. You are more alike than you realize."

I stop walking and give him my full attention. "How?"

"Do not tell me you have forgotten the cave troll incident. I have never had a child address me in such a manner, and I have never seen your poor father so ill at ease."

I release his arm and cover my face, the memory returning as if I had been struck by a hard-packed snowball. How easy it is to forget even the unforgettable when I have three thousand years' worth of memories to contend with.

Though I do not remember my age, I was young enough to accompany Legolas in his forest explorations. One summer day, we ventured farther than allowed, the prince's famous curiosity leading the way despite my protests. Then there was a cave, and of course, he wished to find a hidden treasure within. I warned him. He would not listen.

Knowing that I alone was responsible for his safety, I had no choice but to follow him. It was not long before a rotting stench and heavy snores alerted me to the troll's presence. Then, the snoring stopped abruptly. I grabbed Legolas's hand, and we ran like the Mearas, only stopping when we reached a guard. In a mixture of fear and excitement, Legolas told the guard everything. The news reached the King within moments.

Legolas and I were immediately brought before Thranduil in his throne room. Never before had I seen the King so angry, so intimidating as he sat high upon his antlered chair, looking down at us like one of the Valar, soon to condemn us to an eternity of punishment for our crime. It was not until I reached adulthood that I recognized his behavior as fear of losing his only child.

"You accused me of being responsible for Legolas's safety, that I had recklessly allowed him to go into the cave despite the dangers," I recall, the details returning vividly. "Though I knew I should be frightened, you did not scare me in the least."

"I never have," he says, amused.

"I wonder why."

"You did not hesitate to inform me that you could not control Legolas's curiosity, and that if not for you, he would have been the first course of the cave troll's supper. You told me I was being mean and ungrateful."

"You were!" My entire body shakes with laughter. "You looked more stunned than I have ever seen you. If only your expression could have been captured. The great King of the Woodland Realm brought down by a mere gwend."

"Now you are exaggerating, meleth nín."

"You know it to be true."

"Perhaps you entertained my guards, but you nearly killed your father."

"Oh, yes." I smile wistfully as I remember. "He tried making excuses for me. He tried to convince you I had surely fallen and hit my head during our frenzied escape. But you reassured him that it did not matter, that you admired my daring, my spirit."

His reaches out for one of my curls, wrapping it around his finger. "Do you see? You are more like your little apprentice than you realize."

"Perhaps."

He touches his forehead to mine, and my legs feel as though they might melt into the snow. Aware of the effect he has on me, he wraps his arm around my body to hold me up.

"You are perfect for me in every way, Rîneth," he murmurs in a low, soft voice.

"Perhaps that is why I have never been afraid of you." I twist my lips.

"Or perhaps you see something in me no one else can."

I touch his face. "I see light. It is what I have always seen in you, Thranduil."

His lips meet mine. At once, I am reminded of our first kiss at Laurenendë, our first kiss as husband and wife, our first kiss as lovers, the kisses between—sweet and hard, fast and slow. The sound of the river rushes in my ears, or perhaps it is my heart, for it will ever beat as swiftly as running water when he is holding me.

"What do you see when you look at me?" I break the kiss to ask, our passion making me feel daring.

"A star."

"Not a jewel?"

This time, his laughter is loud and uninhibited, his usual guarded features transformed. "You may still think me a dragon with a treasure hoard, Rîneth, but I long ago discovered that stars shine brighter than jewels and are hotter to the touch."

"'Tis a good thing you are not made of ice, then."

"Indeed." He cups my face. His hands are warm.

When he kisses me again, I do not ask any more questions.

A/N: Thanks so much for revisiting Thranduil and Rîneth with me. I hope you enjoyed this collection as much as I did. :) I'm hesitant to let these two go just yet, so there may be more to come in future. Thanks again for all your lovely comments!