***Hey guys, I know it's been a minute, I didn't mean to leave this story dangling like that for so long... but life ¯\_(ツ)_/¯… anyway without further ado…***

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It wasn't orcs. But it wasn't men either. Unless Thranduil was thoroughly mistaken, it was … elves.

He slowly sat up and stared down at himself, at his bare feet and legs, the thin white tunic he was wearing, the strands of hair that hung loose in his face. What was he doing? He was hours from the stronghold, it was the enderi, and he had left Legolas ill and alone in his rooms without telling anybody. He felt a sharp pang. Surely Galion would be trying to find him by now; surely he would have gone into his bedchamber after being unable to find the king anywhere else. Hopefully. Thranduil remembered his son's worrisome feverish tremors before he had found sleep and cursed himself angrily as he got up and quickly climbed down from the tree.

He hastened back towards the stronghold, aware of the whispers of the woods around him, listening intently as he hurried past to gain a better sense of the unknown party. It was a welcome distraction from everything else on his mind. Whoever it was seemed to have crossed into his lands, but they were still a while away.

When he arrived back at the gates, it was midday and he had no cover of night to shield him from the curious looks of his guards this time. He silenced any questions with a haughty look and continued quickly on towards his chambers.

Galion was in his sitting room, busy with his wardrobe, when he burst through the door. He glanced up at him coldly, but Thranduil was so relieved to see he was there that he did not care about his demeanor.

"Ah, aran-nîn", he said curtly. "Always an honor to be graced with your presence."

Thranduil ignored the quip. "Is Legolas alright?", he asked breathlessly.

Galion shrugged. "He is quite poorly", he said, fixing Thranduil with a stern glare. "You will forgive that I saw fit to fetch a healer."

"Hannon le", Thranduil muttered, continuing on through the connecting doors, shame and apprehension knotting in his throat.

Legolas was sitting up in bed, propped up with pillows and leaning back with his eyes closed. He was swallowing continually, and holding a large bowl in his lap. Fairnathad was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing him. Neither of them took any notice of Thranduil as he entered.

Before he could say anything, Legolas was leaning over the bowl and retching. Fairnathad's unfazed expression told Thranduil that this had been going on for a while. The healer calmly held Legolas' hair out of his face, though he did not appear to be bringing anything up. Still the dry-heaving continued for several moments until Legolas finally leaned back again, still swallowing. Fairnathad took the bowl out of his lap and handed him a damp cloth. Legolas pressed it to his face and moaned loudly.

Thranduil crossed the room hesitantly and stood next to Fairnathad. His son was clearly suffering, but Thranduil's relief at seeing him awake and upright almost drowned out any compassion he felt. "Legolas –"

There was no reaction to his quiet half-question, nor any sign that his son was aware of his presence.

The healer said nothing for a moment, radiating the same resentful energy as Galion. Thranduil waited, trying to appear humble. Fairnathad, however annoyed or angry he was, would be quicker to relent than Galion, of that he was sure.

"I have tried giving him something for the nausea, but he won't keep anything down", he murmured finally, without looking at Thranduil.

Thranduil nodded. "Fever?", he asked quietly.

Fairnathad shrugged. "It has been rising and falling."

"'M fine", Legolas forced out into the cloth still pressed to his face, as the door opened and Galion joined them. "My fault."

"Yes, well", Thranduil's valet commented drily. "Good sense always did run in the family." He stepped up to Thranduil and folded his arms, arching an eyebrow at him discontentedly. Thranduil ignored him and sat down on the bed next to his son.

He placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry, Legolas", he said quietly. "I should not have –"

"It's fine, Ada", Legolas muttered, taking the cloth off his eyes. He looked utterly wretched, pale and clammy, but managed to glare at them quite fiercely. "I hope you're all enjoying the show", he spat irritably before leaning forward into the cloth in his hands. His torso rocked back and forth in obvious misery, but Thranduil was reassured that he appeared to be suffering mostly from the after-effects of overindulgence and did not, at least, appear to be in any immediate danger. He supposed that was the best he could hope for.

Galion was still looking at him pointedly. "You have been being asked after all morning", he huffed.

Thranduil looked at Fairnathad. "Could you –"

"Yes, yes", Fairnathad muttered, waving an impatient hand. This was about as close as the healer ever got to disrespecting the king. He and Galion must have had words in his absence. Thranduil sighed, thanked him quietly and followed Galion out of the room, deciding to deal with his friend's displeasure later.

And he was going to ignore Galion's mood too.

"I must speak with Avornion", he told his valet, once the door was shut behind them. "And with Beleghîr."

"That is a happy coincidence", Galion replied, nettles in his voice. "As they both wish to speak with you also. I will let them know that you are now available." He eyed Thranduil's tunic distastefully. "You may want to reconsider your attire while I do so." He gestured over at the robes he had hung on a stand in the corner.

Thranduil rolled his eyes, but quickly washed up and put on the fresh set of formal robes and his crown, adorned with fresh green leaves and bright flowers (wherever on Arda they had managed to scavenge those), while Galion was away. He waited in his study, leaning against the edge of his desk, for his valet to return, trying to rub the weariness out of his eyes.

Galion arrived a few moments later with Avornion and Beleghîr in tail. Avornion, as expected, wanted to discuss the arrival of a delegation from a nearby settlement of woodsmen that his people traded with and had therefore been invited to the Midsummer festivities, as well as the continued absence of their main trade partners, the people of Laketown, which they agreed, although they had had no official word, must be due to rumors of the renewed threat of Dol Guldur. His second in command, while not as openly hostile as Galion, did display a small measure of irritation at the king's unexplained disappearance on one of the most important days of the year in terms of diplomacy, so Thranduil forced himself to stay patient and at least feign interest as he listened to what he had to say before segwaying over to the matter of the approaching party he had sensed through the forest. Beleghîr listened, showing no reaction, but Avornion stared at him incredulously.

"Elves?", Avornion repeated disbelievingly.

Thranduil nodded. "I believe so."

"How many? From where?"

"I cannot say either with any certainty", Thranduil admitted. "But they are approaching from the west, and there is really only one likely option where they could be from."

"Imladris."

"Presumably."

Avornion folded his arms and frowned thoughtfully, apparently considering what sort of reaction was appropriate for this information. Thranduil was unsure of that himself. He turned to Beleghîr.

"I will not have us be approached unawares, or give them any reason to think their arrival was not anticipated", he said. "They are to be met by a patrol and accompanied back here, if indeed that is where they are headed. I realize that I gave you leave to reduce the border patrols during the celebrations, but that also means you must have enough soldiers here to send out a company. I trust your people will understand."

Beleghîr showed no surprise. "Aye, aran-nîn", he said. "In that case I would request your permission to ride out with the patrol, unless I am needed here?"

"Do what you must to ensure that the traveling party is adequately met", Thranduil said. "Do not give them more information than necessary, you are to escort them only. You may begin preparations immediately, Commander." He made an offhand dismissive gesture.

Beleghîr looked at him for a moment longer before inclining his head and turning to leave; he looked like he had something to add, but Thranduil suspected that whatever it was had less to do with his orders than with his son, and did not ask the commander to elaborate. He turned back to Avornion as the door fell shut.

"I want the council informed", he said. "And find somebody to take charge of the party once they arrive, and make sure they have a clear idea of what is and is not the business of outsiders. I assume they will want to know about the situation at Dol Guldur, and our dealings with it, but nobody is to discuss anything of note until I have met with them and determined their purpose. If there is conversation, I would like them to focus on gleaning information, rather than sharing it. At least until we know what they want."

Avornion nodded slowly, tapping his crested hands against his chin in concentration. "I will take care of it", he said. "You should get ready to meet with the woodsmen, I will send them to the throne halls shortly. Aran-nîn."

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of diplomacy and preparation for the continuation of the festivities. Thranduil darted restlessly from one engagement to the next, struggling to pay attention while his thoughts strayed elsewhere. Once he managed to make time to check in on Legolas, who had mercifully fallen back asleep. He watched his son for a minute or so, his pale face slack and smooth in a deep slumber that made Thranduil certain Fairnathad had finally managed to get him to keep something down. Poppy, by the looks of it. His eyes were shut, as they always were now in sleep, even without the drugs. Thranduil realized that he had gotten used to it, hardly noticed it anymore, but he never should have. He should never have let it go on for this long. The small sliver of hope for a solution that had been gnawing at his thoughts since he had sensed the strangers tried to resurface, but he forbade himself from indulging it. Not yet. Not until he was sure. He returned to his thankfully distracting duties.

Talk of trade policy and military cooperation flowed seamlessly into the second evening of festivities. It was an immense effort for Thranduil to maintain a courteous and attentive appearance while battling weariness and distraction, but he was mindful of his wine intake and managed to put on a better performance than the previous evening. Avornion mercifully did most of the talking, he would have to remember to thank him later. Meanwhile, the king's mind was free to drift as long as he maintained a composed exterior.

They were close now. Even with the music and mingled voices surrounding him, the trees' agitation was loud. Thranduil leaned into it, trying to find out more exactly –

"Dance with me." A quiet, musical voice in his ear startled him out of his reverie. Thranduil turned and looked over his shoulder into the flushed face and deep dark eyes of Tawaren. His stomach lurched.

She reminded him of Elloth, as she so often did. Not because they were alike, but because they had been so close. It was what had made him crave and seek out her company after his wife's death, but also what often, increasingly over the years, made him avoid spending more time with her than necessary. Tawaren knew this, he was certain, as she always seemed to know everything without ever having to be told in so many words, and usually limited their interactions to Legolas-related things. These had naturally grown a lot fewer once the prince had reached adulthood, but because she and Legolas had kept up their close, near-familial relationship, she was also still very much a part of their lives. But always, with Thranduil, at a certain distance.

So her asking him to dance was surprising. What was even more surprising was how much he wanted to.

Thranduil blinked, his weary, overburdened mind giving in to his disoriented state. He allowed his body to take over. Numbly he rose and let her take his arm, murmuring some automatic excuses in the direction of his companions.

She led him past the fires that were blazing all around the edges of the clearing where the banquet tables were set out and into the shelter of the surrounding trees, where the people were dancing to the music of the group of harpists, lutists and singers that carried in twining, curling waves through the maze of trunks and branches.

Tawaren turned to face him, moving close and placing her hands on his arms below his shoulders. His own moved to her back, just above her waist, in a disconcertingly automatic gesture. He had not held or danced with anyone in so long that he was astounded that he even remembered how. It felt strange, but mostly familiar and comforting. They began to sway softly to the music, falling into rhythm with the crowd around them. The top of her head barely came up to his chin. Like Elloth's.

Light and shadows flickered eerily with the nearby flames as they danced. The uneven dimness, the hazy quality of air and sound, the cradling sensation of bodies moving all around him. The song thrummed loudly through him; warm and strong and full and sad. The beat of the woods. He let his fae go out to it.

Tawaren tipped her head up towards him. Her loose dark curls spilled down over her shoulders, glinting auburn in the light of the fire. Her mouth twitched into a half-smile.

"I hear you went missing", she said, looking into both his eyes in turn. She watched him shrewdly for a moment. Thranduil made no reply. It was not a question.

"Did you go where I think you went?"

He felt a slight pang at her words, yet it was nothing like the pain that had assaulted him the night before. The blow was softened, numbed, whether by his level of weariness or his recently spent grief he did not know, but suddenly he found the all-encompassing despair that usually threatened to engulf him if his thoughts strayed too far toward his wife replaced with a simple longing for comfort.

"Probably", he answered softly. He was certain that Tawaren, with her uncanny senses, knew exactly where he had been. She and Elloth had been almost like sisters, and she was one of the few who had known about the tree where they had spent so much of their courtship and marriage. She had taken Thranduil and Legolas there for a private memorial once Thranduil had healed enough; she knew what that place meant. Knew what the loss of Elloth still meant. And for the first time in so many years, Thranduil was glad to be able to share that.

Tawaren's eyes were sad, but her smile widened. "Good", she said simply, and Thranduil's head dropped forward until their brows were resting against each other, knocking his crown to the ground. They held each other tightly as they continued to rock gently to and fro, melting into the crowd and the music and the trees until Thranduil could no longer tell where he began and ended. He was of the forest, he was of Arda, and so was Elloth. So was Legolas.

Time blurred. Thranduil would have stayed that way all night he was sure, but eventually the murmurs of the trees again grew strong enough to reclaim his attention. The strangers had arrived.

Tawaren had felt it too. She lifted her head, making Thranduil raise his, and looked up at him.

"It is going to be alright", she said. "No matter what happens."

"Yes", Thranduil murmured, and actually believed it.

"Legolas will be alright. And so will you."

"Legolas has to go", he murmured, and never had the realization dawned on him so fully, and accompanied by so much certainty and so little pain.

"Yes. But he will not be gone. None of us are ever gone."

Tawaren took up a strand of his hair and twisted it idly into one of her own, silvery white standing out against dark auburn in the firelight.

"You are not alone in this, Thranduil", she said softly. "So many of us know well what you are feeling. Do not keep it all to yourself."

"Alright", Thranduil whispered.

They swayed together for one last moment. Thranduil was reluctant to leave, but the trees were muttering agitatedly.

"I have to go", he said, pulling away gently.

"Yes", said Tawaren, giving him one last squeeze before releasing her hold on his arms. Her crooked smile was warm. "Let us hope for good tidings." With that, she dropped her arms to her side, gave him a small wave, and then turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Thranduil to pick up his crown and weave his way back towards the clearing, slightly bewildered by this unexpected meeting.

He spotted Beleghîr waiting for him by his seat at the head of the table. He was flanked by Avornion and appeared to have arrived there only moments ago. He looked serious, as he usually did, but Thranduil could find no signs of imminent bad news in his demeanor. Avornion once again looked mildly annoyed at the king's absence, which Thranduil found even more reassuring. It also served to assure him that his already unreal-seeming encounter with Tawaren had actually taken place.

"Aran-nîn", Avornion addressed him with a slight air of self-importance. "They have arrived. As you suspected, a small host of travelers from Imladris, led by the sons of Elrond Peredhel."

Thranduil sucked in his breath and released it slowly. Providence.

"Where are they now?"

"Galion is showing them to their quarters, and those in need of medical attention to the healing halls. They send their apologies for the late intrusion, it seems they were waylaid by spiders and had to make haste to get those of their company that were bitten treatment."

Thranduil nodded. It was very late, far too late to be meeting with uninvited travelers. He would have to be content for now with the information that it was indeed a company from Imladris who had crossed their borders for now. The sons of Elrond, no less, which was more than he had dared to hope for. Not that he would be telling them that, he had officially ended diplomatic relations with the Imladrians years ago; but it seemed that something was at last working in their favor. Perhaps that would be enough to let him find rest that night.

"Hannon dhe , Avornion, Commander", he said quietly. "I want the sons of Lord Elrond brought to my study tomorrow. As soon as is reasonable."

oOo

enderi - three days between the end of June and the beginning of July

Hannon dhe - I thank you (plural)

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There's one more chapter left to wrap up this part of the story, then I'll be able to say more about the sequel, which is already running rampant in my head ... I just hope my fingers will manage to catch up. I've been insanely busy and sadly, the moments where I want to write and the moments where I actually have time to write haven't been overlapping very much lately, but I'll get there. Thanks to everybody still reading this, and to everyone who lets me know your thoughts! All feedback is much appreciated :)