~Thranduil and his friends explore their children's new home. Meanwhile, Lasriel makes a shocking discovery.~

~♕~

"Love is a song that never ends."

– Bambi

~♕~

34. A Discovery

"What do you mean, 'away'?" Thranduil frowned at the foreman. He was tired and in pain and had traveled for weeks, and now he was told his son wasn't even there. "He has a forest to tend to; he should not leave newly planted trees unattended."

"He knows he can trust us to take care of everything while he is gone," said Taurandir patiently. "With all the new workers Galadriel sent from Lothlórien we have plenty of able hands, and the dwarves do not need supervision to dig ditches. It is an important meeting Legolas is invited to; Lord Ereb is wealthy and we can really use his help."

"Alright, alright. When will he be back then?"

"His wife and he left the day before yesterday so I do not expect them for at least a couple of weeks." He pointed at the largest house, the only painted one. "That is their house. There are several spare rooms; I am sure you can stay there in the meantime."

There was not much to do but to follow his advice. Disappointed, Thranduil and Nimrodel picked up their bags and went toward the white building.

"Would you look at this street," she said, wrinkling her nose. "It feels like walking through a plowed field."

"Aye, an absolute disgrace."

"And the house does not have windows. What is it even made of?"

"Clay bricks!" Glóin joined them, face red with annoyance. "A modern idea from that dwarf my son is courting. He just explained how all these houses are constructed – and had the nerve to sound proud about it, too! What's wrong with stone? It was good enough for my ancestors; it should be good enough for my son and his lover too."

"I agree." Thranduil thought about his cavern halls back home, with their airy halls and beautiful pillars.

"Or at least they could have used timber," said Nimrodel. "Clay is just so... un-elvish."

They went inside and put their luggage down in the kitchen. Glóin gave the rickety table a light shove. "This looks like a child built it – with his eyes covered."

"The sink must be Lasriel's design." Nimrodel examined the water pump, and then caught sight of the bookshelves in the next room. "Oh, they have a library! But it is lacking a carpet and comfortable chairs; the room does not feel very lived in."

"The bathroom is nice, though," Thranduil remarked, looking inside. Seeing the big tub, he couldn't help imagining himself and Nimrodel in it. Naked, slippery with soap, relaxed in the warm water.

If only...

Since they gave in to their feelings and began to kiss each other, Thranduil had that kind of fantasies increasingly often, always accompanied with a pang of envy of other couples who could act on their longing and go all the way with the one they loved. Why must he be an elf? Rebirth was a curse, not a blessing, for it would eventually force him to live unhappily ever after with Mithrellas.

Frustrated, he turned his back to the bathroom. "Let us explore the second floor."

Upstairs they found four rooms. One must be Legolas' and Lasriel's, the others were empty.

"Can I stay in this house too, you think?" asked Glóin. "My son and his workers sleep in tents but I'm rather tired of camping by now."

"I am sure Legolas would not mind," said Thranduil. "Good thing there are three spare rooms."

"Don't you two wanna share?" He smirked.

"I wish," murmured Nimrodel, so quietly only Thranduil heard.

"That would not be proper," he said. "We do not know when our children will return, and if they found out we..." He shuddered.

"Oh." Glóin's smirk waned. "Seems so unfair, though. Caught in a marriage to someone you don't love, and unable to be with the one that you do."

Nimrodel sighed. "It is what it is, and not much we can do about it. But look, there is another stair; let us see where it leads."

It turned out to lead to a flat roof, square with a smooth railing, and a pot of heather in each corner adding a bit of life. In the middle was a tower with a built-in brick bench encircling its outer wall.

Thranduil leaned against the railing. Legolas had been busy; there were forest plantations all the way to the sloping mountain range bordering Mordor. The uneven peaks looked peaceful now, with no dark clouds hovering above them and no sullen volcanic light illuminating the sky.

He had been in that land once, a very long time ago during the War of the Last Alliance. Back then, Ithilien was still covered in ancient forests and he had passed through lush gardens tended by entwives on his way south. His father had died in that war, just outside the Black Gate of Mordor, as had his mother, and almost everybody else. Years later when the Dark Lord was finally defeated, Amroth and Thranduil led the surviving Sindar and Silvan elves back to Lothlórien and Greenwood and became kings over their decimated, broken people. Even with all the elflings born later, their realms had never become as prosperous as they once were.

"The view is breathtaking!" Nimrodel exclaimed, interrupting his bleak memories. "Now I want to look at it from the tower. Do you think we will be able to see the sea?"

"I'll stay here," said Glóin. He had seated himself on the bench just by the door, as far away from the railing as he could get.

"You are afraid of heights?" Thranduil tried to hold back an amused smile.

"Absolutely not. I'm just not particularly fond of them."

"Didn't you used to live in a mountain? There must be plenty of shafts in Erebor."

"Why do you think I moved out?"

The tower had a circular stair leading up to a roofed platform with slim pillars and a similar railing as below. There was a similar brick bench too, this one with cushions, perfect to sit on while admiring the view.

Thranduil did so, putting his non-broken arm around Nimrodel when she joined him.

"I love this," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I cannot see the sea, but the forest plantations and the mountains are lovely."

"The sunset is not too bad either." To the west, the Anduin gleamed in amber tones from the evening sun, and at the other side he saw the rich fields, terraces and meadows of Pelennor. Beyond them, Minas Tirith sparkled like a jewel below Mount Mindolluin, matching the color of its snow-capped peak.

"I like this view even more." She looked up at him. "Has anyone ever told you how attractive you are, Thranduil?"

"You should talk... I would kiss you breathless if we had not been out here in the open where people might see."

"Then let us do it later." Her eyes were full of the same longing he felt.

They stayed on the bench until the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, mostly in silence, full of their own thoughts. Then they returned down to Glóin and the three of them shared a simple meal of what was left of their travel food before making themselves comfortable in the guest rooms.

Thranduil had almost fallen asleep when there was a soft knock on his door. "I could not sleep and had an idea. May I come in?"

"Of course."

Nimrodel entered and sat at the foot of his bed. "I was thinking about this house, and the sorry state of the colony and all that, and then I thought why not make the place nicer for our children while they are away? I could dig flower beds around the house and buy seeds for them in Osgiliath, and with more pots I can create a lovely roof garden up there."

"That is a good idea; making use of the waiting time." Thranduil tried not to look at the contours of her nipples through the thin nightgown.

"Exactly. And I can buy curtains for the windows, and more carpets. Making it a bit more comfortable."

"M-hm."

"Perhaps Glóin and you could get paving stones for the streets. Don't you think that would give the colony a lift?"

Thranduil could not hide his desire anymore. Pulling her into his lap, he gave her a heated kiss. "Do you expect me to be able to think about paving stones and curtains when you sit in my bed in an almost transparent nightgown?" he asked huskily.

Her only reply was to kiss him back, intensifying it. She pressed herself against his hardness and hummed approvingly when he slid her nightgown up so he could caress the soft skin of her thighs.

He longed to tear the garment off completely and make passionate love to her until she screamed with pleasure. Then he would continue at a slower pace, with languid, long strokes, keeping eye-contact so she could see in his eyes how much he loved her.

With difficulty he dispelled the vivid images and ended the kiss. "We should try to get some sleep," he whispered.

When he was alone a while later he banged his fist against the headboard, nearly getting himself another broken limb in the process. Why must he be an elf? Why was he already married?

Life was not fair.

~♕~

Legolas rode next to her, humming to himself and looking unusually relaxed. Whenever their eyes met he smiled, and she smiled back, and probably they both looked rather silly – but who cared? Galion and Nellas looked equally silly and every night the sounds from their tent betrayed just how close they had become.

Not that Lasriel had much time to listen with Legolas in her arms and his lips against her own.

Lately, her heart was filled with a new emotion. She had liked Legolas for as long as she could remember, even when they were separated for so many years – or, at that time it had been almost like an obsession. She had thought what she felt then was love, but the feelings growing within her now were different. Nothing like the anxious, superficial infatuation she used to have, but deeper, more real.

The bond she had believed would form on the wedding night had not just miraculously popped into existence; instead they had forged it together, with time and patience and actually pretty hard work, too. Legolas had become not only her friend and her lover, but family. An extended part of herself that she couldn't do without.

And for the first time she knew what true love felt like.

In the tent that night, she tried to explain her feelings: "I used to think you were so perfect. Flawless. Like a Vala, almost."

"You were not wrong," he deadpanned.

She tried not to smile but failed. "I am trying to be serious here."

"Sorry."

"Well, so I had made this picture of you in my head, and dreamed of how our marriage would be, and of course nothing turned out like I had thought. But strangely, the more I have gotten to know you recently – flaws and all – the more I like you, because now I know the real you. You have become my best friend again." She gave him a light kiss. "With benefits."

"Benefits, indeed." Then his face turned sincere. "Mellon nín... meleth nín, I should have been a better husband from the beginning."

Her breath caught. Though she knew he cared about her, he had never straight out called her his  "love" before.

She took his hand and kissed his calloused palm. "You couldn't know what kind of husband to be, because I hid how I felt and what I wanted," she said softly.

"Still, I shouldn't have taken you for granted. I was flattered that you seemed attracted to me, and I did like you, but perhaps not that way. It wasn't until I felt I had lost your affection I truly began to realize how much it meant to me. How much you meant to me. That time in Minas Tirith... I acted like an idiot, but it was because I was so afraid to lose you to those men. I saw the way they looked at you and became jealous. Not my proudest moment."

"I shouldn't have sneaked away without telling you where I went. But you shouldn't have tried to dictate what I could or couldn't do."

"You are right."

"Well, we have learned our lessons. I will not go behind your back, you will not decide things for me, and even if we fail sometimes we know how to talk things through and make up. Because now we care." She kissed his palm again. "Meleth nín." Saying those words made her heart beat a bit faster.

"Oh Lasriel... You are so beautiful, inside and out. I am blessed to be married to you." He drew her closer, slanting his head so he could kiss her in earnest.

The mood in the tent swiftly went from tender to passionate. Lasriel forgot everything from the Haradrim book and let her body take command, giving in completely to Legolas kisses and caresses, not even minding if Galion and Nellas heard her moans.

She crawled on top of him, sinking down on his hardness. She was in control now, setting the pace. Taking her pleasure while giving it at the same time.

"Sweet Elbereth, you should see yourself," he murmured, looking at her with adoration in his eyes. "You are perfect."

"Nay." She smiled down at his flushed face and mussy hair. "I am flawed."

~♕~

"You know, we are almost in Pelargir now, yet I haven't seen even the slightest trace of a pirate." Lasriel smiled smugly at Legolas.

"Better safe than sorry," he countered. "I don't regret taking our fastest horses."

"Look, a seagull," said Nellas.

They all turned their heads to watch the white bird circling the sky. Though Lasriel had only caught a glimpse of the sea that time in the old tower in Osgiliath, the sight of the bird gave her a mental image of a vast, blue landscape, and again the irrational longing to sail west filled her.

"I wonder if we can see the ocean from Tolfalas," said Galion in a dreamy voice. His gaze had become distant.

"It is a pretty bird." Nellas seemed completely unaffected.

They continued. The road was more crowded now and they passed several wagons full of loaded barrels. Judging by the smell, they carried salted fish and other seafood to sell in Minas Tirith and Osgiliath.

At Pelargir it became even more busy. Many of the bypassers were dressed in black and silver uniforms – guards from Minas Tirith, who Legolas said were stationed in the nearby citadel to protect the river from Corsair raids.

Nellas gave the city gate a suspicious look. "I am not going in there," she declared.

"You don't have to," said Legolas. "We are headed to a town further down the river where there is a ferry to Tolfalas."

"Good. Towns are better than cities. Less stone."

After Pelargir the road was less wide, and not as well kept. It meandered through hilly terrain with weirdly shaped pines, bent by the everpresent wind from the sea, and along the road grew fragrant yellow flowers with tiny bells.

"Mallos," said Legolas. "They grow in Lebennin too."

Then they ascended a particularly steep hill and a new view suddenly opened up before them. They stopped at the crest, awestruck at the sight of open sea ahead.

"So that is what it looks like," breathed Galion, eyes wide with wonder.

"It is beautiful."

"Big and blue." Nellas shrugged.

This close to its mouth, the Anduin had become wide as a lake, with long strips of sand splitting it into several distributaries. They ended where the sea began, and in the center of the delta was a dark island.

The realm of the mysterious Lord Ereb.

In the evening they reached the ferry town. The buildings were mostly small and gray, with long nets drying in the wind outside. Other nets were being mended by weathered old fishermen and their families. The fish smell was prominent and they saw several more gulls, especially when they passed a large pile of fish waste and other garbage.

After asking around in the town, they learned that the ferry to Tolfalas would leave at dawn the next morning, and the journey to the island would take around six hours. The return trip took twice as long because it would then be upstreams.

They spent the night in an inn that was neither clean, nor comfortable. Lasriel would have gladly exchanged their room for the tent, but here in the town that had probably looked strange.

In the morning they boarded the wide vessel together with a crowd of chattering people and noisy animals, trying to make room for themselves among the many crates and barrels.

"I had imagined boats to be a bit more... I don't know, elegant?" Lasriel gripped the railing to keep herself steady when the ferry took off in a splashing of oars.

"You should have seen the Corsair warships we conquered during the war," said Legolas. "This is tiny in comparison."

The boat was not only small, it was extremely wobbly too. Though the water was calm it swayed from side to side until Lasriel felt like her entrails would jump out of her mouth.

"Look at the coast," Nellas instructed. "Focusing on something still makes you feel better."

If Legolas was nauseous too, he didn't say. The further away from land they got, the more quiet he became. His eyes were locked at the blue line separating the sky from the ocean on either side of the island.

After a few hours, Lasriel had had enough of his brooding silence. She ducked under his arm and put her own around his waist. "There is no hurry to sail there."

He smiled faintly. "I know."

"We have a forest to restore."

Finally he tore his gaze from the horizon. "I know. I am not going to sail without you, but I appreciate your concern." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I will never leave you, meleth nín."

"We are almost there now." Galion came over to them. "There are some people waiting in the harbor. Do you think one of them is our host?"

Lasriel curiously scanned the small crowd. Many appeared to be dockworkers and servants, but maybe that tall man in the middle was...

Then she recognized him and became ice cold. No. It couldn't be. He should be in Aman!

For, the man was not a man, but an elf. Lasriel's father.

A/N:

Thank you for your comments and votes! And sorry for repaying with repeated cliffhangers. ;)

Translations: Mellon nín = my friend, meleth nín = my love. (note the accent over the "i", without it "nin" means me instead of my.)