~Legolas receives a request and tries to figure out why his father so badly wants an heir.~

~♕~

"The heart is not so easily changed
but the head can be persuaded."

– Pabbie, Frozen

~♕~

4. Persuaded

He felt more than a slight tingle in his fingers; in fact, the surrounding forest was starting to spin a little. Glancing at Gimli's slumped form beside him, Legolas couldn't help chuckling silently to himself. The dwarf was resilient but wine from Dorwinion was exceptionally potent.

For his own part, Legolas was pleasantly drunk; just enough to numb his senses and make him think happy thoughts. It was a fine balance between that state and having so much he became melancholic.

This was a good place to have a drink in. The feast area was still abandoned so they had the clearing to themselves, and after the night's rain the air smelled nice; damp earth mingling with the tangy scent of pine. He drew in a deep breath. It was good to be back in the forest. Good to be home – though, to him, any forest felt like home.

A lone figure emerged from the direction of the palace and made his way between the tables, heading straight towards Legolas in a determined stride. His father, of course.

"There you are, finally!" Thranduil exclaimed with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I looked all morning."

For some reason Legolas found that very funny and had to bite his lip to contain his laughter. "We wanted fresh air," he replied.

"Mmm, fresh," Gimli muttered into his beard. His head had fallen forward and was half covered by his helmet. Even now, in peacetime, he wore it all the time.

Thranduil sniffed the air, dark eyebrows drawing together. "Have you been drinking? At this hour?" He eyed their now empty cups.

His badly hidden displeasure was hilarious too. Struggling to maintain a serious face, Legolas replied: "I had promised Master Gimli we would share a few cups but the rain put a stop to it. So we returned today."

"Returned, aye." Gimli tried to focus his eyes on Thranduil. "My king, I must compliment you. The wine you serve is deschil– delishy– uh, lovely."

"Thank you," he replied curtly. "Legolas, I need to speak with you. Preferably in private?"

"Oh, I don't keep secrets from Gimli." He patted the dwarf's back. "We are friends. What do you want to talk about?"

After a brief hesitation, his father replied: "Heirs."

"Heirs?" Legolas peered at him, feeling the pleasant tipsiness wane. "As in... your heirs?"

"Precisely." He sat down on the bench beside them, steepling his fingers in a businesslike manner. "My heirs. The ones I do not have – apart from you, of course."

"What about them?"

"Well, to beget heirs one would need a wife."

Legolas wished he had another cup of Dorwinion handy; this was becoming surreal. "I am familiar with the procedure and know an elleth must be involved, aye." Then a thought struck him and he sat up straighter. "Are you considering marrying someone new? But that is impossible!"

"Is it?" asked Gimli, looking more awake, clearly intrigued by the topic.

"Aye. With one, ancient exception, elves never remarry," he explained. "If Adar married another he would have two wives when he eventually joins my naneth in the Undying lands. Unheard of!"

"Makes sense for immortals, I suppose." Gimli looked a bit disappointed. "Then I should probably stop thinking about the fair Lady I met..."

"I was not talking about my marriage," Thranduil cut in. "But yours."

"Mine?" Gimli blinked slowly.

Thranduil got a pained expression. "My son's."

Legolas stared at him, finally adding the clues together. The elleth – the betrothal – marriage – heirs... babies.

"I was thinking," his father continued, "if you had a wife, maybe you could beget one or two heirs before you sail? Just for the sake of the succession, of course."

"And this wife would be..."

"Lasriel, aye. Your childhood friend! She has grown up to become a pretty maid, has she not?"

He recalled the soaking wet elleth dropping from a tree. "Uh, if you say so..."

"No need to decide yet; you have plenty of time to think about it." He rose, brushing an invisible speck from his coat. "I shall see you at supper." Glancing at Gimli, he added: "Hopefully sobered up."

When he had left, Legolas shared a bewildered look with his friend.

"Well, that was unexpected," said the dwarf.

"Quite." Legolas looked around for something to drink and spotted a half-full barrel on the next table. He refilled their cups.

"I shouldn't," said Gimli and took a sip.

"Probably me neither." Legolas drained his own, feeling warmth spread through his veins. "I wonder why Adar suddenly wants heirs? He never mentioned it before."

"Feeling old?" he suggested. "No," he quickly added. "Immortal. Keep forgetting." He thought a bit more. "Perhaps he just really likes children?"

"Perhaps." But Legolas wasn't convinced. If his father had loved children so much he would have talked about it and suggested a marriage earlier. There was something else behind this, something Thranduil was withholding. But what?

He had emptied another cup when he finally figured it out. "Of course," he exclaimed triumphantly. "How stupid I am." Unsteadily, he leaned closer to Gimli and explained in a conspiratorial voice: "Adar's afraid to be lonely, you see; that's why he wants a grandchild. Someone to keep close."

"Ahhh. Could have fooled me. He doesn't look like the clingy type..."

"Oh, he is. Trust me, I know from experience. He always kept me close like a... something you keep close. When I grew up, I couldn't do anything. Ever. Like these trees here..." He made a sweeping gesture, nearly smacking Gimli's helmet off. "I'm older than most of 'em. But the way I was treated it's like he thought I was a... very young tree. Baby tree."

"That's dads for you." Gimli burped. "Mine refused to let me fight the dragon. Said I was too young. I was bloody sixty-two!"

"Yes! Exactly." He nodded but quickly stopped; the motion made the surroundings reel. "Mine forbade me to join the Battle of Five Armies after the dragon was dead. He's so protective. I had to go on the quest with you people to make him understand I'm grown up." Warm affection blossomed in his heart thinking of how relieved his father had looked when he returned. "It's sweet, kind of. Annoying, but sweet... Want another cup?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime, my friend." He put his arm around Gimli's shoulder, hugging him. "Ada has no best friend like I do. He's a lonely king."

"Poor lad. I mean, dad." He returned the hug.

"Aye." Legolas was beginning to feel sentimental. Best not have a fourth cup. "And that's why I'll give him an heir."

"You will?" Gimli's bushy eyebrows shot up. "With Tree Lass?"

"Aye." He smiled, pleased with his decision. "She won't climb trees when we're married, I'm sure. Remember in Gondor after the war, all those lords and city people we dined with? There'd always be a wife there, looking pretty and making it nice in the house and such."

"This lass doesn't strike me as one of them wives exactly..."

"Then I'll ask her if she wants to be a Gondor wife," he replied. "Ha! She'll have to be if she wants to marry me because I'll move to Gondor. Ithilien is in Gondor, you know."

"I know."

"She wanted to marry me when we were little." He chuckled at the memory. "At least with her it'll be someone I know, no nasty surprises." He rose, grabbing Gimli's shoulder to steady himself. "Let's go tell Adar the good news."

~♕~

A few hours later, Legolas groaned and rubbed his aching head, fighting a wave of nausea. He hoped his supper would behave and stay down.

What had he done?

Not the drink, that had been fun and worth a little discomfort, but the other part? He had agreed to marry an elleth and beget an elfling, for the love of Elbereth!

What should he do now?

Groaning louder, he put a pillow over his face. By all the fires of Mordor, this would be an ordeal. He had faced giant spiders, wolves, trolls, balrogs, orcs, oliphaunts, brutish men – but this was uncharted territory. Now he would have to face a wife.

~♕~

The days after the Elvenking's visit passed slowly. Lasriel spent them in her favorite oak, keeping out of sight of her mother and reading books to pass the time – and to distract herself from endlessly poring over whether Thranduil was home yet, or what his son thought of her proposal, or what his answer would be.

When she had to go inside to eat or sleep, there was an unpleasant silence between mother and daughter. Thuriniel was not angry, but downcast and disappointed – and that was a lot worse. Lasriel didn't know what to do besides apologizing again and again, which she knew wouldn't make anything better.

In addition, she could not honestly say she was sorry for what she had done. In the past, when money ran scarce and their neighbors had bought all the flowers they needed, Lasriel had to seek a new market. Lake-town was such a small, safe town, and everyone else in the village traded there so she could easily hitch a ride and travel swiftly by raft.

Thuriniel was afraid to be recognized if they left their home, but nobody knew Lasriel. It wasn't fair to keep her pent up all her life.

As for the trip to the capital, that had perhaps been rash and a tiny bit dangerous, but what if it led to a dream coming true? If Legolas accepted, Lasriel would soon have a family of her own. She couldn't regret taking that chance; she just couldn't.

When a little over a week had passed, two ellyn rode into the village from the direction of the palace; one on a white horse, one straddling a huge elk. Legolas and Thranduil!

Breath catching, Lasriel watched them from her high vantage point. Legolas had been handsome in a dancing circle, but he was even more attractive as a warrior on horseback with a longbow and quiver strapped across his back.

A huge wave of happiness and excitement blossomed in her chest. He wouldn't have come here in person unless he had agreed to her suggestion. Believe it or not, this stunning ellon would be hers!

But this time she must not repeat the mistake from the party and meet him in wet rags. Swiftly climbing down, she sneaked around the house and went in through the back door.

In a flutter of nerves she changed into her best dress and hurriedly combed her hair until it shone, all the while anxiously listening to sounds from outside.

When she heard hooves on gravel she was nearly done. Wishing she had time to ask her mother to plait her hair, Lasriel applied homemade rose essence behind her ears and pinched her cheeks to give them color.

There was a knock on the door.

She took a deep breath. This was it.

Heart beating violently, Lasriel flounced out to greet the guests with all the grace and elegance she could muster.

A/N:

Awkward tête-à-tête coming up. :)

Thanks for reads, comments and votes so far! I appreciate the support a lot.

Oh, and on another note, I'm Swedish and have no beta reader which means there can be weird word choices and errors sometimes. If you see something looking off, I appreciate being told so I can change it.