~Legolas travels to Ithilien and Thranduil invites Lasriel and her mother to live in the capital until the wedding. An intimate supper gets slightly out of hand.~

~♕~

"Anyone could see that the Prince
was charming. The only one for me."

– Snow White

~♕~

8. Engaged

It was a perfect day for a feast outdoors; mild sunlight beamed through rose-tinted clouds and the glade was packed with people under the lustrous trees. It was one of those vibrant autumn afternoons when the forest exploded in colors more splendid than any firework the great Mithrandir could have designed.

On the podium in the center of the opening, Legolas and Lasriel looked stunning together. As Thranduil watched them exchange rings his eyes became misty; this was such a romantic, beautiful moment and he was so happy for his son. Finally Legolas would have a partner who could be his equal, a friend who was not a dwarf.

The engagement rings were plain, yet – he hoped – elegant, shaped as leaf garlands to symbolize their matching names. In one year from now they would be substituted with wedding rings and he already had ideas for those as well: wide silver bands with large stones set in a leaf-formed head. But he would discuss his design with Thuriniel first, he had found she had great taste in jewelry.

Next to him, she looked proud and happy, but also a bit nervous to stand in such a crowd. He suppressed an urge to take her hand and press it; the bystanders might get the wrong idea and mistake their friendship for something else. Instead he sent her an encouraging smile.

She returned it. "It is done," she said, voice full of emotion. "They are engaged now."

"They are. Now all we have to do is wait."

"And plan the wedding." Her eyes lit up with expectant eagerness.

After the ceremony they took their seats around the high table, the parents on either side of the newly engaged couple, and soon the feast began.

Galion brought the wine, as usual walking a bit unsteadily, but before he could continue Thranduil caught his arm. "Just leave it here; someone else can serve. You need to start packing."

"Packing, my lord?"

"Packing, aye. You are one of the volunteers to go with Legolas to Ithilien."

The butler's and Legolas' eyebrows simultaneously shot up.

"Me?"

"Him?"

"Legolas needs a trustworthy servant and someone to help establish a wine cellar in the colony. I know I can count on you, Galion; your expertise on wine is renowned."

Galion blushed. "But my lord..."

"No need to worry; I have already arranged for a new butler to replace you here in Greenwood."

"As you wish." Looking rather morose, the butler stomped off.

"I don't need a butler," said Legolas.

"Me neither." Thranduil smirked. "I am tired of him looting my Dorwinion red."

"And so you make him my headache, I see. How convenient."

"The change of air will do him good, I am sure."

Legolas only shook his head and turned his focus on the food.

It became a rather quiet meal; both Legolas and Lasriel seemed lost in thought and Thuriniel appeared to be nervous again. Thranduil was relieved when it was time for the speeches.

He was quite fond of holding speeches, and since Thuriniel had asked to be allowed to abstain, he could make his own extra long. Splendid!

~♕~

On the podium the speeches began, the Elvenking's first, but despite how eloquent and beautiful he spoke – Thranduil really had a way with words – Lasriel found it impossible to focus. Her new ring felt cool on her finger, and her childhood sweetheart sat next to her – as her fiancé.

Time behaved strangely. It felt like a lot of it had passed between the kiss the other day and the exchanging of rings just now, but the feast and the speeches went past in a rush. And then it was over, the guests leaving, and Lasriel dizzily accepted their parting well wishes and goodbyes.

Was this all?

A light drizzle of rain began. The clearing quickly emptied until only the hosts, some leftover food and a few stray musicians remained.

"I will depart for Ithilien early tomorrow," said Legolas, pulling up his hood. "If there is anything you need me to bring back to the wedding, let me know. Perhaps some foreign foods or clothes? Jewelry?"

"I take care of the jewelry," said Thranduil. He was helping Thuriniel with her cloak.

"Aye, we will organize everything about the wedding," she agreed.

"Fine by me." Legolas turned to Lasriel. "I shall see you in a year, then." He bowed, hand across his chest.

"See you." She numbly repeated the gesture.

And then he was gone.

Lasriel looked down at her trembling finger with the pretty ring, feeling a knot form in her stomach. It was going to be a long year. And at the end of it – would she really have the kind of wedding she had dreamed of?

~♕~

Thuriniel had had many trials lately. First the terrifying announcement among all the people in the palace, then the crowded engagement ceremony, and now a couple of days afterwards came a third one: an invitation for Lasriel and her to move to the capital and stay there until the wedding.

Visiting the city had been bad enough; the mere thought of actually living in such a busy, bustling place was frightening.

Unsurprisingly Lasriel loved the idea. She had been rather morose and silent since her fiancé left and this was the first time she seemed excited about something again. "It is such a kind offer, and very sensible," she said. "Soon I shall move out and then you will be terribly alone, but in the city you can make new friends."

"I do not mind being alone."

"It will make it easier to plan the wedding too. Thranduil wants us to have weekly meetings."

"But why have them in the palace? He has his elk; it does not take him long to travel to our village."

Lasriel had no answer to that and Thuriniel breathed out in relief. Hopefully the subject would not come up again.

But alas, only the next day said elk trotted up to the house, bringing his master astride his back.

Thranduil lost no time; he promptly invited Thuriniel out for a walk.

"Can you ask your elk to stay out of the garden meanwhile?" She had not forgotten how he butchered her poor rose bushes the last time.

"Of course." His voice turned stern when he addressed the huge animal. "Padrandon, you heard her – the flowers are off limits."

Padrandon huffed and reluctantly walked over to a copse of hazels.

"Now, shall we go?" He offered his arm.

It turned out the walk was only an excuse for an earnest persuasion talk. Thranduil wanted her to move to the capital and he was obviously used to getting his way. Thuriniel soon found he was nowhere near as easy to withstand as her daughter; he easily countered all her objections.

"Why cannot we meet here?" she tried, allowing him to escort her to a secluded part of the garden.

"We need access to the feast hall. It has been out of use for a very long time, but with your help I can restore it to its former glory."

"But we could hold the wedding outdoors like we did the engagement feast."

"Too risky. It will be autumn then as well; it might rain."

"I cannot leave my poor garden for a whole year." She swept out with her hands, indicating the late-blooming flowers and small trees in beautiful leaf shrouds. "Do you want all my hard work to be ruined?"

"I can hire a gardener for you."

This could have continued for a long time, but before she could think of another reason not to go, Thranduil took her hands. "Mellon muin, I cannot stand the thought of you living out here all by yourself. It is not right. It never was. Please allow me to make up for all the years you have been unfairly exiled."

It was impossible to look away from his earnest gaze, especially after he had called her 'dear friend'. "Exiled? You are exaggerating," she said weakly.

"I am not. You became an outcast though you were innocent."

"Not quite innocent."

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

His sharp tone ignited a spark of worry and she almost wished she had kept her mouth shut. "Well, I... I knew how they felt, yet I did nothing to hinder it. I even... promoted it." Now she had no problem breaking eye-contact.

Thranduil dropped her hands. "Promoted it? But why?"

Her throat tightened at the disbelief in his voice and suddenly she became terrified of losing him as a friend. But she must be honest, he deserved that. "They loved each other. I-I wanted my best friend to be happy and figured... figured it would not hurt if I let them see each other at our place now and then. So I kept away whenever he came over. But then they took it so much further than just talking. I had no idea they would actually..." Her voice faltered.

When there was no reply, she stole a nervous glance his way. To her relief he didn't look angry, just thoughtful and sad.

"Galadriel was right to banish me as well as them," she said, recalling her former friend's furious scolding after she discovered the affair. Thuriniel had gotten a fair share of it too, though of course the wrongdoers had it worse.

"I disagree," he murmured. "It was still not your fault. But I wish you had told me what you suspected sooner, before it was too late... I knew Mithrellas did not love me, of course, but I never suspected she felt so strongly for him. I could have stopped it. Forbidden her to travel there... If I had, our families might still be whole."

Thuriniel looked at her fingers, clasping them tightly together in her lap. "I'm sorry. But do you really think our lives would have been better if we kept up that... charade?" Her husband's face formed in her mind, like he had usually looked when they were together: mouth turned down, forehead furrowed, eyes angry. They had argued nearly all the time, about anything big and small, and when they didn't argue there were long periods of sullen silence between them. "My marriage was never a happy one."

He was silent again and then sighed heavily. "Neither was mine. And perhaps you are right; continuing together would probably have brought us pain. Actually... right before my wife left me that last time, I suggested getting another child. A sibling to Legolas. She told me she needed more time and I believed her, but now... now I finally understand. If she loved another, she must have hated it whenever we were... eh... intimate."

She glanced at him again, noticing a slight blush on his pale skin.

"I feel like a fool for not realizing it," he continued. "And I feel horrible for... doing things to her she did not enjoy."

"You are no fool; she hid it well. And as for..." Thuriniel's cheeks were burning too now. "We were all in the same boat. We knew our duty and did what we had to," she murmured, recalling how little she had liked it herself.

"Our duty," he repeated. "Aye, we did what we had to." It sounded like he tried to persuade himself that was true.

After another moment of uncomfortable silence, where Thuriniel struggled to repress a wave of unhappy memories, Thranduil resolutely shook his head as if trying to clear his mind. "We are straying from the topic," he said in a businesslike tone. "I need you in the capital and I think you will learn to love it there. At least give it a try. If you dislike it you can just return."

Thuriniel was out of excuses and in addition felt guilty for her share in the disaster that sundered both their families. "Very well then," she reluctantly agreed. "But only until we have everything sorted with the wedding."

"Of course." His triumphant smirk indicated he believed it would be much longer than that.

~♕~

Once it was decided, the move went swiftly, and soon came the day the two ellith arrived on several loaded wagons. Apparently Thuriniel did not trust the gardener Thranduil had hired to take care of her flowers, for two of the wagons were crammed full of plants in various pots and buckets. The third contained the rest of their belongings, mostly books.

The house he had arranged for them was close to the palace, originally used as an armory by the Woodland Guard but now cleared out and turned into a nice cottage. Since the forest was becoming safer by the day he didn't need as many guards as before and could easily forgo the building.

"It is quite lovely," Thuriniel admitted as she stepped over the threshold, breathing in the smell of fresh paint and newly oiled wood floor.

"But no indoor pump." Lasriel critically examined the kitchen. "Or brick stove."

"You are free to change the house to your satisfaction," Thranduil offered.

Aided by a couple of palace servants they were soon busy carrying furniture and boxes inside and starting to unpack. As much as he had liked to help, Thranduil had other obligations during the afternoon, but before he left he invited the ellith to supper. He suspected they would soon be very tired and wanted to spare Thuriniel from cooking on top of everything.

At the appointed time, she arrived alone. "Lasriel asked me to excuse her; she was so busy with the pipes and the stove and everything."

"Ah, such a shame," he said, trying to sound disappointed though he didn't at all mind a tête-à-tête. "I will send a servant with a basket; she can eat while working."

She beamed at him. "You are too kind."

During the meal they talked about the upcoming year and Thranduil described his plans for the restoration of the old feast hall. "I am thinking of something similar to the court in the grand cavern, but with living trees instead of water lilies. The hall has light shafts too so it should work."

"Sounds beautiful! And I would love to provide you with saplings." Thuriniel told him about the many plants she had brought with her, describing each in fond detail. "But I wonder where to plant the rest of them. Our new garden is not as big as the old one."

Thranduil had an idea. "What do you think about the park by the bridge? It would be nice with more flowers there."

"But that is right outside your palace. Would you really let me plant there?"

"I give you free reins. I have actually long thought to turn it into a more orderly garden, but I lacked someone with an eye for that sort of thing to do it. The job is yours, if you want it."

"I would love that!" Her eyes sparkled.

"That is settled then." He refilled their goblets and raised his own in a toast. "I think we will do great deeds together this year. I am glad you came."

"I am beginning to feel the same way." She smiled radiantly.

She really had the most charming smile; it lit up her whole face and it was very contagious.

The evening progressed amiably with pleasant conversation and much laughter once the potent Dorwinion loosened their tongues. Thranduil was surprised how easy it was to talk to Thuriniel; as if they had always been friends and not lived apart for decades.

After a while the topic returned to what they had spoken about the other day: their past, unsuccessful marriages.

"I wonder if the Valar have forgiven them." Thuriniel took a bite of the apple tart that was for dessert.

Thranduil's eyes were drawn to her lips. "We will find out when we join them in Aman, I suppose."

"Yes..." Her mouth turned down.

He wanted to bring back her contagious smile and tried to joke: "Or, we could stay in Middle-earth forever and forget their existence."

Instead of smiling, she sighed. "If only that were possible."

"Aye..." Thranduil found himself wondering how things would have turned out if his wife really didn't exist. If his parents had matched him with someone else... Or allowed him to choose at will. "If I could change the past, I wish I had married someone more like myself," he mused. "With similar interests, I mean."

She nodded eagerly. "Me too. Someone I could talk to, a good friend... but a friend I was attracted to as well." Her eyes grew large and dreamy in the soft candlelight. "Just like the hero in a romantic book."

"In books, ellyn are always perfect." He grinned. "Handsome, talented and nice."

"And great lovers, not to forget." She smirked impishly. She really did have an amazing smile...

"Of course," he deadpanned. "Tireless and well endowed."

That made them both burst out laughing, nearly spraying the tablecloth with wine.

"I had forgotten how good it feels to laugh with someone," he said when he had caught his breath. "That is what I missed most after your husband left; his banter and good sense of humor." Turning serious, he added: "Despite what he did, he was my best friend." He took a deep draught from his goblet to hide the overwhelming sadness at the thought of that loss.

"I understand. I miss my friend too." Thuriniel took his hand and pressed it.

It was probably meant to be soothing, but instead her touch ignited a tiny flutter in his stomach. Probably the wine affecting him.

He tried to ignore the feeling but failed. Instead his gaze was drawn to her face with the intelligent eyes and shapely lips. It struck him that she was a lot like the perfect heroines in romantic books: funny and kind, and exceptionally beautiful.

No, no, no. Such thoughts were off limits. What was wrong with him? She was married, and so was he, and he had no right to look at her lips that way.

Her very kissable lips.

But perhaps it was only natural he would feel slightly aroused under the circumstances; he had just had a nice, relaxed meal and several goblets of wine in the company of a lovely elleth. It had been ages since the last time he slept with his wife and his body probably felt it was about time to change that.

For, despite what he said the other day, Thranduil had enjoyed the physical part of his marriage – in a detached, carnal sort of way. To him, it had not only been a duty necessary to beget a child.

Unbidden, his mind showed him vivid images of such activities, but now it was Thuriniel lying naked between the sheets instead of Mithrellas.

He noticed her eyes on him. "What is it?" he asked. His voice sounded darker than usual.

She blushed but didn't look away. "Nothing." Her lips parted.

He could not say who started it; one moment he was staring at her lips as if in trance, the next he was kissing them intensely.

It was divine. Hot sparks of lust shot through him as he felt her passionate response, her mouth willingly opening to let his tongue in and her body pliant in his arms.

And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. Simultaneously they pulled apart, flustered and out of breath.

"What are we doing?" she whispered. In her face he read the same guilt he felt.

"It must have been the wine."

"The wine, aye. We have to be more careful next time." She smoothed out her dress and hair.

"Certainly." He forced a smile. "Friends?"

She returned it shakily. "Friends."

A/N:

Translation: Mellon muin = dear friend.