True to Rosseth's word, the Silven Games weren't a long walk from her home. The woods began to thin, and we began passing clusters of elves, each group hovering over two or sometimes three elves. Ecstatic excitement hung over the area like fog, and within minutes it began racing through my veins.

I belonged here—the wild forest, wild people, wild Games. It would be difficult to go home...but I purposed not to think about that yet. I had two days, three if the Valar continued to bless me. I would be a wild Silven until the very moment I had to be a prince again.

The farther we walked, the heavier the population of elves bustling around. The contestants were easy to identify, wearing little more than hairstyles meant to intimidate.

At length, an open tent came into view, a table set up in the shade and a queue of contestants stretching out in front of us.

Rosseth patted my arm. "You and Rirosdir go sign up. The rest of us will claim a spot, and I'll be back to show you two there."

I started to reply, but Rirosdir grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the queue, saying, "We must hurry, before the wait grows longer."

Indeed, more elves were heading toward the end of the queue. Thanks to Rirosdir's quick movement, we slid in just in front of two ellyn and a very short elleth wearing the bare minimum, all three clearly on a team. The ellyn grumbled something unflattering, but didn't pursue the matter.

The elleth, however, stomped around in front of me and stabbed a finger up at my nose. "Excuse me? I may be short, but I know you saw me here before you."

"I certainly did see you, walking." Eru, I loved this. "Right, Rirosdir?" I grinned and glanced at my compatriot.

Who gaped at me as though I'd cursed the Valar.

The elleth looked at him and sniffed. "Rirosdir. I thought you'd learned your lesson. Come back when you're weaned, sweetheart—the Games aren't fun for elflings." She flicked the tail of her intricate, beaded braid over her small shoulder.

Rirosdir sputtered. "What—you—"

I calmly interceded. "Don't be so quick to judge. He's been training extensively. Plus," —I smirked— "he's never had me on his team before."

"You? Ha!" She crossed her arms over her bony chest and smirked up at me with dark, glittering eyes. "You won't even survive first arena."

I leaned down a little closer to her height, narrowing my eyes. "Oh really? What makes you so sure?"

She went up on tiptoes, getting nose-to-nose with me. "I know good Games material when I see it. But you're skinny, too tall, too arrogant, and you won't see the traps until you're up to your eartips."

Now she was starting to get on my nerves. "Would you like to bet on that?" I growled.

"Oh, yeah," she retorted with a sneer. "A glass of Gameswine says you'll be a spectator by sundown."

I didn't know what Gameswine was, but even if it made me puke behind a bush, I would not back down. "Deal."

She cocked one inky eyebrow. "Ooh, you're a feisty one—let's make it more interesting, then? A dish of sauced venison says you'll be ranked in bottom twenty in the footrace."

I tilted my head and grinned—that should annoy her sufficiently. "I don't know, are you sure your ego can handle losing twice?"

Smirking darkly, she said, "Such a thoughtful ellon...but it's not me I'm worried about. Arrogant fools usually end up being orc bait."

"Then you've something to worry about." I kept grinning.

She regarded me for a long moment, then gave one sharp nod and held out her hand. "Since you'll probably be dead this time tomorrow, I'll let you stand ahead of my team." With that, she walked back to stand with her bored-faced companions.

Rather pleased with myself, I crossed my arms and waited for the queue to move. Rirosdir only sent me a disbelieving glance every now and then.

When we finally reached to the desk, an ellon and elleth gave us a nod of greeting. "Team of two?" the elleth said, dipping a quill into an inkpot.

"That's right," Rirosdir said. "That's Esgalnoron, and I'm Rirosdir."

The elleth chuckled and wrote our names down. "I remember you, Rirosdir. I thought you'd be smart enough to give the Games a rest."

Rirosdir puffed out his chest. "Never."

The ellon appraised us with a slight smirk. "The footrace begins at midmorning. You'll hear the summoning horn."

Nodding, Rirosdir nudged me to the side, and the elleth stepped forward, companions in tow. "Ùriel, Cugudor, and Glàndir," she announced.

Rosseth came jogging up and stopped beside us. "Come on, we have a place."

"See you later, Orcbait," the short elleth called after me, smirking.

"Not if I see you first, Lady Shortness," I retorted with a grin.

With a groan, Rirosdir shoved me forward, propelling me away from the line of gaping onlookers. "You fool," he hissed. "Do you want to die?"

"What?" I looked to Rosseth, who looked both horrified and amused.

"That was Ùriel Hinnordiriel," Rirosdir enunciated. "She's probably the best contestant here."

Rosseth sighed and shoved her cousin's shoulder. "That's an exaggeration. Ùriel's team almost won three consecutive Games, except last Game, she was the only contestant of her team left. The red banner was at the top of a tree, and she was too short to climb as quickly as someone else. But for the last decade or so, her team always turns out in the top three."

"So there you have it," Rirosdir said with an angry huff. "Competing will be futile if you're flirting with the one elf that could singlehandedly crush us."

"Flirting?" I squawked indignantly.

Rosseth crossed her arms. "It certainly looked that way."

Well that came back to bite me. "I didn't mean to," I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Rirosdir came to an abrupt halt. "Then go back there and apologize." He stabbed a finger back toward the tent.

My pride protested. I looked to Rosseth for help.

She sighed. "If you were anyone else, I would agree." Catching my gaze, she raised an eyebrow. "Situation being what it is, I think we'd best hope she plays nicely and you don't embarrass us too badly." She kept walking away from the tent.

"Stars above, how encouraging," I muttered, following her.

Rirosdir trudged after us, grumbling, "Eru, I'm always ignored..."

We made it to where the others had gathered in the shade of a sprawling tree, and Daeris brought me a wafer of lembas bread. "Eat this—you'll need your strength for the footrace."

I nodded my thanks and bit into the bread while she gave one to Rirosdir.

"Esgalnoron," Goldir calls from where he sits next to Orelon. They beckon me over. "We'll explain the rules to you, and tell you a bit of what to expect."

Still chewing, I walked over to them.

Orelon glanced at his brother, and they exchanged a smirk. Then he said, "We never know what the arenas will look like before the beginning of that round. Each Game usually consists of three arenas, plus the footrace. More can be added as needed, if there's no clear winner by the end of the second day."

Goldir nodded. "There's always Field, Forest, and River arenas. The footrace includes aspects of all three. As a general rule, the simpler your path to the red banner, the more likely you'll be blindsided by a trap."

"If it looks too easy, it is," Orelon cut in. "And the traps are brutal—no one's been killed in three decades or so, but bones are broken every Game."

Well, that should be fairly easy to explain to Adar. Nothing to worry about.

Goldir continued. "The worst traps are in Forest. Field will have fewer traps, but the challenges can be anything. River is usually an obstacle course with the fewest traps of the three."

I interjected, "Tell me more about the traps. What kinds of things can I expect?"

Orelon started listing them on his fingers. "Covered pits in Field, false floors and tripwires in Forest. The occasional sinking post in River. Those are the most common, but the designers come up with something new for every Game."

"Ada." Sitting against the tree trunk, Rosseth giggled. "Let him figure it out. He'll do perfectly well." She beckoned for me to come.

I wouldn't have minded more advice, but I thanked the ellyn and walked over to Rosseth. "Yes?"

She patted the ground beside her. "Rest. The footrace is intensive, and you will need your strength up."

Lowering myself to the ground beside her, I confessed, "I'm a bit worried...I don't mind a bit of rough play, but I'd rather not break a bone...or lose anything."

Rosseth met my gaze, and her feä brushed the outskirts of mine, like wind brushing over a bird's feathers. Tingles ran down my spine. Only Naneth ever touched my feä anymore, but rarely.

She gasped and looked away. "Sorry...I didn't mean to...I'm still learning, and I'm not good at...never mind. I'm sorry." She started to get up.

I laid a hand on her arm. "You've caused no harm...please don't leave." Something about her presence swept my every worry out of my mind, and I didn't want them to come back.

She made eye contact again, her cheeks reddening, and opened her mouth. After a hesitation, she closed it again and settled back beside me.

No one seemed to have noticed the exchange, for which I was grateful. Concluding my fortune was high, I decided to press it. "Might I use your knee as a pillow?"

Rosseth arched an eyebrow. "My knee would be rather hard, especially for you, Esgalnoron. Perhaps just above it?"

"Ooh, how scandalous." I laughed—mostly delayed nerves and giddy relief—and scooted over. I lay down and propped my head up just above her knee. Not a bad feeling at all. Not that I could admit that. "Rosseth, you must know, your leg is still not as comfortable as down feathers."

She touched her chest with an expression of mock hurt, giving an indignant squeak. "How very rude."

Her tone drew the others' attention. Rirosdir shook his head and looked away. Goldir smirked and pretended to be occupied. Orelon and Faelel exchanged a weighty look. And Daeris gazed at us for a long moment, then turned away, shoulders drooping.

Rosseth leaned forward to whisper, "By the by, you look like you kissed the west end of an eastern-facing pig...with that hairstyle, at least." She smirked.

I groaned, not wanting to even think about what I looked like—that was probably why Ùriel whoever-she-was felt the need to verbally challenge me. Because, thanks to Daeris, I looked like a ridiculous amateur.

"It's okay," Rosseth murmured, a smile coming across her face. "We can let it loose for the race, and I'll do something with it tomorrow."

Nodding my agreement, I gave her a grateful smile and closed my eyes, determined to attempt some rest before the race.

Fingers slid into my hair, loosing the awful twists and lightly caressing my scalp. Rosseth was probably just checking how the coloring held up overnight. The pleasant feeling drew me into a content slumber.

* * *

https://youtu.be/Z4MNRb1qLMI

Thranduil's eyelashes twitched when Rosseth first touched his hair, but he didn't complain, so Rosseth took this as permission. Her fingers slid through his hair, clumpy and sticky right now, but its sleek texture fresh on her memory from that day in his bedroom.

She allowed herself the luxury of staring. His face slackened in sleep, stealing the hardened edges of frustration that usually cut through his youth.

Rosseth's feä still hummed with the stimulation of coming in contact with his. Faelel oft said that Rosseth's feä was like an ocean, creating new tides with every feeling, overreacting to some scenarios, but on the whole quite stable.

But Thranduil's feä was like a wildfire, making a way for itself by consuming all that stood in its way. One touch of her feä to his, and she'd been overwhelmed by his intensity. A single fleeting contact, and his passion had burned into her soul.

Her heart twisted with longing.

Eru Illùvatar...please...let me care for him.

Tears moistened her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She would grieve the hopelessness of the situation when Thranduil could no longer be Esgalnoron.