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The coronation led into a grand feast, and Thranduil and Anthelísse found there was little time to speak to one another. Instead Anthelísse found herself seated between Aislinn and Gurithon at the enormous table that had been assembled in the Great Hall. The gift that she and her handmaidens had made for Thranduil rested beneath the table against her leg, and Anthelísse hoped that an opportunity would present itself to give it to him. In the meantime though, speaking with Gurithon was turning out to be quite enjoyable.

"Has the king shown you the mountain paths yet, Lady Anthelísse?" Gurithon asked as he held up his goblet for a refill of wine. Thranduil's Captain of the Guard displayed the Silvan talent for imbibing seemingly endless quantities of the powerful drink with only minimal effect. Anthelísse for her part was still working away at a first cup.

She shook her head, still recovering from her last sip of wine. "Not yet, but there will no doubt be time for that later."

"So you intend to remain here in Emyn Duir for the foreseeable future? Gurithon inquired.

Anthelísse recalled her lukewarm reception among the councillors of the Woodland Realm and frowned slightly. "Yes, contrary to the hopes of some. I am here by invite of the king, and will stay for however long as his hospitality extends."

Gurithon looked surprised and held up his hands placatingly. "You mistake me Lady Anthelísse! Quite to the contrary, I am glad to hear that you will not be departing any time soon." With a quick glance around, the captain lowered his voice and leaned in closer. "Have you been made to feel unwelcome by any since your arrival?"

It was tempting to grouse about the Sindarin nobility to this good natured Silvan elf, particularly Tharnor and his subtly nasty comments. Anthelísse was the Lady of Noldor though, and not prone to such outbursts. Instead she settled for a quick flicker of her eyes in the direction of Thranduil's Master of Coin.

"No, not truly Gurithon. I thank you though for your kind words."

Ever sharp, Gurithon had not missed Anthelísse's brief glance at Tharnor's back one table over. He was far from surprised; Tharnor had been one of the most vocal opponents of Oropher's decision to answer Gil-Galad's call to battle in the Last Alliance. Gurithon also did not like it overmuch that the Master of Coin chose to fight his battles in the shadows with words rather than with a sword in the open. Still, so long as Tharnor had not openly offended the lady Anthelísse then Gurithon supposed Thranduil had other worries to manage for now.

"Fear not, in time you will come to know more of the hospitality of the Greenwood. Our folk have kept mainly to ourselves for centuries, and especially given recent events you must understand that many do not love strangers. I see how Thranduil watches you though Lady Anthelísse..." When Anthelísse blushed Gurithon smiled. "Oropher was well loved among our people, and so is his son. When it is known how Thranduil has come to care for you, others will surely welcome you in time."

"You see much, Captain." Anthelísse said, pretending she did not see Aislinn beaming over her plate of roast boar beside her.

Gurithon winked. "I see what is plain to be seen, my lady."

When the last course of the feast had been finished and all had pushed away their plates with sighs of contentment, the tables were once again removed from the Great Hall. Now there was a great empty space of gleaming marble floor beneath the vaulted palace ceiling, and the minstrels began to tune their instruments once more. The torchlight cast golden shadows over the expectant faces of all as the king took his seat upon the throne at the head of the hall.

Thranduil gazed slowly out across the sea of elven faces, his eyes traveling from childhood friends to old mentors to new guests. They all looked to him, waiting for his word to begin the final festivities of the evening. Their people had lost so much to war, and yet still the spirit of the elves remained unbroken. The Firstborn of Eru waited with eager feet to dance.

At a wave from Thranduil the harpers and flutists began their melody, a wildly beautiful sound that wove through the crowd and among the banners of the Woodland Realm. Those who wished to watch rather than dance fell back to the perimeter of the hall, there to mingle among the columns drinking goblets of wine and cool water. Anthelísse and Aislinn were among this company, where they regrouped with Iminyë and the other Noldor. The steps of the Silvan and Sindarin dances were unknown to them, and so they contented themselves with discussing their thoughts on the coronation and feast. Aislinn carried Thranduil's gift with her, and Anthelísse wondered if in the end she would have to present it formally before everyone assembled or not at all.

Three songs passed with Anthelísse and her folk watching from the periphery and Thranduil seated upon the throne with Queen Nellas at his side. Then Thranduil's gaze met Anthelísse's from afar and the young king stood. The music immediately faded and all turned their attention to the front.

"We have in our company tonight guests of the lineage of the Noldor, the Lady Anthelísse and her folk." Thranduil extended a hand in her direction, and all eyes in the hall now focussed on them. "Perhaps you would be so kind, my lady, to lead us in one of the dances of your own people?"

A murmur started to travel through the crowd, and it was difficult to tell if the tone was intrigued or disgruntled. Drawing herself up to her full height, Anthelísse inclined her chin in assent. "If you so desire, King Thranduil, two of my people could first demonstrate?" Baelgos, the one minstrel who had accompanied her to the Greenwood took the hint and moved around the hall to join the other musicians. Lute in hand, he quickly set about explaining the tempo and cadence of a popular Noldo ceremonial dance to the woodland elves.

Thranduil glanced at his mother, than a sudden impulsive grin quirked his lips. "If you would be so gracious Lady Anthelísse, perhaps you and I could demonstrate instead? Then all shall have the benefit of seeing an amateur learn the basic steps first off."

A slight ripple of laughter spread among the elves, and Anthelísse relaxed the tense posture she hadn't even realized she had adopted. Nodding, she smiled and stepped forward to the dance floor. Thranduil likewise rose and laid the scepter of the Woodland Realm on his seat. The crowd parted for both from either direction, and Thranduil and Anthelísse found themselves the center of attention alone in the middle of the hall.

Face to face with Thranduil once again Anthelísse found, to her surprise, that she was nervous. With all the eyes of the Woodland Realm upon the two of them, the silence seemed endless. They could only watch one another and wait.

Then, the first slow notes began to flow from the strings of the largest harp. Anthelísse curtsied low to Thranduil, and he caught the cue to bow in return. Then she reached for him and he for her.

Watching the gracefully revolving pair on the dance floor, Nellas was grateful of the dark veil behind which she could mask her face. She wished not for the first or last time that Oropher was at her side. Although, Nellas suspected that she already knew what Oropher would have said about this unlikely couple. After all, it had been he who had bridged the gap between Sindar and Silvan elves when they had first come to this place from Doriath.

The queen looked to Gurithon, Oropher's trusted Captain of the Guard who stood near the bottom of the dias. Rather than concerned or anxious though, Gurithon seemed downright pleased as he watched Anthelísse guiding Thranduil through the complex forms of the Noldorin dance. Surprised, Nellas's puzzlement only grew as she took in more of the crowd.

Rather than disapproving, most faces wore expressions of interest, curiosity or even sly amusement. It only took one look at Thranduil to see just how smitten the young king was. Anthelísse was undeniably beautiful, but it was the way that she was gazing back at Thranduil that seemed to be winning people over. There were still the odd elves in the crowd that were frowning, but they were much fewer and further between than Nellas had imagined. She didn't miss the outright disgust on some faces however, particularly members of the council. Even among the elves there could be found hearts too entwined with the vines of politics to soften themselves to love.

When the song ended, Anthelísse and Thranduil bowed to each other once more. A polite applause went up from the hall, polite yet still enthusiastic. Anthelísse spotted Aislinn lurking at the edge of the dance floor with Thranduil's gift in her hands, and knew that now was the time.

"Come with me." She murmured, reaching out a hand as the next song began and others began to join in the dance. Thranduil was only too happy to comply, and as they passed on their way to one of the side halls Aislinn passed the precious scroll off to Anthelísse.

Ducking down a quieter passage out of sight of those still in the Great Hall, Anthelísse held up the rolled tapestry between them.

"I have a gift for you." she said. "To commemorate your coronation as king of the Woodland Realm."

Thranduil's eyes were bright as he accepted the tapestry. "I do not even need to see it yet to know I will treasure it always, Anthelísse."

"See it anyways, for a tapestry is no good if it remains tied." Anthelísse replied with a soft laugh.

Obediently Thranduil undid the ribbon that held it shut and began to unfurl the woven scene. The more he saw as opened, the more his voice caught and stuck in his throat.

It was done in a similar style to the tapestry Anthelísse had observed while leaving the council chambers two weeks ago. The scene was one of a heroic charge, bordered in shimmering plaits and lit by the light of a golden-threaded sun peeking through dark clouds. There in the weft Oropher lived again, leading his army of Silvan and Sindarin elves into battle before the Black Gate.

There was no trace of cynicism or tragedy in the scene Anthelísse and her handmaidens had woven, only admiration for a proud elf king and his brave warriors. Oropher held his sword high, his mouth open in an echoing battle cry as they charged to meet the forces of Sauron. Thranduil was there too at his father's side, as were Gurithon and Amdír, king of the elves of Lórien. They were all immortalized together in that tapestry, brave and true and unbowed.

Anthelísse waited and watched as Thranduil's face betrayed a thousand emotions all at once. She had been unsure if perhaps recreating such a scene would bring too many raw and painful feelings to the surface. Once her fingers had started working though, there was no stopping that fateful charge from making its way onto the canvas. It had almost felt like Oropher himself was there as they worked, insisting on sending this final message to his son through Anthelísse. The king had died a hero's death, fighting against the armies of darkness and saving his child, and he was at peace.

When Thranduil finally pulled himself together enough to speak, he couldn't find the words to even begin expressing what was in his heart. This was a moment for which there were no words. Instead, the tapestry still clutched in his hand, Thranduil opened his arms to Anthelísse and crushed her in an embrace that contained all the emotions any elf could ever hold.

Beyond in the Great Hall the elves of the Woodland Realm danced, and above the palace roof the stars shone overhead. And somewhere even further beyond the stars, Oropher smiled.

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