Yule, 3017 TA

Never before had a Yule feast been so merry or quite so loud. The king's best wine flowed steadily to every table. The fire roared bright on the enormous hearth of the banquet hall, the music piped cheerfully, and the mood was infectious. Every so often another elf would call out a toast to the elvenking. Everyone would drink to the king's honor, and Thranduil would have to drink as well.

Even when the dancing began after dinner, the toasts to the king continued after every song. It almost became a game of sorts, and as the evening stretched on, Narylfiel noted that her king was looking just the slightest bit tipsy. Elven wine is extremely potent, and Dorwinion vintages even more so. His eyes were bright, and his cheeks were flushed. She had been contentedly watching her sister dance with Legolas, but every so often her eyes wandered to Thranduil's chair at the head of the table. She could not help herself. She just enjoyed watching him, not that it had anything to do with how regal he looked in his dark grey, sharply tailored tunic and his winter crown of evergreen sprigs and dark red berries. Of course not!

He caught her watching him and smiled a slow smile. The king sat his glass down and unexpectedly pushed away from the table, standing in one liquid motion. He crooked his finger at her and without waiting, moved around with the table with an easy grace, until he stood before her.

"May I have the honor of the next dance, my lady?" Thranduil asked her, just as formal and proper as a king should, but dimples creased his cheeks.

"I would be honored, your Majesty," she replied in kind and accepted his offered hand. Thranduil drew her into the swirling array of dancers, and Narylfiel felt like the room might just have tipped over with her in it. She tried to remind herself that this was the same elf who she considered one of her closest confidantes, her friend.

She tried to remind herself that this was Thranduil Oropherion, her king. But in that moment, none of it mattered. He held her in his arms, his strong hands on her waist, on her back. She blushed-just no amount of will power could keep the slow rise of heat from flooding her cheeks.

If Thranduil noticed, and surely he had, he made no mention of it. He complimented her on how well everything had turned out and how glad he was that they decided to go with the roast boar instead of pressed pheasant for dinner.

As their dance drew to a close, he angled his head as he looked at her. "You look very beautiful tonight, Narylfiel." he told her in a conspiratorial whisper. "I have seen many a young elf's eye turn your way while we were dancing."

As he had done in the past, he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head. After the king excused himself, Narylfiel slipped back to her seat, her mind replaying the dance, the feel of his arms, his warmth. Her thoughts wandered to what it would be like if he kissed her, really kissed her. Her head swam at the very idea, or was it from the wine?

Narylfiel remembered the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the archway outside the banquet hall. She had talked the king into hanging some up as a mischievous surprise for couples and would-be couples. Could she lure Thranduil underneath it tonight? The king had left the banquet hall only a moment ago. Before Narylfiel could talk her self out of the foolish notion, which she surely would have done if perhaps she had not drank that fourth or even fifth glass of wine, she hopped up from her seat and cut straight across the dance floor for the large entrance to the room.

She did not get any farther than the doorway. She didn't need to-because from the entrance, she could spy the archway and the mistletoe.

The sight from the door shocked her. A couple already monopolized the mistletoe, and there was no mistaking that tall head of golden hair, not to mention the tell-tale spiky crown. A dark-headed elleth had Thranduil wrapped in a passionate embrace.

Narylfiel stood there for a second stunned into a disbelieving stupor by the horrid scene before her. Then her eyes blurred, and she fled the Yule Feast for the sanctuary of her own room. The next morning brought a bright new layer of snow to the Woodland Realm and a coolly determined young elleth left with the Forest Guard for the southern border. She did not return to the King's halls for a very long time.
. . . . . . . .
November, 3018

Autumn had hardened into an unseasonably cool fall, and by November, the first heavy snows had already swirled down from the Misty Mountains and blanketed the forest in an unfeeling layer of white. Legolas had not returned yet from Imladris, nor had Thranduil received any word from the prince, save for the first missive saying they had arrived in the valley safely. Now with the cold snap and the onset of early snow, the king had all but resigned himself to the fact that Legolas might not return home until Spring, when the passes thawed in the mountains.

The one bright spot in all of this, Thranduil mused, was Narylfiel. She had made good on her pledge to help him in the palace, and so far, had been markedly adept at helping Galadhor, the chief of staff, to organize and plan for a possible siege.

Thranduil had just finished an hour of hearing supplicants in the throne room, and so Narylfiel had walked with him back to the royal wing of the palace. She had plans to increase the reserve guards' training hours in preparation for an attack-"they need more combat training, King Thranduil, especially if our defenses do not hold," she concluded. Narylfiel was always very careful to address him formally when in public areas of the palace.

"I agree," Thranduil said thoughtfully. "The members of the Royal Guard could adjust their schedule to work in some training hours with our reserve members."

Narylfiel nodded, pleased that he consented to her plan so easily.

"Narylfiel," the king began, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, "Yule will be here before we know it. In spite of our current difficulties," he said with a frown and then continued, "I still would like to have the Yule Celebration."

Now it was Narylfiel's turn to frown. She would never openly disagree with the king in public. Privately, on the other hand, was a completely different matter. She said nothing, and as she and the king turned the corner into their wing of the palace, he gestured toward the sitting room and then pulled the door shut.

"I did not relish the thought of returning to my study for today," he explained as he pulled off his ornate outer robe and after thinking about it for a moment, pulled his crown off and dropped it on top of the robe. "We have spent too much time in there lately."

"I could ask Galion to bring some tea," suggested Narylfiel.

"No, no tea," disagreed the king. He strode over to the long side table against the back wall of the room. After a bit of looking, he selected a dark bottle with a green label. "You know, since your sister redecorated this room, I cannot seem to find anything," he complained half-heartedly as he rifled through a drawer for the corkscrew.

"She loves this room, Thranduil," Narylfiel told him. "It meant much to her that you let her redo it." She wanted to add 'because she knew that Legolas' mother had used the space as her sitting room,' but Narylfiel wisely left those words unsaid. There were some things that she and Thranduil never discussed. She moved next to him, looked for a second, and then handed him the corkscrew.

He took it from her without comment, although she could tell he was the teensiest bit annoyed that she found it so easily before he could. Thranduil opened the bottle with all the ease of one who has opened many, many bottles of wine, and poured them both a glass.

After both of them had settled into their favorite chairs in the room and Thranduil had contentedly poked the fire a few times, he returned to the subject of planning the Yule Celebration. "I would have thought that you would have been more excited about planning another party," the king told her, watching her carefully. "We had such a good time together planning last year's, and everybody seemed to enjoy themselves."

Narylfiel colored ever so slightly, but it was enough that Thranduil noticed. He prided himself on, well, a good deal many things, but being perceptive was one of them.

"What bothers you, Naurenniel?" He drew her nickname out softly, his eyes concerned.

Narylfiel looked away. "I know what you are doing, Thranduil, and it simply won't work," she told him, but her voice belied the confidence of her words. The truth was that Thranduil could always get her talking. He was very persuasive and extremely intuitive-with most things.

"Oh, come now, Narylfiel," coaxed Thranduil. "Did something happen last year at the Yule feast? Why the sudden aversion to it now?"

Narylfiel let out an unpleasant sounding snort and set her glass down. "If you do not know, then I am certainly not going to say," she retorted.

The king leaned forward in his chair and after some thought, reached forward and carefully took her hand in his own warm palm. "I reviewed the ledgers for the patrols, Narylfiel, several months ago-back when you were still guarding the border."

"It does not matter, Thranduil," she told him seriously, memorizing the way her hand felt in his.

"It matters to me," the king said quietly. "You went from being around all the time to never being home-and this sudden change in behavior seemed to coincide with the Yule feast last year?" His blue eyes searched hers.

Curse his persistence, Narylfiel thought miserably and a little angrily too. He could never leave well enough alone.

"Fine," she said at last, "if you must know, it really bothered me when I saw you kissing that elleth under the mistletoe last year. I don't know why-but it just did." Of course, she really did know why, but he did not need to know it.

Thranduil dropped her hand and sat back. He rubbed his temples and tried his best to recall the fuzzy details. He did remember, enough to know that it must have looked like quite a scene. And Narylfiel had seen? "It was done as a joke, Narylfiel," he told her matter-of-factly. "Rubawen pulled me under there. Did you not see both of us laugh about it afterwards?"

"It didn't seem very joke-like from where I was standing," she admitted hotly, the tips of her ears burning.

"Wait-" said Thranduil, his eyes crinkling into amusement. "Are you jealous?"

"What? No!" she protested, rolling her eyes. Maybe a little jealous, she thought, okay, a lot, but he did not need to know that either.

If he laughed at her, Narylfiel feared that she really might just commit regicide.

To his credit, Thranduil did not laugh. One look at his friend's drawn little face stifled any notion of doing so at once. Instead, he steepled his fingers and paused, wishing for wisdom in this moment. He took a deep breath and then directly met her eyes. "Is this why you left, Narylfiel?"

"No. Yes. Maybe," she answered, looking away.

An awkward silence blanketed the room, as awkward as any unsaid moment that ever stretched across a room in the Elvenking's halls.

Galion, the king's butler, broke the uneasy quiet by knocking quickly and then rushing into the room.

"This letter just arrived, your majesty. It's from Lord Elrond's messenger pigeons! It must be from Prince Legolas," he exclaimed excitedly.

His heart pounding, Thranduil immediately stood and took the letter, breaking the seal and turning away from the others to read it. Galion silently slipped from the room, and as much as Narylfiel wanted to seize the opportunity to sneak out as well, she just couldn't bring herself to leave. She knew how much Thranduil had longed for a letter, or any news of his son.

Thranduil felt bile rise to his throat within his first glance at the beginning lines...

'Dear Father,

I wanted to write you much earlier, but Lord Elrond insisted that we send no news that might be intercepted by the enemy. I cannot tell you any specifics, but I will shortly be leaving Imladris to help Estel and Gandalf with an important task. I will be gone for some time...'

He quickly passed the letter off to Narylfiel, who had come to stand by his side as soon as Galion left, as soon as she watched his face visibly pale in a matter of seconds.

"I need a moment," Thranduil said. His usually melodic voice sounded frail, and his hands were shaking as he went back to the side table again and this time poured himself a very stout drink. Miruvor. He dropped down on the settee, and Narylfiel took her place beside him. She covered his hand with her own, began to read aloud:

'Dear Father,

I wanted to write you much earlier, but Lord Elrond insisted that we send no news that might be intercepted by the enemy. I cannot tell you any specifics, but I will shortly leave Imladris to help Estel and Gandalf with an important task. I will be gone for some time.'

Narylfiel stopped and swallowed hard, her voice failing her until the king squeezed her hand. She bit her lip and then continued:

'I know that you wished for me to return quickly, but please understand that is something I cannot do. There are things in motion, Father, which may rule the fate of us all, and if I can serve a cause that may save the lives of so many whom I hold dear, it is a risk I would take many times over. Thaliniel plans on staying in Elrond's house, for the road back home has grown too dangerous.

Father, I wished to tell you this in person, but time has run so short, now I fear I may never have the chance. Thaliniel is with child. She and I decided we must try shortly after Elrond's council. She could not bear the thought something happening to me. We both draw comfort in knowing that I would still be with her in some small way.'

Narylfiel gasped, and tears swam in her eyes. She leaned against Thranduil and choked back a sob. Thranduil took the letter from her hands and finished reading, though the words came to him bitterly:

'I know that many times in my youth you thought me impulsive, reckless. I hope you can understand now that the road I take, the choices I have made, are the result of many sleepless nights, of tortured deliberation over what is right, over what is selfless. I think of you often, and Thaliniel sends her love to her sister.

My heart will always belong to Mirkwood, to our people, to my king. I do this for us all.

Your son,
Legolas'

"This letter sounds like goodbye." Narylfiel's voice was muffled, her cheek pressed into the king's sleeve.

"I cannot-I just...I have nothing. There is nothing I can say," the king concluded, letting the letter drift from his grasp and onto the rug. He stared at the flames on the hearth and wished for some other alternative, or that his cares might drift away, like sparks rising with the smoke up into the night. He thought of the ships at the Grey Havens and distant green shores.

But these thoughts lasted only for the briefest of moments, for the king's eyes beheld his dear friend still by his side. A fierce light burned in her eyes, like she was willing herself not to cry in front of him. This time Thranduil did not think at all but pulled her into his embrace.

They stayed that way until the fire burned down to embers.

Neither noticed the second letter, the one that Galion had dropped in haste by the door.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Author's note: Oh, dear! Elrond better watch himself. When he gets past feeling worried, Thranduil is going. to. be. TICKED. Something to look forward to! So what about that 2nd letter? What could the contents be, and who will find it first?

Just a little refresher for the fans wondering about our Lord of the Rings Timeline: Council of Elrond meets on October 25. The Fellowship leaves Rivendell on December 25.

Thranduil would like to thank everybody for the lovely votes! He is feeling #MoreFabulousThanEver!

Please Vote, Follow, Comment!

#ElvenKingsNeedLoveToo