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Dear Everyone who has followed Kingsfoil and put up with 60 something chapters, waiting to see how it all would end. 

This is it. 

I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter to you.  It was very difficult for me to write for numerous reasons but mostly because I lost someone dear to my heart, someone with whom I wished I could have shared this final chapter.

- . - . -

Nine Hundred Years ago...

"Thranduil."  Her quiet voice at the door to his study pulled him from his reverie.  "Felawen and her husband have decided to sail.  I—"  She broke off the word as his eyes met hers across the room.  "I want to go with them."

"Go with them," he repeated.  "You can't mean that, Elarien.  Legolas—"

She mournfully shook her head, her eyes red-rimmed.  Thranduil rose from his chair and brought her into the room, pulled the door shut behind him. 

"I love him, Thranduil. I do. But I'm not good for him. He—he asked me yesterday what he had done wrong to make his nana sad all the time. Don't you see? Even he knows there's something wrong with me."  She dabbed at her eyes with the long end of her sleeve.

"If you would just tell me how to help you..." Thranduil carefully began.

"It's nothing you can do.  Don't you see? You and Legolas will be better off without me."

Thranduil remembered how her face had lit up when she first held their son and wondered when and how she had become so bitter.  "I know we've had our differences, Elarien, but I care for you. You're my wife."

Her face, once so beautiful to him, seemed gaunt. "I can't, Thranduil.  I can't stay here.  These woods, this forest, the darkness—and I only have to see the dark canopy—even just a glimpse—and my chest tightens, my throat closes up...I can't breathe.  And I feel like my heart may just pound itself out of my chest."  Her eyes were desolate.  "I'm broken." 

"You're not, Elarian.  Whatever this is, the healers—"

"Will give me another calming tonic? Tell me to lie down and rest until it passes?"

"Legolas needs you."

She shook her head forlornly. "He doesn't. He needs a mother who can love him. Take care of him. I'm none of those things.'

Thranduil watched her cry, his heart warring between sympathy and anger. She had already given up.  He patted her on the shoulder and when she leaned into his chest, he held her as long as she needed. He was not ready to let her go.

-  . -  .  -

By the evening, the king's halls buzzed with the excitement Prince Legolas had come home.  From the gate to the cellar, mouths whispered that the prince returned a war hero and the princess was with child.  Surely the prince's homecoming would be celebrated by the king, not to mention the happy news of a new addition to the royal family.  So it was naturally of little surprise when the king's chief of staff sent the kitchen a lavish menu for the evening's meal featuring many of the prince's favorites.   Housekeeping busied themselves airing out the bright, fine table linens and setting the tables with fine greenery and the polishing the candlesticks to a white shine. 

Unfortunately, the same sense of excitement for the evening's festivities did not extend to the king's own chambers. 

Thranduil and Narylfiel dressed in silence until Narylfiel caught a glimpse of her husband's stony expression in her mirror and set her brush down with a snap. 

"This is ridiculous," she said. 

Thranduil's fingers lingered on his collar as his eyes favored her with an incredulous look.  "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."  She turned on her stool to peer up at him.  "Are you the king of this realm or not?"

Something dangerous sparked in his eyes. 

"Let's not tiptoe around it," she said.  "Are we happy with our marriage?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"My sister made me feel like a recalcitrant elfling this morning," Narylfiel said, rising.  "And now that we've both had some time to feel a little sad about her and Legolas' reactions to our marriage, I propose a new plan of action. 

"And what might that be?" Thranduil asked.

She took her hands in his. "We own it, Thranduil. No excuses, no shame."

"I'm sure there have been worse plans," he said.  "I can't think of any right now, but—"

"Are you with me?"

"I have always been with you," he said.  "What did you have in mind?"

She took in his elegant robe, the starlight navy of his crisp tunic and the way it made his eyes impossibly blue.  "I never thought I was going to say these words, but—" she locked eyes with him.  "Let's wear matching wardrobes."

A slow smile teased his mouth.  "I thought you'd never ask," he said.

-  . -  .  -


Thranduil made sure that his son and daughter-in-law left before he and Narylfiel quit their chambers.  There were some times, he decided, when one needed to make a spectacular entrance.  This was one of those times. 

In fact, as he and Narylfiel passed the pair of guards stationed at the end of the hall, he smirked to see Melui gape at the queen.  Thranduil slowed enough for the guard to take in the full measure of her friend. 

"Narylfiel!" she exclaimed.  "I mean, Queen Narylfiel.  You look..."  she waved her hands in place of the words that couldn't quite form in her mouth. 

"Very queenly," Dorwil supplied quietly. 

Thranduil and Narylfiel shared a look, and then she grinned.

Waiting at the entrance to the dining hall, Galadhor took in the appearance of his king and queen and smiled broadly at them before announcing their arrival. Matching wardrobes indeed.

-  . -  .  -

Already seated at the head table, the prince and princess stood at Thranduil and Narylfiel's arrival.  Resplendent in coordinating colors of dark blue and silver, the king and queen swept into the room, the pair of them greeting members of the court along the way to their table. Thaliniel's mouth fell open a little.  "Legolas," she whispered and elbowed him. 

"I know," he murmured. "It's like I know that person is Narylfiel, the same one who used to ask me to give her piggyback rides, but at the same time..."

"She's changed, grown up—I don't know how I didn't see it before." Thaliniel shook her head disbelievingly.  "I know I said some hard things to her earlier, but I am glad they have each other, despite how weird it may seem."

"Yes," Legolas quietly agreed.  "It will make our leaving for Ithilien easier on Father."

Thaliniel took his hand in hers.  "When are you going to tell him?"

"Tonight," he whispered and then fell silent as his father took his place at the head of the table to his left. 

"Citizens of the Woodland Realm," Thranduil announced.  "We gather this evening to give thanks once again to the Valar for the safe return of our prince, Legolas.  No father could be more proud than I am to welcome him home as a war hero and celebrated member of the Fellowship of the Ring, instrumental in aiding in the destruction of Sauron, the Great Deceiver."

He paused a moment and Legolas stepped forward.  "Thank you, Father.  The princess and I are overjoyed to return home to the Woodland Realm, finding it more beautiful in these days of peace than we could have imagined.  And although we were both absent at the time, I would like to propose a toast to King Thranduil and Queen Narylfiel, whose joy in marriage is a light to this kingdom.  What a blessing their union is for my family and the Woodland Realm!"  He raised his glass.  "To King Thranduil and Queen Narylfiel."

"To King Thranduil and Queen Narylfiel!" chorused every voice in the hall, save the actual king and queen who exchanged an amused glance. 

After everyone had seated themselves, Thranduil patted Narylfiel's hand and turned to his son, seated on his right. 

"Thank you, Legolas. Your public support means much to both of us."

Legolas looked chagrined. "I meant it, Father, not just for appearances.  I know I reacted poorly."

On the other side of Thranduil, Narylfiel let out a disbelieving laugh.

Legolas leaned over to peer at her.  "I know, I know. But it was a shock."

Thranduil picked up his glass, effectively cutting off the exchange.  "Let's keep our voices down, shall we?  I am glad you are both home at last. No more adventures for any of you."  He eyed Narylfiel beside him.  "Especially you."

"I would have thought Narylfiel would have been relatively safe here in your halls during the War," Thaliniel said.  "I hope she didn't give you too much trouble, King Thranduil."

Thranduil smiled a slow smile and took another sip of wine. "Well," he said, "there was that time she left the halls without permission and was attacked by orcs..."  Narylfiel buried her face in her hands.

"Oh?" enquired Legolas and Thaliniel.

"Nothing much to tell there, Thranduil," Narylfiel said quickly and smiled brightly her sister and brother-in-law.  "Tell me, have you picked out any names for the baby yet?"

Legolas grinned.  "She's trying to change the subject.  It must be a good story." 

Narylfiel gripped her steak knife warningly.  "No, very dull, I assure you. But what about you, Legolas? I was hoping to hear some of your travels."

Thranduil looked interested and decided to let his wife off the hook for now.  "Yes, Legolas, I would like to hear about your part in this Fellowship."

"Well," Legolas began, to the delight of all those sitting near to listen.  A hush fell over the tables and the laughing, busy chatter of the king's hall died down to an expectant whisper.  "There were nine of us at first—Frodo, the Ringbearer, Mithrandir, Aragorn Elessar, Boromir of Gondor, Gimli son of Gloin, and three other hobbits, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrine Took. We left Rivendell with the knowledge that Frodo must destroy the ring in his possession, the One Ring of Sauron..."

...and for the rest of dinner, no one spoke, only listened as Prince Legolas told his tale of the  bravery and sacrifice of those members of the Fellowship.  The soup was served, roast carved and distributed, salad and bread brought out and dessert delivered, all silently and without a word from a single server, for they too were listening, spell-bound by the gallant and heroic deeds described by the Prince. 

"...only after the battle when I found Gimli and Aragorn, did I learn that Gandalf had flown with the giant Eagles to rescue Sam and Frodo from Mount Doom.  Barely alive, they had suffered cruelly for their bravery, but there in the shade of Ithilien, their wounds were tended and both hobbits recovered. They were the true heroes of the Fellowship."  Legolas looked up, his eyes shining, and someone in the back of the hall began to clap and then another joined in and another, and in no time, elves across the hall were on their feet, clapping for their prince's tale, and hardly an eye among them was left dry.

After the applause had died down and everyone settled back down in their seats to share in excited murmurs his or her reactions to Legolas' stories, the prince turned quietly to his father, who now sat nursing his nearly empty glass. 

"I am proud of you, Legolas, as proud as any father could be I imagine." Thranduil told him.  "You have always been a credit to me, but more than anything, I am glad to have you home, perilous adventures and valorous deeds notwithstanding."

"I am glad to be home, Father, but—" Legolas began and then stopped himself.

Thranduil sat down his glass and regarded him carefully.  "I am listening, Legolas."

"The place I described, the woods of Ithilien—I wish to go there, help my friends heal the land, undo the damage wrought by Sauron's ilk."

"I daresay your wife may not wish you to leave after the baby is born," Thranduil said, with a nod to his daughter-in-law. 

"She would go with me," Legolas said.  "Father, I want to start a new colony there. Aragorn needs my help and I would give it to him. There is much work to be done."

"Live there," Thranduil's voice faded to a whisper. "You want to help Aragorn heal his lands. What about our people, Legolas? Our lands?"  He stood abruptly, and noticed the eyes on him, as everyone else in the room leapt to their feet. An awkward pause hung over the head table, and Thranduil looked away from Legolas.  He signaled the court musicians.  "Let's have some dancing," he declared loudly across the room.  "For this night is still young enough!"

He drew Narylfiel's hand into his own and pulled her toward the open floor while the first notes of music started up from the corner of the hall. 

"What is all this about?" She knew Thranduil well enough to know the look in his eyes and forced smile meant trouble, but more than that, their bond stirred uneasily in her chest; she could feel the emptiness threatening to overtake him.

"Legolas," he said, the word drawn out painfully as a blade drawn from a wound. He took her hand and led her across the floor as many other couples joined them.

Narylfiel's eyes darted across the room as the king turned her in time to the lively beat of the music.  Her eyes landed on the head table where the prince leaned toward her sister and both conversed with serious expressions on their faces.  Then Legolas stiffly gestured toward his father, his eyes bright and his mouth frowning, and stalked away from the table.  Narylfiel watched him until he disappeared through one of the far doors that the servers used.

"What did Legolas say, Thranduil?" Narylfiel asked. "I thought from what he said tonight..." Her voice trailed away, and she looked toward the head table where Thaliniel sat, half-heartedly listening to Lord Rivenion.

"He's leaving," Thranduil could barely get the words out. "They both are."

Narylfiel now knew why he felt like he had taken an orc knife to the gut.  Leaving.  Just like that. Leaving. She wondered how much of their decision had to do with her marriage to Thranduil. 

The music faded away, and the couples on the floor politely clapped, many of them turning to find new partners.  "I can't dance right now, Thranduil," Narylfiel told him.

"No, I understand." He let her hand slip from his.  "I had to leave the table.  I may track down Galion to open up some of the Dorwinion."

Narylfiel nodded, watched him go, and the uncomfortable sick feeling in her stomach curdled into a tense, unnameable sort of rage.  Leaving.  And Legolas thought tonight's feast was the best time to impart this sort of news? 

Her poor Thranduil.

She glanced at the head table where her sister still sat.  Was this her decision or his?  She was halfway across the room before she realized she had even started walking.  They were leaving.  And apparently had decided this course of action when?  Narylfiel passed by the head table in a white heat, not even pausing to answer the question Thaliniel had called out as she passed. 

Legolas.  With his oh-so-sweet story of the Fellowship and hobbits, and oh, by the way, I know you've been only looking forward to my return since the day I left, but I'm leaving here for good.

What an absolute ass.

Narylfiel wrenched open the door to the kitchens, causing every last one of the cooks and servers to jump from the loud bang of the door hitting the wall.  Her eyes swept past them and landed on the prince.

"I thought I might find you down here," Narylfiel said, eyeing Prince Legolas at the table in the corner, a half eaten berry tart before him. She forced a smile for the cooks and staff still at work. "Will you give us a moment?"

She waited until the last of the cooks left.

"What are you doing down here?" she hissed.  "You need to return to the party and speak to your father."

He narrowed his eyes.  "Is that an order from my queen?"

All she could think about was Thranduil, his disappointment, the way his heartache burned through the bond they shared despite whatever brave face he wore for his court.  Legolas' words had gutted his father.  She pulled the large ring from her finger and set it down on the counter space, followed by her delicate crown. "It's a command from the person who's about to beat some sense into you."

Legolas did not get up.  Instead he took another measured bite of his berry tart. 

"Really, Narylfiel?" he asked, not looking up.  "Doesn't seem like very queenly behavior."

"How about this?" She stormed over to the table and swept his plate to the floor.

Legolas set down his spoon. His eyes flicked to hers. 

"Go back to the party, Narylfiel.  We are done here."

"I'm not going without you." she insisted.  "Your father, Legolas—"

"Prepare for disappointment," he cut her off. "I'm not going back with you."

He stood, and Narylfiel grabbed his arm.  "Let go," he warned her. 

"Not until you go back with me. You can't leave him like that, Legolas." 

"I think we both know that's not going to happen, and you're not big enough to make me," Legolas countered.  "You're being completely unreasonable. Now let go."

Narylfiel tightened her grip. "I love your father, Legolas, and you hurt him just now.  Please go back and speak with him."

Legolas wrapped his other hand around the wrist of her hand on his arm and tightened his grip, just enough to cut off her circulation.  "I left to avoid a scene, Narylfiel. Now let go of my arm."

"Looks like you left one to land right in another," she said and used her remaining free hand to clamp on to the wrist of Legolas' hand holding onto her wrist.  She pressed her thumb into the soft skin of his wrist and began to squeeze.

His mouth thinned into a straight line. "This is ridiculous. We both know I could have you on the ground in seconds if I wanted to."

"You think so?" She checked his words with a tug to his arm. Legolas jerked back hard, but Narylfiel did not lose her grip on his arm.

"Remember all those times in the ring, Narylfiel?" he said warningly.  "I never enjoyed seeing you hurt, but it was necessary then to train you, and if it's necessary now, I'll do it again."

"Good times, Legolas. But I'm hardly that little girl anymore." She thought about sweeping his leg with her foot and noted with some dismay that such maneuvers were not possible when wearing heavy elegantly-beaded skirts.  Instead she threw her weight to his left and when he faltered she used that split-second to pull him toward the door.

Legolas' soft-soled boots slid easily across the slick stone floor, so he lifted his arm to try to shake her off, and in that moment, Narylfiel lost her balance and Legolas' feet slid out beneath him, and they both ended up in a heap on the floor. 

Legolas sighed. "Go back to the dining hall, Narylfiel.  Dance with my father. I see how happy you make him, and I did mean what I said earlier."

Narylfiel rubbed her elbow, tingling painfully where it hit the floor.  "Then why leave, Legolas? Because he thinks it is because of him...and me." 

"Valar, no! Narylfiel, no. I just—I fell in love with the land in Ithilien and want to help. And it's completely selfish of me, but I want to be near the friends I've made."

"Mortals," Narylfiel said understandingly. 

"One of them is a dwarf!" Legolas whispered and then made a face.  "Can you imagine what Father would say?"

"Well..." Narylfiel

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