Guarded

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Thank you everybody who voted and commented on the last chapter: GG-Dreamer, Niepoprawneslowa, Rose5607, Princesswithashotgun, Bre2333 , natalia_vegas, northern_nights, havecouragebkind, EreaneofMirkwood, The_Midnight_Fangirl, and Shadowspinner, featherfrenzy!

. . . . . . . .
2946, Third Age

"Father," Legolas said one night after they had all sat down to dinner. The kitchen had prepared roast venison with gravy and new potatoes again; it was one of King Thranduil's favorites. He was always in a better mood when the staff served it, paired with his current favorite vintage of red. As a result, Narylfiel had secretly deemed it the 'ask for something' meal.

Thranduil looked up from his plate after fastidiously dabbing at the corner of his mouth with his napkin. "Yes, son?"

"I would like to take Thaliniel and her sister to visit Dale for a week or so," Legolas said evenly, sharing a glance with his wife.

Both Thaliniel and Narylfiel's eager smiles did not go unnoticed by the king who stabbed a little potato with his fork.

"Dale?" he said, cutting a delicate slice off his venison to accompany the piece of potato on his fork. "Whatever for?"

"They are having a spring festival again, like they used to in the days before the dragon," Legolas countered. "It would be a good opportunity to build on our diplomatic relations with their new king."

Thranduil pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "Their new king- who, the dragon slayer? Bard? He's well enough as men go, I suppose."

"I know you commissioned builders to rebuild your former town home there, Father," Legolas said carefully. "We could stay there and see the town, visit the festival."

It was true, Thranduil thought. He had paid masons and laborers to rebuild his own town home, the very one he had bought so long ago when he chased after his errant son and Thaliniel before they had married. It did not have anything to do with him feeling nostalgic-not in the slightest! He was simply trying to help provide jobs and income to the needy, recovering populace of Laketown. Thranduil pensively chewed his venison and washed it down with a sip of wine before studying the eager faces of the three young elves before him.

"You may go," he said and paused long enough for the excited chatter to die down, "as a show of our continued goodwill."

"Oh, King Thranduil," Narylfiel exclaimed, "would you please come with us?"

Legolas started coughing, something that sounded remarkably like 'Valar, no!' and Thaliniel all of a sudden seemed preoccupied with tearing the roll on her plate into tiny shreds.

The king's eyes met Narylfiel's bright gaze. "No, I would not go back to Dale, if I could help it. Men, wizards, dwarves...the city seems a portent to change, and the soil there is still too red with the blood of our fallen. No, I would not return there for any price."

Legolas' coughing fit subsided, and he looked upon his father with a mixture of relief and remorse. "We will miss you, of course, Father."

Thranduil smiled wryly. "Give my regards to Bard, and try not to get into any more trouble," he said and then went to work finishing his dinner, one of his favorites. No one could make gravy like his head cook. From the corner of his eye, he watched Narylfiel quietly finish her meal. She seemed disappointed.

Thranduil left his family at the table minutes later, having grown weary of listening to the ladies and Legolas' discussion about Dale and the Spring Festival. He meant what he had said about never wanting to return to that place; its charm had died alongside his Elven warriors in the Battle of Five Armies.

He was only halfway down the hall when Narylfiel caught up to him. "I think you should come with us," she said.

"No." He stopped, looked at her, his eyes mildly amused. "You still have your napkin in your hand from dinner."

She glanced down at the wadded up cloth. "I left in a hurry to try and catch you!" Narylfiel folded it into a tidy square. "Why won't you come to Dale? Leave the palace...it can run without you, you know."

Thranduil shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Legolas would prefer I stay here."

"That is hardly a reason," Narylfiel contradicted, her cheeks heating up, knowing that her king rarely considered anyone else's wishes in his decision making. "Please?" She looked up at him through her long, tangled lashes.

He hesitated, and she smiled, adding temptingly, "I heard from one of our raft-elves that the open market has really grown in the past five years. Erebor's patronage has reached out to all sorts of vendors-the cloth maker's guild especially."

Thranduil arched an elegant eyebrow. "Cloth makers, you say? As if dwarves would know the slightest about anything fashion related."

"Might be worth checking into," Narylfiel prodded.

"It might be," Thranduil conceded, "but I have no desire to return to Dale." He then signaled the end of the conversation by resuming his walk down the hall.

Narylfiel did not return to the dining room. She had lost her appetite.
. . . . . . . .
November, 3018

The woods were soft and grey in the shaded morning light under the trees when Thranduil and Narylfiel discovered that their sure-footed ride had probably returned to Dale and was already happily munching oats in the stable where the Elvenking had bought him. So it was that both elves found themselves strolling through the forest, and even though Thranduil had grumbled a lot about the unreliable nature of man-raised horses, Narylfiel felt fairly certain that her king enjoyed their hike through the woods. He took time to point out how the lichens growing on a certain tree resembled King Dain or the symmetry in three tall firs growing together on the hillside, or how bright the ice shone along the surface of the River Running through the trees. And for just a little while, Thranduil remembered how much he loved the song of the wind through the trees and he was just as a elf should be-in the wild woods, listening to the quiet refrain and sway of the pines and the harmony of good, growing things.

Last night's events had convinced the Elvenking to return to Dale. After running into Maubûrz and his band of cutthroats, Thranduil felt that he should warn the city of the impending attack from the east. In truth, the king did not relish the idea of returning to Dale again and quietly said as much to Narylfiel.

Despite the king's reserve, Narylfiel was ecstatic. She adored visiting Dale and had made the trip many times with Legolas and Thaliniel. "I'm glad we're going back, especially now that I feel better to enjoy it. The people, the markets, the sound of children's laughter! I love it."

"The noise, the smell, the impertinent staring... I detest it." Thranduil crinkled his nose for her benefit and waited to see her reaction out of the corner of his eye. "But once I enjoyed their fresh market and the wine, of course. Legolas tells me the king and his family are tolerable folk."

"Tolerable folk? Really, Thranduil!" Narylfiel let out an exasperated sigh. "They are good people and have always been welcoming and warm whenever I have visited."

Thranduil arched his eyebrow as he took her hand to guide her around a slick fall of rocks where run-off from the hillside had frozen. "Warm and welcoming!" he retorted. "I suppose that is because King Brand has fancied you since he was a gawky adolescent."

Narylfiel's eyes widened, and she stopped mid-step. "No..." she drew the word out and gave him an incredulous look. "I watched him grow up! No," she repeated herself and shook her head.

Thranduil looked faintly amused as he reached for her hand and drew her closer, until there was only a hand's breadth between them. "I watched you grow up," he told her, his eyes soft, and his breath warmed her cheek.

"That's different," she countered stubbornly.

"Perhaps," the king agreed, "but you, of all people, must agree that age does not always matter to the heart." He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips, and smiled at her.

"Just wait until we get to Dale," Narylfiel pressed. "Then you will see that it is hardly a thing."

Thranduil smirked a little. "You know, Legolas told me of this. He said Brand was bad, but his son Bard was even worse. 'Besotted' is the word he used- and for Legolas to notice!- well, it must be pretty obvious."

"Hmph," Narylfiel crossed her arms and picked up her pace, mumbling something that Thranduil thought sounded a lot like 'nosy gossips' but he couldn't be sure.

A little past noon when the sun was still high in sky, Thranduil and Narylfiel heard the soft patter of many hooves and before long, the Royal Guard appeared, swiftly riding through the trees- their armor and helms catching the light from the sun overhead.

Reluctantly, Thranduil let go of Narylfiel's hand. "Not just yet," he told her softly, and she watched with a mixture of admiration and regret as he transformed from the elf who had only minutes ago been trying to beat her in making up the silliest song about their adventure to being the Elvenking, all grace, all authority. He called to his guard in his 'King Thranduil' voice as Narylfiel liked to think of it, and the guards responded with shouts of their own-hailing their king and voicing their great relief to finding him and Narylfiel unharmed.

The guards collectively formed ranks as they neared; they offered a mixture of Thranduil's personal Royal Guard and members of the Forest Guard, all of whom Beriadan, their captain had hand-picked as the fastest riders, the most deadly at arms. At the front, Elfir, who had long stood as the head of Thranduil's royal detail, saluted his king and then greeted him merrily. "King Thranduil, you find us much relieved to find you and Lady Narylfiel well."

Thranduil clasped his arm and thanked him along with all of the guard. Then he met shortly with Elfir, briefly explaining to him much of the most recent events. He then ordered half of his guards to continue toward Erebor in search of Maubúrz and his ring of spies, with orders to capture them and bring them to King Brand's hall in the city of Dale. Thranduil and the rest of his guard, including Narylfiel, would meet them there, for he had learned of a threat toward Dale that he could not in good faith ignore. Even if Thranduil deserved a reputation as an isolationist in his policies, he did generally care for the people of Dale and valued protecting his trade above all. He would much rather not risk a disruption in the trading routes that fed his halls with supplies via the Celduin.

If any of the guards looked disapprovingly upon Narylfiel as joined their group, she pretended not to notice. She certainly pretended not to notice Elfir's disdainful glance when he brushed past her to speak with the king. Meanwhile, two of Narylfiel's friend from the Forest Guard, Melui and Alassien, caught her into a fierce hug.

"We were so worried for you, Narylfiel! After we saw all the dead orcs close to the border, we did not know what to think!" Melui told her, her eyes bright. Melui had been Narylfiel's first true friend in the Forest Guard, and if many of the elves were put off by Narylfiel's close connection to the royal family, Melui was not. On Narylfiel's first day of serving in the guard, she had taken Narylfiel under her wing and had been her friend ever since.

"Then we found your horse and the king's elk, we really did not know what to think!" Alassien chimed in, hooking his long arm around Narylfiel's shoulders and ruffling her hair. Narylfiel immediately angled to return the favor, reaching for his dark braided hair until he playfully dodged her.

"When Elfir sent me into Dale to check the King's townhome," Melui continued, rolling her eyes at their exchange, "the couple there told us you had been hurt and the king was taking you to Erebor for some medicine."

Alassien released Narylfiel and looked her over, concern showing in his warm grey eyes. "How are you, Narylfiel? Are you still injured?"

Narylfiel smoothed down her hair and hesitated. "I am...I have been better," she said wryly. "But King Thranduil has been very gracious and very kind."

Alassien and Melui shared a disbelieving glance. "You have to know," Alassien told her quietly, "that the king was beyond upset when he discovered you were missing. I have seen him angry before, but all of those times fell short of his fury when I saw him leaving."

Narylfiel nodded and glanced over at her king, still discussing matters with Elfir. "He was angry," she admitted. "He relieved me of my position in the Guard."

Melui gasped and then pulled her young friend back into her arms. "We were afraid that might happen," she said, her voice catching. "But maybe after a furlough, he would let you join again."

Narylfiel shook her head. "No, I do not think so. He was pretty clear about my role changing." She could not say any more, but both her friends gave her sympathetic looks, and Alassien ruffled her hair again and whispered that she could always look into playing the harp or something-. a long-running joke between them. He knew her sister had always wanted Narylfiel to take up music, but she had always preferred hunting and weapons training.

The Royal Guard signaled they were ready to leave, and King Thranduil, riding his elk, which the guards had brought along with Narylfiel's horse, took his customary place toward the front. Narylfiel hung toward the back, choosing to ride by Melui, since Alassien had been chosen to go with the small group of guards intent on searching for Maubûrz and his group of ruffians and spies.

Part of Narylfiel longed to speed up and join Thranduil, but she also felt the unsaid censure of most of the guards. She had disobeyed. Her actions had put the king in danger. Instead, she rode in the back and tried not to draw attention to herself, and as she half-listened to Melui talk about the upcoming Yule feast, Narylfiel found her eyes drawn to Thranduil riding ahead of her, tall and proud, quietly talking with Elfir. At one point, he turned around, his blue eyes searching until they met hers. Narylfiel gave him a small smile. Thranduil did not return the gesture, and a little part of her shriveled inside. She hoped her disappointment did not show all over her face and quickly turned again to face Melui, feigning interest in what she was saying. Narylfiel chided herself for being silly to feel rejected for something so trivial. But still... This relationship was going to be much more difficult than she anticipated. All she really wanted was to be by his side, but now was not the place, nor the time. She would simply have to do her best to maintain appearances-. and keep her distance.

With sea-green standards flapping in the northern wind, the city gates of Dale were wide open when the wood elves finally arrived. After the Battle of the Five Armies, the dwarves of Erebor had done much to help the refugees from Laketown rebuild the stonework and walls of Dale back into its former glory. The city was bright and full of cheer as curious men, women, and children looked on from their homes and shops to see the elven guard in their gleaming armor ride past them, and whispers began to spread, fingers began to point. The Elvenking had returned to Dale.

The elves did not stop until the city's captains met them on the steps of the citadel in the center of the city where good King Brand kept court and ruled fairly. Among them was a face Thranduil remembered well, and said so as he dismounted and greeted the young man.

"Prince Bard, well met. Your great-grandsire's blood still runs strong, I see. You are just like him."

"King Thranduil," the young man said with a bow, his eyes wide with admiration, "we are honored by your visit. Please, my father will want to see you, of course."

Thranduil nodded graciously. He and the other elves swept into an elegant column behind the captains. Narylfiel followed along, until she passed by Bard. He let out an oath when he saw her.

"Lady Narylfiel! Durin's beard!" he exclaimed and took her by the hand. "I have not seen you for ages!"

"It has been too long," she agreed, warmly her eyes lighting up. The other elves continued gracefully up the steps, sleek and silvery in the later sunlight. She would just be a minute. She was sure she could catch up to them. "Three years, I think?" she guessed.

Bard laughed. "Try five, Lady Narylfiel!" He shook his head but grinned. "Ah, to be an elf, I suppose."

Narylfiel returned his smile easily. "How is your family, Bard? Where is Eydis?"

As soon as the name left her lips, Narylfiel knew she had said the wrong thing. Bard's cheerful expression vanished and grief filled his eyes, slumped his shoulders.

"Oh, no...I'm sorry, Bard. I did not know," Narylfiel said sorrowfully, remembering how on her last visit, Bard and Eydis had only recently married. Eydis, with her bright eyes and laughter, teasing Bard for a moonlit race around the city walls, Eydis was somehow gone; it did not seem possible.

"No, 'tis nothing you could have known of," the young man said with a determined glint in his eyes. "It happened in the cold spell at the beginning of last spring- the wasting fever, it spread through the city so fast, and she had been stubborn about helping to bring meals to some of the sick. By the time we realized...there was nothing we could do."

Narylfiel impulsively pulled him into her arms, recalling when he was just a little boy and how upset he was when Legolas announced that they were leaving to return to the forest. She had hugged him then, all dark curls and big brown eyes, and had promised to bring him a treat on her next visit. No amount of treats could fix this now.

"Bard, I'm so sorry! If we had known, we could have come and helped," she said quietly, her eyes burning.

"You did know," Bard told her, pulling back from her embrace and dragging his hand through his messy brown curls. "At least your king knew. We sent a message asking for aid, and he sent some healers and supplies."

"I didn't know," Narylfiel said slowly. "I would have come had I known." Her eyes drifted up to the Main Hall where Thranduil and his guard had disappeared. He had never mentioned it. Had Legolas or Thaliniel known?

She stayed and talked with him, hoping to lighten his mood, until Elfir reappeared at the top of the steps, a none too pleased expression on his face and his arms folded across his chest.

He clearly waited for her, and when it became evident that she was in no hurry to run up the steps to see what he wanted, Elfir descended to the courtyard facing the street, where Narylfiel and Bard still conversed under the bare branches of a small tree.

He did not have to announce his presence to them; Elfir was as nearly tall as the king, and fairly intimidating in his Royal Guard armor. Bard's voice trailed away mid-sentence, and both the man and elleth turned to look up at the guard.

"I suppose it is too much to ask that you stay with the rest of the group, Narylfiel?" Elfir asked archly.

"I am sorry, Elfir," Narylfiel started.

"Do not be too cross with her," Bard joined in. "It was my fault."

Elfir slowly turned and eyed Bard. "I need to speak with her privately," he said and looked at the young man expectantly.

Bard

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