DEAR READERS, I am completely blown away and encouraged and crying happy slobbery tears by your response to the latest chapter. These last couple of weeks have been a bit of a hard go for me in RL—kidney stones, surgery, recovery, it's been completely miserable. BUT life in the fandom, here with all you wonderfully supportive people has been great. So thank you for giving me a reason to keep writing.

2946, Third Age

Very early in the morning, when the sky was still black and the stars had yet to go to bed, Narylfiel giggled to herself as she crept down the hall to her room.

"What are you doing?" Legolas stepped out from the shadows, and Narylfiel froze.

"Leg'las," she whispered loudly, eyes wide, her hands waving. "Shh. Don't wake Thaliniel."

"Did you know your sister was waiting up for you? Worried about you?" He tilted his head and then sniffed. "Valar, Narylfiel, you smell like the inside of my father's wine cellar."

She slapped her hand over her mouth and stifled another giggle. "Sorry, I knew we should never've opened that third bottle."

"We?" Legolas asked primly.

Narylfiel shook her head again, her hair falling into her face. "F'rget I said anything. S'only having fun and looking at the star showers." She turned dramatically at her door and then fumbled with the handle before letting herself in.

Legolas watched her stumble into her room and flop onto the bed. She was going to be miserable the next morning. He followed after her and poured a tall glass of water from the pitcher by her wash basin. "Drink this," he told her. "It'll help with the—" His eyes caught sight of movement in the mirror on her dressing table, which faced the low-lit hallway. He peered out the door.

His father, the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm, meandered down the hall in his bare feet, carrying his tall leather boots in one hand and a half full bottle of wine in the other. There were odd bits of heather stuck to his hair and the back of his tunic.

Legolas' eyes darted from his father back to Narylfiel who let out a less than dainty snore. Never had he been so thankful that he talked Thaliniel into going to bed. He could not imagine what his wife might say if she thought the king, his father, had gotten her baby sister drunk. He half-wondered if he should say anything to his father now, but really—what was there to say? Could he really suggest to the king that he needed to be a better role model to his wife's impressionable young sister? And between the pair of them, Legolas was not quite sure who was more responsible for corrupting who. So he quietly pulled Narylfiel's door shut, padded down the hall to his own room, and resolved to forget what he saw that night.

Thaliniel woke up feeling more refreshed than she had in ages. There really was something to be said for a good night's rest in one's own bed, she decided. Legolas was nowhere to be seen, but Thaliniel wasn't surprised. He had always been an early riser. She made quick work of getting dressed before hurrying down the hall to her sister's room. Surely, Narylfiel would be up and ready for breakfast. Thaliniel rapped smartly three times on the door in the same way she always had.

No answer. She supposed Narylfiel might have left early for training or some sort of guard work. Thaliniel hesitated, her hand on the door knob, when she spied the royal guard at the end of the hall.

"Melui?" she exclaimed, hugging her. "You've been promoted to the Royal Guard?"

Melui shrugged, all smiles. "But look at you, Princess Thaliniel with child! Oh, the king will be overjoyed."

Thaliniel beamed. "I am longing to see Narylfiel. Is she on patrol? I wanted to check on her last night, but it was already so late."

Melui's eyes darted down the hall. "Oh, she's here, probably taking breakfast in the main hall soon, so..."

Thaliniel considered this. "I thought she might have come by to say hello."

Elfir cleared his throat and gave Melui a stern look. "Princess Thaliniel, I'm sure she didn't want to wake you, especially after such a late arrival."

Thaliniel nodded and started down the hall toward the dining hall. Halfway down the hall, she stopped, her eyes cutting back toward her sister's room, and turned around.

She breezed past the two guards and went straight to her Narylfiel's door. This time she did not bother with knocking, but rather opened the door right away.

Melui exchanged a worried look with Elfir.

Thaliniel's eyes swept the room. The room was tidy. No clothes on the floor. Bed made. No hairbrush or pile of ratty hair ties lying on her sister's dressing table. Her gaze lingered at the hearth, not a speck of dust or ash in sight. But it wasn't the lack of clothes on the floor or the spotless fireplace or the neatly made bed that had Thaliniel yelling down the hall for the guards; her sister's dilapidated stuffed rabbit was missing from its usual sentry place on the mantle.

"Melui!" Thaliniel pointed inside the room. "This room's not been lived in by Narylfiel. I know you know. Where is my sister?"

Melui swallowed uncomfortably.

"She is right here," Narylfiel said from the hall.

Thaliniel spun and in seconds had pulled her into a tight embrace. "Oh my goodness, Narylfiel. I saw your room—all empty and didn't know what to think." She pulled back and studied her sister. "My goodness! Look at you. Hair all done, lovely gown instead of sparring clothes—Who are you and what have you done with my sister?"

Narylfiel smiled. "Welcome back, Thaliniel. When did you get in last night?"

"Very late. Legolas wasn't going to stop for anything though. I think he wanted to avoid any fanfare, you know."

"Sounds like him," Narylfiel agreed.

Her sister studied her again. "You've changed, Narylfiel. And I don't just mean your clothes...there's something different about you. Her eyes drifted down to the ring on her sister's finger.

"Is that—" Thaliniel's eyes widened.

"It is," Narylfiel said, blushing.

"You married?" Thaliniel hugged her little sister again and then seized her hand to admire the ring. "That is no small gem on that ring... who? Who..." Her eyes drifted from the ring to Narylfiel's fine gown to the thin silver circlet atop her head.

Thaliniel's mouth fell open a little, and she shook her head. "No." She fixed her eyes on Narylfiel. "It can't be. I don't believe it."

Her head snapped toward Elfir. "Where is the king?"

Elfir looked as uncomfortable as Thaliniel had ever seen him. "In his study, with the prince."

"We are going there right now." Thaliniel took hold of her sister's arm, none too gently. "Right now."

Thranduil handed his son a glass. "Sit down, Legolas. There's something you need to know about Narylfiel."

Legolas sat down, glass in hand, and looked up at his father. "What about Narylfiel?" he asked.

Thranduil took a sip of his wine. "This is a good vintage, son. You should try it."

Legolas obliged his father. "I have to say that I have missed your wine cellar in the time I've been gone," he admitted. "A good dry red was in short supply during my travels."

'I can only imagine," Thranduil said and steepled his fingers together.

"You were going to tell me something about Narylfiel?" Legolas prodded. "She's doing all right, isn't she?"

"She is," Thranduil said. "She is happy, healthy, and full of mischief as usual."

Legolas paused for another sip. "So tell me about our new queen, Father. Who did you marry? Did Narylfiel set you up?"

"Well, in her own way—" Thranduil began before Legolas interrupted.

"Is it Rubawen?" he asked, grinning.

"No, it's not, but—"

"Wait," Legolas said, eyes widening. "You didn't—" He grimaced.

Thranduil took a long swallow from his glass and braced himself.

"Please tell me you did not marry Lady Almea." Legolas looked up nervously at his father.

"Valar, no!" exclaimed Thranduil, looking affronted.

"Because I absolutely refuse to call Lord Filron my uncle," Legolas teased and made a face. "Ugh."

"You wouldn't anyway because he's dead," Thranduil told him flatly.

"Dead," repeated Legolas. "Now I feel bad. How did that happen?"

"It's a long story," sighed Thranduil. "Long enough to fill a whole book, I'd wager." He stopped and gave himself a moment by topping off the wine in their glasses. "Legolas, there's something I need you to understand. Once long ago, your grandfather told me a story of sacrifice and leadership, the story of the arrow and the hart. At the time I did not want to listen, did not want to hear it. I knew your grandfather wanted me to make an advantageous match for our kingdom. King Oropher said I needed to be like a hart in our forest, ready to lay down his life for the needs of others." Thranduil met his son's eyes. "You've heard this tale before," he said.

"You know I have," Legolas answered quietly. "You told that story to me when you didn't want me to court Thaliniel."

"Which you promptly ignored regardless," Thranduil pointed out.

"Best decision I ever made." Legolas took a careful sip of his wine.

"And I ended up marrying your mother." Thranduil took a long drink from his glass. "I want you to understand, Legolas. I loved your mother."

"I know, Father." Legolas said, his eyes distant. "We both did." And neither stated the obvious. Their love wasn't enough, had never been enough for her.

"I think this 2931 is one of my favorite years in a long time. Do you taste those floral notes?" Thranduil asked and delicately swirled the contents of his glass. "Take another drink, son."

Thranduil waited for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of his son before him. To his eyes, Legolas was the much the same as he had been before he left, but even so, there were differences that a careful father's eye could discern—the sharper angles to his cheeks, the added broadness in his chest and shoulders, and a barely concealed shadow of grief in his eyes. His Legolas had gone as the sole representative of elves in Arda on a quest to defeat Sauron, and Thranduil wondered what terrors and battles his son endured along the road from Rivendell to the Black Gate.

"Father?" Legolas looked up from his glass.

"For too long I have played the role of both the arrow and the hart for our kingdom. As prince and then king, I did what had to be done. But you—you made me see that perhaps, there are other ways. Even though I may be the king of this realm, I can also be just an elf. And now, I'm rambling." Thranduil stopped himself, met his son's eyes across the room.

"I married Narylfiel while you were gone."

His son looked up at him blankly.

Thranduil tried again. "Narylfiel and I—we got married, Legolas."

It was at this moment Thaliniel burst through the door as Dorwil looked on aghast. "But Princess Thaliniel, please wait! The king will see you in a—" the word died on his lips.

"The king can see me now," Thaliniel said archly, cutting her eyes to Thranduil who returned her look with his typical aplomb.

"Thaliniel," he said smoothly, "how lovely you look. Congratulations to both you and Legolas."

"Thank you, your grace," she said, a brief smile lighting up her face—but only for a moment—because in the next second, she pulled Narylfiel through the door.

"Erm, hello, Legolas," Narylfiel said. "Good to see you back. Congratulations on, you know, saving the world and all."

Legolas, who to this point had been silent, quietly took in the sight of his wife's little sister at the door. "Thanks," he said, finding his voice. "It's—it's good to see you, Narylfiel."

"How did this happen?" Thaliniel paused between each word, and then she fixed her eyes on her husband, sitting on the low couch with his enormous glass of wine. "Did he tell you? And you're fine with it?"

Legolas twisted the glass uncomfortably between his fingers. "Fine about what? About getting married? I, err—" His eyes drifted toward Narylfiel by the door, lovely in mist gray silk, a thin circlet on her head.

"Oh," he said and paled. "Oh, Valar."

Thaliniel bristled. "Legolas, really? We come back after being gone for a few months to find your father, YOUR father has married my baby sister. And the best you can manage is 'Oh?'"

Then she turned on Thranduil. "And you! I trusted her with you! My baby sister."

The Elvenking did not blink at this charge.

"You. Father. And Narylfiel." Legolas' gaze moved slowly from his father and then to Narylfiel and then back to his father once more. He swallowed once and then stood up. Wine glass in hand, he wordlessly walked to the door.

"Legolas." Thranduil said. His son did not turn around.

"Great," Narylfiel threw her hands up. "What is your problem, Thaliniel?"

"My problem?" Thaliniel gestured to the king. "My problem is that the king, my father-in-law, seduced my sweet baby sister."

Eyes blazing, Narylfiel rounded on her sister. "You are making things worse. First, Thranduil did not seduce me." She met her husband's eyes across the room. "Despite my best attempts to encourage it."

Legolas tensed at the door as if struck. He placed one hand on the door frame as if for support, and then brought his wine glass to his lips and drank. And drank. And drank, until not a drop remained. He then sat the glass down on the sideboard and carefully wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Legolas gave the briefest of nods to Dorwil still standing guard outside the king's study and then drew the doors shut. The rest of the room had gone silent, and when the prince finally turned to face the others, he favored his father with a long, curious look. Then still saying nothing, his eyes slid to Narylfiel, tall and elegant beside his wife. She wore a beautifully delicate circlet in her hair and a frosty white gem shone on her finger. Legolas' mouth drew into a funny thin line, as if he could hardly decide whether to laugh or frown and so settled for neither.

He cleared his throat, still burning from the Dorwinion. "You don't want to be the arrow or the hart any more," he said to his father. His words sank into the silence.

"No," Thranduil's eyes slid to Narylfiel before he replied evenly. "I do not."

Legolas nodded pensively. "It was sort of a miserable analogy, wasn't it?"

"It was," his father agreed.

"How—how long has this been going on?" Legolas asked.

"After you left," Thranduil replied quietly.

Thaliniel narrowed her eyes at the king and folded her arms. "I have long suspected you cared for him, Narylfiel."

Narylfiel's voice went soft. "You have?"

"You weren't exactly subtle," her sister told her. "But to return and find you married..."

Narylfiel's eyes darted from Thranduil to his son. "I love your father, Legolas," she said. "I've always loved him."

Thaliniel pursed her lips. "King Thranduil is Legolas' father, Narylfiel. It's...weird."

"What?" Narylfiel asked. "It was good enough for you to have your happy ending with Legolas, but I can't be with Thranduil?"

Legolas blinked, his eyes darting from his wife to her sister and then to his father who stoically continued to sip his wine. "This is...Well, Father, you and Narylfiel, err..." His lips parted as if he meant to say something, and then thinking better of it, closed his mouth firmly and shook his head. His hands, usually so certain of themselves in battle, scrabbled for the door handle behind him, and once finding purchase, the prince cracked open the door and slipped out.

Thranduil's eyes flickered at his son's abrupt departure, and then he picked up the open wine bottle. "Ladies," he said, with a slight incline of his head, and he left the room.

Her heart sinking, Narylfiel watched him go and then glared at her sister. "You need to get over yourself," she told Thaliniel. "Of all the things he's done for you—done for us, and you couldn't show him the slightest bit of understanding?

Thaliniel opened her mouth slightly as if to respond, but Narylfiel hardly wanted to listen.

"Why can't you be happy for me, for us?" Narylfiel locked eyes with her sister and the next words came out sounding so small, hurt. "I was happy for you when you married Legolas."

"Are you happy, dearest?" Thaliniel asked. "I—I just think you could have made a better match."

"A better match?" cried Narylfiel in disbelief. "Are you blind, sister? He's beautiful and kind and the king, not that I care about that, but he's my best friend...and I love him. I've always loved him."

Thaliniel drew her sister's hand into her own, held it tightly. "I know you do, Narylfiel. But I'm worried that he might be hard on you, too stern. He's so...old, and that temper of his—"

Narylfiel patted her sister's hand reassuringly before letting go. "I appreciate your concern, but I would appreciate your support even more. Please. I'm going to look for Legolas."

Thaliniel watched her sister go and for a second, she had to remind herself that the poised, elegant lady leaving the room was actually her little sister. Narylfiel had grown up.

Narylfiel found Legolas, not surprisingly, at the archery range, with a long stretch of green field glistening in the morning light between him and the shadows of far targets against the tree line. Typical Legolas. He had a whole basket of arrows open on the ground beside his feet.

"New bow?" she asked him after