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Two hundred years ago...

Galion smiled from his position by the fireplace when he saw Lady Narylfiel bounce into the King's study. Thranduil had been particularly difficult earlier- nothing had pleased him! The tea had been too cool, then too milky, and he had decided that the bookshelf should be rearranged according to subject, rather than title. So the sudden appearance of Lady Narylfiel was a most welcome distraction indeed.

The young elleth was not in the least bit put off by the King's glowering from his armchair. "King Thranduil, I have heard from a reliable source that you had finished early for the day," she said brightly.

The king's eyes accused Galion from across the room.

Wide-eyed, the butler shook his head and mouthed 'It wasn't me!'

The king turned his attention to Narylfiel. Bow in hand, with her quiver on her back, she had a determined look on her face. "Your majesty, would you like to come to the archery range with me?"

Thranduil shifted in his chair. He picked up his glass, and then sat it back down when he realized it was disappointingly empty. "Narylfiel, you should ask Legolas to go with you."

"He's busy," she said quickly, "and I really wanted to go with you. I wanted to show you how I can use my new bow."

Thranduil looked up. "A new bow? Already?"

She proudly showed it to him. "Well, it's obviously one of Legolas' old training bows. He said he didn't think I was strong enough to use it, but I've been pulling some extra training sessions to build up my strength." She grinned a little and flexed her arm.

The king pushed himself out of his chair. "Impressive," he remarked. "I suppose I had better go see this," he told her.

As King Thranduil followed her out the door, Galion heard him inform Narylfiel, "You know, if you can pull that bow, then you're stronger than Legolas was at your age." Narylfiel snickered and Galion was fairly certain he heard the king join in.

. . . . .

Three days before Yule, 3018 T.A:

Rivenion already had his little leather book open on the table when Narylfiel hurried into another deplorable session of queen lessons.

"Lady Narylfiel, please have a seat," he said and gestured to the chair across from him.

"Good morning, Lord Rivenion," she said, gritting her teeth in her attempt to sound pleasant.

His eyes flicked over her appearance: simple, but nice morning dress, hair shining and brushed, no bruises on her skin, a definite improvement. "You look much more well put together this morning, Lady Narylfiel, but you are very pale. Are you not sleeping well?"

Narylfiel pursed her lips. She really did not want to go into the details with this nosy busy-body. "I am still recuperating from my injury and the poison," she said stiffly. In truth, she did feel tired. She felt worn out- just from the long walk over to the other side of the palace to meet Rivenion. It was frustrating, to say the least, to Narylfiel who had always prided herself in her strength and athletic ability.

"I see," Rivenion answered and jotted down a note in his little book. "We'll keep today's meeting short then. I would like to discuss your responsibilities as queen. Of course, King Thranduil will ultimately decide, but you will be expected to take on a larger role in the running of the palace and household."

Narylfiel stifled a groan. "I would not want to impinge on any of Galadhor's domain, though," she said politely. Galadhor had been Thranduil's chief of staff for as long as she had lived there and ran the household and palace with precision.

"Galadhor may welcome the help, young lady. I am not saying that you will assume the running of the entire palace staff, but taking on a little more responsibility would serve you well," Rivenion said and thoughtfully steepled his fingers. "You need to gain the respect of Thranduil's court, but you also should invest your time in gaining the appreciation of his staff and servants."

"I have always spoken with kindness and appreciation to the servants and workers," Narylfiel insisted.

"I have heard that about you," Rivenion agreed, "but you also need to present yourself in an official-"

"-Excuse me?" Narylfiel interrupted him, frowning. "You heard what about me? So you've been going around asking about me to people, to the king's household staff?"

Rivenion actually had the gall to look pleased with himself. "Yes, of course," he said, not offering any excuses, "and I must say that I was pleased with what they had to say about you. Hardly a bad word was said."

Narylfiel was livid. "How dare you? Going around looking for the worst that people might say about me! And for what? To use as ammunition against me?"

Lord Rivenion looked aghast. "I hardly meant it in such a negative capacity, Lady Narylfiel. I was merely-"

Narylfiel abruptly stood up, the chair screeching across the floor as she did so. "We are finished," she said. The room spun for a second; she should not have stood up so quickly. She haughtily made her way to the door before Rivenion's words made her pause.

"They said you make the king happy."

Narylfiel turned and met his eyes.

"More than one person mentioned it," he said and cleared his throat. He shut his notebook with a sigh. "I have known the king for many long years. His first marriage, Queen Elarien- well, she was everything a queen should be: beautiful, graceful, elegant. But for all her loveliness and proud bloodlines, she was weak. The servants and palace staff despised her. She was cold and indifferent to them and their work...and she did not make our king happy."

Narylfiel's eyes softened. "Which quality is the most important for a queen to have?" she heard herself say, although she dreaded his response.

"I had wondered should you ask me this, what my answer would be," Rivenion said, "And what's more important is what you believe. We can discuss it in our next meeting."

"You just can't give me a straight answer, can you, Lord Rivenion," Narylfiel declared, but with much less vitriol than before.

Rivenion watched her leave and then smiled to himself.
. . . . .
Later that afternoon found Narylfiel with the seamstress for the final fitting on her gown for the Yule feast. Her friend Melui, from the Forest Guard, watched amusedly from the vantage point of Narylfiel's bed.

"That dress," Melui said, the corners of her mouth quirking up, "really goes beyond anything I've ever seen you wear, Narylfiel!"

Narylfiel surveyed the dark green fall of the skirt with its golden threads shot through the cloth. She swished the skirt a little, watching how the color of the gown seemed gold in one light and green in the next, before the seamstress tsked at her to stay still so she could finish pinning the hem. "It may be a gift from King Thranduil," she admitted.

Melui sat up and laughed. "I knew it," she crowed triumphantly. "He has the best taste in clothes!" She fiddled with the lavender throw blanket on the bed, smoothing out its tassels. "He has always spoiled you, Narylfiel."

"You know he and I have always been friends," Narylfiel corrected her, forcing a smile. She felt light-headed like she needed to sit down. Surely it was just a side-effect of the blood grass or some of that other fortified nonsense the healers had been making her drink. She put her hand out to the bedpost to steady herself.

Melui eyed her curiously. "You and he are good for each other. So your troubles from Dale are on the mend? Will he let you rejoin the Forest Guard?"

"No..." Narylfiel felt the room shift a little, like she was sinking down into the floor. She tightened her grip on the bedpost and eyed the progress on pinning the dress.

Thankfully, the seamstress stood up and announced that she had finished for the day.

"May I help you in removing the dress, my lady?"

When Narylfiel did not answer right away, Melui interjected, "No, that's quite alright." She hopped up from the bed. "I will help her. Thank you for your time today. The dress is lovely." She waited for the seamstress to leave before unlacing the back of the garment.

"Are you feeling well, Narylfiel?" Melui asked concernedly as she loosened the back of the gown. "You look a little...ill?"

"Are you saying my gown is not flattering?" Narylfiel tried to joke. "Let's sit down for just a moment." She plopped down on the edge of her bed with a sigh.

"Do I need to go get someone?" Melui asked. She started toward the door.

"No! No, I am fine," Narylfiel waved her off. "Well, not perfectly fine, but nothing worry over. Come sit down with me."

Melui eyed her critically. "If you are sure..." She frowned a little and returned to her friend's side. "I remember what that creepy healer said in Dale, Narylfiel. I was there, remember?"

"Wilem is not creepy," Narylfiel said defensively. "He just wants to help."

"I am not so sure about that," Melui muttered. "But you would tell me if something was really wrong, wouldn't you?"

Narylfiel looked down at her lap. She wondered if-

"-Wouldn't you?" Melui repeated herself.

"What?" Narylfiel looked up, and the room started to spin again.

"Honestly, Narylfiel! Are you even listening to me?" Melui demanded and then watched open-mouthed as her friend leaned forward and then slithered off the side of the bed in a crumple of gold and green.

"Narylfiel!" Melui gasped and sank to the floor next to her, tried patting her too-pale cheek. Her eyes were closed. Melui reached for a pillow from the bed and then shoved it under her head. "Hold on, I'll be right back."

Melui raced to the door, flung it open. "Help!" she cried down the hall of the royal wing. "Lady Narylfiel is sick!"

Before Melui could finish her second cry for help, Elfir had already reached the door and behind him, King Thranduil. His face seemed like a thundercloud as he passed her.

Both elves immediately knelt beside the young elleth, but it was the king who tenderly smoothed the hair away from her face. It was the king who picked her up and lay her down on the bed.

"Elfir, please go get Lady Hûredhiel," Thranduil asked, and then he turned the full force of his gaze on Melui. "What happened?"

"Your Majesty, she had just finished her dress fitting, and we were talking, and she looked a little pale, and then she fainted," she explained in a rush. But her eyes were drawn to the way King Thranduil gently took Narylfiel's hand in his own and felt for her pulse.

He stroked her cheek and called to her softly at first, and then more loudly, "Narylfiel. Narylfiel!"

Narylfiel's eyes shot open, and she inhaled sharply. Her eyes found Melui first at the foot of the bed, and then she noticed Thranduil leaning over her.

"What happened?" she asked meekly and then scrambled to sit up.

Thranduil gently pushed her back down. "I sent for Hûredhiel."

Melui patted her on the leg. "I was talking to you and you just sort of fell over, Narylfiel. Some good listener you are."

Narylfiel's mouth twitched. "My apologies."

Thranduil did not seem to be listening either. Instead he adjusted the pillows to prop Narylfiel up, reaching for a blanket to cover her, and then he noticed the dress. "You look beautiful," he whispered.

Melui bit her lip; her eyes dancing between Narylfiel and the king. "She was really excited about that gown, Your Majesty. Great choice- colors and all, I mean."

Narylfiel stirred impatiently. "I think I could go down to the healers' and see Hûredhiel. No need for her to-"

Thranduil interrupted, "She's already on her way." His mouth tightened into a thin line as he looked down at her. "I thought you told me you were feeling so much better."

"Well..." Narylfiel hedged in a small voice. "There have been times when I have felt better, and some when I feel worse."

"Valar, Narylfiel!" Thranduil snapped. "What about last night at dinner then? You hardly ate anything."

"I told you that some of those nasty tonics from the healers have taken away my appetite," she said, matching his tone.

Melui started backing away toward the bedroom door. "I'm just going to go now." Neither the king nor her friend heard her; they were too busy glaring at one another.

Thranduil folded his arms defensively. "Oh, sure, the tonics!" he scoffed, his voice getting louder with each word, "but you leave out the part about feeling dizzy all the time?"

Melui continued to creep toward the door.

Narylfiel's eyes blazed. "You don't have to be so angry. It's my health we're talking about here, not yours!"

"Of course, I'm angry, Narylfiel!" Thranduil all but shouted. "You cannot keep these sorts of things from me."

"I didn't want to worry you!" she exclaimed, thumping the pillow beside her with her fist.

Thranduil threw up his hands in frustration. His control had completely slipped. His face was a riot of hurt, and anger, and concern all at once. "It's too late for that, Narylfiel!" he yelled. "I'm already worried. I've been worried since Dale. I'm worried because I- love- you!"

From the doorway, Melui's mouth fell open. She watched as Narylfiel shakily pushed herself back up, blinking, her eyes wet.

"You never said..." Narylfiel whispered. "I knew that you did...but you never-"

Her words, soft and disbelieving, struck his heart and shamed him. Why had he not told her sooner how he felt in so many words? He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. "Of course I do. Narylfiel, how could I not?" He said softly, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

Melui cleared her throat. "The healers are here," she announced, not sure where she should look. "I'm just going to...I'll see you later."

Elfir came in through the door with Hûredhiel and Wilem following close behind her, looking around the room with wide eyes. The royal guard immediately went to his king's side.

"Your majesty, Captain Beriadan requests that you come to the Great Hall as soon as possible," Elfir said with a pained look to be asking this of his king at such a time. "It's an urgent matter that you will want to address."

Thranduil's eyes drifted to Narylfiel. "I am sure that Beriadan can handle the situation without my presence," he said dismissively.

Then Elfir leaned in closer and whispered something to the king that had Thranduil straightening immediately and in the next second hurrying toward the door.

"Melui, please stay with Narylfiel," the Elvenking said as he passed by. Then he paused at the threshold and met his beloved's eyes from across the room. "I will return as soon as this little issue resolves itself. Please rest, Narylfiel. And try to eat something."

Melui sauntered back toward Narylfiel's bed, and despite her friend being ill, she could not contain the self-satisfied smile spreading across her face.

Narylfiel glared at her. "Later," she warned her.

Hûredhiel sat down on the edge of the bed, and Wilem awkwardly stood behind her. "Tell me about what happened," she said, feeling Narylfiel's forehead.

So Narylfiel described the dizzy spell, and concluded that she had been feeling out-of-sorts, a little light-headed off and on since their return to Dale, but had passed it off as a side-effect of her medicine.

Hûredhiel frowned as she reached into a small satchel that she had brought with her. "The blood grass tonic can cause drowsiness, but not to the point that you keel over mid-conversation. I am adjusting your dosage, Narylfiel. Even though the wound has healed, you are far too pale for my liking, and your temperature..." she tsked, "it hasn't improved." She pulled out a good-sized packet of the dried-powdered blood grass. "Mix two spoonfuls of this into a cup of water before bedtime and in the morning after you eat breakfast."

With a grimace, Narylfiel accepted the packet and handed it to Melui, who took it over to her dressing table. She glanced at Wilem. "Have you made any improvements to your remedy?"

Wilem looked up from the slim journal in his hand, where he had been jotting down a few notes as he listened to Hûredhiel check over Narylfiel. He shook his head, his eyes pained. "No, my lady. You probably have already heard about the most recent death of one of the Forest Guards. The antidote did not save him."

"Rissien?" Narylfiel looked over to Hûredhiel for confirmation. "He was poisoned?"

The healer paused and leaned over to pick up her bag. Her mouth was grim when she turned to meet her young patient's eyes. "The king did not wish for you to know."

Narylfiel ignored the mention of Thranduil and smoothed the blanket across her lap. "And nothing could be done for him?"

Huredhiel snapped her satchel shut and gave Wilem a cool look before answering. "No, it was too late by the time they