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THANK YOU!!! to Everybody who reviewed, commented, or favorited the last chapter of KingsfoillilyhbLotr_elves_tolkienfeatherfrenzy,   NettleGoblinshimmer,   Elf_and_an_agentMissSnow26 ,   365daysoffeelsprincesswithashotgun,   rose5607larrytishippotolkienfan00CJ_Callahan90_Dreamyn_GG-Dreamer ,   Tammyt70, debisrumdreamer0Livvie99rottingbells3189 The_Midnight_Fangirl  ,  bre2333  , wannabeyournasty, xxmegzqiixx   , civ246094  ,  casburger, Havecouragebkind , niepoprawneslowa , unkaufkat, natalia_vegas , e_Silmarwen_elf , earwen_eledhwen ,shadowspinner ,OliviaSmith115, Wild_flower15 .

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Four hundred years ago...

Thranduil leaned on his heavy ornamental staff as he surveyed the wide sweep of grass under the trees. In truth, he usually enjoyed these sorts of days, seeing all of his people turned out in their finest, making merry. It was the annual celebration for the Feast of Flowers, the coming of spring to the Greenwood, but Thranduil's attention was drawn to the latest additions to his family, his son's new bride and her sister. Legolas and Thaliniel had been married for less than a month, and the Elvenking had been very careful to make sure the sisters' transition to the palace and royal life had been a pleasant one and that all of his courtiers had strived to make them feel welcome. He was protective of his own.

His eyes were drawn to Thaliniel, pink-cheeked and laughing as Legolas drew her under the trees with the other dancing couples. He had never seen his son act so carefree, so...happy. Thranduil did not fool himself that it could always be this way; he watched the south with a particularly careful eye. One day the darkness would return and cast its shadows onto his borders. He would need Legolas then, would depend on him to hold their kingdom together, but for now, he was glad to see his people untroubled, their hearts light. They had suffered so much already.

Thranduil's bright blue eyes scanned the crowd for the smallest addition to his family. Narylfiel. She was a handful, but Thranduil could not help but enjoy her. He straightened up. He did not see that dark little head of hair of hers anywhere. He glanced at the most likely option, the food tables. Not there. She loved dancing and music. He looked toward the merry lines of couples swaying together. Not there, either. She knew better than to wander into the woods alone, he told himself. He leaned his staff against his chair, and stepped down from the dais.

Galion, his butler, was at his side immediately. "Your Majesty, may I bring you something?"

Thranduil shook his head. "No, Galion. Do you see Narylfiel?"

The elf craned his head and after some careful looking, replied: "No, my lord. I will find her at once and bring her to you."

"That will not be necessary, Galion," the king told him. "I only wish to make sure that she is enjoying herself tonight."

"I will see that she is," Galion assured him, and the well-meaning butler left at once to find her.

Unfortunately, Galion could not find the young lady so easily. Now, the butler already knew of her fondness for games, including hide-and-seek. He wondered if she had spotted him looking for her in the crowd and decided to play!

Galion noticed three young ellyth, about Narylfiel's age, on the other side of hollow. Perhaps, they would know her whereabouts. When he reached them, they stared up at him, with their mouths slightly open. The butler enjoyed their reaction, truth be told: he was, after all, wearing his finest embroidered tunic and vest, the one with the gold thread worked into the crest of the House of Oropher.

"Good evening, young ladies," he greeted them in a kindly voice.

"Good evening, sir," they chorused back.

Galion knelt down, so he would be eye-level with them. "I am looking for another young lady, about your age," he said. "She is the new princess's sister, Narylfiel. Have you seen her?"

The young ladies exchanged glances. "I am sorry, sir, but we have not seen her tonight," the one in the middle of the trio said.

"But you know who she is," pressed Galion. "Have you been introduced?"

The one on the end nodded. "But maybe she did not come to the party tonight, sir."

Galion stood and dusted off the knee of his pants. "No, she is here, somewhere. Thank you for your time, ladies." He walked a few steps toward where the wine casks were set up when he heard the higher-pitched voices of the three young girls.

"She's probably down at the stables, crying into the hay again," said one of the voices.

"Now, Reviel, that's unkind. I feel a little sorry for her."

"Sorry for her?" piped the third voice. "She moved in with the royal family, Nessima!"

"Still, I think it would be hard..."

Galion pivoted on his heel and returned to stand before the young girls. "I could not help but overhear what you just said," he told them, smiling gently. He pointed up toward the dais, where King Thranduil still looked out into the crowds from a beautifully carved wooden chair. "Our king wishes for everyone to have a good time tonight at the feast, including you and including Lady Narylfiel." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Have you ever met King Thranduil?"

The three young ladies shook their heads 'no.' The one in the middle, Reviel, whispered back: "I heard my ada say to my naneth that the King is scary when he gets angry."

Galion smothered a grin. She had no idea. Instead, he fixed them all with a very serious look and told them: "I am the King's butler. It is my duty to see that he has all he needs. Do you know what he asked for tonight?"

"No, sir," the three ellyth answered.

"He expressly wished that Lady Narylfiel have a very good time at the feast tonight. Now, I cannot even find her, and I do not wish to disappoint His Majesty."

The third little elleth, Nessima, spoke up. "We could help you, sir. I don't want her to be lonely." She frowned at the middle elleth. "And don't elbow me, Reviel!"

"Yes, Reviel, don't elbow her," Galion echoed and then leaned toward her and whispered. "The king is watching."

Reviel gulped, her eyes darting toward the dais.

Galion straightened and smoothed down his tunic. "Thank you for your help in these matters, ladies. I deeply appreciate your assistance."

Nessima stepped forward, tugged on his tunic. "Sir? I see Narylfiel."

Galion's face broke into a wide grin. "You do? Where?"

Nessima pointed toward the dais and the king. "There, sir." And much to Galion's dismay, he spotted Lady Narylfiel leaning on the arm of the king's chair. She seemed to be deep in conversation with Thranduil.

Galion pursed his lips and nodded briefly to the young ladies with a clipped thank you and returned to his king.

Thranduil caught sight of him and waved him up to the dais. "Look who I found," he said with a smirk.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Galion said and then addressed Narylfiel. "Are you having a good time at the feast tonight, my lady?"

"Well..." Narylfiel looked down and pretended to straighten out the ruffles on her swishy spring green dress.

Just then Galion noticed something that had his eyes shining. He pointed down the steps of the dais. "It seems as though you have some friends who would like for you to join them, Narylfiel." Nessima, the kind little elleth that Galion had spoken with earlier, waved shyly to Narylfiel. She had two other different elflings with her, although the one named Reviel was conspicuously absent.

Narylfiel's eyes lit up. She looked expectantly to Thranduil, and he waved her off with an indulgent smile. She bounded down the steps two at a time without looking back.

"Did you see that, King Thranduil?" Galion whispered and then tapped himself on the chest proudly. "I did that."

King Thranduil watched her go, his lips curving up as the other little elfling girl hooked her arm through Narylfiel's. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Galion who had puffed up his chest with sudden pride. The king chuckled and then picked up his glass.

"Galion, more wine please," he said, "and this time, bring back a glass for yourself. After all, this is Mereth Lotesse. Let us toast to new beginnings."

. . . . . . . .

November, 3018

Hûredhiel was not in her office, when Thranduil swung open the door and entered the smallish, cluttered room. Thranduil could remember when Hûredhiel had requested the shelves to be built, and now they were crammed full of numerous records, bottles, and various bits of nature brought indoors.

A creamy white seashell drew Thranduil's eye. It perched on the lower shelf amid the other objects-pinecones, a pretty polished stone, a framed rubbing of a birch leaf. Thranduil's hand hovered over the shell. He briefly thought of the sea, a wide expanse of water as far as the eye could see and ships with white sails, drawn in the wind.

"Thranduil!" A voice exclaimed from the door. "What brings you here?"

The Elvenking snatched his hand back from the shell, glanced at the door.

"You say that as though I never visit you," he said with a wry smile, at the dark-haired healer, a tall elleth with kindly features. Long had she lived and practiced healing in his realm; Hûredhiel had come out of Doriath among many other refugees, following his father to Amon Lanc and then finally settling in the protection of his Halls as the forest grew more dangerous.

"I stand corrected," she said in mock seriousness. "You did visit-ten years ago." Smiling, she drew the door shut and welcomed her king to join her in sitting in the pair of chairs at a table in the back of the room, where Thranduil knew she liked to consult with the occasional patient or mother-to-be.

"What brings you here?" she asked.

"You forget that I know how you like to play these games," Thranduil countered, straightening the wide cuff on his sleeve. "You know why I am here. You would have already heard the news."

"Even so," she admitted. "I always like to give my patients a chance to speak for themselves."

"I am not one of your patients," he corrected her. "But something happened, and I would ask your advice."

"Something happened..." she repeated. "To you?"

"Sort of," he hedged. "Narylfiel was poisoned by an orc blade."

"I did hear of that," she said worriedly. "I was a little surprised that you have not marched her down here yet. You healed her?"

"I used a healing bond to draw out the poison, but it was difficult." Thranduil's mouth drew into a straight line at the memory. He still felt guilty that Narylfiel suffered from his error in judgment, his inability to finish the job.

She leaned forward, listened. "What was difficult?"

"This was a new type of poison; I had never seen its equal. Supposedly this poison can make elves mortal," Thranduil explained.

"How do you know of this?" she asked disbelievingly.

Thranduil let out an exasperated sigh. "I know you would have already met your new tenant, Wilem. His father made the poison."

"Yes, and he wants to find the antidote. You have reason to believe that Narylfiel was injured by this poison?" She stood and walking over to her shelves, drew several books off the top shelf. She brought them back to the table and plopped them down in front of her king. Thranduil recognized a few of them. Hûredhiel opened the top and flipped through the pages to a section on dangerous poisons and how to counteract them.

The Elvenking tiredly brushed his hair back over his shoulders and peered at the page. "None of these poisons are equal to the one inflicted upon Narylfiel. I've never seen poison so strong, so resistant, and you know that I have seen enough poisonings through the years to know."

"And the healing bond was not enough?" Hûredhiel's voice was skeptical-not because she did not believe her king, but only because she knew of his past successes in these matters.

Now Thranduil flushed a little. "Something happened, and I was not able to finish drawing the poison out."

She sat back in her chair, surprise flitting across her face. Thranduil was usually the one they called for when the most severe cases came in. "Well," she said and paused. "It can be extremely difficult to sustain a connection, especially if there are distractions." She looked appraisingly at him. "Were there?"

"Distractions?" Thranduil traced the wood grain on the table with his finger. "Yes." He paused, swallowed. "I pushed too hard." He heard her sharp intake of breath and made himself look into her worried eyes. "I saw a memory or a dream of hers...and then I lost the connection."

"Oh." Sudden understanding colored her voice. "She has always cared for you, admired you," hedged Hûredhiel.

Thranduil found himself staring at the leaf engraving. "I ended up taking her to Erebor, for the dwarves had a supply of blood grass. And the more time passed, the less I found myself wanting to end the bond," he said quietly.

"Oh, your Grace," she said, unable to keep the dismay from her voice.

Hûredhiel reached across the table, placed her hand over both of his folded ones. She had known him for many years, before he was king, before he had the cares and worries he had now.

"She cares for you." She soothingly patted the top of his hand. "And you care for her?" It came out as more of an observation than a question.

Thranduil nodded and then forced himself to say the words. "I am very fond-no," he corrected himself. "I care a great deal for her. I am going to marry her, Hûredhiel."

"You did not end the healing bond?" she asked a little incredulously.

"No, I made myself end it after I drew out the last of the poison, or thought I did." Thranduil absently rubbed his chest. "But I there are times that I still feel it, like an ache."

Hûredhiel stood again, returned to the shelves where she selected a single slim book. She sat down with it, but rather than open to any specific pages, just clutched it in her lap. "You know how dangerous those kinds of bonds can be," she chided him, but her words only sounded worried. She opened the book, turned to a page toward the middle and then shut it again. Hûredhiel was the only other person in the palace that knew of how the king had severed his bond with his first wife. He had come to her then, grieving, seeking answers, and he had come again to her now. She would give him reason to hope, if she could.

"But then again, your healer's bond with Narylfiel may have saved her life," she opened the book back up, thumbed through the pages again, until she stopped and pointed toward a certain passage about the connection between feä and hroä.

"The elven feä sustains the life of the Eldar," she read, following the words along with her finger. "It feeds and nourishes the hroä, giving elves strength and endurance beyond mortal creatures."

Thranduil leaned over and peered at the beautifully penned illustration of an elven body, the hroä, criss-crossed, bound by an intricate network of glowing lines, representing the feä. He remembered the feeling of Narylfiel's song and the warmth of his bond with her.

"But she may be dying," Thranduil countered. "Wilem said as much." He turned the page over and scanned the contents, where the author listed all the different kinds of elven bonds: healing bonds, parent bonds, liege bonds, love bonds, marriage bonds.

"What if I made another bond with her?" he asked quietly staring at the page. "Do you think it would help?"

She smiled and gently closed the book. "Bond magic is one of the Valar's most blessed gifts. But you know better than I, that nothing is certain, Thranduil. Not even the wisest among us can see all ends."

The Elvenking looked up sharply. "I am meeting with the Elder Council tomorrow morning."

She stood and gathered up the books to return them to the shelf. "Are you?" she asked with a soft tilt to her head as she studied him.

Thranduil pushed his chair back and rose from the table. His eyes flitted to the book on bond magic that Hûredhiel had left in front of him and he picked it up. "I plan on announcing my betrothal to Narylfiel," he said as he headed toward the door. "Will you be there?"

"My king, you know that I have declined my seat on the council for many years now." She set the remainder of the books on the ledge of the shelf and crossed the room. She hesitated and then touched his cheek. She could still remember when he hid behind his mother's skirts, and she could still remember the horrible days when his father's warriors had brought him to her rooms, burnt, scarred, dying. He had been strong then; he was even stronger now. "You have never sought, nor required their good opinion or their permission in anything." Hûredhiel shook her head. "Why now, Thranduil?"

"You are right, of course," he said, glancing down at the book in his hands. "But seeking their approval is not for me. This is for Narylfiel."

She smiled then. "I find myself almost tempted to attend," she

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