Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters you recognise, but all OC's belong to me. I am not making any profit from this.

Timeline: This is the second instalment in a series revolving around Legolas and his family's history, set around II 770. It follows on from my first story, 'To Begin Again', and although there might be some minor references to previous events, you don't need to have read the other to understand this. There are also a few original characters in this story who were introduced in the first of the series, but the same thing goes for not having to read anything else in order to understand this one - unless you want to!

Warnings: None whatsoever for this story. I'm slowly but surely getting to the angst ridden stuff. Next story!

Notes: Not an awful lot to say here. I'm pretty much on schedule with my writing, and I've worked everything out so that I know what my deadlines are. This is a short story (3 chapters, it's already finished) and I will be posting every Friday until the end of the month, when I go on holiday for a while. I hope that people enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, although I understand it's slightly different. Please give it a chance, though! Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through my last story. It has recently been nominated in the MPA awards in the Best Thranduil category, so fingers crossed I guess. And now on with the second instalment of my series!

1

It was past midnight, and the forest of Greenwood the Great was alive. Under the wide, translucent face of Ithil and his lesser twinkling cousins, beneath thick boughs and luscious leaves of many verdurous hues there resounded the unmistakeable noises which announced an evening of merry making. Songs of joy, songs of sorrow, songs of mirth and many, many more were accompanied by the charming trills of a flute, the mournful thrum of a harp, the percussive rhythm of drums and bells; beautiful laughter burst forth from many lips as wine flowed and lovers danced and friends frolicked, joining with pleasant effortlessness into the ensemble as though it belonged there. High above, a giant predator of the forest, an eagle or a large owl, swept past the moon, its great wingspan casting a momentary shadow before it fell away to continue its hunt. The grand avian flight was noticed by few, and only one let his eyes follow the bird's journey over the trees and out of Elven sight. Even after it was long gone, he stared outwards from the marble balcony, gazing in silence at the night which hung so heavily for miles around.

Aside from the frivolity, all was silent. There stirred a soft breeze at intervals, hushed and barely perceptible; as it tugged at long tendrils of nightshade hair or the open robe worn loosely over dark leggings, like an insistent child, it found itself unwelcome. The Elf remained impassively heedless of the caressing touches upon him, uncaring of all around until, gentle upon the cool floor of the balcony came the silken tread of slippers which heralded a lady's approach. The flowery scent of rosewater drifted from her flawless skin, and as she wrapped her arms around the immortal's strong chest, she felt him draw it in with a soft sigh. Whether the noise was one of pleasure or otherwise, she could not guess, and pressed a kiss upon her husband's neck.

"I miss you," she breathed against him. "Long hours have passed since you left our bed."

"Sleep will not arrive," was the murmured response. "So I must occupy my mind."

"You came out here to think?"

"Nay. I came out here to wait."

PREVIOUSLY

Sunlight filtered through the chinks of curtain shielding the window and birds greeted the brightness of morning with high pitched twitters of nonsensical sweetness, but Oropher did not rise from the comfort of his bed. He had heard the wooden door creak open and was well aware of the bare feet padding across the floor, yet he kept his eyes unfocused. An extra weight, barely felt upon the feather-down mattress, crawled up the bed towards the pillows, too far away from silent to be called inaudible. Still he lay in apparent slumber, putting all of his willpower into practice as strands of silken hair tickled his cheek.

"Ada," the newcomer whispered. "Ada, are you truly sleeping or just pretending? It is late. Nana wants you in the kitchen for breakfast. Ada? Ada!"

Oropher felt the huff of frustration as a sharp breath upon his skin, and knew in an instant what was coming next. Before his impatient son could blow in his ear, he launched himself upwards, grabbing the back of the boy's shirt and pulling the small body close. Laughter came out muffled against his chest, and he shifted slightly to pull the blankets over himself and his captive. "Got you," he murmured. "You are trapped now."

"Good morning, Ada," Thranduil giggled. "Did you hear what I said? Nana is waiting to serve breakfast."

"I heard that, and she will not mind waiting two minutes more." Oropher smiled as his son cuddled happily against him, and his arm around the slender waist tightened lovingly. "Or do you think that a little time with my favourite Elfling is asking too much?"

"Your only Elfling," the subject of his endearment corrected. "No, I don't. But Ada, you must get up soon. Do you remember yesterday? What you said? You promised to make a tree swing for me, Veassen and Linwë."

"Firstly, it is Veassen, Linwë and I," Oropher said, gently poking his child's side. "And secondly, I recall no such vow."

Thranduil sat up swiftly, turning to anxiously search the impassive face of the dark haired immortal with wide eyes. "You must. We found the wood and the rope and the tree we want to use, and you said, in front of Nana as a witness, that you would make the swing. You cannot break a promise, Ada. Even if you have forgotten it."

"Worry not. My memory serves me well enough, and you shall have your swing this afternoon," Oropher swore.

"This afternoon?"

"Oh, I know. Many hours away." Flicking a loose strand of gold from his son's eyes, the Elf pushed back the blankets and rose gracefully, stretching like a lithe cat as he made his way into the adjoining washroom. "Besides, you know that I have unavoidable business this morning. I have been summoned for an audience with the Circle."

Left alone, Thranduil folded his legs beneath him with a shake of his head. "The Circle," he repeated in a mutter. "Why, Ada? I don't understand what the Circle is, what it does. What do they have to see you about that is so very important?"

"I suppose we shall discover soon enough," Oropher called from the next room. "And you do know what they are. Greenwood has no ruling family, so the Circle of Elders maintain it, ensuring there is enough housing, food and water supplies, materials, jobs and everything else that a community, however large or small, requires in order to function sufficiently. How many times must I explain this before you cease your questions?"

"Do you think they will make you the ruler?" Thranduil returned, absently examining the contents of a transparent bottle upon his mother's table. A spray of rosewater perfume landed on his wrist, and he rubbed at it in disgust. "Do you, Ada? That would be funny."

"Amusing indeed, and another adventure," Oropher remarked over the splashing of water. "Our last was quite enough. No more adventures. I am content with this peaceful life."

Nodding in silent agreement, the Elfling walked around the bed to stand before a four paned window that looked out onto the great green trees and the modest constructions of wood, similar in style to his own which formed a small community of immortals. Most were the companions he had travelled with from Lindon, but some Silvan Elves dwelt close by too. He liked them and their quaint forest ways, so different to anything else that he had experienced in his short life. Although he and his family had been in Greenwood for just three months, he knew without a doubt in his mind that returning to a built up city and making a home in a town house could never be his path.

"Yes, it was enough," he murmured. "But worth it too. I am happy here."

"What was that?"

Turning to see his father leave the washroom lacing the last ties of his tunic, Thranduil's blond head shook gently. "Nothing. I just said that... Your boots are by the window. Shall I brush your hair?"

"If you wish," Oropher allowed with a smile. Sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on the knee length shoes of deerskin, he took a moment to enjoy feather-soft fingers smoothing out the sheets of his ebony coloured tresses. "No complicated braids today, please. Yours always become knots and tangles."

"I try," the Elfling protested.

"Of course you do, starling. I would never think otherwise," the older immortal soothed tenderly. "Now, tell me of your plans for this morning. I suppose you will be partaking in the difficult act of playing with your friends, no?"

"No. I promised Nana I would pick her some berries so that she can make a cake, but Linwë and Veassen are helping so we probably will find a game to play as we work." Laying the hairbrush upon the mattress, Thranduil slid off the bed and stood before Oropher, holding the other's green eyes in a serious gaze. "I have finished, so now I must tell you something very important... I am going to beat you to the kitchen!"

Just a matter of seconds later, it was with a mildly disapproving smile that a golden haired Elf-woman watched through cornflower blue eyes the loud entrance of her small family, the youngest member tucked neatly under his father's arm, wriggling to no avail. Her husband deposited the laughing bundle into a chair at the dining table, before approaching her from behind and enveloping her in a warm embrace. She turned in his arms to greet him with a kiss made all the sweeter by her smile, and the pleasant aromas of her perfume left a subtle mark upon him. Unlike his son's reaction to the feminine scent, Oropher inhaled, savouring the feel of rosewater toying with his senses.

"I thought you would never leave our bed," Felith whispered. "Tea? I have mint or strawberry."

"Hmm, neither. I wish to be on time for this meeting with the Circle of Elders, and tea, however delightful it sounds, will delay me," Oropher sighed, pulling away from his beloved to pick at the warm bread on the table behind her. "I do not expect to be gone for a long while. More than likely they wish only to ensure we and our friends are still content here."

"If I can cook my own food, I am more than content," the lady smiled. "Now, kindly cease that. If you are going to break your fast, do so at the table. I will not have crumbs on my clean floor. Go on. Table."

At the quiet laugh from the other side of the modestly sized room, Oropher glanced over his shoulder. "What amuses you, penneth?"

"Nana told you off," Thranduil informed his father.

The dark haired Elf grinned, and kissed his wife's cheek before heading towards the table and the one who had found humour in Felith's admonition. "She did indeed, my little star," he concurred. "Enjoy yourself this morning. I shall be back in time for luncheon, and then we will get to work on your swing. Be good."

"As always, Ada," the child sighed. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Giving his wife a look which said exactly the same, Oropher left the wooden forest house to find his horse tethered outside, chewing patiently at the luscious grass. The animal welcomed him with a nudge to his shoulder, and he slipped his friend a large slice of apple stolen from the kitchen before mounting and beginning the ride to his destination. It was a fine day to be outside. The warmth of spring sunshine cast rays of yellow and gold over all it touched, and the Elves he passed, be they Sindarin or Silvan, greeted him with pleasantly genuine smiles. He returned every one, each upturning of his lips real and veritable.

The moment he found himself out of the settlement and far enough away from the rustically built houses and the people going about their morning business, Oropher urged his horse into a hard gallop along the forest path, lying low over the creature's strong neck and relishing the sensation of cool wind whipping through his hair. In spite of his intended destination, he felt no worries or qualms. The meeting would be over with swiftly enough, and those he was due to speak with were harmless, if not openly friendly.

As he had explained to his son a short a while back, Greenwood the Great was maintained by an elite group of some twelve Elves, venerated throughout the vastness for their age, wisdom and infallible ability to provide for the hundreds of woodland inhabitants. The region differed greatly to all others, Elven or otherwise, in that it had no built up towns, no statues, no inns; nothing which moved apart from its pure naturalness. The trees had lived there for far longer than the Elves, and that was respected by all. So it was that the Circle of Elders held sway over all the goings on in the forest, making decisions of great importance and ruling where a monarch did not.

A good many of their councils were held in a private glade forbidden to all outside the Circle – indeed, it was said that whether one lived in Greenwood for sixty years or six thousand, one would never happen upon it – but their primary meeting place was a majestic chamber set in the heart of the one stone construction to be found in the forest. Built upon the great hill of Amon Lanc, where no trees grew and eyes could see for miles around, was a spectacular mansion large enough to be called a small palace, with kitchens stocked high with supplies, armouries of bows, blades and spears, quiet libraries for scholars or studying children, advanced healing quarters and all other manner of rooms.

Spread out before the immaculately fronted building was a vast space of paved stone, and Oropher slowed his horse to a walk as the animal's hooves left the soft forest floor. He let his eyes travel around the courtyard, drinking in the simplistic beauty and elements of nature that still surrounded him. Two long swards of grass ran parallel to each other from one end of the piazza to the other, surrounded by well tended flower beds of roses, tulips and tens of other brightly coloured plants; set within the very centre of each length of greenness was a year-round cherry blossom, decorated with thousands of tiny pink buds. Dominating the perfect portrait was a fountain depicting the growth of a sapling, and a pair of pure white doves cooed together upon one of the marble branches.

Dismounting before a flight of large stone steps, Oropher let a young animal handler take his horse, and offered a smile in greeting. "Good morning. It is a fine day."

"Indeed it is," the Silvan Elf replied. "Shall I stable your mount?"

"No, thank you."

Accompanying the refusal with a polite shake of his head, Oropher climbed the stairs to the main doors of the palace, and followed another waiting immortal though long carpeted corridors he had walked in only once before, shortly after his arrival in Greenwood when the Circle had requested to meet the leader of the Sindarin travellers. He did not think it would be anywhere near as long a visit today, or at the very least, he hoped not; he wanted to take some private time with his wife before his afternoon with three excitable Elflings. The thought of them made him smile. He would do anything for his son, and liked the child's friends well enough that he was more than happy to give them their much awaited tree swing.

"Here we are." His guide stopped before grand double doors of panelled wood, and flashed a swift smile. "The Circle are waiting, so you may go straight in. Good luck."

"Why would you say that?" Oropher questioned, caught off guard.

"Say what?"

"Good luck."

"I said that?"

"Yes."

"You must have imagined it."

"No."

"Then my memory is failing me," the Elf concluded with another knowing smile. "Good day."

Left alone in a large hall beneath a white ceiling rose, Oropher watched him leave with a slight shake of his head, struggling to see if there was a jest somewhere in the words that he was failing to understand. As well as living differently, eating differently and wearing different clothing styles to the Sindar and Noldor he had dwelt with in Lindon, the Wood-elves of Greenwood had a quite different sense of humour to anything he and his friends had previously experienced. The strange lifestyle and mannerisms took some getting used to by the newcomers; although he had thought he was doing quite well at comprehending it, clearly he still had some way to go yet. Good luck... He shook his head again as he turned towards the doors and knocked upon one of the dark panels. Waiting to a count of three before pushing open the portal and stepping over the threshold, he banished the thought away. He needed no luck for this meeting.

The chamber was as wide as it was long, yet in spite of its immensely imposing size, adornments were simplistic and few and far between. Decorating the walls were painted murals of woodland scenes, images of trees, plant life, animals and pools, and between the illustrations stood quietly flaming glow lamps to light the large area. Benches of wood sat in lines, no doubt for audiences of more than a few, but the main focus of the room were the twelve elaborately carved chairs at the far end, set before mahogany depictions of the forest Vala, Oromë, and slightly behind a lectern upon a raised dais. The Elves sat in those chairs were the Elders, those immortals who made up the Circle, and they regarded Oropher in cool silence as he acknowledged their standing with a hand upon his heart and a bow of his head.

Only one rose to approach the lectern, a raven haired Elf with piercing green eyes like knives in a fair face devoid of any readable expression. Robes of black with a waist sash of grey to break up the block of colour trailed on the floor behind him, making gentle swishing sounds as he walked, the only noise within the chamber. At many thousands of years old, he was the very eldest of the twelve, and his vast import within the group showed in his stance and the quiet confidence of his movements. Considered to be something of a judge, his words carried great weight, no matter how few or many he uttered; the fact that he was the one making the address today spoke volumes, and Oropher found his mind drifting back to the Elf from before and the luck he had wished. He realised with a start that his mouth had run dry at the prospect of facing this widely respected individual who had the power to evict him and his family from the forest of Greenwood at any moment. Good luck...

"I thank you for your swift arrival here," the Elder intoned. "Have you any knowledge of the reason behind your summons?"

"Nay, I do not. I thought that I had an idea, but from studying the expressions worn by yourself and your colleagues, Elder Faelind, I see my perception was quite wrong," Oropher answered carefully. "I am eager to hear what you have to say, though."

Faelind nodded, regarding the younger Elf over the wooden rim of the lectern with appraising eyes. "Hmm. You have been in the forest for three months now. Despite being born in a faraway kingdom and living your life in a city of buildings and advanced civilisation, you and your people have integrated yourselves into our society with a keen willingness to learn our ways and move away from all that you have known. We did not expect that from you. As it is, we admire and respect your embracing of the diversity."

"I would not move to a new home and bring my old style of life with me," Oropher said. "I would not show such utter discourtesy."

"We have watched you since the very first day, and you have exceeded all of our expectations. You show strength, wisdom, resilience, foresight and an ability to lead through the greatest trials and tribulations. The people who followed you from Lindon have become your own, and they love you for all that you have done. So too do the Wood-elves; they see much within you, a potential to do deeds of greatness," Faelind continued. "Last evening, something of great importance occurred. The trees spoke."

"The trees... Forgive me, but I was under the impression that the trees speak at all times." The mind of the Sindarin Elf whirled as he fought to take in and understand what was being said to him. It was not an easy task. "Your words do not make sense to me."

"Yes, the trees do converse with us at all times, but we heard something very different this night gone. They spoke for you," Faelind explained slowly.

"For me?"

The raven headed Elder's lips turned upwards in a rare smile, and he nodded concurrence. "They have accepted you."

Oropher resisted the urge to undertake the confused gesture of pushing a hand through his hair, and took a moment to glance at the eleven individuals still sat silently in their chairs behind the lectern and their colleague. Though they did not speak, their eyes of green and brown were fixed unblinkingly upon him. The more open of the Circle wore small smiles, but even those he was powerless to translate into something understandable. "Elder Faelind, I am trying very hard to glimpse the meaning behind your words. Mayhap you can see that comprehension is slow, even invisible, in coming."

Amongst the line of Elves who had yet to speak there was movement, and a willowy lady garbed in sombre coloured robes of beige came forwards to stand upon the raised dais. She appeared scholarly in a radiant way, wearing her long brown hair coiled into a knot at the nape of her neck, held back by a grey barrette. Her dark eyes were like those of an avian, and the resemblance to a beautiful bird was heightened as she tilted her head to one side to aid her viewpoint of the waiting Elf before her. "As a mistress of lore, I deem it best that I continue this and give you a suitable explanation. What do you know of Greenwood's history?"

"Only that which I have read and been told of by those who know it best, Elder Angoliel," Oropher replied, aware that his voice held no less bewilderment. "Your question is broad. Of what aspects do you speak?"

"The forest is ancient and the greatest in Arda. For all of its years, it has been without a monarch or family to stand precedence over the trees and people, ruled instead by the Circle you see before you now. We are an age old tradition that has been upheld unfailingly for time without measure. Why? Because the trees have never spoken," Angoliel clarified in a hushed tone. "They have never chosen an Elf to sit upon a throne not yet built, but the time has now come for our construction workers to take up their tools and carve a chair of power greater than the ones I and my colleagues occupy. A chair for you."

"Surely you jest," Oropher said bluntly.

Although Faelind's eyebrows rose at the words, a soft smile graced Angoliel's fair features. "Nay. You have been chosen to rule Greenwood as her King."

The Sindarin Elf wished desperately that there was a seat behind him he could sink into, or at the very least, a wall to support him from the brunt of the revelation. Uncaring of the twelve regarding him with such intent, he raised one hand and raked his fingers through his hair, releasing a long exhalation of breath. So much for his ideas of a swift meeting and then a pleasant ride home to spend carefree time with his family. As he watched that vision disappear into oblivion, Oropher shook his head. He did not want this. He did not want to even be there. All he wanted was to turn around and walk away, forget that those words had been uttered. There had to be a way out, somewhere. There has to be. I can refuse. I can tell them to find another ruler, to inform their...trees that they have chosen the wrong one. This is madness. It is folly.

"Folly?" Faelind repeated quietly. "You believe so?"

Oropher blinked in surprise as he looked up into those piercing eyes. He was not aware he had spoken his last thoughts aloud. "With all the respect that is due to you, the other Elders, the people of Greenwood and the trees who have told you this... Yes, it is folly. You said yourself that I have been here for three months. That is no time at all. I am a stranger come from a foreign land. You have given me a home and everything that I need, but how can you know that I am worthy of kingship? Perhaps I am Sauron in a disguise, and my family and friends are minions of mine whose true faces are hidden by sorcery. And you would make me the ruler of this forest?"

"Were there anything but goodness within you, we would know," Angoliel assured him. "We understand you cannot speak with the trees yourself for further confirmation, but if you need to hear it, only ask Elder Lavaneth. She will tell you. Lavaneth?"

A green gowned lady stepped forth, and the affirming nod she gave made her waist length brown hair shimmer in the light from the glow lamps. A pendant in the shape of a leaping deer hung around her pale neck, and she raised an elegantly long finger to touch it. "Of us all, my affinity with nature is the greatest. I have spent the moonlight hours amongst the trees, listening to their songs and speaking long with them of this matter. It has been decided."

"Decided?" Oropher repeated incredulously. "Even before I came here?"

"Of course you have a say in the matter. We are not unreasonable," Faelind answered.

Shaking his head in disbelief, the dark haired Sinda regarded the Elders silently for a moment before pressing on with his argument. "If you are to have a ruler, is it not wise to choose one who has royal blood already in their veins? I was born into a noble family of Doriath, although it was not one of particularly high standing. I had a title before my name, yes, but I left that behind in Lindon. Now all I am is... I am just an Elf."

"A chosen Elf," Lavaneth corrected quietly.

"So you say. What of my family?" Oropher sighed. "I have a wife, a son..."

"Ah, yes. The trees did not neglect to tell me of them. Felith will become your Queen, a ruling lady of as much strength and wisdom as you possess yourself. She will capture the hearts of the people and hold them through all the years to come, with a beauty to rival the fairest flower. As for the child..." Lavaneth's brown eyes, flecked with jade green, flickered in something akin to fondness. "His youth and innocence shields his true potential, but the trees say that he will be a Crown Prince to make us all very proud. Should he ever succeed you and take the throne, he will lead the Elves of Greenwood without fail. That is, of course, if you choose to accept this position."

"We are going to send you away now. You will return to your home and make a decision, of which the trees will hear and inform us. Take your time," Angoliel told him gently. "We have thrown this at you, and we do understand that you have received a shock this morning. All I will ask of you is to keep always in your mind that this has never before happened. No Elf in the history of Greenwood the Great has been chosen by the people or trees to rule; that applies also to the Elders past and present. I hope that tells you something."

Oropher said nothing more. He gave the Circle a cursory bow before turning on his heel and leaving the audience chamber. He walked through the corridors of the palace without seeing anything he passed, unconscious of the Elves who smiled at him or offered a morning greeting. Descending the outside stairs and mounting his waiting horse was done automatically, the actions devoid of thought or concentration, and he did not realise he had ridden out of the courtyard until a trailing branch touched his shoulder. He started, and the realisation of all that had happened in so short a space of time came crashing down upon him like a hammer on an anvil. A despairing rush of breath left his lips, and the nudge he gave his horse's side was far more forceful than necessary. The animal jumped away into a canter that swiftly became a gallop, but his rider knew that no speed could take him away from the choice which hung so heavily over his head.

The ride to the palace had been pleasant, and Oropher found himself wishing he was back at that moment in time when the world made sense and troubles were a faraway thing, but it seemed only seconds before he was back in the settlement and gazing upon his wooden forest home. He stayed in the trees, watching smoke drift lazily from the chimney and disappear in spirals into the trees. Felith was clearly indulging in her favourite pastime of cooking. He wondered what culinary delights she was preparing. It was not an absent thought. He truly cared and wanted to know, because he was all too aware that whatever decision he gave the Elders, everything about his life would change. There would be no affectionate late mornings with his son, no breakfast made by his wife's fair hand, no tree swings to be made... He groaned softly, and cast a helpless look towards the sky.

There was nothing to be done. He could put it off for as long as he wanted, but the truth would have to come out sooner or later, and he knew full well that the longer he left the conversation with his wife, the worse the situation would become. Although, a part of his mind bitterly told him that the 'situation' was as worse as it could get and nothing at all could add weight to it. He dismounted and tethered his horse at a tree stump in front of the house, and drew in a deep breath as he pushed the door open. Sweet smells of cooking immediately assaulted his senses, and a sad smile pulled his lips upwards. He could hear humming from a room off of the kitchen, and he listened to Felith's beautiful voice with his eyes closed. Perhaps that would not change. Perhaps she would continue to sing, whatever happened.

"What are you doing, my love?"

Oropher blinked his eyes open, and watched his wife come out from the pantry with her arms full of foodstuffs. "I am not sure. Do you know there is flour on your cheek?"

"I was not aware. Thank you," Felith smiled. "I am glad you have returned, although I did think you would be here before now. You can help me if there is nothing else you have planned. I know, I know; making a cake with your wife is not the most masculine of tasks. Thranduil should be back soon with the berries, although I do not hold out much hope. He is sure to become distracted with his friends, but... Distracted as you seem to be now. Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, I was... Yes, I suppose distracted is the right word. What would you have me do?" A bowl of eggs, butter and flour was passed into his hands, and Oropher nodded as a spoon came with it. He regarded the mixture in silence for a moment before putting everything down on the table and turning sharply to face his wife. "I cannot do this...this...normalcy. Something has happened, and I know that you will like it even less than I do. The Circle of Elders... They have asked me to become somebody I am not, somebody I do not think I can be, somebody I do not even want to be."

"You are not making sense," Felith said quietly. "What are you trying to tell me?"

Oropher led her to a chair at the table, but rather than sit with her, he knelt on the floor and took her hands in his. "I cannot think how to tell you this. If I could escape with keeping it a secret I would do so, but I know that you have to... Meleth-nín, the Circle of Elders want me to rule Greenwood as her King. I did not understand what they were trying to say to me, but there it is. The trees have chosen me, is what they said. The trees... Can you believe it? The trees? I thought for a moment that they were jesting. I even asked them, although they were not greatly amused by it. Listen to me, I am talking and talking; it is nerves, worries. Tell me what is in your mind. You must have many things to say and ask."

"Actually, no," Felith murmured. "I am at a loss as to what I can say."

"You need a moment to take it all in. At least you are sitting down." Oropher smiled at his weak attempt at humour, and tightened the hold he had around his wife's hands. "I understand. It is not what you expected to hear."

Wide eyes turned towards the ceiling, searching it as though answers to alleviate her shock and bewilderment could be found there, but the immortal woman said nothing. Her face was blank and free from expression, although tumultuous emotions played out in her flickering pools of blue. Silence reigned throughout the small kitchen; not a silence broken at intervals by an outside noise or a random sound, but pure, real silence. That deathly quiescence was all that existed between the two Elves until the opening of a door burst into their reveries and shattered the peace into a hundred shards. Of them both, it was only the husband who reacted. Felith started slightly, but her gaze did not move away from its point of concentration, and she did not spare the newcomer a single word. She appeared to be stunned by the harsh blow dealt to her from a revelation she had never expected to hear.

Pausing at the entrance to the kitchen, Thranduil tilted his head to one side. "Ada, did you know that you are sitting on the floor? There are chairs." His declaration was met with nothing more than a quiet nod, and he shrugged his shoulders in acceptance of his father's seemingly strange behaviour. "I picked what you wanted, Nana. There are strawberries, raspberries, elderberries and some other berries that I don't know the name of. Linwë thinks they are poisonous, but we put them into the basket anyway in case they are safe. Where shall I put them? Nana? Nana, what do you want me to do with the berries? Nana!"

"Put them in the pantry," Oropher said quickly. As the child disappeared, he rose from his place at Felith's knee and touched her cheek, gently forcing her gaze to meet his. "What would you have me do, meleth? Tell him? Keep it until we speak together?"

"I would have been back sooner, but we did manage to find a game to play as we worked," Thranduil explained as he put the basket of berries into storage, speaking before his mother had a chance. "We had a war, whereby the fruit we could not use were weapons, and the one who ended up covered in the most juice was the defeated warrior. I think Veassen lost, because Linwë is the strongest and I am the fastest, so he didn't really have much of an advantage. Although, I still got quite dirty. I hope you don't mind, Nana. Veassen's mother said the stains will come out. Oh, that reminds me. It is her Begetting Day next week, and Veassen wants to make her a cake or pie as a surprise, but he doesn't know how. I said you would teach him because you like cooking, but if you would rather not, it doesn't matter. We can follow a recipe from one of your books and make something edible. Oh, and that reminds me too... Linwë said that we could eat the berries before they were washed, but I didn't think so because some of them were unclean. Me and Veassen – sorry, Veassen and I – didn't put them anywhere near our mouths because we didn't want to be poisoned, but Linwë did, so if anything happens to him, we did try and stop... Are either of you listening to me?"

Turning his eyes away from Felith's blank face, Oropher shook his dark head slowly. "It was not your fault, but you have disturbed us at a rather inopportune moment. Perhaps you could go back to your friends and play with them a while longer."

"I will, if you do not want me here," Thranduil murmured, only just masking the hurt in his voice. "I must change my tunic first, though. This has berry stains on it."

"You are the same size as Veassen. I am sure he will have something you can borrow," Felith intoned. "Leave us, please."

"Nana, I am going to. But I don't want to wear another Elf's clothes. I want mine," the child argued. He turned his eyes upon his father, seeking support from that corner. "Ada... It will only take me a minute to change. I will even climb out of my window rather than leave through the door if you are so desperate not to see me."

Oropher could not help but wince at that. Holding out one hand, he beckoned his son towards him. "Come here, penneth. It is not that we have no wish to see you. As I said, your entrance was poorly timed. Your mother and I were about to sit down and have a discussion of great importance, and it is not one that can be avoided. You will understand soon enough. I only ask that you help us have that conversation by giving us an hour alone."

"I already said to Nana I will leave," Thranduil replied quietly. "But before I do, will you tell me what you are to speak of? Is something wrong? Is it me? Did your meeting with the Circle of Elders not go as you expected? That's it, isn't it? The Elders... Before you left for the palace, both of you were cheerful and smiling. Now you have come back, and everything is different. Ada, what happened? What did they say?"

"Ai, you are perceptive indeed," Oropher murmured. "Yes, my talk with the Circle has caused this. It is nothing for you to worry yourself over."

"But I do worry," Thranduil whispered. "And if you cannot tell me, I will continue to do so. Please..."

Lifting her head from where she had it resting in her hands, Felith gazed into the child's face, paled with the fear he had spoken of. "Your father has been chosen to sit upon the throne of Greenwood the Great and become the King of the forest. He has been selected not just by the people, but by the trees. The impression I have is that their voice counts for much more than that of any Elf, and they – the trees – want us as the ruling family. I hope you see now why it was so important that we speak."

"Greenwood has no monarchy," Thranduil carefully corrected his mother. "Ada told me that this morning."

"I did," Oropher concurred. "However, things have changed since then. Your mother told you the truth; we are the only Elves in the history of the forest to be selected as its rulers. The trees 'accepted' us, so the Elders named it. They see within us as a family something different, something that they feel can shape this realm and protect it as only a monarchy can do. I fail to understand why we have been chosen, but it has happened. We can refuse these positions of power. We have been given that choice, and it is one that we will have to make sooner or later. I could decide on my own, were I an Elf who did not respect the thoughts of his loved ones. But I do. I want to know what you think, both of you, and then we can reach a decision together. So please, tell me your thoughts."

"If you become the King and Nana becomes the Queen, that would make me the Prince. Yes?" Thranduil confirmed quietly. "Could I still be friends with Linwë and Veassen?"

"Of course," Oropher soothed.

"Could I still have a tree swing?"

The dark haired Elf gave a soft laugh, although it carried very little humour. "You could have a whole tree, ion-nín."

"The swing would be enough," Thranduil murmured.

Felith exhaled, but only the rise and fall of her shoulders announced that she had released the weary breath. "The decision is not ours to make, Oropher. You can listen to our thoughts and what we have to say on the matter, but I think you know it does not make a blind bit of difference. You said that we as a family were chosen, but how is that true? You were chosen. Not me, not our son: you. We are only included because of our blood ties to you. So, whether I want to wear a crown or am content in this little house... It does not matter. The final choice must lie with you. Already you have changed our lives for the better by taking us from Lindon. That was a decision made by you, and I will never regret supporting it. You did not fail us then, so whatever you choose to do now, I will know is the right path of life we must follow. I shall stand by you as your wife, your best friend, your soul mate and your Queen, if it comes to that. You have my word."

"As will I," Thranduil promised, his voice hushed. "I will trust you to do the right thing, Ada."

"Valar, a heavy burden is laid upon my shoulders," Oropher whispered. As the small arms of his son wrapped themselves around his waist in a tight embrace, he closed his eyes to hide the tears conceived by the words spoken to him. The sweet scent of rosewater mixed with cooking smells drifted into his awareness, and he drew strength from the feel of his beloved forsaking her own emotions to hold him close. He knew there was a decision to be made, and where before it had appeared an impossible task, the presence of the two Elves he loved the most gave him faith that he could reach it on an easier road. "Thank you, both of you. Felith, I am going to spend the rest of the morning with you. We will make your cake and anything else that you want to, regardless of how demeaning it is to my status as a male and a warrior. Thranduil, you shall have your tree swing this afternoon. When it is finished, I will push you and your friends as high as you want to go until you tire of it. There will be no talk of kingship or ruling or anything of the sort. No talk at all. Leave it until tomorrow morning, when the night hours have given me a chance to reach my decision."

"What of the Elders?" Felith reminded him gently. "Will they not want to know this?"

A tree outside the window waved its branches without the aid of a breeze, and Oropher flashed his teeth in a swift smile. "They will know. We have an eavesdropper."

"Who?" Pulling away from the embrace, Thranduil's golden head shook at the strangeness of adults, and he turned his attention upon the bowl of mixture sitting on the table. "May I help you with the cake? If I don't do something to keep my mind away from what has happened, I will think of it, and you said there must be no talk of kingship, Ada."

"Your aid would be very much appreciated," Felith said warmly. "Go and wash your hands before anything else." Watching her son run outside to obey the instruction, she slipped an arm around Oropher's waist, and the smile upon her face faded as she rested her head against his strong shoulder. "This normality and the mundane tasks of routine life will not be ours. There will be no making of cakes, no carefree times with our only child. I think that if this day is to be our last as any other Elven family, we must make the most of it and never forget it. We must store it in our minds like a painting upon the wall, to be looked at whenever we wish."

"I told myself this on the way back from the palace," Oropher agreed in a murmur. "You speak the truth."

"Everything is going to change," Felith whispered.

In reply to the words that he knew were not a question, the dark haired Elf gently kissed the top of his wife's head. "Yes. It is."

THE PRESENT

As flames flickered throughout the forest as signals of celebratory feasts, the avian predator cast his shadow over the moon once more with a sweeping dive through the sky. Following the green gaze of her beloved, Felith watched the wheeling dance too, although her eyes did not truly see. "Tomorrow is an important day, for you especially. I cannot imagine that standing out here for hours on end is wise. You must rest, even if you do not feel that sleep will come. At least try."

"The Elders named me wise when they gave me the choice of kingship or a normal life," Oropher replied bitterly. "Clearly they were wrong, if I choose wakefulness over slumber when such a great event awaits me in the morning."

"Do not snap," Felith chided, her voice soft. "And cease that sarcasm. It helps nothing."

Pulling his eyes away from the circling bird, the dark haired Elf turned to face his wife. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, and he released a deep sigh as he pushed the stray strands behind her pointed ears. "I am sorry, meleth-nín. You were thinking only of my wellbeing, and I was wrong to throw your thoughtfulness back at you. I tried to sleep. I have been willing it to come for hours, but all I could do is lie in the darkness and stare at the ceiling. I found no comfort, no rest, no pleasure from the warmth of the bed or the lady I love in my arms. I had to escape. Tomorrow will come whether I want it to or not, and waiting for it out here seemed preferable to the stifling mood inside."

"Your mind has not swayed?"

"It has swayed every hour since I agreed to claim the throne of Greenwood. I have doubts even now, with the coronation just hours away," Oropher admitted quietly. "I wish so desperately to speak with the trees and ask them why, for the love of the Valar, did they choose me? What did they see inside my soul that I do not see myself? I know that wish is in vain. I may become the ruler of them, but I am not a Wood-elf."

"There is yet time," Felith reminded her husband. "The Circle of Elders have given you until the moment the crown touches your head to say that you made the wrong decision. You can do that. You can do it without shame, and we can leave the palace and this new life of luxuries. Our old house still stands in the settlement. Perhaps it is awaiting our return."

"You forget this has not happened before," Oropher sighed. "A monarchy. It may never happen, if I walk away. I cannot do that to the people of Greenwood. They may have lived their lives without a ruler, but they set such store by the words of the trees that failing to fulfil this prophecy would devastate them. And just imagine what would happen if I refused the crown at this stage. We could go back to the way things were, but it would not be the same. You know that well."

At those reluctant words, there was no choice for the Elven woman but to nod her golden head in agreement. "I do. I know too that tomorrow will be difficult, but you will walk through it with your head held high. I will be there at your side for every moment. And do not forget our little Prince."

"How is he?" Oropher asked quietly.

"Terrified." Felith gave a gentle smile as she returned her arms to their place around her husband's neck. His easily encircled her waist, and she leaned into the embrace to place a kiss upon his smooth cheek. "Thranduil will be just fine, as will you. I promise."

Songs and laughter resounded like beautiful bells throughout the night air, and the soon to be crowned King and Queen of Greenwood the Great stood together on the balcony outside their new suite of apartments for time uncountable to either of them. Beyond the palace that would become their official residence within a matter of hours, their people rejoiced the coming of a royal family to the realm, and the trees waved their branches in accompaniment to woodland melodies, although the feasting and merry making did not come close to that which would take place the night after the impending coronation. Oropher and his wife listened to the sounds which heralded emotions of pure pleasure and joy, and they had to smile at the great abundance of happiness surrounding them in spite of their doubtfully exchanged words and the daunting event which lay so close at hand. They smiled, but high overhead, an eagle screamed.

To be continued...