"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal."

Lord Byron

Thranduil walked along the Celduin in places where his forest was still green. He had escaped his halls for the day to find companionship with his woods, discovering understanding in the trees that plunged their roots thirstily into the river. He walked barefoot upon the cool earth, trailing fingers across the trunks of old trees, companions to him across the ages, drawing comfort from their vitality. The Celduin offered life to a forest which fell steadily into decline and he would trust it to preserve the greenness of its banks for many years yet. He made sure to guard it jealously, a precious stream of silver in a plundered land.

He became aware of her presence from afar, a gentle splashing of the water and soft humming coming to his keen ears. He approached silently, interested to see her in her own work. Through the foliage he espied Katya, her raft halted and her heavy cotton skirts cast aside, she was floating in the river, swimming in its cool water on the hot day. Even from this distance he could see she had once again changed. Her form was womanly now rather than girlish, and while she was still fit she had gained form to her body which spoke of the prime of womanhood. Thranduil thought back, trying to recall how long it had been since he'd last laid eyes on her. Nearly five years.

"Bercalion?" She asked suddenly, peering into the trees, pulling herself onto a rock near the opposite bank of the river. She perched there like a water nymph, clothed only in thick linen undergarments which clung revealingly to her body, her eyes were playful and unburdened; Hair grown much longer than he remembered, falling in ringlets past her shoulders to caress the swell of her breasts.

Katya's breath caught in her throat as he emerged from the shadows of the trees, silver hair shining in the sunlight. It had been many years since she had seen him and Katya smiled at her king happily. He was unchanged and yet, in such a setting so much different than how she had known him. His regality was unmistakable, but today he wore simple clothes meant for the woods, his bare feet sinking into the mud of the bank.

"Hail, Lord Thranduil," she called to him, standing on her rock to curtsy in her wet breeches and clinging blouse.

"Hail, water child." He responded softly and her eyes crinkled in amusement at such a greeting.

"May I offer you refreshment my lord?" He inclined his head in acceptance of her offer, and she dove back into the water, swimming to him and the raft. "I'm afraid it is simple fair."

That was how Thranduil found himself reclining on the raft with her, Katya's hair dripping soft melodious drops onto the wood as they ate a peasant's meal and sipped wine out of the same skin. Thranduil let his feet trail in the cool water, washing away the earth which had clung to them over his long walk. They found silence together for a time and observed each other with unabashed interest. Even her mannerisms had changed, she looked at him without girlish blushing but with confident curiosity. There was knowledge in her eyes now, around which some lines had begun, her movements were more sure and practiced. Unapologetic.

"In the eyes of my people you are younger than our children, yet you seem more matured," he observed, recalling her ire when he used to call her by that title. There was only amusement in her eyes now.

"I do not have the same leisure to achieve maturity that your people do my lord. If I had, I would not have given up childhood so soon." She smiled gently at him, twisting a strand of her wet hair around her finger absentmindedly. Her face was browned and freckled by years in the sun, but the color suited her. As her hand fell to her side Thranduil caught it in his, running fingers across her palm, feeling its roughness like armor.

"The river beats against the soft earth to carve a path. Yet the softness it found in you has hardened rather than give way." She laughed softly at his words and Thranduil looked at her somewhat reproachfully but she did not apologize. He found that he enjoyed the soft breathiness of her laugh and it wore against his cold exterior like the river, slowly washing it away.

"I have striven against this river all my life, I would be worn to nothing if I did not harden from its touch." She trailed her fingers in the water for a moment, letting a few droplets fall upon his open palm, taking her own time now to run her fingers across his hand. His hands were strong and neither hard nor soft, but in them the constancy of ages rested.

"And though the current of centuries beats against you my lord, you neither give way nor react to them. How the years must hate your aloofness to the howling call of time." Though she said this with mirth it made the smirk fall from his face and her eyes instantly became discerning and concerned.

"Time has eroded more than you know," he said, icy eyes piercing her own grey ones and he watched the shock appear in her face as he allowed the elf magic to fade from his face, revealing the mutilated flesh of his dealings with the dragons of the north. Her fingers tightened on his palm and her eyes flashed in pain and regret at her words, but she did not recoil from him as he had expected.

Instead she reached out a tentative hand her fingers hovering inches from his skin. Thranduil watched her impassively, her brow creased with pain but her eyes full of wonder. His own eyes flickered for a moment when her cold fingers met his scarred cheek, pressing there for a time, her thumb tracing across his skin. The elf magic returned and beneath her fingers she felt the flesh of a whole face, the scars hidden from the world once again. At this she lost her boldness and her hand dropped back to the raft.

"Is that where you attained your loss my lord?" Her voice was barely a whisper and his eyes flashed in momentary anger at her words, pain coursing through his body at the memory of dragon fire and the screams of his wife as she died to save their son. Katya's eyes remained on the raft, her own grief reflected in them and her sadness abated his wrath. She found his hand beneath her chin again, and though he did not speak as she gazed into his eyes she found her answer. His hand trailed down her neck to rest on her damp shoulder and Katya had no warning other than a brief smirk appearing on his face as he shoved her off the raft into the river.

Thranduil laughed as the raft rocked beneath him and reclined contentedly waiting for her to resurface. It was only after nearly a minute passed that he began to worry, had she hit her head on some hidden rock? His chest clenched as he moved to the edge of the raft, peering into the hazy river. Her arms shot out of the water and locked around his shoulders in a vice grip and Thranduil found himself dragged into the river with a great splash, resurfacing with an undignified splutter, looking like a bathed cat. His eyes flashed dangerously at Katya's mirthful laughing which only increased at his ire as she treaded water some feet from him.

Thranduil made a swipe for her, but she kicked easily out of his reach with a renewed bought of laughter bubbling up in her throat. The king of the woodland realm found himself chasing after this wine merchant in the depths of his own river and he did it smiling. It was when she swam too close to the shallows that he captured her, being taller his feet found purchase first and he kicked off hard. Strong fingers caught her ankle and he yanked her to him, an arm capturing her waist and he dunked her again which did nothing to stop her giggling, and he found a smile crossing his own face as he held her there, holding her up in the depths where she still could not touch. Their eyes locked and he could see the adoration in them as he smoothed her hair away from her face. Her desire brought pain to his own heart. Thranduil looked away from her, his brow creasing in frustration, not knowing how to approach this situation.

"I seek nothing from you my lord, yet you have given me so much." Katya spoke before he could, as if reading his own thoughts of hesitation. Thranduil looked at her impassively his chest clenching, knowing that she loved him and had loved him, never expecting even as much as this. He brushed water droplets from her forehead, kissing her soft brow as she closed her eyes at his touch. He let her bury her head against his chest for a moment, her arms wrapped around his neck while he held her own body tightly against his.

For a moment he allowed himself the luxury of holding her firm body against his own, her skin against his branding him like fire. Yet over the ages his grief had not cooled from the loss of his wife, and this woman would fade quicker than she had. He would not bring himself that pain again. Katya was the one who broke the embrace and smiled at him, kicking up in the water she kissed his cheek, his scarred cheek. The contact was as fast as a rain drop striking the earth and then it was gone, only the dampness of her lips lingered there as she swam back to her raft and pulled herself out of the water, her strong body accentuated by the soaked clothes, river water pouring off of her.

"I must leave you my king, if you are to have your shipment of wine at all today, and I shall lodge in your halls until the night has passed for I shall arrive with the twilight." Thranduil swam to her and she helped him onto the raft, their hands lingering on one another's for a moment.

"Safe travels my lady, may my halls ever be a joy to you." Their hands slid away from one another's as he stepped onto the bank. He did not look back as he disappeared into the woods.