* QUEEN

                       SHE WALKS ON MOONLIGHT

                            INDEPENDENT / SELECTIVE / ORIGINAL CHAR.                                      ELVENQUEEN OF HOBBIT & LOTR

   HER SOFT LAUGHTER FILLED THE SILENCE of the late evening, the chirping of a few birds outside still breaking the quietness once in a while. It was getting LATE, the elves of the WOODLAND realm getting ready to retire for the night, returning to their homes, spending the last couple moments of DAYLIGHT with their loved ones before the SLUMBER would overcome them. Alathiel knew better than to keep the young princeling up too late - the journey of PARENTHOOD teaching her quite a few of valuable lessons, one of which being that little elflings ABSOLUTELY did not want to sleep.

     “You are.” The elleth hummed in agreement, nodding her head as her EMERALD eyes took in her son’s sweet face and the excitement sparkling through him. A STRING TUGGED AT HER HEART - the idea of her and her husband being the ones to bring such a BUNDLE of joy and PURENESS into the world making her almost want to cry with happiness and love. A sparkle of affection washed over her features, making her wrap her arms around Legolas’ tiny frame to pull him closer before pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the elfling’s forehead.

He could sense how unsteady she was on her feet, and he slowed down as they neared the bridge that connected the feasting hall to the bed chambers. Theirs was located further than the others and was right down the hall from his father’s study and rooms. To have her walk all the way there when she was nearly swaying on her feet would be cruel.

So, Thranduil bent down a little to pick her up, his left arm pressed against her back and his right arm hooked under her knees. It was the same way that he’d carried her over the doorway of their new chambers during their wedding night: one of his fonder memories of their married life.

                          “You have my deepest apologies, melleth nin. It shan’t                             happen again.”

As stern as he wanted to be, her petulant pout was enough to get him to smile, and he chuckled as he crossed the bridge and began walking down the first corridor. Most of the elves had gathered in the hall, but there were still a few sentries at their post. Just because there was a celebration within his father’s halls didn’t mean that all of them could relax.

                          “Drinking in the middle of a conversation with Lord Elrond’s                             sons was ill-advised, especially with the subject matter at                             hand.”

He would tell her all about it in the morning. In the meantime, he needed to make sure that she was out of her dress and into a comfier nightgown, just so she could sleep her drunkenness away.

  The sudden LOSS of the floor beneath her feet made her widen her eyes in surprise before a giggle of pure GLEE errupted from her lips. Her arms immadiately wrapped around Thranduil’s neck, holding onto her husband tightly even though she was SURE the ellon would never drop her. Never. His arms were the safest spot in the entire world for her. Even if she was the kind of an elleth that KNEW perfectly how to take care of herself, how to fight for her own. She still ENJOYED it greatly when her husband cared for her.

    Alathiel pouted playfully in response to the teasing that the Prince had replied to her with. She threaded her fingers through his hair, gently tugging at the soft strands of pale moonlight as the man continued to carry her. Carry her in the exact same way he had done upon that memorable night of their wedding. That night when they finally became ONE.

    “It is not my fault that they decided to pour me a full cup of wine.” Alathiel defended herself. It was truly not much of a deal. At least in her INTOXICATED mind. The other ellons had been drinking along with her while they talked about everything and anything, there was not one ill-meant word among the crowd who had celebrated through the night.

    The elleth hummed softly as they entered their chambers, her emerald eyes taking in the beautiful room before she was set down on her own two feet again, though still swaying once Thranduil’s arms allowed her to stand on her own. “You never tell me about anything.” Alathiel pouted upon hearing the last part about a MYSTERIOUS subject at hand. She understood that the Aran’s duties were important, but she wanted to share his weight, share this burden.

    The elleth hummed softly, emerald eyes watching as the ARAN took the rose from her fingers and brought it close to smell the sweet fregrance. She tilted her head to the side, smiling at the softness of the gesture. It had been a special day for them, the day of lovers marking an anniversary of their relationship. Another year having passed with them still together, still as much in love as at the very beginng. And there was nothing more she could wish than that.

               “Can I not worry for the safety of my future queen?”

He was smiling as he watched her, nor did his smile waver once she was facing him. Thranduil had a feeling that she already knew what had happened during the meeting even though his father had explicitly told him not to share any information with her yet.

It is not time for her to share your burdens. Give her time to herself; we both know she would no longer have that luxury when you wed.

He supposed that his father was right. He remembered seeing his parents discuss everything while he was growing up. It was his mother that his father had trusted the most, and her advice was the one that he actively sought after each council meeting. That was the kind of relationship he wanted and planned to have. For now, his burden would be his alone, but he had no doubts that Alathiel could handle the pressures of being a princess of the woodland realm.

                “The meeting went as I expected. More sightings of                   Orcs have been reported. He is moving.”

That was as much as he would say. She did need to know the increasing danger; for all either of them knew, the Dark Lord had his eyes set on the Elven Kingdoms. A part of him wondered if this was the right time for them to marry. What if he had to leave and fight the forces of Mordor? What if he never came back and made her a widow, with no child to ease the pain of his passing? No heir to fill the throne of Mirkwood?

Such thoughts were never shared with her, and he lifted her hand, pressing his cheek against her palm.

    “Of course, you can.” Alathiel replied softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she heard the concern in the tone of his voice. She had always been able to read her lover’s expression, his emotions, anything he might be thinking of with just the sound of his voice or one look sent his way. He was like an open book for the young elleth and it made it easier for them to communicate. Often other elves commented on how well the two got along, how happy, how in love they seemed. It was all true. There was something about the bond between them, almost as if it had been made by beings much higher than then, a match made by fates.

     The elleth turned to face her betrothed fully, sharp green eyes gazing at him with an uncontrollable amount of LOVE and affection but also a sparkle of seriousness and concentration. As always he would come as first, before anything else --- but the well being of their realm was also important to the brunette. She was slowly, yet surely, learning the ropes of becoming a royal, a princess and some day a QUEEN. It helped that she had grown up around the palace, always close to the young prince.

     Alathiel nodded her head as she listened. The stag and the doe had wandered off a little to a fresh patch of grass where more sun was shining down upon them, while the elven couple remained standing in the same spot. The elleth took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them and lifting her hand to delicately cup Thranduil’s cheek. Her thumb softly brushed over his high, sharp cheekbone and she smiled softly.

   SOON-TO-BE-QUEEN giggled as she reached for the goblet once more and tipped it to her lips, allowing the last few drops of wine to fill her mouth before she swallowed and thanked the attendants with a sweet smile for taking the empty cup from her. She then turned to look up at her husband, biting on the inside of her cheek as she watched him offer out his hand to help her stand --- it would be much needed. The elleth could FEEL her knees getting weak before she even made a move.

    Alathiel pouted childishly but nonetheless grasped onto the offered hand, knwoing the dangers of walking across the bridges in an intoxicated state. The elleth politely said her goodbyes to the rest of the elves still remaining at the table where the feast was taking place under the clear, full of stars sky. It was the first day of SPRING and the elves rejoiced at the end of the long, cold days.

Before his betrothal, he could tolerate his father’s speeches, inspirational monologues, and battle plans. Now, he found himself getting easily distracted, his mind wandering to the elf maiden he’d left behind those doors. 

Oropher had noticed, of course, but aside from a stern reminder that he needed to focus, he wasn’t shamed in front of the other council members. His father had been young once. He knew the bloom of young love, the impatience, and the excitement. He couldn’t blame his son for feeling the same way.

Though the growing resentment between the Sindar and Noldor was worrying, he believed ( maybe foolishly ) that the conflict would sort itself out in the end. Surely the older and wiser elf lords wouldn’t let their inter-conflict affect the rest of Middle Earth?

The question briefly lingered in the back of his mind while he received some last minute information from his father, and then he was free. Thranduil didn’t stay in the room for very long; he was afraid that if he did, he might be told to do something else, and his time with Alathiel would be lessened even more.

He found her near the edge of the woods, accompanied by a very familiar stag and a doe. Galadhir, which was the name of his stag, was a present from his father. The doe belonged to Alathiel, and it was almost poetic that their animal companions had grown fond of each other too. Thranduil paused behind her, only for him to whisper her name before she could turn around and see him.

                      “An elf maid should not wander the woods alone.”

     The dark haired maiden hummed a soft song under her breath, smiling as she felt the stag’s head nudging against her hand as if silently asking for her to continue petting and scratching him. At the same time the doe began to nibble at the fresh, green grass of the meadown. The serene atmosphere of the late afternoon making everything so much softer, calmer, more peaceful. Alathiel was not stupid. She knew - or at least heard - of what was happening in the lands. Knew of the arguments, the battles, the wars, she was not an ignorant maiden, she had grown up around the palace, around the royal family --- she knew where and how to get her information even if Thranduil did not want to share any.

      Alathiel could feel his presence before being able to see him. Something within her always tugged at her heart whenever the ellon was close, whenever he was near her it was as if the halves of their souls called out to each other, begging to be joined once more without the elves even realising.