#ithiliell

         Eyes glanced up, startled, before proceeding to stack yet more books into an already bulging pack. Trips to Imladris were seldom now the elves had sailed, yet knowledge still remained in the city. Knowledge just waiting to be unlocked and rediscovered.

        “I have to make sure I’m prepared for the library. Last time I didn’t bring enough Quenya translations. I do not wish to be stuck in the middle of translating again. It is entirely too frustrating, so I hope to avoid it with this trip.”

           A soft amusement eased across the King’s features; he made his way into her room and approached where she was packing her bags, a hand falling upon the back of her shoulder. 

“ [ i ] t is getting late, my child. you must get your rest, “ he spoke as gently as the summer breeze. The room was dimly lit in his youngest daughter’s room, adding a sense of warmth and comfort. Elessar sat in a single wooden chair beside her bed– his arms gently folded across his chest. 

The look his daughter gave him melted his heart. There was a special place in his heart for Ithiliel– there was a special place in his heart for all his children. They were all dear to him, and the thought of any harm coming to them caused his blood to boil. The King would do nearly anything to fill their lives with joy.

A small sigh escaped his lips, deciding to give into her wishes,

“ alright, a'maelamin – but just one. “

A smile tugged at his lips as he shifted from the chair to his daughter’s bed, taking a seat at the edge of her side.

               He heard her words: they caused a brief flicker                     of a frown and a furrow of his brows, though                     that first instance of a hint of  something  re-                     lenting slipped into that expression,  and he                     sighed.