My Heart's Desire - Part 2. If You Go Away.

A/N: I've managed to finish one more chapter before my vocation. But this one *is* the last till August. I'm sorry to leave you all hanging like this but... I promise I'll make up to you when I'm back. Thank you for your patience and for staying with me. :)

*hugs*


Chapter 14. A Turn Of The Road.

My memories of those years are vague. After I fled Lórien I did not come near it again, always keeping a safe distance between myself and the one who still held my heart. I thought there were two things likely to happen if we met: either I would kill him, or crumple and beg him to come back to me. I liked neither of the alternatives. So I stayed away and struggled through my days, which differed little from one another. Joy was gone from my life, and light and happiness… Life was gone from my life. I do not know why I lingered in Arda and did not leave for Valinor. No, this is not so – I do know: I did not want to return home as a miserable loser. What I told Celeborn was true: my pride was the only thing left to me. Oh, I know what they say about it – that pride goes before a fall. But I did not care then. So I lingered and waited for said fall. I should have known that there were people who would not let me die in peace. One of them lived in Mirkwood…


* * *


Haldir looked about glumly. Everywhere around him elves were laughing, singing and dancing. He sighed.

“I really do not know why I have come here.”

“To have a drink, to pick up a bedmate?” Amarion offered laughingly.

Haldir gave him a scowl. “I hate weddings,” he muttered.

“Since when?”

Haldir did not reply. “This is so stupid,” he grumbled a few minutes later, watching a covey of ellith line up behind the bride to try and catch her bouquet.

Amarion laughed again. “You are simply envious, that’s all.”

Haldir turned to him. “Envious? I?”

“Yes, you. Envious, because others have something you do not have.”

Haldir pursed his lips. “And what can that be?”

“Love.”

“But I have it.”

Amarion shook his head. “What you have is different, Haldir. I am not speaking about sex now - I am speaking of love, true love.”

Haldir looked at his flushed, slightly tipsy, crowned with flowers friend and smiled.

“So am I, Mari,” he said under his breath, so softly that Amarion did not hear.

There came a sudden many-voiced gasp and a bunch of flowers landed at Haldir’s feet.

“Oops,” Amarion laughed. “It seems you are going to be the next, my friend.”

“What would you like for your wedding present, Haldir?” Narmacil joined his lover’s teasing, coming up to them.

Haldir looked down at the bouquet with something akin to shock and then nudged it cautiously with the toe of his boot closer to Amarion.

“Do Lórien a favour, Mari, take it. There will be no more bondings here if you wait for mine. Ah, this all is so ridiculous… I really hate weddings.”

“Well, I hope you like begetting day celebrations better,” Haldir heard Orophin’s voice and turned his head to find his brother by his side. “Because you are going to attend one very soon.”

Haldir raise an eyebrow in surprise. “I am? And whose begetting day is that?”

“Prince Legolas’s.”

“What?” Haldir looked at him, still baffled. “Why should I…?”

“A Lórien delegation will go to Mirkwood for the occasion. Lord Celeborn has appointed you the commander of the guard.”

“Me? But… I cannot! Don’t you understand? *He* is sure to be there… ”

Orophin just shrugged. “This is the Lord’s order.”

“I shall talk to him,” Haldir decided. “I shall talk to him and ask him to send someone else.”

Orophin shrugged again. “You can always try.”

Haldir felt somewhat apprehensive, crossing the border of Mirkwood. He was not sure what kind of welcome he was likely to get from the king. Would Thranduil regard him as the rival who had first taken his lover away from him and then abandoned him after a short time? Or would he look at him as at some minor adventure Gildor had had between their reunions? It was with an uneasy feeling that he rode into the spacious yard in front of Thranduil’s grand palace.

But he soon found that he should not have worried. Thranduil greeted him just like any other member of their delegation. His eyes did not linger on Haldir longer than politeness or protocol required. Haldir realized with a considerable amount of vexation that Thranduil did not think him a real threat. No, no threat at all… But then, Haldir mused sullenly, he had always known he was no match for the woodland king. Well, at any rate it did not look like Thranduil was planning any revenge…

The Lórien elves were the first to come to Mirkwood and Haldir waited with trepidation for the arrival of the Imladris delegation. He wanted to see Gildor, he was longing, dying to see him, though he was aware that he was likely to be left thoroughly bruised after the encounter, both literally and figuratively speaking. Their meeting was inevitable now and Haldir was looking forward to it, at the same time resigning himself to paying the price for this poignant and precarious pleasure.

The Imladris party arrived a day later, and as soon as they rode into the yard, Haldir discovered that neither Gildor nor the princes were among them. He saw Glorfindel and Lindir and recognized some guards he had been acquainted with. Haldir kept back and watched as Glorfindel jumped off his horse and all but ran to meet prince Legolas, who flew down the main staircase and threw himself on the Balrog slayer’s neck. Glorfindel swirled him around and gave him a hearty kiss, earning approving laughter and applause from the onlookers. A short time later king Thranduil appeared to welcome the newly arrived guests and then the Imladris party was shown to their quarters.

Haldir did not make any attempt to approach Glorfindel as he saw that the Elda had eyes only for his prince. Neither did he try to talk to the guards he knew, for all of them were from Gildor’s patrol and he doubted he would get a warm welcome there. So he remained clueless as to where Gildor was and why he had not come until later that day he happened upon Lindir in one of the halls of the palace.

“Lindir!” he called the minstrel and was relieved to see the young elf smile at him in his usual open and charming manner.

“Haldir! I did not know you are here. It is so nice to meet you again.”

“You too, Lindir. So I see the princes have kept their word – you are in Mirkwood.”

Lindir smiled again, this time a little dreamily. “Aye, I am in Mirkwood.”

“And the princes themselves, where are they?” Haldir asked casually.

Lindir shrugged. “I do not know. Somewhere in the wilds.”

“Won’t they come here?”

Lindir’s clear blue eyes studied Haldir’s face. “Of course they will,” the minstrel answered then. “Gildor will not miss Legolas’s majority day. He shall come, Haldir.”

Haldir sighed, dropping all the pretence of nonchalance. “How has he been all these years, Lindir?”

It was the minstrel’s turn to sigh. “I really do not know what to answer to your question. I do not see him much: he is rarely at home. And when he is, he is not interested in music. He is not merry company these days, Haldir. He does not sing any more, nor does he dance… He talks very little and mostly about battle. I do not… ”

Suddenly Lindir fell silent, looking over Haldir’s shoulder with wistful eyes. Haldir turned around. Thranduil was crossing the hall, talking to his elder son. Both the king and the prince smiled politely at them and disappeared around the corner. Haldir turned back to Lindir. The minstrel had that distant, out-of-this-world look Haldir had seen him have when a new song was starting to sound in Lindir’s heart. No one had the right to stand between a minstrel and his inspiration so Haldir said goodbye to Lindir, leaving him to his dreams and to the music, born of them.


Haldir’s anxiety kept on building up. Rúmil watched his younger brother fidget and worry till he could stand it no longer.

“Why are you so nervous, Haldir?” he asked with a sigh. “It’s not like anything depends upon your meeting with Gildor.”

Haldir shrugged, not looking at Rúmil.

“Besides,” the elder Galadhel went on, “Thranduil’s palace is large enough to avoid any unwanted encounter if you are so loath to see him. It is unlikely *he* would try to seek *you* out.”

Haldir scowled at him half-heartedly. “Well, thank you, that helps.”

“What are you afraid of, little brother?” Rúmil baited him. “If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it long ago when he walked in on you and Mergil.”

Haldir gave him a joyless smirk. “No, I am not afraid of that.”

“Then what?” Rúmil pressed.

Haldir sighed and looked away. “I am not sure I can stand to see him with another,” he admitted quietly.

“You mean you are… jealous?”

Haldir did not answer and Rúmil sighed. “So you still care about him? Haldir, you are being irrational. Why did you leave him then?”

“I thought I would be better off without him,” Haldir admitted unhappily.

“And now you do not think so?”

Haldir shook his head. “It was such a stupid thing to do,” he murmured.

Rúmil canted his head to one side. “Haldir, forgive me a silly question but… you did not expect him to remain forever faithful to you after you left him, did you?”

Haldir gave an evasive shrug. “Actually, I did not think he was faithful to me *before* I left,” he admitted after a pause.

“Oh,” Rúmil stared at his brother for along moment. “I see… And was he not…?”

Haldir sighed. “I do not know… I am not sure any more. But it is like you said: it is too late for second thoughts now.”

“Do you… do you want to get him back?” Rúmil asked hesitantly.

“Yes.”

“Do you think you can?”

“No.”

“Oh little brother, what a mess… ” Rúmil looked at Haldir with compassion. “What are you going to do?”

“I do not know. I am not sure I can do anything… ”

“But are you going to…?”

“For pity’s sake, Rúmil, I do not know!” Haldir exclaimed in exasperation. “Leave me be for now. Please.”

“All right, tôren,” Rúmil complied. “Just remember: whatever happens, I’ll be there for you.” [my brother]

He gave Haldir a warm hug.

“I know,” Haldir smiled. “Thank you.”


The longer he had to wait, the more restless Haldir felt. He could not stay in one place for long so he wandered the halls of the spacious palace and its premises. In the morning of the celebration day he woke up early and decided to take a stroll in the park. He went out of the house just in time to see Gildor and the twins ride into the front yard. Haldir stopped still, avidly drinking in the sight of his former lover.

Gildor was clad in black leather and his hair was plaited into a single tight rope. An errant golden strand escaped the braid and danced in the breeze, caressing Gildor’s cheek, and the Vanya pushed it back from his face impatiently. He was pale and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He looked… older. Now Haldir would not mistake him for an elfling hardly past his majority. But he still was breathtakingly beautiful and Haldir’s heart wept for what he had lost.


They had been riding hard to be in time for the celebration and Gildor felt weary.

“If I do not manage to get a nap, I shall fall asleep right at the ceremony,” he complained as they dismounted.

“That makes two of us,” Elladan sighed.

“Three,” Elrohir corrected him.

Grooms ran up to them to take their horses. Gildor turned his head and - saw Haldir. His heart stopped. He was so unready to find Haldir in Mirkwood that it took him several moments to realize that he was seeing the Galadhel in the flesh and not just an illusion created by his weary mind. His heart came painfully alive then and sped up, pounding against his ribs with the force of a hammer. He schooled his features as well as he could, frantically trying to conceal his shock and to collect his scattered wits. If the twins were saying anything to him, he did not hear because of the blood roaring in his ears.

‘Breathe,’ he told himself. ‘Move.’

He willed himself to put one foot in front of the other and walked past Haldir on wooden legs.

Haldir stood rooted to the ground, stunned by the way Gildor looked at him or, rather, *through* him as if he were made of glass or just were not there at all. He had seen profound shock in Gildor’s eyes the first moment the Vanya recognized him. Obviously, his presence in Mirkwood was not a pleasant surprise for Gildor. But after the initial jolt the Vanya was quickly able to regain his self-control, becoming cold and aloof, and did not spare him a second glance. Haldir braced himself for an attack from Gildor’s watchdogs but though the twins eyed him suspiciously, they passed him without saying a word, following Gildor up the grand staircase. As Thranduil hurried out of the doors to meet them, Haldir wondered with dark sarcasm how the Mirkwood king and the Imladris princes were going to share Gildor between them.

Gildor stopped in front of Thranduil to give him a proper formal greeting but Thranduil pulled him into his arms without ceremony and gave him a warm hug.

“I am sorry,” he murmured into Gildor’s ear. “I did not have a chance to warn you he is here.”

“I am fine,” Gildor answered just as quietly.

“No, you are not. Whom are you trying to fool?” Thranduil pulled back a little to look Gildor in the face.

The Vanya gave him a faint smile. Thranduil tucked a stray lock of Gildor’s golden hair behind his ear and the gentle brush of Thranduil’s fingers over the sensitive tip sent a slight shiver down Gildor’s spine. His eyes widened at the almost forgotten feeling and his own reaction to it. No one had touched him as a lover for years and he sincerely believed he was dead to that sort of sensations. Thranduil seemed to read his mind.

“My poor friend, did you really believe you were dead? You should have come to me sooner.”

He dipped his head and, startling Gildor even more, captured his mouth in a gentle kiss. Gildor closed his eyes, savouring the warm tingle that spread through his body. He sighed slightly and the soft puff of his breath washed over Thranduil’s lips as the king pulled away, breaking the brief contact. Gildor was able to relax a little and to smile again.

“Oh, Your Majesty,” he murmured, “what a violation of etiquette.”

“To Mordor with etiquette,” Thranduil grinned at him. “I am a king, I can afford it.”

“But I still want to observe some formalities and to introduce my companions to you.”

He turned to the twins, who were waiting politely at some distance away, and motioned for them to come closer.

“Thranduil, these are my loyal friends, princes Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond of Imladris.”

The twins bowed and Thranduil smiled.

“Welcome to Mirkwood, young princes. I hope you will enjoy your stay in my realm.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Elladan replied civilly. “We are sure we shall.”

By this time both Aranaur and Legolas were by their father’s side and Thranduil went on with the introductions.

“And these are my sons: Aranaur and Legolas.”

The two pairs of princes smiled at each other.

“We have heard a lot about you, prince Legolas,” Elrohir said, still smiling. “Our seneschal has been talking of no one else for years, praising you to the sky.”

“Have I said a single word of lie?” Glorfindel inquired, joining them at this moment.

“No. We can see that your praise was just,” Elladan admitted as Legolas shifted backwards and moulded into the welcoming circle of Glorfindel’s arms.

“We know less about you, prince Aranaur,” Elladan continued. “The more pleasure it will give us to get to know you better.”

The princes of Imladris and the crown prince of Mirkwood looked each other up and down appraisingly and decided that they liked what they saw.

Haldir watched the scene unfolding in front of him and found it harder and harder to witness with each passing moment. It hurt with a physical pang to see someone else touch Gildor, stroke his hair, kiss him. He asked himself if Rúmil could be right and he had been stupid enough to believe deep in his heart all this time that Gildor still belonged to him. It was one thing to assume Gildor could have taken other lovers but it was quite different to see with his own eyes that the Vanya *had* started a new life or, rather, gone back to the old one. It was quite obvious that the twins were not going to compete with Thranduil: the king put his claim on Gildor and the princes stepped aside with a bow.

The merry group of elves at the top of the grand stairs looked like a large family and Haldir acutely felt he was an odd elf out. He turned around and walked away, seeking the quiet and solitude the alleys of the park could offer. He did not notice the thoughtful look Thranduil followed him with.

Thranduil led his guests inside, saying he would show them to their rooms himself. Aranaur took his younger brother away for Legolas had a long day before him and there were still preparations to be finished. As the rest of them walked along the corridor, Elladan asked nonchalantly, “For how long have you been here, Glorfindel?”

“Two days.”

“I see. So… prince Legolas – is he still a virgin?”

“For pity’s sake, Elladan, keep your voice down!” Glorfindel hissed at him, throwing a worried glance at Thranduil who was walking with Gildor ahead of them.

“Hmm… What do you think, Ro: is it a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”

“I would say it’s a ‘no’,” Elrohir murmured, amused.

To Glorfindel’s relief they reached the divide in the hall at this moment and he pointed to the left. “My room is that way. I have brought festive attires for you. You will find them in your chamber. I shall meet you later.”

And he walked briskly away.

“Thank you, Seneschal,” Elladan called after him, laughing.

Finally they reached their destination and Thranduil opened the door for the twins.

“This is your suite. I hope you will find everything to your liking.”

They looked hesitantly at Gildor and Thranduil smiled.

“Do not worry, he is *my* charge now and I can promise he will be safe with me.”

“I shall not be far away,” Gildor added. “Just next door.”

Gildor resumed his way and Elrohir entered the suite. Elladan lingered on the threshold for a moment longer.

“If he falls asleep, do not leave him alone,” he told Thranduil. “His dreams are troubled nowadays.”

Thranduil nodded in understanding and Elladan followed his brother into their rooms. He found Elrohir in the bedchamber staring at the vast bed with a contented expression on his face.

“Ah, the comforts of civilization,” the younger twin sighed blissfully. “First a bath, then a bed,” he decided.

Elladan put a shoulder to the doorframe and folded his arms, enjoying the sight of his twin in his state of joyous anticipation.

“Hmm… A bath and a bed sound good,” he purred. “And I would say this rug looks promising too.”

Elrohir turned around. “No,” he said sternly though one corner of his mouth was twitching ever so slightly. “I have had my fill of hard surfaces. It is either the bed or nothing at all.”

“As you wish, meleth.” Elladan pushed himself away from the door and advanced on his brother slowly, dangerously. “Whatever you wish, however you wish… ” [love]

Elrohir’s pulse sped up at the hungered look on his twin’s face.

“Bath, El,” he reminded in a suddenly hoarse voice. “Bath first.”

“…and wherever you wish… ”


Gildor was standing in the middle of the front chamber of the royal suite, looking lost and even apprehensive as if he had never shared it with Thranduil before. Thranduil wondered what new fears lurked in the dark corners of Gildor’s heart. He walked up to his friend and took him in his arms, pressing his cheek to Gildor’s temple.

“I hoped I would hear you laugh again,” he sighed.

“Sorry,” Gildor murmured.

“I am glad you have finally come.”

“So am I… But please, do not ask me anything… It… all is over anyway and I do not want to talk about it.”

Thranduil was silent and Gildor pulled back to get a look at his face.

“Promise me that you will not ask me any questions,” he insisted. “And that you will not attempt anything even if you think it is for my own good.”

“All right,” Thranduil gave in.

“No, say it!”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Gildor notably relaxed in Thranduil’s arms. “I missed you… ”


Thranduil understood soon enough what exactly Elladan had meant, speaking of Gildor’s troubled dreams. The Vanya fell asleep the moment his head touched a pillow. Thranduil went out into the front chamber, but hardly half an hour later Gildor’s scream brought him back at a run. He found Gildor sitting in the bed, his eyes wild, his chest heaving.

“Gildor? What is it?”

It took Gildor a couple of moments to recognize him.

“Thranduil?” The Vanya looked terribly disoriented.

“What happened?” Thranduil came up to the bed and sat down on the mattress, taking Gildor’s hand in his.

“Nothing.” Gildor was finally able to collect his wits and to remember where he was. “Just a nightmare.”

Thranduil sighed, moved to lean against the headboard and pulled Gildor to rest against his broad chest.

“Try to fall asleep again. I shall stay with you.”

Gradually Gildor relaxed in his arms and his breathing became even again as slumber claimed him.

‘No, my friend,’ Thranduil thought compassionately, ‘nothing is over yet.’

Soon the Mirkwood ruler began to wonder how he was going to combine keeping vigil by his friend’s side and seeing to the things that required his personal presence. He got help from an unexpected corner. Glorfindel knocked at his door with a message that Legolas needed his father and offered Thranduil to change him by Gildor’s side. However, it was not the Imladris seneschal but the Imladris princes that Thranduil found in his suite when he returned. He was glad to see that all three of his guests looked well rested.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

The twins nodded but Gildor shook his head.

“Did you not like the food?” Thranduil frowned.

Gildor smiled a little apologetically. “Do not blame your cook. I am simply not hungry. I might as well wait till the feast.”

“Well, then get ready. It is time to start dressing.”

“Start dressing… ” Gildor’s eyes widened a little. “I have completely forgotten!” He turned to the twins. “What about our clothes? Have they brought anything for us?”

“Well, they have brought something for *us*,” Elrohir replied. “I am not sure about you, though.”

“Even if they have,” Thrunduil interjected, “you will not need it. Come here.”

He led Gildor into the bedroom, opened the wardrobe and took out a robe.

“What is it?” Gildor asked in surprise.

“Your attire for tonight. Put it on and let us see how you will look in it.” He gave the garment to Gildor and produced a pair of boots from the wardrobe. “These go with your robe. And put this on too.” He opened a casket on the table in front of the mirror.

“You seem to have it all thoroughly planned,” Gildor remarked, suspicion lacing through his tone.

“Of course I have,” Thranduil laughed. “Today is a special day, isn’t it? I want everything to be perfect.”

“Including me.” Gildor started having an uneasy feeling.

“Yes. Come on, try it on.”

Thranduil left him to dress and joined the twins in the front room. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a curious look, waiting to see what was Thranduil’s intent. They heard indistinct muttering from the bedchamber and then an indignant gasp.

“Thranduil! You cannot expect me to wear this!”

Thranduil grinned. “Please, mellonen, do me a favour and put on everything I gave you. I deserve at least to see the result of my efforts.” He gave a wink to the intrigued twins. [my friend]

There came more of dark muttering and then the bedroom door opened and Gildor marched in. He stopped in front of the three elves and placed his fists upon his hips.

“Well?” he demanded angrily. “What do you call this?”

For a moment neither of the twins could speak. Then Elladan cleared his throat nervously and Elrohir gave a lopsided smile.

“Sweet Elbereth!” they breathed together.

Thranduil looked Gildor up and down slowly, pleased satisfaction lighting his eyes and curving his lips.

“I would say you look… very nice.”

The soft green silk of the robe hugged Gildor’s upper body and streamed down in elegant folds, surging enticingly around his legs. A provocatively low neckline revealed a breathtaking view of his well-toned chest. A mithril choker encircled his neck, with a drop-shaped emerald falling directly over the hollow at the throat. The long sleeves were slanted from the elbow to the wrist, opening to the eye the wide bands of mithril bracelets. The fine material clung to Gildor’s body lovingly, outlining its alluring contours, while the rich colour of the fabric accented the brightness of his furious gaze.

“I… I think you look… presentable,” Elrohir offered tentatively, still impressed by Gildor’s outfit.

“Hm? And how about this?” Gildor pulled up the skirt of his robe indignantly to demonstrate the grey suede boots that climbed his long legs up to mid-thigh. Their wide tops were gathered with silver buckles.

“Oh… ” Elladan swallowed. “It is a shame no one will see that.”

“You think so?”

Gildor let go of the hem of the robe and twirled around so that Elladan could see that the skirt had high slits on both sides, and as the flaps flew apart, Gildor’s suede-clad legs were displayed in full splendour.

“I look like a whore!” Gildor stared at Thranduil accusingly.

Thranduil laughed, unfazed by his anger. “You look like a royal consort, and a very beautiful one at that.”

“If this is your idea of what a royal consort should look like, I am genuinely grateful I am not one. And I am certainly *not* going anywhere dressed or rather undressed like this. They all will be ogling at me, wondering how I look without this on.”

“They might be,” Thranduil admitted laughingly. “And I believe not a few of them will be fiercely jealous of me.”

He winked at Gildor. The Vanya frowned and bit on his lip, and Thranduil rose to his feet, came up to him and put his hand on his shoulder. “Please, meldiren, do as I ask and let them think what they will.”

Gildor shook his head doubtfully. “For the Valar’s sake, Thranduil! It is Legolas’s majority day. I cannot wear such a provocative attire for his ceremony.”

“Are you afraid you will outshine the main star of the occasion?” Thranduil teased.

“Your guests will be shocked,” Gildor sighed.

“They will be shocked all right,” Thranduil confirmed with a smirk. “But since when are you worried about shocking someone? As far as I remember you actually enjoyed doing just that.”

“I am changed now,” Gildor said quietly.

“Aye, you are,” Thranduil agreed, “but surely not that much? Please, Gildor, trust me,” he asked then, squeezing his friend’s shoulder. “You will see that it is worthwhile.”

“I really do not see why I should comply with some fishy schemes of yours,” Gildor grumbled but Thranduil’s smile widened, as he already knew that Gildor would give in.

The Vanya turned his head and gave himself a sour once-over in the mirror. “I look like a royal whore… Well, at any rate against the background I shall provide Legolas’s purity and innocence will shine brighter than the light of Eärendil.”

Legolas did shine like the brightest star, his smile illuminating any place he entered. His elation seemed to be contagious and wherever he went that day, he left in his wake smiling faces and hearts filled with joy.

The robe he had put on for the ceremony was in the colours of Mirkwood: green and brown. He wore no decorations - his youth and his happiness were his best adornments. His eyes were gleaming with hopeful expectation and he was breathtaking in his young blossoming beauty.

Aranaur could not help smiling at his brother’s eagerness and excitement as they walked along the corridor to join their father. When they met Thranduil and Gildor at the juncture, Aranaur gave a long whistle at the sight of the Vanya.

“This *is* a surprise, Ada. So this was what you discussed in such detail with the Chief Seamstress?”

“You look really seductive, Gildor,” Legolas offered his opinion.

The elder prince burst into laughter. “Oh, Gildor, you should be flattered by a compliment from such an expert.”

Legolas made a face at him. “We shall see who is more of an expert in a couple of decades.”

“Stop teasing your little brother, Aranaur,” Thranduil said, hiding a smile.

“Ada!” Legolas exclaimed in mock indignation. “I am no longer his *little* brother! I am an adult now.”
“Yes,” Thranduil agreed, a faint tinge of sadness colouring his voice. “You are all grown-up now, ion. All of a sudden… ” [son]

Gildor raised an eyebrow at his melancholic tone and Thranduil gave him a quick smile and an apologetic shrug.

As they came closer to the grand hall where the ceremony was to be held, Gildor’s stomach churned in apprehension. Thranduil threw a side-glance at his friend and saw that colour was draining from his face gradually. He took his hand and squeezed the cold fingers reassuringly. As the major-domo opened the tall doors of the hall for them, Gildor made to move away but Thranduil tightened his hold on the Vanya’s hand.

“Where are you going?”

“King Thranduil,” a herald announced in the hall.

“I do not think I should enter with you, Thranduil,” Gildor said uneasily. “I am not a member of your family. I shall come in through another door.”

“Prince Aranaur. ”

“Oh no, I am not taking any chances with you,” Thranduil smirked. “What if you chicken out at the last moment and do not show up at all?”

“Prince Legolas.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Thranduil.” Gildor tried nervously to extricate his hand from Thranduil’s grip.

Thranduil made a sign to the herald.

“Lord Gildor of Imladris.”

“No way out now,” Thranduil grinned. “You have to enter with us.”

“Damn you, Thranduil!” Gildor jerked his hand free. “Must you always have your own way?”

“Yes, if I think my way is the right one,” Thranduil replied, unabashed, entering the grand hall.

“You will pay for this,” Gildor muttered darkly as he followed the royal family inside.

Thranduil’s lips tilted into a half smile at the familiar threat of vengeance.