I'm not meant to be doing this. He's seducing me. I can't let Thranduil trick me into staying here, keeping me from my task, forever concealing me from the world. It's already begun.

I'm torn right in two between giving him what he wants—my heart, soul and body—or shutting him out and requesting the help of another healer until I can leave.  I still have a task out there waiting for me, and an attachment to Thranduil will only slow me down.

But I want to stay with him.  He makes me feel safe, alive, free—all the happy feelings I could have possibly dreamed of all rolled into one.  I can't just let all that go.

According to Thranduil, Tavalon—Avadhil's father—is livid. Being an Elf of noble blood, he felt it was acceptable to take his anger out on Thranduil for bringing a Star here in the first place. Apparently it wasn't his son and his friends who caused the trouble—trouble was inevitable when something as valuable as a Star was brought into this kingdom.

'I sent him away before he could infuriate me any longer,' Thranduil finishes, with a smirk of satisfaction. Clean, dry and warm, he and I are sat on my bed talking. It's been hours since he brought me out of his room and into the hands of some healers to take care of me while he met with Tavalon. When Thranduil did return, he was relieved to be out of the irritable elf's company.

Over the past few hours, we've drifted away from the topic of the kiss. It's as if both of us are afraid to bring it up, although we desperately want to. I wish I could tell Thranduil what's been going on in my mind, but then all hopes of maintaining a good relationship with him are gone. Though it is completely futile, we've both taken it as if ignoring the kiss and the words spoken before it is the best way to go until we've made up our minds.

'Why is Tavalon one of your advisors if he's so awful?' I ask, picking at a loose thread on my new dress.

'Again, connections with my father meant he was guaranteed a high-ranking position in his kingdom. Tavalon's been an advisor longer than his sons have been alive, and they are both in their late 2000s. Despite loathing him with all my strength, I cannot possibly get rid of him. Although he's ridiculously short-tempered, he is loyal, decisive and an excellent leader in battle. There have been many wars which may not have been won if it weren't for him.'

My only response is a small grunt. My leg is playing up, which is making me feel almost as irritable as Tavalon was described; there is also another feeling, hot and unpleasant, throbbing in my head. I wriggle carefully under the covers while Thranduil is still sat at the other end, his eyes filling with concern as he sees me wince.

'Is something wrong, Elena?' he says, reaching down to touch my sweaty hand. When he does, he immediately draws back his fingers and gasps slightly. 'I... I think you're not well.'

'No, of course I'm well. It's just my leg,' I say dismissively, but Thranduil looks unconvinced.

'You've worn yourself out. And I can see that look, Elena. I can tell you're lying, and don't deny it again because I know a sick elleth when I see one.' He rises, and I accept defeat. Maybe I am a bit sick. So what? He can heal me, it's not impossible.

'Alright, what should I do?' I answer, and to my horror, this comes out far more rudely than I intended.

Ignoring my rudeness, Thranduil's thick brows furrow. 'I think I have something than can bring the temperature down, and I should probably get some more herbs for your leg. And perhaps some warm tea to help you sleep.' He advances towards the door, but before reaching for the handle, he turns around abruptly. 'I clearly cannot leave you on your own for very long, so I'll send a maid to look after you while I find exactly what you need.'

Although this only irritates me more, I nod. Thranduil disappears out into the corridor, and after a few minutes I can hear a new set of footsteps descending the stairs at one end and continuing towards my room. They are lighter than the King's, and a last second thought comes to mind—what if the maid is a friend of Avadhil?

With a creak of the door, a young, shy-looking elleth steps into my room, clearly quite nervous as she twirls a lock of wavy brown hair around one finger. I immediately relax upon spotting the innocence in her warm eyes.

'King Thranduil sent me to watch over you, my lady,' she says in a soft, sweet voice, smiling timidly.

I return the smile, instantly feeling some of the annoyance at having a maid disappear. 'What's your name?' I say kindly.

'I'm Gelya, my lady. I... I saw what they were doing to you earlier. It's not right, they shouldn't have put you through that.' Almost the second after the words have left her mouth, the young maid looks straight at the floor as if she was ashamed of what she had said.

'Mae govannen, Gelya. Thank you, and please, call me Elena.' At this, she meets my gaze again, and once more gives a shy little smile. 'King Thranduil had warned me of what people would say to Stars here, but I had to find out myself, didn't I?' I add, rolling my eyes.

She laughs a tiny bit, before really taking the time to look me up and down. 'You really are a Star? I had trouble believing it was true...'

'As would I if I were you. Stars don't Fall often. In fact the last one was over two thousand years ago. Your name, it was Gelya, was it not?'

'Yes,' she says, seeming to grow a little in confidence.

'I can tell you, your name is a beautiful one. I expect you have had many people telling you it means joy.' Feeling more irritation depart from my mind, I smile warmly at the young maid, whose smile in return is wider, more confident yet again. She steps a little forward to the end of my bed and rests one hand on the wooden frame.

'Yes, I do actually,' Gelya replies with a small laugh, 'thank you, though.'

'You're welcome.' The remaining anger and tightness left within me is now gone.

This time when Gelya smiles, I can see her pearly teeth. She brushes the lock of hair she was twirling away from her face, and only now, when she is relaxed and beaming, can I see how truly pretty she is. Her long hair frames her face, her cheekbones are softly defined and her smile reaches all the way to her chestnut-coloured eyes: a genuine grin.

Nodding for her to sit down, I notice how delicate she is as she perches gingerly on the end of my bed, the opposite side to where Thranduil tends to sit. Why did I think about that? Would I have been bothered if she had sat in Thranduil's place?

'I was told you had a leg injury. Would it be rude to ask how it happened?'

'N—no, it wouldn't,' I say as I snap out of my distracted state, 'I fell off the King's elk into a ditch. We were crossing rough terrain, so we were lucky it wasn't both of us.' For some reason, I felt I had to explain exactly why I fell. The problem is I don't even know myself what really happened, and I was compelled to extend Thranduil's words and make up an excuse for falling. How pathetic am I...

'Oh, I'm sorry. Is it true that the King saved you after you Fell from the sky? It's only a rumour, I had to ask,' Gelya says innocently, oblivious that I told a fake story.

'Yes, it is.' I have to stop overthinking my actions. Instead, my mind casts itself back to the night Thranduil saved me from the lake. Reliving the memory of his strong arms and shining platinum hair... it's enough to give me butterflies. I wish he would come back quickly... stop it. Gelya is waiting for a story. 'I Fell into a lake in the middle of the forest. Luckily, King Thranduil saw me Fall and came to see where I was. When he saw that I had Fallen in the lake, he dived in and got me out. I'd thought I was going to drown, and I was too cold to move—the water had not yet warmed up after winter. I am forever grateful that the King saved my life.' I sigh softly, recalling once again the exhilaration of being carried by Thranduil... and the touch of his lips.

Gelya's eyes are wide with fascination, but at my sigh, she narrows them and smirks. 'I recognise that sigh. You're in love with someone...' she gasps suddenly, 'is it the King?'

My heart pounding in my ears, I scoff unconvincingly. I may like Thranduil but as I've told myself before, it cannot be love. 'No, of course not. I'm not in love with anyone...' I rack my brain for a change of subject, 'are you?'

Gelya's smirk vanishes and she starts to turn pink around the ears. 'No... well, there are some handsome ellons around here, of course... Lord Avalor, he is quite handsome.'

Avalor? As in Tavalon's son, Avadhil's brother? Does she even know him? Thranduil hates him... but then, Thranduil dislikes a lot of elves. Perhaps Gelya's little crush is on a good ellon, not an awful one.

'Is he really? Do you know him well?' I do my best to sound innocent, but I probably sound mildly suspicious.

'No, we... we've never properly met. I just think he's rather nice-looking, that's all.' Her blush is covering most of her face now. 'He'd never like me, anyway. He is of the Sindar, while I am but a Silvan maid. The best I've ever done for him is serve him wine at parties.'

I open my mouth to reply, but the door bursts open to reveal Thranduil, bearing several bottles of herbs and a cup of steaming tea. It appears, with his hands full, he had to kick the door open.

'Thank you, Gelya. You are dismissed,' he tells the young elleth. She rises, gives a small curtsy and scurries out of the room as if she is slightly afraid of being too close to the King. Once she has closed the door behind her, Thranduil abandons his stern demeanour and quickly settles at the end of my bed, assembling the items in his hands.

'You look better already, Elena,' he says with a hint of surprise, 'how are you feeling?'

'I do feel somewhat better, as a matter of fact,' I reply, also pleasantly surprised, 'I think all I needed was a little joy. Gelya is quite lovely.'

Thranduil passes me the tea, and I inhale a deep whiff of herbs before beginning to drink. 'I am glad you feel better, but I still recommend you take these medicines. For your leg and your temperature. I also brought a fresh bandage.' He pulls back the bedcovers, removes my old bandage and gets to work applying a thick green herb to my leg wounds.

'Thank you,' I say, placing my drained teacup on the bedside table, 'and I mean for everything.'

He looks up from examining my wounds, but doesn't speak. The quick smile that follows is all I need.

***

Elvish:
Mae govannen = nice to meet you