~Thranduil visits his dwarf friends and decides to journey south. Legolas is journeying as well, blissfully unaware of a surprise waiting for him back home.~

~♕~

"Love is putting someone else's needs
before yours."

– Olaf, Frozen

~♕~

26. House

Glóin lived in a surprisingly simple house, considering his immense wealth; moderately sized and devoid of luxuries such as a the copper roof or stained glass windows the rich human merchants favored. It was made of stone, naturally, and like the bridge it was beautifully crafted. Different types of rock gave the walls color and shape, and instead of a garden it was surrounded by a courtyard with flagstones in matching hues.

Thranduil walked up to the marble gate with Nimrodel on one arm and a basket with two wine bottles on the other, nearly stumbling over a male pigeon who was strutting about, trying to impress a lady and hence oblivious to anything around him.

Spring was in the air; the birds were mating and Thranduil had seen flowers along the forest road. He felt like spring was in his heart as well – the spring of first love. Every minute spent with Nimrodel made him happy, and whenever they must be parted he counted the hours until he could see her again.

Before he knocked on the door, he stole a kiss, taking the opportunity while they were alone. As always, stopping was the hardest part. Kisses were like cake to a starving elf – sweet and tasty, but not very filling. He craved a ten course dinner that lasted for an entire night.

When Glóin let them in some time later, Thranduil hoped his friend wouldn't notice how out of breath he was, or how flushed.

"There you are, at last! Come in, this way." He led them through a corridor with tasteful carpets and tapestries that ended in a cozy dining room, not unlike Thranduil's own, where a few other dwarves were already seated.

Dwalin huffed. "What took you so long – tree watching?" But Thranduil saw the grin partly hidden under the old dwarf's huge beard.

"Of course," he deadpanned. "Cannot trust those little rascals to open their buds properly in time for spring without my supervision."

Glóin interrupted the ensuing roar of laughter. "Enough chit-chat. Time for the malt beer and ripe meat!"

A dwarf feast, Thranduil soon discovered, was very unlike an elvish one. For one, the amount of food they managed to down was astonishing, as if they compensated for their lack of height with a tenfold appetite. It was a lot more noisy too, and messier since they only used a knife and their fingers as cutlery.

"Eating like this is kind of liberating," Nimrodel observed, licking grease off her fingers.

The unintentional innuendo made Thranduil squirm as his thoughts went a forbidden route and his body responded accordingly. "I think I prefer forks," he said carefully.

"Well, I could get used to it." She raised her goblet and drank deeply.

The froth on her lips when she put it down with a discrete burp served as another reminder of the many things Thranduil wanted to do to her. "I am glad you are enjoying yourself," he said instead.

Glóin squeezed himself down between them a bit unsteadily, laying an arm on each of their shoulders. "My friends, don't be shy, have another helping; there are plenty more." He stabbed a sausage from Thranduil's plate with his knife and stuffed it into his mouth. "I hope you find the dinner to your liking?"

"It is lovely." Nimrodel stabbed the remaining sausage, biting its end off. That ambiguity swiftly cured Thranduil's amorous thoughts.

"Glad to hear it," Glóin beamed. Then he turned to Thranduil. "So, now that the bridge is finished, how about the three of us make that journey south we talked about? It's due time we visited our laddies."

Thranduil nodded thoughtfully. His kingdom had peace, he wasn't needed there, and traveling together with Nimrodel and Glóin sounded very enjoyable. And, it had an additional benefit: privacy. Far away from other elves' spying eyes he could kiss his beloved as often as he liked.

"I believe you are right; it is time. Or what do you think, Thuriniel?"

She gave him one of her radiant smiles. "Aye. I am dying to know if I shall be a grandnana soon!"

Thranduil returned it, feeling an expectant twinge in his chest. "That is settled then. Give us a few days to pack, Master Glóin, and then we shall be on our way."

~♕~

Entering the golden canopy of Lothlórien was always a blessing, but though Legolas looked forward to his stay he was already a bit homesick. Or, rather, he longed for his wife. Lately, bedding her had been... he wouldn't say amazing, but so, so much better than before. She liked the act now; it wasn't painful – she hadn't said that outright but he could read it in her features. And she liked him again. Whatever she had felt for the human men in the city must have passed, for recently she was looking at Legolas almost the way she did before they were married.

But before he could return to the benefits of married life, he must finish what he came here for and restock the colony with young trees.

When he had ascended the long ladder to the royal talan – the tree platform where the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien resided – Legolas noticed Celeborn giving him strange looks.

"Anything the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing is wrong," said Galadriel, giving her husband a subtle shove. "If you would kindly pass me your list, we shall see what we can do about your sapling needs."

Pleased, Legolas handed it over and returned to his companions.

When it was time to leave the city the next morning, Galadriel came to see them off. "Take good care of them," she instructed, indicating the saplings.

"I will do my best." He hadn't told her the sad fate of most of the plants he bought the last time, and didn't intend to either.

She smiled. "I am glad to hear that. Soon I shall leave this forest, and it gladdens me to know my golden mellyrn will remain and prosper, both here and in your Ithilien. It will be my legacy."

"You are leaving?"

"Aye, very soon." She absent-mindedly twisted a ring on her finger. "I shall return to Aman, my homeland."

Legolas felt a pang of longing at the mention of that realm. "I wish I could go with you."

"Nay, nay," she said quickly. "You should stay. I was told you were recently married? Remain here with your wife, have an elfling or two, and take care of my mallorn trees. There is no hurry to sail west."

"I know," he replied, forcing away the regret. "Well, then, namárië until we meet again – in the Undying Lands."

~♕~

Legolas' journey down the Anduin became absolutely horrible. The weather changed from chilly and dry into an inferno of rain and sometimes hail, and when it didn't rain everything was covered in dense mist. It took a week longer than the usual two until the company finally reached Osgiliath.

After a month and a half on the road, Legolas wanted nothing more than to come back to the comforts of his tiny house – slight as they were, with the leaking roof and drafty walls – but first he must visit Minas Tirith briefly and ask Gimli to come and finally start draining the colony as he promised, so they could safely plant the new trees and not lose them to rot like the previous batch.

However, in the guesthouse the dwarves' favored, Gimli and his people were nowhere to be found. "They left the other week, but you could try Osgiliath," the owner suggested.

Back in Osgiliath, Legolas had no more luck, and even Faramir with his contacts among the dwarven craftsmen had no idea where the dwarf had gone. "But it is getting late," he said. "Join me and my wife for dinner before you continue searching. It has been far too long since you visited us."

Legolas grudgingly accepted; he had preferred to return home, but Faramir was right, they hadn't dined together in several months.

"Any news from the family?" Faramir asked an hour later, after their plates were empty and dessert had been brought in.

"You mean my adar? I have not spoken to him since I moved south."

"No, your new family. Your wife."

"Oh. She is at home, I suppose, probably cooking? I have been away for some weeks."

"But no other kind of news? Health-wise?"

"Uh, she was well last time I saw her..."

"By the Valar, love, stop beating around the bush!" Éowyn interrupted. "What my husband is trying to ask is whether your wife is expecting a child yet?"

"I don't think so." Legolas hoped he didn't blush. The mention of children reminded him of how pleasant the baby-making process had become lately.

"How unfortunate," said Faramir. "But not to worry; before you know it, you will hear the patter of little feet..." His expression became soft and he put a hand on his wife's swollen stomach. She must be due any day now.

"I hope so," said Legolas a bit enviously.

"So, I am glad to hear that Lasriel is well. But how are you doing?"

"All good. King Elessar and several of his lords have been very generous and now my pack horses are loaded with saplings from Lothlórien."

Faramir smiled. "I meant you. Are you happy? Is your marriage agreeable?"

"Oh. Well, I suppose..." A sudden image of Lasriel naked in bed flashed before his inner vision and he quickly pushed it away. "Aye, it is getting more agreeable now."

"But it wasn't before?" Éowyn cut in.

Legolas lowered his voice in case any of his company were listening. "Uh, it was not bad, as such, just..."

"Just...?"

"Lasriel is less ladylike than I had hoped, but she has other merits, and–"

"What do you mean, 'less ladylike'?" she said sharply.

Legolas shifted his seat, glancing at Faramir for support. "Like that time she climbed trees when I was taking the lords to see the plantations, remember?"

"Hm." Faramir frowned slightly.

"Well, and another time I found her in a disreputable part of Minas Tirith with mortar up to her elbows, laying bricks together with a bunch of rough worker men. And her hair is always a mess, unless I help her, and..." At Éowyn's stern face his voice faltered.

"If you wanted a meek lady-wife you should not have picked an elf," she snapped.

"Or a Rohirrim lady," Faramir added with a lopsided grin, winking at his wife. Then he became serious. "In a happy marriage, both parties accept the person they married for who they are, good sides and bad. Trying to change one another only leads to trouble and unhappiness."

Legolas didn't know what to reply. Surely it must be possible for Lasriel to learn to be the wife he needed?

"In a happy marriage," Faramir continued, "you become best friends. And just like you love your best friend with all their faults, you love your wife and respect her. And put her needs and wellbeing before your own."

His words made Legolas think about Gimli. It was true that he had never considered changing him in any way, though he certainly had flaws – and being a dwarf was only one of them.

"And also, what you consider faults may actually be advantages," said Éowyn. "By what you just told us, your wife can help you tend the forest and build houses. Sounds good to me."

Legolas couldn't hold back a chuckle at that. "I doubt she could build an actual house. Elves are not builders; that's why we hire dwarves."

"Maybe not." But she didn't look convinced.

"Thank you for the dinner." Legolas wiped his mouth, trying to sound neutral. "I must get going or it will be dark before I am home." He needed to escape from this awkward conversation.

But on the road to the colony his mind kept returning to what they had said. Accepting flaws... putting Lasriel's needs first... Would his marriage be happier if he stopped trying to make her be ladylike?

Perhaps it was worth a try. After all, he had money now; he wasn't so desperate to flatter the rich lords anymore.

Then he rounded a corner and saw the colony before him. The very different colony from the one he had left.

"Sweet Elbereth..." he mumbled. What had Lasriel done now?

A/N:

I'm sorry I didn't publish a chapter last week, for some reason my muse decided to take a vacation and I couldn't find inspiration to write... Thanks for your patience! And extra hugs to you who left comments and votes! <3

Translations: namárië = be well; farewell