It is early eventide when we reach the stables, the forest a dusky grey. But the trees are gloriously alive, even though their branches are barren from the cold. The evil has not yet touched them. Home is a welcome sight.

The stablehands say nothing at our arrival, but their questioning eyes scan our soaked apparel as we dismount Gilroch. I offer no excuse. Neither does Thranduil. Our close friendship is well known in the kingdom, but with the rumor abound of an unhappy marriage, I cannot deny I am afraid our curious excursion will provide more fodder for the village gossips.

I rub Gilroch's muzzle in gratitude before departing and hope he will remember me next time. If there is a next time. The thought of never returning to the golden pool is too much to contemplate. A groom helps walk the beast to his stall and closes the gate door, a home far too small to contain him.

"If you set him free from that prison, I do not believe he would leave you."

Thranduil says nothing for a while, as though contemplating my words. "In only a day's ride you claim to understand him more than any other."

"He is much like Legolas. And you, also."

After ensuring all gates are secure, the young grooms leave the stables to return home for their suppers, a lone guard remaining to protect the animals. A horse suddenly makes a loud whicker.

"What do you mean?" asks Thranduil.

"He does not belong secluded in a stable, cut off from the world. He is an explorer, a warrior. He requires freedom to be who he is truly is. But if he remains secluded, he will forget. Perhaps he will become afraid."

Thranduil keeps silent as we head to the caves.

The amber lights of the stone halls are a warm contrast to the bleakness of the winter forest, the cavern stream like a gentle song. Looking forward to a warm bath and dry clothes, and also hoping not to run into any inquisitive neighbors, I say farewell to Thranduil and quicken my steps to reach my chambers.

As I begin to turn the handle, the door to the adjacent room opens. I stand frozen in place.

"Ada."

His eyes widen as he notices my attire. "Mae athollen, iellig. Have you been through a rainstorm? The skies were clear when last I was outside."

If there is anyone I feel safe telling, it is my father. He knows my friendship with the King better than anyone. "Nay, I was with Thranduil."

His puzzled expression softens to a smile. "Your time was enjoyable, I hope?"

Of all the questions he could have asked, this one catches me off guard completely. I shift my weight to the other leg. "It...yes, it was."

"That is good to hear, iell nín. You deserve a little fun."

My confusion must be obvious. Does he know where we were? Thranduil did not mention Ada's name among the small list of the pool's visitors, but perhaps he is aware of its existence.

"I am leaving to visit Randir, brother of Noruidor the Smith," he says. "He has sought my counsel on a business matter. And I am feeling generous."

"What kind of business matter?"

"I do not yet know, but his ideas have become bolder of late. I suppose it is to be expected given his recent dealings with the Men of Dale."

"Take care, Ada. Do not stay out too late."

I watch him leave, my hand still touching the handle to my rooms. He acted as if there was nothing strange about me returning on an outing with the King in a wet gown. Perhaps his mind was preoccupied with his meeting with Randir.

Judging from the curious gazes of the stable grooms and guards, Ada is the only one without questions.

It is not until I enter my chambers and begin lighting the candles when I smell the wood smoke, and the familiar scent I cannot name, and realize I am still wearing Thranduil's cloak.

-----

I have not been back to Laurenendë. But since the fateful news of the Halfling's mission to destroy the One Ring, and the reality that our lives hang in the balance, Thranduil has been hastily preparing for war. He commanded Tauriel and Feren to train more soldiers, and even ordered stronger fortifications to be built to protect our vulnerable village.

Now at winter's end, a defensive stone wall surrounds us with guards stationed at every end. It is not half as tall or strong as the walls of the grand cities of Men. Time has been far too precious. But it is better than nothing.

There have been no tidings regarding the whereabouts of Legolas' fellowship, only reports of a growing darkness from Mordor, and legions of orcs as far as eyes can see marching towards Gondor.

And so we wait, holding our breaths, for the arrival of an army from Dol Guldur. I still have not given up trying to persuade Thranduil to form an alliance and call for aid, but his stubbornness is more enduring than the trees of Fangorn Forest. We are on our own.

My gaze falls on the newly-trained guards patrolling the village road as I take a late afternoon walk with Gwendes. Most are Silvan Elves, fishers and smiths, keen on protecting their homes and families. There are still not enough.

"My lessons with Tauriel have ceased for now," I say, an explanation unnecessary. "But it is my hope I will be able to defend myself better if the time comes. When the time comes."

Gwendes reaches out to touch a green bud from an optimistic flower bush. "Tis what you hoped for, yes?"

"It is, though I foolishly hoped I would become as skilled as my teacher. It did not take long for me to return to my senses. Tauriel was born with a natural talent. I was born with clumsy hands and a head too far in the clouds."

She giggles. "You have talents in other areas. Besides, there is still much time to learn."

"I am not so sure. How long do we have before war reaches the Greenwood? We are right within Sauron's grasp..."

"The King will protect us." She raises her chin. "You have said so yourself."

"Yes, but--"

"Remember the fortifications he has put in place. The training of soldiers, the nightly curfew. We are more prepared now than ever before. I doubt you will need to use your knives anytime soon, my lady."

I look at my young friend. The afternoon sun has given her strawberry hair a summery halo. What is the source for this sudden expressed confidence in Thranduil? Like Lady Aethel and many others, Gwendes has voiced nothing less than skepticism over the King's motives in the past. She once even believed him responsible for Elros' lack of interest in her.

"You are right," I say. "He...he has never lost a battle."

"Have you ever seen his scar?"

"Pardon?"

"The one he keeps hidden by enchantment," she clarifies. "Ada says it was caused by dragon fire."

Realization pours over me like cold water. It has been so long since I pondered the scar that I had forgotten its existence. He never allows it to be seen in public. And he certainly has never shown it to me.

I smile. "I believe the only one to have seen it is not a person, but his looking glass."

"I have heard it is quite disfiguring."

Two laughing elflings dart from the forest, one chasing the other. They appear to be twins, a brother and sister. As the Eldar do not procreate often, there are few children among us. Twins are especially a rare thing.

I hope Gwendes' sudden faith is not misplaced, and that our realm will survive this war. There is too much to lose.

"Have you given any more thought to your love interest?" I ask, eager for a more lighthearted subject.

"Oh, yes. He is ever present in my thoughts, so much so that I cannot believe I once had feelings for Elros..."

"Perhaps he thinks of you just as much."

"I know better than that, my lady."

I open my mouth to protest, but a sudden movement in the distance steals my attention, as does the growing sound of clopping hooves. The twin children quickly move off the road to the safety of the grass, their eyes wide and expectant. Gwendes and I follow them.

As the small host passes us, my breath catches when I see Lord Ferdir leading on his dappled grey, a sky-blue banner of Lothlórien waving in the air. They are heading towards the caves.

If Ferdir noticed us, he gave no indication. Judging from the granite set to his jaw and the swift movement of the horses, I doubt his visit is one of leisure. A feeling of alarm buzzes through me, speeding the pace of my heart.

Something is wrong.

I address Gwendes. "I am going to see if I can discover what news they bring. Return home and wait for me. I shall come as soon as I am able."

"Do you believe there is trouble in Lórien?"

"I cannot say for certain, only that something is amiss." I look towards the bridge. The host has disappeared. "They appear to be in earnest. I promise I shall return later and tell you what I learn."

Before turning to leave, I notice the twin elflings are still standing in the grass, watching me curiously. "Go home to your family for now, young ones. It is nearly time for supper."

With quickened steps I pass over the bridge and reach the tall keep doors, the same doors Ferdir and his companions entered only moments ago. The sound from the river is a rush in my ears, and I feel a strange sense of foreboding.

I approach a high-cheeked guard standing sentry at the entrance. "Do you know where the host of Lothlórien went?"

He narrows his eyes. "They sought audience with the King, my lady. Why do you ask?"

"Hannon-le." I stride through the entrance without answering, and hope he will forgive my rudeness should we meet again.

There is no one present in the throne room save for a guard. Thranduil does not spend much time here unless expecting visitors. It is apparent from his absence he did not anticipate their coming.

If not on his throne, he is likely in his chambers. I climb the steep stairs leading over the Dining Hall to the King's secluded domain. I know it is not my place to pry into matters which do not concern me. I am not Queen. But Lord Ferdir is a friend, and Thranduil is my closest. I feel a strong compulsion to be present if the tidings are grim.

And to understand why I feel such a heightened sense of alarm.

I walk down the dim hallway to the large double-doors of his chambers. They are closed, a guard at both sides.

"May I enter?"

"King Thranduil has visitors, my lady."

I recognize him as the besotted youth at my Aur en-Onnad who helped bring in Caewen's harp and did not wish to leave her side. He is not so merry now.

"I know, but I..." I trail off, unable to voice an adequate reason for gaining entrance into a private meeting which does not concern me. "I shall wait here."

Steadying my breathing, I lean against the hard stone wall. I feel foolish as I wait, and I suspect the guards think me so also. My friendship with the King does not grant me access to storm into his private meetings whenever I wish.

Has my closeness to Thranduil deepened to where I have forgotten my station?

Before I can ponder it further, the doors swing open and there is Ferdir, his expression grim. There are heavy shadows under his bronze eyes.

"Lady Rîneth? What are you doing here?"

"I saw you arrive. You seemed in a hurry. I confess I was...worried. I came to find you."

His expression softens. "If only I could allay your concerns..."

"What news do you bring?"

"News of war, my lady." His words are flat and blunt. "The forces of Dol Guldur attacked Lórien four days ago. Lord Celeborn sent us to plead for King Thranduil's aid."

My blood runs cold. "Is Lady Galadriel unable to keep them at bay?"

"Her power is not without limits. We do not know how much longer we have. Even now we may be too late."

I shut my eyes. If Lothlórien falls, there is little hope for anyone.

"These are grave tidings indeed."

"I must go to rest, Rîneth. Our journey has been arduous and without sleep. Tomorrow at first light we shall make haste. Your king has agreed to come."