So this has been...interesting to write.

I give you fair warning there are issues of a sensitive, mature nature discussed (and acted upon) in this chapter. There is one love scene, but it is entirely necessary for the plot and Thranduil's character...you'll see why in due course. With that being said if you get twitchy at those things, feel free to skip the end of the chapter, but dannnng yo missin' out. Anyhoo, it's nothing over descriptive, but you guys know how I write by now. Also NOTE there is a healing scene in this too, and if you guys get squeamish at Thranduil's injuries...well, prepare to be squeamish lol.

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Setting: A few years after Clara and Thranduil's wedding.
X~x~X~x~X

Present Day, Halls of the King
Greenwood the Great
SA.

Clara's hands trembled with nerves as she addressed the servants.  Outwardly she appeared as any new princess should; demure, confident, and beautiful (though I was entirely bias).  It was, however, the little tremor in her fingers that gave her away. Although only an expert eye would pick it up.  Otherwise, she was flawless.

The servants all listened and took heed of her weekly amendments to the general running of our home.  She listened to them as they reported on food, stock, and all the menial but essential things that a royal home requires to operate.  This was Adar's first recommendation - that Clara would gradually take over the domestic running of things. That was the duty of a Princess...or so he said.

I liked to think she had other, much more important, duties to attend too. Activities that were more enjoyable, and only involved the two of us, but Adar did insist we attempt to spend some time apart, and fully clothed. That last part was an awful shame.

The servants stream out of the common room chatting in pleasant tones amongst one another.  I slink out from behind the pillar I was skulking behind and sidestep the shocked elves.  Some scramble to curtesy, others squeak in shock, but I'm not interested.  In fact for the most part, I try to politely move them out of my way without losing patience. 

It's Oliel who spies me first, as she hangs back to share a word with Clara.  The two cut their whispering as Ollie erupts into her trademark giggling and points my direction.

"Sleep in, did we?"  She titters and waves a hand to point out my less than polished appearance.  Clara twists around and frowns, but it is a playful one, so I'm not too concerned.

"Last time I checked this was my home," I say with a pointed look.  "I am entitled to be myself here...without nosey judgements."

"Someone didn't get much sleep." Oliel continues to giggle and elbows Clara, who cringes and wrings her hands.

"Oh Ollie, stop it," she huffs and prods our mutual friend toward the exit.  "Just go to the kitchens, I'll catch up with you there, okay?"

"Fine."  She sighs and flicks her mahogany mane over her shoulder, catching it in her fingers to braid.  "I shan't be a gooseberry to your little tryst." And with that said she makes a hasty exit, shutting the doors behind her.

"You need to be somewhere," Clara mumbles, her hands still twisting in anxious circles.

"I was on my way, but you distracted me."  I step up behind her and slip my arms around her waist.  "I hate it when you are not next to me when I wake," I whisper, then duck my nose into her neck to nuzzle the skin.  This usually makes her squirm and giggle, but not this morning, much to my disappointment.

"Thranduil!" She scolds, twisting from my embrace and shoving my chest.  "You have an appointment with Calanon...you mustn't miss those...you're still healing."

"I'm fine," I chortle, reaching to snag her around the waist again.  "And Calanon knows I am a terrible timekeeper." 

Clara struggles against my grip, sighing when it proves futile.  I grin victoriously and pull her flush to me, my hand tracing the outline of her thigh through her dress.  There is no one at home this morning, mercifully even Legolas has left for a morning expedition with Tinuben.  I can't think of a better reason than this to desecrate one of Adar's dusty bookshelves.

"Please go to see Calanon," Clara mutters against my lips when I attempt to kiss her. 

"You are ruining the romantic gesture," I argue back, refusing to part our lips, and vainly trying to improve their action.

Clara allows one lacklustre kiss.  But I never let a lack of enthusiasm dissuade me.  My persistence is always rewarded, I was fairly confident of this fact, except she didn't really seem amused.  I groaned.  We weren't still arguing were we?

"You aren't going to let me kiss you?" I raise an eyebrow and she does the same.  "And, I'm not going to pin you up against that far desk, am I?" She shakes her head.  "So...I can't expose your shapely legs and take some weight off your tired feet?" I push hopefully, she bites her lip to ward off a giggle and instead glares in warning.  I swallow, then mumble, "alright...I suppose I should go put a tunic on."

"Yes, you should," Clara hisses, prodding her finger against my bare chest.

"Clara!" I balk, snatching her hand in mine.  "Are you truly still upset with me?  Because I am not apologising...you are wrong."

"Thranduil, stop," she warns, dragging herself away from me and hugging her arms.  "I'm not upset at you, but I'm upset that you just ignore this...this...problem."

"It's not a problem." I drop my hands in exasperation, resisting the urge to keep my voice below a shout.  "There is no problem, no flaw, no abnormality between us.  For Erusake, Clara, I can't keep my damn hands off you for more than a few hours!  If that doesn't scream compatible then I don't know what does."  I pause, realising my statement, then frown.  "Is...is it me? Are you saying you don't want my advances?"

"No!" She cries, one hand outstretched to me as the other clamps to her brow, tears brimming her eyes.  "I love you.  I want you, gods above, don't ever think that I don't."

"Whoa...Clara...steady." I catch her shoulders, leaning down to meet her watery gaze.  "Your train of thought has lost me.  I'm struggling to keep up with your mind again, meleth nin.  Just talk, and I'll follow you better.  Remember our promise...one of us speaks truthfully and the other listens...you aren't speaking to me Clara."

"I'm sorry."  A huge well of tears pour from her eyes, as she scrambles into my arms.  Panicked, I fold my arms tightly around her, suddenly anxious as to what I have missed.

"For what?" I whisper, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

"I-I want-wanted..." Clara drags one ugly sob after the other, each one making me less certain and more nervous.by the second.  "Y-you should be a father by now...I'm wrong...I don't work right, I'm sorry."

"I am a father," I say in a rougher voice than expected.  Taking her shoulders again I thrust her back to look at her.  "You think I bind with you because I want an elfling?  Clara, meleth nin, I want a child with you, because I love you.  If that never happens then so be it, but I will never stop loving you, and desiring you...you are my wife...we have a son.  I don't need more. I only need you."

"Thranduil!" She cries again, shaking her head as she grips my arms in her hands.  "It's not fair...we both want this child...I know you want it, and I can't give it to you.  You've given me so much, and because of what I am...a dead thing remade...I can't make life.  It's the only conclusion.  I'm wrong."

"I'm not entertaining this." I step out of her grasp and fold my arms tight against my chest. "You do not have the right to stand there and belittle our union...belittle yourself...because of something that is out of our hands."

"You're not listening to me!" Clara cries again, her eyebrows bunched so tight together that they practically meet in the middle. "You accuse me of avoiding uncomfortable things, but you're such a hypocrite. You're not even going to see Calanon, you haven't been to a Healer since we wed, you're avoiding it, don't even pretend otherwise."

"Oh, stop looking for blame Clara,"'I hiss and stalk away from her. She follows much to my irritation.

"Then if it isn't avoidance, why don't you go?" She pushes, her legs working double to keep up with my one stride. "Why do you never question this? Why do you never want to talk to me about the chinks in our bond? I wasn't born an elf, I rely on you to explain, to teach me."

"Clara!" I bellow, the echo of my voice vibrating through the forgotten corridors of our home.

She cringes away, not frightened, but no less wary. Her eyes scan me constantly, trying to understand my stance, working out if I'm being aggressive or not. Trying her best to work out her next move. How best she should calm the beast?

"There is nothing wrong with our bond," I say in a much more controlled and muted tone of voice. "Your fea, though different, is perfectly healthy and strong. There is nothing wrong with you."

"Thranduil-." She moves forward, but I step back.

"Don't presume that you are the problem," I mutter, eyes flicking downward, for I can't seem to find the courage to look her in the eye. "I'm damaged Clara, you know this meleth nin, and I know you work very hard to make sure I never feel less than any ellon should. But If anyone cannot create life in this union it is me."

"That's not fair, you can't believe that." Clara works hard to not let the tears fall, but her lip trembles involuntarily.

"Of course it's not fair," I murmur, pressing my head against hers. "It's not fair listening to you berate yourself over this. These things take time. Like you said, I'm still healing, we just need to be patient."

"Okay," she whispers, shaking her head a little to dislodge the tears, and then to my delight she smiles. "I can be patient."

"Good." I grin, clasping her face in my hand and drawing her close to kiss. "Because I'm not fighting with you over this, you can't make me."

"Spoil sport," she sniffs and angles her way into my arms, resting her head on my chest. "But you still need to go to the Healers...you've been exhausted these past weeks...your expending too much."

"Ai...alright I'll go!" I groan and push her away. She gives me a triumphant smile and I return a disgusted grimace in response. "But it's your fault," I smirk as she tilts her head. "How am I supposed to rest with you lying beside me all innocently alluring, batting your eyelashes, and offering seductive remarks."

"Seductive remarks?" Clara balks and I grin wickedly.

"Yes, like; is this dress too tight? Or, I'm just so cold, can you warm me up?" Clara blushes and smacks my chest, scowling playfully as she does. "You're a tease and you know it."

"Not intentionally." She defends crossing her arms and hugging them against her chest. "You just can't keep your hands to yourself, or your mind off you-."

I kiss her forcibly, cutting off whatever vulgar, but entirely correct, comment she was going to make. She sniggers against my lips then loops her arms around my neck. I wrap my arms around her waist and squeeze her against me, lifting her off the ground. She squeaks in shock and wriggles in mid air.

"See...we're compatible," I whisper against her lips. "We fit very well."

"Okay!" She cries as I set her back on the ground. "I believe you...but I really ought to go...and you have somewhere to be."

"Mmm, or we could stay here," I suggest, my fingers trialling down the length of her waist and over the curve of her hips.

"Nice try," Clara mutters and grabs my wrists, shoving my hands back to my sides. "I'm not going to be the blame of your spiked heart rate."

"Too late," I reply with a shrug and she tuts, shaking her head slowly from side to side. "May as well carry on, the damage is done."

"Only you could manipulate a brewing argument back to the bedroom," Clara sighs, but her eyes glitter and I internally congratulate myself on turning this situation around. "Oh wipe that smile off your face," she continues, walking away from me, purposefully swaying her hips. "Go to the healers Thranduil!" She orders, but I'm not really listening, I'm far too hypnotised by those tempting curves.

Before I can respond, or demand her presence, she exits the room with an airy laugh. I'm left alone...and frustrated...the little vixen. Well, it's not the worst scenario. I'll have all day to work up an appetite and tonight she'll pay, or benefit I suppose.

Heaving a sigh, I rake a hand through my hair, considering how much more happier she'll be if I visit the Healers. She always rewards good behaviour. In that respect I'm easily influenced.

Danmit...she wins this round.

xXx

Sitting in naught but a poorly fitting robe is not the highlight of my day. In fact, it is because of this precise reason that I don't make a habit of frequenting Calanon's clinic.

A diligent, apprentice healer scurries around setting out little glass bottles with his nose buried in a thick book which I assume as notes pertaining to my long recovery. He doesn't meet my gaze as he offers me a ridiculously small sheet to maintain my modesty. I know the drill by now; lie down on the plinth, expose my injured side, and grit my teeth through the whole affair.

I was very insistent that Clara not be involved in any of this. I feel weak and vulnerable as it is. My young wife does enough, and gives enough, of herself within our union and our bond. Even after a few years together I still feel too insecure to let her see me like this, to let anyone see me like this.

"Good morning your highness," Calanon chimes as he breezes into the room, pausing to offer me a warm smile. I respond with a hardened grimace. "How have you been? You've been avoiding our bi-annual meetings? Is it the cold hands? No one likes my cold hands."

"I've been busy," I answer in a flat, unimpressed voice. "The temperature of your hands is irrelevant."

"Well, that's a relief." Calanon chortles and begins rolling up his sleeves as he approaches my left side.  He puts a broad palm on my forehead and gently shoves me back against the bed. "Relax my lord, as much as you loath our meetings, they are actually meant for your wellbeing."

"Lying half naked with a cloth covering my dignity is hardly conducive to my wellbeing," I seethe through gritted teeth.

"If it helps, you are not at all my type," Calanon winks and I scowl. "A body is a body, Thranduil, I'm afraid I've become detached from the awkwardness others feel. Now, let's start relaxing and see if you can revoke the enchantment with a little less trauma this time, hm?"

I set my jaw in an awkward clench and nod, blowing out a nervous exhale as I do. Calanon gives me a sympathetic smile and braces my shoulder and pelvis. He nods to the apprentice to stabilise my feet, for it's better if I don't thrash about.

"When your ready," Calanon softly reminds me and I shut my eyes...I hate this.

The glamour is a wonderful, numbing shield. While in place it dampens the pain, giving me a false sensation of physical reality, my senses dull and blocked on my left side, filtering only enough information to my physical self as my body can tolerate. If I never had such mastery over my feä I'd would never have walked again without a cane, nor would I have been able to see or enjoy as much sensation as I do. It's not the same as being fully complete. It always feels like one half of my body is covered in some kind of thin, faux fabric, making everything feel not quite real, but it's better than the alternative...phenomenally better.

Revoking it however, is like ripping back that thin protective fabric with excruciating slowness. Exposing my damaged, twisted, monstrous self to the elements. In the early days it was easier, the nerves hadn't healed so much, but now - good Valar - now it's a pummelling assault on my unprepared senses.

The cool air feels like painful needles on my sensitive skin. I twitch and muffle out a few curses under my breath. The air circulates my windpipe, and suddenly it hurts to breathe, the sensation not unlike flames spreading out through my left lung and roasting my chest.

I convulse then, making Calanon strain his weight against me. My toes curl and I attempt to draw my knees to my chest, but hands like burning shackles, hold me down, and with good intention too, for the exposed muscle in my lower limbs and torso shriek with agonising protest.

I cry out then, my head lifting straight off the bed, my features contorted in an animalistic snarl. Calanon's hand presses against my head back, and I hear his voice chant through the roaring in my ears. I reach for those words, holding onto them, absorbing their calming energy and using them to countdown to the end of this torture.

After a few minutes, I slump back on the plinth, gasping in exhaustion. Calanon says something but I can barely hear him let alone answer him. I give a hoarse groan, swallowing the parched dryness from my scalded throat, and let my head drop to the right as I expose the horrific scars. Sweat drips down the right side of my nose, pooling on the curve of my lip and dropping onto the bed. The initial exhaustion will fade, but for the meantime I just don't want to move, but I know they'll make me.

Heaving a feral grunt, I force command over my right side and drag myself into a sitting position. Then, with less coordination than I would like, I toss one leg and then the other over the side of the plinth.  Glancing down, though one eye is weaker than the other, I pensively examine my feet. The toes of my right foot rest on the stone floor, the flawless skin, and perfectly carved muscles are the picture health. But the left foot, well, it's a shattered mess of blotchy, pock-marked skin, and slithers of exposed muscle. The toes curl awkwardly, not touching the floor, and none have a nail. The sight makes my stomach tighten. It is disgusting.

"Well done," Calanon enthuses, "that was infinitely more composed." I nod, not trusting my voice, as sweat continues to pour down my back. Calanon lifts my right hand and examines my pulse, then adds, "It will take decades to master this Thranduil, but I promise it will get less painful each time, and the more you expose your body to the elements the less of a shock it will feel."

I nod again, resisting the urge to punch him. It will never get any easier because the memories will never fade. The heat of the flames is scorched onto my skin forever. This enchantment wasn't just a physical mask it was a bolstering tool. A crutch against the crippling trauma. Every time I expose myself like this I go back to that place. It is not a healthy mindset to live in. The anger, the fear, it threatens to consume and it takes all my strength to restrain it.

Calanon checks the usual things; range of movement, skin condition, and basic vitals. He only speaks to tell his apprentice what to record. I don't listen, or at least I'm far too focused on not allowing my mind to travel to unwanted places to bother. For the most part of what I do hear, it would appear everything's fine, or at least as fine as a completely trashed half-body can be.

After a few minutes Calanon orders me to lie down again, then roll onto my right side. I do so as he carefully arranges the blanket and orders his apprentice to leave. Tucking my chin into the crook of my folded elbow, I rest my head on my bicep and close my eyes. This next part is essential but invasive. It's been so long since I last visited Calanon that I reckon I'll be in knots from head to toe.

"You can start evoking the enchantment again, if that would feel more comfortable," Calanon says as he pops the cork on a bottle and mixes it with something in a bowl. "You are far too tight on this side Thranduil, the adhering scar tissue is shortening the tendons, and putting yourself through vigorous training without regularly visiting me is counterproductive."

I sigh and give a single nod. It's true, I feel tight and less supple on my left side. It's harder to be as flexible as I used to be, and I'm finding it exhausting to keep up with the other warriors, but Eru dammit I'm still better than most of them!

Calanon stretches my arm above his head and rests it against his shoulder, pulling it back into an elongated pose. I cringe into my elbow, but Calanon waits until the glamour has settled back in place before he starts the real work. 

He massages the scars around the major joints using the strange but not unpleasant smelling oils. Every so often he'll stretch my arm, forcing it into unnatural angles, and measuring the flexibility he can gain with his work.  It's tough and it's painful, but I can't deny the relief I feel when the tension is worked out. Clara is right, I should come here more often, it's useful.

Once finished with my arm he turns attention to my hand, and then moves to my leg. The lower limb is fine but when he starts manipulating my hip and pelvis, I want to call it quits. This is when I remember how uncomfortable and intrusive this healing malarkey can be. I grumble and finch more, trying vainly to maintain what's left of my dignity.

"Thranduil, I've been caring for you through this whole process," Calanon half chuckles at my fussing. "Who do you think attended to you bodily functions when you couldn't do it yourself, hmm?"

"Can you try and not remind me," I hiss, clutching at the blanket, as he puts pressure on my side to roll me flat. I glance up at him then and cringe. He is considering the scar that runs down my abdomen and curves around my groin. I'd prefer, very much, if he left that one well enough alone. "Ai...Calanon? Leave it...please?"

"Your Adar mentioned you tended to limp a little more." Calanon gestured to the awful scar and I swallow a difficult lump, inwardly thinking how I might get Adar back for his passing comment.

"Just when I'm fatigued," I mutter, resting weight on my elbow to sit up a little and try desperately to plead with him. "Honestly, its more to do with my knee...you know I fell out of a lot of trees as an elfling...probably just a lifetime of abuse."

"Thranduil, it's your hip,"'Calanon retorts with an unimpressed expression. "Or more exactly, your groin, the muscles are very tight here. That scar is beastly, it's a miracle the injuries didn't hit the femoral artery, you wouldn't be here if they did."

He places a hand on my right hip, and loops his other around my helpfully cocked left knee. Stabilising the good side he stretches my knee out, opening up the pelvis, and ashamedly pulling a violent whine from my throat.

"Ooh, yes that's a tight spot,"'Calanon mutters and pauses for a moment to look me in the eye. "No, your highness, not your knee."

I chew the inside of my cheek and stubbornly stare at the ceiling. Twisting my fingers together, I attempt to curtail any show of discomfort, but I know my face is flushed and sweat prickles at my brow.

I hate healers.

"Alright, I have a suggestion," Calanon remarks, as he lets my knee drop more comfortably. "Since you've been more than accommodating to my requests today, and I've been pretty tough on you, how about I let Clara deal with this one, hm?"

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead and I open my mouth to remind him of my express orders on that subject. Calanon holds out a peaceful hand and makes a shushing gesture. I relent, but only because he's a hairs breadth from one very delicate region.

"Thranduil, would you rather I work at this rather private area, or your wife?"

He has a point...a very good point.

"What would she need to do?" I squirm visibly at the thought of having to bare my scars to her.

"Just this, nothing more than what we have been doing." Calanon motions to the scar. "Keeping the muscles free, stopping the scar tissue from adhering too tight, and hopefully giving you a bit of relief. Honestly, you'll notice a huge improvement in your flexibility if you keep this up."

"Ugh...fine," I groan and slump back on the plinth. "Did Clara put you up to this?"

"She may have expressed that you might be more comfortable if she handled the more sensitive areas," Calanon replies with a soft grin. "And frankly I'm willing to try anything that keeps you in regular attendance with us. You are your own worst enemy Thranduil."

"Tell me something I don't know," I snort and roll my eyes. "So is that it? Are we done here? Can I go?"

"Mmm, not quite," Calanon leans away from the plinth, an unhelpful glint in his eye. "I've been prompted to ask you a few questions of a delicate nature."

"By who?" I snap as I shuffle into a seated position and shove my arms back into the robe. "If you say my Adar I swear to the Valar I'm staging coupe."

"No one per-say has prompted me," Calanon tells me as he leans against his apothecary table and smiles. "Clara was speaking with me, and it's not in my nature to break confidence with my patients, but she has give me permission to do so on this occasion."

"She's told you that we are trying to conceive," I sigh, my shoulders slumping. I hadn't realised how worried she must've been to seek the advice of healers.

"She has admitted you both have tried for some time with no results," Calanon replies, folding his hands in front of him, his expression turning serious. "I've examined Clara at her request; she is young and healthy, there is no reason why she shouldn't be able to bear an heir for you."

"So..." I pause, rubbing my neck and feeling the horrible, gut twisting truth, take root. "It's me, isn't it?"

"There are ways to check," Calanon offers, forcing me to meet his gaze. "But I'm not wholly convinced you have a physical issue. You are intact, and I presume your ability to preform is normal? No problems or concerns that you maybe aren't sharing with Clara?"

"No!" My voice too shrill as I cringe into myself, twisting the robe tighter about my middle. "I mean I'm doing what I need to be doing...I think...everything works."

"Relax," Calanon says, tapping a palm to my exposed knee. "It's not a trick question...that's good...actually that's very encouraging."

"How?" I demand, staring intently at a discoloured brick on the far wall.

"Can I offer you my theory?"

Well at least he has the decency to ask nicely. I nod in agreement and gesture for him to continue.

"I'm going to assume that after a decade of separation from an unsuccessful union has left you with some issues." Calanon raises his eyebrow and I respond by chewing my lip and dropping my gaze to the floor. "Couple that with the trauma of injuries that have literally changed your life, then Thranduil, forgive me, but you feä is not opening up as it would in a normal union."

I snap my head up then, meeting his calm, non-judgemental gaze, and feeling very exposed because of it.

"You don't trust Clara to feel all of you yet," Calanon continues, circling the room. "You are anxious, insecure, and with good reason, your last wife forced you to shatter and revoke a union bond. And as much as I know you love Clara, you're withholding a little part of yourself, maybe unconsciously. But, if you want to conceive an elfling, well I'm afraid that takes all of you Thranduil, not just your physical self."

"But it wasn't this complicated with my son," I murmur, hands twisting in anxiety on my lap. Would he tell me that Clara and I weren't compatible, because I couldn't believe that."

"You gave all of yourself to conceive your son," Calanon answers, pausing to flick through his open book of notes. "You would have, you were younger, naive, everything was new and intense. Now you know better, the world is darker, and you don't trust things not to disappear."

I nod, more to myself, because his logic is reasonable. I know that I'm careful with Clara. I suppose I originally painted my fears as being concerned of letting her feel my broken feä too deeply, or worried that the wildness in my spirit would hurt her. When truthfully, all along, I've been terrified of losing her. Holding apart of myself back so it wouldn't hurt so much when it was all over. That it wouldn't shatter all of me if she rejected those less than appealing parts of myself. It's a foolish fear. I'd die without her. I honestly don't why I'm being so careful, other than just forced habit. Well I think it's time I put an end to these bad habits.

"Thank you for your counsel Calanon," I say as I stand up, and reach for my clothes. "I needed to hear that."

"I'm honoured to have helped." He bows his head, and stretches out a basket with a few bottles inside. "You really do need to relax my lord, you're doing wonderfully, achieving so much more than any of us could have hoped for you. And I'm of the firm belief Clara plays a big part in your success. Don't waste your joy on needless worry."

"Yes, I believe you're right." I bob my head and accept the basket. "And I promise to heed your advice."

"And come visit me more often?"

"Yes...well lets not get ahead of ourselves," I smirk and head for the door, collecting my clothes as I go. "You do have awfully cold hands."

xXx

Home was quiet, unnervingly so. I'd spent the remainder of the day catching up on politics., the least favourite of my hobbies, but Calanon's handiwork had left me sore and weary. I took advantage of the quiet to stew over my thoughts in a hot bath, then decided to draw on my Adar's sympathies, and take a long overdue nap. He'd be delighted at my prerogative to self care.

It was early evening when I discovered I was still alone. Meandering the length of the hallway from my  chambers, I found one lonely servant sweeping the fireplace.

"Is something wrong?" I asked the suddenly bothered elf, as she stumbled to her feet and beamed scarlet. "Did I miss an evacuation? Where is everyone?"

"Th-they, um..." the elleth kept ducking her head like a neurotic pigeon, it was irritating. "I...um...think...they...um..."

"Oh Valar, you're new aren't you?" I yawn, slapping my bare feet across the cold floor toward an armchair, and collapsing in it. "Let me guess, palace kitchen staff? This is a promotion to personal staff, and you've probably never laid eyes on me in your whole, comparably short, existence, am I right?"

The elleth blushes a darker hue and nods once, vigorously rubbing the soot from her fingers. I smirk, honestly I could read them like books. She was probably only a few hundred years old, never lived a day away from her family in her life, and was as homegrown as any Silvan could be. I don't know where Oliel picks them up.

"I'm Thranduil, by the way, just in case there was cause for confusion." My smirk widens as she tries very hard not look at me and my dishevelled appearance. "There's another blonde ellon that parades about my home, he likes to tell the new staff he's me, in an attempt to get special treatment. That's Aradan, you will know the difference...I'm vastly better looking." The elleth's eyes pop out of her skull and I can't help my hearty laughter. "Valar, you new bloods are so sheltered, my wife will love you, what's your name?"

"Elbes, sire." She attempts a decent curtsy, I'm impressed.

"Well, you are very welcome Lady Elbes." I clap the arms of my chair and lean forward to stand. "My apologies for startling you, I'm afraid this isn't like the kitchens, my family aren't quite as predictable as they appear."

"No harm done, your highness," she says timidly and bobs her head again. "I...um...think I overheard Lady Oliel mentioning about a gathering in the woods this evening. The King wasn't opposed to the idea of your wife attending, and I believe that it was the Princess' intention to allow you some peace to rest. The King was delighted at the prospect of spending some time with his grandson, I think they went to the gardens, and will be in the libraries reading for tonight."

"Little Vixen goes to a gathering without me." I make an unnecessary show of being betrayed.

Elbes practically turns grey and I quickly laugh to let her know I'm joking.  Eru above, do none of these servants think I'm capable of a sense of humour?

"I'm jesting," I tell her as I make to exit the room. "Sometimes I do that...I know it's shocking...a royal failing at being funny? What is the monarchy coming too?" Elbes just stares after me, mouth agape, and I roll my eyes. "Thank you Lady Elbes, your eavesdropping was invaluable, keep that skill up and the politicians will be crawling over themselves for your skills."

Not even the sniff of a giggle, nothing. I'm partially offended. I should let Clara loose on that elleth. A few weeks in her company and Elbes will have no choice but to lighten up. I should suggest it to her, but she has enough concerns and I don't want to add to them. At least not tonight, or really any night henceforth, for I've been careless and selfish in this union.

Clara deserves more, or at least better, and I can do so much better. I just hope my definition of better doesn't irritate her the way it did Bregeth. I'm hopeful that it won't, but I fully admit to being timid about showing her. No one but my mother understood the depths of my abilities, yes Adar knew, but she empathised and grasped me, making it perfectly okay for me to be myself. Without her I restrain myself, being careful, not being too wild or dangerously un-elven. But, in the woods, at the gatherings, I can almost be a little freer, especially if no one knows me.

It's not the first time I've snuck in and out of a party, and it won't be the last.

I slip into lighter garb; a pair of suede trousers and dark tunic that fits like a second skin. Twisting my hair back, I fix one of the Avari face guards in place. It's a fairly old form of protective armoury made of sturdy leather, mostly used by warriors or hunters to keep the shine from their eyes and skin. It's an effective means to stay camouflaged when using the terrain of the forest to fight in. A lot of the guards still wear them, but they are mainly just for decoration and intimidation purposes. For me, they are a great way to attend a gathering without sticking out as royalty.

Fastening a weather worn cloak about my shoulders, I pull up the hood and leave my home via the servant passageways. It doesn't take me long to find the gathering, less than half a league from the caves. The smell of fire, earth, pine, and sweat leaves an easy trail to follow.

I slide through the crushed bodies without so much as a second glance. The drink is free flowing and the music loud. Laughter and passion meld into one as elves dance or press closer to one another, risking propriety over instinct. The freedom of living so close to the edge of ones true nature is intense. If I wasn't expected to wear a crown, or speak in many tongues, or stand before the ruling powers of this world then this is exactly how I'd choose to live; in the moment, attached to the heartbeat of the forest, as close to creation as I could get.

A cascade of blonde curls and laughter so lilted and musical shifts my attention. I go from simply walking to prowling. Something in my core sparks a fire of recognition and intense desire. In the eyes of the wild a mated bond is irrevocable and constant. Now that Clara is within my reach I don't feel inclined to share her attentions. In fact, I really only want one thing now, and that need is growing to insatiable levels.

Patience is a virtue, and a predators skill. I wait until Clara excuses herself from the group of ellith before I move. It's.not right to pounce on her in full view of everyone, after all she is still a Princess, and I am still my Adar's heir. So I wait and I watch and I follow.

Clara makes her way to a quiet table, attempting to find something to drink, but the kegs have run dry...perfect.

She innocently walks to the undisturbed stack of dwindling wine barrels. I circle behind them, leaning close, her scent strong and familiar to my more heightened senses.

The energy of the forest pulses in my veins, it's yearning voice in my ear.

Open the bond...deepen the spirit...feel alive.

I groan, digging my fingers into the wood of the barrel feeling it crack. I'm not an animal and neither is she, but my drive seems very simple now. Her feä wants the same, I feel it through our bond like a resounding shout.

Unable to restrain myself a moment longer, I twist around the barrels and snatch Clara's arm, dragging her back against the nearest tree trunk with a thud. She lets out a startled gasp, my movements so quick that she didn't have the chance to shout in alarm. Yet, part of me registers that she knows it's me. She felt my approach. I know that to be true from the way her eyes stare wide and glittering into mine. No hint of fear or distrust clouds them. It's laughable to think we couldn't be compatible. There is nothing more true than us in this moment.

Her fingers reach for my face and she carefully pushes back the hood of the cloak. My breathing hitches and I press closer to her still. She unfastens the leather guard and pulls it up and away from my face. Marked relief colours her features as her fingernails rake over my cheeks and pull at my lower lip.

"I couldn't wait-."

She cuts me off with a feverish kiss. My coherent thoughts scatter as she runs her hands through my hair, finding my neck and drawing me closer. My free hand slides down her curves, gathering the fabric of dress at her hip until I expose skin. I push my knee between hers, parting a width just enough for me to draw my fingers up the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Clara whines, muffling the sound in the crook of my neck, but I don't halt my exploration. Fortunately, neither does she as her hands move down my chest and settle on the waistband of my too tight trousers. Her nimble fingers undo the ties and slip between the fabric.

It's my turn to groan and shudder now as we kiss deeply and forcefully to squash our voices. The thrill of being so close to being caught is electrifying, but the reality is not worth the consequence, even Clara knows that. She pauses between a particularly deep and uncoordinated kiss to breathe and look over her shoulder. She bites down hard on her full bottom lip and the action has me in knots, my patience worn away to nothing.

"Thranduil, maybe we should go home,"'she whispers against my ear, the vibration of her voice through our tangled bodies is wonderful. "This is dangerous..."

"No, not yet," I sigh and kiss her again. "I've something to show you."

She giggles nervously then, raising a questioning eyebrow as I tangle my fingers with hers and pull her away from the tree and into the forest. With a few paces into the hidden depths of the woods I tug her close and pick up the speed until we run free and unhindered.

I lead her to a fern covered bank deep in the forest overgrowth. She crashes against my torso as we halt in my favoured spot, far enough from company but close enough to the heartbeat of the forest.

Pulling her spine flush against my front, I tilt her head and explose her tempting long neck. There is no pause between my trail of kisses along that beautiful stretch of skim. I don't even allow her the moment to catch her breath as I rip open the side ties of her dress and slip my all too eager hands inside. The feel of her skin prickling under the heat of my palms is electrifying. Her back arches, her moans scandalous, as her hands stretch back to grab fistfuls of my hair or tunic.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" Clara squirms in my arms. Her deliriously happy sighs indicating she'd be more than satisfied if this was it.

"No." I shake my head and war between the need to explain myself and the need to just show.

"Then, what?" She twists to face me, eyes dark, biting her bottom lip.

"You want to find the chinks in our bond," I murmur into her ear, carefully knotting her hair into my fist and drawing her head back.  "You want me to show you what I am, truly?" She nods, not even a hint of fear, just genuine curiosity.

"Show me," she breathes and wrestles closer to me, lips straining to touch mine.

A slow smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, but it's replaced by the shattering pulse of the wild in my veins. The forest's alluring heartbeat intensifying, the deep, ancient magic of our world vibrating through the roots of the trees and tangling with my feä. My mind shifts then, losing focus on sensibility and reverting purely to instinct.

I only see my mate in that moment, and feel her beautiful feä calling mine, the same desire mingled in that familiar melody. It's the drive to create life, because that is the purpose of instinct. It's love in it's most simplistic, practical form, but then the nature of the wild is only ever purely practical.

Lunging forward, a low noise not unlike a growl rumbles from my somewhere deep in my chest. I pick Clara up by the waist, she gives a sharp, shocked gasp but uses the movement to wrap her legs around my hips. The friction between us only serves to treble the heat and the desire coursing through my blood. It's almost unbearable...almost dangerous...but utterly freeing.

With care and a great deal of focus, I lock one arm around Clara's torso and use the other to lower us to the earth. Her lips never leave mine, so much so that it's difficult to breathe, but that isn't unwelcome, still a moments break wouldn't hurt.

I work my eager lips down her neck, her shoulder, the exposed 'V' of skin that runs to the dip of her chest. Her frantic breaths and quiet mutterings my greatest encouragement. I trail kisses from her torso to the crease of her thigh, letting my hands roam over the light fabric acting as the only barrier between us.

Leaning back for a moment, gaze fixated on the skin of her calf, I grip the hem between two fists and pull. The satisfying rip the material makes sends an electrifying shiver up my spine as the coil in the pit of my stomach snags tighter. I slowly rake my gaze over Clara's trembling, but beautiful form, before meeting her darkened gaze. Her eyes expressing a command so powerful it's crippling.

In response I yank off my tunic and push off my trousers, throwing them out of sight. I grip her ankle and return to feverishly kiss her fully exposed leg all the way to her hip. She groans and enthuses with every graze of my teeth or flick of my tongue. It's such a pleasurable song that I almost forget my intention.

Stilling myself, I inhale deeply and hover over Clara. Slipping my arm underneath her waist I force her against my body, wrapping her legs around me, before shifting into a seated position. Clara gives a muffled cry against my shoulder as I guide her down, joining with her, becoming one body.

My skin flushes hot and I resist the urge to forget restraint. I want her to feel this, to truly share my feä, and become a completed whole thing. But, for a second I hesitate.

What if it frightens her? What if I'm made wrong? What if she gets hurt? Will she understand I'm still me?

The forest's energy swirls within mine like a second soul. It takes away pain and worry, replacing it with much more simplistic emotions. I'll never be able to dampen this part of me forever. One day she'll feel this and I'd rather it was in passion than fury.

I have to trust my instincts.

She is my true mate...I cannot question it now...the wild doesn't permit me such logic.

For a few brief moments the pleasure of the physical wins out as she and I enjoy finding a gentle, deepening rhythm in this interesting position. Eventually though, I catch her face in one of my hands, stilling her lavish kisses and forcing us to look at each other, properly.

It's easier now, to allow her feä to mingle with mine, so that it fills up the broken cracks with its wonderful, bright essence. Since our union we've been strengthening this bond, exploring each other more carefully, but there are parts of me I keep hidden, but not tonight.  Tonight I let the strong, wilful, overpowering essence of the wild in me flow directly to her.

I watch as her eyes widen and her hands clamp to my shoulders to stabilise her.  She gives a breathless cry of something I construe as ecstasy, her head thrown back as her spirit absorbs all of the energy. The blue in her eyes intensifies and her light grows ever more blinding...or least it feels that way to me.

"I love you," I force out the words through shaky uncontrolled breaths. "Now you have me...all of me."

Clara's mouth crashes against mine, her fingers twisting through my hair, the new strength within her marginally overpowering mine. Or, perhaps, I wanted her too.

My back hits the earth and I bite off a too loud moan as Clara takes the lead. Her enthusiasm draws the last of my strength from my body and quite literally finishes me off. But, that final release was the most satisfying - most clarifying.

In the hazy aftermath I felt like a shameful weight had been lifted from my weary spirit. Clara shifts on top of me, I coil my arm around her back and draw her onto her side, so that we can  lie pressed into each other. I wasn't ready to let go of this closeness.

"I feel...everything," Clara whispers as she traces the skin under my eyes. "The life of the forest, the roots of the tress tangling beneath us, the breath of every living thing...it's incredible...Thranduil, why do you hide this from me?"

I smile and give my shoulders a tired shrug.

"Shane, mistrust," I murmur, sighing contentedly at her lingering touch. "I never wanted to share this part of me, or I suppose, I believed no one could accept it, no one would desire it."

"You foolish elf," she chuckles and snuggles closer to me to steal a chaste kiss. "Don't you know me by now, don't you know this is exactly what I desire."

"Now I know," I say with a barely audible voice as my head slumps against her shoulder.

"You're exhausted," Clara remarks, a hint of worry lacing her tone. "This was too much, you shoul-."

"Shhh, Clara," I sigh, happily listening to her heart beat in time with the forests, and beat in tandem with mine. "Don't fret, just rest with me, stay in this moment."

Clara reluctantly nestles against my chest, her arms draping over my torso, and her legs still tangled with mine. I can't help my joyous smile as the world becomes hazy again. I peacefully enter my dreams, lulled to sleep by the comforting sounds of the forest and mesmerised by the energy swirling in our bond.

For a fleeting second I sense a change in the melody of our entwined feä. Something alters about it, something curious, but as quick as I catch the difference it disappears. I don't dwell on it for it was probably just a poetic notion of my own design. Still, there is no denying how this has altered our bond. For the first time in such a very long time I feel complete.