"Cal-Cala-non," I stutter and place one of my trembling hands on his shoulder. "P-put me down, I can walk."

"No Clara, you cannot," He whispers urgently, but I shake my head and wriggle determinedly in his arms so he has to lower me to my feet.

"I have some unfinished business," I groan as I grip my head, and use my other arm to steady myself against the nearest wall. "Send for the guards, I want all traces of Galour's servants and family rounded up and taken to the prisons. This is my home, and I will not appear like some weakling before blatant robbers!"

"Please, mellon," Calanon begs quietly and reaches for me, but I go rigid and straight when he touches me; "Clara you have expended the remnants of your feä to save Thranduil, you cannot keep exerting yourself. I do not know how to make this any plainer...you are fading."

My hand curls into a fist against the cold stone of the safe walls of my home. The perfectly smooth and polished stone, carved to appear like the swirling and ancient branches of wise old trees. They look real, they look alive, but it is just lifeless stone - dead - a perfect façade.

Yes I know what Calanon says is the truth, my spirit has been slowly crumbling away since the night I departed it to Thranduil. It only seems to burn on because I force it to, because if I didn't my children would suffer at the hands of devils like Galour. But now, in the aftermath of this wholly unnecessary drama, I feel my strength ebb away from me and there is nothing I can do about it. I knew the risks when I attempted to draw back my mate from the point of death, and I suppose if Thranduil had of been closer, or if his feä had of returned to its full strength he could have sustained me, but it didn't play out like that.

I know what Calanon was hoping for; I know he was hoping that given enough peace and rest I would sustain myself for my children's sake. He was hoping that word of Thranduil's return would have reached us and I could have held out long enough for my feä to be reunited with his - the only way to heal it, to make me a whole thing again. But Galour's stunt has drained me further, and I know it has taken its toll but I am not dead yet! The last embers of my own light glow under the surface, and I've never been one to let go without a fight. Certainly I shan't be allowing that weasel Galour to have the satisfaction of tipping me over the edge.

I can keep going, I can push through this, and I've been through much worse than this! If Oropher could endure decades of separation from Lassiel, I can hold out a few more months.

"Calanon!" I wheeze angrily as I twist to face him; "Just get me my guards; you can worry over the state of my feä later."

My chief healer, and chosen advisor blinks thoughtfully at me for a moment, as if trying to figure out if I am in denial or not. Mercifully he doesn't attempt to argue with me, but his lips press into a thin line and his eyes betray a sense of great worry, and I know it is aimed at me. I know if he could, he would keep me under his watchful care in the Healing Halls, but that would look bad to the people. They need to know their Queen is perfectly well, and anticipating the return of their new King without doubt or fear. That is my role, and I intend to fulfil it without complaint or objection.

"Yes my lady," Calanon bows deeply and without another word, he turns and speeds quickly to the main entrance, calling loudly for the guards.

Squaring my shoulders, I breathe in deeply and attempt to hold myself tall and strong. I proudly sweep open the doors to our grand living space shared by my family and I, and gaze coolly over the expanse of room, maintaining an air of aloofness when I spy the unwelcomed guests.

There is much feminine shrieking and worried whispers, as I glide into the room and straight up to the mass of ladies who are all nestled around the well stoked fireplace. I count at least six fine ladies, all lounged about on the floors or on the settees, one is draped across Oropher's armchair and I immediately glare scornfully at her.

The mousy haired elleth blushes damson, and slides off the chair to join her friends on the floor.

I spy copious amounts of empty and half-filled wine bottles scattered lazily about them, some have even spilled and stained the rugs and cushions various shades of red. Half eaten plates of food litter the ground, as well as numerous articles of my clothing and jewellery.

My anger flares viciously, and my fists tighten painfully at my sides, also I am pretty certain my face must be glowing red with rage.

"What is the meaning of this?" A fair and almost tinkling voice to my left pulls my attention from the guilty looking ellith before me.

The voice belongs to a dark haired lady, who is actually rather small for her Sindar heritage. She is pretty, but rather plain of face with no obvious distinctive features, nothing that sets her apart from the cluster of Silvan elleth by the fire. However, one thing does catch my eye - the set of glittering white gems nestled about her throat.

My temper rolls darkly over my features, and I do not even try to conceal it because I rather enjoy the fright in Galour's wife's eyes as she begins to register her situation.

My living room is suddenly filling up with stone faced guards, who are ruthlessly rounding up the six ellith on the floor, and their irritating girlish squeaks of panic are what is alerting Galour's wife to her doom.

"This is an outrage!" She gasps as two guards restrain her arms, and she levels me with a disbelieving stare; "I have done nothing to deserve this treatment, why would you treat me so despicably my lady Clara?"

"Oh save the sweet words for someone who gives a damn Tithemes," I bark, and give a sardonic grin for added effect. "You know I used to like you Tithemes, I sort of thought Galour didn't deserve you...now I see that you both completely deserve each other! You actually disgust me, do you know that?"

"I beg your pardon my lady, but if I or my husband have done something to displease you then I am truly sorry, but the law stat-"

"Please shut up," I sigh and stifle an exasperated, but slightly deranged laugh. "Please just do not insult my intelligence any further. Everyone now knows what you and Galour tried to do to me and to my husband...the rightful heir. Stop pretending to be innocent; it is really not classy at all. In fact I find it pathetic. So let's cut to the chase, give me back my necklace and get the hell out of my house, you trashy, low grade, gold digging, tramp!"

Tithemes mouth pops open in shock, and she gives a little offended gasp. She shrugs her arm away from the guard and allows her hand to sweep her neck, and I watch as her fingers curl around the gems.

Her lip curls up into a sneer, and before either the guards or I can stop her, she rips the necklace from her neck.

The delicate chain snaps and the glittering starlit gems clatter to the stone floor, making a musical tinkling sound as they fall.

There is a moment of silence before my face contorts into rage, and it takes me all my strength to not punch her in her smug pinched up little face. I have to remind myself that expending anymore unnecessary energy on the likes of her is hardly worth it, so instead I dismissively flick my hand and toss my nose in the air;

"Take her to join her husband in the dungeons, I am sure they will have plenty to discuss over the next few months." I command in a bored tone, and enjoy the look of sheer panic that fills her eyes as she is dragged shrieking from my presence.

I stand in the suddenly eerie quiet of my King's vast halls, my familiar and beautiful home. The smell of fresh Pine and honey scented Sarcococca fills my nostrils, and reminds me of things that I really wish it wouldn't.

My chest constricts around the mangled mess of my shrivelling heart, and I swear I can feel it crack under the strain.

For a few minutes I focus on the rise and fall of my chest, calmly bringing my laboured breaths into an ordered rhythm. Once satisfied that I can trust myself not to fall apart on the spot, I force my feet to shuffle forward to the shattered mess of gems on the marble floor. Kneeling down I gently pick up each sparking jewel and cradle them close to my heart, and it is about now that I realise I am sobbing.

The more I work to squash the tears the harder they fight to push free! Angrily I bite down on my tongue and force myself not feel them, not to give them permission to fall, at least not in response to that gaggle of worthless scum. I train my gaze to focus on carefully ensuring I find all the gems and the now split chain, but it is in my searching that another pair of hands find mine pausing them briefly.

"'Tis alright Clara, I can do that," Gilron's soft voice reminds me gently, but I shake my head stubbornly.

"No, its fine," I rasp, and swallow the painful lump of a sob stuck in my dry throat. "I am fine!"

"Yes, I know you are, but let me do my job my lady," Gilron grips my wrists tightly in her long hands, and forcibly she takes the broken necklace from my weak grasp. My swollen eyes flicker upwards to meet her intense gaze, and I cannot help the confused glare I give her.

"No, this isn't your job Gilron," I mumble, and yank my hand free of hers to use my rumpled sleeve to press towards the wetness of my cheeks. "No you have done enough, don't fret over me I will send for some servants to help me. You should go home to Olban, get some rest; I've asked enough of you already."

Gilron sighs softly and shakes her head so her waves of silvery blonde hair fall free of her braid. She sits back on her knees, and carefully catches the loosening strands of hair in her fine fingers before gently securing them back in place. Once this is achieved she levels me with a serious and soulful look, a look that causes me to sit back and observe her cautiously;

"My Queen," She speaks in a voice full of reverential loyalty, devoid of any familiar friendship we might share between us; "Let me do my job...let me attend you as I have done so for your predecessor."

Numbly I nod in agreement to her request, and as I do so I sort of flop onto my hip and gaze in disorientation at the other elleth.

She called me Queen, am I that? I guess I am, but to actually hear it spoken so freely and so earnestly is entirely overwhelming.

I feel my breathing begin to creep up in agitation, but it is quickly dispelled when Gilron raises me to my feet and leads me through the rooms I share with Thranduil. Swiftly she undresses me and finds me comfortable night clothes to wear, then diligently places me in a warmed bed just in time for Calanon to arrive to carry out his assessments.

I don't protest when a questionable liquid is wafted under my nose, and I drink it without complaint. The warm tonic brings with it a sensation of floating, and suddenly everything doesn't feel so important. All my questions, all my worries, and all my desires seem to flitter away and I am filled with a great need to sleep.

The last thing I consciously remember is what I perceive as Gilron's hand stroking my hair from my face, and her gentle voice whispering healing words that only entice me into the safe embrace of my dreams. At least there I am free to feel and act as I wish - a place where I can paint as many pretty pictures for myself as I wish.

Sleep comes easily and passes me by quickly, it is not dreamless but the colourful images take no form. It is all just a kaleidoscope of colours, both warm and cold. It's nice to not have to decipher anything and just rest, but eventually I feel the pull of consciousness on the fringes of my feä and begrudgingly I allow myself to wake up.

With a heavy flutter of eyelashes scraping against cotton pillow slips, my eyes squint involuntarily to the shafts of fierce light that are none to pleasing to my throbbing head.

"Ugh!" I whinge, as I theatrically throw my forearm over my eyes. I am completely ensnared in my bed clothes, and they are much too hot - suffocatingly hot - I wrestle with the sheets until I am free and I breathe in deeply. But the room is warm.

Scowling I haul myself upright and stare in disbelief at the roaring fire place. A stabbing pain in my chest floors me for a moment and I wobble, throwing my arm out to balance myself, and I ascertain that maybe I'm not as strong as my mind thinks I am.

With a little more caution this time, I gingerly ease myself out of bed and sigh in contentment when the soles of my bare feet make contact with the cold stone floor. Carefully I rise from the bed and stagger tiredly out of the room. I don't really care what I look like, I probably look worse than a particularly frightful Banshee, but I don't know what time it is or where the children are - priorities will always be priorities.

Unfortunately I do not find Celairiel or Legolas in their beds, and that really doesn't help the intensifying pain in my chest.

Rubbing my sternum absently, I roll my eyes and consider fetching slippers and a robe in order to go on a hunt for my missing kids, but my sluggishness causes me to flop unceremoniously on the nearest armchair. I note from this position that the grand communal family rooms have been cleaned and tidied to perfection, with not even a hint of their former occupants.

Everything is in its place even Oropher's books are back in their position - stacked neatly by his favourite chair along with his strewn robe.

Rising weakly out of my chosen armchair I plod heavily up to his favoured seat and pick up the robe, as if I had intended to fold it up neatly, but instead I wrap myself in it and sink down to the floor. Puffing out my cheeks, I blow out a long sigh that slowly turns into a sob, and then another and another until I am crying pitifully.

"I miss you...Ada," I sniff painfully into the swathe of fabric that even covers the very tips of my toes. A bubble of grief crawls up my chest and explodes like an ugly growl from my lips, and all I can do is muffle it in the folds of the robe.

This insignificant piece of material that smells like him, and in some ways feels like him; rough but soft on the inside, strong and protective against the elements, something you run to in order to find solace from the harshness of the world. What will we do now without such traits, without such strength? Thranduil is strong yes, and protective, warm even if given the right opportunities, but steadfast, unchanging even in the face of great upheaval?

No, Thranduil is volatile and unstable, his reactions ruled by the whims of his nature which is wild and unfettered. He does as he wishes, and I have always loved that about him, but is that what a nation of broken people need? How is he going to cope with this, how in all of Arda am I going to rein him in and give him the anchored foundations he needs to stay focused? I am not his father; I am not wise and ancient like Oropher!

Suddenly it is as if I hear an exasperated chuckle on the air, and plainly in my mind I can envision Oropher groan out a rather wearied but loving,

'Now you understand...'

I barely contain my delirious giggle. Yes, now I think I do understand.

Blinking back tears and scrubbing my face with my hand, I rock my head back so it rests on the arm of the chair. Not only do I understand all of Oropher's anxieties and concerns over his son taking the crown, but I also sense why he felt it important that I grasped the significance of my position.

Oropher never cared about who or what I was, he never questioned the love between Thranduil and me, but he did question my ability to be what he knew Thranduil would need...what a King would need.

My mind wonders over Celebrian, the fair and almost doll like creature, so perfect and feminine. She has all the traits of a virtuous beauty, and in every way matches her mate, they suit each other so perfectly. But, there is more to her than just that. She is more than just the perfect match for Elrond; she is well breed, intelligent, immersed in the culture of leadership and politics. She wisely discerns her husband's foes from his friends, and cares for him on a more practical intuitive level. I suppose she has learnt to be manipulate and control Elrond in ways that bode well for both her and the protection of the people, although I highly doubt Elrond has a penchant for stampeding head first into danger because of a whim. I also doubt the lady Celebrian has to deal with various mood swings, and erratic leaps in behaviour - I cannot imagine Elrond being quite as lively or as highly strung as my beloved.

With images of dances around fire pits, and shameful displays of overly excessive public affection, I snort back a sob and a laugh, as I shake my head fondly. I love that proud, ego-fuelled, selfish, dramatic, over-zealous, slightly weird, blonde, jerk with all my small and comparably younger heart. But love and desire will not get this Kingdom back on its feet, and neither will it be what my husband needs in the long term.

By whatever means possible I need to be Thranduil's foundations, I can no longer be a floundering damsel that requires his care or consideration. It has been seven years, and I have stood on my own two feet and kept this Kingdom turning in his absence. Did I think that when he returned that would be the end of my struggles? I guess in a naïve way I did, but now I realize how significantly they have grown.

There will be much to do, much to change, and much to adapt. He'll need me now more than he has done so in the past. The injury, the teething years of our unexpected union, my past, his past - it all seems irrelevant now in the face of what is to come. So there is nothing more for me to do but to dig deep and bury my insecurity, throw away my nervous fretting, and accept the weight of duty on my barely adequate shoulders.

I am a Queen now, maybe not officially but that is only a formality, and with the acceptance of such a title I feel like a new page has turned in my bizarre and slightly dysfunctional life. A page that is entirely unwritten, with no indicators or nothing to help guide me forward.

I have nothing but the tattered remains of the bond with my mate, the love of my two incredible little ones, and the unbreakable hope of a nation. I must become what Oropher believed I had it in me to be, I must become the shelter for my family and my people. I must stand firm and not relent, not once, for they need me and that is more than enough to fuel my fire, and bring strength into my weary bones.

Rising from the floor, I unwind the robe from my shoulders and fold it up neatly. Placing a kiss to the fabric, I place it back on the chair and smooth it out lovingly. I take a moment to offer up a prayer of gratitude, for I have been truly blessed to be guided and loved by such a spirit as Oropher, and my only wish is that wherever he is now, he is content and at rest;

"Someday I'll see you again," I mutter to the chair, as I wrap my arms around myself to huddle against the cool breeze in the air, my earlier flush leaving me now; "I made a vow, and I intend to keep it. One day I'll bring them all back to you, one day you'll see the fruits of your labour. The House of Oropher will be celebrated across the lands...you'll see."

A tell-tale shiver runs up my spine and I automatically shrug my shoulders in response to it, a soft breeze blows past my face and strands of my hair billow out past my cheek. Furrowing my eyebrows I turn towards the breath like air, timidly catching the flyaway strands with my hand and tucking them behind my ear.

Before I can consider the sensation, and the prickly Goosebumps that decorate my skin, the ornate golden handle of the main arch doorway creaks downwards. My heart leaps into my mouth and I instinctively step backwards, vainly trying to get my lips to form a welcoming word.

"Who is there?" I ask in a rather shrill attempt at a commanding voice, for I hate to admit I am more than a little freaked out by the unexpected weighted presence in the air.

"Oh...Oh my lady I am so sorry I did not mean to startle you!"

I practically wilt with relief when Calanon stands in the threshold of the ornately carved oaken doors, his fingers clutching crumpled up paper almost a bit like how a hawk holds their prey. I let out a tired giggle at my silliness, and smile as welcoming as I can for him;

"Calanon...mellon nin...don't sneak up on me like that," I joke as I lop up to him, all the while watching the note he holds protectively in his claw like hands; "Calanon, how long have I been asleep, and where are the children? I don't even know what time it is? Is everything okay...you look like you could do with a seat."

I motion for Calanon to sit but he merely shakes his head, and follows my gaze to the paper in his hands. His breathing is a little laboured, like he has been running or is stressed about something. Suddenly I'm not so calm anymore as I take a step forward, my mind leaping to all sorts of terrible conclusions;

"Calanon...where is Legolas? Where is Celairiel? Is everything alright?" I repeat slowly and with a hint of a threat to my tone.

"The children are very well; Gilron took them to be with her family while you had some rest. I have already sent for them to be returned home." Calanon mumbles a little absently, as he straightens out the paper in his hand and then in an unexpected move shoves the paper under my nose. His usually placid sea green eyes are bright, almost glistening with tears, and are filled with some sort of awe or relief, I can't quite tell. I go to put my hand worriedly on his shoulder but he shakes it off before he speaks;

"Clara...it is Thranduil...he is alive...he is coming home. It is how you promised us."

And with that said he drops to his knees and grips my hand, pulling it to his downcast forehead.

The swift intake of breath comes from me, and I automatically lift my free hand to my lips. My head feels so light that it nearly spins right off my shoulders...Thranduil is coming home? He is safe...and coming home! He is alright, I knew he was...I knew he wouldn't give up on us. He promised he'd come home to me if he had to crawl all the way back...we promised never to say goodbye and we never will!

"Oh my lady Queen," Calanon sobs quietly, as he lifts his gaze to meet mine and I am certain I am freely crying by this stage; "You brought our King back...all will be well now...all will be well."

I barely get my nod of agreement out before he stands and wraps me up in a tight embrace, and that's when I let go. In a moment I am in a flood of ecstatic tears, mumbling out all sorts of praises and commands to tell the whole Kingdom the wonderful news. I want a feast, and a celebration for the news of our returning warriors. I want the Healing Halls ready to receive any elves that may need care, and I want attention given to the healing gardens in time for their return. I want them all to return to their haven in the forest, I want to heal all memories of war. I want the peace they deserve.

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A/N: Well that was eventful??!!!! But...yay...reunion! Who is ready for Thranduil/Clara/family feels? I know I am!

Whoa guys! Thank you so so much for all the love on the last chapter. I'm so relieved and just feeling generally very blessed.

THANK YOU...and please vote/comment/share