Fifty Years into the Reign of
King Thranduil
Of the Woodland Realm
and
Northern Greenwood:
Approx. TA 51.

A subtle aura of calm envelopes my glowing gardens. The insects hum and crawl from plant to plant; the bees busily storing honey in the natural rocks that build up the pillars that make up their hives, the ants and various crawling creatures rambling over rock and leaf in their orderly fashion - a day's work is never done. Their lives too short to stop for a moment, time is just something they never have, I never thought I would be separate from them. I always assumed my days would countdown to a final hour, I could almost laugh at the surreal twist of events. My life did countdown, and this is my immortality...what a curious curse and gift? I understand now, I am tied to the world and its ages, grieving and rejoicing in it. Feeling sorrow for my people when they are wounded and struggle to heal, celebrating and lifting them up when they overcome...and we have overcome much.

In the fifty years since Thranduil took the throne much has changed. In the aftermath of the war we had few ellyn, and what we did have were the wounded shells of haunted elves. The Kingdom was weak and shaken to its core, with an equally wounded King and, in fairness, a very naive Queen. But my ever determined, or you may call him stubborn, husband was not prepared to sit idly. He carried a tremendous burden of responsibility to his fellow warriors, and somehow managed to take his council and wrestle them out of their despair. I was in awe of his tenacity and his strength, for he was not prepared to let his people fall into desolation and ruin over a war they did not start. Within a few weeks of his crowning he had completely upturned the former council, purposefully choosing warriors and elves who had been loyal to him, and him alone, to take up positions of power. The most shocking moment came one morning he stormed into the council chambers and threw signed parchment on the table, his official orders that proclaimed Aradan his chief councillor and second in command. This immediately elevated Aradan to one of the highest positions a humble silvan elf could ever be granted. This also lifted Oliel to a high ranking lady of court, and as such she was expected to become the Queen's hand maiden...I was thrilled of course.

The next step was to secure growth and recovery, something Thranduil and I threw ourselves into together. I reached into the Kingdom to source as many young elves willing and able to learn the arts of healing, the halls were opened up and the fields and orchids were filled with wounded elves learning to become useful again. Warriors who could no longer fight become skilled farmers and fishers, bakers and carpenters. Our skills flourished and our people became ever more connected and tightly knitted in a common goal...to take back their former glory. As expected there were many happy unions, and multitudes of births, but sadly not for me. I was too busy learning how to deliver the babies than having the opportunity to make them, but my needs came secondary to the peoples...it was only fair.

Thranduil wasted little time in carving out his plan for the improvement and fortification of his realm. His priority was security and safety, he did not want to rely on the charity of our neighbours and would vehemently refuse any aid from Celeborn - though it was offered more than once. He looked further afield to searching out trade and relations, seeking to open up old channels with the Dorwinion Avarian people, which proved a healthy and prosperous relationship. The wine was a commodity, and became wonderful trade for the men and dwarves that were slowly beginning to make their way north, settling not far from our borders. Thranduil, never keen on relations with dwarf lords, tended to favour men and thus we enjoyed good relations with our mortal neighbours and woodsmen. Growth was slow at first, but Thranduil was not beyond rolling up his sleeves and throwing himself into the fray with his people. Crops multiplied, orchids grew, fishers nets teamed again, and hunters grew in skill, until our tables and larders were once again full and brimming over with the opulence of their former glory. The King's Halls became even more magical and ethereal, hidden under the cover of the forest, even more so than they had been under Oropher. Personally I believed this was due to Thranduil's strengthening spirit, because with each and every one of his small victories he grew in confidence and more settled in his abilities. As long as his people remained safe, and as long as their pride was intact, he was strong and very sure. Yes, in fifty years so much had changed...but we still do not forget the past.

In my gardens, so full of life and light, I prepare for yet another Remembrance festival. We hold the festival every year in honour of the fallen in the Great War, and in honour of all those who have given their lives in pursuit of our peace and freedom. Thranduil is usually heavily involved but this year he has been delayed by talks just beyond our borders. Dwarves had been spotted using our lands and roads, and old prejudices are not easily forgotten. Thranduil will not hear tell of any race using our roads or taking advantage of our protection without his consent...especially not dwarves aided by men. He had rode out just shy of eight weeks ago, taking our son along with him, much to my irritation. He tells me it is high time Legolas learned about the responsibilities of a young prince, and that our boy was no longer a child but a young ellon. Legolas is still my little boy, and what was supposed to be a fortnight long trip has spiralled into weeks which has turned me into a nervous wreck. I hate it enough when Thranduil is away from home and at risk, but I am outright panicking at my son's absence...he has never left me before. I really should calm down, he is after all a grown ellon now and perfectly capable of looking after himself, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it.

I sigh grumpily as I recall my missing mate, absently my fea reaches out through the bond I share with my him, and instinctively I feel his echoing call as our spirits recognise and embrace the closeness. I feel my indignation flare at being separated from him for longer than he promised. In return I sense his apologetic approach, as the fiery strength of his fea reduces to a soft and inviting flame, coaxing me to forgiveness and to abandon my irritation with him. I hate when he does that! I can never stay mad at him when he pulls the 'King duties' card on me. I relent and let him take some solace from the light of my spirit that he so enjoys, and resign myself to pouting childishly instead. Although I do not get to sulk long, as my daydreaming is interrupted by the chattering of an overly efficient Calanon. I panic slightly when I realise I have drowned out the majority of his speech with my lazy wonderings, because when I snap back to reality I find the elleth assigned to me giggling at my vacant expression.

"So I just informed them, my lady, that there would be no wood pigeon served at the feast...only the finest of venison and salmon...I mean wood pigeon? Honestly! Well, you will be pleased to know that the finer elements of the feast have been carefully selected by myself...no expenses spared...oh, yes, master Adan wanted to know what you thought of the trial menu he sent by this morning for your approval?"

"Erm..." I stall for time, as I wrack my brain for a memory involving a trial menu? I glance to the chestnut haired elleth by my side, and she smirks before casually leaning in to whisper in my ear.

"It was the paper you sketched a picture of how you wanted the lanterns to be arranged on the trees in the gardens, my lady," she tells me, as I vaguely recall my artist rant this morning. I had tore my hair out over the lack of flare put into dressing the trees for the festival, so had resorted to physically drawing out my vision...on a piece of paper...on the paper with the menu that needed to be approved...oh balderdash!

"Eh...well," I begin in my most commanding voice, "I am just not so certain about the order of the courses. Could you have master Adan take a look over it again and send me through one more final draft, I will give him an answer once I receive it."

"Oh...oh well, yes of course my Queen. Was there anything I should instruct him on?" Calanon, my advisor and expertly organised right hand elf, stares cautiously at me. I feel terribly guilty, but I cannot be expected to deal with the Kingdom, organise the festival, and attend to the finer details of the meal all by myself. I need Thranduil home, I need help...I need my daughter! Where is that little devil anyway? Probably meandering around the woods instead of being of any use to her poor frazzled mother! I swear, when I get the hold of each member of my family I am going to smack them around the ears for buggering off in the middle of this!

"No, no, just have him take a second look at the menu, maybe he can...ah...brighten it up a little," I ramble, and sigh in relief as Calanon swallows my little fibs and disappears into the sea of faces.

"Ai...Rista...mellon nin that was to close," I chuckle as I slap my hand over my brow to scrub the tension away. "It is a good thing I have your sharp eyes to assist me."

"'Tis my job ma'am," the small elleth bows her head briskly, and smiles ever so efficiently up at me. I return that warm smile, for this little elleth has had such a soft spot with Thranduil and I since I took over her care in the years after the war.

"That it is, and you do a wonderful job indeed," I reply softly as I place a hand on hers, noting the skin of her hands and arms, even her chest and neck, are still faintly scarred from the horrendous burns she received during the war. Unlike Thranduil she does not possess the power to bring about an illusion of complete recovery - owing to her weaker Avari blood - and so her recovery was much longer and devastatingly harder for the once courageous and powerful young warrior. These days she serves as one of my own guards, charged with my protection, so she spends her days under the guise as one of my ladies but keeps inconspicuously close to me at all times. I had hoped this would allow her to feel useful again, and give her some sense that her skills were still required and appreciated, for though her injuries have greatly depleted her stamina and caused her much pain, she is still deadly with a knife and keen of eye. It would be incredibly stupid of me not to make use of such fine talents.

"I am honoured by your high praise my lady," Rista grins ecstatically, because she thrives on such encouraging words. "But is there anything I can assist with, any detail I can arrange for you...I know this is strain with his majesty away?"

"Yes, it is a strain," I grumble as I waltz over to marble pillar to lean my weight though, and scan my gardens. They are hiving with elves building tables and marquees for the celebrations, there is stuff everywhere, so much stuff that I am beginning to get a headache just looking at it.

"He will be home soon, you will see, he never misses this - it is too important to him," Rista reminds me, knowing all to well that I am neurotically obsessed with the safety of my husband, and who would blame me? He does have a penchant for getting himself brutally maimed.

"You are right," I reply stiffly and straighten up from my hunched position. "He and Legolas will probably be home by noon tomorrow at the latest, so until then it is just us ladies left to hold the fort. Speaking of which, you could do me a great favour by finding out where my daughter is...she was supposed to helping with the decorating this afternoon?"

"Ah but you know our Celairiel, the woods ensnare her fascination...she will be waiting for her father to come home," Rista reminds me, and I cannot help the snort I give in retort.

"Well she can ensnare her little fascinated rear back home before sun down, or there will be no more forest trips for her," I grouch and cross my arms about my chest, "feel free to relay that to her when you find her."

"Yes my lady," Rista giggles as she bows, swiftly turning on her heels to leave but inadvertently tripping over a smaller person in her haste.

I suck in a sharp breath and stretch for the dazed little elfling that Rista literally crashes over the top of. My servant squeaks in alarm, gasping out apologies at the tiny dark haired child who has been tangled up in the tails of her ombre skirt. Hastily I drop down and free the wriggling toddler from the mass of material, giggling quietly at the mishap.

"It is quite alright Rista," I chuckle as I smooth the golden brown curls from the little girl's heart shaped face, to reveal a pair of fascinated turquoise eyes. "This just happens to by my little shadow, who should be with her Nana...Arathiel, where is your Nana?" I demand, as I dismiss Rista with a sympathetic nod.

The elfling giggles and paws her small purple tunic over her face, making me quirk an eyebrow in response. I know she can speak, she is nearly a year and quite fluent, but the little rascal likes to play games. Clearly a double dose of mischievousness from her parents.

"Now, my little brownie," I mutter as I haul her into my arms and begin to scan the crowd for a screeching elleth, because this little one is a constant disappearing act. "Where is Nana, hmm, or Aranir?"

"Bronwe, Clara, her mother name is Bronwe not Brownie," a very familiar masculine voices reminds me, and I spin in shock to find my King's chief councillor standing before me, elfling in arm, when technically he should be by the side of said King...

"Aradan!" I gasp, then turn to gape at his rather smug daughter; "You knew, didn't you?"

"Ada!" She claps delightedly and points towards her father and twin brother, Aranir. A much more biddable elfling, who is obviously much happier to cling to his once absent Adar. My eyes widen, as they begin to dart around the crowd...is Thranduil home? Why did no one alert me?

"Of course she knew, she is cunning, like her Nana," Aradan sniggers as he waltz over to rub his nose with his daughters' and once again I am reminded of his limitations. One arm, and hyperactive twin elflings...oh the irony. "I told you to walk by me Arathiel, you cannot scamper off like that, Ada only has one hand!"

"Ah, but my little brownie was just so excited to come see her auntie Clara," I say with a light laugh before blowing raspberries into her neck, adoring the sound of her babyish laughter. The sound flares my quiet yearnings, I would love this again, to cradle my baby in my arms. I want another one, desperately, but the topic is just never broached with Thranduil. He just fobs me off with excuses; it is never the right time, or he is not in the right mindset, or he feels we need to focus on the Kingdom still. One of these days he is going to run out of reasons not to, and I sincerely hope it is sooner rather than later, because I really miss this.

"Bronwe Clara...Bronwe! Ollie is going to skin you for christening our child with another one of your bizarre nicknames," Aradan groans whilst Aranir playfully bashes his Ada's head for attention, whining at the lack of attention he is receiving over his sister.

"But Brownie is so much more adorable, besides she is a brownie, I could gobble her up," i snigger and begin blowing tickles on her neck again, but the action is met with a loud shout of defiance from Aranir who is most upset with being sidelined. I laugh at his adorable scowl before nuzzling up to him and giving him a firm kiss on the cheek; " Aw, but my gorgeous Aranir, how could I forget you." My attentions are received well, and I get a delighted hug from him, which ends up in me hosting two demanding elflings around my neck at once. I honestly have no idea how Aradan and Ollie cope with this on a daily basis, one is a mammoth task on their own...but two! I think I would be fit for nothing if I had two!

"Well, you keep them for a day and tell me if there are so adorable," Aradan laughs weightlessly as he steps back to observe my predicament. "They look good on you Clara, any chance of adding to the royal line soon...preferably as soon as...these two need a playmate more capable of keeping up to their level of energy than me."

"First of all, that is none of your business my lord Aradan," I snip back and lower the twins to the ground, so they can tousle with each other at my feet instead of over my shoulders. "Secondly...you are home...why are you home? And where is my husband?"

"Relax my Queen," Aradan grins playfully and gives me a little bow in teasing. "I rode ahead with a few scouts, to announce his majesty's arrival of course. Also," he sighs and kneels down beside his two gorgeous elflings, who automatically scramble into him for a warm embrace, "I miss them to much...eight weeks was too long for me Clara."

"I understand that Aradan," I nod sympathetically in agreement, as I assist him by taking Aranir's hand so he can pin Arathiel down. "It is hard to be apart from them at any age."

"Then you will pleased to be reunited with your family," he replies with a brightness in his eyes, and I chuckle knowingly as I rest my head against his shoulder. In return he laughs and shrugs the stump of his arm; "I would hug you my old friend, but sadly I am lacking in the ability to do so."

"Hugs are not always physical, sometimes they are in an understanding and caring word," I remind him, as he leads me away towards the palace with two very joyous young elflings in tow.

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A/N: Hi everyone, thank you all for your patience. What do you think of the little time jump, eh? AND twins??? Poor Aradan XD

To be clear on their names and their meanings.
Aradan and Olliel's twins were born almost a year ago. Their son first - Aranir - and daughter - Arathiel - second, within a handful of minutes of each other. Aranir and Arathiel are names derived from their Father's 'Ara' root, meaning 'noble' and 'nir' and 'iel' being the subsequent masculine and feminine forms. It is customary but not obligatory for elven mother's to give their children 'mother names' these names are like pet names; affectionate, private, names that are usually only known among the child's close family. Ollie gave Arathiel the silvan pet name 'Bronwë' which translates to 'endurance' my little hidden back story to that being Arathiel was the smaller of the twins and had to fight a little harder in the days after her birth. However, Clara being Clara, jumped all over that name and fondly calls the child 'brownie' due to her chocolate-y curls and absolute adorable chubby cherubness!

So, what do you think?

PS.  Another update soon, probs Sunday.