*Eighteen Months Later*
Halls of the King
Greenwood the Great

"Duck!"

Whooosh

"Ouch...Legolas...wait-"

Clang!

"Too slow..."

Crrrassshhh!

"Ada is going to kill you!"

I quirk my eyebrow from my hunched over, breathless, barely-able-to-stand, position in the far end of what was once the dining room, whilst Legolas sheepishly tucks his knife back into its sheath and backs away from the scene of the crime.

"Well..." I gasp in sweet air to try and relieve my burning lungs, "if..." I inhale deeply again, "it was that...important...he should have had it...locked up...like he does the rest of his...precious treasures...good gods...I can't breathe..."

"Did you think combat was easy, Nana?" Legolas smirks, as he extends his hand to help me over the deceased chandelier.

"No...but..." I whine and stretch my arms behind my head, straightening up my spine and hoping it will somehow open my diaphragm some, or whatever it is supposed to do, so I can catch my breath.

"But?" Legolas continues to tease as he tosses me a towel, and mercifully pours me a drink. I stagger rather ungracefully towards him, fingers eager to get a grip of that cup. He chuckles at the pained expression I give him over the brim of the beaker as I literally gulp down the water, coupled with my undignified wheezing - I am truly the most unfit warrior in the history of elves.

He places his hand on his hip and gives me a serious look; "Nana, it is perfectly okay not to be a warrior, not all of us are blessed with the skill, maybe you should accept that you are far more suited to the arts than this painful business?"

"What are you trying to say exactly? That I am soft as a sponge?" I grumble, and wince at the twinge in my hip as I try to lean on the table but think better of it...dammit, I think I pulled something? Ugh, I will never hear the end of this now.

"And about as uncoordinated as one too," he snickers and ducks as I toss my towel at him and limp off to inspect the shattered chandelier.

Yip, I probably should not have used it as leverage to leap over my son's head. I groan, and facepalm myself - Naneth's and Queen's should not be combat training in their dining hall! I suppose there isn't the slightest chance that the entire Kingdom did not hear that?

There is the sound of footsteps clattering down the hallway and the door being swung open, followed by a mixture of shocked and amazed gasps, and some more mild snickering from Legolas.

Well, that clears that up then...everyone did hear it!

"Nana?" Celairiel practically trips over her skirts, her eyes wide as she takes in the devastation of what was once the main dining room. "Oh, Ada is really going to notice that...can we tell him it just fell?"

"Nana! Nana! Nana!" Ferion skips excitedly from behind his sister, tittering and clutching a pile of loose papers; "I made these...and...can I play?"

"No! No playing near the glass," I warn and scuttle over to stop him ploughing straight through the shattered remains. He wraps his arms around my waist and grins up and me, shoving his creations upwards - obviously these are far more important than the broken light structure.

"Oh they are just beautiful ion nin," I croon, because they are, he is such a little artist and secretly I am a little smug that at least one of our children inherited my creative gene. I attempt to kneel down to his height to inspect them further, but my back and hip spasm again and I launch back to my feet, hopping around like an angry kangaroo.

"Really Legolas?" Celairiel asks, a challenging smirk playing on her lips; "giving a Queen combat lessons in the dining room? I thought you had more sense? Next time try the libraries...there is more to break."

"You are just jealous she did not ask you," Legolas retaliates almost instantly earning him a seething glare, he grins wickedly, "Oooh, did I hit a nerve tree whisperer?"

"I don't need weapons to render you powerless brother," she snipes threateningly and even Ferion rolls his eyes.

"Yes, but weapons get the job finished a lot quicker," Legolas sniggers as he sidles past his younger sister, winking patronisingly, and for a moment I am convinced that she is going to go for his throat so I intervene.

"Enough!" I reprimand them sharply and both of them flinch, like they did as elflings, "No fighting in the house...new rules."

"Well, you just broke that one!" Celairiel accuses and strides after me, determined to prove her point - I wonder who she took that trait after?

"I have no idea what you are talking about love, that chandelier just fell from the ceiling," I lie smoothly as I hold out my arms and allow Ferion to scramble up into them. I tilt my head over my shoulder and add breezily; "honestly I have been pestering your Adar to have it fixed for months now, it was always threatening to go...just lucky no one was in the room when it happened...isn't that right Legolas?"

"Works for me," he shrugs jovially and saunters to the door, "I will go let the servants know of the accident, and ensure somebody logs it as a maintenance issue...I mean the walls will have to be checked...could be rot?"

"Could be," I agree with a bob of my head, and resume to snuggling my completely oblivious elfling. "Right, I think I need to bathe, I can't go to supper looking like this can I?"

"Oh, you are crafty," Celairiel shakes her head in mock disapproval as she follows me out of the room, giggling mischievously. "Do you think Ada will believe it?"

"Not in the slightest," I snigger, "your Ada and I were the worst culprits for causing havoc before you were born, and probably a good deal afterwards, you have no idea how many times we blamed others for our mishaps."

"I just cannot imagine Ada being so reckless," she replies with a faraway look, "I cannot even remember the last time he laughed, well, maybe he is a little better at it now."

"He is trying,"I nod in agreement and then grin in remembrance. "He laughed last night when you told that young squire to...and I quote...'go kiss an orc,' that poor boy."

"Poor boy my...ahem...do you know how many ellith he has charmed? Well, let us say I was just another name on his list," she sniffs haughtily, "so I was just letting him know I am not a prize, and Ada only found it funny because he agrees. You know there is no ellon in this Kingdom he would tolerate as my suitor, and frankly I agree with him, the pickings are dismal."

"Well, there are other kingdoms?" I chuckle, although inwardly I thank every Vala by name that she is utterly repulsed by the notion. I secretly agree, there are no ellyn good enough for my daughter here.

"You mean, court a Noldo lord?" she gasps in faux astonishment, skipping ahead of me to grip her chest in a show of theatrics, "or what is worse, a Sinda ellon from those traitorous Lorien folk? Oh Nana, no, the shame would haunt me forever."

Both Ferion and I erupt into fits of laughter at her dramatics, because she has very aptly verbalised her father's thoughts on the matter. She continues to entertain us the whole stroll back to my chambers, amusing me with her take on the relationship and ideals of her parents. I am relieved that the agreed distance between Thranduil and I has not been too keenly felt by the children. We are always amicable, and never once do we let them feel as though we were not a united pair. Our union is not broken, or over, it just requires space and growth. I think my children know this and I think they thrive better because of the release of tension between Thranduil and I.

If I am being brutally honest I would say that tasting a little more freedom has been exactly what I needed. I just needed to be me, or as close to me as being a ruler allows. I took my council seat, I demanded to be made aware of all political matters, and I took to the archives and libraries to learn, to read, to be better and to fill myself up with knowledge that would build up my confidence. I juggled raising my son with raising myself, teaching myself that I could no longer live in the mindset of a mortal - I was more than human and yet not entirely akin to an elf. I sought myself and found myself becoming philosophical, and in finding this new facet to myself I delved into my creativity and it felt wonderful to paint and grow and make things again. My art was not just to pass time anymore, but it was to literally get lost in - like how I used to before. Thranduil gave me my distance, it broke his heart but in breaking it he found it again, and sometimes we just have to break our hearts to make them feel like they should.

He is trying, truly searching himself, and that is all I can ask of him after the things he has seen. In our new found time apart - because we literally decided to live privately apart - he has returned to his forest, and I hope, he has opened his spirit to it again. Since I now insist we share as much of the burdens of ruling as possible, he now has the time for himself and I believe I am seeing a more settled side to him. He really is part of the wild, and you really should not try to tame the wild. As for the lies and secrets, the broken trust, and the terrible melancholies, well only time and his actions will help me forgive him...and I will...he just needs to work for it.

I still live within the King's chambers, because I will not have one soul suggest that I do not love him or that I do not entirely support him as his Queen. So publicly, for all intent and purpose, we still dwell quite happily together, and technically that isn't a lie, but we do not share such close space with each other anymore.

I quickly moved into my solarium, for I had plenty of spare space to use, and I shaped it into a peaceful boudoir of my own. I quite like the fact that I can just go there and know he isn't permitted to demand me out of it, and in all fairness Thranduil has been remarkably respectful. I believe my actions - though a little brash at the time - were enough to shake him into registering the pain his suffocation was causing me. So, we sleep apart, and occasionally eat apart, but we do have one solid rule; we must, must, always make time for one another at some point during our busy weeks.

Thranduil stipulated that it cannot be filled with business, politics, or issues regarding the children, and I dubiously agreed that I would spend time with him as long as it was on the basis of companionship - because I was still damn angry at him! At first those few hours were strained, difficult, and often sank into bickering arguments, but with time I have found that I actually look forward to our little 'dates' - I tried to call them this once but Thranduil was very confused by the reference, so the humour was lost. I feel like I have found my friend again, it is like learning to love someone all over again, although I don't think I ever stopped loving him...I just did not necessarily like him!

On return to my chambers tonight I find Elbes has drawn me a bath - she is one of the very few loyal servants who are aware of the slight change in my relationship with the king. She dutifully takes Ferion and scolds Celairiel for having twigs stuck in her hair and moss on her feet, and so I leave my more than capable lady to oversee supper plans whilst I enjoy a well deserved soak.

The bath is exactly what I needed to recover from strenuous exercise, which I clearly still have an extreme intolerance towards! I submerge in herbal laced water, inhaling the essential oils, and considering that this is as close to bliss as any female can hope to achieve. At times like this I like to list off all the things I am thankful for; my children, my friends, my odd yet wonderful second remade life, my immortality, my home, my people, Thranduil, and presently Elbes...because toddling elflings are exhausting and I have literally no clue how Ollie manages twins without help? Honestly, this is probably the first bath I have been able to take where Ferion hasn't either tried to get in with me, lay on the floor and babbled incessantly the whole time, or wailed for food, sleep, or attention.

Sometimes the real heroes in life are ordinary elleth with super duper patience and feminine intuition - Eru bless Ellie!

I take full advantage of my allotted moment of bliss, but eventually I have to trail myself out of the water before I turn into a prune, and face the world again. I take my time dressing, but by the time I have finished towelling my hair I am beginning to get suspicious of the silence...so I go hunting.

I cross the balcony and meander towards Thranduil's bedroom, spying the well lit space, I assume he is home. I tap the doorpost a few times before I slide through the already cracked open doors, and part the gossamer curtain;

"Thranduil?" I call quietly, feeling a little invasive. Our rooms are not off limits to each other, not by no means, I just feel that respect works both ways and I should be just as thoughtful with him as he is with me, although I know he insists that I can come and go as I please. He thinks of this space as our space, our bedroom, and therefore I am free to return to it whenever I wish.

A rustling and a shadow to my left alerts me to his presence, and I attempt to look as disinterested as possible as he shuffles wearily into the room in nothing but loose leggings and shrugging off a long robe. His left eye is heavy, shadowed, a sure sign he is tired or troubled. His gaze lifts to mine and he smiles suddenly, his countenance brightening, and I can't help how I copy him.

"Good evening melamin," he speaks in a soft husk and for some unknown reason I blush.

"Yes, it is...a good evening that is," I quip as I spy the clean tunic left on the bed and practically leap to reach it to him; "I was just popping through...looking for Ferion actually...is he with Ellie?"

"He is with his siblings," Thranduil replies evenly, whilst giving me a sidelong knowing smirk, "Legolas, apparently, heard of some musical display in the markets this evening, and Celairiel practically ran all of them out the door in her excitement. Do not fret I sent Elbes with them...and Rista...you are free for the evening."

"Oh, pity, I was looking forward to a family supper," I mutter glumly, absently rubbing the dull ache over my hip and back.

"Well, I am still looking for a dining companion if you would care for my company?" Thranduil suggests breezily, but I hear the hopefulness in his voice and I can't help my soft giggle in response. He grins in relief at my obvious joy at the suggestion, but I watch as that smile fades into a frown.

"What?" I query, still rubbing my hip.

"You're hurt," he accuses and I automatically grow defensive.

"No, I'm not, I just had a little bump today, nothing a rest won't fix," I reply airily and he rolls his eyes in utter disbelief before dipping his hand into the drawer by his bedside.

"A little bump with the dining room chandelier perhaps?" Thranduil arcs a questioning eyebrow as he trots around the bed to come stand opposite me, carrying a small pot in his hand. "You know - as part of our terms - that I do not question your endeavours or attempt to curtail your interests, but Clara...combat? Love, you struggle to stay upright most of the time, let alone run with knives - you are going to destroy my home!"

"Oh hush up!" I scold and playfully shove his chest, "That chandelier was ugly anyway, and I think combat is a good skill for a Queen to have, don't you agree?"

"Do you want my honest thoughts or the censored opinion?" he asks with a tilt to his head and I grimace, gesturing for him to carry on with his assessment. "I think," he begins thoughtfully, "that wanting to be able to defend your people and your family is a noble thing, and I do not discourage the desire to learn. However, as a King who loves his Queen, and knows her worth to his people, I would put myself between she and the edge of a blade in a heartbeat before I would see blood on her hands."

For a moment I forget to speak, for I am so caught up in the underlying worth of his statement that I could cry with happiness. He really is trying to understand me, and I know that for him to let me even train or think about fighting causes him visible anxiety. I never wanted him to get out of my way, I just wanted him to let me try to and fly alone, and he is.

He is still fighting his demons for me, for himself, and for us...do I dare hope that we are out of the thick of the storm now? I honestly hope so.

"May I?" Thranduil offers, holding out his fingertips smeared in a strong smelling poultice that I recognise. I snap out of my trance to frown at his hand.

"I can do it myself," I tell him forcefully, folding my arms tightly about my chest and narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

"I know, but may I?" He pushes and I sense a yearning in his voice, the want for a reassuring gesture of care between us, so I relent with a single nod.

I carefully untie the laces at the side of my shift dress, loosening them enough over my hip to allow his hand to slide through the fabric and settle on my throbbing back. I tense automatically, but ease up as he carefully massages the relaxant oils into my grumbling muscles. His thumb and base of his palm knead deeply into the skin and I have to stop myself from groaning from a mixture of relief and pain.

"You used to do this for me every night when I returned from the guard all battered and bruised" Thranduil mumbles quietly, his voice so close to my ear that I shiver involuntarily. "Do you remember?" He asks and I just about bob my head in agreement.

"That was a long time ago," I comment, biting my hand so I don't give away the whine that threatens to escape my lips...ouch!

"Not that long ago in comparison," he chuckles and retracts his hand, and I register that I kind of miss the touch, so I spin and grip his wrist.

"Thank you," I murmur as sincerely as I can manage, "that was nice...your hands are not as rough as I remember?"

"King's hands," Thranduil grins, stepping closer to me and outreaching his palms in my grasp, "they become soft from wielding feather quills instead of swords."

"Still just as warm," I reassure him, pulling his palm to my cheek so I can snuggle into the heat, brushing my lips along the curve of his thumb, "Still mine."

"Always," he replies in an equally reassuring voice, the tip of his thumb tracing my cheekbone.

"We should get something to eat," I sigh, releasing his hand but not pulling away from our close proximity. "I barely get a meal to myself these days, Ferion has taken to wanting to share plates as well as food."

"I noticed," Thranduil gives me an understanding grimace whilst helping me lace up the dress. "He refused to eat his egg this morning unless we shared it."

"And by share he means that eating becomes an elaborate story of the bread soldiers falling into the volcano?" I ask whist sniggering quietly.

"Yes!" Thranduil exclaims as he takes my hand and proceeds to the door, "and, once they are all suitably drowned in lava, the dragon gets to eat them?"

"Let me guess...you were the dragon?" I ask with a quirked brow.

"I know! The resemblance is uncanny!" Thranduil provides in a rather sarcastic retort

"Shockingly so," I snigger in reply whilst narrowly ducking a slight shove.

xXx

"No, no, you are so wrong, I distinctly recall it was your idea to fill Raffyn's desk with compost" I slur and slap my hand a little harder than intended on the table, gripping my wine glass a tad bit tighter in case I spill it...again.

Thranduil leans across the table, shaking an empty bottle of his favoured vintage and frowning unhappily at the realisation it is all gone.

"It was your idea...and I am right...you just loathe admitting it," he grumbles back as he tosses the bottle to the side in his disgruntlement. "Where did all my wine go?"

"You drank it all," I giggle and lounge out over the elegant dining room chair, eyeing up a handful of dried fruits and nuts, honestly I have no idea where I put the food, or the wine for that matter.

"I did not drink all of that by myself, you must have snuck a glass, or five, when I was not looking," he accuses with a pointed finger and I laugh teasingly, swirling the remains in my glass and downing it before he can steal it. "Thief," he hisses playfully with narrowed eyes and I merely grin innocently.

Shaking his head, Thranduil shifts towards me and perches on the edge of the table his smile wavering a little and I register that our playful conversation has reached its end.

"What's wrong?" I ask cautiously, sitting up a little straighter.

"Are you still intending to leave the morning after next?" he questions, his gaze slipping to the floor.

"Of course," I answer defensively, before launching into my well-practised speech; "I used to visit the woodsmen settlements regularly after your coronation, I haven't been in well over two decades and I feel that is a disgrace. Thranduil, I will not be gone long and I promised Celairiel she could come. She wants to meet mortal men and women, she wants to know where her mother came from, and what she is. I have to take her."

"I know," Thranduil holds his hand up peacefully and gives a defeated sigh. "I was not going to make an issue out of you going, although you know how I feel about our children's heritage. They are not Perehil, but I do not blame Celairiel's curiosity."

"Then why are you asking me if I intend to leave or not?" I push, my brows furrowed in confusion. "Thranduil, what are you troubled over?"

"Nothing," he answers and reaches for my hand, "but I have a request."

"What now?" I grumble, studying his hand in trepidation.

"No Clara...Oh for Eru's sake...this is a serious request!" Thranduil snaps and shoots up from the table looking slightly peeved, so I settle myself and gesture for him to continue. "Do you remember the dwarves that assisted in the re-fortification of the outer walls over the rivers?"

"Yes," I reply, watching in mild amusement as Thranduil's jaw twitches in irritation.

Before Ferion was born Thranduil had commissioned dwarves to assist in the redevelopment of the outer walls of the realm, specifically the curtain walls overarching the rivers that flow from the city. The decision to involve dwarf smiths was not taken lightly, but the original structure was developed by dwarves for Oropher as a peace offering for crossing Silvan lands. Since the elven road remains the main thoroughfare of the woods word often reaches our ears of travelling dwarves seeking work in the North. It was not terribly hard to source their expertise, but it was much harder to convince Thranduil to deal directly with them.

"Well, I have received word that they intend on crossing our borders in a week or so from now, so as to discuss settlement of fair payment and to complete some outstanding work," he tells me, working very hard to keep the disdain from his voice.

"I see," I reply and drop my chin in my hands, "and let me guess you would much rather not have to entertain them?"

"I did not say that," he corrects swiftly. "I just do not have the time to ride out and meet them, there is too much to contend with at home at present, and I have several tedious trade and planning councils to attend. However, it seems logical that if you are that far south then you could greet our guests and escort them back. That would settle their irritating desire to be met by monarchy, what greater honour than to be greeted by my elusive Queen."

"indeed!" I exclaim and throw him a knowing smirk, "flattery gets you far my King."

"Well, that would be a first," he chuckles quietly before settling me with a serious look. "I am being very serious Clara, I would like you to preside over this, admittedly because I cannot stomach the dull creatures for more than a few seconds at a time, but truly I need the help. The last thing I need is dwarf smiths showing up to cause havoc with the rivers, especially not when I have this much internal upkeep."

"Relax," I sigh and slip off the chair to join him perched on the table. I slide up beside him and bump our shoulders together. "I think I can stretch to overseeing this particular political goodwill exchange, but is there anything else bothering you? You seem distracted?"

"I feel like I should not tell you," he mumbles almost inaudibly and I narrow my eyes, my stomach sinking at the thought of this argument again. I go to open my mouth to say just that when he holds up his hand. "I am not going to not tell you, so save me the lecture," he warns and I quickly press my lips into a thin line. "Apparently I am paranoid," Thranduil grumbles and lowers his gaze, I literally have to suck in my bottom lip to refrain from smirking.

"And who dared call you that?" I ask with maybe the teeniest bit of sarcasm.

"Aradan, the elder council, half the guard...Legolas," he admits sadly and I take his hand comfortingly, being absolutely unable to hide my smirk now. "I cannot be at ease Clara, I cannot settle myself, since the war I just feel trapped in a cycle of anticipation and fear. I know there is no reason for my worry, truly I do, I have scoured the woods and I know there is nothing to fear or at least nothing yet, but the dread in the pit of stomach never ceases. It is like a poison, it kills me from the inside out."

"You look very much alive to me," I murmur quietly as I pick a strand of his silken hair between my fingers and draw it back behind his regal ear.

His jaw clenches at my remark and I suddenly feel quite remorseful, so I reach for my dearest friend, my companion, the other half of me. I slide my hands across his chest and over his shoulders, nestling my head into his heart, feeling it beat with strength and vigour. A moment passes before his arms wrap cautiously around my body, his head burrowing into my hair and feel his deep inhale as he savours my scent.

"I don't know how to take this fear away from you," I mumble into his chest, "but I know you are trying valiantly not to project it on to me."

"Is it enough?" he asks timidly, I almost giggle at the uncertainty, for he sounds like the unsure and nervous prince I had had the stupidity to fall in love with. Thranduil shuffles uncomfortably before gently easing me upright to force me to look at him. "I never want to push you away Clara, but I also do not want you to feel like I am manipulating or controlling your life here, I see the flaws in that well-intentioned idiocy now. You have made it abundantly clear that you do not need me in your life, and I deserved that reminder, but is my regret enough for you? If I cannot shake these fears, if I can never be the elf you remember, then how can I make you stay? Ferion is getting older, he grows so fast and one day he will not require his Naneth, and you are free to leave with nothing to call you back. That fear is more despairing than any war wound or trauma I have ever endured - the terror of losing you to my own stupidity is what keeps me awake at night now."

"You are still so consumed with fear!" I remark, almost angrily. "Thranduil, look past the fear or your life is going to be spent carrying around an unbearable weight of regrets. Trust me, I know this, I died a bitter, angry, lonely, young woman. Stop fearing that I could leave and start enjoying my company, like you did just a few moments ago. If we were mortal our lives would be fleeting and I now understand how blessed we are, so come on...wake up Thranduil...wake up and enjoy what we have now instead of trying to coset it and worry over what might end it all."

"I did warn you that I felt I should not tell you my troubles," he grumbles unhappily and I laugh, surprising him by planting a firm kiss to his left cheek.

"Telling me, is exactly what I needed you to do," I praise him and snuggle back against his chest. "Do you remember how strong we were after we unearthed both our secrets, remember how much easier it was to understand each other?" I feel Thranduil nod his head and I grin, "you wore a mask to hide a monster and I was the immortal reincarnation of a human women - an alien for want of a better word." Thranduil laughs a strong throaty chuckle and I peek up at his eyes, his wonderfully soulful silvery blue eyes as I continue on softly. "Neither of us could understand our individual secrets but that didn't matter, what mattered was that we talked. We talked from the time the sun set in the evenings until it rose again at dawn. We articulated our fears to one another, and when they seemed all consuming we chased them away with love and friendship...and sometimes a lot of wine."

"I remember," he replies softly, and I hear the smile in his voice. There is a moment of contemplative silence before Thranduil blows out a long silence; "What happened to us, Clara? When did we become so boring?"

"We are not boring," I scold playfully as I slide off the table and point a warning finger so it prods the tip of his nose. I snigger at the scrunched up face he gives before I slink to his left and lift the elegant glass filled with untouched water. In a flash I tip it over his head and hurtle to the far end of the room laughing gleefully at the astonished expression he wears.

"Argh...Clara...you vixen!" Thranduil roars and stumbles after me, spluttering and wiping vainly at his face. "What was that for?"

"For being an old, grumpy, and paranoid, King," I reply with a warning tone, before sticking out my tongue and ducking behind the door when I spy him lift the full jug of water.

"Paranoid I understand," he mutters and I hear him stalk towards the door, "grumpy I can forgive," he continues before he steps around the threshold and I make a bolt for it, "but old? Well, that is just a step too far!"

With a whoosh, the water lands across the floor and catches me over the backs of my shoulders.

I can't even make a sound more than a shocked squeak, the water is so cold, I just seem to freeze and shiver.

I hear Thranduil's bare feet pad swiftly across the floor and I instantly attempt to run in case I get drowned again.

I give a shriek when Thranduil catches the hem of my dress, twisting and batting him away as he chases after me.

I scamper around the sofa and he launches over the top of it.  I lift a pillow and hurl it at him, before turning and racing the other direction.

Thranduil has always been quicker than me and it is no surprise when he leaps in front of me.

I collide into his chest, because my toes caught on the rug, and as I try to swivel around the two of us slip and slide to the ground with an almighty crash!

Lying pinned under Thranduil, with the two of us laughing heartily and breathlessly, and the golden glow of the blazing fire sending a brightness across our skin I almost momentarily forget the past year.

I toss my arms around his neck and draw him close so our foreheads touch and our noses bump, his chuckling subsides as he lips press tenderly to mine, and before I know it I feel his palm spread out warmly over my knee, then slowly he slides his hand down my hip gathering my dress as he goes. Instinctively we move in unison and our kiss deepens, a gravelly groan escaping my mate's lips. The sound is so enjoyable that I almost contemplate giving into it, but my hip twinges and my leg cramps almost on cue.

"Ow, oooh, ouch," I hiss and struggle up onto my elbows, whilst Thranduil scrambles back pulling a concerned expression as he grips my leg and gently massages the horrid cramp.

"See, this is what happens when you get into fights with chandeliers," Thranduil tuts playfully, feebly brushing over the disappointment of the moment with a timid smile.

I roll my eyes back towards the ceiling and grumble, "more like what happens when you challenge your overzealous son to a dual!"

"Honestly Clara, I would not even challenge Legolas to a dual," he gives me a serious look and smirks, "he would probably destroy me now, and I do not wish to have my pride wounded further."

"Well, that's what you get for training him," I tease and prod his shoulder with my foot, "the student has become the master!"

"No," Thranduil corrects as he pulls me into sitting, "not quite yet, but I really have let myself go, especially if my wife can pull such a stunt on me."

"Hmm, that is true," I laugh softly and wipe his damp hair from his face, before peeking up coyly at him. "But, maybe, if you had some time to work on those legendary reflexes while I was gone, then perhaps we could test them out on my return?"

A beat of silence passes between us as I watch the realisation dawn on Thranduil, his lips part a little and his hand reaches out to cup my cheek. He holds my gaze for the longest time, searching the depths of my eyes for any hint of teasing, but of course he finds none.

"Truly?" he barely asks in a voice above a whisper. "You would come back to me? To our bed? To this union?"

"Yes," I reply firmly as I cup the hand he holds my face with in my own, turning into his hand to kiss his palm. I level him with an almost disciplinary look, attempting to hide a smirk as Thranduil falters and ducks his chin. "Thranduil, my life is here with you, even you know this. If I decide to travel all over Arda I will always come home to you, because you are my home - you and the children. Now, don't think I am relenting just because I am drawing a line under our hash-ups. I still intend to continue my duties and I will travel when our son is old enough to be apart from me."

"Yes! Yes, of course," Thranduil practically wilts with relief as he grips my shoulders and shakes them gently. "You can come and go as you wish. Clara, we can even travel together somewhere, yes? To Dorwinion, to the magnificent vineyards, and I will send for the eastern smiths to make you colourful jewels that will be the envy of our Western kin."

"Okay, alright, slow down," I chuckle and pat his chest, "yes that would be wonderful, but all I really want is to visit my friends in Imladris."

"For someone who complains so much about being suffocated, you really are not very adventurous with your escape destinations?" Thranduil answers with a quirk of his eyebrow, whilst I eye him pleadingly. "Oh, fine!" he scowls and crosses his arms, pouting a little, "I do not know what you see in the place, it is too...perfect!"

"If you do not huff about me going to Imladris, I shall happily travel to Dorwinion with you," I snigger and this seems to soften him a little, as he smile hopefully.

"Then it is a deal and a promise," Thranduil tells me and outstretches his long hand to me, which I grip firmly in my own smaller less elegant one. We shake our hands with enthusiastic vigour and Thranduil leans in to kiss my cheek.

"No more fear? No more worrying about the 'might be's' and 'what if's', right? We are going to enjoy our life together, yes?" I question timidly and he nods solemnly.

"I am going to treasure it always," Thranduil affirms, and this time I believe him.

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A/N:  ...so, we have reached an Understanding...maybe?  But Clara has a mission to attend, wonder what she'll uncover?

Anyway, yay, guys thank you for all the love.  Book 1 has almost reached 70k views and has made it onto Wattpad's official-visible list of stories that highlight disability and illness.  This is obviously a big deal for me as a disabled person, and because TLA has been so much part of that journey for me.  So it's just wonderful for the book to be acknowledged that way.  It wouldn't happen without reader support and for that I am truly grateful.

Love CJ

Picture Media: Is my own editing dabbling for Clara & Thranduil.  Do you guys make edits or art? How do you picture Clara and Thranduil? Or Ollie & Aradan?  Or maybe even the late great Oropher and his wife?