I didn't know what I should have expected as we continued to follow Galadriel through the tree lined walk of Lórien. I tried to consider my feelings, like any good self-therapist, and there was nothing but anxious anticipation. 

I snuck a glance at Legolas, who seemed impassive, as usual, but he looked at me and I instantly saw in his eyes my own feelings mirrored back.

We went up so many spiraling stairs and lace lattices of wood I lost count, but suddenly Galadriel stopped and seemed to be exchanging news with a messenger who had passed her by. 

She turned and said, "I'm afraid our destination is going to have to wait. There is another party that has just arrived at the main gates and I dare say it would be prudent to welcome them." She beckoned for us to follow her and we did so, turning sharply left and descending from the city in the trees until we were in the clear glade at the center once more. 

Although I couldn't help but feel deflated after coming so close to seeing the sunstone, I still was eager to meet Faewyn and the rest of the party, which very likely included the Elvenking and his guard, as well. 

I smiled in spite of myself--my reaction all those years ago to be expecting the presence of Thranduil would probably include anxiety and extreme feelings of inferiority.

Instead, I quickly increased my pace and strode forward assuredly. 

I bowed in the presence of Thranduil, and even Legolas inclined his head respectfully. Galadriel merely put her hand over her heart in an expression of greeting. "King Thranduil, it pleases me to see you have arrived well. You see, we have asked you for your attendance on a matter that would interest you greatly." 

"Is that so?" he asked, coolly but not disrespectfully. He looked at me briefly, acknowledging me with a glance, and dismounted fluidly from his mount, a pure white horse the colour of the moon. His guard, two elves flanking him, did the same.

I saw Faewyn and Maldor behind the King's party, followed by the steadfast men of Gondor who still never faltered in their positions, though I was sure they were quite disoriented at such proceedings, much like I was when I first entered this world of the ethereal elves. 

I tried to catch Faewyn's eye but she did not see me, as she was quietly conversing with Maldor. 

"We traveled fast to meet here but I must inform you that I cannot stay long, a few days at most. There are still things within my borders which require immediate attention." Thranduil said authoritatively, snapping me back to attention. 

"Of course," Galadriel agreed smoothly. "Alderon," she continued, facing the messenger we had just seen, "Would you show the king's guard to their quarters? They no longer need stay."

Alderon bowed and motioned for the two elves in their glittering armour to follow him through the mallorn trees. 

Three other ellyn of unknown positions strode forward and wordlessly led the King's horses away to the stables. 

Meanwhile, Thranduil was deep in conversation with Galadriel and Celeborn, a few paces away from Legolas and I.

"Does he not greet you as a son outside of familiarity?" I murmured quietly, barely turning to glance at him.

I saw Legolas smile wryly in reply. "No, in any setting but when we are alone he is expected to address me only by my title or my rank, and I his." 

"Why?" 

"It is the way things must be, and is common practice among nobility. I know not else."

Speaking of nobility, Thranduil had turned and was beckoning for us to continue with them. We walked in silence until we reached an array of white steps that led to an open room of considerable size, a veritable structure in this tree-city of silken bowers. 

"This looks exactly like the gathering hall in Rivendell," Legolas commented thoughtfully, gazing around at the delicate arches that were buttresses for a wide, airy roof that was hardly there.

Galadriel turned, amused, and answered, "Celebrían always loved this place, so she insisted on similar arrangements when she was wed to Lord Elrond."

I thought on this with slight amusement, considering how that might have come about.

"Now," she continued, turning to face all of us, "Prince Legolas, might you show the King what you have brought?"

Legolas nodded shortly and reached deftly inside his quiver, pulling out the faded scroll. "As you have been informed, my King, the lady Gianna has found one of the oldest documents of Arda, likely the last copy of the Record of the Gifts of the Valar. It was recovered from the ruin of Barad-Dûr's foremost treasury but eight days prior." As he spoke, he undid the leather tie and gently spread the parchment out on the white marble.

Thranduil showed no reaction outwardly, but when he spoke, his voice was hushed.

"This is the record." The king said it unquestioningly. "I saw another copy in another time, thousands of years ago."

He gingerly picked up the parchment. "This is a rare find indeed, and valuable beyond measure," Thranduil continued. "Gianna, I am forever grateful for your finding of this scroll."

"It is hardly worth mentioning, my Lord," I said courteously. "I am pleased that you find it worthwhile."

"But of course," he said gravely, "This is an important advancement in keeping track of many hallowed objects in this world."

He scanned the page, occasionally nodding to himself as if he recognised all of them.

He probably did, for that matter. It was easy to forget his age when one took in his youthful appearance, like all elves, I supposed.

Legolas accidentally brushed against me, jolting me out of my thoughts. I recoiled instantly, hoping nobody would notice, but Thranduil was watching us interestedly.

"What did you seek when we first set off?" Legolas asked, fortunately recalling at that moment that Thranduil had seemed incredibly interested in discovering something relevant to him as well.

"I sought the true purpose of Gianna's presence," he said softly. "I needed to know if she was the only one that could come into the world, if the Valar had assigned this task to anyone else. If any of my realms were endangered by exterior foes."

I couldn't help but feel indignant at that comment. External foes?  Like I could have been, presumably.

But I recalled his fear of death, the King's understandable aversion to danger, and only felt sure he was a good leader to be concerned for his people.

"Lady Galadriel," Thranduil considered thoughtfully, "It would be of great benefit to all elven kindreds if this document were to be copied again, to prevent the potential future loss of these accounts."

"Of course," Galadriel affirmed, "We shall instruct our scribes to transcribe a copy of this document so that you might return to Eryn Lasgalen to similarly preserve it."

Celeborn stood from where he had been quietly seated. "I will hence inform the scribes so that they might immediately begin."

"Many thanks, mellyn nin (my friends)," Thranduil said, as Celeborn gently furled the aged scroll.

I was slightly taken aback by Thranduil's choice of words. Allies, yes. Comrades, perhaps. But friends? Perhaps I never envisioned the distant figure as one who held people close. But he did, I realised. That must contribute to his seemingly detached illusion; people he loved had a habit of dying.

I shuddered at the thought. How horrible it must be to have those most precious to you torn from your side. Pushing such melancholy thoughts aside, I instead focused on the conversation.

"Tell me," Thranduil said suddenly, "How did you find this? I hardly doubt that the gates of Barad-Dûr had written directions to their treasury." His mouth quirked into a small smile at that. 

"The tale is long and would require much explanation," I admitted. "It began in Gondor--we had only intended to visit so we might search their archives for this very scroll, or something like it. Then one of the Remnants began trailing us..."

*******
"It hardly seems like this is the usual search, then," Thranduil commented thoughtfully after my attempt at a brief recounting of the relevant bits of the journey thus far. "So much more is at stake."

I nodded. "It is certainly of utmost importance that we find this fabled weapon sooner rather than later." I suppressed a shiver and added, "Of course I pray to the Valar that this is not the case, but there is a chance we may have been followed."

"You haven't," Galadriel said, seemingly without having thinking. 

Of course, she would know--nothing ever escaped the Lady of Light. 

As if on cue, she spoke again. "Why did he curse you?" 

I uphold my previous statement that nothing ever escaped her perception. 

"What do you mean?" I asked, rather uncomfortably.

Her eyes laughed at my apprehension. "Was there a reason that Falcon decided to curse you?"

Thranduil was scrutinising me closely, which was pretty stressful in itself.

"Jealously is expressed in many forms," said Legolas evenly.

"What was the curse?" Thranduil asked, concerned.

"It was...complicated," I clarified, without clarifying anything. "Even though his soul was consumed by that of evil, he still maintained some of his humanity in that he still felt desire. He aimed to make me feel as he did, cheated by love, so in his rage he took away my touch--it will kill anyone I love more than a friend."

I tried to ignore the incredibly awkward situation and rather focused myself on repeatedly clasping and unclasping my icy fingers. 

"It was certainly unexpected but fortunately has not impeded us on any way during the course of this journey," Legolas pointed out. 

I relaxed slightly at Legolas' extremely apt explanation. He was right, fortunately it had not (really) affected our success.

Thranduil cocked his head slightly at me but said nothing else. "Lady Galadriel, how fast can you have the document replicated?" he asked.

"Within the day, surely," she replied, standing. Thranduil stood as well, and bowed slightly.

"Again, the finding of this document has been most fortunate," the King said. "Gianna, I hope you know that your trials have not been in vain." 

"I do, my King," I responded, "Thank you."

I reflected that "thank you" perhaps wasn't the right sentiment, although it fit the context. 

Galadriel spoke again. "King Thranduil, if you would, we have another matter to attend to that you may find intriguing." 

"Certainly," he said. "What is this you speak of?" 

"The sunstone, my Lord," Legolas said quietly. "It is here in Lórien." 

Again, no emotion from Thranduil visibly, but he turned quickly to Galadriel. "I had no idea," he said in a shocked voice. "Since when?" 

"Since the second age," she said softly, "Many thousands of years ago." 

"Then let us see it," Thranduil proclaimed. 

My sentiments exactly, I thought.

********

After we passed the white marble gates of the armoury, my eyes had to adjust to the sudden darkness. Lit by bluish lanterns seemingly existing from nothingness, the cold metal blades shone in a dazzling light. The two guards posted just inside the doors nodded at us as we entered.

"This was built to be almost impenetrable." Galadriel's musical voice drifted through the dusky light. "The most guarded treasury is fifth."

"Fifth what?" I murmured to Legolas.

He leaned lose to my ear, his hair brushing my neck. I breathed in sharply, overcome by a sudden urge to pull him closer. I ignored it. "The fifth room within this one," he murmured.

I narrowed my eyes skeptically. "There are four rooms in here?"

He laughed softly and didn't reply. Among the perfectly arranged spears there was a low archway in the centre of the room, and Galadriel ducked inside, beckoning us forward. We followed her expectantly, feeling the eyes of the watchful guards on us all the time. She knocked once on the door and it swung open, four sentries greeting us on the other side. "My lady," they murmured respectfully, although it sounded magnified in the silent calm.

We continued, walking to the left until the room curved into another door. "This is the third and last armoury," she commented. "It houses the most valuable and revered weapons, many of which were forged in such ancient forges as those of Aman, Gondolin, and Tírion."

"Could there not be a weapon there that holds connection to that mentioned by the Valar?" Legolas asked, not unreasonably.

"No," Galadriel said, then added wryly, "Many of these weapons have seen more violence and darkness than even the oldest Eldar."

After a series of six guards this time, we passed into the even smaller third chamber, and I found no words to describe the array of weapons hung on the walls. The blades shone like stars and the hilts of the longswords, daggers, broadswords, and many others I couldn't name were studded with precious stones.

"They are beautiful," I breathed, taking in the dazzling assortment. The bluish lanterns made them seem to be made of stardust.

Thranduil stopped suddenly, aghast. "Ringil," he said simply, his voice immeasurably sad. He turned to Galadriel with a disbelieving glance. "How did you get it?"

She sighed, looking at the sword that hung a few paces in front of me. The blade was long and it glinted like a shard of ice, the metal as pale as winter. The hilt was adorned with hundreds of small diamonds, ranging from clear white to pale blue, and a square sapphire the colour of the sky studded the middle.

"It passed to me after the death of Fingon, his eldest son," Galadriel said. Her calm demeanour was betrayed by a look of loss in her eyes. She turned away.

Fingolfin. The letter I had found in Barad Dur had been written to him, mightiest of elf lords at that time. He was known for many deeds, but by far that one which he was most revered for was the reason he fell. With his sword, Ringil, he smote the dark Morgoth seven times before he was brutally killed by him.

The sword in front of me had been in his hands when he fell, dark viscous liquid tainting the pure blade, meeting the red rivulets of Fingolfin's own blood, a shattering silence as his broken body hit the stained earth.

Though I did not realise it, a tear slid down my cheek at this devastating mental image.

I dropped the moonstone I didn't know I had touched and it bumped lightly back to my chest.

Legolas wasn't saying anything, and simply stood rigidly next to me. I could tell he was also grieved by seeing this sword, it was too much to take in, and there was not a language in Arda that could express all the startling loss of the first age. Galadriel seemed to feel the same way as she sighed and turned right, away from the sword and towards the next door.

In the fourth chamber, about as large as a small bedroom, there was an assortment of things placed on pedestals and stands, all of which I knew now to be of immeasurable worth. To prove this point, eight guards stood along the inner wall of the chamber, suspiciously looking at everyone (except for Galadriel, naturally). A globe of solid gold caught my attention--it seemed to be in motion constantly, though I knew it to be still.

Galadriel noticed where my glance had fallen. "That is the Sphere of Tulkas," she said thoughtfully. "Apparently his hounds played with it in Valinor." She smiled to herself and then added, "It has the property to keep anything afloat, even if it should not."

I only could gaze in wonder. There were other things, too, bottles made of crystal and a large, twisted branch of unknown origin. Upon a high shelf was a star. It looked like a star, at least, a violet silver light that gently flickered as it hung, suspended, from the air.

"I have not even entered this place," Thranduil admitted, now visibly entranced by the hundreds of priceless relics.

"Few ever do," Galadriel said. "Fewer still actually know what lies within."

She approached another door.

The guards moved aside and she drew from her neck a chain so thin it was like spider's silk, and on it hung a glass key.

"Does not the glass break?" I said, probably sounding like an idiot.

"It is adamant, Lady Gianna," she corrected me. "So no, it does not."

I had the sudden urge to write that on my Christmas list.

Hi, yes, I'd like a key made of diamond, thanks, bye.

Wordlessly, she slipped the key into the lock and turned. The door clicked and as it swung open, I saw instantly that in the center of an otherwise dark and bare room was a jet column of obsidian rock, which held a small box.

"Come," she said, more urgently. As soon as the hem of Thranduil's crimson cloak cleared the doorway, it clicked shut.

I noticed that in this pitch black, there were no blue lanterns.

Galadriel (I assumed) stepped forward and opened the box, revealing a small stone the size of any average pebble. However, it shone bright enough to illuminate the room, even though it was not too bright to look at. It was entrancing--the warm light filled the room and I saw that the heart of the clear stone was shot through with veins of burnt umber and orange like the rising sun, a pale yellow like a cold spring morning and even electric violet, like the dusk.

"This is the sunstone of Arien," Galadriel said, although it needed no explanation.