I had lots of "favorite" chapters planned before I started writing this. One of them was chapter seven, where Legolas carries her back from the cottage, and this was another one.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it - and THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone that's been leaving reviews. I reread them every now and again, especially before I start writing the next chapter. You all are so inspirational and encouraging.

Cheers!


CHAPTER TEN

The Golden Drink

Thunder rumbled overhead outside the windows of the library. Towering above nearly all the others trees and buildings in Eryn Lasgalen, Legolas had a perfect view of the clouds on this level of the building. The smell of incense was potent, a harp playing on another floor, the gentle sound carrying all the way up to where he was.

A ledger lay before him on the table, but he paid it no mind—his attention had strayed to the droplets of rain dribbling down tree branches that managed to grow this high, leaking off the edges of leaves. No creature in the world should have to stare so long at dry registries and financial accounts. He was just about finished with this time of year, which was always the agonizing prelude to a series of celebratory weeks. Sometimes months.

"Your highness," someone spoke, and Legolas turned to find the palace messenger standing at the end of the aisle. "I was told you'd be here—I have a message for you from Imladris, from Lord Galion."

Any other day, Legolas might've been more enthused. But he was tired, his taste for excitement dulled. He reached listlessly for the envelope and offered the courier a polite smile, still regretting his former outbursts some weeks ago. "Thank you."

The young elf bowed his head and departed, leaving the prince to open the envelope and read the contents,

Legolas,

It has been a week since I arrived in Imladris and thought you might be interested to hear some news. To start, your presumptions about Lady Estel have proven true. She is here.

I delivered your letter, and she had the most amusing reaction— I made sure to take the chance during a private moment between meetings… You would not believe mydiscomforting response when, for the first time in my life, I felt pinned to the spot by the icy glare of a mortal woman. I do believe you shocked her with your accurate presumptions to the destination of your letter.

Now. I do have matters to attend to. And I will continue on in the singularly uncomfortable task you've also asked me to complete. You can be sure that I will require more explanation upon my return and will someday call upon a favor of equal magnitude - for you and your strange impositions.

Well wishes and unnerving salutations,

Your friend Galion.

Legolas rolled his lips together, suppressing a smile as he pictured the cutting glare Galion must have received from Estel. He reached for a quill and parchment to answer the letter.

Galion,

I received your message and wish to remind you that this 'grandiose' favor you speak of is nothing more than a deliverance of your opinion of the Feast of Starlight to the House of Elrond. If Estel hears it in your company and does not take an interest, there is nothing to be done about it - do not press her.

As I have not received a response from her, I will assume she is doing well or otherwise grieving on her own time. I am glad, at the very least, to hear that she is not locked alone in her room.

A word of advice - if she frightens you, don't look her in the eyes. But be kind and courteous nevertheless, for you are acting in my stead. You can't imagine the piles of work gracing my desk as I write this - I won't be leaving Eryn Lasgalen anytime soon.

Thank you, as always, for your service to the crown.

Safe travels and discomforting greetings,

Legolas

The prince sat back and peered down at the parchment.

King Thranduil had been right to request his continued presence in the kingdom—in fact, Legolas had already seen to and organized the arrangement of the grand festival and written letters of invitation on behalf of the crown to elves throughout Middle Earth. The Greenwood itself was a large enough kingdom to accommodate such a vast population of guests, and there was no shortage of enthusiasm in the replies they'd already received.

Legolas leaned forward atop the desk and stared down at the parchments, then swept them away.

He needed a break.


The days passed in something of a blur, and there was much for Legolas to occupy himself with. He hardly thought of Galion until his next letter arrived two weeks later.

Legolas,

I received your correspondence and have fastened the words 'service to the crown' to my conscience. I suppose that is one way to describe this odd endeavor.

If you think you've escaped further discussion about it, you are mistaken. You are so lucky to have a friend as tolerant as I.

My news is this - I joined Lord Elrond and Lady Arwen (along with Lord Glorfindel and several others) for dinner. You'll be surprised to find that my sentiments on the Feast of Starlight were not necessary, for the Evenstar and her father expressed their own interests in attending. I suspect you may hear of it, that is all I have to tell you.

My business here is nearly concluded, and I will make my way back home. You will not hear from me again until I return to Eryn Lasgalen. I will see you then with firm expectations of our impending discussions.

Best wishes and strange regards,

Your friend Galion

"Your highness." Legolas looked up from the letter—he'd been perched in his usual spot at the top level of the library and was disappointed to find that there was nowhere for him to hide—not even up here. The librarian stood nearby, a pile of books in his hands—he looked like ehe was on his way to arrange them back along the shelves. "Someone stopped by with a summons from your father—he wishes to see you in his study."

Legolas nodded, folding Galion's letter and tucking it away. He made his way back across the Halls of Thranduil until he came upon his father's study, where he found his father also perched amidst a mountain of papers and correspondences—it brought Legolas a fleeting satisfaction.

"Legolas," Thranduil mused without looking up from the parchment he was reading. "Please, sit."

Legolas did as he was bid. "Why have you summoned me here? I've much to attend to."

"I am well aware of that," the king said. "But there is something I would like to address. Tell me, Legolas—do you believe there is a place for lies between father and son?"

Legolas furrowed a brow. "No, I do not believe that."

"Then might you tell me honestly whether you had something to do with this?" The king reached out with a single hand, lifting an envelope between two fingers off the desk.

The prince merely blinked at it. The back was facing him. "I might," he said. "Once you tell me what that is."

"It is Lord Elrond's invitation—it came just this morning." The set the parchment back down.

Legolas peered at him, annoyed with his father's dramatic pause. "And?"

"And it appears he will be joining our chief emissary on his return home—he and his family will be joining us for the autumn celebrations and Feast of Starlight."

Galion's letter sat in Legolas's pocket. But Galion had stated that Elrond and Arwen had been the ones to volunteer their interest, so… "Why would I have something to do with it?" Legolas said. "Invitations are sent to be accepted, are they not?"

Thranduil slid his son a suspicious look. "The mortal is on their list of expected attendees."

Ah. Estel had never accompanied Lord Elrond to the Greenwood, or on any other diplomatic or leisurely excursion.

"You can be sure I had nothing to do with that, adar."

"Is that why you sent our finest emissary to Imladris on the eve of our busiest time of year?" Now, Thranduil had arched a brow. "Do not attempt to deny it. I see the truth written plainly in your eyes. You have failed to heed my warnings about this…unnatural preoccupation."

"If you'd like an example of unnatural preoccupations, father, I invite you to examine the conversation we are having right now." Legolas sat across from Thranduil's desk like a mirror image—one leg crossed over the other, hands intertwined. The others would scarcely tell them apart if Legolas let down his hair, and yet, someday he would—and he would be king. "If you do not trust me to choose my friends wisely, how do you expect to trust me with the governance of our kingdom?"

"It is not your selection of friends that worries me."

"What else could Estel be to me?"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. "That is the question, isn't it? Who is it that would drive you from Eryn Lasgalen for months, who would cause you to behave so unlike yourself—even so far as to raise your authority as prince of this realm to send an emissary to spy on your behalf? No, I believe I may answer that question myself—that girl is no one," his father spoke in a commanding tone. "She can be no one. She will be no one. There is no plea, no prayer, no argument to be made that will change that unyielding fact. Do you understand?"

Legolas pressed his lips into a thin, frustrated line.

"I asked you a question, Legolas," Thranduil spoke again. "Do you understand?"

"Galion is no spy, adar. We have this discussion each time I show the slightest interest in some young maiden—this is becoming a pattern," he said. "Do you think I am some light-hearted youngling throwing his heart left and right for any one of them to catch? Estel and I are friends, and we parted on ill terms. Tragedy has befallen her in my absence, and I will be glad to see her—if you're keen to show reckless disregard for your friends, do not ask me to do the same."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes until he donned a look like he was reading Legolas thoroughly—weighing the truth and searching for potential deceptions. "I see," he finally murmured. "How interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"That you are telling the truth."

"Of course I am," Legolas said, then rose from the chair. "I can assure you, father, with the utmost certainty—ulterior thoughts of this woman have not crossed my mind once."

Thranduil watched him rise. "Be sure that they don't," he said. "I will be most eager to meet this woman, who has snared your attention so keenly."


It had been so long since Legolas wore his royal robes. He stood before the mirror and angled his head at the streaming fabrics—nearly as long as the ones his father wore. Many other parties had already arrived from other lands, and the company of Lord Elrond was said to be arriving at any moment—he would have to leave, now, if he was to greet them on time.

Legolas looked up to meet his own gaze in the mirror and was satisfied to find it tightly controlled. With a final scan, he turned and exited his chambers, making his way through the Halls of Thranduil and out to the front gates. Ordinarily, the Elvenking greeted company from atop his throne—but all were graced by Thranduil's presence at the royal gates, through which the kingdom's most esteemed guests were welcomed inside. The courtyard and bed of waterfalls and streams bore a splendorous view of the Greenwood beyond, waves of trees stretching out past the halls of stone and wood.

Thranduil wore a cloaked robe not entirely unlike Legolas's, though his was more opulent. As emissaries and courtiers parted for Legolas to make his way forward, Thranduil stood unmoving at the top of the staircase leading down to the gates.

The king glanced back at his son's approach—then paused. Legolas met his father's eyes and furrowed a brow. "What?"

"You are dressed like a prince today," said Thranduil, shifting back to face the gates. "How unexpected. Suppose I might have to invite Lord Elrond more often to see you attending to your courtly appearance."

Legolas said nothing, for he had nothing to refute that with—it was true, he did not often dress in his formal attire.

There were no horns to announce the arrival of the company, only the gates slowly shifting with movement. Carved with wood and stone, their spires cast long shadows over the courtyards and staircases in the setting sun. Piles of leaves, which had been swirling with the winds, swept away from the entrance as they opened fully.

A company of horses and hooded elves entered through the gates, and Legolas kept his expression steady as he scanned the faces of all those he could see. Lord Elrond rode at the front, naturally—when the Evenstar lifted her gaze to the courtyard upon which Legolas and Thranduil stood, the Elvenking began his descent to them. But Legolas remained at the top stair, his gaze fastened to a rider that had yet to look up or throw her hood back.

At that moment, Legolas immediately recognized Galion as he strode up beside her—in fact, he was surprised as Galion suddenly spoke to the rider personably, even chuckled at whatever she had murmured beneath her hood.

When Galion scanned the stairs and spotted Legolas at the top, he waved—then paused with an odd expression.

As though he, too, had noticed that Legolas had dressed like a prince today.

Galion lowered his hand and turned his attention back to the rider, muttering something before indicating to the top of the stairs. A clear, autumn wind blew through the courtyard, scattering the leaves like chips of gold as the rider lifted her gaze.

Estel's expression was solemn—controlled as always, but with the whispers of a smile. Only then did Legolas stride down the stairs, stopping beside his father, looking between the company.

"Mae l'ovannen," Lord Elrond greeted the king with the utmost reverence, bowing his head in respect. "Your kingdom is as beautiful this time of year as it always is."

"Yes. Le suilon—le nathlam hi," Thranduil answered. And we are glad to welcome you here.

"Mae g'ovannen, Legolas," Galion said as he approached the prince, clamping a hand on his shoulder in greeting. "I hear you've been busy, my friend."

"That is one word for it," Legolas said, then swiveled his eyes in the direction of Arwen and the hooded lady Estel beside her.

Estel hadn't looked in his direction, but he was satisfied to find the nature of her diversion. She had noticed the Halls of Thranduil and gazed upon them with that wondrous look in her eye—not a hint of the grief he imagined she'd been enduring for many weeks.

Estel only turned her attention back when Legolas stepped back from Galion to approach them. But it was Arwen who smiled politely and spoke first, "Mae g'ovannen, Legolas."

"Gi suilon." Legolas offered the polite greeting, then smiled as Estel curtly bowed her head—hiding her face. "Hiril vuin, iston i nif gin—peditham hi sui vellyn?" My lady, I believe I know your face—may we speak as friends?

Immediately, Legolas recognized the flecks of familiarity in Estel's expression, the taut enthusiasm she held in her steady grip—it only loosened when he smiled. She took in a steady breath, as though it was requiring some effort, and returned the smile. "It's good to see you, your highness."

If it were anyone else, Legolas might not have thought twice of the open familiarity of that statement. But even with the eyes of the kingdom's subjects on them, Legolas smiled broadly at her. "You are most welcome here."

"Welcome, indeed," Thranduil's voice appeared, towering behind Legolas. Estel turned her eyes toward the Elvenking and widened them briefly—then bowed her head again. "You must be Estel Undomiel, I have heard much about you."

Estel seemed to be having trouble looking the resplendent Elvenking in the eyes. As her mouth fell open and closed, Legolas recalled the last time he'd seen such shyness upon her: decades ago, when she was only a child, when he and Galion happened upon her walking with Arwen throughout Imladris. They were the great elven lords she was to meet for the very first time.

Legolas didn't bother suppressing his smile, wondering inwardly if Estel regretted being too old to hide behind her mother's skirt.

"Not to worry," Thranduil spoke again. "I do tend to have this effect on people."

Everyone around them wore looks of endearment, including Lord Elrond—when Legolas looked over, he could even swear he caught the traces of amusement in his father's eyes. Everyone was smiling, not like the coldness of the Lorien elves.

Legolas stepped toward Estel, drawing her attention away. The tips of her cheeks were tinged with the faintest brush of crimson, which deepened with his approach. "Estel," he said, turning to his side and offering an arm. "Welcome to Eryn Lasgalen."


"He's right, you know," Legolas spoke as they strode separately from the caravan of arrivals, heading toward the section of the halls that was dedicated to guests. Lord Elrond walked ahead with King Thranduil, and Galion had taken to walking with Lady Arwen and a number of other emissaries. "My father—he does have that effect on people."

"Don't remind me," Estel breathed out. "Your father must think I'm a fool."

"Oh, quite the opposite—you'll come to find he's got the egoist." Legolas leaned in conspiratorially. "Stifling young maidens beyond words is nothing but flattery to him."

Again, that crimson brush returned to Estel's cheeks, but only for a fleeting moment. He could see it in the light of the golden lanterns hanging between the trees that surrounded them on either side. Seeing as they were at the far end of the Halls of Thranduil, there were far more of them here—and a small path for them to walk along. The sun had nearly set overhead, casting the sky in a lilac glow, the shadows of silhouetted leaves dancing across the ground with each gust of wind.

Legolas looked down at Estel's hand curled around his arm, then lifted his own to cover it. "Estel," he murmured quietly. "I have been worried since I received your letter." Wariness filled her eyes—different from the toils of travel. "I'm sorry I could not come to see you. I can't imagine enduring all that you have in solitude."

"You don't have to apologize," Estel answered immediately, as though the sentiment rose on instinct. "You have plenty of responsibilities here, I shouldn't be one of them."

"As long as you are here, I would like you not to think that way," said Legolas. "If you should need anything, don't hesitate to come and find me… I'm often hiding in the topmost levels of the library—don't tell my father."

She smirked. "That'll be the day—when I finally verbally speak to him. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll find better things to say."

Legolas chuckled. "He also has other concerns to occupy himself with. He's the high king of this entire realm—which you should consider at your disposal. You could not have picked a better time to visit the Greenwood."

"I believe you—it's really beautiful here," Estel said, throwing a look down at Legolas's hand atop hers, then at their surroundings. "It… doesn't seem much like Caras Galadhon."

He wondered if she had noticed how little attention anyone was paying to the both of them—as far as they were concerned, she was a guest of the crown and nothing more. Estel was undoubtedly keen enough to perceive that.

"You'll find there are many ways our kingdoms differ," Legolas said. "Just don't go climbing any trees without my recommendation—you'll find they're not all easy to survey, nor straightforward to climb."

A pause of silence. "And what would be your first?"

Legolas looked at her. "My first what?"

"Recommendation."

He arched a brow. "Rest—that is my recommendation to you tonight."

"Is that a refusal to entertain your newly arrived guest?" Estel smiled. "I suppose I'll take care of it myself, then."

"Estel." Legolas slowed them to a stop, facing her with a solemn look. "You've had a long journey and have never been here before. The terrain of these halls and all the kingdom is far removed from what you've seen before—I don't recommend you go about exploring on your own."

"I believe we've had this conversation before. Are you inviting yourself on my misadventures, again?" she said, but Legolas could see the hints of tiredness in her face.

"You're not joking, are you?" he spoke slowly, almost as though he were thinking out loud. "Despite the exhaustion written upon your face… I can only assume you've missed me. I did wonder if I was the only one."

Silence floated between them for a moment, both standing at the edge of the path and peering at one another.

Finally, Estel cleared her throat and turned away. "I've missed adventuring," she said as they continued their walk. "There's not much of that in Imladris when you know the woods and cliffs and waterfalls as well as I do."

Legolas blinked—picturing those woods and cliffs and waterfalls. The idea of her climbing and jumping off them sent familiar shudders throughout him.

"So, are there any adventures in this realm I should know of?" she added.

"Plenty. But they are best suited for sunlight."

"What about moonlight?" Estel looked up at the sky, the full moon starting to glow with the coming of nightfall.

Legolas's mind strayed from the path, out from the Halls of Thranduil, and to—

"There is one place," Legolas said. "It's a bit of a private journey. And destination."

"More private than my journey to Methelda's cottage?"

He found the memory of that cottage was tinged with sadness. "Most certainly not," he said. "But it requires some stealth."

"Stealth is best suited for nighttime."

Legolas looked at her, feeling the beginnings of a smile—the flutter of excitement. "My Lady Estel, are you suggesting I sneak about my own kingdom in the dead of night?"

"I don't know, am I?"

The prince glanced in the direction of their company. "When might you slip away?"

Estel spoke as though she had the answer ready, "Just past midnight, I think… it'll give me time to rest, as well."

"Past midnight." Legolas repeated. "Well, I hope you brought something to climb in."

"Obviously."


The air had cooled considerably come nighttime.

Dressed plainly in comfortable woodland attire, Legolas walked briskly through the trees.

It felt familiar—striding over fallen leaves with great anticipation, sneaking far off the beaten path so as not to be seen—except now, Legolas was doing it in his own kingdom. And there was an odd sensation of comfort that came with the idea, adding to the relief of having a bit of fun after weeks of endless toil. When was the last time his friends had brought him to such activities and elicited such simple excitements—perhaps a little adventure?

The thought made Legolas smile as he came upon the residence where Estel was staying. On the edge of the Halls of Thranduil, it wasn't high up in the trees, but it wasn't quite on the ground either—rather, it was atop a small cliffside beside a waterfall, which was to be their meeting place.

He was early… Legolas strode leisurely to one of the nearby tree roots and settled comfortably in wait of his companion. When the soft padding of feet joined the cadence of the waterfall, he rose again, finding he'd dozed off a bit.

Estel emerged from the shadows into the moonlight, shrouded in a cowl that concealed her features aptly—but not so much that he didn't see the faint excitement that she wore.

She slowed a little as she neared him, both taking a second to absorb the moment. "I know what you're thinking," Legolas said, grinning. "This feels familiar, doesn't it?"

Estel reached up to tuck her hood further around her face and gave an unrestrained smile. "You'd think it'd been more than a few months."

"Over half a year, by my calculations," Legolas said. "Are you tired?"

"A little. But not tired enough."

"Let's go, then."

Legolas followed Estel's momentum as she drew to his side, and the pair of them were off—fast and full of purpose through the forest of trees and rock, like they had somewhere important to be with the wind at their backs.

As far as the prince was concerned, that was entirely the case—there was nowhere more important for him to be tonight.

"You haven't told me where we're going," Estel said as they continued.

Legolas arched a brow. "Did you divulge that to me on our first misadventure?"

"I didn't exactly invite you to come with me, did I?" She said. "And anyway, I think I had more reason to be secretive."

"As I recall, you did invite me," Legolas said. "And you will find this place is very secretive to me—you'll be the first to see it in a very long time."

Estel gave him a curious look, full of wonder and humor. "You've piqued my interest, your highness… though you had me at 'climbing.'"

Legolas didn't think twice on it—he simply reached out and took Estel's hand, pulling her into more of a running pace than the one they were at. Their footsteps hissed across the grass as readily as the wind masking their movements in the treetops above. Their destination wasn't too far ahead.

Legolas brought them to a stop at the base of a waterfall—to the unwitting eye, these cliffs might have appeared to be nothing more than rock. In fact, they were a series of trees and twisting, sprawling tree roots intertwined with the rock.

Estel had yet to let go of his hand, and Legolas brought her closer to point up at the ledge high above where they were. "Can you climb that high?"

Estel pulled her hand from his and rested both on her hips, giving him a wry look. "'Can I climb that high?'" she repeated ironically. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"You've never been to this kingdom—I assume you've never seen terrain like this before."

"I've definitely seen rock and trees before." She scanned the wall, surveying it closely. "Any terrain can be mastered so long as you have the eye for it and know what to look for before you attempt it. Weak spots, slippery spots—any inconsistencies and things like that." Estel nodded. "Think I have it—race you to the top?"

"No," he said immediately. On this, Legolas was firm. "Absolutely not. We climb with the utmost care."

Estel smiled at him. "Is that a command, your highness?"

"As you are in my kingdom, you may consider it one."

She snorted, taking a step toward the wall. "Someone should have told me I'd be subjected to such strict rules."

"You'd have come anyway."

Estel paused, turning a look at him over her shoulder—she was smiling. "Come, your highness," she said slowly. "We haven't got all night."

Of course they did, but Legolas wasn't going to argue the point. It took the better part of thirty minutes to climb all the way to the ledge—far shorter than he was anticipating. It was impressive, how fast Estel had managed to move. She was the first to reach the top of the ledge, and by the time Legolas joined her, he found her standing ramrod straight in awe of what she was seeing.

A table, a small writing desk, and even a bookshelf were all arranged around the small space, all of it protected from the elements by the overhanging rock—as much as it could be, anyway. Branches had managed to grow between the fissures, lending a touch of nature to the space. A crescent divan spanned the middle—if the vast thing could be called that—and was the single most elegant arrangement of pillows that graced the kingdom, strewn with blankets and books from his last visit.

"What… is this?" Estel breathed out, her eyes wide as she took it all in, pulling her hood down for better visibility.

"A cliffside study, you might call it—it's where I come to truly disappear," Legolas said as he approached the lamp hanging on the wall, lighting it—then repeating with a few of the others. The whole space became awash in dim, golden light. "I can't afford it most days. You wouldn't believe how tiresome it is, always being needed by everyone."

"I don't think I'd ever leave if I had something like this…" Estel muttered, wandering further into the space.

Legolas approached the table where a bottle of miruvor stood, then looked back at her over his shoulder. "I never accounted for guests," he said, gesturing to the lone glass on the table.

Estel turned back, noting the glass, then laughed. "Well, you really weren't kidding," she said as she approached. "You really do come here to disappear—is that your way of telling me you don't plan on sharing?"

Sharing? Legolas filled a deep glass for himself and then drank it, gesturing to it when he set it back down. "Help yourself."

While she poured herself the wine, Legolas made his way to the divan and sat down, relaxing against the back and crossing one ankle over the other. "You wouldn't believe the trouble it took, getting all this up here," he said with closed eyes.

Estel was silent for a time, sipping the miruvor and moving about the space—no doubt acquainting herself, looking through the bookshelf and at all the spare parchments he'd left atop the desk. It was all work he'd brought with him on his sparse visits.

The sound of pouring wine came again, and after taking another drink, Estel made her way to the divan and sat down a bit away—burrowing into the pillows and lifting one of the nearby books. The waterfall sounded adequately distant from here, and Legolas savored the incandescent peace he hadn't felt in months.

"Ow," Estel yelped, following a heavy thump. Legolas opened his eyes, looking over and finding the book had slipped from her hands, knocking her in the face.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said humorously as she tossed it away—she didn't seem in pain. In fact, she was smiling as she sat up and faced him. "So, your highness—tell me, how have you been?"

Legolas turned his head atop the pillows to look at her. "That question is better directed at you."

"What do you mean?"

"We did not part on pleasantries—it has plagued my mind these past months."

"Ah." Estel raised both brows. "You mean when you embarrassed me in front of all of Lorien and then left me to weather the sidelong looks and condemning remarks?"

Legolas frowned as he sat up slowly, anger filling him already. "Condemning remarks?"

"Word does spread quickly across kingdoms, your highness—particularly when princes are involved," Estel said pointedly, swaying the slightest bit. "Did you think I was so obstinate about the secrecy of our friendship for no reason?"

"No, I did not think that." Legolas had to think about it a moment. "I merely assumed there might be ill-favored glances in your direction—I did not think that anyone would dare to make outright statements against the daughter of the Evenstar."

"Adopted daughter," Estel clarified, waving a finger through the air. "Unsightly mortal fledgling. Ungrateful child. Exploiter. Those were some of the names I heard whispered when I walked by—at least, when I was still invited to social occasions with my mother. I don't think anyone tried hard to keep them secret—though they did lower their voices a bit in her presence."

The prince's stomach sank. "Estel…" He reached out for her, but stopped—ashamed. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea our friendship would ostracize you. If anything, I thought it might elevate you."

Estel shrugged. "How could an elf understand the plight of a human?"

"When I am king, I will be sure to establish fair treatment and make clear my disdain for such prejudice."

Estel smiled at him, swaying a bit. "When you are king…" She inched closer across the divan and sat before him, crossing her legs beneath her. "When you are king, will you let your pretty hair down, like your father?"

Legolas blinked. "What?"

He did not stop her reaching out and taking one of his braids in her fingers. "Your hair is so pretty."

A faint smile touched the corner of his lip. "This is becoming a pattern," he said. "Though I suppose you could find worse fascinations at the bottom of a wine bottle."

Estel undid one braid and moved on to the other—then shifted to her knees and reached back to pull the final one to the front. Hovering above him a bit, there was a playfulness to Estel's drunken expression—but Legolas's heart weighed heavy in his chest. Her hair tumbled around her in waves, but there was kindness in her eyes, her smile—how could anyone be so cruel to her?

The miruvor had less of an effect on Legolas than it did on her, but it was just enough to loosen the tight restraint he kept on his emotions. The prince reached up and took her hands, lowering them before him—she was half-finished with the final braid and looked mildly discontented to be torn from her task. "Estel," he said, peering up at her. "I am so sorry."

She blinked slowly once, then twice. "What?"

"I am so sorry that I left you surrounded by unfriendly eyes—that I did not come to you when Methelda passed away."

That took a moment to register. Estel swallowed thickly, a sheen of wetness glistening over her eyes. "I'm not your responsibility."

"But you are my friend," he said, then kissed her hands. "My dearest friend. And I should have fought harder to reach you. I am so sorry that I didn't."

Despite the glistening of her eyes, Estel smiled and pulled her hands away, returning to work with the final braid. "Stop that. You're going to be a king someday, your highness—you should save the fighting for more worthy battles," she said as she pulled the last of it apart. "There. Not only will you look the part, you'll have to act the part and choose your battles wisely."

Legolas peered up at her as she combed her fingers through his hair, the tips brushing along the sides of his face as she arranged it.

"All finished," Estel breathed happily when she was finished, rocking back onto her heels. "Now you look like a king." She scrambled off the couch, wobbling a bit as she stepped in front of him a few paces away. "And a king must be bowed to."

"Don't stray too close to the edge," Legolas said, though the edge was still a ways away from her.

"You and your concerns," Estel said, then swept her hands out on either side of her. But when she tried to curtsy, leaning a little too much on one leg, her balance gave out—and she plopped down onto the ground instead.

Legolas suppressed a laugh. "That was the worst curtsy I've ever seen."

Estel laughed—bright and unbridled—and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, I know—but I haven't laughed like this in months."

She laid down on the ground.

When moments went by that she didn't get up, Legolas spoke, "Don't you want to get up?"

"Not at all."

"That doesn't look comfortable."

"It's definitely not."

"Then you shouldn't lay there like that." No answer. "Estel?"

She groaned—it was half a laugh. "Oh, come get me, then, if you're so bothered." Estel pointed at him. "You and your commands. Come and retrieve me if it concerns you so, your majesty."

The prince—the king—rose slowly from the divan and knelt at her side. Tucking one arm under her neck and the other under her knees, Legolas lifted Estel from the ground. Her arms went around his neck, and in his own slight inebriation, he did not bother to look away from her—and why should he? Estel was pleasant to look upon when she was smiling.

He sat back down. Estel glanced around, smiling wryly. "You were supposed to set me on the divan, your majesty," she said, swinging her feet.

Legolas wasn't smiling. "I am so glad you're here," he said instead, with the utmost relief and sincerity. "I'm glad Lord Elrond made the decision to come and to bring you here."

Estel held a finger to her lips and shook her head.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"It means I asked them to come."

Legolas's eyes widened. "What?"

"I don't have many friends, your majesty," Estel began, pausing for a beat. "And apparently, when I make them, I form the most unsavory attachments." She reached up and flicked the tip of his ear. Her voice tightened and wobbled, that sheen of glass returning to her eyes. "So when I'm separated from them, I begin to miss them—I miss them so agonizingly, I could cry at any moment during the day. But I can't, because I am watched and questioned when I don't want to be."

His chest tightened so much, it was almost painful. Legolas let out a breath and drew her into an embrace. Estel's arms tightened around his neck and shoulders, and he felt her chest heave once—just once.

"No one would question you here," he murmured, and Estel pulled back until their foreheads were touching—a stray tear or two had escaped down her cheeks. "You do not have to leave. Glorfindel resides in the house of Elrond—at times, my father's emissaries travel to other realms and stay there for many years. You do not have to leave if you don't want to."

The sadness didn't leave her eyes. If anything, they grew heavier as Estel lifted a hand to his curve of his jaw. "I just wanted to see you."

He peered up at her. "Now you see me—and what have you found?"

She paused. "Nothing," Estel murmured. "You look exactly the same…"

It took a moment for Legolas to realize that there was more to her words than was stated plainly. Before he could ask, Estel pulled back and slid off of him. He leaned in the direction she moved, as though the closeness might linger, but it did not. A few more tears streamed down her cheeks, and he leaned forward to wipe them away instead.

Their hands clashed as she tried to do the same, laughing a bit. "Oh, I shouldn't have drunk so much. They're going to be looking for me in the morning."

Legolas turned and took one of the blankets off the other side of the divan, then passed it to her. "Don't worry. We can climb back down at dawn."

Estel took the blanket and held it against her, laying back down against the pillows. "I'm not going to sleep, yet."

Legolas joined her, laying down a bit away. "Neither am I."

"You still haven't told me how you've been," Estel said, reaching out for his hand.

Legolas took it and smiled. "Then, let me tell you all about it…"


Drunk Estel is my favorite Estel. And she's preoccupied with Legolas's hair because… who wouldn't be?

I made an ambiance called "Legolas's Cliffside Study," I have a feeling I'll be using it a lot.

Thank you so much for reading :)