Chapter Text
It had been a long night for Legolas and Duinor, sitting outside the king’s sick room in the healer’s wing, waiting for news. Duinor spent some of the time apologising.
“My prince, I could not lie to my king; even had he not reminded me there are penalties for treason…”
“Do not worry, Duinor.” Legolas shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and rub his eyes. His hands were shaking. “It would have been said sooner or later; Adar woke while Fírnen was lowering him to the ground. And had questioned me, also, concerning dragons. I found it hardly easier to side-step the questions.”
“I understand that you were hard-pressed?”
Legolas nodded.
“But for Fírnen, I doubt we would have survived intact.”
“Ai, my prince…!”
“Never mind; it did not happen, we did not die. The only injury is to my Adar, and, let’s face it, his head’s harder than his heart; he will be fine.” He lowered his voice and repeated it to himself. “He will be fine.”
“We must decide what we can do, my prince,” Duinor said gently. “How best to satisfy your father’s curiosity, how to allay his fears… how, perhaps, to play on his sense of justice and fairness…”
“And even on his weaknesses, I suppose…” Legolas nodded to himself. “Duinor, I remember when we were in Imladris… Lord Elrond was most helpful once he believed my father was supportive of Arya and her friend; he met Fírnen and healed him…”
Duinor managed a weak grin.
“And I suppose my lord King, once he knows that Lord Elrond has met with our friend; will not wish to be seen to do less than a peredhel…”
“There is also the fact that Lord Glorfindel knows of Fírnen, has seen him fight, and my father holds him in the highest esteem. All will be well, I am sure. As long as nobody tries to help me explain Fírnen to Adar, I am sure it will be well.”
An hour passed, two. Servants brought them food and drink, and Duinor tipped his head back with a sigh. “Someone should be out to tell you something soon, my prince, surely?”
Another hour passed for Duinor and Legolas before Healer Hanben emerged, wiping his hands.
“He’s awake. He wants you… not you,” Hanben nodded to Legolas, “he wants the warrior first.”
“My prince…”
“Go, Duinor. See what our king wants.” Legolas turned to Healer Hanben, unwilling to let the healer’s rudeness pass. ‘Tell me, Hanben. How many decades have you worked for us?”
“Four, now, I think.”
“And are you happy here?”
“All things considered, I think so.”
“Good. Well, then. If you wish to make it to five decades, if you wish to continue to be happy here, you would do well to bear in mind whom you are speaking to, and of, and for. While it may be acceptable, in the hurry of attending to the injured, for you to be permitted a certain leeway in your forms of address, there is no excuse for ill-manners.”
“You are probably tired and worried. Well, I have other things to do.”
Hanben turned on his heel and retreated, leaving Legolas staring after him in disbelief and making a mental resolve never to become injured while Hanben was on duty.
“You sent for me, my king?”
“Indeed I did. Approach and be seated.”
Thranduil looked tired and pale, Duinor thought. He wore a bandage around his head with the same dignity with which he wore his summer crown, and if his eyes were heavy and dark-circled, well, it had been a trying night for the king.
Duinor sat on the chair indicated and rested his hands on his knees, waiting for the king to speak again.
“Is my son outside?”
“He is, sire.”
“Good. When you leave, you can send him in to me. But first, I want you to tell me everything you know, or have been told, about this… skulblaka of Arya’s. Including what relation it is to the dragons we know here in Middle Earth. Take your time; I am not going anywhere for several hours at least.”
Thranduil’s head ached.
It was already aching from the fall and bleeding and subsequent ministrations of Healer Hanben, but now Duinor had simply compounded the problem… perhaps he should have asked for a summary of the facts, rather than the entire history of Duinor’s relationship with the creature.
The archer was waiting for some response, some reaction from the king.
“So… this creature, this skulblaka, this… Fírnen?”
“Yes, sire. Fírnen.”
“You would count him a friend and an ally?”
“Indeed. He has never been anything other than protective and helpful, in my opinion. He… the prince said, but for Fírnen, he would have been hard-pressed to defend you, my king.”
“I see. Or rather, I do not… why was the creature there in the first place?”
“I… he has been sheltering in the caves to the north, where he has become quite fond of the taste of spider, I hear…”
“Something in the creature’s favour, I suppose…”
“I mentioned that it is possible to communicate by thought with him; by this means, Legolas summoned help, Fírnen made me aware of your situation and enabled me to alert the healers… I would assume also that Arya knows what happened…”
“Oh, how wonderful, no doubt I shall have the bride-to-be in here pleading for leniency for her pet…”
“I have to confess, sire, that I would join my voice to hers - Fírnen…”
“Is a dragon, Duinor, for all you call him a ‘scale-flapper’, a big green friend… a dragon, such as burned our forests and our people, a destructive entity with the hand of Morgoth in its making…”
“But, sire…”
“Enough, Duinor. This is not something I will discuss with you; I thank you for your time and for sharing your information and your impressions of the creature. You may send my son in to me now. And then you may retire.”
Duinor swallowed, rising to his feet and bowing.
“Yes, my king,” he said. “As you command.”
Legolas looked up as Duinor came out, raising his head as he saw the expression on Duinor’s face.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Your father the king happened,” the warrior replied. “He questioned me about Fírnen… but I do not think it went well… he wants you now, my prince.”
“Well, my thanks for the warning.”
Pushing into the king’s room, Legolas smiled.
“Ada? How’s the head now?”
“Unpleasant.”
“And what did you do to poor Duinor? He left looking as if his next stop were the cells…”
Thranduil quirked an eyebrow, then winced as the movement jarred his injury.
“He seemed very quick to speak up on behalf of your beloved and her pet, ‘Las.”
Now Legolas winced.
“I’m not sure either Fírnen or Arya would appreciate the term, Ada…”
“Legolas, consider a moment. What manner of king do you perceive me to be? Am I a strong monarch who would ruthlessly eradicate any potential threat to his kingdom and his people without a qualm, even if there is no absolute proof of danger? Or am I wise and just, a person who would not willingly injure the cherished pet of another monarch, even one in exile? Choose for me, ion-nin, why not?”
“Isn’t it possible to be both?”
“You know how it is here, you know how beleaguered we are. My father Oropher would, at the first hint of such a creature within our boundaries, have sent out the guard, armed and determined to return with its head, and were he later to have it proven to him that the beast was as gentle as a summer breeze, he would not repent. Now, you know I have no reason to love dragonkind…”
“Fírnen is a skulblaka, Father…”
“Fírnen is a dragon, Legolas. Semantics will not help. Permit me to continue… I have no love of the species, as well you know. But I am belatedly aware that when I invited Arya and her friends to make their home with us, I inadvertently, and most accidentally, invited Fírnen too. I learn there is a bond between them, and harm to him would equate to harm to her…” He paused to glower. “For whatever manner of king history will record me as, I will stand by this: I am an honourable king. My word is my bond. I rule alone, Legolas, but any deviation from accepted security protocols would not go down well with the guard and there are some elements, namely Tauriel, who would be most eager to attack and destroy any dragons she may find wandering in the woods and then look surprised if she is reprimanded for her initiative…”
Legolas looked at his father with wary eyes.
“Father…?”
“I do not want a dragon in my kingdom, ‘Las, but if it were a pet dragon - a young one, not yet grown up - and you happened to be avowed to its owner rather than just betrothed to her, then the matter would merit further discussion before any action could be taken. Even if my first impulse is to get my swords and go after the threat myself, I would then have to stay my hand… So it would be wise in you to make sure none provoke me, this day, into specifically rephrasing my initial promise which was, after all, given under somewhat false pretences.” The king sighed and lifted a hand to his head. “But even less than I want a dragon in my kingdom do I want my son to be unhappy or, worse, avowed to an elleth who is mentally deranged because her pet has been killed. So I think you had better go now, and keep Arya and all her people away from me today, and we will meet, you and I, at the Starlight celebrations tonight and not before. And now you had better go and leave me to rest.”
“Ada? Does this mean… do you mean Fírnen can stay?”
Thranduil sighed again and closed his eyes.
“No, ‘Las, it just means I will not order the guard to kill him on sight and I will wait to be persuaded that the creature is neither inherently or genetically evil. Now please go. I had thought it impossible for my head to ache any more than it did before you arrived, but it seems I was mistaken.”
Legolas got to his feet and tipped his head to his father as he left. Outside, Duinor was waiting.
“I thought you might need some company,” he said. “Is the king… quite well…?”
“Do you know? I am really not certain.” Legolas shook his head and clapped Duinor on the shoulder. “Come on. I’m exhausted. I’m sure there are at least a couple of hours’ reverie left in the night. For someone, at least.”
She was worried, the next morning when she woke up. Fírnen had told her that Thranduil had woken for a moment, whilst he was carefully carrying him down to the forest floor.
I felt his eyes on me, Fírnen had told her. It was something that worried her a great deal, considering what Legolas had told her regarding Thranduil’s view of dragons.
How much trouble is this going to cause? She couldn’t help but wonder about that. Arya knew she shouldn’t be worrying today, but she felt no other way at that moment.
A knock on her door made her flinch, but when she answered, it was only Däthedr, whom she let in.
“What’s got you so edgy?” Däthedr asked.
Arya turned to look at Däthedr, as she paced about in the room. She knew there had to be some way to handle the situation that had occurred last night. If anyone could help her at least to calm down enough to think rationally, it was him. “Fírnen… and something that happened last night, Däthedr. I have no idea how I’m going to explain about him.”
Däthedr raised an eyebrow as he studied her. “What are you talking about?”
Arya quickly relayed what Fírnen had told her. “This all worries me because the King does not look with friendly eyes toward Fírnen’s kind, Däthedr.”
The older ellon frowned. "What about that makes you so worried?"
Arya shook her head. "I do not know how to talk to him about Fírnen, if I am asked to explain. Legolas warned me that things might not go well when Fírnen is discovered, and he was, last night."
“While there are a few here who have met him who aren’t from Alagaësia, Däthedr, I am not sure how much help they will be. Of those who arrived from Imladris, only Lord Glorfindel and the twins have met him. From here in Mirkwood, there is only Duinor and Legolas aside from our own friends.”
She did not know if it would be enough to convince Thranduil, and that was something that bothered her considerably. After knowing, what it was that Thranduil disliked - perhaps there might be a better word really - about Fírnen’s kind, aside from them being Morgoth’s creation, she could see his side of things. Especially after being hit by Thorn’s flames!
“This is going to be hard, Däthedr, and I can only hope for a positive outcome.”
Däthedr nodded. “We will see how things go, Arya. You may be worrying over nothing.”
Arya shook her head. “Knowing what I know, I cannot believe that, Däthedr.”
"Things will work out, Arya, you'll see," Däthedr said, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Calm yourself, dóttir, a way will be found. That I am sure of.”
She did calm, only to raise an eyebrow. “You’ve not called me that since I first took on my yawe.”
Däthedr chuckled. “So I haven’t. Even though you’re not of my blood, you’re as dear to me as Auisia is. You always will be.”
"I am glad to know that," Arya replied. She knew things had to work out. It was just the waiting that she did not like. She would not go to talk about Fírnen without being asked.
"We will simply wait, Arya, until we he hear from someone else what has happened," Däthedr told her.
"Not that that's going to be easy," Arya replied.
Legolas woke from reverie to find himself barely refreshed. Well, he would have to manage. There was much to do today.
It was already later than his usual time for rising, but then, it had been a very long night. He washed and dressed and took himself off to breakfast, hoping to avoid company at the tables.
Out of luck. Elladan and Elrohir were still at the tables, and waved him across enthusiastically, so that it was with some relief that he found himself instead waylaid by his father’s chief advisor.
“My prince, there are many matters to be discussed concerning tonight and your father our king, I hear, will not be released from the healer’s wing until much later today…”
“Well, join me while I break fast. What’s the matter?”
“We need to go through the details of the feast, the order of the celebrations - is Master Lindir going to sing just at the avowal or at the Starlight Festival too? What of your avowing, do you have your words ready? Does the other party? Do her people know what is to take place?”
“Would you really be troubling my father with all of this?”
“Perhaps not quite all…”
“Make sure plenty of meat-free foodstuffs are available. Yes, Lindir will sing all for us… what else?”
It was an hour before Legolas escaped, but at least it was an hour spent sitting down and eating, and by the time the arrangements were sorted, the twins had left the hall themselves and he was free of the fear of being side-tracked by their exuberant curiosity.
He found his way through the palace to Arya’s rooms and knocked on the door. It swung open.
Both Arya and Däthedr fell silent at the knock on the door.
"Come and find me later if you need to, dóttir," Däthedr said, before he rose. "For now, I will go see to some other things." He walked over to the door to open it, before greeting Legolas. "I won't linger here, but, I'm not the one you're looking for am I, Legolas?" He went out into the corridor to head away.
“Arya, we need to talk,” Legolas said.
Arya nodded. "Thanks Däthedr." She watched him go, looking at Legolas after. "Yes I think we do."
“My father was hurt last night, I expect you know?” He went on without waiting for a response. “And he saw Fírnen, and in spite of my trying to blame it on his fall, he asked Duinor if there was a dragon. Of course, he couldn’t duck out of a specific question.”
“I was in the healer hall for hours until they’d let me see him… and he questioned Duinor first, again. I’ve… I did what I could… I think, if we’re careful… it might be all right… but at least he hasn’t called the guard out to sweep the forest, as my grandfather King Oropher would have done…”
“I know Fírnen was seen by him, Legolas,” Arya replied. “He told me, but then again, he wouldn’t be able to hide that from me.” That was something that would have been impossible for her dragon to do. “I’m glad to hear that nothing bad’s come of it yet, but really, what else can we do?”
‘Today, nothing except keep away from my father; he says he’ll see me - us - tonight at the festival. He’s pointed out that once we’re avowed it will be more difficult to take any extreme action. Arya, I think he really wants this to be all right. But… have you seen his face? It’s… what happened to him, it was terrible. Sometimes, however much you want to do the right thing, all your instincts rise up and make it so hard…” he shook his head. “Glorfindel would be a good advocate for Fírnen. Not so much Elladan and Elrohir, I think… But Adar knows Fírnen saved us last night, he knows he didn’t have to help. He’s trying, Arya, I’m sure of it.”
“No, I have not, melleth, and I do not wish to.” Arya considered his next words quite carefully. “It almost sounds as though he does want things to work, despite how difficult this would be for him to understand.” She paused. “No, the twins don’t know Fírnen well enough. Glorfindel, however, I can agree about.”
“Well, unless someone makes him really angry, Adar can keep the glamour in place, so I hope you won’t have to see… about the twins, I was thinking more that, whenever he sees them, Adar shudders… they are too vocal for his liking… So, I do not think there is anything more we can do about Adar and Fírnen at the moment.”
"Ever since he told me what was going on out in the forest last night, I was worried," she replied. "For now, I am glad that he is safe."
“Yes. If you need me, send for me - there’s a lot to do today and now Adar isn’t here to make sure it gets done, I have to take the reins.” He leaned in to kiss her lightly. “I’ll come and fetch you for the festival, if I don’t see you before.”
"If I need to, I will," she replied, returning the kiss. "If not, I'll see you tonight."
Arya looked at Auisia, once she'd dressed. "Well what do you think?"
Most of the dress, which reached to Arya's ankles, was pale blue, with long sleeves. The sleeves however as well as the neckline had been covered in rather ornate Fírnen green embroidery. A pattern of vines and stars made up the embroidery, the markings of Arya's own people, which she knew none here in Mirkwood had seen before.
Her black hair was loose from the braids she was used to by now, with the diamond circlet resting on her head to hold her hair out of her eyes.
"You look beautiful, fricai. I doubt Legolas will be able to keep his eyes off you," Auisia replied. "I had better go freshen myself up. I shall see you there."
Arya grinned, hugging her closest friend. "That you will."
Auisia headed off leaving Arya in her room alone.
“Are you sure?” Elrohir asked.
“Yes.” Legolas fastened the ties at the neck of his linen shirt. “Pass me my coat, one of you.”
“Really sure?” Elladan, this time.
“Yes.’
“Really, really?”
“Really?”
Legolas began to growl as he shrugged the coat on.
“Really.”
“We mean, are you absolutely…”
“…totally…”
“…utterly sure? It’s a big step…”
“It is also a big step from the top of the watch flet to the forest floor, but if you do not cease asking me if I’m sure, I will push you both off the top of it!”
Elladan shrugged.
“We only asked, it’s…”
“…traditional…”
“Fine, good, thank you for continuing this age old tradition. Now, please, go away, I will be late meeting Arya.”
Legolas held the door wide and all but shoved the twins through it, locking it after them. He took a moment to sit, to breathe, to make sure he had the ring he would exchange with Arya… then he made sure he had his bow and quiver at his back, for the Starlight Festival would take place in a clearing in the forest, and although patrols had been out on sweeps, it was still Mirkwood and one could not be too careful…
Done, and ready, he tugged at the hem of his coat to make it sit tidily on his shoulders, and went to collect his future fëa-mate from her rooms.
Legolas knocked on the door, and it the handle turned as it opened, and he looked Arya over. Knowing she didn’t set much store in finery, he was impressed at the effort she had obviously made, the pale blue gown, the diamond circlet sparkling starlight on her midnight hair.
Legolas swallowed, almost overwhelmed by her beauty. “You look nice,” he said, recovering and smiling. “Shall we go?”
”Nice?" Arya smiled as she saw him once more. "I am ready to go, yes." She kissed his cheek.
Thranduil’s head had finally stopped aching around mid-afternoon and by early evening he was feeling pretty well recovered. True to his word, though, he had servants bring whatever he needed for the festival and stayed in the healer’s wing to prepare, thus ensuring he would not inadvertently cross paths with anyone who might accidentally mention Fírnen to him and precipitating an awkward situation.
For the matter of Fírnen was by no means clear cut. In the history of Middle Earth, the only good dragon was a dead dragon - he had the scars, his kingdom had the scars to prove it. Creatures of Morgoth, forever corrupt. It was clearly madness to permit such a creature to live, if one could prevent it.
And yet…
This appeared to be a helpful creature (he did not think of it as tame; his early description of the creature as a pet had been borne out of the pain of his headache and his wish to point out to Legolas how precarious the creature’s position still was) and had undoubtedly been of assistance in the kingdom already, even before the apparent rescue of the previous night.
Besides, he had given his word not to harm Arya’s friend once he had learned of the bond between them. He had invited them both to make their home here. He could not, in honour, retract that invitation unless something were to go wrong.
But that did not alter the fact that he had an inherent, instinctive dislike of dragons.
Dressed and ready, he waited for his advisor to arrive and together they walked towards the glade where the Starlight Festival would be held. On their way they picked up an escort of two guards before passing out through the gates and making their way along the paths towards the sound of gathering.
Lanterns ringed the outside of the glade and a clear area held a dais and a raised seat for the king. All stood as he entered the glade and waited for him to be seated before themselves taking their places.
Thranduil looked out across the assembly.
Directly to either side of his throne, seating for the higher ranks was laid out; here Arya’s people were ranged, the guests from Imladris, and somewhere amongst them, Legolas.
The sky darkened. The lamps were covered. Overhead, the stars shone out, and one solitary voice filled the air with song: Lindir, welcoming the stars, singing the reverence of the gathered elves, extolling their brightness, exalting their beauty. Other songs followed, other voices, until more and more joined in and all were singing the starlight while overhead the bright jewels of the night sky wheeled and turned.
After Thranduil had entered, there was little more Arya could do than to listen to the songs that were sung about the stars. She did not know the songs well enough to sing them, and besides she rarely sung as it were.
Legolas had found it difficult to focus on the festival tonight. His pending avowal, his father’s reaction to Fírnen, Arya beside him in all her magnificence… it was all too much, too distracting. All he could think was that this was it, this was the moment his life turned upon, the time when he would stand and commit his fëa to Arya’s in front of all these gathered friends and kinsmen and warriors and courtiers.
As he had been the last time she’d heard him, Lindir’s voice was one she enjoyed listening to. Arya knew the time was fast approaching for her to speak the vows Legolas would to her. One hand fiddled, unnoticed with the pocket the ring she had for Legolas was in. Making sure it was still safely within her pocket, for she did not want to lose it now.
Finally the singing stopped and Duinor whispered in his ear.
“It is time, my prince. This is your moment.”
Yes. His and Arya’s.
He reached for her hand and led her through the crowds to where the open centre of the glade rose in a little hillock and led her to the top, arriving just as the moon crested the trees and drowned them in its spilt-milk glimmering light.
All too soon it seemed they were both getting up and heading up the small hillock. Now why am I nervous now, when I’ve had all day to think tonight through? Arya could not help but wonder at why that was.
Turning Arya to face him, he recited the words that began the ritual of avowing…
“In sight of the moon, in sight of the stars, in sight of Eru Iluvatar, I pledge myself, mind, body, fëa, to you, Arya, while life fills me, until death takes me, or the seas divide us. And in token of the vows I make, I gift you this ring freely, to wear and keep in memory of our vows.”
He took the ring and slid it onto her finger, and waited for Arya’s response.
It was time for words to be spoken that she knew she would never be able to take back. Arya knew, she was ready for this, so naturally there was no need to be so nervous. Once Legolas had spoken, and she was glad he had told her those words before now so she wouldn’t make any mistakes, she permitted a small smile.
It was her turn to speak now.
“In sight of the moon, in sight of the stars, in sight of Eru Iluvatar, I pledge myself, mind, body, fëa, to you, Legolas, while life fills me, until death takes me, or the seas divide us. And in token of the vows I make, I gift you this ring freely, to wear and keep in memory of our vows.” So saying, she slipped the ring she had brought with her onto the right finger. Truly, after the time she’d been here, one wouldn’t have known that Sindarin was a new language to her, she’d made no mistakes at all.
And it was done. Lindir began to sing again, the ancient, ritual Song of Avowal as Legolas smiled and took Arya’s hands, and led her to the king where both knelt for his blessing.
The song ended, only to begin again in a language Legolas recognised with a smile; Lindir had translated the Song of Avowal into the Ancient Language and was performing it with skill, fitting the awkward phrasings to the smooth melody as if they belonged there.
A silence fell as he ended.
It was not easy for Arya to withhold a gasp when Lindir’s voice changed languages, to the one she had always known. I wonder who helped you with that, she thought.
To hear the language of her own people, and yes, she heard simultaneous gasps from her own kin as they realised it was their language was quite a surprise.
A lot of things were changing, or had changed now. For the moment, she stayed beside Legolas, following him, doing as he did.
Arya chuckled. “It may well have worked, that idea. Duinor may find himself being challenged at some point soon, just as Däthedr challenged you.” She grinned. “Though I will have to thank Lindir for that surprise. I do not believe anyone else who knows our language would have thought that could happen.”
Arya smiled as they sat back down. Once all the singing was done, she would thank Lindir.
Seated a few benches up from Legolas, Duinor gave Auisia a little nudge with his shoulder.
“I think your help with the translations has been much appreciated,” he said. “So, now you’ve seen our avowal ceremony, how would you feel about taking part on one yourself? The next festival is a quarter year away, or there is one a half-year off, if that’s too soon. But see how happy your queen is, and my prince. I think it would be nice to sample that for ourselves, what do you say?”
Auisia smiled at Duinor. “It would seem so indeed.” She wasn’t sitting too far from Arya, and she knew Arya would hear what she said, not to mention see anything she did. Not that Auisia cared that much either way. “Perhaps the quarter year would be soon enough.” She kissed his cheek.
The songs came quite quickly, though the food, as usual was lovely. For Arya, the time spent eating was almost oblivious to her. It was done, the vows had been said, and she couldn’t possibly feel better about that.
Once Lindir had finished singing for the last time, she waited until he was close by before speaking. “Thank you, Lindir. That was very thoughtful of you before. I do not think any of my kin were expecting that at all.”
Lindir inclined his head, smiling.
“It was an honour, my lady. It can be tedious, listening to songs all night in a tongue that is not familiar. I hope it will have made your kin feel more part of the celebrations.”
“That is one way to look at it. I remember when I was in Rivendell, even when I did not understand the words I was still quite happy to listen to you then. I think who is the one singing might have something to do with it.”
Arya paused. “Auisia did a good job helping you get the words right.” She grinned. “Thank you, again.”
Legolas looked out over the assembled elves, the mingled representatives of three realms; Mirkwood, Imladris, Alagaësia. There was a lot to do, a lot of work ahead if they were to settle down together. Convincing his father to accept Fírnen as part of the kingdom, that in itself would not be easy. But they had made a start. Hopefully, with the backing of Glorfindel and once the king learned Elrond had met with and healed the skulblaka, he would be more likely to look kindly on Fírnen. And, if it could be shown that Fírnen’s fëa was clear of the taint of Morgoth, then all should be well.
He glanced across at his father, catching him out in a small smile, and the king raised his goblet to him in silent acknowledgement.
Looking around, seeing Duinor whispering to Auisia, Tauriel looking down her dainty nose at Vanir and he looking up, almost smiling, Legolas began to believe all would be well.
Gazing down at the avowal ring sitting so heavy and new on his hand, he realised it was a chance to build something new and fresh together, not just for Arya’s people, but a new beginning for himself, also.
And he would relish it.