He did not realize the time until the sun began to rise. The sky faded from inky blue to radiant purple, the stars glittering, then blinking out one by one. The moon sank beneath the horizon and the first rays of morning began to illuminate the gardens of Imladris. Thranduil sat on an iron bench, his arm around Maegwen, who was leaning comfortably against him. His fingers were tangled in her long blonde hair.

"It is morning," Maegwen said with surprise.

"Yes," he replied. "We have spent the whole night in talk."

She smiled. "So we have. I confess that I find you quite a brilliant conversationalist, Thranduil."

"While that may be so, I am not nearly so fascinating as you are," he said softly. "I only wish we might have spent at least part of this night in more tender pursuits."

Maegwen blushed. "What do you mean?"

"You have not kissed me once."

Maegwen turned her head, sitting up straight and looking at him. "Nor have you—" she began, but Thranduil cut her off by taking her lips, doing what he had been dreaming of doing again since the first time it had happened. She sighed beneath his mouth, relaxing into him immediately. Maegwen wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself as close as she could be. Thranduil groaned low in the back of his throat. Finally he let go, pulled back, gasping for breath.

She did not give him much time to breathe. Maegwen pushed her mouth back onto Thranduil's. He pulled her into his lap, letting himself grow more forceful. He bit at her lower lip, laved it with his tongue. He lowered her down onto the bench, his body upon hers, sliding his big hands over her torso, first merely stroking her ribs, but then moving to cup her breasts through her gown. Slowly he squeezed, then thumbed the nipples through the thin material. Maegwen moaned loudly.

"Stop…oh, Thranduil, you will drive me to madness."

"Come back to my room, Maegwen," he murmured, but slowly obeyed her wish, reluctantly removing his hands from her body and allowing her to sit up.

"I cannot, Thranduil," she whispered sadly. "Do not ask it of me." She licked her lips and moved slightly away from him.

"You promised me the night."

"I gave it to you. Now it is morning, and time to put aside these stolen hours and come to our senses." She reached up and stroked his hair, straightening the circlet on his head. This made him smile.

"I doubt I shall ever come to my senses where you are concerned," he said. "I have never had anyone that I could speak to as easily as you. Did you not feel it?"

"I did," she admitted. "I like you very much. I feel…safe…with you. Still, you cannot ask me to put aside a life long bond with Celebrían."

"Is there no chance that she will understand? That she will let you go?" he asked quietly. He was not about to give up.

Maegwen looked at him with surprise in her eyes. "I have not thought to ask her. Never did it occur to me that something like this might happen."

"Then I implore you to speak to her. Surely she would wish for your happiness as much as you wish for hers."

"I…will breach the subject with her when I may. But what of my lord and lady?"

"Celeborn will be vastly relieved that I do not want his daughter. As for Lady Galadriel, she has always seemed a creature of reason. I will speak with her as soon as I may."

That may be soon, Thranduil of Mirkwood. Send my beloved Maegwen to her bed, and wait in the garden. I will come to you.

The voice touched Thranduil's mind and nearly made him jump out of his skin. Goosebumps stood up on his arms as the Lady of Light spoke to him within the confines of his mind. He looked at Maegwen but from her expression he could tell that she had not heard this communication. What could he do but obey the directive?

Thranduil took a deep breath. "It is time for you to go to bed."

Maegwen nodded. She stood up from the bench on shaky legs. She stretched slightly, and Thranduil admired the lines of her body as she did. Her hard nipples still pressed against the bodice of her gown, and noticing this made him twitch. He rose to his feet as well to see her off.

"Will you not escort me to my door?" she asked, tilting her head.

He wondered if he should tell her the truth or if Galadriel meant for her not to know that she was coming. He set his mouth into a firm line. No, he would not lie to her. He would not begin things that way.

"The Lady of Light spoke to me inside my mind. She bade me wait for her here. I can only imagine it is to speak about the arrangements."

Maegwen looked slightly alarmed. "So soon?"

"Fear not. I will tell her what I desire. I will tell her that I will have you and no other for my bride."

Maegwen grinned at him. The expression of happiness on her face made Thranduil's heart light.

"Truly, nothing escapes my lady, and I trust her wisdom in all ways. She will be fair in her dealings with you," Maegwen said. "Good night, Thranduil-mine."

She turned and walked away down the garden path with a spring in her step. She looked almost as though she were dancing, and it pleased Thranduil greatly to see such joy in her. It made his own heart light; nay, exuberant!

"She is just what I need," he said softly.

"Perhaps. But are you what she needs, Thranduil?"

Thranduil turned to see Lady Galadriel standing beside him. She smiled at him gently, as was her manner, but he knew that beneath her tender façade lay a core of mithril, which was what kept her powerful and able to maintain order in the woods of Lothlórien. She was carrying two plates of fruit and delicate pastries which Elrond always served for breakfast in his house, and offered one to him. Thranduil took the plate gratefully and tried not to express his unease at her sudden and immediate appearance on his face.

"I am not certain what she needs," he admitted.

"I see."

"Perhaps this is something you can tell me. I am not entirely selfish. I would see Maegwen happy as well as myself."

"I have never thought of you as selfish at all, Thranduil," Galadriel said gently. "Sit down. Eat your breakfast."

Thranduil sat back down on the bench and stuffed half of the sweet roll into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, savoring the almond flavor. Elrond had far better cooks than he did in Mirkwood, he thought a bit jealousy… but he was willing to bet Elrond could not cook. Thranduil could, though this was a talent that few elves knew he possessed.

"Thank you," he said with his mouth full.

"Maegwen is as dear to me as my own child," Galadriel said, seating herself on the bench next to Thranduil. Delicately she slipped a slice of peach between her ripe lips. Thranduil shifted slightly and tore his eyes away from her mouth. "I would see to her future happiness. Do you think you can provide this to her?"

"Yes," Thranduil replied ardently. "I am not trifling with the maid, my lady. I would make her my wife, my queen."

"And you have reason to believe that she wants the same?"

"Yes…" Thranduil said, but then he took a deep breath, trying to be honest, "Although I fear it would break her heart to be separated from your daughter."

"I think they would survive," Galadriel said quietly, smiling.

"It gladdens my heart to hear you say that."

"You must promise me however, Thranduil, that if she ever desires to leave you to go and live with Celebrían, you will let her do so."

"I promise," Thranduil said, feeling his heart begin to pound in his chest. To have Galadriel's blessing was nearly to have Maegwen's consent. He knew this.

"If that sad day comes when you must let her go, you must do it without making her feel guilty."

A cold premonition shuddered through Thranduil. He closed his eyes, and wondered if the screams he heard inside his mind came from the past or from the future.

"What do you see, my lady?"

Galadriel was silent for a long moment. "I cannot say. I know only that I will let Maegwen go to you only if you can love her completely selflessly."

"I can. I do," Thranduil vowed. "I will never let any harm, any sorrow befall her!"

"You cannot protect her from everything," Galadriel said gently, taking his hand. "Yet I believe in your sincerity. May all your days together beneath the green leaves of your forest be blessed with joy."

She patted the back of his hand, then let it go, getting up to leave. He nodded and tried to smile at her, but he felt a dark wind swirling inside his heart.

"Thank you," Thranduil said.

"Go get some rest, King of Mirkwood. You are weary," said Galadriel, then she disappeared as mysteriously as she had arrived.

Thranduil sat in the garden alone for a long time, wondering what exactly he should do.