"Do not drop it, Haldir."

"I have no intention of dropping it."

"The floors are slippery."

"I have not fallen on them yet!"

"Those harps must be heavy."

"Yes, they are heavy. Would you like to take one, Maegwen?"

Haldir stopped walking to glare at her, the two harps balanced carefully in his arms. He was actually handling them perfectly, but Maegwen was in a sour mood and inclined to take it out on him. It was unjust perhaps, but she did not care. At least Celebrían was happy. She had gotten Elrond to escort her back to their chamber.

Maegwen was angry at Thranduil. She still did not understand why he had marched out in the middle of their song. She was also irritated with herself – her attraction to the King of Mirkwood had not waned one ounce. If anything she had found him far more clever than everyone made him out to be. There was a deep intelligence in his eyes… and there was something else there as well. There was pain. He was hurting.

Maegwen wanted to drive that hurt away, and it frustrated her that she could not.

Lord Glorfindel suddenly rested an arm around her shoulders and Maegwen jumped. She had forgotten he was there, an escort sent by Elrond apparently at Celebrían's request, to look after Haldir. A word in the ear of a saucy elf maid had provided a distraction for Lord Celeborn. Maegwen had been grateful for this, for both Haldir's sake as well as her own. She had been slightly surprised that Celeborn had accepted the arrangement, for he seemed more and more determined to have Haldir, but perhaps he knew he had been outwitted, at least for the moment.

"I can take one of the harps if they are too heavy for you, Haldir," Glorfindel said. The young elf blushed to the roots of his perfectly braided silvery blond hair.

"They are heavy, but not too heavy. Thank you, Lord Glorfindel."

"We are almost there, anyway," Maegwen said. "Haldir—"

"Yes?" He glared at her.

"Forgive me."

"Pardon me?"

"I said, forgive me," Maegwen gritted out.

Glorfindel laughed. "I think she is trying to offer you an apology."

"I may drop these after all," Haldir drawled.

"You are a buffoon," Maegwen said, her ears turning red. "I withdraw my apology."

Glorfindel opened the door to Haldir's room and he brought the harps inside and set them down. Maegwen stood in the hall for a moment then turned to cross it to the one she was sharing with Celebrían.

"My lady," Glorfindel called. "Wait."

"Yes? What is it?"

The tall golden elf came around to look into her eyes, and for the first time since she had met him, he looked serious. He spoke to her in a low voice.

"It is I who owe you an apology. I was the one who sent Thranduil up to your room earlier. I thought Celebrían was there, that he would meet her."

Maegwen felt her cheeks turn crimson. "Yes," she said, "You do owe me an apology."

Glorfindel nodded. "I am sorry. Thranduil—"

"Do not speak to me of Thranduil."

Glorfindel arched an eyebrow, having caught something in her tone. "You like him."

Maegwen glared at him. "Yes!"

"He likes you."

"He does not!"

"Come now, he did propose after all."

"And then he took it back."

"Did he?"

Maegwen frowned. She thought about it. "You are confusing me, sir! But it matters not. If he liked me, he would not have left in the middle of the song."

"Do you know why he left?" Glorfindel asked evenly. He had far too much confidence, Maegwen thought.

"No," she snapped. "Do you?"

"No… but do you not wish to find out?"

"How can I do that?"

"Go talk to him."

"I do not know where he is."

"He is in the garden," said Haldir, suddenly appearing in the door way, free from harps. "I can see him from my window."

Maegwen pushed past the both of them and ran to the window. She stared out into the moonlit gardens. Haldir's room had a lovely view. Hers did as well…she supposed every room at Imladris had a lovely view. Haldir was right, however. Far out in the maze of topiaries stood a forlorn figure, his arms wrapped around himself as if he were cold, though surely he could not feel the harsh temperature.

She stood staring for a long moment, moved somehow. If he was out in the garden alone in the snow, perhaps something was bothering him. Perhaps it was more than the fact that he hated her song. Yes, she would go talk to him. The two of them… alone, with no one else interrupting or making rude comments. She needed to find out if she truly did like him. Perhaps she was suffering for nothing.

Maegwen turned around to tell Glorfindel her plan and discovered that the War Councilor had Haldir pressed against the door. He had each of the younger elf's hands pinned beside his head, and their lips were locked in a torrid duel. Haldir's eyes were closed, his round cheeks flushed. Glorfindel licked and sucked at his lips. Maegwen saw the flash of his teeth. She heard Haldir hiss.

She could not help staring… and part of her felt slightly aroused by the display. Glorfindel was clearly the master, but who would have known that Haldir could use his mouth in such a way? Maegwen licked her lips. A new light was shed on the younger elf. Suddenly she felt very aware of the reasons why Celeborn wanted him. As she watched, Glorfindel lifted the edge of Haldir's tunic, exposing the pale flesh of his stomach. Lean fingers explored that flesh, stroking it, making Haldir shiver and purr.

Maegwen cleared her throat. Haldir's icy blue eyes flew open and he pulled back from the kiss and smirked at her. Glorfindel did not withdraw his hand from beneath Haldir's tunic but he did turn his head towards Maegwen. He smiled.

"I am going out to the garden," Maegwen said. "That is, if you feel safe enough alone with Lord Glorfindel, Haldir."

Haldir laughed. "I am in good hands."

Maegwen smirked. "I can see that."

"I will force him to nothing, Mistress Maegwen," Glorfindel said. "You may trust me."

"I think I do trust you, Lord Glorfindel, regardless of the fact that this may lead me to a bad end."

"Maegwen—" Haldir said suddenly, sounding urgent. "You will not speak of this to Lord Celeborn."

She shook her head. "So long as you do not mention that I am leaving the palace in the middle of the night to speak with the King of Mirkwood."

Haldir nodded. "Good luck," he said, and for once he seemed sincere.

"And to you," she replied softly. Nodding to Glorfindel, she squeezed past them and headed back down the corridor. She thought perhaps she ought to mention to Celebrían where she was going, but she knew her friend would understand and that it could wait. Thranduil certainly would not stay in the garden all night.

Imladris was large and confusing. Maegwen took the first door she could find that led out, but the gardens were enormous and she did not know her way. From the ground it was more difficult to find where Thranduil might be. She stopped for a minute, closed her eyes, and opened up her ears. Suddenly a voice came to her on the wind. She followed it, sure that it was Thranduil, and he was singing… singing her ballad.

Argh. How could he touch her when she was nowhere near him?

Then he was there, in front of her. She rounded the hedge and saw him standing just as she had been when she looked out Haldir's window, his arms wrapped around his muscular body. He wore no cloak, only the splendid white and silver outfit he had appeared in at dinner. The final note of the song died and he turned slowly around, sensing her presence. At first his face was a mask of irritation, but as he saw her, it changed to one of wonder, though despair seemed to linger in his large blue eyes. He settled his hands on his hips.

"What are you doing here, Mistress Maegwen?" he asked in a calm tone.

"I saw you from the window."

"Did you?" he arched an eyebrow. "Ah. Well then. That explains everything."

Maegwen clenched her fingers into a fist even though his tone was not rude. His words were. "Why did you leave in the middle of the song?"

"You would not believe me if I told you."

"How do you know that? I do not think you a liar."

Thranduil sighed. He ran a hand through his thick golden hair, leaning bits of it sticking up at odd angles and his golden circlet slightly askew. Maegwen wanted to laugh, but the yet unspoken answer to her question held her a prisoner of anguish.

"The song was beautiful. Elrond tells me that you write them."

"Yes. I write them for Celebrían."

"She is fortunate. I have few musicians in my court, and no composers. My halls are empty of music. Your song simply reminded me of this. It reminded of a time when I was young, and we did have such things. It reminded me of how lonely I am." Thranduil laughed bitterly. "And there you have my confession. How weak you must think a king who admits such things."

"I do not think you are weak," Maegwen said firmly. She could not express to him what she felt when he spoke so plainly. She saw that he was not a great lord to put on a pedestal but a deeply soulful elf who hid beneath a veneer of brute strength and sarcastic wit. "There is no shame in being lonely. Besides, soon you will have… a queen… the finest of all queens, to keep you company."

"You think very highly of Lady Celebrían."

"She is my best of friends. And, if it pleases you, I will accompany her as her maid to your court."

Thranduil tilted his head. He stepped forward and before she could stop him, pulled Maegwen up against him, one arm around her waist, the other hand reaching up to caress her cheek.

"So I would have a queen as well as the one I really want," he said in a throaty voice. He bent and dropped a kiss on her neck. Maegwen made a noise of frustration and shoved at his chest, but it was like pushing against stone.

"No," she said through gritted teeth. "I would come for her, not you!"

"Then let us just leave her here with Elrond, and you may be my queen instead. She seems to prefer him anyway."

"She does," said Maegwen. "Please, King Thranduil, take your hands, and your lips off of me."

Slowly Thranduil released her. Maegwen's heart was racing and she could scarcely think. He did want her. He wanted her to be his queen. He took a step back from her, but it was a small one and still he loomed too near to allow her to form proper thoughts. He smiled at her, and his eyes were dark, the way Celeborn's were when he looked at Haldir.

"You desire me. I could simply take you, you know. Force you to my will. Yet I would have your consent. Marry me, Maegwen. Bring music to Mirkwood. Bring light. Bring back the joy that has been lost from my heart since I became king."

"You flatter me, sir, if you think I have such power."

"Thranduil. No titles, no sir for you. Call me Thranduil. I would hear my name on your lips."

"Thranduil."

"Yes."

Maegwen took a deep breath. "I want, with all my heart, to be with you. I care not for being a queen, but you… I do desire you. I desire to know you better, to see what lies beneath the act you display to Celeborn and Elrond and the rest. Yet my duty lies with Celebrían. If she achieves her desire and weds Elrond, then my place will be in Imladris. And if instead she marries you, then I will go with her to Mirkwood."

Thranduil frowned dangerously. "So the only way to have you near is to wed your friend, and then I will never be able to touch you, to make you my own?"

It sounded as terrible as it felt, Maegwen thought, nodding numbly in agreement. "Yes."

"I do not accept this."

"My life belongs to Celebrían. I cannot give it to you," Maegwen said. She hung her head.

He lifted her chin with a finger and looked down into her eyes. "Well, then. What can you give me?"

"I…"

"Will you give me tonight? Walk with me, talk with me, speak with me, know me…lie with me… tonight. Just tonight."

How could she refuse?