Eleina winced at the grating of the table legs against the wooden floor as they were dragged carelessly across the room. Soon to follow were the four chairs, also dragged, and then, just when Eleina thought things were going to quiet down, a bowl full of small glass ornamental balls was dropped and shattered, sending the balls flying to all corners of the room.

Closing her book, she sighed, “Am I to find no peace anywhere in the palace today?” The servants seemed unconcerned with her frustration, or at least unconcerned enough to ignore her muttered complain.

Lord Thranduil heard, though, from his position as overseer a few feet away, and pointed out, “The banquet hall is probably not the best place to look for solitude.”

“Yes, well, I’ve already been kicked out of the courtyard, the library, and even my own chambers,” she retorted, turning to Thranduil with a huff.

He gave a broad smile that came across more as a grimace on a face used only to sarcastic grins and insisted, “Your own chambers? And why would those need cleaning? When was the last time Legolas was in there?”

Eleina glared for a moment before retorting, “Yes, and when was the last time he called you father?” Thranduil laughed one of his rare, genuine laughs that sometimes poked itself out in consequence of Eleina. It was no secret that Eleina had ever been one of the few things in the world that could bring a smile to the normally stoic, almost cruelly cold Elven king. Many guessed it solely because Eleina had always been the only creature in the world willing to talk back, but no one had yet felt brave enough to test this theory.

“Yes, well, should you not be getting ready for his arrival? Surely you do not plan to attend the return of a hero dressed like that,” Thanduil suggested. He raised his eyebrow and the resemblance to his son was momentarily uncanny, but then the small smile was gone and the eyebrow returned to its normal resting place. “And I hear he is bringing with him a friend...”

“Is that so? Then you have heard more than I,” Eleina shrugged. She let out a deep sigh and glanced at the windows in the ceiling. Though she could understand why Thranduil had initially built his palace underground, she never could understand why, once the immediate need had passed, he hadn’t returned above ground. But then there were many things about the Elven lord that she, nor anyone else, understood. And while Eleina had insisted to herself when she was very young that she could never live in halls of stone underground... here she was.

With another sigh that made Thranduil shake his head, Eleina rose and quitted the room, instead returning to her chambers to see if she was allowed back in yet. To her relief, the two servants that had shoved her out early had disappeared, and someone had even already laid out a new dress for her. Eleina fingered the green and brown velvets, the golden lace sewn along the collar and cuffs. It was a beautiful dress and had no doubt taken the seamstress a good effort to make.

“What a waste,” Eleina muttered to herself.

The door groaned open as she spoke, and the maid that fluttered in inquired, “What’s a waste?” Sudden music in the courtyard nearby -for once upon a time, Eleina had insisted her room at least be near the courtyard- made both women turn in the direction of the festive music.

“They’re just warming up,” the maid explained. “They want to be ready because he could arrive at any moment. You would do well to adopt the same speed, lady.”

Eleina laughed, “Oh, I’m ‘lady’ now? Not just ‘Eleina’?”

The maid blushed that Eleina had noticed the change in her title and explained hastily, “Well, with Lord Legolas being a hero and all now–“

”Lord Legolas,” Eleina scoffed. She shook her head and ordered, “All right, well help me dress, then.” She cooperated as the maid laced up the back of the fancy velvet dress, and sat patiently on the vanity stool as the maid brushed and braided her hair. She could have done it on her own, but she had learned over the years just to cooperate.

When the maid had finished and left the room, Eleina stretched out on her bed, arms and legs extended as far as they could stretch. She sank into the soft down comforter and enjoyed the cool fabric against her skin, the lilting melodies of the music drifting through the windows at the top of the walls, the stillness of the room after the hustle-bustle of the entire palace in preparations for the return of their hero.

“He’s a hero now,” Eleina sighed, but any acid had left her voice, and the comment sounded weak, almost sorrowful in the quiet room. She closed her eyes to let the music wash over her completely, wishing nothing more than to sleep through the rest of the day. As if in response to her wishes, her mind slowly drifted off into a world of music and sweet scents of blossoms and above-ground palaces and gentle breezes bringing rains that Mirkwood had needed for so long...