Darkest Nights | Love of Royals: Book II

XVIII: A Little While

Fíria's POV

Legolas and I did, in fact, continue training after Ílren had passed by.  The next day, my muscles ache from training hard for the first time in weeks—a feeling I have never had the misfortune of experiencing.  Usually I would train hard every day, weapons and all, and then some days my father's whip or dagger would appear under the pretence that it was there to help me.  Pain will make you stronger.  So strong that you do not feel it.

There was eventually more than enough activity to justify my muscle soreness: more sparring with two swords, then one sword, then simply fighting with no weapons at all.  He's strong, my Prince—but still not strong enough to overcome me in combat.  A worthwhile opponent for practising, as I had thought at first, yet if I had attacked him on that first day... he would be dead.  Tauriel, too.  I have yet to face the only elf left here who outranks them.

However, I am passing through their chambers again. No sign of either of them, or Erainiel, or Gelya. There is only Legolas and I, my arm straining as he pulls me through the rooms and into a tiny back corridor.  I hardly have the chance to admire the elaborate chambers that house the platinum-haired royals, everything adorned with antlers and stars and, despite the cold, flowers, before I'm engulfed by the stuffy air and darkness.  The scent that coats my tongue... it's old paper.  Makes me wonder what in Arda Thranduil has tucked away back here in a room behind his own.

'Legolas?' I squeeze his hand questioningly.  'You haven't told me why we're in here.'

In spite of the darkness, I can tell Legolas is smiling.  'You'll see.  Trust me.'

And I do, as he turns the ornate brass handle on the door opposite him to reveal a huge room—a library.  Thranduil has a library, and it's more grand and filled with more books than I could ever imagine.  It's a great paradise of wood and leather and paper, illuminated by sunlight filtering in through pale curtains over the windows, and it feels so... so old.  So old, and so special.  A hidden library for the royals alone, untouched by the outside world.

'My Valar...' I find myself whispering, craning my neck to admire the sheer enormity of the library, while Legolas smiles again.  The unbelievably high ceiling is reached by numerous ladders stretching up like pillars among the infinite shelves of books—books upon books, all in varying conditions, and all different sizes and colours and languages and... everything. This library has everything.  Wine-red and bone-white furniture covers the ancient floor, featuring velvety armchairs simply begging for me to curl up and read on. Oh, the hours I could spend in here...

I can only imagine how much Elena would have loved seeing this for the first time.

'Are you sure you're allowed in here?' I breathe at last as Legolas closes the door behind us.

'Of course I am.  I'm the King's son,' he smirks.

I swallow uncomfortably.  'I doubt this beautiful place was cut off from the kingdom, the only entrance being a dusty little corridor from Thranduil and Elena's private chambers, for no reason.  I don't think we should be in here.'

'They're not going to find out,' he says confidently, 'they're in meetings all day—wine, music, spiders, the usual preparations—'

'Why aren't you with them, then?  If it's for the Feast tomorrow?'

'My father told me I don't have to be there until this afternoon.  Consider yourself lucky that he's allowed me the morning off when the Feast is so near.'

'I expect he might regret his decision when he finds out you've been in here.  With me, as well,' I add.

'I told you, he's not going to find out,' he repeats, 'we'll leave everything just as we found it.  I've done it before, it's easy.'