Darkest Nights | Love of Royals: Book II

XL: Epilogue

SEVEN MONTHS LATER - MIDSUMMER'S EVE, 2956

Fíria's POV

The Woodland Realm has changed considerably since I first entered it.  Firstly, it expanded, adopting thousands of new citizens from my old kingdom.  Secondly, a new throne room was built, adjacent to the original, to house Fírion and Tauriel's thrones.  I suspect Thranduil still feels a little unaccustomed to all the alterations to his home, but Elena has been helping him, as always.  Thirdly, I don't walk down corridors to have people turn away from me in fear. In fact, it's almost unnerving how many little acknowledgement head-bows I receive daily now I've been recognised as royalty of not just one, but two kingdoms.

Legolas is adapting better than I thought he would.  He's practically embracing the whole thing since he'd grown so sick of the way things used to be. He tells me every day that this place is growing and thriving now—that it's almost another world compared to the hollow husk of a kingdom it was just after the Battle of the Five Armies. Yes, Elena and the connection with the Stars may have saved it from tipping off the edge into full ruin, but the Dû-edhil being here has opened everyone's eyes, he says. And if there are people here who refuse to accept that this is a new age... they'll have one formidable court to stand up to.

Court meetings are... eventful, to say the least.  Thranduil at one head of the table, Fírion at the other. The rest of us in between, trying to actually agree on something, whether that's how to share resources or how to deal with the constant battering on our borders from spiders. There have been small verbal quarrels—often consisting of Thranduil saying something more than a little passive aggressive and my brother looking like he wants to throw himself off a cliff—but so far, no one's drawn a sword on anyone. And in my books, that means things are going brilliantly.

Tonight is something I'd never really celebrated back in the court of the Dû-edhil: Midsummer's Eve. Apparently this night is universally celebrated—everywhere except where I grew up, it seems. The Woodland Realm is bedecked with flowers, shimmering with strings of lights, and alive with numerous elves who are spending their very first summer here.  One could say this place wears the height of summer like a crown.  It's the perfect night to stay up late dining and drinking past the sunset—but no drinking for me, of course, what with the baby I carry—and to watch the fireflies dance around the horizon like living stars.

Erainiel is probably the most excited about mine and Legolas's first child.  'They're going to be my BEST FRIEND!' she squeals on a daily basis, in her most impeccable Westron.

However, that doesn't mean Legolas and I aren't looking forward to it.  The first half Dû-edhel, half Sindar elf, and we're going to love them with all our hearts.  I know Legolas is going to be a wonderful father.  

I have, in the past, doubted my own competence as a mother, but he's always talked my troubles away.  He's talked so many of my demons out of my mind, I'm surprised he's still going.

But he is.  I get to wake up to him every morning—wake up from peaceful nights of slumber in his arms—and feel more alive every single time.  I get to see his smile, soft and caring, when I turn my head, run a hand down the side of his face, and tell him I love him.  And tonight, I get to sit next to him in our friendly gathering, to wash down our supper with a few too many glasses of wine—or simply water for me.  Not very exciting on the drinks front, but it's alright.  That's not all that matters.

There are just over twenty of us I think, featuring all the royals (except Erainiel, who is of course in bed) and an inner circle of friends we've invites respectively.  Most of them are Silvans who, say twenty years ago, wouldn't have so much as dreamed of attending a private gathering with the royals.  But thanks to Elena, Fírion and I, they have been welcomed more than ever before into our lives—the court lives.  Some, like Gelya, are merely maids by day, and some are guards, all of whom Thranduil would have once treated like lesser beings.  Thank the Valar, things are changing.