Midsummer in the Greenwood. A time of magic, when it scarcely
seemed to grow dark at all – no sooner had the sun set, then it rose
again. It made the few brief hours of starlight all the more
Thranduil’s queen was as radiant as ever; but on this night, something more primal
stirred within him. It reminded him of the night of a harvest
moon, when another new life had joined them. He glanced down at
the child curled asleep on his lap, exhausted by the festivities, and
bent to place a kiss on his cheek, before turning to the elf-maid at
his side. “Mireth, would you please put Legolas to bed?”
His eyes caught Telparian’s, and he swallowed. “I think – we may
be some time.”
Mireth nodded and scooped the elfling into her arms. “Goodnight,
my lord – my lady.” She smiled suddenly. “May Yavanna bless
He took his wife by the hand, leading her away from the music and
feasting, into the shelter of his beloved trees and the warm, fragrant
darkness. A touch, a caress, a kiss, and she was in his arms,
clinging to him.
“Will you celebrate Midsummer with me, my Lady?” he whispered.
Yavanna is the Giver of Fruits - so her blessing may well be sought by
those wanting to create a child.