Samwise Gamgee loved Mirkwood. He enjoyed being in the company of Elves, loved the ceaseless music and singing, the beautiful architecture, and he was even starting to get used to the food (though thankfully Thranduil had managed to provide them with more standard Hobbit fare, to Sam's delight.) Being here made him relax, to unwind after the battle with the spiders, especially knowing that Legolas was going to be all right.

He had been almost as thrilled as Frodo was to see Bilbo and Gandalf, though it bothered him some that Bilbo seemed so interested in having Frodo settle down with Angelica. He supposed that if she did, he would still get to see her, as he would then be her gardener (oh, how he had enjoyed their tryst in Elrond's gardens) but it would not be exactly the same. Would he be the best man at their wedding? Could he stand it, watching her pledge herself to his very best friend. It would be worse than seeing her live in a sordid menage a trois with Merry and Pippin.

After the two of them had departed for the night, and before he, Frodo, Bilbo, and Gandalf had been shown to their own chambers, Sam had decided to put his case before the three of them.

"What about me? What if I married Angelica?" he blurted out.

Bilbo and Gandalf exchanged an amused look, which might have degenerated into laughter if Sam had not looked so surprised and hurt by it.

"Why is that funny?" he demanded.

"It's not, Sam," said Frodo. "As is it, I don't think Bilbo means he wants me to marry her, just to settle down and--"

"That's exactly what I mean, Frodo!"

It was Frodo's turn to look surprised. "Do you? Me, get married? I don't think that's the life for me, Bilbo."

"Ah, but what about Angelica, Frodo?" Gandalf asked, taking a bite of a berry-covered Elvish dessert. "Don't you think she might want to be married? After all, females often do desire such arrangements."

Frodo looked slightly nauseous, and Sam could not figure out how he managed that since as far as Sam knew, he had eaten almost nothing. Quickly the look changed to one of sadness and Sam felt the urge to put his arm around Frodo.

"Let me get this entirely clear. You think," said Frodo to Bilbo, "that I ought to ask Angelica to marry me?"

"Yes," Bilbo said, nodding and leaning back in his chair.

"I can't," said Frodo. He turned to look at Sam. "I'm sure she'll be very happy with you, Sam."

Bilbo and Gandalf started laughing, and this time Sam got angry. "What? What is it? You think she wouldn't want me? She's wanted me as much as she's wanted anyone here! And you, Frodo, you think just because you're not man enough to handle a wife that means poor Sam now has a go at her?"

"Samwise," said Gandalf more seriously, "You misunderstand."

"I don't see how I could possibly be misunderstanding," Sam snapped.

"Have you forgotten a certain Sweet Maiden of the Golden Ale that you left behind in Hobbiton?" Bilbo demanded, poking Sam with a chicken leg he was holding. It left a greasy mark on the front of Sam's shirt.

"Rosie?"

"Yes, Mistress Rose," said Gandalf, nodding sagely. "I thought you were entirely devoted to her."

"He is," said Frodo. "Aren't you, Sam?"

Sam thought about it. Yes, he had been crazy about Rosie since he was a lad, but he had never thought he had much chance of winning her affections. He was nearly scared to death to talk to her… most of their deepest conversations happened when he had had enough ale to loosen his tongue. Surely she thought he was an idiot. Angelica, Sam knew, did not think he was an idiot. She liked him, had proved it… more than once!

"I'm going to propose to Angelica," he said stubbornly.

"Do what you must, Sam," said Gandalf.

After that, Sam had fallen silent until it was time for bed, and said little through the long course of the next day, which was spent entirely in the dining room. He did, however, find himself thinking a great deal about Rosie, and about Angelica, and about which one of them he might prefer to have for his wife.

Angelica was supposed to make her choice between them while they were in Mirkwood, Sam remembered. Pippin asked about her several times, and was told that she was being looked after and would be joining them later. When Aragorn came in at dinner time and told Pippin that Angelica was waiting for him in the library, Sam's heart flip-flopped in his chest. Sam knew that Galadriel had told Angelica to make her choice to Aragorn! Was she choosing Pippin?

It was not fair! Sam had not even had the chance to ask her yet. He had wanted to do it the night that it rained, but he had not been able to find any flowers to give her. As he watched Pippin stroll out of the dining hall, Sam began to fidget. He tried to move closer to Aragorn so he could ask about her, but then all the Elven royalty came in and Sam was trapped in his seat. Five minutes later dinner was served.

Sam could not eat anything. He started at a large bouquet of yellow roses that were sitting in the middle of the table. A few more minutes passed, and suddenly Sam couldn't stand it any more. He stood up, seized the flowers out of the centerpiece, and ran out of the dining room in the direction of the library.

Where was it? Thranduil had said down the hall to the left. Sam yanked open the first door he came to, but there was an Elven couple entangled inside it. Better than finding Angelica making love to Pippin, he supposed, but not what he was looking for, Sam kept running down the hall until he found the big, heavy, wooden door to Thranduil's library. He yanked it open.

Angelica was sitting in a chair by the window with Pippin standing beside her. They were holding hands, and staring into each others' eyes. This was not a good sign! Sam ran across the room, colliding with Pippin, literally knocking him out of the way. The roses flew out of his hand and landed in Angelica's lap.

"Rosie!" Sam hollered, "Will you marry me?"

***

Ciendriel awoke for the second time late in the afternoon, or so she judged from the light coming in the window. Her body felt wonderful from her lovemaking with Haldir, who was no longer lying beside her, but her heart was still a broken ruin with the knowledge that she had gotten Legolas killed. The shambles that it was lurched inside her when she realized that she was alone, but she felt more sad than afraid.

She looked around idly for her clothing, but apparently Haldir had taken it away with him when he left, for there was no sign of it, and she was naked in the bed. No matter, she felt no desire to rise and dress. She felt no desire to do anything, even to see Haldir. After all, she supposed she would be seeing plenty of him once they were married.

She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face in her arms as she let flow her silent tears for the Prince of Mirkwood, who had awakened her to what love truly meant. Ciendriel knew not how much time had passed before she heard someone open the door and enter the chamber. She assumed it was Haldir, so she did not lift her head.

A moment later someone sat on the bed beside her and put comforting arms around her. Ciendriel inhaled deeply and smelled her mother's perfume. A small joy filled her, and she lifted her head and flung her arms around Morgone. Her mother stroked her hair, then pushed Ciendriel gently back to wipe away her tears.

"Now, now, my dear, it is not that bad," she said.

Ciendriel looked at Morgone with disbelief. “How can you say such a thing?”

“In time, you will come to understand.”

“I will never understand,” Ciendriel said. “I made a terrible mistake.”

“From what I understand, Haldir was more at fault than you were, but I hope you have forgiven him.”

“Haldir? But I was the one who--”

“Do not worry about it any more Ciendriel. What is done is done. You will wed with Haldir, and go with Galadriel and her Elves into the west. He is a very charming fellow. I have just had dinner with him. I have every confidence that this is a good match.”

Ciendriel stared at her mother in shock. She did not understand how Morgone could be so callous about Legolas’ death. She also did not know that she truly wanted to marry Haldir, even with her true love gone, though she supposed that would be better than losing her mother. And go into the west? She was not ready to go to the Undying lands. She had hardly seen any of Middle-earth. She wanted to travel, and spend more time in places like Rivendell (but maybe not Lothlorien.)

“Are you going to leave Middle-earth, too?” she whispered.

“In time. I will take all of our people with me when Lord Elrond goes. We will travel over the sea with the Elves of Rivendell.” Morgone smiled faintly.

“You are fond of Lord Elrond,” Ciendriel ventured.

“Indeed, I am. It is good to see him again. Now, I will send some clothing for you, and have someone take you to the bathing chamber. Tomorrow you will meet King Elessar and Lord Thranduil at breakfast, and tomorrow night we will have a banquet to celebrate your engagement to the Marchwarden.”

“I am not ready for this.”

“Certainly, you are. Think on it no more, Ciendriel, but rest.” Morgone opened the door to leave and there was Haldir. He was carrying a folded pile of clothing which Ciendriel assumed was intended for her. Morgone smiled at him graciously. “Ah, there you are, Haldir. Perhaps you will take my daughter to the bathing chamber?”

“With pleasure,” Haldir said, bowing slightly. “I have brought some fresh clothing for you, Princess.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice no more than a whisper.

“I think you will be a good husband to my daughter,” Morgone said. She turned back towards Ciendriel. “I am glad that you have accepted him at last. Certainly Thranduil will find another bride for Legolas.”

“Mother, Legolas is dead,” Ciendriel said tiredly. “This is the only reason that I accept what you have decreed.”

“Surely not the only reason,” Haldir said sardonically.

“I do not mean to insult you, Haldir,” she said. “Surely you have been equally as kind to me as you have been treacherous.”

Haldir laughed shortly, but he did not correct her. Morgone was frowning.

“Ciendriel, Legolas Greenleaf is not dead. Did you think that he was?”

Ciendriel stared at her mother. “The spiders killed him,” she said softly. “I saw him fall. It was my fault, for distracting him.”

“The poison of the spiders does not kill. Legolas is not dead, merely paralyzed. Elrond had been attending to the wound in his throat. He will be fine. In fact, I would be surprised if he has not already awakened,” Morgone said. “Now, you--”

“Legolas is alive!”

“Yes, dear.”

Joy blossomed inside of Ciendriel. Tears began to stream down her face, tears of relief of happiness. Legolas lived! She would see him again, hold him again, love him again. She had not brought death to him. “Truly? Truly alive?”

“Ciendriel, please, be calm,” Morgone said. “The boy is alive, yes.”

“Did you know last night that he was alive, Haldir?” Ciendriel said, her joy exploding and turning into ferocious anger.

Haldir smiled slightly. “I may have.”

“You bastard!” She launched herself out of the bed at him, aiming a fist at his face. Her whole body slammed into him, knocking him back against the wall, but he caught her hands in his and avoided the fist.

“Ciendriel!” Morgone cried. “This is not appropriate behavior.”

“You were looking for comfort, Princess, and I gave it,” Haldir said evenly. “Do not blame me for your own desires.”

“You should have told me!”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

“I am going to kill you!”

“Ciendriel, stop that immediately!” Morgone commanded in a tone that told Ciendriel she should not be ignored. Haldir let go of her hands. Slowly, shaking with anger, Ciendriel took a step back from him.

“I will never, ever marry you, Haldir of Lorien,” she swore.

“Hold your tongue!” Morgone said.

“You did not ask me if he was still alive, Princess,” Haldir said smoothly. “In any event, it is not your decision to make, nor is it mine. We leave this in the hands of our elders. Now, if you will put on the robe you will find in that pile of clothing, I will escort you to the bathing chamber of Thranduil. I think you will find it very pleasant.”

Morgone nodded. “Well said, Haldir. Perhaps, Ciendriel, it would have been easier for you had you not known at all.”

“Mother!”

Morgone shook her head. “It is not like you to be so disobedient. Have I not ever guided you as I saw best?”

“You have indeed, Mother, yet this is one path I must choose for myself. I love Legolas, and he loves me.” She picked up the robe from the pile of clothing and slipped it on. She turned back to Haldir.

“Take me to Legolas, Haldir,” she said hoarsely. Haldir looked at Morgone.

“I do not think you should see him,” Morgone said firmly. Haldir looked back at Ciendriel and spread his hands as if in apology.

“Never mind. I will find him myself, then,” Ciendriel hissed. She pushed past Haldir and marched out into the hallway. She would find Legolas if she had to open every door in the palace.