[ he hadn't a penchant for collecting things. books were his only vice, and those wound up in the library once he was done. oh, there are his papers, a few things from home (the rings ever on his fingers, a crown tucked away under floorboards) and several outfits, but they tidy away neatly. sam, he suspects, wouldn't be happy with anything less. he takes her hand, gives it a gentle squeeze.

(why couldn't his foster-daughter have been like this? this was much easier to soothe away with quiet, steady affection and a warm, safe place.) ]

It upsets you, Beleth. That is enough for me to consider it important.

[ she is good, and kind, and she may be short and thranduil knows that she cuts her hair without thought as to the pain of it, and wedding for her is different than the quendi, but she is all an elf ought to be, allowing for the-- drift in morals. she does not raise her hand in anger. she takes no joy in bloodshed. she loves her family.

his answer is easy: ]

Yes. I thought myself in love with the daughter of my lord King.