Eleven months ago

The Harvest Rite was the most important of the wood elves’ festivals and—because, as Lord of Eryn Carantaur, Legolas would be performing it for the first time—his father, King Thranduil, had sent his own Mistress of the Ceremony to prepare his son. For three months the terrifying elleth had lectured Legolas on the mysteries of the Rite, insisting that he remain ‘pure in body and spirit’ during his period of preparation…

…

“The Rite is a sacrifice to the gods,” said Arwen to Eowyn. “It takes place on the ceremonial threshing floor. When it is time, Legolas must choose a lady from the company and lead her onto the floor. Then the Mistress of the Ceremony,” she pointed to the forbidding elleth sitting beside Legolas, “will join them, as if in marriage. And Legolas must consummate the marriage by making love to her.”

“He takes her to his chambers?” asked Eowyn, thinking how painful it would be to sit waiting in the Banqueting Hall knowing that Legolas and his lady were making love elsewhere. And then to see them return, the elleth flushed with pleasure—

“No, sweeting,” said Elrohir, “he takes her here.”

Eowyn's blood ran cold. “And we must watch?”

“We must play our part in the Rite,” said Arwen. “The guests find themselves excited by the Rite. It has been known for them to spend the whole night making love, some of them giving pleasure to many partners. It is a beautiful festival.”

…

A group of excited ellith, carefully selected by Legolas’ Chief Counsellor, was seated, with their families, at the far side of the table. When the time came, the Valar would help him make his choice.

Legolas tried to remember the girls’ names. There was Idril, the daughter of Tathar, a highly respected sword smith. She seemed a quiet, likeable elleth. There was Nerwen, the daughter of Findecáno, one of the colony’s healers. She seemed pleasant enough, if a little drunk at present. Then there was Angaráto’s daughter, Alatáriël. Valar! That elleth thought of nothing but sex. The number of times he had tactfully had to repel her clumsy advances! Tonight she looked ridiculous, her bodice cut too low and her skirts revealing her thighs.

The rest of them he simply could not remember.

Legolas sighed. He supposed they were all pleasant enough, and could all be considered attractive—though they were not to his taste. Not like Eowyn.

…

“My lord, it is time,” said the Mistress of the Ceremony, placing a goblet in Legolas' hand.

The lord of Eryn Carantaur took a deep breath, lifted the goblet to his lips, drained it, and waited expectantly.

Nothing happened. He looked slowly around the assembled company, examining each female face in turn. Nothing was different. None of the eligible ellith had changed in any way.

Something must be wrong, he thought. Perhaps the Valar will not bless our Harvest Rite. Perhaps, by lusting after Eowyn when I should have been secluded in meditation, I have doomed the entire colony to bad harvests…

But then he saw—out of the corner of his eye—a faint silvery glow surrounding one of his guests. And, as he turned to watch, the glow grew into an aura, shimmering and sparkling and completely surrounding the lady who, suddenly becoming aware of his attention, dropped her gaze and stared fixedly at the table.

No, thought Legolas, it is just your wishful thinking. She is mortal and already married. The Valar would never give her to you. And yet, when he looked once more at the rest of his female guests, he could see quite clearly that she was the only one who was glowing...

The Valar had answered his prayer!

He stumbled to his feet and, with something less than elven grace, half ran towards the radiant woman, holding out his hand: “My lady?”

A murmur of surprise—and some disapproval—rippled through his guests, but Legolas ignored it. The Valar have answered my prayer, he thought, she is my heart's own choice.

“My lady?”

Slowly, the woman raised her eyes and studied his face. For a long, heart-faltering moment Legolas though she might refuse him. But then she rose to her feet and accepted his hand.

And suddenly, Legolas could restrain himself no longer—he swept Eowyn into his arms and whirled her round and carried her—both of them laughing—to the centre of the threshing floor, where he lowered her to the ground and kissed her, passionately.

Now read on!