Thranduil was sorting through the various parcels and packages that had been sent to him via the inter-realm messenger service. A few of the books he had wanted were not in the delivery, and he had not had a chance to question the library messenger about this before she had made a hasty return to Lothlorien on some apparently urgent business. There was a knock at the door, which was standing ajar, and the king was not surprised to look up and see Mary standing there.

"I heard that the messenger came," she said as she entered, not waiting for his permission to do so. "Did she bring anything interesting to read?" She was resigned to hearing a negative reply, as she had so often heard in the past, but she was ever hopeful.

"Here," said the king, handing over a couple of slim volumes that had come with the latest delivery. "I thought you might like to look at these."

Mary opened one of the books and let out a happy laugh when she recognized old Bilbo's spidery script upon the parchment pages. "It's a translation of the Lay of Beleriand!" she cried. "And the Tale of Luthien and Beren. I have heard about these. They must have come from Erestor's private collection?"

"Yes," answered the king. "I wrote him for advice on the type of reading material a mortal female might find interesting and he suggested those, and more, but only those have come. Unfortunately the messenger has already left for Lorien, so I am unable to determine why the other books he recommended were not included."

Before she could ask him what had prompted him to make such a request from the Rivendell librarian, the king answered Mary's yet to be formed question. "Was that not you I heard complaining about a lack of good stories in my bookcase?"

"I wasn't complaining, exactly," she replied. "I was just making an observation, is all. All you have to read are war books and they don’t even have good pictures. Boring."

She noticed the king had left the message bag on his desk so she opened it and peeked inside. "There's something else in there," she pointed out.

At the bottom of the bag was a scroll, tightly wrapped and sealed, and only one elf he knew of was so meticulous about the post. "Ah," said Thranduil. "A letter from Erestor. Let us see what the latest news from Imladris could be." He sat in his chair, unfurled the message and read it silently to himself.

Mary stood beside him, looking over his shoulder at the graceful elvish lettering. Now that she was beginning to take lessons in the ancient language, she could recognize a few of the words, but still she wished he would translate it for her. And so he did:

"To His Royal Highness, King Thranduil Oropherion, Ruler and Keeper of Greenwood the Great:" he began.

"Erestor still refers to your realm as Greenwood the Great," said Mary. "I think that is so sweet." The king snorted. And then continued to read:

"Your Majesty, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health. I am writing on behalf of my Lord Elrond in regards to certain unpleasant incidents that happened to your son, the much honored and loved Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Thranduilion, during his recent stay in our fair city..."

"Oh, no!" cried Mary. "Something bad happened to Legolas? Why didn't you tell me?" She knew full well that the king was quite aware of the status of his son's health every moment of the day, as he was aware of the health of all of his subjects, and indeed all the living things that dwelt within his realm.

"Do not worry about my son," said the king reassuringly. "He is quite capable of fighting his own battles. Let us see what Erestor reports of the incident."

"Perhaps it is best that I begin at the beginning," wrote Erestor. "As you are aware already, Lord Elrond called for a council of all unbonded male elves to meet well near a month ago in Imladris. The topic of discussion was the winter holiday known as Valentine's Day that is celebrated by the race of Men. Lord Elrond, always in search of knowledge, wished to further his research by observing the techniques used on Valentine's Day by various elves on a group of ladies in the controlled environment of Imladris."

"Wow!" Mary interrupted. The king lifted a warning eyebrow at her outburst but she continued undaunted. "It sounds like a bunch of helpless guinea pigs trapped in a pen. Not having a moment's worth of peace and quiet, probably forced to perform a lot of unseemly types of behavior. Those poor elves! I hope Glorfindel is okay." She shook her head at the idea.

The king frowned at her concern over the Noldo balrog slayer, but he continued:

"Unfortunately for most involved, many of the plans did not work as expected."

"Ha!" shouted Mary, "Why am I not surprised? Controlled indeed! Like any elf can control a flock of mortal females."

"This resulted," the king read aloud, "in many unexpected events, including, but not limited to, your son running through the Last Homely House with naught but his skin to cover him." Mary gasped.

"See! I told you!" she cried. "I just knew it! Poor Legolas!" The king continued:

"While we regret that such an educational program led to such results, it was the ladies who initiated this regrettable act, and was not condoned by the owners or staff of the Last Homely House."

"I bet Lord Elrond's house-elves are still cleaning up the mess they made." Mary said, clucking her tongue as she imagined it.

"What happened on the final night of the experiment, however," read the king, "can not be looked upon as anything but unseemly, and I apologize on behalf of my Lord Elrond for his behavior and comments, especially those which were said directly to your son. He was influenced by the large quantities of alcohol he imbibed and would personally write this letter of apology to you if it were not for the obvious headache he now has."

"Well," huffed Mary. "It serves him right, then, I hope he has a headache for a month if poor Legolas suffered because of him and his crazy experiment." The king chuckled at her distress. He took her hand, pulled her around to stand before him, and drew her down onto his lap.

"My son is very capable of looking out for himself amongst a flock of mortal maids after all the thousands of years of practice he has had." said the king. "I am quite sure he was not as embarrassed over being seen in a state of undress as is being presented."

"I wonder where Gimli was?" speculated Mary. "He would have had that axe swinging if anyone tried to mess with Legolas."

She snuggled closer to the king and looked up into his face. "So," she asked. "Did Erestor say if anyone figured out what us girls really want from elves for Valentine’s Day?"

Thranduil lifted the letter and read aloud the last few lines:

"I hope Greenwood is prospering and that you and those of your kingdom are doing well. Again, my deepest and most sincere apologies on the behalf of my Lord Elrond." This time, Mary snorted.

Thranduil finished: "Humbly yours, Master Erestor of Imladris" After a moments pause, the king laid the scroll on his desk, then remarked, "As far as the experiment went, apparently not much was learned that interests me. Do you have anything to share that might have enlightened him? I could send a letter back in the next post."

"I sure do! You tell him from me that there is really only one thing that mortal females desire from elves on Valentine's Day, or any other day for that matter." Mary cuddled closer to the king and played with a lock of his silky hair that lay across his chest. "And it has nothing to do with candy or flowers or silly love poems." The king gently stroked his large hand over her cheek and lifted her face to meet his as he bent to kiss her.

"And I know," she whispered, before his mouth descended upon hers, "that you know exactly what that is, too, don't you?" And of course, Thranduil, being the wisest of all elves, did indeed know exactly what that was.