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[mansuetus]

Tranquility!

[ Guess who is back in her high spirits. Lucrezia is wearing red silks and is evidently strolling the gardens this morning ]

It is my birthday today, I have decided.

[ a pause in which she just looks pleased with herself and then she explains ]

As I do not know how to count the days here when compared with the count common in Rome, I have chosen today for my birthday. I shall accept my greetings at the garden.

[ prim and proper but those who know her by now can see the jest in her words. ]

And I have decided what I wish as my gift, if you would hear it!

[ wait for it. ]

For the birthday of the one called the illustrious Lucrezia Borgia, me and garden both require - a swing!

[ a beat. ]

And cake.

[ that would actually be all. Lucrezia Borgia, ladies and gentleman. She would be sitting in the garden, reading a book, for those who wish to find her. ]

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[elvenking]

[Drawn in by the merriment of her post, Thranduil (who lives in the gardens) arrives where Lucrezia waits. He likes merry folk, and she has ideas that more people on board should have about celebrating in the midst of trial. His voice and face, however, are ironically grave, and he wears his autumn crown of red leaves and berries as part of the "ceremony."]

I wish you joy on your birthday, Lucrezia Borgia the Illustrious. I have neither a swing nor cake, but will you nevertheless accept a small gift from an elf of the woods?

[He turns in his hands a crown of jasmine flowers gathered from the gardens.]

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[mansuetus]

[ She is sixteen, Lucrezia Borgia. Or so she has decided when she had chosen this birthday for herself. Filled with the joy and pride and youth she brightens at the gift, bows her head so he may place it on her head. ]

Am I queen for the day, then?

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[elvenking]

For the day, Lucrezia. [He doesn't actually know etiquette for when someone has two names, since there's really only a couple of societies in his world that use family names and he has only encountered one of them. No one here has bothered to teach him about proper name usage, so Miss Borgia doesn't come naturally to him.] But the flowers of your gift will not fade till the new season, if such a thing ever comes here, so that you might have a memory of this day.

[It's the same enchantment used on his crown. Otherwise they'd be making him new crowns every few hours, and people have better things to do on a day-to-day basis. At least it's a very small enchantment.

He places the crown on her hair gently, with solemnity.]

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[mansuetus]

[ 'Lucrezia' pleases her above all honorifics as it is and so the smile remains, turns brighter at his next words. ]

Magic? Are you also a magician to fashion me such a gift?

[ she is sixteen, a child in some worlds, a woman in her own but for the moment she looks more of a girl who received a gift she had thought impossible. Something reserved to poems and stories. ]

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[elvenking]

[A twinkle of a smile.] Magician, no, but I know a few spells. There is some difference.

[Once the crown is settled upon her hair, he steps back to assess the arrangement. And quietly marvel at how freaking young she is.]

It suits you well indeed, Lady. You would not be out of place among the wood-elves.

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[mansuetus]

What is the difference between spells and magic? I thought one is the result of the other, but I admit my knowledge of the subject is limited.

[ she smiles at his words, curtsies. ]

Are they very friendly, wood-elves? Would they accept a girl of Rome?

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[elvenking]

Spells are a type of magic, although many may cast spells who are not called magicians. I am a king and not a magician, and my people are perhaps rather shy, but you will scarcely find a merrier folk once they know you.

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[mansuetus]

A king! Then I have misplaced my manners.

[ there are many kings aboard and Lucrezia had met others before the ship and she knows how to greet one. She takes a step back, offers a deep, elegant curtsy. ]

Your Majesty will have to forgive me.

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[elvenking]

All is forgiven. [Isn't she adorable?] But you are Queen for the day, Lady. We are peers--you owe me no deference.

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[mansuetus]

[ she does try :') ]

Can a peer ask a king questions?

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[elvenking]

As many as you like.

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[mansuetus]

Tell me of the elves. I have only ever been in the company of my own kind. I have read of others in poems and stories, are the ladies all beautiful and their voices so lovely that their words sound like bells in the wind?

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[elvenking]

With feet light as linden-leaves and eyes bright as stars. [A faraway look glints in Thranduil's eyes.] The fairest of our kind had hair as dark as the shadows of night, and where she went, the pale niphredil flowers sprang up after her. Her name was Lúthien, but she was called Tinúviel by her mortal lover Beren, for it means Nightingale in our tongue. Many songs are sung of them.

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[mansuetus]

[ A girl at Christmas, Lucrezia Borgia is. To find out that the songs and stories were not all mistaken, were not all misleading. Some beauty remains in the world still. ]

You've known her? The Lady of Beauty.

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[elvenking]

I did. It is said her likeness was born in one of her line, in Arwen Undomiel. But Lúthien Tinúviel passed away long ago. For she loved a mortal, and chose to be mortal and share his fate rather than be parted from him.

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[mansuetus]

A fate both sad and sweet. Worthy of song, indeed.

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[elvenking]

Her father did not approve, and set an impossible bride price for him. For Thingol was king, and Lúthien his greatest treasure and love. Beren attempted the task and would have failed had she not escaped her father's realm and aided him. But the Quest ended in both their deaths. Lúthien dwelt in the Halls of Mandos after the manner of elves, and so sorrowful was her song that Mandos gave her a choice: to remain an Elf and begin a new life, reborn after the manner of our people to dwell in the light of the world again, or to become mortal and return to Middle-earth with Beren, to live a short time with him in happiness and go whither Men go in death. She made her choice, and dwelt with Beren in happiness for a short time. But in choosing, she was sundered from her father and her kindred for ever, beyond the confines of the world.

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[mansuetus]

Love is a cruel thing, that it sets such choices.

[ she thinks of her own loves. Lucrezia is romantic in nature but she does not easily name things as love, for the word is precious and its meaning important. Still, she thinks of Cesare at home, of Robb Stark here, she thinks of choices. ]

Must we always part from something to truly love? It is a cruel fate.

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[elvenking]

Not always. [He tries to meet her eyes and gives a faint smile.] I have not been parted from my love for these nearly three thousand years we have been wedded, and she is lovelier than the day I first knew her.

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[mansuetus]

[ Oh Thranduil, you will make her weep. She leans back against the tree, a small smile on her lips. ]

And this ship dared do that. Separate what should not have been separated at all.

[ she thinks of her father and her mother, of her father's Giulia. Of having a mistress at all. Perhaps it is indeed in the nature of men to sin. ]

She is your queen.

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[elvenking]

She would not wish to be called such. Her heart lies in the woods and rivers, not in thrones and politics. But a few months is not long to my kind, and though I may long for her, I know we will not be parted for ever.

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[mansuetus]

Your Grace would revive my faith in marriage, a fine birthday gift indeed.

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[elvenking]

Why, whatever would make you lose it? Perhaps you mortals must hurry it, as you must with all else. We make not such choices lightly, for we have the time to consider for many years.

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[mansuetus]

My marriage did. They were not as I expected it to be.

[ to say the least. She was certain she would not be beaten, she was certain she would be adored, for she was used to it. ]

It was not I who was hurrying, Your Grace. The pieces were moving on the board and my Holy Father needed an ally. A marriage is the safest way to bind an ally to you.

Or make an ally out of an enemy.

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[elvenking]

[A sympathetic look.] I am sorry indeed. Children should not know strife, least of all between their parents.

[Though really, she could very nearly be a child herself.]