I drew in a deep, shaky breath and stretched my hands.
The gentle sounds of conversation and the smells of finely prepared food reached me, even through the tall, ornately carved double doors that led into the Great Hall at Mirkwood.
I didn't notice the architecture anymore, having grown up in the Elvenking's court, but visitors gaped to see it. Indeed, we often entertained friends from the outside who had come for the sole purpose of observing it. And young ellith and ellyn in training endured hours of lectures on the history of the buildings and their unmatched style. The beauty of the Mirkwood court is truly remarkable.
Tonight, soft light glowed upon the floor from the other side, and having dined often enough with the court, I knew what I would find when the doors opened.
It was the eve of the Summer Solstice celebration, one of our favored observances.
But it was made even more tumultuous by the fact that I was coming out this evening as an eligible Sindarin elleth.
On top of this, I would be performing for everyone, and I expected to be promptly lambasted, my every note dissected and weighed. Years of training had gone into this moment. I had undergone singing lessons, dancing lessons, riding lessons, martial arts, elocution, history, and languages. I knew the right ways to sit and stand and the proper way to arrange hair, arrange flowers, even arrange one's very features in a social situation. All this, and I felt far from ready.
But that didn't matter. This was happening anyway.
Behind me, two ellith and an ellon stood, nervously shaking out their limbs or bouncing on the balls of their feet. Khidell was planning to serenade the court with his pipe. Tanulia was to tell a story, and Vestele would dance. We were each told to exhibit our strengths. I was the lone singer of the group.
I went back over my piece, attempting to recall the lyrics. I was just beginning to panic, not being able to remember the second line, when the great double doors opened, and it was time to go in.
Hundreds of elves filled the hall.
The floorplan was traditional for us, but would be considered unusual by other standards. Graceful open pagodas flowed seamlessly into one another, the gleaming floors standing at different heights. Outside, the green and grey of Mirkwood forest sighed and swayed in a bewitching breeze, adding to the festivities in its own graceful way.
It appeared as though every open space inside had been utilized, set with bentwood tables and chairs. The soft lights gleamed off of the precious stones, crystal and glass, and the polished flatware positively shone.
If it were any other year, I would already have a belly full of wine and meat, merry with drink and good company. This time, the thought of food repulsed me.
As the oldest, I led us up toward the south dais. I could hear Vestele's slippered feet behind me. Every one of us stood tall and stately, walking toe-heel, toe-heel, as we had been taught, betraying absolutely none of the dread or fear we felt.
The attendees of the celebration were silent, observing. I could feel their eyes on us, and suddenly became conscious of my soft, brown hair hanging against my spine.
I had two tiny braids starting behind my ears, as was fashionable, and the rest had been gathered in a low, loose tail halfway down my back. I wore no ornaments. Inside my long, trailing sleeves, I clenched my hands. There was a correct way to do everything, and Valar, I would do it tonight or I would have no future at court.
There was shuffling on the north dais at the other side of the hall, and though aware of the noise and movement, I kept my eyes trained in front of me, intent on my goal. The north dais was where the upper echelon sat—our nobles and high clergy—and of course, our king and his son.
Finally, my foot found the first step up to the south dais, and my companions and I filed into place before our four chairs. Together, without glancing to the side at one another, we sank into our seats in perfect unison, and I imagined a collective breath released by the whole elven gathering. The guests began to speak again at last, the low murmur of conversation welling up like water from a spring. At least I hadn't tripped. The first test—we had passed it.
"Indeed, the whole foul population ought to be rooted out and destroyed, Thranduil," insisted Illitran Reyren, still talking about the spiders. As commander general, he was ever concerned for his soldiers, especially just outside the bounds of Mirkwood where the beasts were most plentiful.
Always the spiders with that one, Thranduil thought, irritated. "They are contained, Reyren. The guard has seen to that." His voice was cold and clipped.
"But are you really so satisfied, my King?" Reyren continued. We have committed ourselves to maintenance of the realm in this respect, rather than rooting out the problem at its core."
"Please, Reyren," interrupted Connak, the foreign affairs advisor. "The King finds this subject noisome. Shouldn't we be more concerned with the solstice? Ayduin will be casting stones and reading them this evening, won't you?" An elf with long, sleek, nearly black hair nodded at him. "And what of our proteges?" Connak continued. "We have the performances to look forward to."
Thranduil gave Connak an appreciative nod.
"My apologies, my King," Reyren said, inclining his head slightly toward the head of the table. "I will save defense strategies for another day."
Before the Elvenking could reply, there was movement from the south dais.
The fine arts leader had risen to her feet, her soft robes reflecting the lamplight. "Greetings," she said silkily, "and happy solstice." Her voice filled the room without being strident.
"Happy solstice," the collective group murmured warmly.
She smiled. "I am Hamalitia Valtris, overseer of fine arts in the court of Mirkwood. I am happy to present to the conclave these young ones; ellith Filauria Ilitris, Vestele Nerican, and Tanulia Leoric, and ellon Khidell Eildove. They have been fully trained and are celebrating their aging this evening."
Thranduil cast across the room lazily. His keen eyes could easily see to the south dais, even far away as it was. This ceremony was cursory, of course. In his hundreds of years of life, he had seen countless elves come of age, all beautiful, all accomplished. He was bored with it all.
But next to him, his son Legolas sat up a little straighter, peering at the young elves.
"I would encourage you to continue on with your evening conversation during the entertainment. Respond if you wish," continued Hamalitia. She turned to the four young elves. "On behalf of the court of Mirkwood, and his Highness Thranduil Elvenking, I congratulate and welcome you to our ranks."
There was a collective scraping of chair legs against the polished floor, and the entire community rose in a flutter of whispering robes. Silvery applause echoed throughout the chamber of the Great Hall. Vestele, Filauria, Tanulia and Khidell watched, overwhelmed. The ellith were teary, and the ellon bowed his head, humbled. After a moment, the applause died down and the guests began to take their seats once more.
There was a pregnant silence then.
I felt uneasy. The positive affirmation left me with a heady feeling of triumph, true. But I was anxious to get on with the evening. Tanulia's performance was first. What are we waiting for? I wondered.
Then I realized that everyone was looking at the King.
Heads swiveled to face the north dais, and shuffling sounds filled the hall.
Thranduil was staring straight at us. Over the whispers, he slowly raised his hand in a gesture of salute. The court took this as a signal for the festivities to begin, and Tanulia rose to take the dais.