The winding staircases of Lothlorien brought her ever nearer to her destination, ever closer to the shining pavilion that gleamed underneath the woodland stars. Though the night was dark, her footsteps were quick and true, leading her past guards and sentries until she reached the base of the grand staircase that rose to meet her parents' ruling seat. After kneeling quickly in a needless display of respect, she rose and darted up the final flight of stairs before coming to rest at several feet from her intended destination. Pausing outside the barred door of their private chambers, she caught muttered words of impassioned conversation. Her father's voice, slightly agitated, came through first.
"And you are certain that this is the intended path?"
Her mother's words, slow and measured, followed in kind.
"I have foreseen it. It is the way."
There was a sigh, followed by the shuffling of feet and the rustling of parchment. Then a voice sounded that she did not recognize. It was deep and rumbled through the doorway. It held none of the light and prophecy that oft accompanied her parent's speech. Rather, it was dark, cavernous like the far reaches of the abysmal forests, and was tinged with arrogance.
"Your visions have been wrong before. The darkness corrupts all – even you, Lady Galadriel."
"Measure your words wisely, Elvenking," her father snapped, putting feigned emphasis on the title. "You forget yourself."
A soft chuckle came from the deep voice, from this Elvenking.
"Tell me, Lord Celeborn," he responded, "Could you forget the most important elf in your kingdom? How much more could I forget myself?"
"Much as your conversation enthralls me," her mother broke in, her voice cool and clear and refreshing as a mountain stream amidst the bickering speech of the two men, "I do believe we have company."
Her breath hitched in her throat as she moved to back away from the door, but to no avail. The heavy entry swung open, and she found herself looking into the blazing eyes of her father. Never before had she seen him so angry. The calm of Lord Celeborn was legendary – it nearly rivaled the composure of his Lady wife. She wondered at what would demand such passion from him.
"Erulastiel. Join us please, good daughter," came his voice, stiff with the effort of maintaining his cool façade.
She did not need further instruction. Sweeping into the room, she found a spot standing against the wall, mere steps from her mother. Across the room, leaning lazily from a chair and resting against the grand table, sat the third voice Erulastiel had heard from outside the room – the voice of this Elvenking.
"How do you fare, Erulastiel?" came her mother's voice.
Erulastiel turned, hoping to find answers in Galadriel's eyes. She found them guarded as usual. Her resolve heightening, she decided to observe the courtesies – for the time being.
"I fare well, mother," she responded. "The borders remain guarded and strong. None passed during my watch. I left the precinct in Haldir's most capable hands the moment I received your summons."
She would have continued, but her words were cut short by a soft laugh in the corner, coming from the Elvenking's mouth.
"Does something amuse you, King Thranduil?" her father asked, now seated across from their guest.
Thranduil. Erulastiel knew that name. She had learned it long ago in her studies, had heard it whispered through the halls of Lothlorien. Thranduil, the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil, the elf who holed up his kingdom in great, dark caverns where the starlight barely reached. Thranduil, whose love of riches and all things corporeal proved him lesser among the elven rulers. What was this so-called King doing in their halls?
"I simply would not expect the daughter of the great Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel to be stationed as a common sentry," came the reply from Thranduil, his voice tinged with amusement.
Her Lord father seethed from across the room. Galadriel noticed his reaction as well, and maintained composure in her response.
"Do you have children, King Thranduil?" she asked calmly.
Thranduil smirked at her, gazing evenly at her mother over the brim of a golden goblet. He raised it slightly in Erulastiel's direction, then tipped it back and downed its contents in a single swallow. Tossing it to the table, he allowed it to roll and clatter onto the floor before answering the question.
"I had thought that this meeting would solve that slight inconvenience," he responded evenly, his eyes shifting from Galadriel to Erulastiel in one smooth movement.
An uneasy silence filled the room. Erulastiel's eyes darted around, desparately trying to make contact with Galadriel's eyes, but she had turned from her daughter and now stood at the balcony of their small council chamber. She again tried to meet her father's eyes, and momentarily succeeded before he dropped them to some parchment upon the table. Warily, as a final resort, she turned her gaze on Thranduil. He did not disappoint.
Waves of emotion ran over her. Triumph and immense sorrow, death and pain – so much pain, she felt it coursing through her veins – regret and shame and misery, flashes of imagined, shallow joy amidst the hurt, then nothing as his eyes closed and turned away from her. Breathing heavily, Erulastiel grabbed for the back of the nearest chair, missing her mark through the lingering pain. She started to fall to the stone surface, but strong arms halted her decent. She had no need to look to their owner – Thranduil's chair was now empty, his hands grasping her arms and preventing her fall.
"Thank you, King Thranduil," she muttered, embarrassed at her clumsiness. She was a great archer and protector of Lothlorien, not some common ranger.
Thranduil said nothing, only returned to his seat and stared at her curiously. After several moments of silence, he spoke first.
"You have the gift," he said simply. Standing and pacing the room, he stopped to look intently at Celeborn and Galadriel. "I was not informed of this."
"What does it matter? It changes nothing," Celeborn responded, his previous anger seemingly under some control.
"It changes everything!" Thranduil hissed, his previous cool façade gone, his words seething under the threat of thinly veiled violence. "Do you mean for her to be your little spy? To report on the movements and motivations of my kingdom?"
Galadriel had turned away from the balcony at the sound of the argument. She moved silently to her daughter's side, brushing against her shoulder with a calming hand. As the two men fought, Erulastiel looked up and into her mother's deep eyes, eyes that were momentarily and purposefully unguarded. Several moments passed. Erulastiel lowered her eyes and looked sadly toward her father, who felt her gaze and turned away from Thranduil. Silence passed for many moments.
"You mean to join our kingdoms," she said finally, her voice soft, full of pain and betrayal. "You mean to wed me to this, this false king of Mirkwood. I will spend my days a figurehead, a distraction, a member of some false court, away from the trees I call home and far from the freedom you have taught me to love."
She closed her eyes, fighting the tears that promised to flow forth. They snapped open as Thranduil spoke.
"Perhaps you should learn some respect, little one," he seethed, clenching tight hands behind his back in a feeble effort to contain his anger. "Or you will see just how unworthy a king I can be."
Celeborn gasped and moved away from the table, making slow steps toward the Elvenking who threatened his daughter. Galadriel sighed deeply and cut off her husband's movement with measured words.
"Enough, all of you. Tonight, we shall retire, for the hour grows late and the skies grow dark. Tomorrow, Erulastiel will accompany Thranduil to the Woodland Realm for a single moon to allow for marriage preparation."
Three voices began to rise in protest. Galadriel silenced them all with a raised hand and a piercing stare.
"All has not yet been revealed, not even to me. But this marriage is of great necessity, although it pains all affected," she finished wearily, glancing at her daughter and husband in turn. She turned to Thranduil. "King Thranduil, I would be most grateful if you escorted Erulastiel to her chambers."
"I need no escort."
"She has guards for that purpose."
Erulastiel and Thranduil's voices sounded simultaneously, both balking at Galadriel's request. But this was Lady Galadriel, and both knew how their protests would end.
Moments later, Thranduil was guiding Erulastiel from the small council chamber; his arm and hand wrapped around hers. They glided past sentries posted along the staircase and walked through throngs of elves gathered to catch a glimpse of the Elvenking. Erulastiel kept a smile on her face for the sake of her people.
They could not know that Thranduil's grip grew ever tighter around her wrist.