Nenni stood up so hurriedly, she almost knocked the chair over. She turned toward him and knelt...desperately trying to recall if any of her words had been disrespectful toward him. King Thranduil approached so close that his robes brushed her face. For the first time, she had a clear enough head to notice his scent. She'd always noticed every person's smell, she smelled everything. She'd given serious consideration to perhaps having been part dog, in another life, and she'd often been teased about her liberal use of the olfactory sense. If every scent was like his, she thought, how lovely it would be. He smelled of cedar and lavender, and she decided then and there that if she had to spend eternity locked in his wardrobe, surrounded by that perfume, that there would be worse fates in the world.
She felt his long fingers under her jaw, gently raising her head up. He did that quite a lot, she mused. Ordinarily she did not tolerate the touch of strangers, but she had a consuming sense that he would not harm her. That and, she was fairly sure she had no choice but to allow him anything he wished, he was King.
"Stand," he said "and look at me." She obeyed, and for the first time really considered him. Her senses were all functioning, today. Including the sixth one, which pain and extreme distraction could silence. His was a tremendous presence. His eyes held a great depth; they were not ordinary, and not only because of their color or intensity. There was a sense of weight, and an aura of strength, emanating from his body...and something else. Something that shielded itself carefully, behind an unreadable exterior. The first two meant little to Nenni, but the third intrigued her. She wondered what he hid, and why it was necessary. This man, this elf, was every inch a King.
"Do you have anything you wish to say?" he asked, with the faintest smirk.
Why the smirk, she wondered? She glanced down, then locked eyes with him again. "Yes," she answered. "I don't understand how, or why, but I believe I am in your debt not only for sparing my life, but for saving it in the first place. Thank you. I'm truly grateful for that, and for..." she trailed off, breaking eye contact.
"For what?" he demanded.
"You healed me. You healed me of my injuries, but you did more than that. I am free of pain in my body for the first time in many years. It was an unexpected gift. Thank you." That sounded nauseatingly maudlin, but it was the truth. There was silence.
"I expected," he paused, "that I would be hearing of your unhappiness with the circumstances by which you are now bound here."
She now saw just a little curiosity, in his blue eyes. "I will confess, my Lord, that in my world, a pledge made with execution as the alternative is not considered to be a pledge made freely. But unless I have gone mad, and all this is a dream, I am no longer on Earth. You are King, this is your kingdom, and under the circumstances, my own ideas about fairness don't really matter. They wouldn't have mattered if you were King Henry VIII."
King Thranduil looked at her with a growing expression of puzzlement. "Your name, Nenni. Is that a common name in your world?"
"No, my Lord, it is not. It is a nickname. My mother named me Adonnenniel, because my grandmother insisted on it. Which is not only beyond strange for a name, it is far too difficult for most people to remember, or pronounce. So I call myself 'Nenni,' for the convenience of others."
King Thranduil froze and his eyes widened. She could swear he'd gone pale, which is saying a lot for one of the fair folk. He had the look of someone who is about to say something, then changes his mind. "You are most... unusual. You will dine with me tomorrow evening, and you will tell me of this King Henry VIII." With that he released her gaze and stepped away. "One other thing", he said, pausing at the door.
"Yes, my King?"
"You need not kneel each time we meet. You are now my subject, not my captive."
"As you wish, my Lord" she said to his departing robes. Nenni was not sure she would ever understand the nuances of of monarchy. After King Thranduil had been gone a moment, Tinivel reappeared. "Had you known he was in here, listening?" Nenni fired at Tinivel.
"No, I did not...but such is his way. He moves among his people a great deal of the time, hearing and seeing what he will. He does not rule from on high, but makes an effort to know as much as he can. I know he can seem terrifying, and his moods and anger can be unenjoyable, but I know in my heart he truly cares for all of us. And, of late he has changed. He is kinder now, less quick to anger."
Nenni reflected for a moment. "Did something happen to him?" she asked.
Tinivel replied carefully, "It is said that he experienced great loss, long ago. He is much older than I, and I have lived for over a thousand years. Out of respect, we do not speak of it."
Nenni had forgotten about that. In the books, the elves were immortal, living forever unless their lives were cut down by battle or similar occurrence. Her heart went out to him...enduring loss was the bane of existence.
"Tinivel," Nenni said, " is there a place I might be alone for awhile? Like a garden, or a pleasantly lit room, somewhere away from the hearing of others? I feel a need to rest and to think. And...King Thranduil told me I am to eat with him tomorrow night. I don't know what that entails, or if there are customs and etiquette to be observed. I don't even know where to go, or when."
Tinivel's eyebrows shot straight up. "Yes, there most certainly are considerations. The first being, you will need far better attire for such an occasion. He honors you greatly, with this invitation." She thought a moment. "First we must go to the seamstresses, so that they have time to create a suitable gown. And then, I believe I know of a place in which you may enjoy some solitude."
"I cannot thank you enough", Nenni replied. And she meant it.
The paths to the seamstresses' chambers seemed to wind on for a good quarter mile. No one who lives here can be physically unfit, she thought to herself. While she'd walked a great deal on her little farm, she was certain that life here would mean mileage. They arrived at the open doorway of a vast room that put any fabric store on earth to shame. Nenni stared in disbelief at the endless bolts of different fabrics, in a riot of colors and patterns. It would take a month, just to understand the system by which they were organized.
A smiling elleth approached them. "Good afternoon, Ardethwis". Tinivel said. "This is Nenni, who is to take the evening meal with the King tomorrow. She cannot present herself for this honor wearing these garments. Would you create something suitable?"
A broad smile leaped across the face of Ardethwis. Nenni felt that somehow, she had made Ardethwis' entire day complete. A flurry of measuring ensued, with notes taken of her skin tone, eye and hair color. "Do you have favorite colors, Nenni?" Ardethwis asked.
Nenni's hair was a luxurious copper red, and she did enjoy certain shades. "Purple, like the color of eggplants, blue/greens, black, and the colors of autumn leaves. And please...no pink!"
Ardethwis smiled, already imagining designs.
"Shall I return tomorrow afternoon?" asked Tinivel.
"Most certainly", Ardethwis replied. "I shall have this prepared not later than two hours after the midday meal."
As they departed, Nenni felt bewildered. "A person merely asks for clothing, and it is personally designed and tailored to suit any occasion?" she asked. Quickly adding, "And I am sorry that I failed to mention my thanks for the clothes I am wearing now. I am afraid the garments I had before are..."
"Do not feel that you have imposed", interrupted Tinivel. "This is our custom, and our King sees that we are well provided with all that we require. And I am sorry to say...the remains of your clothing were appropriated by the rug-weavers with great haste."
Nenni burst out laughing. "Pretty bad, huh?"
"Indeed", said Tinivel firmly.
"Well, that's farming."
They arrived, after a much shorter walk, to a large and simple chamber that held books, a few chairs, large floor cushions, and beautiful wall hangings patterned with vines and flowers. Nenni loved that so much in the Realm was patterned after the natural world above. "Will this suit?" Tinivel asked.
"Yes, wonderfully so...but I could not find my way back if I tried. How will I find you, and how much time may I have?"
"The evening meal is in two hours," Tinivel pointed to a table across the room. "You see the hourglass there? Start it, turn it once it empties, and I shall return not long before the last of the sand runs out." With that, she departed.
Nenni felt well, maybe even a little happy. But change was stressful, even if it was good change. She thought perhaps she should spend most of her time trying to relax, and sing. Feeling like she wished to sing was the real reason she'd asked for such isolation. Nenni could never really understand it herself, as she enjoyed performing, why she desperately needed to believe no one could listen to her practice. And, it had been awhile. Singing had been to tied to her well-being, and she hadn't sung a note in months. She'd studied for years, with professional teachers, to gain some mastery over the complex vocal art that seemed so deceptively simple to an onlooker. Nenni often compared the study of voice, privately, to trying to balance with one foot on a beachball while juggling teacups and reciting poetry. Backwards. And the last and hardest hurdle to navigate had been her own anxiety, and the bodily tension that went with it.
She worked her slow way through a routine of stretches, yoga poses, deep breathing. And finally, began to test a few vowels. These first notes acted as a barometer, because they revealed right away if this was going to be a good practice or a bad one. Since no singer can hear themselves, they are taught to identify a string of bodily sensations that accompany the creation of vocal sound. One of many things, Nenni mused, that made absolutely no sense to those outside the craft. She was surprised and pleased, that everything felt fine. More than fine, really.
First the middle range, then the lower, then most of the high register. Hers was a light coloratura soprano, best suited to the Baroque music of Earth. With a pang she realized, that music might be gone from her forever, save for what few pieces she still might have memorized. This thought threatened to plunge her into sadness, and she hurriedly shook it off. She took a deep breath and began the Abendempfindung, by Mozart. She threw herself into the expressive lyrics as she'd never done before. And at the end, after the last note died away, she burst into tears. She cried until there was nothing left to cry.
Maybe that hadn't been the best choice...however lovely, the entire song was about death and loss. And she'd lost her husband, and her farm, and her world without having had a moment to mourn it. She had to clean up. Nenni didn't want Tinivel finding her like this, and she always looked a mess after she'd been crying. It would take her face and eyes time to un-swell, not to mention having needed to unceremoniously use the inside of her under-skirt for a handkerchief. She really needed to ask about handkerchiefs. She lay down on a few of the floor pillows, to collect her thoughts and close her eyes for a moment.
Tinivel shook her gently awake. "Nenni?" she asked with concern, "are you unwell?"
Nenni's cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry, I had not meant to fall asleep. I don't know why I did."
"You need not apologize", she replied. "Your hröa has been through a very great ordeal these last days, and some residual tiredness is to be expected. Do you feel well enough to come to the evening meal?"
"Yes, I do", Nenni said. She was certain that if she wasn't fully awake now, she would be after the next mile hike through the Halls.
The Elvenking returned slowly to his chambers, using his favorite passageways; those seldom intruded upon by others. His reverie was interrupted by the sound of a muted song. His interest piqued, he turned down a maze of corridors to discover the source, and located the door. Most entrances in his realm were fitted with a small disc of metal that swung on its mounting, making it possible to check whether or not it was suitable to enter a given room. He carefully, silently moved this disc just enough to see the singer. When he realized it was Nenni, he quickly closed the disc. She would not be in such a remote location, if she desired an audience. He moved to leave, but found he could not. The song was hauntingly beautiful. He listened to the utterly foreign German words, and found that he could understand:
Werdet ihr dann an meinem Grabe weinen,/Trauernd meine Asche sehn,/Dann, o Freunde, will ich euch erscheinen/Und will himmelauf euch wehn.
He quickly walked away, choked with grief and unable to hear more. And he knew then what he must do; something he'd put off for longer than an age.
Thranduil heard the expected knock upon his door. "Come", he said, with a heavy sigh. All the wine he'd already consumed was not going to make this discussion any easier.
Legolas entered the room. "You sent for me, Ada?"
"Please, sit", he gestured, waving Legolas into a nearby chair, and pouring him wine. He took a very deep breath and looked at his only son. "Ionneg," he said slowly, "this conversation I must have with you will be more difficult for me than centuries of rulership over our people." He paused, as concern spread across Legolas' usually sunny expression. "I must ask for your patience with me, as I have never told another of this."
Legolas, startled, and unused to the barely concealed emotion with which his father clearly struggled, tentatively reached across the table to press his hand upon the King's. "Ada, whatever it is that you wish to tell me, I am here with you."
"I have never spoken of your naneth to you, Legolas, and for that I must ask your forgiveness. I had no right to deprive you of any knowledge of her, when she loved you so very much." He continued slowly, "I have never healed from the pain of losing her. For long years I allowed my heart to harden in bitterness, that of all the Eldar, I alone should suffer such a fate."
Legolas frowned in confusion. "But Ada, will you not one day reunite with her, if you choose to sail into the West?"
"No", said Thranduil, "I will not". The King took a shuddering breath and continued. "Your mother was slaughtered by Ancalagon the Black, as we fought together in the War of Wrath. We became separated from the main part of our host, fighting the orcs at Gundabad, and on a mountainside the dragon found us. We were defenseless against him. When he took your naneth by fire, he created a searing wind, crackling with energy. The Dragonwind left me scarred, and half-blinded. He could easily have engulfed me as well, but left me alive to suffer her loss, knowing that sparing me was a far worse fate. But there was more."
Thranduil steeled himself, and had to muster all his will. "He used the great powers granted him by Morgoth to perform his greatest act of wrenching cruelty. A day does not pass in which I do not recall his bitter words to me. The dragon said: 'Remember for all your days the price of opposing the Lord Melkor, Thranduil, son of Oropher. After this hour will you bear the scars of your defiance. But your wife, your beloved, will perish here today before you, with a finality no power in Arda can undo. She will not journey to the Halls of Mandos. I will sever her fëa from Arda itself. For you, will there be no hope of reuniting, no solace through the long years of your accursed life. Look upon her your last, and despair.' "
Legolas sat, transfixed in horror. "Ada..."
"There is more, Ionneg. It is known among our people that during the Battle of the Five Armies, Tauriel challenged me. She raged at me with the words "There is no love in you." She was right to do so, and her actions that day forced me to awaken to what I had allowed myself to become. Your naneth was kind, and generous in spirit, and it would have grieved her to see me be overtaken by everything that was unlovely to her heart. I began to pray to the Valar for assistance, for the healing of my spirit, and began to seek to better my ways." He paused long before continuing, his voice growing quieter. "Two weeks ago, I received this message from the Lady Galadriel." Thranduil nudged the parchment across the table.
Legolas read for himself: Aran Thranduil. Something is about to happen, which has not happened but once before, in all the ages of Arda. A power will go out, the like of which I have only felt once before. The blessing returned to you will prove to be the healing of your Realm, your lands...and you. Galu.
Legolas looked up. "Ada, what does this mean?"
With yet another heavy sigh, Thranduil said, "Three days ago a human female captive was brought to our halls. This you know. What you could not have known was that when I looked upon her fëa, I saw the fëa of your mother. When I touched her mind to save her life, I felt the spirit that has been kept from me for thousands of years. I was cautious; I told myself that this could not be. I tested her spirit by giving her every reason to believe she faced death at my hand for the crime of trespass. All know that the safety of all our Realm is at risk from any stranger. She proved respectful and compliant, with no malice in her."
He continued, "Today when I spoke with her, I asked her to explain her name. She is called "Nenni", but she offered further that this was a shortened form of her birth name, Adonnenniel. Legolas, your naneth's name is Adonenniel."
Legolas sat many long minutes, frozen into silence. "Ada, what will you do?"
Thranduil stared into his goblet of wine as if it might provide the answers he desperately sought. "I do not fully know, Ionneg. But my heart tells me that for the first time in thousands of years, that there is hope for me. Nenni is not your naneth, not fully. She was sent here from a place outside Arda, and her life's experiences there are her own. I do not believe she yet understands what is happening to her, nor entirely do I. But I can feel in my heart that in her hröa, lives the fëa of my wife and your naneth. I do not understand the fullness of the Valar's will. But I pray I have your blessing, as I try to seek happiness for all three of us."
Legolas stood and walked around the table to his father. Thranduil opened his arms, and for the first time in centuries, father and son embraced each other. A single tear flowed down the cheek of the Elvenking.
"Ionneg, I must ask one more thing. I fear to reveal to Nenni what I have told you here. I must be careful, as I do not know if her spirit can bear the weight of this knowledge. Yet I also fear to keep this knowledge from her. Perhaps there are things you may do to teach her our ways, or lighten her heart. It was made clear to me that she has suffered much. I have asked her to dine with me here, tomorrow evening. If you would join us for a brief time, I should like to introduce you to her."
"As you wish, Ada. And Ada...it does my heart good to see this befall you, though your path is not clear." Thranduil inclined his head toward his son. Legolas took his leave, determined to make a very long patrol of their lands alone. He could think best, when he ran the paths of their forest.
