Chapter 4

No one had seen the Queen's final parting from her brothers, but the journey away from Rivendell was a sombre affair. It did not seem at all as if the household of the King Elessar was travelling to an occasion of joy. The terrain was difficult, although they travelled with all the comforts of a royal cortege. Elireth wondered if the King would have been happier with the simple campfires and open-air beds of his Ranger days. It was now that she realised that she was not the only one who missed the Woods of Ithilien. For King, Queen and maid, it was now the only place where they could truly be themselves.

As they neared the eaves of Eryn Lasgalen, the tension in Elireth's heart grew. She had known all along that they must pass through it, though the King had commanded that they pass quickly and quietly along the forest road without disturbing the greenwood's inhabitants, but memories of Legolas filled her with an overwhelming curiosity mixed with guilt at seeing what he had left behind forever.

They stood now at the edge of the great forest, the greatest in Middle-earth. Elireth looked into the eye of her mistress. There was something she could not explain.

"I am afraid, my Lady," she whispered.

Arwen held out a gloved hand to her own.

"And I, too," she said, enigmatically. "Be wise, my child. Only you can decide what is best."

"What do you -?" began Elireth, but Arwen had ridden on.

Silently, in single file, they passed in among the dark trees. The wood was cleansed but still heavily overshadowed, and torches went before and behind, flickering orange among the trees. Elireth looked about her, taking in each tree. Almost she seemed compelled, drawn towards the depth of forest around her. A wood warbler sang just out of sight, and Elireth turned her horse's head towards the sound. Softly, unaware of herself, she began to sing a song of Mirkwood, one of the many she knew by heart. A sense of enchantment was heavy around her. Dreamlike, in slow motion, she dismounted and led the horse away from the road, deeper into the trees. Just once she turned back and saw Queen Arwen turn her head and look at her with deep burning eyes, knowing eyes. Whatever she knew, Elireth did not. She simply felt she had to go on to where she was sure she could near the sound of singing echoing her own. Yet at the same time she felt she could not go on, felt a mist coming down on her like the mist of sleep…

Elireth opened her eyes. She was in a room without windows, but lit by many torches, suspended from the ceiling by silver chains, giving off a light more like to daylight than firelight. The patterns of many trees were carved into the walls, up intricate beams, which expanded across the ceiling; a ceiling vaulted but not too high or imposing. There was a fragrance like that of the forest in summer and, in the middle of the room, a silver fountain bubbled, stirring up a bowl of delicate waterlilies.

"A marvel, indeed," said a voice. "A mortal dressed in the raiment of the High Elves; a woman of the South who sings with the tongue of Mirkwood. What rare jewel have I brought home to my treasure house, I wonder?"

Elireth's heart gave a sudden, involuntary swell. The sound of the voice, and the appearance of the speaker, were so like those of Legolas that, for a moment, she believed it was he. But a second look told her it was not so. The face of Legolas, though that of the ageless immortals, had a sort of wistful innocence, an openness which spoke the desire to love and be loved. The face of this Elf was utterly inscrutable, the starlight of the eyes cold and harsh. His robe of forest green was long and flowing, his golden hair crowned with late summer flowers. Though she had never seen him before, Elireth knew who it was.

She made a deep curtsy. "Well met under leaf and branch, King Thranduil," she said. "Receive the greetings of the Lords of Gondor. I am the handmaid of Arwen Undómiel. Elireth daughter of Elbrin is my name."

"And why does the handmaid of Arwen Undómiel trespass in my woods?" asked Thranduil with a look that seemed to go right through Elireth.

She opened her mouth to speak but no answer came. She could not remember quite how she came to be there. All she could see in her mind, over and over again, was her charmed embrace with Legolas outside the Druadan Forest. She had no right to the son of the Elvenking. He would know. He would know and condemn her.

"You are friendly with the Wood-Elves of Ithilien?" he said, as if he had read her mind.

"Y-yes," she stammered. Instantly her thoughts went to the pendant about her neck, which now seemed a flaming beacon on her chest. How little she wished to draw attention to it, but to think was to look and to look was to betray.

The Elvenking followed her glance with keen eyes, and then raised an eyebrow at her ever so slightly. Of course. How long had she been in this room? Of course he had seen already.

In response, he held up another pendant, a many-pointed star suspended from a golden chain. At its centre was a jewel like amber in which bright lights shone with pulsating beams.

"I see that my son has not yet treasure to compare with mine," he said in a cold, clear voice. "Do not such makeshift keepsakes disappoint you?"

"Legolas gave from the heart!" said Elireth, staunchly; abandoning caution in the face of what she deemed an insult.

"But not deeply enough," replied Thranduil. "Do not imagine you can conceal your mortal desires from the eyes of the Elves. You have looked upon the race of Thingol and have fallen under its spell. Like many before you, you feel the pain of a love that can never be. Length of life will not lessen that pain."

The Elvenking held the golden pendant aloft.

"Do you know what this is, Elireth daughter of Elbrin?" he asked. "It is the greatest treasure of my house, a treasure few have seen. This is the Star of Melian, the jewel worn by Melian the Maia, mother of the Sindar Elves. It was crafted beyond the Western Seas and its lights will be a compass to draw its bearer back to the Undying Lands. Take it and your pains could be over."

"I am not sure that I understand you," said Elireth in a strained voice.

"The eyries of the Windlords are close," Thranduil continued. "The sons of Elrond depart form the Havens. You could take up eagle's wings and be there tomorrow to set sail with them, preserving your youth and beauty among the ageless until the ship comes bringing your heart's greatest desire."

Elireth was unsure what to think. Was Thranduil tempting her? Surely the ban of the Valar forbade such a journey, but perhaps one bearing the Star of Melian would be accepted. Despite Legolas' repeated attempts to settle her into an ordinary mortal life, she still longed for both to be in a land where the sorrows of Middle-earth were gone, where maybe her love might find expression at last. The dreams were getting worse, and she sometimes feared that the sea-longing had been transferred to her, if that were possible.

"Why should you make this offer?" she said.

"I will not seek the Havens for myself," said Thranduil. "You are the last mortal to look on this kingdom of Eryn Lasgalen, for soon it will become such that no Man will find it, though they pass by close at hand, and I will fade with it. But there is a grace among Elves which may give the passage West to another."

"As the Queen gave it to Frodo," Elireth muttered. "But I do not understand why you should favour me," she said, more clearly. "I have done nothing-" but save your son's life, she thought. But Thranduil could not possibly know that.

The Elvenking placed the pendant in Elireth's hand.

"Take it," he said. "Sleep under my roof tonight and then tell me your decision."