Chapter Seven
Once, the court would have held its autumn feast out in the forest, lights creating patterns on the trees as they danced in the clearings. Now, as Laurina looked down the main hall the columns seemed a poor substitute for trees, candles nothing more than a bad imitation of stars. There were dancers; she watched them from the side-lines, forming neat lines and circles around each other, each step perfect. She did not dance, with a sword she was graceful but she had never leaned the steps. Only Orision had coaxed her out, the eldest prince had as much a head for it as she did. Together they had circled off to one side until Yarna and Hestlean came over with their eternal laughter, dragging them apart so that Laurina found herself dancing a backwards quickstep with the tiny brunette elleth whilst the court laughed at the two brothers both trying to lead unsuccessfully. That had been in the forest, before the darkness came. When they had been young and smiles came easily and bright without a hesitation for propriety or place. It had been a different world when a Silvan girl could dance with the King's son and a Noldo could smile whilst wearing her Father's mantle.
There was no dark haired elf in a dress decorated with white hands. Laurina watched a single redhead move through the dancers, pretending she was watching someone else.
"Where are the children who fought dragons and balrogs with sticks and quilt cloaks?" She heard a deep voice say behind her. Thranduil's head was close to Soliel's but his voice only a fraction too loud to keep it from keen eared guards mere feet away. It appeared her mood was more universal than she had thought.
"They fight with true swords now, and all the dragons are dead," Soliel replied. The dragon had cost the king a son; whilst he had been dealing with the dwarves Orision had been left to command a patrol with Mithrandir south to Dol Guldur. It had been the wizard who led the company back to the halls, the prince carried on a bier. Dead. No dwarf or Man had known of their grief, it was silent and unshared with others.
"Dragons, perhaps, but not balrogs." Laurina knew it was not her place to understand the king, even if she could. Smaug, the last dragon, was dead, the balrog of Moria vanquished by Mithrandir. Perhaps it was a metaphor, the king had a love for those. She let her brow crease slightly as she tried to puzzle it out.
"Captain." Her lieutenant hastened from the side door, stopping close enough for his words to be private. "You are needed at the gate." Not an attack, the whole court would have been told. A wounded patrol coming in then? Laurina walked sedately to the small door before breaking into a sprint along the guard's passage, built to provide a quick access to the gate.
"What is happening?" she demanded the sentries as she came out into the dark autumn evening.
"A friend is riding through the forest," someone told her. A friend. The code for a Wood elf, one of their own, yet who would be foolish enough to ride through the forest alone at night? The gates opened to let the lone rider in. Laurina recognised the horse immediately.
"Yarna."
"Laurina." Whether it was simply her mind making connections or not, Laurina thought that the flourish with which Yarna dismounted, her grey cloak rippling was the image of Saruman. If it was only white.
"You are early, Matlar arrived three days ago."
"I did not have wounded with me." Yarna had left Lona to one of the stable master's grooms who led the horse away, and clasped Laurina's shoulder. "It seems to have been a long time."
"Not even two years."
"Time stretches out when there is a war." Yarna had changed, she wore Lindon armour now, scales of blue and grey metal over her torso and shoulders. Laurina had seen her in armour once before, when they stormed Dol Guldur. Yarna had not emerged with her armour. It would be reasonable to assume she had worn it at Fornost, but Laurina could not held picturing the girl, for they had been only girls when they stormed the dark fortress.
"Will you change before seeing the King?" Yarna fixed her with a cold yellow stare.
"He can wait. I want to see the girls first." Laurina managed to give her a shocked smirk at the casual insubordination in her tone as Yarna swept past her down the hallway. She unfastened her sword belt and gloves as she went.
"Is there a good place to start with my questions?" asked Laurina, striding alongside in an effort to keep up. So much had happened in the space of so short a time.
"I dipped in and out of events. The short version is that there is a current vacancy for dark lord in Middle Earth. One our esteemed brother coveted." Laurina had expected sorrow, grief from the elleth who at one point it had been suggested might marry Hestlean instead of his younger brother. Nothing, just a silently hurried step towards the nursery. It was late, the dancers had started after the feast and the two princesses had long been sent to bed by their aunt.
"The court is in the middle of the autumn festival," Laurina added.
"I will not disturb them then yet." They had reached the nursery, Yarna having removed most of the armour she could whilst walking. "I still need to speak with you." Instead of leaving Laurina hovered by the shut door, not quite a guard. Yarna strode into the small chamber, liberally sprinkled with toys and books. She stepped over the map that had been spread on the floor, tiny models of armies contested its surface.
"Naneth!" A tiny silver storm came running out from the next room, Lilleila attaching herself to Yarna's armoured waist. Xanthi followed her sister. Their voices dropped to a murmur that Laurina made an effort not to overhear.
After a moment Yarna came back to the door, putting her greaves back on but leaving the sword where it was.
"How is Orophin?" asked Yarna.
"His arm was saved, he will not hold a bow again for many years." The Lórien consort was still too weak to leave his chambers, Laurina only knew of his condition from word passed around.
"Acceptable?" She looked Yarna up and down: her scaled armour was clean enough, even if it wasn't straight. She patted down the wayward strands of hair.
"Ask a lady." The hall doors opened and they were through into the crowd of courtiers. The conversation hushed slightly.
"The Princess Greenleaf," the guard at the door announced. Laurina knew she faded into the background as people watched Yarna instead of her. The dancers had stopped, parting to let her through. Yarna bowed in the eastern style, her hand on her heart as she inclined her head. Serwen always curtsied, as had the last Noldo ambassador.
"Princess." The King stood, flanked by Soliel and Feuil. "Welcome home."
"Hannon le, hir nin." Yarna bowed again and her presentation was finished. The music caught on and the dance resumed. Laurina, at her friend's side, caught the rest of the King's address.
"We gave our dues to the heroes of the piece, I assume."
"We did. Our presence was felt enough to be remembered." The King nodded slowly before he half waved her away. He did not ask after Legolas, nor did he praise her on her part in the war. Soliel had his attention again, explaining Dale economics.
For want of somewhere else to go, Laurina stayed by Yarna.
"Feuil." The Prince smiled at her and moved to embrace her. After a second she gave him a lightly reproving scowl. "I thought we agreed to keep Xanthi away from events." Even in a hushed tone she made both the Wood Elves pale. Feuil opened his mouth to no avail.
"We are all pieces, Princess," Soliel's voice added, her conversation with the King must have ended for they had drifted away from the throne. "Even if we do not wish to be."
"Forgive me, brother," Yarna replied, her smile not extended to Soliel. "I will take my quarrel to the puppet-master instead." She stepped towards the King, bowed and Laurina watched her go. Xanthi, she recalled, had barely said two words in public since her parents left. She had been trotted out along with her younger sister occasionally, Laurina had even seen her training with the young guards but she had no political presence. It made no sense, puppet masters and pawns. Feuil looked perplexed as well, Soliel as smug as a dragon.
"Lady Ninphredil," Feuil said suddenly, bowing to the figure who had come up behind Laurina. Of everyone in the hall, it had to be her who chose the moment when the world was too complicated.
"Feuil." Ninphredil had known the princes since they all occupied the nursery that now stood almost empty. "Captain." Laurina managed a stiff incline of her head, fixated by a point on the floor that clearly was not the Sindar Lady. "My partner appears to have vanished and I am in need of another." The invitation hung in the air for a moment too long, Feuil trying to catch Laurina's resolutely downcast eye.
"Then do me the honour," he said at last. For it is an honour above me, Laurina added silently.
