Chapter Nine: Dropping Eaves
Early the next morning, the Elvenking of Mirkwood and the Lord of the Golden Wood sequestered themselves in the king's study, and did not emerge for many hours. Only the servants were permitted to enter, to keep the lamps lit, stoke the fires and bring platters of tea, bread and fruit.
Cadhríen had found herself a quiet spot in the cosy antechamber off the main hall, in a comfortable chair before the fireplace, and was attempting to occupy her thoughts with a book she had brought with her from Celeborn's library in Lórien: a short volume of Elvish verse, focusing on the First Age. Its pages were dog-eared and its cover a little faded, for she had borrowed it many times in the past, but she found it a suitable distraction; particularly the Lay of Beren and Lúthien, which, privately, was one of her favourites.
Haldir was beside her on a long, oak bench, polishing his bow and repairing the fletchings on his arrows, which had been damaged in the wolf attack and the hunt he had joined the day before.
There was an irritating, nervous energy about the place that morning, she noticed. Servants hurried to and fro, those tasked with tending to the king casting superior glances at anyone who was not, including the palace's guests. The other Lórien Elves had mostly congregated in the parlour, where, Eärfin reported, a few games had started up: chess, cards, and a half-hearted riddle contest that nobody involved seemed to be dedicating their full attention to. A few of the Mirkwood Elves had joined them, he said, but a larger group had gone down the river to oversee some trade with the Men of the Long Lake, and they were not expected to return that day.
Around lunchtime, Haldir tried to stop one of the servants on their way through the antechamber, to ask them how things were faring with the talks.
"I am sorry," came the answer, as the Elf swept imperiously through the room, "it is not my place to say."
Variants on this reply were parroted back at them by two other servants when they ventured to ask, and eventually Cadhríen could stand the sitting and waiting no longer, and told Haldir that she was going to her bedchamber to rest a while and then change for dinner.
The Elvenking's Halls were quiet as she made her way through them to the rear of the high-ceilinged cavern, past the dais with its carven throne, over the walkway of curving stone and into the labyrinth of dark passages that led past the library and the king's chambers.
Just as she passed the library, she heard a disturbance up ahead, around the next bend in the passageway. A door was opening, and low voices were issuing from it. There were hurried footsteps, too, coming up from the other direction; they were quick and light, and belonged to at least two pairs of feet.
She followed the twisting hallway a short way, quiet and tentative, and saw Thranduil and Celeborn on the threshold of what had to be the king's study; behind them, she could see dark, panelled wood, towering shelves and the low, flickering glow of torches.
As she watched, two more Elves appeared out of the passage ahead: a servant… and the king's son, Legolas, his face and hair in shadow but recognisable all the same. She took a quick step back to avoid being seen, and looked on as the prince approached the open door.
"My thanks," Celeborn was saying to the Elvenking, but his voice had a faint, sharp edge to it that she had rarely heard before. "We shall pick up on the morrow, if it suits you?"
"As you wish," came Thranduil's reply, and his expression was unreadable in the orange torchlight. But he noticed Legolas, then, and there was a quick flash of something in his eyes: surprise, or perhaps annoyance.
"I would speak with you, Father," the prince said, his tone almost as hard as Celeborn's, and Thranduil held out an arm to usher his son inside, though he did not look happy about it.
"On the morrow, then," the Elvenking said to Celeborn, lowering his forehead and placing a hand to his chest in farewell; then he disappeared into the dim study, shutting the door behind him with just a touch too much force. Muffled murmurs issued immediately from within.
Cadhríen hesitated a moment, then walked forward. "My Lord."
"Cadhríen." Celeborn did not seem taken aback by her presence; perhaps he had sensed her standing there. He looked weary, but seemed to be making an effort to keep his expression neutral. "I expect dinner is not far off. I should like to address the group – can you gather them in the antechamber and ask the servants to bring some sweet tea?"
"Of course, my Lord," she said, tipping her head in acknowledgement. She wanted to ask how the talks had fared there and then, but knew better than to display such impatience. Turning on her heel, she hurried back the way she had come, her thoughts racing.
She didn't expect there had been any final decision – Celeborn had suggested continuing tomorrow, after all. But what had Legolas been up to? She wondered if he had asked one of the king's servants to alert him when the rulers were about to emerge. I would speak with you, Father. No doubt to find out before anyone else how far the talks had progressed, and continue his attempts to coax the Elvenking to his way of thinking…
Haldir was where she had left him. He had put down his arrows and picked up the book of poetry she'd left open on the bench. He glanced up as she approached, one eyebrow raised. "I never had you pegged for a romantic," he said, gesturing at her with the book. He looked back at the page, cleared his throat and raised his voice. "That in his arms lay glistening…"
"Give that back," she said hurriedly, snatching it off him. She felt the tips of her ears burn. "The talks have finished – for today, anyway. Celeborn wants to see us all. Help me gather everyone."
Her friend still looked amused, but he nodded and took up his bow and quiver.
It did not take long to round up the party. Eärfin, Menedhel, Amrohil and a few others were in the parlour, and the rest were conversing in the halls or passing time in their rooms. Cadhríen managed to detain a passing servant long enough to request some tea – the maiden did not look happy about it, but a short time later she appeared balancing a loaded tray, and proceeded to stoke the fire.
Once they were all present and seated, and Celeborn had arrived, poured himself a drink and taken up a position by the fireplace, he began. He kept his voice low, but thankfully they were left mostly alone, and none of the servants or other palace denizens who passed through the chamber came close enough to hear.
"The Elvenking and I spoke for several hours today," he said. "I won't pretend it has not been a… difficult start to the proceedings. He insisted on a lengthy preamble – updates on the latest goings-on in our respective lands, that sort of thing. He may be stalling for time, or perhaps seeks details on how many of us there are. I expect he is more than a little keen to discover how… useful we can be to him. But in any case, when we eventually got around to discussing Galadriel's proposal, he gave no answer either way."
"At least he has not rejected it outright," said Amrohil. "And, though I am loathe to admit it, that old saying does hold some truth: Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes." He tipped his head to the side. "He may respond to another push."
"Perhaps," Celeborn agreed. "But there was something about his manner that I…" The Lord of the Wood pondered a moment, then shook his head. "He is difficult to read, but something tells me he does not look upon the proposal favourably. He spent a long time detailing his people's recent successes fending off exploratory assaults from Dol Guldur. And he spoke of their ongoing battles against the spiders for what must have been close on half an hour."
Cadhríen saw Haldir give a slight roll of his eyes.
"I listened patiently, for plainly it will do us no favours to offend them." Celeborn looked pointedly at the marchwarden. "But I cannot say things have begun altogether positively." He sighed, steepling his fingers. "No matter. We continue tomorrow, and I must ask all of you to display the utmost graciousness in your dealings with our hosts. A wrong move now could throw everything off."
Haldir looked a little abashed as they all nodded and got up to leave.
When a servant poked their head into the chamber to inform them that dinner would not be long, Cadhríen pulled Amrohil aside before he disappeared to get changed. She told him in an undertone what she had seen pass in the passageway outside the king's study that afternoon, and they shared a dark look before making for the door.
If the Elvenking happened to reject Celeborn's proposal tomorrow, she was certain she would know the reason why.
