The next day, Chalia and I breakfasted together as promised. Her quarters were as charming as I remembered them to be, terrace garden and all. We dined on forest morels cooked in fresh butter and sage, chicken sausages with fruit, and cinnamon tea.
She told me right away that her decision not to make a decision regarding joining the King's guard was eating away at her.
"You heard what happened a week ago, I'm sure," she said under her breath.
"No," I cried, leaning forward. I had been so absorbed in my own life; coming out, getting settled at court, that I'd managed to shut everything else out. "What has happened?"
Chalia regarded me seriously. "The—attack? You didn't hear?"
A sudden chill walked up my spine. "What do you mean?"
"Two ellith went missing just before the Summer Solstice. Little ones; babies," Chalia added. "Only just walking and talking. It wasn't spoken of much. You know how the royal family likes to preserve a celebration." And she rolled her eyes.
It seemed a little ungenerous to me, but I indicated she should continue.
"They were found recently. Or rather, their bodies were found."
I sprang up, covering my mouth with a pale hand. "What?"
Chalia was nodding sadly, tears standing in her eyes. "It was the spiders, Fil. They were abducted and debased by spiders. They'd been drained of blood. Who knows what happened to their fëa!"
I felt breathless, like I'd been kicked in the chest. "So young?" I demanded. "And this happened before the Summer Solstice, and no one said anything? Why weren't we all informed?"
She shrugged.
"This is a small enclave," I continued. "And we don't allow the young ones very far from their quarters. That means the beasts were very close."
"Too close," she agreed. "The guard does not go out to hunt them any more. I fear they have multiplied. I had a chance at one point, Fil—not only to join the guard, but to work in a leadership capacity. If I did it now, perhaps I could influence others to do the right thing."
I sank slowly back down, pressing her hand with my own. "I would have you preserve your own life, of course," I told her warmly, "But do what you feel you must, my friend, and I will support you."
That afternoon, I took a leisurely walk and then returned to my quarters to dress. It seemed so odd now to have dozens of choices waiting for me in my wardrobe—and each time I opened it, the selection seemed to grow! I could help thinking wistfully of my sister for a moment, wondering if she would be impressed by my new position at court.
Then I banished her from my mind. Later, I told myself. Too much to do just now.
The gold dress Thranduil King had requested was cut much like the others, with the same sweeping neckline and weighty quality that would help it to cling to my curves. The sleeves were a little different, though. Draped, sort of. As were many of the other pieces I was fortunate enough to call my own, this one was studded with tiny beads. I recalled suddenly my King asking 'The gold—please,' in that peculiar way, as though he were choking on something—or trying not to laugh at me! How odd he was.
I donned the dress and arrayed myself with some simple jewelry, then lined my eyes with deep brown paint for a final touch. The elves don't wear much in the way of cosmetics, and when we do, we are careful and sparing. I had heard from others that my eyes were my best feature, and so I tried to exaggerate the look of them when I had the chance.
On the way out of my quarters, my gaze happened to light on that dusty old sheet of music I'd chanced to find in the library—Heart's Path. I took it up and hummed it to myself as I walked the airy corridors. It was beautiful—but so short! In the time it took me to leave my own residence hall, I had committed it to memory.
The Mirkwood was murmuring tonight. The silvery swishes of the breeze seemed to whisper, Ware, beware, be aware, be wary… and I shivered to hear it. What Chalia had told me still chilled the blood in my veins; those elven children stolen from our halls, savaged by spiders and then destroyed. Out in the very wood that sang to me now. It couldn't be borne. Something would have to be done.
Later, Filauria! I insisted to myself, bringing my focus back to the task at hand just as an attendant drew open to doors of the audience chamber.
Alarmed at the already boisterous sounds of conversation, I realized the King and his courtiers were already dining. Was I late?
But Ayduin glided over to me, clasping my hand in warm welcome.
"Good evening, my dear," he said. At the look on my face, he quickly added, "Not to worry—it is to be an early dinner tonight. We'll wait until the last course and then just a song or two should do it. In the meantime, please seat yourself and we'll bring you some repast."
I was relieved, but on my guard. There was a small contingent of musician in one corner, talking as they supped. I hesitantly approached them.
As I drew near, I heard one of the ellith speaking of the upcoming annual visit from the Lorien elves.
Several of them turned to look at me, and I recognized a young elleth I'd met on the evening of the summer solstice celebration. She smiled warmly at me and I felt less silly and alien.
"Filauria?" she asked. "I remember you. You just came out, didn't you?"
I nodded shyly as the others made room for me.
"I'm Anhely," she offered, and I gave her a slight curtsy before sitting. "You've managed to get a wonderful position," the elleth continued. "And right away! Congratulations."
"Thank you," I replied. "I'm still getting accustomed to the way things are done in the inner court. It's very new."
"To be expected," an ellon holding a goblet casually in one hand chimed in. Then he lowered his voice surreptitiously; "Our illustrious monarch has particular tastes."
Some of them laughed, and another elleth shushed him.
I ate very lightly, and drank plenty of water. When the meal was nearly over, I caught Ayduin nodding at me from across the room. I cleared my throat silently and came to my feet in what I hoped was a graceful manner.
During dinner, I'd convinced one of my new acquaintances to let me borrow his lute. He handed it over to me now, and I took it and made my way to the center of the room.
Once those in attendance noticed me striding purposefully forth to prepare, a respectful applause broke out. I forced myself not to glance about in confusion, but acknowledged the gesture with a simple nod of my head.
The part of my mind that wasn't engaged in self-criticism or intellectual preparation wondered if the courtiers had recognized me, or if somehow one of the pieces I'd offered so far at court had been better received than I'd realized. Was it possible—that I had supporters here?
Thranduil had finished his meal and was sipping leisurely at a goblet of something. He raise a languid had in casual greeting at me and I curtsied low, holding the lute by the neck at my side.
Then I brought the instrument up and stroked the strings a few times—quietly. I hadn't thought about this part and hoped that the borrowed lute wouldn't need to be tuned too badly.
I listened with a trained ear.
No, that was all right. I could work with that. Of course the court musicians would exhibit the utmost care when it came to their trade—we were in Mirkwood, after all!
I struck up a chord on the lute and raised my head to sing.