Chapter 35: Starlight, Part 2

An unwelcome voice broke through the storm raging in Túven's mind.

"I heard you are not speaking to your wife."

Túven glanced briefly at the ellon who interrupted his brooding. He had no interest in discussing his spouse with Iauron, but his current state prevented him from staying a response.

"Is that what she told you?"

"She has not said a word," Iauron replied. "It might have escaped your notice, but your court loves to gossip." He studied Túven's sour expression, and after, took a long, slow sip of his wine. "Would you like my advice?"

"No."

Iauron acknowledged Túven's retort with a nod, but chose to ignore it. "You should apologize to her and beg forgiveness for behaving like a petulant child."

Túven cared not for Iauron's advice, and had no desire to remain in his presence any longer. He turned to leave, but Iauron grabbed hold of his arm to stay him. Iauron's action was unexpected. No one in Greenwood would dare lay a hand on the High Counselor – none but the King.

"Unhand me," Túven growled.

Iauron was unmoved by Túven's anger. He did not obey the Lord's command. Indeed, he tightened his grip on Túven's arm and stepped closer. "When you first came to Greenwood, I asked you and Oropher what it was you sought that we should welcome you to settle in our wood. Do you recall what you said to me?"

"There is nothing wrong with my memory."

"Are you sure?" Iauron was not nearly convinced Túven remembered rightly. He sought to remind him. "You told me your only wish was to see your sons smile again. To find a home where they might know peace, laughter, joy..."

Iauron spun Túven roughly to face the field where Thranduil danced with Caladhel. "Look at him."

Túven's gaze was drawn to the couple by Thranduil's laughter, and held, transfixed, by the light in his eyes.

"When was the last time you saw him smile so brightly, or heard his laughter on the air? How long has it been since he was truly happy?"

Túven said nothing and his silence lingered long. It was broken only by Iauron's prompting. "Well?"

"Not for an age."

Iauron freed Túven's arm and stepped away. "And you would despise this elleth who brings such joy to his heart?"

Túven gave barely a thought to his answer. "She is one of them."

Iauron had little patience for Túven's argument. He would have considered it feeble, unworthy of a response – under normal circumstances. Unfortunately, the High Counselor considered it an issue grave, one requiring a strong retort, and Iauron obliged.

"And where would your people be now if we Silvan elves had thought the same of you? Would you have continued east, as you planned? Become thralls of Mordor, perhaps? We had no reason to welcome you Sindar to our forest, no reason to trust you, but we chose to extend our hands. We called you friends and lords. We helped you build your fortress of stone so you would feel at home among us. Do you know why we did this?"

Túven answered with a slow shake of his head.

"Because we awoke on the shores together. We are all children of the stars, no matter how many ages may have passed since our races were sundered."

Iauron's gaze shifted briefly to Caladhel. She was radiant tonight, as bright and joyous as their king. No surprise, really. They shone for one another, their lights made brighter by the radiance of the other.

"This grudge you hold against the Noldor serves no purpose. Those who destroyed your home perished two ages past, or else returned to Valinor at the Valar's pardon. Caladhel bears no responsibility for their crimes."

Iauron was unsure if reason would sway Túven's stubborn mind, but if reason failed, he was hopeful his final words would have some impact. "Think on what I have said. And tread carefully if you wish to retain your position in your nephew's court."

"Is that a threat?" Túven asked.

"An observation. I know you fear being replaced as Thranduil's closest counselor, but that fear is wasted now. You have already been replaced. Tread carefully. Thranduil is your kin, but he has his father's temper. Do not push him, for I can promise you this: he will not choose you over his heart – nor should he."

Having shared what wisdom he could, Iauron moved off to mingle with the other guests, leaving Túven to continue alone in his brooding.

Beleth was bursting with joy when Thranduil took Caladhel's hand and led her from the table to the floor. She watched them dance for some time before her eyes strayed to wander amidst the crowd. She had asked Túven that morning if he would come, but he gave her no answer. She did not ask after the mark on his throat, where some hand had held him fast. She already knew from Caladhel of Thranduil's impending conversation with her husband. It had not gone well – or perhaps it had, depending on one's perspective.

Beleth was not surprised Túven had come to the festival, despite his refusal to inform her and his failure to join them for supper. After four thousand years, words were unnecessary for Beleth to read his mind. She spied him at the edge of the wood with an unlikely companion. He was speaking with Iauron, or, more likely, Iauron was speaking at him. Their conversation was brief and when it ended Túven remained beneath the trees. She followed his gaze to the dancers, to Thranduil. He watched their nephew with a marked intensity. He looked tired to her eyes, even at so great a distance.

Beleth rose from her seat and weaved her way through the crowd to her husband's side. She had no greater hope now than before that he would speak with her, but felt tonight, of all nights, she must try.

"You were missed at the feast."

Túven turned at the sound of Beleth's voice. She stood a mere dozen paces away. A shadow lingered upon her face and in her eyes. He fought the urge to answer. He fought hard, but his anger towards his wife was finally spent.

"I doubt it."

The sound of Túven's voice after so many weeks of silence was heartening and Beleth wanted him to know it. "I missed you," she replied.

A flash of pain lit Túven's eyes. He looked away, back toward the dancers.

Beleth moved closer, step by silent step until she stood at his side. She followed Túven's gaze to Thranduil. They were dancing to a Silvan tune, an ode to the stars. While they watched him, Thranduil swept Caladhel up into his arms and swung her about before setting her on her feet again. They were both of them laughing.

"Do you remember what it was like to be so in love?"

"I remember," said Túven, "but I cannot now recall." He shook his head, unable to wrap his mind around the sight before him or the memory of his encounter with Thranduil the day before. "How did she come to hold such power over him?"

Beleth knew her husband imagined some dark and terrible answer. The truth was far simpler. "She did not flee in horror when she first saw his face. She reached out and sought to comfort him. That is all." Beleth set her hand on Túven's arm, drawing his eyes back to her. "You know he has always feared no elleth could love him once her eyes beheld his true face. He has no need to fear that with her. No fear of losing her trust. No fear she will think him a monster."

Túven pondered her words, his silence broken with a whisper. "I am a monster."

"What?"

"That is what Thranduil said to me that day in his chambers, after he spoke with her. He said he believed himself a monster."

Beleth's gaze returned to Thranduil. She could hear his laughter on the air. "I would not be surprised if she has changed his mind."

"She will be his undoing. Why can he not see it? Why can't you?"

"Perhaps we choose not to fear shadows."

Túven's arm stiffened beneath her hand. She worried he might retreat again and sought to soften her blow as much as she could. "You might be right. The love he holds for her now might well bring him pain some day, enough to break him. But would you have love and peace stripped from him now, just to spare him the possibility of pain later?"

"You know my answer to that question."

So she did. Túven's wish to protect Thranduil from suffering was no great surprise. What Beleth feared to learn was how far Túven's beliefs extended. "I do," Beleth replied. "And so, I cannot help but wonder, do you wish our son had not lived, so we could be spared the pain of his loss now? Do you regret him?"

Beleth's eyes welled with tears at her question and she shut them against Túven's answer. One fell away and then another and more in rapid succession. She felt a familiar hand upon her face. It wiped her tears away. Strong arms came around to embrace her.

"No," said Túven as he stroked his wife's hair. "I do not regret our son."

This news was a weight lifted from Beleth's soul, for she could not bear the thought of Túven naming their son a mistake. "Nor will Thranduil regret her, no matter what ill may come from him loving her."

"I know," said Túven. And he did. He knew it before, from the very moment Thranduil announced her visit. But if any doubts had lingered hidden in his mind, Thranduil's threat would have been enough to dispel them. "He threatened to kill me yesterday."

Beleth was unsurprised by this news. "He is his father's son." She drew back from her husband's embrace and lifted her hand to trace the hand print on his neck. "Thranduil loves you as a father. He respects you, too, enough to restrain his hand. You should count yourself lucky. If you had brought but a moment's harm to Naerwen, Oropher would have sent you straight to Mandos."

Caladhel slipped away when the music paused to find a drink of water. Thranduil followed close on her heels.

"Too much dancing?" he asked as Caladhel sipped from a glass one of the servants offered her.

"There is no such thing," she said. "At least, that is Roewen's opinion."

Thranduil's gaze returned to the field where Roewen and Faentôr were still dancing. "Faentôr's as well, it would seem." He and Roewen had joined them on the dance floor – along with several other wardens and their partners – soon after Thranduil realized they were the only ones dancing. Roewen had made some clever quip about them hogging the crowd's attention. Faentôr claimed it unseemly, and on behalf of the other wardens, offered to draw a little attention away from their king. Thranduil was grateful for their loyal aid, as always.

Caladhel had nearly finished her cup of water before Thranduil thought to ask, "Would you prefer a glass of wine?"

Caladhel shook her head. "I will not fall for that trick a second time."

"Only one glass. I promise."

She politely declined, and after, her gaze wandered the field to its border on the banks of the Ereduin. "Will you walk along the river with me instead?"

"Of course."

Thranduil extended his arm and he led Caladhel across the lawn to the path that wound alongside the river. There were other elves enjoying starlit strolls by the water, but when they spied Thranduil and his lady they slipped away into the wood. The sound of the festivities faded the further they walked, dampened by the trees and the water. Half a mile down the path they came to an elegant footbridge spanning the river.

They climbed the bridge and at the apex Caladhel released her hold on Thranduil in favor of the rail. Her gaze swept along the path, as deep into the woods as her eyes could focus. When she was sure they were indeed alone Caladhel closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. She deflated a little as the tension holding her together throughout the day began to fade.

Thranduil observed her carefully all the while. He had a sense she grew small before his eyes. "Are you tired?"

"No. I... I am simply feeling a little overwhelmed."

Thranduil noted Caladhel's anxiety when they first met the crowd, but any signs of unease had vanished quickly. He had not noticed any hint of distress the remainder of the day.

"You? Overwhelmed? I find that hard to believe."

"I am not accustomed to so much attention," she explained. "Celebrían casts a long shadow and my aunt's could blot out the sun."

"No shadow could hide you from me," said Thranduil.

Caladhel laughed lightly, but she knew he had not meant his words in jest. She peered back at the King, her right hand still clutching the railing for support. He regarded her curiously, cautiously. She had hidden her nervousness well, too well it seemed. Thranduil had not seen it, neither did he know from whence it came. Caladhel was not sure if he would understand. She wanted him to. Needed him to, as well.

"They have always been regarded as... queenly. I paled beside."

"They will never be queens," he countered.

And there it was.

Thranduil made it sound so simple, a truth that none could dispute. It was not so easy a notion for Caladhel to wrap her mind around, but it was also the very thought that sparked her unease.

"I know it."

Thranduil had no need for Caladhel to explain further. He could read well enough her concern, though he had not imagined before now it was one she might harbor. "You are more than worthy of such a title," he said.

"That is your opinion."

"Mine is the only one that matters."

"And what of your people?"

"They adore you," said Thranduil, "as I do."

"Not all of them." There was at least one who dissented and Caladhel thought of him often during the feast, every time her eyes spied his empty chair. "What did you say to Túven?"

"I told him what would happen if he laid a hand on you again."

"You threatened him."

"I gave him fair warning."

"He is your uncle."

"Why do you think he received a warning?" Caladhel shook her head and turned away back to the water, but Thranduil would not allow it. He reached out his hand and turned her chin gently toward him. "Listen to me. Túven is only one ellon. Thousands welcomed you this night – the crowd that overwhelmed you. Think of them."

Caladhel did as he bid, and the memory drew forth a dry laugh. "I am not sure if you mean for me to feel better or worse."

"I mean for you to feel as I do – happy. I think you would, too, if you quieted your mind for a few hours."

"I cannot help for being thoughtful," Caladhel replied.

"Then it falls to me to distract you. I accept it as my solemn charge for the remainder of the night."

"And how will you manage that?"

Thranduil stood silent and thoughtful for a moment, before he replied. "I could always entrance you with my hair."

It was not the answer Caladhel expected and she forced herself not to laugh. Instead she took up a lock of Thranduil's hair and twirled it around her fingers. "It is a lovely shade, but I don't think that will work."

"The stars, then," he said, directing her to the sky overhead. It was clear and bright and glittering.

"They are radiant tonight."

"So they are."

Caladhel's gaze shifted to Thranduil's face. His eyes were on her, not the stars. "You are not even looking."

"And yet I see them," he said and he tugged lightly on a lock of her hair.

"I am a poor substitute for Varda's sky."

"That is not true. I would choose you over the stars."

"I think you have drunk too much wine," Caladhel declared. She believed so as well, for she found the King of Greenwood more merry than usual this night.

"Two glasses," Thranduil replied. "I only ever drink two glasses."

"Why is that?"

"Did Roewen fail to mention the hair braiding incident?"

"What hair braiding incident?"

"Brandil and Aithron had a bit of a misfortune after overindulging in the wine. Suffice it to say, I learned their lesson."

"Did they?"

"They were always a bit slower than I," Thranduil admitted. "Aithron used to call me Saelcund – with a not so deferent air. He thought it funny."

Caladhel thought Aithron sounded much like his sister. She could very well imagine Roewen calling Thranduil Wise Prince, and meaning anything but. "I can see how one might find such an epessë amusing."

"More or less amusing than what you have called me?" Thranduil asked.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Have you no name for me in your secret heart?"

Caladhel avoided answering this question by posing another. "What makes you think you would want to know what I have called you?"

"Likely, I would not," Thranduil conceded. "Would you hear the names I have given you?"

"Names? You have more than one?"

"I have toyed with several."

"I don't think I want to know."

"But a part of you is curious."

Caladhel was, in fact, a bit curious. She had been so since that night in Lórien, but the sober part of Caladhel's mind had always found most after-names absurd. She spoke that final thought aloud. "In truth, I find most epessë absurd."

"Then let us be absurd. What better night for humor than that of a festival?"

He had her there, and she was, after all, a mite curious. "Very well, then. What would you call me?"

Thranduil squared his shoulders and stood to full height as though in preparation of some grave pronouncement. "Rightly, I would call you Caladhel, for you are the light I have sought for so long."

Thranduil played his first hand well, or so Caladhel thought. His words touched her heart, but she refused to give him satisfaction so early in their game. "A safe answer," said Caladhel. "A cheat, really."

A grin formed upon Thranduil's face at her challenge. "Safe, you say? How about this? I would call you Naurhin, too, like your father, for the fire in your eyes when you argue with me."

"Unoriginal," Caladhel declared with a flash of that same fire. "You claimed to have put some thought into my naming."

"So I did. And I would name you Elmírrhîn, for you are as precious to me as any jewel and you are crowned by the light of the stars."

Caladhel struggled hard to maintain her look of displeasure. "That is a silly name," she said, though in truth, she thought it quite lovely.

"You think so? Then what of Ithildinel, for the light of the moon mirrored in the silver strands of your hair?"

Caladhel turned away and set her gaze upon the water to hide her smile and the blush of her cheeks. She clutched the rail with both hands. "Clearly my hair enchants you. Is that all you see of me?"

Thranduil's hands came to rest on the rail as well, one on either side of her as if to embrace. He leaned close and whispered in her ear. "It is not your only feature I admire."

The heat of Thranduil's breath upon her neck sent chills down her spine. She turned around to face him and pushed back against his chest whereby he straightened to allow space between them. He did so of his own accord, for the force of Caladhel's hand was not enough to move him. He retreated, but maintained his hold on the rail at her sides.

"You claimed you had several names picked out for me," said Caladhel. "Two is not several."

"Indeed," Thranduil replied. "So Faervel, too, I would name you, for the strength of your spirit, as unyielding as mine."

"Did you just call me stubborn?" Caladhel asked, though she knew well it was not what he meant. "I think your little game is at an end."

Caladhel ducked beneath Thranduil's arm to escape him, but the King was faster. He caught her about her waist and spun her around, drawing her back to him.

"I am not finished yet. I have not told you my favorite one. The name I would give you, if you were mine."

Something in the tone with which he spoke these words accompanied by the intensity of his gaze told Caladhel this last name meant much to him. So much so that he offered it not, but paused and waited for permission to speak.

"Well?"

Thranduil's right hand rose from Caladhel's waist to caress her cheek. "I would name you Indánna," he said, "for your love would be a gift greater than any treasure. My soul's purpose, from now until forever ends."

Caladhel knew he meant it, every word, heart and soul. She struggled for breath. It caught in her throat all the while her heart halted its rhythm.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

Caladhel heard his question but it took time for her to draw air to speak. "For a name, it is not so terrible."

Thranduil smiled and he leaned close so their foreheads met. His hand cradled the nape of her neck. His voice was soft, a mere whisper. "I would love you forever, if you will let me."

Caladhel felt like she was falling, falling fast. She was sure Thranduil's hands were all that kept her standing. Her breath caught again and a tear fell from her eye. Thranduil wiped it away with his thumb and then he kissed her softly, a gentle brush of his lips against hers before he drew back to rest.

Caladhel's wits remained untethered, even as her breath and heart steadied their pace. She could not quite believe that Thranduil had declared his love for her, despite her having heard his every word. She was lost, unsure, despite the fluttering of her heart, or perhaps, because of it.

Her eyes rose to find Thranduil's, and when they met, a thought occurred to her. "You distracted me," she said.

A smile crept slowly across his face. "So I did."

"Do it again," Caladhel said, for she had no wish to think tonight, no want to debate her heart's delight.

Thranduil kissed her once more before trailing his mouth along her jawline to her ear. "Shall I tell you what other of your features I admire?"

Caladhel shivered at the whisper of his breath on her ear and the fingers that trailed slowly from her waist to her hip. "Yes," she answered.

And Thranduil obliged, succeeding in his promise to distract her for the remainder of the night.

A/N: Saelcund = wise + prince
Caladhel = light + elleth
Naurhin = fire + eyes
Elmírrhîn = star + jewel + crown
Ithildinel = silver-colored substance which mirrors starlight and moonlight + elleth
Faervel = spirit + strong
Indánna = inner thought/meaning/heart + gift