Thranduil was busy. He had the rest of the day and tomorrow to make sure all was ready and there were only a few hours left of today. The bridge was rebuilt, the extra levels and staffing added to the flets along the way as he had ordered, all the troops in the Honour Guard were fit, although one or two were perhaps not at their peak. Supply lines were in order, extra stores stashed along the route…
But not all the reports were good. It had taken the best efforts of three troops to keep the spiders to the south of the road, and the warriors needed constant reinforcement and support just to hold them there… were the arachnids to push through, at the wrong time, it could be disastrous…
Still, there seemed to be no option but to continue. Iaruon was keen and, his oldest son aside, his second son needed help and if Elrond had any advice he could possibly offer, Thranduil was prepared to swallow his pride until it choked him if necessary.
Not that Elrond knew that, of course.
Strictly speaking, if either of their two houses should be offended with the other, it was Imladris with Mirkwood. For when Legolas had returned from his extended stay some decades ago, Elrond's sons should have been invited to return with him. And yet his son had returned alone, unaccompanied by either son of Elrond or by any guard and in poor spirits to say the least. So a formal invitation had not been forthcoming and, indeed, Thranduil had not even contacted Imladris to thank Elrond for his hospitality towards his son. It had seemed… inappropriate, given that Legolas had walked around the palace for months like a ghost of himself.
If it had only been Iaruon's infatuation with Arwen, he could have got out of this awkward situation. But Nestoril's well-meaning message to her healing friend at Imladris had meant that Thranduil felt unable to back out of this awkward political meeting. For his son, though – for any of his sons' wellbeing and happiness, even Iauron's – he would have eventually capitulated.
He looked up as a soft knocking came at his door. Who now? What now?
'It's late. What do you want?'
Legolas entered the room and came to a halt just the other side of his desk.
'Yes, it's late, Adar, but you're still working anyway.'
'We leave for Imladris the morning after next; of course I am still working, there are endless things to attend to…'
'We don't all have to go. I could stay, if you wanted.'
'No. Iauron and I must attend, and Elrond has offered to cast his healing eye over Tharmeduil. If you are left behind, it will look like a slight to you and I do not want anyone thinking you have at all offended or disappointed me…'
'That's kind of you, father.'
'Did you want something, Legolas?' the king prompted.
Legolas dared to sit on the edge of his father's desk.
'I'm making vows with Govon tonight…'
Thranduil looked up and drew breath to speak, although he didn't know if he was on the point of protest or outrage or just general scolding, but Legolas went on before he could release his voice and so discover for himself just what his own feelings were on the matter.
'…and I would like for you to be there, if you could. It will be in the grove of fëa trees in two hours. Nestoril has offered herself as witness. I thought of asking you, father, but Govon pointed out that you might be offended.'
'Now, and why would Govon possibly think that?'
'Well, he said that setting aside the issue of whether or not you like him or approve of us, you could feel we were trying to make you accept us, or make it look to the people that you approve and so be giving them a message that they'd better approve too, or else… and he said none of that was… oh.' Legolas broke off, seeing his father eyeing him with impatience. 'I thought you meant it. Well. You're busy, I can see, so if you can't spare the time, I…'
'Legolas. Ion-nin… You're certain about this?'
'Of course, Adar.'
'But to make so large a commitment in so small a way… would you not wait until we return from our parley with Imladris? We could then mark the occasion properly, as befits your status and show that I do not disapprove…'
'Adar?' Legolas stared at his father. 'You approve of Govon and I?'
Tharnduil held his gaze, but the king's mask receded and it was the father looking out. 'No, my son, I said I did not disapprove. There is a difference in the two perspectives; Govon said something similar this morning while we were sparring. He fights with great determination, Legolas. Shall we, then, defer until our return when we can organise a real celebration?'
'Father, do not think me ungrateful, but it has to be now. Do you not see? Once we return, all would be overshadowed by Iauron's plans, and while that is only right and fitting, it would make my vows to Govon look like an afterthought. And I do not want that, Adar, his fëa does not deserve that. I want to honour him, I want matters settled between us before we ride to meet Imladris.'
'I understand. Have you had time, at least, to find a proper token? For I think there should be something our silversmiths can do…'
Legolas shook his head. 'Govon is Silvan, and I am following his tradition in this, that the token be something handmade. I… I have carved something for him…'
'Do you have it with you?' Thranduil asked, suddenly interested. 'May I see?'
'Yes, of course.'
Legolas reached inside his tunic and pulled forth a small leather pouch, shaking out the contents for Thranduil to examine. The king lifted it carefully.
It was a band, as was tradition for a warrior, and it was carved from a single ring of wood into intricate, strong links. Legolas had made it so that it could be tightened to wear at the wrist, or adjusted to ride above the elbow and so not get in the way. Thranduil marvelled at it.
'I did not realise any of my sons could make such fine work, Legolas. What wood is it?'
'Golden rowan. A bough fell from the tree of which my fëa tree is a scion; it felt like a gift. I have worked on it since I first realised he was the one my fëa needed.'
'It must have taken great courage to acknowledge that, Legolas. I find I am proud of you for that at least. No, I really am, even though I find it… difficult.' Thranduil sighed as he passed the token back to Legolas. 'Do not forget I was born into the First Age, and in those times such pairings were considered something of necessity, when warriors went to war, not something to be freely sought. Especially afterwards, with so many ellith and so few ellyn… But the world has changed, and we cannot always remain unchanging amongst it.' He smiled suddenly. 'Go and get ready for your avowing, ion-nin. Leave me to finish my work.'
'Govon!' Merlinith's voice was shocked. 'You mean to say, all those nights when he stayed here… in the spare bed… in your chamber…'
Ah. So she hadn't realised, then.
'What can I say, 'lin? We have never hidden what we are from you, although we have not forced you to see it either…'
'But… he is a prince!'
'And so? To me he was light in a very dark place, and I am sure I would have died had he not been my constant voice through the pain of the poison! I did not know he was a prince when my fëa found his, while he knew everything I was and still he wanted me.'
'But…'
'I can see this is upsetting, and I am sorry. But I did not tell you in order to distress you; it was only this morning, after I sparred with the king that Legolas sought me and said, we should settle things between us now, and so I need a token for him and I have an hour left to make one! I need your help, 'lin,' Govon shrugged helplessly. 'It is our own tradition, but I never thought I would need to learn how to craft an armband…'
Merlinith shook her head to clear it. The fact was, that she had got used to the prince being around so much she had started to forget he was a royal Sindar. She had seen the friendship between him and her brother and had thought nothing more of it except that maybe the prince might look at her with interested eyes… but the weeks had passed and that thought faded, too. Still, the idea of her little brother and a prince…
She sighed. The fëa wants what it wants, and the fëa always knows, and Govon was looking at her with such appeal and, well, Legolas did have two brothers…
'There is no time to carve anything, except for a very rough band that you could work on later, so unless there is something in the memory trunk you want to re-use…'
'No.' Govon shook his head; the idea of using an old token, even one of great beauty and worth, was wrong. 'All have been used on traditional pairings. It would not be fitting either to the memories of our parents or our foreparents or to the nature of my love. I must him make something. I want to make him something.'
'Well, you can form a braid, can you not?'
'Of course!'
'I remember tales of the old times, when our people lived in fear and danger, and vows were made in haste and need. Warriors always had bowstrings and leather thonging as part of their weapons kit; maids always had their long hair and braid fastenings…'
'Yes! Here is something I can make that is personal and special and recognises the otherness of our connection.'
'So, if you take bowstring and leather stringing and braid them together…'
'And if you were to cut some hair from my head, a few strands from here and there where I don't braid, where it grows more thickly… Merlinith, that would be perfect…'
'Hair? Like the maids would use?'
'And bowstring and leather, like the warriors. It could not be better.'
Merlinith sighed to herself. Perhaps to Govon it could not be better, but it suddenly felt as if she knew more about him, and his friendship with the prince, than she really wanted…
Of course, Legolas was nervous. Terrified, really…
He had dressed, not in his best or his finest, but in the things Govon liked seeing him in most; close-fitting grey leggings, white shirt, the plain grey coat that ended just below his hips. His knives and his bow were slung at his back, because this was Mirkwood, after all, and after dark. One couldn't take too many chances.
The hand-carved armband was burning a hole inside his coat as he waited outside the grove of the fëa trees for Govon to arrive.
A rustle on the path behind him; he turned, but it was Nestoril he saw, her figure pale in her gown and her hair covered with her light blue head-rail. She smiled.
'Govon arrived a few moments ago, my prince,' she told him. 'He's waiting within for you.'
'My thanks, Nestoril. For all your help.'
'Go on. Go!' She gave him a friendly little shove towards the sentinel holly trees and he bowed before passing through.
Govan was waiting in front of a little cluster of trees; a silver birch, a cherry tree, a golden rowan and – a newcomer to the grove, although Govan would not know that, but it made Legolas smile and think of his lover's eyes – a hazel tree. He was wearing a variant of his uniform, a dark grey shirt and leggings, and unless he had chosen to present himself in kilt and battle paint, he could not have looked more perfect.
Govon turned, his smile threatening to burst into a grin, but he tried to compose himself as Legolas stood at his side and Nestoril took her place facing them.
Soft sounds behind them as others entered the grove and took places; Legolas expected his brothers, hoped for his father, but he could not look behind once the witness had taken up position as Nestoril now had; all his attention was on her and on Govon, now, until this was done. But there were more sounds than he expected, and they went on for longer.
'Friends,' Nestoril began softly once the grove had fallen still. 'Govon, Legolas, you are here to make vows of promise, each to the other, and I am your witness. Speak, Legolas! Govon, speak!'
The vows were simple, much the same as vows of this nature everywhere, promises of fidelity and trust and love and support, and when they had done, Nestoril bowed her head.
'It is with honour that I witness these vows beneath the bright stars. And what token of these promises made have you for each other, symbols of the ties between you?'
Her hands closed over the items handed her, and she smiled as she saw what they were; one carved from an unending circle of wood which she fastened about Govon's wrist, a fine braid of plaited hair, bowstring and leather woven into an intricate pattern which she tied around the wrist of Legolas.
'Your vows are witnessed, your commitments made. Body to body, heart to heart, fëa to fëa. Today, tomorrow, forever, live in joy and light.'
At the last word, she uncovered a lamp that had hung from one of the trees, and the grove filled with brightness as Legolas and Govon turned and saw more lamps uncovered around; Merlinith's face lit and happy, Iauron and Tharmeduil, Arveldir the advisor… Legolas grasped Govon's hand as more and more lamps shine out… Bregon, and others – Govon's lieutenants Hador and Tegolon… it seemed like all the honour guard was there, and Legolas shook his head in astonishment as towards the back of the grove one last lamp was uncovered and held high and King Thranduil, in his robes of state and silver springtime crown walked up to his son and embraced him before stepping back to grasp Govon on the shoulder and with a swift smile turn on his heel and stalk off before anyone could notice the tears leaking traitorously down his face from behind his regal mask of impassivity.
Translations:
Ellith - elves (f)
Ellyn – elves (m)
