A/N: Happy New Year! I am finding it difficult to find the time to post consistently at the moment. Please bear with me, and thanks for reading.
Amon-thon. June 15, SA 722
OROPHER scanned the wide grove of pine trees full of people. The chorus of heavenly music praising Elbereth paid homage to their beloved Lady of the Stars. The sound of the ethereal music never failed to stir his heart. Whatever premonition Amdir may have had, it was a pity that his cousin preferred to call his realm Lorinand instead of Lindorinand, the Valley of the Land of the Singers, the many Silvans on this side of the river still called the land.
To this day, Oropher wondered what Amdir saw when they first looked upon the valley of Lorinand. It was during the last days of autumn, and the land was full of beeches and birches that blazed gold under the bright afternoon sun. Amdir, who rarely gushed about anything, had cried out, upon beholding the sight of the valley in its golden splendor, that until the day the shadow falls, the valley would blaze golden. It had seemed an unusual thing for Amdir to say. It seemed strange, yet prophetic. If there was a shadow and it had fallen, shouldn't the valley shine brighter? His cousin never could explain later why he said what he said, but the name somehow stuck. It was unfortunate as these people sang more beautifully than Lord Cirdan's people.
As the song of praise died down and the music picked up the tempo, Oropher found the one he sought. His heart filled with joy upon seeing his greatest treasure. Thranduil stood under a shadow of a tree, partially hidden from the revelers by one of the tall fir trees that were abundant here. It was only a glimpse, but Oropher could not miss the glimmer of the golden head. He stepped next to his son.
Thranduil had been silent through the meeting of the lords, and Oropher was curious what his son's thoughts were.
"Looking for anyone particular?" Oropher had seen Aron and Durion looking for Thranduil which meant his son had been avoiding them.
Thranduil shook his head.
"Then, avoiding?"
Thranduil grinned sheepishly with a shrug.
"What did you think of Lord Laegir and the other lords of the Silvans?"
"They are people like any other."
"And Lord Laegir?"
Thranduil turned to him. "He looks really old. I mean, really old. Older than even Lord Cirdan. I didn't think there were ones that old anymore."
Oropher laughed. "He is one of the fatherless, older even than Lord Cirdan."
"I thought fatherless ones were just a legend."
"You still remember Cuivienyarna?"
"How could I not? That story is how mother taught me to count."
Oropher laughed. "And how your grandmother taught me to count as well. At least, it is one story all of us seem to share."
It was the only story in Oropher's memory where the details remained the same from his people to that of his wife.
"I know what you mean. I have seen the Noldor tell the same tale to their children when they teach counting as well."
"Have you known many Noldorin children?"
"A few." Thranduil stopped, then continued as if he needed to explain. "Some cadets in the program had children."
Without hearing more, Oropher knew Thranduil was close enough with some of them to be invited into their homes, to be introduced to their children.
"Five centuries could befriend you to the Noldor, then it shouldn't be a problem becoming friends with the Silvans. You will have time enough in your hands."
Thranduil flushed, then looked at the revelers.
"Father, did you really want the Silvans to take up arms?" Thranduil asked. "I thought you wanted peace, but at the meeting, you talked of arming the Silvans."
"Remember the last time we talked? You said sometimes war is necessary. To protect the peace. You are right, son. Sometimes we must be willing to go to war to keep the peace because strength can be a deterrent. Our enemies will think twice before attacking us when they think we are prepared."
"But preparations such as that require funds, something these Silvans, or we, do not have. And where will we get the materials from? Doriath bartered for the arms and the armor with the Dwarves during the First Age, then later with the Noldor. But we no longer trade with either of them."
"I had a long discussion with Lord Cirdan before I left Lindon on that matter." Oropher watched as the grove filled with dancers. "I have left several craftsmen at Lindon, few of them smiths. They were to learn the art under the Noldor. Istuion brought them with him the last time he was at the Grey Havens."
Thranduil's eyes widened. "I thought you would not learn from the Noldor."
Oropher had not wanted, but Istuion and Lord Cirdan had convinced him otherwise.
"I balked at the idea at first. But smithing was a necessary skill for our people, and it was more preferable than having to trade with the Dwarves. It was one of the things Istuion negotiated with Gil-galad."
And had he not promised his father that he would not allow his emotion to color his decisions? "A leader," his father had said, "does not allow his personal feelings to influence his decisions. You do what is necessary for the betterment of your people. That is what a true leader does." He knew those words were wise, but when emotion blinded him, logic and reason had abandoned him.
"Sometimes our emotions rule our logic and reason, but as a leader, you must not allow it to affect your judgment, Thranduil. A leader does what he must, work with whom he must if it means his people will benefit from it, will keep them safe. I have not been a good example, but you must be better than me."
"How could you ask me to do that which you could not?"
"Because you are a better elf than I am. You endured Noldor for five centuries, something I could not. Besides, as a parent, it is absolutely natural that I expect my child to succeed where I failed. It is my prerogative as a parent, did you not know?" Oropher smiled, laying his hand on Thranduil's shoulder.
I am very proud of you. The words circled his tongue, but his mouth did not do what his heart wanted. Why he could not say them, he did not know. His wife and his own father had made it seem so easy, but here he was, in front of his own child, feeling lost. He looked away, then sought his son's eyes, but Thranduil's eyes were serious.
"But even if we have the smiths to craft the weapons and the arms, where will we get the materials?"
Oropher regretted that the moment had passed, and he had lost the chance to tell his son what was in his heart. He let out a quick sigh. "Celeborn offered to trade with us."
"But he is hardly settled at Eregion."
"Eregion?"
"That is what they are calling the place."
"A Land of Holly? Ah, I think I know where exactly they are settling. Above the Swanfleet? Remember that place, Thranduil?" His son nodded. "It really is across the mountain from Lorinand. So close to the Dwarves."
"Celebrimbor seeks to work with the Dwarves."
"I wonder why that is."
"They want to trade their skills for the mithril, I imagine."
"Is that all they want?"
Oropher met Thranduil's eyes, shadowed under a deep frown.
"Only a conjecture on my part, but being near the two groups of people who had a hand in the destruction of Doriath, do you not think we should take care?"
"Gil-galad would not allow it."
Oropher did not like the certainty in Thranduil's voice. When had this Noldorin king earned the trust of his son?
"Father." Thranduil hesitated at first, but he looked up. "There is something closer at home that we need to worry about." His son looked about him.
"You want to take a walk? There is a waterfall near here. We are less likely to be eavesdropped."
Thranduil nodded, then stepped aside to let Oropher lead.
Oropher wondered what his son wanted to talk about. A threat worse than the Noldor and the Dwarves?
He led his son to the top of the waterfall. The stream of water came from the spring deep within the tallest of the hills that surrounded this mountain-top city. The stream rushed, then fell over a cliff to the canyon below meandering to join the River Celduin.
When the sound of the water roared below them, Oropher turned to his son.
"Remember the group of men you encountered at the southern Greenwood?" His son's eyes were earnest and worried. "They have one of us working with them. I am inclined to think it may be more than just one."
Oropher looked down the waterfall to the canyon. The thought had entered his mind, but he had shaken it off. The men had known too much information about the Silvans, but could any elf work with the Secondborns against his own people? Just the thought of it horrified him.
"What made you think so?"
"I don't think it, father. I know."
Oropher waited.
"I went off on my own." Thranduil flashed his teeth, something his son did as a child when he knew he did something he wasn't supposed to do.
"Yes, I am aware of it."
His son smiled cheekily.
"I encountered men in the forest."
Somehow, Oropher expected that. And Thranduil defended himself and returned unharmed. Still, it scared him, remembering how well-armed those men were.
Oropher swallowed down the first response he felt and asked as calmly as he could muster. "Did you drive them out?"
Patience was a quality he had the least of, but fatherhood forced Oropher to practice it tirelessly. If he could, he would have someone keep a constant eye on Thranduil. Perhaps bring Tatharion out of retirement, but Oropher knew that would not go down well with his son. Oropher had to remind himself again that Thranduil was full grown, and full grown children did not like parents meddling in their affairs.
"In a manner of speaking. But I found that they had someone marking a trail for them. The way our trackers mark their trails."
"Are you certain? This is not a trivial matter."
"One of the men confirmed it to me."
Oropher let out a long breath and looked toward the grove where the light shone among the evening darkness.
"You are not surprised," Thranduil said when Oropher remained quiet.
"I had my suspicions, but I hoped it was not so. But why did you wait until now to tell me? This must have happened a few days ago."
"I had Durion check the forest and there is no one there now. And I didn't want to alert the spy that I know he is here."
"Did you tell this to anyone?"
Thranduil shook his head. "This person was in our camp. He had been watching. Perhaps he is watching us now." Without moving his head, Thranduil scanned the grove of people. "I believe we should be careful who we trust."
"Does Aron and Durion know?"
Thranduil shook his head, and sorrow squeezed Oropher's heart at that. Aron and Durion were the closest among all the Sindar that his son considered friends. It grieved Oropher that trust was still hard for his son even now, centuries after Doriath.
"I trust both Aron and Durion." Oropher kept his voice colorless. "We must be careful to keep this among ourselves." He also softened his voice. He didn't want Thranduil to take his words as a critique, but an assurance. "But Aron and Durion could help you locate the spy or spies faster. And the faster we find them, the better it is for us. Anything else? Or some idea who it may be?"
Thranduil hesitated again, but shook his head. Oropher knew, instinctively, that his son was holding something back. He wanted to ask, but he bit his tongue. His father had told him long ago that in order to gain trust, he must first trust. And he said it was especially true with the loved ones. Sometimes they held things back for a reason and he must trust and allow them to tell it at their own time. He found it was especially true when it came to his sons. But sometimes it was hard to know when to trust and let go and when to push on. He only wanted to protect them, but the children didn't always understand that. But then, was he any different?
A deep ache bloomed on his chest, thinking of his father, back in Menegroth. His father and he did not always see things in the same way, especially when dealing with the Noldor. His father had only wanted to protect him, and he knew that now, but it had taken the tragedy of losing his home and the people he loved for him to see.
"If anything else comes up, let me know. Yes?"
Thranduil nodded, and Oropher decided that was enough for now.
Someone was moving out of the grove and looking around the forest. It was Aron and Durion. Oropher knew they were looking for Thranduil. He pushed his son toward the grove. "For now, have fun. Dance. Sing. Mingle. Just remember that we are invited to stargaze with Lord Laegir later in the evening."
When he saw Aron and Durion heading toward them, Oropher left his son who looked less than thrilled.
THRANDUIL took in a quick breath to school his features when his friends approached.
"Was Lord Oropher upset?" Aron asked, his eyes dark with worry. "We didn't tell him anything."
"You know my father. He doesn't need to hear anything to know them."
"Yeah, do we get to do that when we get older? It seems all elders have such ability, and your father more so than others." Durion looked down at the waterfall. "You weren't planning to evade us, were you, Thranduil? I have gathered some ladies who are eagerly waiting to dance with you." Durion grinned, showing his teeth. "You didn't think I would forget, did you?"
"Not at all." Thranduil had resigned himself to it but wanted to delay it as much as he could.
"Come on, then." Durion put his hand over Thranduil's shoulder and led him back to the grove, but Aron stopped them before they entered the grove.
"I still want to know how you ended up at Amon-thon? And two days later than your appointed return? You said you will tell us later, and this is later."
The look on Aron's face made it clear to Thranduil that his friend would not let him go easily this time.
"As much as I want to tell you, I can't because I do not know." Even now, Thranduil did not understand how he made it out of that foggy forest. One minute he was in the forest, then he was not.
"And that makes so much sense." Durion crossed his arms, reflecting Aron's pose.
"I was captured—"
"What?"
Aron and Durion spoke at the same time, both frowning and about to punch someone. This was exactly the reason Thranduil did not want to tell them.
Aron grabbed Thranduil's one arm, and Durion another, and they walked back to the top of the waterfall, the exact spot Thranduil had talked with his father.
"What the hell happened?" Aron spoke first. "So that tear on your tunic was not from a bramble, was it?"
"No. There were men in the forest." Thranduil wondered if he should mention that irritating ellethhe had met, but realized she was irrelevant. "They led me toward the river at the far end of this mountain."
"How did you get so far? Were there many? And where are they now?" Durion was serious now, his face hard and difficult to read. "You should have told me right away instead of telling us several days later. Was that why you had me dispatch warriors to scan the forest?"
"I needed to confirm that they were gone even though I knew they were eager to be gone and one of them was injured."
"Does your father know?"
"I told him about them just now, but not the fact that I was captured." Or the fact that the men targeted him. Thranduil knew telling his father or even his two friends meant the little freedom of movement he had would be taken away, and he did not want that.
"I can't believe they were here so close to the mountains. The fir forest here is difficult to navigate for anyone who is not familiar with this place. We even got lost here when we first arrived," Durion said.
"This must remain between us," Thranduil lowered his voice. "Mind your expression. We may be watched."
Thranduil watched Aron and Durion both erase emotion from their faces.
"There was someone leading the Men into the forest. One of our own."
"If you were anyone else, I would have called you a liar," Durion said, his face grim.
"Is this even possible?" Aron shook his head.
"It's possible," Durion said. "Among the Silvans, there are some who do not want us here. But I would be hard pressed to believe that they would risk the life of any of their own by letting men enter this forest, and so close to their main city."
"I don't believe it. I won't believe it. One of our own people? Out of the question. Even if Silvans are wary of us, I don't think they would work with men against us."
"Well, it does not matter whether you believe it or not. It happened. Someone marked the trail using the leaves the way our trackers do. And who is to say it is a Silvan. Our trackers are mostly Green Elves. They use the same method."
"Can't be one of our own." Durion raised his chin. "I know all of them personally. Knew them as youngsters and our teachers. None of them would betray us. None."
Durion and Aron's faces were grim as they asked for details. Thranduil gave them as much as he gave his father.
"How did you get away?" Aron asked.
"Barely. I jumped into a canyon and it led me to the Secret Grove—"
"Secret Grove?" Durion frowned. "Can't be. It is not an easy place to enter, I was told."
"I thought one had to be invited or something of that sort?"
"I can't explain it as I do not know it myself. It was a foggy place with sprites. It reminded me of the Western Garden at Menegroth. Something is there, something very powerful."
"The Green Mother! Did you meet her?" Aron's eyes glinted under the starlight.
"No. Everything was too foggy. I could barely see anything except the grassy path which I followed and then I was there when you came upon me."
"That's a disappointment."
"What do you mean?"
"I thought you…the prophesy…. Your father…. Never mind." Durion looked away. "I am going to see about sweeping the forest one more time."
"What was that?" Thranduil watched Durion's quick steps as he disappeared among the trees adorned with small lanterns.
"No idea." Aron ushered Thranduil back to the grove. "I thought he was going to make sure you danced with the maidens. He was so looking forward to it. Perhaps his need to fulfill duty took over his need for mischief?"
"Praise the Lady of the Stars!"
"Not so fast, Thranduil. Do not think I plan to let you off so easily. A promise is a promise."
"Aron, not you, too." Thranduil stopped among the line of trees and scanned the grove full of people dancing, drinking, and laughing. He had no desire to mingle with them.
"We cannot do anything about what already happened. And I am sure Durion will make sure it does not happen. So, for you, for tonight, nothing remains except for you to dance."
All along the other edges of the grove, several long tables stood, laid full of fruits, nuts, meats and baked goods. On each side of a table were barrels of wine, piled into several stations.
"Must I? When more serious things are at hand?"
"You gave your word, Thranduil. Am I to believe that your words are to be taken lightly?"
Thranduil groaned when his eyes fell on two familiar figures, one in a pale yellow dress.
"Of course not. And I found someone I will dance with tonight."
Thranduil took off, not wanting Aron to stop him. The one in the yellow dress stood next to a food table holding a plate of food. She was talking animatedly with her companion and looked up just as Thranduil entered the grove to pass through the area full of people. Her eyes widened, then without a word, she grabbed her companion, and they bolted.
Thranduil pushed away a dancing couple in front of him to get through the crowd, keeping his eyes on the yellow dress. But by the time he was at the table, she was gone. Sinda surveyed the area and as just as he was about to turn, he saw a slip of pale yellow dress disappear under a table heavily laden with various fruits over fine clothes spun in a silvery thread. It was the furthest from the center grove and had no one about it.
Cracking a smile, he went over to the table, his eyes on the slip of the dress as it began to slide quietly under. He pressed his boot on the fabric before it disappeared entirely. He felt a slight tug under his foot, but it stopped when he did not lift his foot.
Everything was silent. He picked up a handful of blueberries and threw them into his mouth.
"Nice blueberries. Sweet and tangy. So tiny, though. Everything in this forest is so small."
Birds twittered overhead, and the laughter of the people dancing rang through, but no sound came from under the table.
"I suppose, little people, little berries."
There was a slight shifting under the table, but no other sound. Thranduil wondered how much he could push.
"Who are you talking to?"
Thranduil turned and faced a figure with white hair and dark skin.
"Lord Istuion? You have gotten darker since I last saw you."
Lord Istuion rubbed his cheek, laughing. "I suppose I have gotten darker since the last time I saw you."
"Only five or six decades ago."
"Arien's rays can darken even the palest among us. To think I was pale as you only a few centuries ago. But I love working under the sun. And the sun maiden's rays make potent wine."
"So it is true that you run your wife's vineyard."
Istuion laughed out loud. "It is true that I farm the grapes. My wife's family and their followers settled at the land east of here, by the River Celduin instead of following the rest of the Elves west. The land is fertile and the moment I saw it, I knew it would be perfect for the vines."
"So the grapes are not from here?"
"No. Her people were making wines from various berries, but not from grapes. The wine I brought are from the seeds Lord Lammaeg—"
"Lord Lammaeg gave you the seeds?" Thranduil could not believe his ears.
Istuion laughed again when Thranduil felt a gentle tug on the dress he was still stepping on. Sinda dug his foot further into the grass.
"He is not as bad as he sometimes seemed. When I was there as your father's emissary a few centuries back, he gifted me the seeds when I complimented the wine he served us. Those seeds took to the land by the river. The wine you taste here is from there. I call them Dorwinion."
"Dorwinion? Like the vineyard in southern Beleriand where King Thingol's wine came from?"
"I thought it was suitable as Silvans used to call the land Gwindor. Their meaning is the same, 'young-lands.' I thought it was appropriate. Now, I think the name stuck." Istuion laughed again. "You must come visit us there. It is a warm place with green hills over the clear waters. By the way, you are coming to Lord Laegir's stargazing?"
"Yes. I don't think I had a choice to say no. What exactly is it? Why are we gathering at his place to gaze at the stars?"
"You will enjoy it. Lord Laegir's tree is the tallest in this forest and makes for the best stargazing. Besides, he makes the best braised root vegetables I have ever tasted. And his wife bakes the most scrumptious berry pies and loaves of bread in the entire forest. My granddaughter is learning from her at the moment. By the way, have you seen a young woman this high?" Istuion gestured with his hand. "She has white hair among the thick black tresses. I thought I saw her move toward this table, but there were dancers in front of me."
"Your granddaughter?"
"Well, don't let her hear you say so. I am afraid, she would deny that any part of her is Sindarin."
"Shouldn't she feel privileged?"
"Don't say that among the youth of the forest. Many of them still follow Galenhir."
"Galenhir?"
"Lord Laegir's eldest son and the true chief of Amon-thon. He disagreed with his father, and left rather than to see us move into Greenwood."
Istuion's face darkened, his already tanned skin taking a deeper hue. He let out a sigh. "It is a complicated matter. We'll talk more later. Tonight is time for revelry."
"Your granddaughter, is she wearing a pale yellow dress?"
"Yes. Have you met her?"
"Formerly introduced? No. I saw someone like that by that food table." Thranduil pointed to the first table he saw the young woman.
"I will see you at Lord Laegir's, then?" Istuion turned toward the table Thranduil pointed.
"What is your granddaughter's name? If I see her, I'll direct her to you."
"Tinuiel. She is a wee lass. A lovely little thing." The elder lord's eyes mellowed into the softest silver. "I shall introduce her to you tonight. Think of her like a little sister, Thranduil. I would like to think of you two like siblings as I was with your father."
Thranduil bowed to the elder lord as he went away to look for his granddaughter.
He supposed that the affection of a grandparent can blind even the sharpest eyes. But then, Lord Istuion was always a bit soft.
"Tinuiel. Little Spark? How appropriate. Are you going to come out, little sister, or should I call your grandfather over here to tell him how we met?"
"I am not your sister, and don't call me little." The young maiden crawled out from under the table, pushing away Thranduil's foot.
"All right then, tiny?"
The girl glared up at him.
"Minuscule? Small? No? How about Dwarf-sized?"
"Ugh! Just go away. I don't know you and you don't know me. Remember?"
"That was then. But I know your name, and Lord Istuion's granddaughter." Thranduil let out a low whistle. "And Lord Istuion is Sindarin as they come."
"He is just my mother's father. Lord Laegir's my grandfather."
"Denying your mother's father would not make you more Silvan, you know. Sindarin blood is in you whether you like it or not."
"Whatever. Just go away."
"Normally I would be happy to oblige, but tonight, I need a dance partner and you will have to do."
"Ha! And why should I dance with you? I don't want to dance with you. I don't want to know you or be near you or have anything to do with you."
"Should I call Lord Istuion over and tell him about how you abduct—"
"Stop." She frowned mightily. "You said you would not mention it. We agreed we don't know each other."
"You mean you agreed. I agreed to no such thing."
The girl's mouth hung down as her face twisted, turning a shade of green.
"Close that mouth. It is very unbecoming a lady from the house of Lord Istuion's stature." Thranduil bit down the mirth.
"You are a liar. No wonder you lied about meeting or seeing me."
"There was no lie in my words, little lady. I admitted only to not meeting you formerly, and I did see you by that table."
"Oh, you like to play with words, don't you?"
"Better than crawling under tables. Something I did not expect from you."
"Anything to get away from the likes of you."
"Whatever you think of me has to wait because I need a dance partner and you'll have to do."
"I won't dance with you." The girl crossed her arms, scrunching her face like a child.
Thranduil raised his hand toward the other table, "Lord Istuion, here's the napper, your…."
"Okay. All right." The elleth stomped her foot. "But just for tonight. And you must give me your word that you will never bring that incident at the forest ever again to anyone."
"Tonight is all I need. And I give you my word in all the ways you intend it. Satisfied?" He held out his hand.
Tinuiel took in a big breath, then let out a long sigh, her face miserable.
"The world is not going to end tonight for you, you know."
"It feels like it," she said as she laid her hand on his.
Cuivienyarna (Quenya. Legend of the Awakening) is a legend and a fairytale of the Elves as to how they came to be, awoke under the stars at Cuivien. It is said that this legend is preserved in the exact same form for all the Elves and is used by them to teach their young ones how to count.
River Celduin (Sindarin. Running River) is a very long river (more than 600 miles) that flows from the Lonely Mountain through Long Lake past the Dark Mountains into the Sea of Rhune.
Dorwinion (Sindarin. Land of Gwinion—young land) is a fertile land surrounded by River Celduin and north of the Sea of Rhun. It is also known as Land of Wines. King Thranduil's wines are supposed to be from there. They are known to make strong wines. Dorwinion is also mentioned in the First Age as a southern land in Beleriand, and its wine was favored among the Dwarves of Nogrod and the people of Menegroth.
Arien (Quenya. Maiden of the Sun)—Maia under Vala Vana who tended the golden flowers of the Gold Tree, Laurelin, at Valinor. When the tree died leaving one golden fruit, Vala Aule crafted a vessel with Laurelin's fruit which became the Sun. Arien was chosen to steer this sun vessel.