Naked Hill. November 25, SA 721
THRANDUIL bolted upright on his bed.
"Mother?" His trembling voice cut through the gray darkness around him.
Clutching the silk covers over his body, Thranduil turned his head this way and that until he espied the stars strewn above the treetops.
The tightness in the muscles receded as Thranduil steadied his breath and the frantic beat of his heart.
It was a dream and nothing more. Thranduil let out a breath.
It was the first dream of Sirion in this place his father made home. The blond Sinda raked his hand over his head and rested it there. The anger and the agony were receding. Only the dull ache in his heart remained to remind him of that bloody day.
He had hoped those memories would remain by the seas when he left Lindon, but that was not to be.
He walked over to the open wall and craned his head toward the east. The dawn was breaking, a streak of red in the eastern sky. Below his feet, the forest was silent and dark. A blast of chill wind swept up and tousled his hair, its icy claws raking his naked chest. The winter was coming.
An owl that had roosted on a branch just above his chamber growled a hoot.
"You bother me more than I bother you, so be off," Thranduil growled.
"Whoo? Whoo?"
"You know I am talking to you. The creaking and the hooting every night. You kept me up more nights than one. Go find another place to roost." Even as he said so, he knew he was being overly sensitive. After all, the owl had been there long before he arrived at the Naked Hill.
Elrond's gray dove, dozing on a jutting branch inside his bed-chamber, fluttered its wings, startled.
"Shhhh," cooed Thranduil, trying to calm it. He looked up at the woven ceiling and found a pair of enormous round eyes peering through the gap between the woven branches.
They called the owls silent hunters, and it was true. If it wasn't for the uneasy dove, he would not have known the owl had settled atop his roof.
The owl pecked at the woven branches, frightening the dove further.
"Trying to threaten me?"
The gigantic owl beat the roof of his chamber with its wings before it rose in the air.
"Ugh, don't do that!" But before he could finish, the owl hooted twice before taking off.
Thranduil grimaced as he saw the grayish white matter the owl sprayed onto the ceiling drip over the branches. The spell that sealed the ceilings would not allow any foreign materials to drip into the chamber but knowing that the owl had defecated there made him scowl.
"I am going to clip your claws, you crazy bird!" Thranduil grabbed the sword from its stand next to his bed.
The bird passed the open wall of Thranduil's chamber, then glided around for another pass, chuckling in a way only an owl could before it flew away.
"I may not have wings, but I know where you live, you lump of feathers." Thranduil hissed after it.
"It's all right, Misë." Thranduil held the trembling dove and comforted it. "Do not worry about Sindë. That owl is arrogant, but he is not stupid. It will not harm you or your mate."
Thranduil did not worry about Sindë who was far from Greenwood on his way to Elrond. It was over a month since Thranduil sent the bird. He wasn't sure how long it would take the dove to travel to Lindon, but it should be almost there.
Once the dove calmed, Thranduil dressed quickly and looked down at the ground floor. His chamber was built atop a tall beech tree. It was quite a drop if he were to jump. But to get to the ground floor using the steps, it required him to pass Galion's chamber one floor down.
"It's not that far of a drop." Thranduil looked about him to make sure there was no one about him. He didn't want to look stupid in front of these Wood-elves. And he didn't want to pass Galion's chamber. The youth had ears of a bat. Thranduil was confident of his stealth, but he could not pass Galion's chamber without alerting the youth who was eager to follow him wherever he went.
Thranduil calculated the location of the next sturdy branch more than one story below him.
If I could slow my fall by stepping off that small branch…
Thranduil gazed at the branch of a neighboring tree that was just off his path.
"Catch me," Thranduil said softly to the tree before he took a breath and jumped.
The branch below him moved into position as he fell straight towards it when something swept past him. The branch snapped back just as Thranduil's feet almost touched it.
The Sinda missed the branch entirely. The ground came at him. He fell hard on his face before he had a chance to rolling to soften the fall.
Groaning, Thranduil sat up rubbing at his nose and the forehead. The thick grass that still grew green here softened the landing, but he was sure his skin would turn blue and black from the force of the contact. As if to confirm, drops of blood fell onto his hand from his nose.
"Hoot! Hoot!" The owl laughed, sitting high on the errant branch.
"Oh, you will be sorry, my friend. Very sorry," Thranduil promised as he held his nose to stop the bleeding.
He picked up a small pebble and weighed it in his hand, but Thranduil had no time to deal with the owl. From above him came a creak of someone opening a chamber door. Thranduil was certain it was Galion.
The blond Sinda got up and ran across the grove of trees, down the narrow steps cut into the rocky sides of the Naked Hill, through the wide-area strewn with rocks, and into the forest.
Ever since Gilmagor ordered him to run around the training grounds back in Lindon, Thranduil fell into the habit of running. Even after the punishments were over and he never hit the bottom five, Thranduil had continued to run around the training grounds early in the morning before anyone was up. Running calmed him. Things that befuddled him seemed clearer when he took the time to think them over as he ran. Elrond was right. Giving oneself time to think before jumping into action made for better decision-making, not that he will ever admit it to his friend.
With most of the undergrown dried up or cleared, the forest was easier to run through now. As he passed a large oak with many branches, he felt, rather than saw, many feet drop to the ground. And those feet chased after him.
Not long after, the sound of feet increased in number. Thranduil picked up speed. He did not turn to look.
He slid under a downed tree trunk, jumped over a clump of thorn bushes, ran up a fallen tree to grab a next tree branch to swing himself over, but the sound of those chasing after him did not stop. Worse, they were catching up to him.
Thranduil made a sudden turn, changing direction to where he knew the land sloped downward at a sharp angle. The ground fell sharply and formed a cliff. Thranduil ran until he heard the sound of water flowing over a rocky base.
A stream cut through the forest and fell into a deep pool of water where many Silvans would gather to wash and frolic during warm weather. But winter was coming, and the place was silent.
Thranduil stopped at the top of the cliff where a large tree stood perilously close to the edge of a cliff. Its thick roots, like coiled snakes, wound around a chunk of rocks protruding along the side of the cliff where the stream fell into the pool below.
Thranduil turned for a quick look to make sure they were still following. When they were close and almost upon him, Thranduil jumped.
As he fell, he hooked his hand over the thick tree root and hung on as those who were running after him jumped over the cliff one after another. There were seven in all.
They howled as they fell into the chill water, laughing noisily as only they could.
Thranduil swung himself up onto the clifftop and looked down as the seven Silvans looked up.
Before they could say anything, Thranduil stepped away.
"Wait! Wait!" They shouted.
Thranduil ignored their pleas and ran up the adjacent hill, the east most hill of the several hills grouped around the Naked Hill. He was to meet his father at the top of the tallest oak tree there. Thranduil thought he was too early, but his father was waiting for him.
His father's face was serene as always, but his voice was a pitch lower than usual.
"What happened to your face? Did you fall from a tree?"
Thranduil rubbed at his face.
"Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from the Silvans instead of snubbing them. Was that necessary?" His father met Thranduil's eyes before turning to the eastern sky as the sun rose reddish-gold.
Thranduil shrugged. "I didn't ask them to follow me."
"They want to get to know you."
Thranduil bit down the first response that rose to his lips, knowing his father would not approve. "I prefer to run alone."
"Silvans are wary of strangers, but they opened their home to us. And their hearts."
"I thought you wanted to be left alone as well."
His father watched the sky as the rising sun burnished the brown leaves of the oak tree into burning gold.
"When I left Lindon, the world was gray and colorless. I just wanted a little grove of trees, somewhere away from everyone and everything. I had no desire except to find some sunny spot where you and I could live in peace."
"Has anything changed?"
His father smiled, brightening the serene lines of his fair features.
"You."
Thranduil tilted his head.
"I didn't want you to inherit the grayness of winter from me, not when I saw how colorful, how joyful the flowers these Silvans brought into my quiet garden."
"They are a colorful bunch, I agree. But they lack the grace or the fragrance. They are rather… common."
"Hmmm." Oropher nodded. "They are indeed common, like the dandelions and the bluebells. They don't have the delicate beauty of the niphredils nor the enticing fragrance of the lissuins Finrod raved about, nor the grace of the elanors, the golden sun-stars. But they have a radiance to them, different, perhaps, but no less beautiful. And they have something the Noldor lack: unbridled joy for life as nature intended."
"They are merely primitive, wild, and unruly." Thranduil grimaced, remembering the wild dance of the Silvans.
When Thranduil came to the Naked Hills, his father had hosted a feast, open to all who wanted to join in the celebration. It was held in a wide-open grove just below the hill. Almost all the Sindar were in attendance and some of the neighboring Silvans. That the Silvans were noisy at the feast, Thranduil had known. The Green Elves, as reclusive as they are, could be loud and animated once they accept you into their circle. But the Silvans were beyond that.
Once the feast started and the wine flowed, the slow rhythmic harps changed to a faster tempo, and along with it, the dance became wilder. Everyone was on their feet, jumping, shaking, and clapping. Thranduil had never seen the like. Noldor were refined and his people were elegant. There was none of that in the merrymaking of the Wood-elves.
"Did you see how wild they were? And you don't mind?"
"When have you become a prude? What is wrong with a spirited dance, or the unbridled laughter? I used to think I needed to have silence and seclusion to find peace. But I was wrong. Peace is not something you find. It is something that finds you when you free your heart of the chains that you bear. It is like rekindling the dying embers of your light. We all have the seeds of light within us, but it is up to us to keep it fed and let it burn brightly."
Thranduil sucked in a quick breath.
"You knew?"
His father let out a sigh. "I knew winter had come upon you again and the bitter cold had smoldered your fire. I had not been there for you…" His father avoided his eyes and looked up into the sky again. "I knew the embers were there, but I knew not how to help you rekindle them. All I could do was to take you away from the Noldor and the pain of the memory. I knew there was strength in you. Perhaps, I hoped that the wide-open world would aid you in finding that strength."
As his father turned away to look up at the sky, Thranduil saw his father's eyes glisten. The rising sun gleamed over the watery surface before his father blinked them away. Soft ache brushed Thranduil's heart.
"I did find it. You had been right, father. Roots that weather frost get stronger. Each Orc and troll I fought, the capture and the torture, even the bitter losses I endured, all of them helped me find the strength inside."
His father nodded, and they sat listening to the trees sing the greetings to the warmth-giving sun.
Thranduil broke the serene silence between them to chuckle, remembering Elrond's words.
His father's eyes questioned.
"Elrond used to say that no knowledge is wasted. I suppose he is right."
"You have grown fond of him."
"He is Elwing's son."
"And the son of Earendil."
"Earendil was a Noldo in a name only. He was mostly Man and less than a quarter Noldo."
"According to them, a drop of Noldorin blood makes any of them better than us."
"Noldor are not all bad, father. Some are, indeed, wise."
"So now you favor them?"
"Of course not! I am just saying that some are decent and honorable."
"Decent and honorable people do not kill their own kindred."
"Gil-galad's people are not the Feanorians."
Thranduil got up from where he sat next to his father and moved over to the next tree branch and sat across his father. Oropher remained silent for a long time. The air at the treetop turned sticky. Thranduil pulled at his neckline, wondering what his father was thinking.
"When Angrod first came to Menegroth," after a long pause, his father spoke, "I was dazzled."
"I am not dazzled by them. I just…"
His father threw him a glance, and Thranduil bit his tongue.
"They looked so fair, so wondrous and bold. We had not met anyone like them. And they had the same light we saw on our lady, perhaps not as bright nor as clear, but their eyes and persons glowed. We assumed they were wise, and not merely because they claimed so. They had seen the Valar, had learned from them. And many of us thought they were the emissaries of the Valar to aid us. How little we knew them then. Even when Belhael brought us information about how little Noldor thought us." Oropher shook his head. "We should have known then, as my father and Lord Saeledhel warned us how those princes of Noldor cared more for their own needs than those of their people. My father had always warned us that true leaders always concern themselves with the needs of the people first."
Gilmagor said that, too. But Thranduil knew his father would not want to hear that right now.
"My father and the elders were concerned because there was discord among the leaders of the Noldor who seemed more concerned with their own desire to fight Morgoth and to have a realm of their own rather than focusing on developing friendships with us and between themselves, or even on the wellbeing of their people. My cousins and I were taught never to impose our will on the people. But to our young eyes, their ability to lead their people to do whatever they willed seemed admirable. And the way they challenged the Enemy! All we ever did was defend our borders. Only once did we face them. Only when the Enemy attacked us directly. And we have lost much in that battle. But the Noldor challenged Morgoth at his very door! How could we not admire them? We were yet young then and did not realize that no war is good and no peace evil."
"But surely some wars are necessary to protect what is important to us, and some peace is too costly."
"Necessary? Yes. Sometimes, it is necessary. But was it necessary or wise to jump headlong into war upon arriving a new land without a thought to the condition of the people, without first studying the layout of the land or the condition of the Enemy? And they thought our people too primitive to be equals, but not too primitive to be used as their foot soldiers to die in their war."
"But you believed then that if we fought alongside Noldor, we could have defeated the Enemy. That is what Lord Celeborn said, that you believed in the Noldor once."
His father gazed at the rising sun for a long time. The last leaves hanging onto the bare trees groaned in the wind.
"As I said, I was young and ignorant of what Noldor were."
"You and mother are the ones who taught me that I should judge people by their actions. There are Noldor who are blameless in the sins of the Feanorians. Will you judge them regardless?"
"Have they influenced you so much that you are willing to forgive what they have done?" Life left his father's eyes, turning his usually bright blue eyes into slate gray.
"No. But my wrath, I will save for those who are responsible, not for those who are blameless."
His father leaned back. For a moment, Thranduil was afraid. He did not want to fight with his father over Noldor. But his father smiled, and the light came back into his eyes. "You are a better Elf than I am."
Thranduil felt the weight of his father's hand on his shoulder. "You will make a fine leader for our people." His father squeezed the shoulder.
"They have you, father." Thranduil had no interest in leading anyone.
Oropher laughed. "I came to this forest to retire. Besides, it is the will of the people that will decide."
"They followed you."
"The Sindar who came with me are few, but they love you as well as they love me. And many Silvans joined us since. They may favor you. Besides, I am ready to spend my days fishing by the waters and retire my sword."
"Isn't it the job of the king to protect his people? The burden falls now on Lord Amdir."
"Amdir cares only for the people within Lorinand. Even if it was not so, the Wood-elves of Greenwood do not consider him their king. Not only is Amdir aware of it, but he is content with it. You must protect the people here, not just the Sindar with us, but those Silvans who came to us for protection."
"But the Silvans don't need protection, father. Durion said hardly anything happens here. And what happened with those two missing Elves, that was unfortunate, but nothing has happened since."
His father got up from where he was sitting. "You cannot hear snow that falls deep in the woods, but it falls, nonetheless. Silence does not necessarily mean there is no sound, only that there is no one to hear it. I fear it is not the last time we must deal with Men. They have grown in numbers. And the Silvans remain scattered and unaware of the changes in the world. Most men lack the means to oppose us now, but there are forces out there who can arm them. I have seen it. Someone needs to gather the Wood-elves, alert them of the danger, and protect them when they are in need."
"Silvans have their own lords."
"Who are as unprepared as their people."
"But why must it be you or I?"
His father looked away again. "We need not. But if we are called to it, would you not answer?"
"I heard Silvans of the Greenwood have an overlord who they revere."
"Lord Laegir. He is Amdir's father-in-law and the father of the chieftain who rules over the largest Elven settlement in Greenwood."
"Why haven't the Silvans taken him to be their king if they revere him so much?"
"I asked that myself. I have been told that he is waiting for someone greater than himself." His father looked him directly in the eyes. "Someone prophesied by the Mother of the Trees."
"Mother of the Trees? Is this same as the Green Mother?"
"You've heard of her?"
"Galion and Durion mentioned it."
"She is at the Dark Mountains. I would like you to meet her. We are invited to the meeting of the chieftains to take place next summer solstice."
"Why me? Have you met her?"
"I have been to the sacred grove where she is. It looked like a mighty tree. She wanted to meet you."
"She told you? I thought trees don't speak normally to people. Is she an Ent?"
"She didn't speak the way Fangorn does. And no. I don't think she is an Ent. At least, I don't think so, although Fangorn told me he sometimes visits the Dark Mountains to speak with her. As for me, I could not tell what she is as she has shown herself to me only briefly."
"I don't understand. It is a tree. It is not like it can hide itself."
"You will understand when you are there. It is a holy place. It is said that when Ivann first seeded the earth, she took a form of a tree with golden dews falling from its branches. Some say this was the same tree. But many more say that this tree was the first to be born of the Ivann's seeds…." Oropher stopped talking and looked down at the ground. "There goes Galion and the youth who were following you." Oropher moved aside so Thranduil could go down.
Thranduil grimaced. "Must I?"
His father's face turned stern. "Has not Noldor snubbed you as inferior when you were first at Lindon? How did that feel? Is that how you want your kindred to feel? Never forget, Thranduil: these Silvans are part of our people. Sundered they have been and long wandered in the dark, but they are the same people as you and I. If you give the Noldor, the ones who have done us wrong, a chance, to judge them by their actions, what prevents you from giving the same courtesy to these Silvans who have never done us wrong?"
Thoroughly chastised, Thranduil went down the tree to greet Galion and the Wood-elves.
Niphredil (Sindarin, pale point)-white winter flower close to that of a snowdrop. It is said that it first came to bloom in Doriath at the birth of Luthien.
Lissuin (Quenya, sweet) is a fragrant flower from Tol Eressea that Elves brought to Numenor. I am assuming they have the same flowers in Valinor. It is said that its sweet scent can ease hearts of their troubles.
Elanor (Sindarin, sun-star)—golden colored, star-shaped flower somewhat like a large pimpernel. On the same plant, it grew golden sun-colored flowers and silver-star colored flowers. Both elanor and niphredils bloomed in abundance in Lothlorien in the LOTR.
Ivann (Sindarin, Giver of Fruit) is better known by her Quenya name Yavanna. She is also known as Kementari (Q.), Queen of Earth. She is the consort of Aule and revered next only to Varda, the Lady of the Stars, and the queen of the Valar. Ivann has power over all things that grow. She is also known as the elder sister to Vana (spouse to Orome the hunter of the Valar) who influenced all the flora and fauna of Middle-earth.