Chapter 6
Finally the shadows began to lengthen and the stifling heat of the summer afternoon gradually cooled, filling the glade that served as the banquet Hall with the warm, sweet scented breath of evening. The soft red glow of the sun's dying rays slowly departed as the darkness of night won the battle for the sky and one by one the glittering silver lights of the stars winked back into existence, twinkling with delight at once more being able to be seen by their children in the world below.
All was in readiness for the Midsummer celebration, Ithilien's first in many centuries.
The lanterns were lit high in the trees above, and, despite the warmth of the night the friendly flames of a small fire danced in the centre of the fireplace. The stone tables in the outdoor Hall were now laden with the food that had been prepared for the banquet. There were platters of various meats, roasted and flavoured with herbs and spices, fresh vegetables cooked in creamy rich sauces, freshly baked bread rolls and many assorted pastries and delicacies for desert. On one of the smaller tables were vats of wine, ale and cider and it was around a table in this part of the glade that it suited Gimli and the other Dwarves to sit. They had already filled their tankards and were singing a merry drinking song, obviously already enjoying themselves immensely.
Aragorn and Arwen were seated the head table speaking to one of the Elves from Eryn Lasgalen who had accompanied Thranduil on his journey to Ithilien. With a smile and a polite nod of the head, he wandered off to join his friends just as Éowyn, Faramir and Imrahil arrived, the two men still seemingly involved in the discussion of history that they had begun earlier that afternoon. Éowyn sat next to Arwen and soon the two women were laughing and making light conversation as they awaited the arrival of Legolas and Thranduil. Éowyn was mesmerised as she watched the Elves move about the glade, laughing and singing, for in the ever-increasing darkness, the pale luminescence of their light made them appear like moonbeams dancing in the forest. "They truly are Fair Folk, as you call them," Éowyn whispered to Faramir, who was seated on her other side, her eyes widening in amazement as Legolas and Thranduil entered the glade, for father and son shone with the same light as their kin.
Despite his request for informality during his stay in Ithilien, Thranduil had nevertheless dressed formally for the important celebration of Midsummer. He wore his usual robes of deep green, embroidered with leaves of gold, and his golden hair flowed free of braids, held in place by his beloved crown of leaves. Legolas, on the other hand, had decided that more informal attire truly reflected the spirit of his settlement and had chosen a pale green overshirt made of a very fine satin that fell midway down his thighs. His shirt was belted at the waist but he had left several buttons undone, allowing a small part of his chest to be exposed to the starlight. His leggings were of similar green velvet to his father's robes and his feet were bare, ready for an evening of dancing on the soft grass. As a small concession to his station as the King's son, his unbraided hair was adorned with a circlet formed from a single chain of fresh leaves.
Thranduil took his place of honour at the head of the table and watched with the others as Legolas walked slowly around the glade for the first time since the work had been completed. He stopped occasionally to compliment his friends for their part in the decorating of their outdoor Hall and he ensured everyone knew how exceedingly pleased he was with the final result of the combined effort of the Dwarves and Elves.
"You and your friends have outdone yourselves, Gimli," Legolas declared his voice filled admiration for the skill of the workmanship, as he finally reached the table where the Dwarf sat. "The carvings are exquisite and exactly as I drew them," he exclaimed as he inspected every piece of their handiwork. "There are no words to thank you for such a wonderful gift!" Legolas added, surprising everyone by kneeling down and giving the Dwarf a friendly hug.
"Yes.well.your reaction is more than enough thanks," stammered Gimli, slightly flustered by Legolas' unexpected display of affection, and also a little self-conscious as he noted the looks of shock and disbelief on the faces of his companions. Not that he could blame them for such a reaction after having been told of Thranduil's threat; the last thing any Dwarf would have expected to see was such a display from the Elvenking's son.
"May I suggest that you continue to admire this excellent setting, after we have eaten?" suggested Gimli, successfully hiding his discomfort from the Elf.
"That is the kind of question I would expect from a Hobbit, not a Dwarf, " teased Legolas with a merry twinkle in his eye. "However, I officially announce that the festivities have commenced!" he proclaimed to everyone after he had taken his place at the main table.
To the delight of all, the musicians had formed into two separate groups, taking turns to enjoy the feast so that the sweet elven music added to the merry atmosphere of the banquet. There was much laughter and light-hearted jesting amongst the elves and almost all of their guests. The occasional dark look that passed between Thranduil and the Dwarves did not go unnoticed, but Imrahil expertly drew the Elf's attention away from them with a well-timed question.
"What do you think of the settlement your son has established here, Thranduil?" he asked refilling the King's goblet as well as his own. "I would think it would not be dissimilar to the beginnings of Oropher's colony in Greenwood."
"Very astute. Yes it reminds me very much of our village in Greenwood. Although our dwellings were mostly on the ground, the conditions were just as rustic, and the lifestyle just as uncomplicated. I am pleased with the achievements of Legolas and his friends, the forest is rapidly regaining its beauty," replied Thranduil, scowling slightly as he saw Legolas, along with Faramir and Aragorn, join the Dwarves at their table.
"It seems old alliances have been renewed, does is it not?" Imrahil asked as his eyes followed Thranduil's gaze.
"Yes," agreed Thranduil, without further comment. "Speaking of alliances, I hear your daughter wed the young King Éomer?" Imrahil nodded eagerly allowing the conversation to turn to a much safer topic, a discussion of his own family.
*******
As the feasting neared an end and most of the tables had been cleared of the little food that remained uneaten, the music became livelier, inviting the dancing to begin. The two ladies of Gondor watched the graceful elegance of the Elves as they danced and Arwen found herself wishing she had worn a gown of lightweight material, for the evening was still warm and some of the dances were quite fast paced. However, for the moment, her dress was not a concern for both she and Éowyn had lost their dance partners to the Dwarves. There seemed to be some kind of dispute occurring between Aragorn and one of Gimli's friends.
"I wonder what that is all about?" Arwen asked as raised voices could be heard drifting across the clearing.
"It seems that our gentle Men have become involved in an argument of some kind," answered Éowyn also turning to look towards the other side of the glade. Thranduil also heard the uproar, and excusing himself from his conversation with Imrahil, he stormed over to the group, his eyes flashing with anger. Had he not warned Gimli that he would tolerate no trouble from his friends?
"What is the meaning of this disturbance?" he shouted as Aragorn and one of the Dwarves glared aggressively at each other. The power and fury in his voice silenced everyone instantly, even stopping the music. There was no answer, which only infuriated the Elvenking more. "Legolas?" It was more of a demand than a simple question.
"Apparently there is some dispute as to whether Men or Dwarves are less prone to becoming drunk," he replied, trying to be as tactful as possible. "Aragorn and Faramir have been challenged to a drinking contest with the Dwarves to decide the matter."
"Trust a Dwarf to suggest such nonsense!" exclaimed Thranduil. "I would think you two," he said to Aragorn and Faramir, "would much prefer to spend the evening dancing with your lovely ladies, than becoming involved with such unseemly behaviour."
"It has become a matter of honour, something you would not understand," responded Aragorn's antagonist scathingly. There was deathly silence as all eyes turned to the Elvenking, who suddenly appeared as the formidable warrior he had once been and spoke with ice-cold fury.
"Had I a weapon, those would have been your last words, Dwarf!" he hissed. The shocked silence was broken when Imrahil walked casually over to the group and placed his hand on Thranduil's shoulder.
"The lovely Queen Arwen has asked me to dance with her, but I fear I am too tired, perhaps you could do her the honour instead?" he suggested, the quiet firmness in his voice somehow reaching Thranduil, who turned to stare at the Prince of Dol Amroth.
""Yes, I fear we have been remiss in our attentions to the ladies. Shall we join them?" Legolas agreed, taking his father's arm, very surprised that the still furious Thranduil allowed himself to be lead away. He signalled silently for the musicians to resume playing and soon all had returned to their merrymaking.
There was a general sigh of relief from the Dwarves as they suddenly realised the true danger they had been in; they had been surrounded by a large group of Elves who had approached silently in support of their King.
"Well, Aragorn, will you accept our wager or not?" asked the Dwarf, his persistence apparently not in the least dampened by Thranduil's anger, nor by any number of outraged Elves. Looking at Faramir who simply shrugged his agreement, Aragorn smiled dangerously. Confident that they would be victorious, he filled both his and the Dwarf's tankards and the competition began.
Finally the shadows began to lengthen and the stifling heat of the summer afternoon gradually cooled, filling the glade that served as the banquet Hall with the warm, sweet scented breath of evening. The soft red glow of the sun's dying rays slowly departed as the darkness of night won the battle for the sky and one by one the glittering silver lights of the stars winked back into existence, twinkling with delight at once more being able to be seen by their children in the world below.
All was in readiness for the Midsummer celebration, Ithilien's first in many centuries.
The lanterns were lit high in the trees above, and, despite the warmth of the night the friendly flames of a small fire danced in the centre of the fireplace. The stone tables in the outdoor Hall were now laden with the food that had been prepared for the banquet. There were platters of various meats, roasted and flavoured with herbs and spices, fresh vegetables cooked in creamy rich sauces, freshly baked bread rolls and many assorted pastries and delicacies for desert. On one of the smaller tables were vats of wine, ale and cider and it was around a table in this part of the glade that it suited Gimli and the other Dwarves to sit. They had already filled their tankards and were singing a merry drinking song, obviously already enjoying themselves immensely.
Aragorn and Arwen were seated the head table speaking to one of the Elves from Eryn Lasgalen who had accompanied Thranduil on his journey to Ithilien. With a smile and a polite nod of the head, he wandered off to join his friends just as Éowyn, Faramir and Imrahil arrived, the two men still seemingly involved in the discussion of history that they had begun earlier that afternoon. Éowyn sat next to Arwen and soon the two women were laughing and making light conversation as they awaited the arrival of Legolas and Thranduil. Éowyn was mesmerised as she watched the Elves move about the glade, laughing and singing, for in the ever-increasing darkness, the pale luminescence of their light made them appear like moonbeams dancing in the forest. "They truly are Fair Folk, as you call them," Éowyn whispered to Faramir, who was seated on her other side, her eyes widening in amazement as Legolas and Thranduil entered the glade, for father and son shone with the same light as their kin.
Despite his request for informality during his stay in Ithilien, Thranduil had nevertheless dressed formally for the important celebration of Midsummer. He wore his usual robes of deep green, embroidered with leaves of gold, and his golden hair flowed free of braids, held in place by his beloved crown of leaves. Legolas, on the other hand, had decided that more informal attire truly reflected the spirit of his settlement and had chosen a pale green overshirt made of a very fine satin that fell midway down his thighs. His shirt was belted at the waist but he had left several buttons undone, allowing a small part of his chest to be exposed to the starlight. His leggings were of similar green velvet to his father's robes and his feet were bare, ready for an evening of dancing on the soft grass. As a small concession to his station as the King's son, his unbraided hair was adorned with a circlet formed from a single chain of fresh leaves.
Thranduil took his place of honour at the head of the table and watched with the others as Legolas walked slowly around the glade for the first time since the work had been completed. He stopped occasionally to compliment his friends for their part in the decorating of their outdoor Hall and he ensured everyone knew how exceedingly pleased he was with the final result of the combined effort of the Dwarves and Elves.
"You and your friends have outdone yourselves, Gimli," Legolas declared his voice filled admiration for the skill of the workmanship, as he finally reached the table where the Dwarf sat. "The carvings are exquisite and exactly as I drew them," he exclaimed as he inspected every piece of their handiwork. "There are no words to thank you for such a wonderful gift!" Legolas added, surprising everyone by kneeling down and giving the Dwarf a friendly hug.
"Yes.well.your reaction is more than enough thanks," stammered Gimli, slightly flustered by Legolas' unexpected display of affection, and also a little self-conscious as he noted the looks of shock and disbelief on the faces of his companions. Not that he could blame them for such a reaction after having been told of Thranduil's threat; the last thing any Dwarf would have expected to see was such a display from the Elvenking's son.
"May I suggest that you continue to admire this excellent setting, after we have eaten?" suggested Gimli, successfully hiding his discomfort from the Elf.
"That is the kind of question I would expect from a Hobbit, not a Dwarf, " teased Legolas with a merry twinkle in his eye. "However, I officially announce that the festivities have commenced!" he proclaimed to everyone after he had taken his place at the main table.
To the delight of all, the musicians had formed into two separate groups, taking turns to enjoy the feast so that the sweet elven music added to the merry atmosphere of the banquet. There was much laughter and light-hearted jesting amongst the elves and almost all of their guests. The occasional dark look that passed between Thranduil and the Dwarves did not go unnoticed, but Imrahil expertly drew the Elf's attention away from them with a well-timed question.
"What do you think of the settlement your son has established here, Thranduil?" he asked refilling the King's goblet as well as his own. "I would think it would not be dissimilar to the beginnings of Oropher's colony in Greenwood."
"Very astute. Yes it reminds me very much of our village in Greenwood. Although our dwellings were mostly on the ground, the conditions were just as rustic, and the lifestyle just as uncomplicated. I am pleased with the achievements of Legolas and his friends, the forest is rapidly regaining its beauty," replied Thranduil, scowling slightly as he saw Legolas, along with Faramir and Aragorn, join the Dwarves at their table.
"It seems old alliances have been renewed, does is it not?" Imrahil asked as his eyes followed Thranduil's gaze.
"Yes," agreed Thranduil, without further comment. "Speaking of alliances, I hear your daughter wed the young King Éomer?" Imrahil nodded eagerly allowing the conversation to turn to a much safer topic, a discussion of his own family.
*******
As the feasting neared an end and most of the tables had been cleared of the little food that remained uneaten, the music became livelier, inviting the dancing to begin. The two ladies of Gondor watched the graceful elegance of the Elves as they danced and Arwen found herself wishing she had worn a gown of lightweight material, for the evening was still warm and some of the dances were quite fast paced. However, for the moment, her dress was not a concern for both she and Éowyn had lost their dance partners to the Dwarves. There seemed to be some kind of dispute occurring between Aragorn and one of Gimli's friends.
"I wonder what that is all about?" Arwen asked as raised voices could be heard drifting across the clearing.
"It seems that our gentle Men have become involved in an argument of some kind," answered Éowyn also turning to look towards the other side of the glade. Thranduil also heard the uproar, and excusing himself from his conversation with Imrahil, he stormed over to the group, his eyes flashing with anger. Had he not warned Gimli that he would tolerate no trouble from his friends?
"What is the meaning of this disturbance?" he shouted as Aragorn and one of the Dwarves glared aggressively at each other. The power and fury in his voice silenced everyone instantly, even stopping the music. There was no answer, which only infuriated the Elvenking more. "Legolas?" It was more of a demand than a simple question.
"Apparently there is some dispute as to whether Men or Dwarves are less prone to becoming drunk," he replied, trying to be as tactful as possible. "Aragorn and Faramir have been challenged to a drinking contest with the Dwarves to decide the matter."
"Trust a Dwarf to suggest such nonsense!" exclaimed Thranduil. "I would think you two," he said to Aragorn and Faramir, "would much prefer to spend the evening dancing with your lovely ladies, than becoming involved with such unseemly behaviour."
"It has become a matter of honour, something you would not understand," responded Aragorn's antagonist scathingly. There was deathly silence as all eyes turned to the Elvenking, who suddenly appeared as the formidable warrior he had once been and spoke with ice-cold fury.
"Had I a weapon, those would have been your last words, Dwarf!" he hissed. The shocked silence was broken when Imrahil walked casually over to the group and placed his hand on Thranduil's shoulder.
"The lovely Queen Arwen has asked me to dance with her, but I fear I am too tired, perhaps you could do her the honour instead?" he suggested, the quiet firmness in his voice somehow reaching Thranduil, who turned to stare at the Prince of Dol Amroth.
""Yes, I fear we have been remiss in our attentions to the ladies. Shall we join them?" Legolas agreed, taking his father's arm, very surprised that the still furious Thranduil allowed himself to be lead away. He signalled silently for the musicians to resume playing and soon all had returned to their merrymaking.
There was a general sigh of relief from the Dwarves as they suddenly realised the true danger they had been in; they had been surrounded by a large group of Elves who had approached silently in support of their King.
"Well, Aragorn, will you accept our wager or not?" asked the Dwarf, his persistence apparently not in the least dampened by Thranduil's anger, nor by any number of outraged Elves. Looking at Faramir who simply shrugged his agreement, Aragorn smiled dangerously. Confident that they would be victorious, he filled both his and the Dwarf's tankards and the competition began.