68 – Rumors of Joy
"Absolutely not," declared Amthril with a firm shake of her head. "It cannot be countenanced. These lovers of the Sun, these Second-born would as soon raze this forest to the ground as abide by the stipulations we would require."
"The Men would come regardless of our permission," Derion fired back. "They are needy, true, but at least this way, we have the opportunity to intervene on the forest's behalf before any harm is done."
"Men would bring harm to the forest whether we will it or no," Amthril retorted, and some of the other Silvan council members murmured their agreement.
The Elvenking regarded the proceedings of the council session with, he admitted, only part of his attention. Much of his thought was dedicated to keeping his eyes and hands from traveling toward his wife, who sat beside him. They were now two months into their marriage, and though the fading autumn had brought the chill of winter on its heels, nothing had yet cooled the specific passions he enjoyed with Elluin.
Winter did, however, bring yet another petition from the Men of the plains, requesting even more timber for building sturdier homes and feeding their winter fires. And now that the Silvan clan leaders had expanded the number of advisors around the council table, a consensus about their petition was more difficult to reach.
Elluin's voice broke through his thoughts. "There seems to be a solution," she said, her sweet voice carrying into the room with enough conviction to halt the other arguments. "Once this council determines the stipulations, a contingent of Silvan guides will accompany the group of Men to obtain what they need in accordance with the bargain. We have done this in the past, as some of you recall, with good results."
"I recall very well that the queen nearly died," Bregedor said mildly, though his brown eyes were glinting. "The Men's faulty ropes were unequal even to the simple task of guiding a tree on the right path toward the earth."
"An accident, not likely repeated," Soronume asserted, and his voice held weight, as the near-victim's father. "And there are other things they may burn for heat, as the descendents of Numenor of old knew well."
Thranduil took advantage of the brief lull. "The queen's suggestion is sound, and seems wisest to me," he said. "Lord Bregedor, since your clan is closest to the Men's settlement, you may select the area from which the timber is to be gathered. Lady Amthril, you may accompany the group to represent Greenwood's interests as the contract is fulfilled. Lord Soronume, you will go as instructor and mediator, should any conflicts arise. As for the contract itself, perhaps—"
He turned to Elluin as Galion passed a document into her waiting hand with a bow of his head.
Elluin met his inquiring glance with a smile. "My king, Lord Galion and I have prepared a draft for your review."
Thranduil's eyes were warm as he took it from her. He only noticed he was staring at her when she surreptitiously nodded toward the document after several moments. He cleared his throat and returned to the task at hand, deciding to ignore the poorly-hidden smirks he could sense from some of the council members.
He managed to register the words on the page and nodded. "Well done. I deem this a fair enough agreement." Thranduil then passed it around the table to ensure there were no glaring objections from his advisors. He was hard pressed not to fidget in his impatience. At last, the contract was accepted, with only a few grumbles from the Silvans most opposed to "invasion by outsiders," as they saw the trading relationship with Men.
"With the king's permission," Soronume said, "I will take this to the delegates' camp outside the walls for their approval."
"A guard and I will accompany you," Telior offered.
"Very good. Let us adjourn." All rose at Thranduil's nod of dismissal and the advisors made their leisurely way out of the council chambers.
Even before the sound of their footsteps had disappeared down the hall, Thranduil felt a hand slip into his own. He turned to meet Elluin's twinkling blue gaze and bestowed a kiss upon her waiting lips.
"When did you have time to draft that contract, my heart?" he murmured. "I distinctly remember commanding much of your time of late."
"My clerks are quite competent, you see," she answered, her other hand wandering up his arm. "They are, in fact, making things much easier for both myself and for Galion. We shall all have more time for merrymaking as time goes on."
"Merrymaking?" He smoothed his hands over the soft material of her court gown, stopping below the jeweled golden belt about her waist, indicating exactly what he would rather do.
"Yes, Thranduil. Do you know how many begetting days have occurred in the kingdom since our wedding?"
The Elvenking's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Has there been a significant amount?"
"Indeed, there has. The king's wedding was most inspirational, apparently."
They shared a chuckle as they snuggled closer.
The news, however, managed to waken a concern in Thranduil's mind through his haze of delight, and he leaned back to look quizzically at his bride.
"Not too many to strain the bounty of the forest, I trust?"
"No, my love," she answered with a smile. "There is more than enough for the Elves, the birds and beasts, and the Men, many times over. And if our population does expand enough to stretch the Greenwood's resources, your treasuries will have grown so much by then, with all the trade you are building, that you could easily have other kingdoms supply our food stores."
He smiled, reassured and hopeful for this bright future foreseen by his young bride. "Then, shall we continue to be inspirational?" he suggested, pulling her closer once more.
"By all means."
~.~.~
Turiel and Maethon wandered along the starlit paths in companionable silence for a mile or two, breathing deep of the crisp mid-winter air. They stopped at last at the edge of their favored stream, running now more sluggishly with ice at its banks.
"How many of your birds traveled south for the winter, Turiel?" Maethon asked as they settled onto some boulders that had not been covered in snow or ice.
"Less than half. Some of them roost now close to the kitchen chimneys, as I suggested, and I keep them happy with food from the palace stores."
"Then come spring, shall I expect birds waddling about the courtyard, talking as well as any Elf but too fat to fly?"
Turiel laughed. "You are daft. No, I am keeping them well occupied with training—they have no chance to get fat. And though some of them are beginning to learn Elf-speech, I doubt any will be speaking any time soon."
"That's for the best, I suppose," Maethon mused, idly tracing some icicles hanging from the leafless skeleton of a bush beside him. "I should not like like them to speak too easily with the Elves, and have more gossip around the palace than there already is."
"What on earth is wrong with Silvans chatting with each other?" Turiel exclaimed. "It is the best way to get news."
"Nothing," came the quick reply. "But there is such a thing as too much."
The elleth narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I deem you have been receiving more than your fill."
Maethon sighed. "It is only that news has been requested of me endlessly since Elluin married. Everyone wants to know all about her relationship with the king, and how she is managing in her new role, and whether the kingdom will see many changes." He rolled his eyes. "As if none of this were plain as day for anyone to see."
Turiel smiled contentedly. "Besotted, the both of them. As it should be. And as fine a pair of leaders as can be wished."
The ellon nodded in agreement.
"You will not say more?" Turiel probed after a moment with a sidelong glance.
Maethon groaned. "Not you, as well, friend!"
"Oh, come, I have much more right to your gossip than anyone else, since I am just as close to Elluin as you are. Let's have it!"
Into the chill air, a great cloud escaped Maethon's mouth along with his sigh.
"I will tell you that she is making excellent use of her clerks, and Galion's," he said at last. "And the preparations they had made in the autumn now leaves them with few pressing matters besides what is brought to the council. Elluin and the king are often at leisure to spend time together. And…" his cheeks colored slightly, barely visible to Turiel in the fitful light of moon and stars through the canopy, "they take full advantage."
Turiel chuckled mischievously, but decided to avoid embarrassing her companion further by commenting.
~.~.~
Lairien stepped back with a satisfied sigh, gaze traveling over the new telain and cottages that Elves were currently furnishing to their liking. In the year since the wedding of the Elvenking, the population of Greenwood had begun to expand to the point that the builders were rarely idle. And now in the beginning of winter, the bare branches made perfect perches for new homes.
A few ellith nodded respectfully at Lairien as she passed them in her survey, noting the care they took in their arts as they sat singing together in a clear space out of the builders' way. Some were weaving, sewing, or embroidering while others prepared various foods. Others were warrior ellith and sat polishing gear, fletching arrows, or sharpening blades. Elf-children there were also among them, braiding each other's hair or weaving through the trees in games of their own imagining.
"Will you join us, Lady Lairien?" one elleth called to her.
"No, good Tharbes," the elder replied. "I am to report to the king on the progress of this new village before noon."
"Ah," Tharbes replied with a twinkle in her eyes as the Elves around her laughed. "You may find your errand delayed, Lairien. The Elvenking was seen traveling past earlier this morning, with his queen and their guards. I doubt you would be able to catch them by noon."
"A merry song they were singing," added another elleth. "No doubt the song will last the whole day long."
"Gwalothiel, which way did they go?" Lairien asked, exasperation coloring her tone though she smiled at the image. "I should at least have my mate send a few more warriors after them if they are to tarry long."
"They headed up into the Dark Mountains. Doubtless the queen knows of some tangle of grapevines sunning on the slopes in the last warmth of the year with which she wishes to spoil her new husband."
"Doubtless…" murmured Lairien, considering how to spend the day now that her assignment had lost its urgency.
"The Elvenqueen certainly knows the forest," Gwalothiel continued, still working her loom. "If it weren't for her statecraft, I would swear she were Silvan."
"Meaning Silvans are poor politicians?" Lairien accused in mock indignation. "I feel that myself and the new Silvan council members have made our worth known."
The weaver simply laughed. "There is a reason why we have not kept a king until Oropher and King Thranduil came, as you well know. We simply make it too difficult for each other for one Silvan to manage another to any great degree. It took the Sindar to bring us to heel."
Lairien scoffed. "There has been no bringing to heel." But then she looked benignly about her, noting how the Greenwood and its people thrived, more carefree than they ever had cause to be between the time of Morgoth's return to Middle Earth and the fall of Sauron in the War of the Last Alliance. "But they rule well enough with our consent," she ceded. "May the stars shine upon your labors."
"And yours," they chorused in farewell.
The new advisor took her accustomed joy as she briskly made her way back to the palace. While she was certain Cembeleg would not allow the royal couple to go anywhere with less protection than they needed, she would make sure her mate knew of the latest escapade. And she knew that conversation would end in them reminiscing of those long-ago years when she and the general were often caught doing the same. Perhaps, since the king and queen were otherwise occupied and there would be no council meeting for her to attend or training for Cembeleg to oversee, they might follow their rulers' example and lose their way among the trees for a while. Lairien picked up her pace with a grin on her lips.
A/N: A week overdue, I know! I have been distracted by the later chapters. Once again I warn you that this is not a happily-ever-after story. Time jumps ahead.