Chapter Five: A Night in the King's Halls
Cóume led them on a narrow path through the woods towards the Northern Kingdom. Mélanyë felt excitement well up inside her as they drew near. The dwarves, however, seemed nervous and a little anxious as they followed the elf further into the forest.
Sensing his agitation, Mélanyë whispered to Ferar. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted to meet elves."
"Well," he whispered back, as if he were afraid Cóume would overhear, "I do, it's just that most of us have never been so far into their realm before. And those that have were here as prisoners." Mélanyë laughed to herself.
"That was a long time ago," she said. "And besides, we've been invited by the King himself!" Dwalin, having overheard the two of them leaned in and spoke softly to them.
"We were 'invited' last time too." Ferar and Mélanyë exchanged glances as Dwalin rode away, chuckling softly.
After a few hours march, the company crossed a bridge over a lake of dark water. Bilbo, of course, pointed out that it was the very bridge they had crossed while he was invisible.
"It sure was lucky I had my little Ring with me," he said, "Or the dwarves might still be down in the Elf King's dungeons!" He was giggling merrily, but Mélanyë was silent and thoughtful.
"Bilbo, where is the Ring now?" she asked. Bilbo stopped laughing, and it seemed to her that he became very serious.
"Oh, I..." he trailed off. "I gave it to Frodo. It's for the best, I suppose, since Gandalf seemed to think it important I leave it behind." She nodded, and studied his face. Then, as quickly as it had come, the dark mood passed and he was smiling again. "Look, now! We're approaching the gates!"
Two stone pillars rose up on either side of the path and Cóume led them between them and into a great gate like a cave. There were guards all about and they nodded to the strangers but, like the dwarves, were wary of the visitors.
They dismounted and left the ponies in the care of the guards. After being assured that their ponies would be well kept during their stay, the group shouldered their packs and followed Cóume to the gate.
The King's gate led into a great network of caves that were lined with many kinds of vines and ivy, and were lit with great tOrches. The air was sweet and fresh and smelled of flowers and clean earth. Every so often, the gems imbedded in the walls would sparkle in the tOrchlight.
The travellers were shown to a large room where they were to sleep for the night. It was lit by yet more tOrches all around and had small alcoves carved into the walls to serve as beds. These were filled with soft blankets and hung with flowers. Mélanyë turned to Cóume.
"We were expected?" she asked in awe. He smiled.
"Why do you think there were only three wolves that attacked you? Our archers spotted you long before you saw us." He knelt in front of her. "Your eyesight is keen, but not so much as an elf of Mirkwood." She felt herself blush slightly and turned away.
The dwarves were very happy with their accommodations, but soon the thought of food was very much in their minds. Cóume stood and once again addressed the company.
"If you are all settled, the King has requested your presence at the evening meal." he said. There were many loud agreements, and soon they were all filing towards the door. Mélanyë walked with Bilbo as they followed their host down the long glittering tunnel towards the King's Hall.
Long before they came near, they heard the music. The sweet Melody of the King's minstrels flowed down the corridor and met the visitors on their way towards the hall. They finally came through the large doorway into a vast chamber filled with elves dancing, singing and eating. In the center of the room was a large fire on a raised hearth that burned fierce and bright. To the side was a grand banquet table laden with many wonderful foods that filled the room with delicious smells. A group of musicians were playing their song to the King who was perched on his wooden throne against the northern wall.
When the King caught sight of the guests, he silenced the musicians with a raised hand and all attentions were on him. Mélanyë saw that to the right of the King was younger elf who she thought must be the prince. Perched on a smaller seat in front of the throne was a slender dark haired elf holding a black harp.
"Welcome, travellers," The King spoke with a clear and powerful voice, "I am Thranduil, King of Northern Mirkwood. I hear that you have travelled a long way, and have still farther to go. I am pleased that you have accepted my offer for a night's rest in my halls. Please," he gestured to the table piled high with food, " join us for our evening meal, and for songs and dancing afterwards!" Dwalin approached the King and bowed.
"I am Dwalin son of Fundin, at your service and your family's. We graciously accept your invitation and thank you for your great kindness in offering us shelter." He bowed low, as did the rest of the company. Thranduil laughed.
"Dwarves bowing to elves! Who would believe it? But what's this?" he said seeing Bilbo and Mélanyë among them. "You are strange looking dwarves!" The two came forward and bowed.
"I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, and this is-" He stopped as he was elbowed in the side.
"Mélanyë daughter of Ancalimë, of Rivendell," she said proudly. The King smiled.
"A hobbit, and an elf? But you are a little small to be an elf, are you not?" He looked to the elder dwarf. "What interesting companions you have, Dwalin! I see there will be no shortage of tales to be told. Come! Eat!" And with that the musicians resumed their song and all went back to their feasting.
The dwarves all crowded around the banquet table and began loading up their plates with whatever was within reach. Mélanyë stayed back and surveyed the choices first. Bilbo stood beside her.
"I think we should let the dwarves pass through first before we attempt to get anything," he said with a chuckle. She nodded and grinned. The elf that had been sitting by the King approached the two hobbits.
"Suilad," he said, startling them. They jumped and turned around. "My name is Liofa*. I am the King's Harpist."
"Liofa!" Mélanyë whispered in awe. "We hear tales of your songs all the way in Rivendell!" The elf bowed slightly and she thought she saw a shy smile.
"Thank you." He paused, and looked at the two in front of him. "I've never met a hobbit before," he said.
"Well, now you have met two!" said Bilbo. Liofa looked to Mélanyë.
"You are also a hobbit? But your mother was an elf."
"My father was a hobbit," she said. "Will you be playing tonight?" she asked eagerly, "They say none match your skill with the harp." Liofa was now most definitely blushing, but accepted the compliment.
"Yes, after the meal I will play." He motioned to the banquet table, now cleared of dwarves. "Would you like some company with dinner? I would love to hear about your journey."
The three ate and talked for hours together. Bilbo described the Shire to them in amazing detail, so much that the two elves could almost see it. He told about the last time he and the dwarves had come this way, and how they'd managed to escape in the wine barrels.
"We had wondered for some time how they were able to escape!" laughed Liofa. "We never suspected they had a little burglar with them." Liofa then asked Mélanyë about Rivendell. She described her home and spoke of Arwen Evenstar, and of Elrond HalfElven, her father. She then told them about her little bakery and of her friend Lindir. She fell silent then. She hadn't realized until then how much she missed him.
After the meal was over, Liofa was summoned by the King to play for the guests. He sat on his seat in front of the throne with his polished black harp. Silence fell over all present. Liofa sat for a long time with his harp, as if preparing himself for his task.
He struck a chord, and at once the hall was filled with music. Liofa closed his eyes and let the music flow from his fingertips. To Mélanyë each note sounded like a glittering jewel and the Melody washed over her creating visions of far away places. She saw in her mind cities of white and silver, the seven stars twinkling over the sea, hills, mountains, and vast forests lush and green. The tone slowly changed from happiness and joy to sadness and lamenting. Beside her, she heard Bilbo sigh softly as he listened. She moved closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, as he draped an arm around her. The music filled her every sense, until she felt she would drown in the sound. Her last thoughts before falling into peaceful dreams were of tall grey ships sailing away on an ocean she had never seen.
* Liofa borrowed from Varda's The Harpist's Tale