Túgann and Legolas walked across the clearing, not in the direction of the cluster of rustic buildings belonging to Túgann's family, but diagonally towards the nearby entrance to the royal caverns.
Once they had entered through the main door into the caverns, they walked through the long tunnels until turning into the large open chamber which housed the baths. Its surrounding pillars were hewn out of the living stone and embellished with carvings. Some of the pillars were covered with vigorous patterns of rustic simplicity, while others with a swirling, intricate mass of vines, flowers and leaves, that resembled more the works of aesthetic passion which might be seen in jewelry of the classic Noldor mode. The latter were the work of Aranwë and not dissimilar in style from the finer and more delicate woodcarvings that covered balustrades and furniture throughout his family compound. Aranwë had worked in metal in ages past, but now preferred wood, working in stone only at his King's request.
The marvel of the baths themselves was the ingenious simplicity of their construction. The two large pools, one hot and one cold, were filled and kept clean with little Elven intervention. A small Elven-constructed offshoot from the mighty Forest River entered one end of the cold pool and flowed out the other end by force of gravity alone, insuring the water was always clean and fresh. The hot pool was fed by a natural underground spring, discovered when the Elves were digging the original foundation for the baths. The temperature was kept quite comfortable there by directing a small flow of the fresh river water through the hot pool.
The palace baths were open to the entire community in the early evening, and from dawn to late night on festival days, after athletic events, and on what seemed to be a myriad of other occasions added to with regularity by the imaginative Silvan community. The King's retainers who work in the bath area are fond of noting with pretended chagrin, but actual pride in the generosity of their Lord and the ingenuity of Silvan Elves, that the numbers of the community with open access to the baths seemed to grow exponentially year by year: those with old war wounds, expecting mothers, pedagogues and their students, the list went on and on. On this morning, however, the baths seemed deserted, with the exception being Thranduil himself, who rested facedown on a massage table in one of the semi-private rooms along the periphery of the hall.
Seeing his father, Legolas turned to his companion and said, "Go ahead to the pool without me. I will join you. I should speak with my father."
At the same moment, Thranduil noticed the arrival of the two Elves and smiled his greeting to his son. His good-humored gaze revealed his pleasure in his son's unexpected appearance.
"Father, I would ask a moment of your time."
Thranduil quickly sat up and responded easily, "Would you have me join you and your comrade in the waters, or do you wish to speak to me alone?"
Legolas guessed that his father's satisfaction at his request for his company would fade soon enough. He was uncertain of the reason for his foreboding, but the affectionate expression on his father's face turned penetrating, as though he too guessed their discussion would not be an easy one. There was no specific reason Legolas knew of that the topic of his developing relationship with Gellwen would cause any serious conflict between himself and his father. No word ever spoken by his father gave him cause to suspect that he would disapprove in principle of consideration of a betrothal with her. In fact, Thranduil had never spoken of betrothal to him, nor ever indicated the subject was of particular interest or importance to him.
That is it, Legolas thought. There was no consideration or discussion. I jumped into deep waters and dragged Gellwen with me without the slightest attempt to speak to either her family or mine. It will get no easier for me to speak if I stand here longer.
"Father, I do not know if I am asking your advice or reporting an accomplished fact," he began, locking eyes with his father, though it took some considerable amount of courage to do so. It seemed a point of personal pride that he should not lower his head, and it eased his heart to make that contact whatever the result might be. Thranduil no longer looked happy as he met his son's stare, but his eyes softened as Legolas raised his jaw in a nearly imperceptible movement. He waited for him to continue.
Legolas drew a deep breath. "Father, I spoke of love to Gellwen, daughter of Aranwë, last night. Something passed between us that I did not fully understand, but I know I love her and that she loves me."
Thranduil's face grew stern as he focused more intently. "I read in your eyes that you went far beyond what I would have expected of you with any Elleth of her age, much less the daughter of my friend and counselor. What is this feigned innocence? You have spent too much time in warriors' barracks to pretend you have heard nothing of the physical act of love. You have bonded with this maiden."
"Father, you are wrong. There is no pretense on my part when I say that I do not fully understand what happened. There was more and less to it than the physical act of coupling," Legolas said, surprising himself that, far from feeling embarrassed as he feared he would be, he was irritated with Thranduil for falling so far off target and with such apparent assurance, and showed his annoyance with his father in his voice and demeanor. "I but held her in my arms and kissed her. Our consciousness and hearts did meet as one at that moment and since then we have touched mind to mind from a distance." More surprising to Legolas than his reaction to his father, was his father's response to him.
"Please accept my apologies, my son. Perhaps I am the one who has listened to far too many barracks' discussions of that which young warriors may believe is love. What you describe is, in fact, not part of my experience. There are many forms of bonding and I do not presume to understand them all. At the risk of being unintentionally offensive again, I would know if you pledged yourself to Gellwen and, if so, what was her response."
"I tried, but she did not wish to speak of it further last night, although she made it clear my protestations of love and offer of betrothal were not unwelcome."
At that Thranduil stood and embraced his son. "So, let us follow her wise counsel, son, and wait before speaking of this more. I have a long day before me and you need to bathe and sleep. Go join your friend. Aranwë's daughter is truly lovely and well born, perhaps too well born for my tastes, but it appears it is not my taste that will win out is it?"
Meanwhile, Túgann relaxed in the nearby hot pool.
Since it is quite unheard of to have two births as close together as Gellwen and I, and then follow that with twins, the rumormongers questioned our family's Elven bloodline afterwards. "They breed like mortals," the gossips say. When such comments are reported to my father, he only laughs and says, "Apparently they forget the strength of fëa in your mother's family," making it sound less like a virtue than a fault. He loves to tease Mama and she always makes it worth his effort.
I remember Gellwen and Legolas together when we were Elf-children. It was during that period when she thought boys were rough and dirty and other girls were silly and dull. She chose, however, to run around after us boys. While we teased her for being little, she was quick to call us stupid. On those rare occasions when Legolas played with us, he would slow if she fell behind, removing countless imaginary pebbles from his shoes. He would gaze at her as though she were made of fresh strawberries covered with sweetened cream.
When she was still tiny, I once heard her ask my mother, "Does he not look like a High Elf from a dream or a tale?" My father was there also and answered, "Prince Legolas, son of Thranduil? He is a handsome Elf-child and intelligent too. I am sure you will know him well enough when you are both grown."
I was jealous. Gellwen was my best friend and constant comrade; my cousins were too much older to be true companions and the twins were still babies. I thought that she need not look to any puny princeling for friendship; she had me, her older brother. She was clever and cheerful. She laughed at my pranks and always defended me, physically when necessary. I can still see her as a small Elf-girl with coal black hair and a big voice, standing feet apart with her fists upon her hips, threatening an annoying playmate: "If you want to fight Túgann, you will have to take me on as well." Now I think differently. Instead of one sister, I may soon have two formidable warriors at my back.