First steps
Bard left Dale with a small party four days before the midwinter festival riding south and west toward Long Lake. A day's easy riding brought him to the new Laketown now growing up on the far shore of the lake and he stayed the night there talking trade and related matters with the new master. It was inevitable that the future should be on the Master's mind and that he should seek reassurance from one he thought might have cause to know more of events in the wider world, and particularly their elven neighbours.
"I have heard that the forest recovers from the darkness at last." The master said as the first course was laid before them
Bard nodded,
"So it seems. though I know very little of the nature of the darkness that has sp hurt the great forest. Thiose most affcetd by it speak little of the cause or the remedy Though the state of matters beyond the mountains seems still to be in some doubt the creeping pollution of the forest closest to our land is retreating."
"Then I will take the reports to be true, for you are held in some esteem by the Elven king, having fought beside him, and so have knowledge rather than rumour to rely upon. The word of so great a lord must carry more weight than the gossip of the journey men.""
Bard smiled.
"Great lord he is; one of some power, not all of it comprehended by men I would guess. Though he wields much force that is also understood by men, not least in his sword arm, He is a warrior of the kind the minstrels sing, but if the stories are true he has seen much practice in harsher days."
The Master nodded.
"As did most of the elven kings and princes of the past; fair and mighty though their race is their past is mired deep in sorrow and war."
"True, for the old lore says they are hated above all else by the evil, though why that should be the case I do not know."
"Let us hope that we never need to know," the master said with a smile, "one dragon is enough for any man's life time. The Orc armies were routed, and we all lost many in that battle, let us hope that it ends the shadow for ever."
The new lord of Dale nodded silently, though something within him said that was not their fate. He took up the earlier thread of their conversation.
"King Thranduil has always treated me kindly it is true, more than kindly, for in his eyes I by chance belong to one of a vanishing small group to which he also belongs, those that have fought a dragon. I think it fair to say that he respects all who have faced their fire and survived it, and those too who have joined battle against the forces of the dark. None of the people of Dale, or the lake, from the youngest to the oldest cripple have any cause to complain of his treatment of them."
The Master inclined his head in agreement.
"That is true, he has never stinted in offering practical aid. But I confess I find him hard to deal with," he thought for a moment then gave a rueful smile, "I suppose it is because I am used the merry nature of the raft elves and find little that is merry in their king."
Bard nodded his understanding.
"I also found his nature strange at first, kindly though he has been. He always spoke fair to me, accepting me as a leader and equal in the world of men, despite my humble occupation when we fiorst met. Yet there was a distance in him that I did not know how to read at first. He did not fit with my vision of elves either, and he could seem stern and chilly at times, though his concern and understanding has never been in doubt."
He took a deep draught of wine and then sighed.
"It was my son that first put me right on the matter, for one day, after meeting with Thranduil, I mentioned it at home and he asked me 'would you find any king of men easier or less strange? For is it not the nature and fate of kings to always be apart? How many kings who have laboured for centuries to hold back the dark and keep their people safe from evil would you think to be merry?'"
The Master looked at him in surprise.
"Your son shows some insight for one so young, for there is much truth in that. It is indeed the nature of things that a king is always set apart; if he is not then jealousy and dissent will follow. Not only kings either, any who have authority over others for the sake of all must guard their tongues, their hearts and their preferences. If you were to ask the barge men on the waterfront here as to my nature no doubt they would talk of me as distant too, and I'm sure merry would not figure amongst their descriptions."
Bard smiled.
"Aye, I have learned that these past years too and confess that these days I would often seek to emulate the Elven king in his restraint. But then there is the matter of his elven nature to be accounted for also, I have heard that he is an elf not of Silvan stock, so not of the wood, but of the Sindar, and they are a more lordly people."
"I have heard much the same, and stories too of his past and the battles he has fought in."
Bard smiled at that.
"Great battles indeed, the stuff of legends and great tales. He was at the gates of Mordor itself so I have heard and I have no reason to doubt it. Once, when we met upon the road to talk of trade, we convened at an inn where the ale was thin and fare mean. It was my choice and I apologised to him and would have sent out to find batter meat and drink, but he waved my concerns away and told me that to one who had once dined only upon raw dragon flesh for a week no food or drink could ever seem truly poor."
The Masters brows rose.
"Such memories would never fade, and those who have them will always be set apart, king or not." He frowned on a sudden thought. "The memory of an immortal must be a double edged blade, for both sorrow as well as joy will be remembered, and it Is hard for men to comprehend the span of elves. If the Elven king hails from a time before this age then perhaps that is all the explanation his nature needed. I wonder how many of his kind still walk the world and how many dwell within the forest, for it has never occurred to me that the raft elves have seen such events."
Talk had then drifted back towards rafts, to trade and tariffs on the lake and river and all thoughts of the Elven king and the wider world were put aside.
As Bard rode across the marsh towards the edge of the forest he thought of that converstaion again and of its impact for his current errand.
Both dwarf and elf were strange to men; for the span of their years meant that they remembered things that were only story to the children of men. How many years had passed since the source of the estrangement between the dwarves of the Iron Hills and the elves of Mirkwood? For it had been clear when Dain and Thranduil met in Dale that it was both bitter and of some standing. Where had it started? Elves and dwarves were never truly friends, and those who lived side by side with both got used to the tensions that could sometimes cause, but Dain's anger surpassed what would normally be expected. As for Thranduil, he seemed unsuprised by it and yet there was no doubting both his own anger and the bitterness that seemed to have no obvious cause. Perhaps it was the result of a shadow of something long past, and yet he did not think that was the total case for it appeared to be linked to the dwarf Thorin who had died upon the mountain.
Whatever the cause he was determined that its shadow should not mar the peace of his people and it was for this reason he had ventured out in winter so close to the festival, determined to speak to the Elven king of the thing he held in trust and of his returning son.
XXX
It was just before the hour pf the midday when he came within sight of Thranduil's party settled at the side of the road close to a small cluster of trees. To those who looked upon it with casual eyes it would appear nothing more than a hunting group halted for a meal, for a fire burned brightly but no tent had been struck and the King was seated beside the flames cloaked and booted against the snow, his horse, draped in his banner, was tethered to a bush close behind him. He was ringed by a rank of elf lords similarly dressed, but each with a bow upon their back, and around them stood another rank of elf warriors casually scanning the forest with bows in hand and arrows nocked. The sentinels turned towards him as his party crested the rise and came within sight, though he was certain that they had been under observation by scouts from the party for a mile or more.
As they drew closer he saw Thranduil speak to one of the elf Lords who rose from beside the fire and came forward to greet him. Satisfied of his welcome the elf guards turned their eyes back towards the road and forest, and, as Bard was led forward, two more of the elf Lords rose and went to speak to his guards leading them a little way away to where another fire was burning and more elven guards were seated.
Approaching the fire Bard bowed and inclined his head in greeting to the Elven king and was given a similar inclination of the head, and a slight smile graceful inclination of the hand waived his guest to a seat beside the fire. Bard settled himself and addressed the Elven king across the fire with no further delay.
"My apologies, Lord Thranduil, for bringingyou from you Halls at such a season, and in such weather."
Thranduil made a slight dismissive movement of his hand and spoke kindly.
"No matter, there are many who can prepare for the feast and the weather is of no concern to me."
Bard, taking in the white armour, the silver grey lined cloak and the berry draped crown that sat so easily upon the king's pale gold hair, thought that this might well be true.
The woodland king took in Bard's snow damp mantle and reddened nose and his smile widened a little.
"But I assume the matter is of some urgency to bring you this far from fire and family."
He indicated to a waiting elf to bring wine and watched in silence while Bard drew off his gloves and wrapped his hands around the warm cup with a sigh of pleasure. He also noted the sudden sense of uncertainty in the man of Dale at the mention of family and suppressed a sigh, for he thought he knew what the topic of their conversation was to be. He waived away the offered wine cup and fixed his attention on his companion.
"What then do you need to discuss." He asked softly
He saw Bard dart a look towards his party beside the other fire and smiled again, waiving his elf lords away and waiting until they had joined the watching guards before indicating to Bard to come and sit beside him. As Bard rose the king spoke softly.
"You may speak in complete confidence. None will hear us, some because they cannot others because they will not."
Bard settled himself beside the Elven king carefully, suddenly aware of the height and solidity of the elf. He had seen Thranduil at war and had no doubt of the physical power of the king, yet that strength was something that was rarely given a thought by those who had more mundane dealings with him. At a distance, from which he was usually viewed, he could appear to be so strange and beautiful as to be unreal; but here, at closer quarters, his physical presence was real enough. Bard wondered how many years it would take for him to acquire something similar, if he ever could.
He drew a deep breath and steeled himself to ask what he must.
"It is in part of family I would speak my Lord."
Thranduil nodded, his eyes fixed on the fire.
"You have heard of my son's return and wondered what it means for your charge."
Bard inclined his head in acknowledgment and relief, glad to have the most difficult part of the conversation taken from him.
"I have my Lord. I know little of the matter other than your request that she remain within Dale and that the dwarves do not know of her presence if it can be arranged. But I believe that your son also has some interest in the matter and so I wondered if the situation is to remain as it has been during his absence? Or what you would seek to change in the arrangement?"
Thranduil turned to look at the man beside him, reading his unease without difficulty. For a moment he was reminded of his own early and faltering steps as a king and he took care to keep his voice as expressionless as he could where this matter was involved. Bard could not know the depths of the grief and turmoil that this matter carried, nor should he, it was not his burden to carry.
"Is there some reason, other than my son's return, for the matter to change?" he asked mildly.
"Not unless you wish it my Lord. She is safe enough for the moment, though in time that may change as the number of dwarves within the mountain rises; unless you think that Dain will forget his interest."
A strange look passed across the Elven king's face and he shook his head, his smile becoming bitter and mocking.
"No that will not happen, as well expect this snow to turn to white gems as hope for that. Such as Dain do not forget a grievance, real or imagined."
Bard drew a deep breath and spoke slowly.
"Then will the prince come to Dale about the matter? For at the moment she does as you have bidden her but should Prince Legolas come will that continue? What should I do if she tries to leave? Or if he should want to remove her?"
He met the eyes of the king as firmly as he could, wondering again what it was about those so very blue eyes that betrayed the centuries they had seen, even as they hid so much else.
Thranduil shook his head.
"He will not, either come to Dale or interfere with our arrangement, you have my word upon that. It is true that he had some interest in the matter that Dain spoke of, but, as I told the dwarf king, there was no elvish plot by myself or my son. You may be reassured that his concern in the matter was purely that of family."
There was a moment of silence then Thranduil looked back to the fire again and spoke slowly and with obvious reluctance.
"He and I have spoken on this matter at some length and I would guard his interests if I can, just as you would no doubt do were our roles reversed. He will not come to Dale, and should that change I will tell you of it before the event. For the moment things remain as they were, though I too know that in time another way and place must be found. Until that time she remains your trust unless you would have it removed. Speak if that is the case and I will hold no grievance at it for I know it must cause you some trouble. Other than that there is no need for you to understand more of the matter than you do and so for his sake I will tell you no more of it, but do not think it is for any distrust of you."
Bard took a drink of warm wine before replying.
"No my lord I would not surrender my trust while I may still honour it. As for the rest I understand well enough the difficulties a parent faces. I doubt it changes much however long the life of either parent or child."
Thranduil looked back towards him and smiled softly, a genuine rueful humour lit his eyes.
"No, it does not, though the relationship between elf and their elflings does change by necessity, and perhaps in a manner different to that between a man and his child. It must given that an elf can expect to live beside an unchanging parent for endless ages," a look of sorrow replaced the humour, "unless war or some other tragedy intervenes"
For some reason he could not fathom Bard was made unhappy by the look, for he would not have presumed to call the king of the wood a friend, and sought to dispel the cloud of grief that had so suddenly and unexpectedly descended upon his companion.
"As we are speaking of offspring my Lord, may I ask you a question that my daughter raised? It concerns you."
"Me? Well .. very well, ask and I will answer if I can."
"She had heard from a traveller that you were born of the Sindar lords and not the Silvan elves."
"That is true, what of it?"
"She had also heard that the Sindar as a race have a great love of music and song."
"Yes, that is also true."
"When we were talking of the coming feast she asked if the Elven king played music and if he did what instruments did he play? Forgive me if it seems an impertinence but she has asked several times now, and though I could forbid her the question, or lie to her, I would give her an honest answer if I can."
Thranduil laughed, a thing that Bard had rarely heard him do.
"By his music she would know him? A wise child perhaps," he said. "Very well you may answer her, and tell her that he plays harp, flute and lute."
"All, my lord?"
"All."
"Then I know what her next question will be; shall you play at the coming feast in the forest?"
The king smiled agaiin and the sparkle in his blue eyes was was not a reflection from the snow or the fire but came from something, some sudden joy, within him, yet when he spoke it was almost too softly for Bard to hear.
"There are no spiders this side of the mountains now and this midwinter all will partake of the feast. For the first time in centuries I will be able to enjoy the festivities without the knowledge that I have sent some of my people into the darkness and to danger when there should be light and laughter. Yes, this year I may play."
XXX
The eve of the midwinter feast dawned fair, the pale winter sun slanted through the forest drawing a glittering answer from the snow beneath the trees and filling the glades with a hard and brilliant light. The air was chill and yet bird song came from every direction and the occasional rustling of bushes betrayed the movement of those small animals that were awake and in search of food. Legolas sat on a fallen trunk and soaked in the beauty of the world around him, the bird song and the sounds of creatures moving was balm to his still bruised soul for it made it easier to bear the silence that filled his deeper being.
Seven sunrises had come since he first crossed the bridge back to his father's halls and each day had passed in similar fashion. In early light of morning he would ride out with the forage parties seeking kindling wood for fires and scouring the glades closest to his home for the kissing bough, only one of which they had so far found. As the sun rose higher they were joined by the elflings, released from the lessons and duties to gather smaller kindling and branches of green to decorate his father's house. This they laid on small sledges that little groups of them would haul back to dry beside the kitchen fires or pile under canopies of straw to wait the attentions of those older and taller than themselves.
As the daylight strengthened he joined the armed forage parties, those that ventured further from the safety of their stronghold and the lands protected by his father and towards the land blighted by spider venom. They had ridden north, south and west but so far there had been no sign of the creatures of the creeping darkness, however their legacy was clear to see, with many trees felled and others with branches dying, dead or already fallen. It would be many winters before the elves of the woodland had to look far for wood for their fires.
The first forays had been beset with worries, coming just a day and night after his first reunion with his father. It had been with great trepidation that he had joined the group as his father had commanded, but he soon discovered that things were much as he had been told, at least amongst his current companions. None of his previous comrades of the guard were included in these groups, most still occupied in protecting the Elven king's stronghold and the lands closest to it, or deployed in Dale, but there were many he knew by name and even some he had practiced with in the darker days. There were ten in his party and whilst there had been some constraint in their manner nothing that could not be explained by having the king's son amongst them, and an elf that had travelled further beyond the forest than they. Slowly had had relaxed, smiling at their constant banter and answering their questions about his travels and the things he had seen with relative ease, though not always as fully as he might have done.
When on the third day they were accustomed enough to his presence to put up a song as they rode he had joined in without much thought. The noise of their company was welcome for it shielded him from the silence he knew was waiting when he was alone.
The work was hard at times for some of the fallen trunks and branches were large and had to be cut before they could be fastened to the ponies sleges before being towed back to the Halls. Like the others of his group Legolas spent a fair proportion of his time on foot, freeing the dragged wood when it caught upon bush or creeper. Two or three forays they made a day, for the weather was kind with frost but no new snowfall to slow them down.
But kindly as the weather might be the winter forest still held dangers for elf and horse as the light faded, so as the sun slid behind the tree tops they would end their foraging and retreat to the land beside the river where large fires were kept burning. As the light faded the wood gathers and all those able set to cutting and stacking the logs and kindling within in the stalls built for the purpose. There many would gather for beside the large fires were set trays on smaller fires, well stocked with roasted nuts and sliced tubers sprinkled with herbs and spices. Small vats warm spiced wine and fruit juice stood at the ends of each tray. Once the labour was finished for the day elves would gather in groups, family and friends, to exchange news and gossip. For Legolas this was a time to listen rather than to talk and he spent much of his time sipping warm wine and gathering the mundane knowledge of day to day happenings of his kin.
As the darkness deepened he would withdraw to his room to take up his pen and continue with his report. That report was taking rather longer than he had thought it would for he would often find himself slipping back into the thoughts and fears of his days upon the road. But he was making some progress, which was fortunate as his father asked him for an update every evening before they dined. Other than that no further mention was made of the events that had taken him away or of their shadow. He suspected that his father would not raise the subject again unless he had some reason to do so, but it seemed that it was never far from his mind for on several occasions each evening Legolas looked up to find the king watching him with concern and a little sadness. For himself Legolas wanted more time to absorb the implications of their conversation of that night before he broached the subject again, for he found that he was no less confused and unhappy about the events than when he had ridden the road home.
But today the mundane chatter around him had held something of more urgent and personal interest to him. Two days ago his father had ridden out in the early light accompanied only by his personal guard, so not a hunting party, and his route had taken him east along the river and towards the plain in the direction of Dale. Legolas wondered what the cause of this journey might be, for the people of Dale and Lake own would be preparing for their own midwinter feast and so it was unlikely that any matter of business would require the King of Mirkwood's attention at such a time. The meeting had not been mentioned when they met and it had not seemed of such importance that he should ask. But as he stood in idle conversation with two of his own group he overheard two others behind him, not realising his presence, wondering what it was that had taken their king out to a roadside meeting with the new lord of Dale at this season. Their conversation had been more than idle gossip for it was clear that the king and his companion had been involved in discussion of some serious matter. Clear also that it had raised some concern in the minds of those discussing it. Legolas reminded himself that they had many reasons for concern, not least a mountain full of gold on their borders, a beacon to all greed and evil. What would they do if another dragon was to come?
But were such deep concerns at the root of Thranduil's meeting? He doubted it, more likely that the meeting in such a way and at such a time, was for more personal reasons, and it was not hard to hazard what those reasons might be. Strange though it was he felt no desire to journey to Dale, or to seek … her…out, either there or anywhere else. He had taken his father's words about her mistake and his hope to heart and he had turned his back upon it. For he was sure there was something else that his father had not shared that night, and that for the moment he didn't want to know.
As he shared his attention between the conversation before him and the one behind him Legolas was determined to tell his father what he had heard, Though speaking of Dale would be hard to allow that to prevent him from discussing a matter of real importance would be cowardice, and he was as determined to forswear any more of that as he was to abandon false hope..
XXX
The first day of the festival dawned jewel bright, the rising sun sending the mist fleeing and glittering on the overnight snow fall that had removed all traces of the previous days' efforts. Outside the Elven king's halls the fires were already lit, warming the freezing air a little and sending small plumes of white smoke up through the trees to trail lazily against the blue of the sky. Within the halls the fires were also lit and an early breakfast was in progress for those who still had duties to perform upon this special day.
In the royal quarters everything was bustle, breakfast had been consumed and cleared and Legolas was standing on the balcony of his father's rooms watching the preparations below. Behind him his father was engaged in signing documents prior to starting to dress for the day. As Legolas watched a group of excited elflings scurried across the threshold and out towards the growing fires colliding with a guard with horrified squeals before racing off to find something or someone who was, at that moment, the most important thing in their world. With a smile he turned back towards the room.
"It's been very many seasons since our people have been able to celebrate so well and in true peace."
Thranduil raised his eyes from the papers before him and gave a faint answering smile.
"Yes, I expect that to be demonstrated in the dedication they will show in enjoying it"
Legolas nodded, his smiled widening and he turned back to the scene below him.
The king finished reading the last of the sheaf of papers before him and signed it with a sigh. Then he waived his hand towards the pile and gave his secretary a mournful look.
"Let that be all the documents I see today, as the Prince has noted it is a celebration like few others these past centuries and I have other duties to perform, those better suited to the nature of the occasion."
His secretary smiled and bowed.
"Indeed Sire, and much joy it will give to many."
With that he gathered up the paper, bowed again to the king and then to Legolas and left.
Legolas looked at his father uncertainly.
"Did I catch a note of special meaning in that remark, or was I mistaken?"
"You were not mistaken." Thranduil's tone was dry and held a note of resignation.
"What then was his meaning?"
His father poured himself a cup of warm, honeyed, milk from the jug upon the table.
"I believe you found a kissing bough?" He sighed and sipped his drink.
Legolas nodded.
"Yes we did, in a glade towards the far west of the forest. It caused much joy for it must be the first found since the year the spiders crossed the mountains."
Thranduil sighed again.
"I expect it did. They are thought to be a sign of good fortune in the coming seasons."
"I know, but why… ", his words tailed off as he recalled the sum of the tradition and his smile widened.
"Ah yes, of course, it has been so long I had forgotten. But surely you don't object, you are our king and as traditions run it is harmless enough, and requires little preparation or effort. Nothing but a kiss, as a father might give a daughter."
His father gave him a long steady look over the top of his cup.
"Yes, as you say, our traditions are important."
Legolas nodded and returned the look with one of wide eyed innocence.
"There are communities where such things are less,,, parental of course, amd more...wearing. I heard of one when I was travelling. A society of mortal men it is true, they are more literal in their view of their lord as father. There they expect the first child of all marriages to be begotten of their lord. It is felt to ensure that the first begotten will be strong and binds all closer to their lord who is therefore kin to them all.
Thranduil met his look with one of apparent disinterest though there was spark in his eyes that said he understood his son's intention.
"Really? I would have thought it a recipe for fraternal infighting. But the children of men are strange creatures." He moved slowly across the room and stepped out onto the balcony, as he passed Legolas he leaned down and said gently, "I suggest that such hearsay doesn't warrant a mention in your report, there are some who might mistake your intention."
Legolas maintained his innocent look with some difficulty.
"But you said to report as fully as I could my Lord."
His father turned and gave him another of those long steady looks he was such master of before he replied gently.
"Nevertheless I suggest that you omit that particular sliver of knowledge. In fact you may take it as a command. Should you forget I might be tempted to widen the duty for our own particular tradition to all males of the royal line?"
Legolas grinned back at his parent.
"Somehow I do not think that would meet with the people's approval my Lord. The King it must be. It has been a long time, so how many….."
"Thirty.
"Thirty." Legolas said in awe, "that many?"
"Since last the bough was found and who remain as yet unbonded, yes. Few have sought to found family while the darkness has been so close."
The king stepped further towards the edge of the parapet and looked down at the gathering throng of elves.
"The years have been hard and they have fought well and long. I have no complaint of their loyalty, or of their steadfastness." He looked back towards his son, "this year will be a feast indeed and I begrudge them nothing Legolas. I will play my part and with joy however tiresome some elements of it may be,"
Legolas joined him and leant over to watch a gaggle of elflings trying to drag a long larger than any of them to towards the fire. He smiled softly.
"As will I."
He felt his father hand rest upon his shoulder.
"Truly Legolas?"
He looked up and met his father's eyes with honesty.
"Yes, truly, " he looked away towards the trees." It is as you said. Some do distrust me and with them I will need to work to prove myself to be as they once thought me, and there are others who are uneasy in my company and not only because I have been out in the wider world. In their case familiarity will probably prove the remedy; if I seem to be unchanged then in time they will forgive or forget depending upon their temper. For the rest there is curiosity and hesitation, some rumour has certainly been at work, but that will fade in time."
"And for yourself?"
"Ah well that might prove a slower process, but if I wish to remain here then it is one I must weather."
"Do you wish to remain? You know my feelings on the matter."
He nodded.
"Yes I wish to remain. If you are proved right and the darkness returns I would be here to fight it as our people prince if I can, so the healing must be done now, on all sides."
Thranduil's hand dropped from his son's shoulder and he smiled, inclining his head slightly. He spoke softly.
"Then I suggest you go and prepare yourself, for if you will be prince again, and I would have you be, today must be the start and your current dress would hardly pass for a guard captain."
Legolas looked down at his practice clothes with a wry smile for they were still liberally streaked with the dust gathered when he and Theringer had wrestled each other to the ground for the last practice arrow before the feast. He nodded,
"No doubt your steward has already given orders as to my choice of raiment."
Thranduil gave a short laugh.
"Do not doubt it, as he has already ordered mine I do not think he will have overlooked you."
Legolas grinned and walked towards the door, there he turned and stared back towards his father for a moment where he stood in the sun shafting through the trees watching his people prepare, unconcerned by evil for the first time in many centuries.
"My Lord, "he said softly, feeling a sudden tightening in his throat as his father turned with a sudden unguarded look of anxiety.
Legolas inclined his head and raised his hand to heart before extending it towards his father and king with open palm.
"May I wish you a joyful and peaceful feast day," he smiled again, "even allowing for thirty at the kissing bough?"
The look of anxiety faded and Thranduil returned the gesture, his answering smile suddenly brighter than the winter sun.
"To you also my wandering son returned."
