Chapter 4: A Fine Vintage

Caladhel began more and more to regret how she had handled her conversation with the King. She replayed the meeting over in her mind as she bathed, trying to find a way she could have turned it in a more positive direction. If such a moment existed, she could not find it, though she knew she could have ended it better than her stubborn refusal to let him win the argument.

Still, there was something about the whole encounter that made her uneasy. In hindsight, it felt as if Túven and Thranduil had been playing a game with her from the start. She had seen Túven follow all manner of varied protocols when at the courts of men and elves. She did not imagine the Court of Thranduil had none. On the contrary, it felt to her now as if they had been waiting for her to make a misstep. Her thoughts returned more than once to the dais and each time she wondered what punishment had awaited her should she have stepped upon it without the King's consent.

Caladhel finished her bath feeling cleaner but no less troubled. She dried her long hair as best she could and then wrapped it in a towel. She pulled on the robe a servant had placed in the bathroom for her. When she returned to the bedroom she startled, surprised, for she had a visitor. An elleth with pale blond hair was laying out dresses on her bed. Her attention shifted to Caladhel when she entered. The elleth smiled.

"Greetings, Lady Caladhel," she said. "I am Lady Beleth, sister of King Oropher and wife of Lord Túven, high counselor to the crown."

Caladhel, cautious now after her earlier encounter, dipped her head in polite acknowledgement. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady."

"Beleth, please," she said, waving the title off. "We are kin from afar."

"Then I am Caladhel."

Beleth smiled at her kindly and gestured to the dresses she had laid out upon the bed. "The King asked me to find something for you to wear to dinner. I brought a few things that might suit you."

"Thank you," Caladhel said. "My uncle wished my swift return. I packed nothing but travel clothes." She was uneasy about the coming meal and now wished she had brought something of her own to make her feel more comfortable.

"No need to explain, dear," Beleth replied. "Saddlebags wrinkle dresses terribly. I would have left mine behind as well."

Caladhel conceded the Lady was correct. Had she brought a dress, it would have taken a week to press out the wrinkles.

"I see you've had your bath." Beleth studied Caladhel's eyes and complexion, noting the brown tendrils flecked with silver that her towel had failed to hold back. She turned back to the dresses and chose one with silver and green floral accents. "Let us try this on you and then I will plait your hair."

Caladhel allowed the Lady to help her into the gown. Aid was not strictly necessary, for the dress design was not so complicated as to require a second pair of hands. It fit her form perfectly and was quite lovely, or so Caladhel thought, though somewhat different in design from those made by the Galadhrim.

Beleth sat Caladhel down before the mirror, and taking the towel from her head, began brushing out her hair. She studied the Lórien lady's reflection for a few moments before catching the younger elleth's eye in the mirror. "You have the look of your mother," she said, "though not so much her coloring."

"You knew my mother?" Caladhel asked, surprised by the revelation. She had met Lord Túven more than once over the past age and he had never revealed he was married or that his wife knew her kin.

"We both served as handmaids to Melian when she walked the world," Beleth replied by way of explanation. "Does Lady Calathiel dwell now in Lórien?"

Caladhel made to shake her head but her hair was caught up in Beleth's hands. "No," she replied. "She sailed west with my father after Eregion fell. She grew weary of war and my father went with her, for they could not bear to be parted. I remained with my uncle, for I did not wish to leave Middle-earth."

Beleth nodded, so many of their kind had gone west when Morgoth fell, during the long war with Sauron, and after. With every age that passed and every great evil fought, the elves' hold on Middle-earth diminished. Beleth knew it would not be long before their people vanished from the world completely. It was a woeful thought and she chased it away with another question.

"He was a Lord of the Noldor, your father, no?" She thought so, both from some vague memory of the ellon and the particular tone of his daughter's hair. It was a deep, rich brown, a hue more common to the Noldor than the Sindar. "A servant of Finarfin's house if I recall."

"Yes. He came with Finrod to Middle-earth. When Finrod died, he came to serve Galadriel and so he met my mother when she wed Celeborn."

Somewhere in the great storeroom of Beleth's mind there was a memory of Caladhel's father. She recalled it now. He had been one of Finrod's lords who would escort Galadriel back and forth between Doriath and her brother's house. It was upon one of these journeys that he and Calathiel met.

"I look forward to seeing your mother again one day across the sea."

"So do I," Caladhel replied.

Silence fell between them for a time while Beleth worked on her hair. Caladhel was surprised to find Lord Túven's wife so pleasant, for she found the counselor to be quite the opposite. It struck Caladhel strange, the mysterious force that drew two souls together.

Knowing she would never ask Lord Túven, but curious now, she asked, "Do you have any children, Beleth?"

Beleth's mild expression darkened considerably and Caladhel knew immediately her question was ill chosen. "I had a son," she replied. "He fell at Dagorlad with his uncle, alongside many of our warriors."

"I am so sorry," Caladhel said, cursing her stupidity.

"So am I," Beleth replied. She met Caladhel's eyes in the mirror and forced a wan smile upon her face. "But if the Noldor are to be believed, then I will see him again across the sea."

Caladhel wished to reassure her but the pain in the Lady's eyes looked well beyond comforting. "It will be so."

The Lady smiled, but her eyes told Caladhel she did not wholly believe. Caladhel was well aware that not all elves believed the tales of rebirth brought to them out of the West. She could not blame them. It was a hard thing for the Dark Elves of Middle-earth to trust a story told by a people who had more than once lied to and betrayed them.

That final thought made Caladhel suddenly uneasy, for though she had lived most her life among Sindar and Silvan elves, half her blood came from across the sea. The Galadhrim of Lothlórien were a people with bloodlines crossing all three races, though Silvan was by far the predominant. The same could not be said of the elves who dwelled in Greenwood, who were mostly Silvan in origin, but for their lords who carried primarily Sindarin blood. It occurred to Caladhel then that it may not matter to those here that her father played no part in the kinslayings of ages past. They may still look on her with suspicion.

"There," said Beleth, interrupting Caladhel's dark thoughts. "I think you are ready."


Beleth escorted Caladhel to the banquet and this time all manner of protocol was upheld. Lord Túven, himself, introduced Caladhel to the gathered crowd with a toast. He then proceeded to draw her around the room, introducing her to others she had never met. Caladhel did her best to remember the name of each lord and lady. Her circuit was halted when the King arrived. He was announced with great ceremony.

When he stepped up to his seat at the table he caught her eye. He was majestic in long flowing robes and his crown had been adorned with blue flowers to match his wardrobe. He wore a diamond necklace and rings upon his hands made of gold and mithril, which bore remarkable gems. She hoped the irritation she felt towards him and Túven did not show in her eyes. For after witnessing the greetings of the court this evening she was now convinced that her unusual reception earlier in the day had a purpose. What that purpose was, however, she could not say.

Lord Túven led her to her seat at the high table. She sat three places from the King. Only Beleth and Túven sat between them. The King offered words to his court and some trite welcome to Caladhel, though she made sure her expression reflected only graciousness at his words. The King bid the feast begin and all were freed to touch their dinnerware.

Galion, the head Steward of Thranduil's court began by pouring a glass of wine for the King. He filled Túven's glass next and Beleth's but when he came to Caladhel's side she set her hand over the glass.

"None for me, thank you. Just water, please."

Caladhel was surprised when the King spoke, admonishing her for her gesture. "You must try one cup, Lady Caladhel," said the King. "This wine comes from the east, north of the sea of Rhûn where grow the greatest vineyards in all Middle-earth. You will not taste its like in Lórien."

Caladhel had a long ride on the morrow and wine had a tendency to go to her head. She had thought water best given she would be travelling.

Beleth smiled at Caladhel in an attempt to reassure her. "It really is quite good."

Caladhel knew she could not refuse Thranduil's offer and was not about to start an argument over one glass. "If the King commands it." She removed her hand from the goblet and Galion filled the small cup before moving on to the next guest.


An hour into dinner, the dancing began. Every time Caladhel returned to her seat and started speaking with Beleth another lord asked her to dance. She was gracious and accepted each invitation. Beleth was pleased the Lady was so well received. She thought Celeborn's niece to be a charming dinner partner for her ease with conversation. The lords who asked to dance with her clearly thought her lovely and Beleth was pleased to think her choice of dress and assistance with her hair played a part in their regard.

There was only one unpleasant note to the entire evening and that was Galion, for he milled about behind the high table, never taking his seat at the table below.

He came again to her side for what must have been the sixth time refilling Caladhel's glass with the Dor-winion wine. "Will you stop that Galion," she shouted and placed her hand over the elleth's glass. "She has had enough."

"I am sorry, my lady," Galion stammered. A look of unease formed on his face. "I was told to keep her goblet full."

"Told," Beleth echoed, now thoroughly annoyed. "Told by whom?"

Here Galion hesitated but the look in Beleth's eye was withering. "By your husband, my lady."

"My husband?" Beleth's focus turned from Galion to the room. Her eyes searched the assembled court for her husband. She found him standing with a group of counselors but his attention was not on the conversation. His eyes were on Lady Caladhel as she danced with one of the young Lords of Greenwood. Beleth did not care for the look on his face. She rose from her seat and made a line straight for him. He saw her coming from ten paces away and looked to brace himself for what he no doubt already knew was coming. He stepped away from the ellyn he was with to meet her.

"What are you up to?" She kept her voice low so no others might hear, but her tone was sharp.

"Can you be more specific?"

His bland reaction angered her even more. "The wine."

"Is it a crime to be sure a guest is well attended?" he asked, only half-heartedly pretending he had no idea what she meant.

"You know how strong that vintage is," Beleth replied. "You will make her sick."

"No elf ever died of a headache," he replied, dismissing her concern and her anger all at once.

"I am not so sure of that."

At her words, Túven sighed. He loved Beleth for her passionate nature, but sometimes her thoughtless intervening in his work wearied him. He took her arm in his, drew her closer and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I assure you, love, my intention is not to injure Celeborn's kinswoman, merely to knock her off balance."

"Why?" she asked, curious now what it was her husband saw in the Lórien Lady that she did not.

"I do not trust her," he said.

Beleth shook her head. She pulled her arm from her husband's grasp and stepped away. "You are being absurd. I shall speak to the King."

Annoyed himself now, Túven took hold of his wife's arm again and spoke directly into her ear. "You will find that avenue disappointing. You would know that already if you knew your nephew better."

Here Beleth cast her sight on Thranduil and found his eyes upon Caladhel as she spoke to other counselors of the court. The King's eyes left his guest only briefly, to acknowledge Galion once again topping off the Lady's glass.

Beleth removed her arm from her husband's hand and left him to seek Caladhel's company. She stayed at the elleth's side for the remainder of the evening, noting that every sip she took was within minutes replenished. Beleth had thought to warn her off but her husband's eyes cautioned her against it.

Instead Beleth appointed herself the Lady's watchful guardian, noting when another hour passed that a glow had come to Caladhel's cheek. She was well into forgetfulness at that point, which was part of the drink's power. Caladhel would not recall how many sips she had taken, only that her glass was still full. Beleth shot her nephew a dark look of disapproval when once that evening she caught his eye, but Thranduil gave neither indication he noticed her displeasure, nor that he cared.

Once the King took his leave and it was acceptable for others to retire, Beleth took Caladhel's arm in hers and pulled her out the door. "I will lead you to your rooms."

Beleth guessed the Lady had drunk six full goblets by that time, and while Caladhel had maintained her quiet reserve the entire evening, Beleth could see that the Lady's eyes were now clouded and she found Caladhel pliant as she pulled her along to bed.

"Thank you," said Caladhel. "I do not think I could find my way alone."

"No thanks are necessary," Beleth replied. "You are our guest." Not that her husband and nephew had treated her like one. Beleth's anger burned in her again and she needed no foresight to predict the round of shouting in store when next she saw her mate.

Caladhel floated along beside the Lady who led her, feeling altogether exhausted. Her mind was heavy and the torch lights in the hall danced in a blur as she passed them along the way.

When they reached her door, Caladhel bid Beleth goodnight. "Thank you, again, for your kindness."

"Do you wish me to assist you?" Beleth asked, still concerned for the elleth's state and for fear it might worsen.

Caladhel shook her head and then regretted it as the hall began a slow spin. "I can manage the gown," she replied, thinking that the reason for Beleth's offer. "Good night."

"Good night," Beleth echoed before departing.


Caladhel found that a fire was already burning in the small hearth of her room and that her blankets were turned down. The fire was the only light and it gave the room a not altogether displeasing glow although she found it difficult to focus her eyes in the flickering light. Caladhel would have preferred starlight to the fire, but she did not bother to dwell on the matter. She would have the stars again tomorrow.

Caladhel first removed the jewelry she wore that evening. It was not much, but it was all she had brought with her – her mother's ring and a bracelet from her father. She would never leave them behind. They were precious reminders of her loved ones across the sea. She laid them in a delicately carved bowl resting upon the dresser. In the back of the room was an alcove that hid the private bath. There a fountain with water flowed from the rock and back down into a cavern below. She washed her face to ready for bed, too tired to do more than that.

She returned to the bed and holding onto one post, tried to remove her left shoe. She stumbled in the dark.

"I think you have had too much wine."

Caladhel jumped at the sound of his voice and turned in the direction from whence it came. He stood against the wall among the shadows and she struggled to see him in the dim light and through the haze that clouded her mind. She had not heard the door. Had he been there the entire time?

Thranduil was now dressed in simple robes and wore not his crown, nor any of the fine jewelry that adorned him earlier that night. Caladhel was unsure how to interpret the change.

"What are you doing here?" The question came out harshly, but the King did not appear to mind. She could scarcely be expected to maintain proper decorum when he violated her privacy so brazenly.

"I came to talk," he said, simply, as if that was an appropriate reason to hide in the shadows of a stranger's bedchamber.

"About what?" For all her wit, Caladhel could not fathom the answer.

"About you," he replied, and standing to full height, moved away from the wall and into the light. The red hue of the fire lit his silver hair, giving it a terrible glow, like a painting Caladhel had once seen of dragon scales.

"I have heard news of you from my counselors," he continued. "They say you are Celeborn's spy."

"What?" she spit out the word, unable to keep her irritation from reaching her voice. Her head was spinning and not from his accusation alone.

"Do not look so offended," Thranduil replied. "Spy was the word your kinsmen used, not mine. They heard it said of you by your Lórien lords following the council in Arnor."


Thranduil had been studying Caladhel carefully since she first entered the room. He believed his plan a failure at first, that was, before he caught her stumble on the way to the washroom. When her balance faltered, he smiled.

The Lady had demonstrated great skill and wit at their first meeting. Only a mere hint of irritation could be seen in her eyes when he insulted her cousin, but she did not allow it freedom in her voice and he had waited a full minute for her to take that final step up to his throne. He counted the seconds, but she kept her feet on the last step without being told to do so. His only indication that their meeting had truly vexed her was her final answer to his challenge. She could have told him what he wanted to hear, but the answer she offered, while it angered him, was a perfect retort. It was both a yes and a no. Túven, himself, could have been no cleverer. But no elf, no matter how shrewd, was immune to the effects of Thranduil's favorite wine.

The wine had accomplished what Thranduil wanted. He could now read every thought and emotion in her eyes. He took another step toward Caladhel out of the darkness. This time she matched his advance with retreat. Stepping back, she stumbled once more. Only her hand upon the bedpost steadied her.

"I think you should sit, else you might fall."

She stilled then and her eyes rose to lock with his. Suspicion had finally found her. "I had but one glass," she said.

Thranduil smirked. "It is a strong brew."

She lifted a hand to her head and swayed a bit. Her hand gripped the post tighter. "What did you put in it?"

Thranduil was amused by her presumption. "Nothing," he said. "I merely instructed Galion to ensure your goblet was ever full."

Here her gaze came to rest on the fire. Her eyes blinked rapidly. He knew she was having trouble with the light. The wine had that effect. He knew, also, where her thoughts were now – back at the banquet. She was trying to remember how many sips she had. She would not be able to count them. The wine had that effect, too.

He waited until he saw her eyes flutter closed before he asked. "Are you here to spy on me, Caladhel?"

Her eyes opened again and Thranduil saw fury ignite in them. The emotion was enhanced by the fire's light. "You know why I am here," she spat, "to deliver my message and return with your response."

"And that is all?" He did not believe her despite her sharp words and the angry set of her jaw.

"Those are my instructions," she replied.

"Indeed. But perhaps not Celeborn's whole purpose."

"And what purpose do you imagine he has?"

What purpose, indeed. In two strides Thranduil stood before Caladhel and he took hold of the arm clutching the post with his left hand so she had no retreat. "I think he hopes to distract me with a pretty face," he sneered, glaring down at her.

His right hand came up and took hold of her chin below the jaw, forcing her head back. She gasped, surprise shutting out the anger that previously burned in her eyes. He leaned in close. "I am not so much a fool to be lulled by beauty," he hissed, "for I know what may lie underneath."

Thranduil did not know at what precise moment his anger overcame him, but it had been lurking under the surface the entire time. Her refusal to admit guilt had been the limit of his restraint. Her free hand took hold of his, and he felt her nails bite into his wrist, but she would not break his hold on her. The surprise clear in her eyes only a moment ago had turned to fear and a tear ran down her left cheek.

Good.

"What would you have told him upon your return?" he growled, believing she would tell him now, if ever.

"I would say you care not who my cousin marries, but you hate Elrond and think yourself above him."

"And what else?" he pressed.

He watched as her earlier anger warred with the fear she felt now. And the drink, having freed her tongue and clouded her judgment, allowed her anger to win out. "I would also tell him you are less of a king than that fool adan who kept the Ring!"

Thranduil released her face and arm with a force that caused Caladhel to fall to the ground. His hands clenched into fists. He knew this fury had to be leashed else he lose control entirely. He bit it back, the urge to lash out, else he do something he would truly regret, or worse, reveal to Celeborn's spy his most guarded secret of all.

When he finally had control of himself again, he spoke. "You will remain here until I find out what Celeborn is up to."

Her eyes grew wide and the fear in them took account of more than the immediate danger. "I was to leave on the morrow."

"You are not leaving," he said.

"My uncle."

"I will send word along with your warden."

She shook her head. "Haldir will not leave without me." Her countenance shifted slightly, and there was something in her expression that looked to Thranduil less like fear and more like concern.

"He will," Thranduil replied, "else he desire a stay in my dungeon."

Here now he did see concern. Thranduil had not met this warden who escorted Caladhel to his halls but he suspected now the ellon might pose a problem. He would deal with it in the morning.

And as for the Lady of Lórien... "There is no escape from my magic doors for those who are once brought inside.* You will remain in Limrond until I see fit to release you."

He turned, leaving her there on the floor, and shutting the door upon her, locked it from the outside.


A/N: *Yes, I cribbed a line from The Hobbit.