Chapter 15: The Fire
Lothlórien
Third Age 109
Vernal Equinox
Celeborn was having a difficult time enjoying his daughter's wedding celebration. It was not only the endless preparations or the needs of his daughter's many guests leading up to the event that burdened him. He was distracted, and had been so for the last few days, ever since the arrival of the Greenwood company.
Upon his niece's return from Greenwood, Caladhel dutifully delivered Thranduil's acceptance of the wedding invitation along with the King's letter, offered her impressions of his reaction and that of his counselors, and threw in a few choice bits of intelligence as well, but no matter how hard Celeborn pressed, Caladhel would not tell him why Thranduil detained her or the reason he finally let her leave. Thranduil's letter offered him nothing, merely a list of guests and the gift of twenty barrels of Dorwinion wine for the feast.
Celeborn had not been foolish enough to expect a written apology or any apology at all, for that matter. A king had the right to request an extended visit of any guest, as Thranduil's initial letter so carefully framed Caladhel's detention. But with silence from both parties, Celeborn remained ignorant of what had passed, and if there was one thing Celeborn loathed, it was being kept in the dark. He did what he could to draw the truth from Caladhel, but dropped the matter after several weeks. He knew when to concede a battle lost and his niece bent no more easily than Galadriel once her mind was set.
Celeborn ultimately decided it was best to let the matter rest and put both his and the Greenwood king's mistakes in the past. He would have done so, too, if not for Thranduil. When the King of Greenwood and his company first arrived, Caladhel was, of course, present with the rest of Lórien's court. Thranduil and his niece greeted each other politely enough and outwardly, at least, Caladhel gave no sign that Thranduil's presence troubled her. It was later that evening when Celeborn noticed how Thranduil's eyes would seek out his niece, no matter where she walked or with whom she was speaking. Thranduil's behavior was not overt and Celeborn was certain he marked it only because of his own intense observation of his guest. Caladhel, for her part, appeared oblivious to Thranduil's attention.
Thranduil's watchfulness did not end the night of his arrival but continued the following days, through meals and meetings and afternoon teas. At first Celeborn could not put his finger on why Thranduil's gaze disturbed him so. It was Elrond who ultimately supplied the answer. Whenever Celeborn spied Elrond watching Celebrían, he saw joy and love for her reflected in his eyes. Thranduil's eyes gave away nothing. Only once could Celeborn discern any hint of emotion behind Thranduil's gaze, and what he saw was more akin to despair than to joy. It troubled him, more so because of Caladhel's silence than for any other cause. Still, as the days passed, Caladhel remained untroubled, so Celeborn chose to delay any confrontation in favor of silent watchfulness.
The day of the wedding arrived swiftly and all proceeded as planned. The ceremony was joyous, the celebration glorious, the food beyond compare, and the wine Thranduil provided, the best the court of Lórien had ever tasted. After dessert, the tables were cleared and the dancing began. Celeborn and his wife parted company, having agreed to split the task of mingling with their guests. Celeborn did his best to be a gracious host, giving each of his many guests their due attention, but he kept a furtive eye on Thranduil, waiting for the opportunity to speak with him in private.
An hour later Celeborn found himself with Greenwood's king, who was seated alone on a bench beside a great mallorn tree. Celeborn took account of the King from the shadows and followed the direction of Thranduil's gaze. He watched the dancers, or more rightly, he watched Caladhel dance. Celeborn approached and before he came within twenty paces the King's eyes were upon him. He greeted Celeborn with a nod and the Lórien lord bowed before seating himself on the bench. They sat together in silence for a time, watching the dancers.
Celeborn had considered long how to broach the topic of Caladhel's visit with Thranduil. All his memories of the younger ellon suggested candor was best, and he, himself, was too weary for anything else.
"Caladhel never told me why you delayed her departure from Greenwood," he said, "or why you chose to send her home." That was about as direct as Celeborn could be without being rude. He was, however, cautious enough not to use the word detained or accuse Thranduil directly of any ill motive.
Thranduil laughed, a response Celeborn was not expecting. "Is she not as reliable a spy as you thought?"
Celeborn had known in his heart that was the reason Thranduil detained her, and was somewhat surprised at how straightforward the King was regarding his motive. Celeborn took a sip of wine before he spoke next.
"She did tell me what you thought of Celebrían and her marriage."
Thranduil's gaze shifted from the dancers to Celeborn, his expression severe. "I never feigned interest in your daughter, Celeborn," he said, "though I admit to being surprised you permitted her union with Elrond."
Celeborn's gaze sought his daughter. She and Elrond were dancing to some ancient party tune from Doriath. Their arms were entwined and both were laughing. "It was not an easy decision, but nor was it truly mine to make."
"You are far too yielding," Thranduil replied, unsympathetic as he was to Celeborn's position.
Celeborn smiled despite Thranduil's unfavorable critique. "Love often has that effect."
A discomfited expression flashed across Thranduil's face. Celeborn was quick enough to notice, but a moment later the King's features were again unreadable. Despite the lack of feeling in Thranduil's expression, his eyes betrayed him, for they returned to the dancers. Celeborn followed the King's gaze once more to his niece.
"Caladhel is not much like my daughter," he said.
Thranduil's eyes abandoned the elleth in question the instant Celeborn spoke her name and his unease returned. "No," he replied. "She is not."
Celeborn watched her as she danced now with Celebrían. Their arms were hooked and they spun each other around. When they were children, Caladhel would urge her cousin to spin faster, so fast they would fall dizzy with laughter to the ground. Celeborn had always found their game amusing. Caladhel's father was of a different opinion.
"Most ellyn think her spirit too fierce," said Celeborn. "Her father called her Naurhin when she was a child."
Thranduil snorted at the apt epessë. "She turned those eyes on me more than once during her stay in Limrond."
Celeborn did not doubt it. Caladhel had a fiery glare like another elleth he loved. Celeborn's gaze swept across the field, seeking Galadriel. He found his wife speaking with some lords of Elrond's house. She felt his attention upon her and looked his way. When their eyes met she smiled, a gesture he returned.
"Even when my wife was young, her gaze made ancient lords tremble. It was what drew me to her when we first met."
Those same eyes sparkled at Celeborn and beckoned him to join her. He nodded, but returned his attention briefly to Thranduil. The lines of the ellon's face had drawn into a frown and his eyes were thoughtful.
Celeborn knew without a doubt that the King of Greenwood felt something for Caladhel, but what that was, he could only guess. Celeborn might not know what to make of Thranduil, but he was confident enough in Caladhel to allow her to sort the ellon out. He rose from his seat and looked down upon the young king. Celeborn was not quite over his annoyance with Thranduil for detaining his niece, nor had he forgotten the injury Haldir suffered at the hands of Greenwood's guards, but something about Thranduil's troubled gaze and the brief glimpse of his despair, stirred him to pity.
"Not all ellyn fear the fire," he said, offering what little he could in the way of sympathy, and with a bow, Celeborn left him to join his wife.
Caladhel took a sip of water from her glass when a pause in the music allowed her to escape the floor. She had not wanted to stop, but found herself slightly out of breath and in need of a cool drink. Haldir offered her a glass of wine when she passed him, but Caladhel refused to touch it. She had had enough of Thranduil's favorite wine to last her a lifetime. When she finished her drink, her eyes sought him out. She had seen the King of Greenwood earlier speaking with her uncle and wondered how well that encounter went. She knew her uncle was still upset by her lack of candor, but decided with the wedding so near, less detail about her stay in Limrond was best.
When she located Thranduil amidst the crowd she discovered his eyes already upon her. She wove her way through a dozen tables and across the open field to where he stood. He was speaking with a lord of his court, one whose name Caladhel could not remember. It mattered not. Upon her arrival the lord greeted her politely, bowed, and dismissed himself.
Thranduil stood leaning slightly against the trunk of a mallorn with a goblet of his favorite wine in his hand. She had debated earlier whether to invite the Greenwood king to dance. In the end, it was not a difficult decision. She would have extended the courtesy if nothing ill had passed between them, and so she extended it now, if only to avoid arousing suspicion and as a way of letting Thranduil know she was willing to forgive, if not forget.
"King Thranduil," Caladhel said in greeting. "Will you join me for a dance?"
"I do not dance," he replied.
"Not ever?" she asked, surprised.
"No," he replied, "never."
Caladhel's lighthearted expression fell and her mouth turned down into a frown. "Pity," she said, "good evening, then." She bowed to the King of Greenwood and was about to turn back to the dance, but a question halted her mid step.
"You bow to me now?"
Caladhel returned her attention to Thranduil, noting the surprise in his eyes and on his face. "You are a king," she said, as if he had failed to consider the obvious.
"You did not offer me such courtesies when I held you captive."
He was right, of course. But her reason, too, should have been obvious. "You did not deserve them then."
Thranduil studied Caladhel for a time and his lack of instant reproach surprised her. Caladhel had been sure he would, at the very least, admonish her for her past rudeness. After all, she was sent to Greenwood as an envoy, and a king's ill behavior did not excuse disrespect from a representative of a foreign land. When Thranduil finally did pronounce his opinion, it was not what Caladhel expected.
"I think I preferred it when you refused to bow."
Caladhel was surprised to hear him say so, but she saw in his eyes no hint of jest. She wondered at his honesty and what it meant. She wondered, too, how many glasses of wine he drank before she came upon him.
As if he had heard her musings Thranduil's attention shifted to his glass, but his expression was troubled and his thoughts clearly not on the goblet. "I am sorry I raised my hand," he said, "and not only because others saw the result."
Caladhel had accused him of that very thing the day after the banquet. She was surprised he remembered. At the time, her accusation appeared not to trouble him at all. If the Thranduil she spoke with that day had tried to convince her of his shame, she would have dismissed his efforts completely. She could not say why, but for some reason, this Thranduil she believed.
"I believe you," she said at last.
This time it was Thranduil who was surprised, if the look in his eyes was to be believed. "Do you?" he asked.
Caladhel merely nodded in reply.
Thranduil's gaze shifted from Caladhel to his glass, and despite what appeared to be his best efforts, the corners of his mouth crept upward into a smile. "You are welcome to visit Greenwood again whenever you desire."
"And why would I do that?"
"Beleth misses you," he replied, and hesitated a moment before he added, "and it would please me to see you again."
Caladhel had a hard time convincing herself she heard him rightly. It was no less than his aunt had intimated before she departed. "And here I thought all I did was make you mad," Caladhel said, for she could think of no other reply.
Thranduil lifted his eyes from the glass and found hers again. She was certain her confusion was written clear across her face. Thranduil's eyes held a different emotion but Caladhel was not clearheaded enough to give it a name.
"You have made me feel many things, anger is but one of them."
Caladhel suspected earlier Thranduil had drunk one too many glasses of wine. Now she was certain of it. This was not the conversation she prepared for when she came to offer the Sindarin king the courtesy of a dance. She had easily dismissed Beleth's suggestion that her time as Thranduil's captive had meant something more to him. It had felt, to her mind, too bizarre a notion to believe. Caladhel was hardly ever wrong in her estimation of others and to find herself so utterly mistaken was a rare event. Her thoughts returned once more to her conversation with Beleth at the gate.
"Before I left Limrond, Beleth told me you did not wish to set me free."
The lines of Thranduil's face drew into a frown as his mind looked back. "She spoke the truth."
"Then why did you let me leave?" Caladhel had asked him that very question when he came to her room, but the answer he gave was an evasion. She had not even been sure he knew the answer at the time, but she sensed now he might have one to offer.
Thranduil's eyes moved from Caladhel's face to his goblet and from the glass to the dancers in the field. Caladhel followed the line of his gaze to Celebrían and Elrond. They had yet to stop dancing. Caladhel was certain they would dance until morning. She could hear their voices ringing with laughter even at a distance. She suspected Thranduil could hear them as well. He watched them awhile before he answered.
"Perhaps I thought, if I freed you now, you might one day return to me."
Caladhel swore her heart stopped beating. It picked up its rhythm again after a minute's pause, and with it her breath. She stared at him blankly, wondering to whom it was she spoke that so resembled Greenwood's king. She tried to sort them out, all the versions of him she had met and wondered at those she had yet to encounter. If she had been called upon to wager an hour ago, she would not have suspected a romantic hid among the many fragments of his soul. She took a moment to consider if she would want to meet that version of Thranduil if, indeed, it did exist.
When at last Caladhel decided on the matter, she spoke. "Lord Iordor claims Mereth Nuin Giliath is the greatest celebration of the year in Greenwood."
"It is," Thranduil replied.
"I might be persuaded to visit for the feast."
"And what must I surrender to persuade you?" he asked, marking clearly her intent.
Caladhel considered both his question and the tone in which it was asked, cautious but willing to attempt. She would see. She smiled at the absurdity of it, but breathed deep and offered him her price, not so great as a Silmaril, or perhaps, greater yet.
"You must promise you will dance with me."
Thranduil's brow furrowed at her offer and at the sight of his expression she laughed. She dipped her head, turned away from him, and headed back to join the dance.
Thranduil's eyes followed Caladhel as she rejoined the other revelers. Her cousin greeted her and an ellon took her hands in his. It took no more than a single twirl before she was once again lost in the dance. Joy lit her eyes. He could see them shining even at so great a distance. Thranduil had thought them bluer today than their normal grey. The silver strands in her dark hair reflected the light of Ithil, so when she tossed her head she shimmered like Varda's sky. Her laughter rang clear, despite the many voices, and held for Thranduil a music all its own. She matched every rhythm the minstrels set, as graceful and sure in every turn and movement now as she had been with a bow in her hand. Thranduil watched her dance for many hours, and the longer he did, the more certain he became of one thing. In all the ages he had lived, he never thought any elleth so beautiful.
~End Part I~
A/N: So that's my original idea for an ending. On to Part 2!
