Part II
Chapter 16: Second Thoughts
The city was quiet on the day after the wedding. Most in Caras Galadhon did not retire until the early hours of the morning and spent the remainder of the day at rest. Caladhel had tried to sleep, but the sun shone through the canopy in the late hours of the morning and into the window of her talan. It bid her wake. She might have ignored it on another occasion, but her thoughts were troubled and they caused her an uneasy sleep.
Caladhel rose and went about completing small chores and other tasks that had been left unattended in the wake of Celebrían's wedding. The work was not enough to distract her and soon she decided to take a walk in an attempt to clear her head. She took to her favorite path. It circled the northern stretch of the city amid the trees. One terrace along the way was a particular favorite. It overlooked a small brook. The sound the water made splashing over stones was always a comfort. Caladhel sought it now, despite the surety that its music would be of no help. When she arrived at her destination she took a seat on an elegantly carved bench positioned at the overlook. She sat awhile, meditating on the water and stones.
"You look troubled," a voice said.
Caladhel startled and turned. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts she had not heard him approach. "King Amroth." She rose and bowed politely, and to his comment answered, "I am fine."
Amroth clearly did not believe her. He cast her a skeptical look, a playful expression that Caladhel had always found charming on the former prince's face. That same expression cast upon her by the King, however, rarely boded well.
He came to her side and took her arm in his. "You are far from fine."
"What makes you think that?"
Amroth smiled down at her and patted her hand. "You are usually a much better liar."
Caladhel shook her head. She was not in the mood for amusement at her expense. "Thank you for that."
Amroth's smile turned to a frown at Caladhel's expression. "You asked." He looked down at her for a moment with apology in his eyes. "Walk with me."
It was not a question, though Amroth's tone made it sound less like a command. Caladhel nodded, knowing there was no way around it. Amroth had sought her here for a reason and Caladhel suspected she knew the cause. They walked together leisurely in silence and for the first time all day Caladhel's thoughts did not dwell entirely on Thranduil. They turned to Amroth instead.
Caladhel gazed upon his face, recalling the first time they ever met, long ago when she was no more than a few centuries old. He was near as tall as Thranduil, but with auburn hair and piercing green eyes. She had thought him beautiful and charming, too, and quickly became smitten. But Amroth's heart belonged to Nimrodel, and so in time Caladhel's youthful infatuation faded and the Prince of the Galadhrim became as a brother to her.
A brother who was now her king.
It was a torment to which Caladhel was still adjusting. She knew Amroth well enough to know what was coming, but wondered only why it took him so long to bring the subject forth.
"The wedding was a splendid affair," he said after a time. "I suspect many in the city will be awhile recovering."
Caladhel's thoughts turned immediately to the wine Thranduil provided the guests. "I would not doubt it."
"It appeared all went as planned."
Caladhel had expected nothing less. "None would risk my aunt's displeasure by falling short in their efforts." She was certain all in the city would rest easier now the wedding was done, most of them, anyway. Amroth had something else on his mind. "But I suspect praise for the food and decorations is not why you happened upon my path."
Amroth cast Caladhel a smile that once made her heart melt. "Astute of you," he said. "Many of the wedding guests have travelled far to attend. I expect they will remain in Lothlórien for a time before returning home."
"A reasonable expectation," Caladhel said.
"We will also be holding council meetings over the next several days, as representatives from all realms are already gathered."
"A practical plan," she added, impatient now for him to get to his intended point.
Sensing her rising irritation, Amroth obliged. "And I need to know if there is something I need to know in order to avoid any unpleasant scenes."
Caladhel frowned at her king and his question that was not a question at all. She made no effort to answer but Amroth was undeterred by her resistance.
"I asked Celeborn about your detention by Thranduil. He said you would not share the details with him."
Caladhel exhaled deeply and her arm stiffened beneath Amroth's hand as they walked. "Have you come to order answers out of me?"
"Have I a need to?"
Caladhel did not think an answer one way or the other was likely to be of help. She answered instead with a question of her own. "Why wait until now to ask me about my time in Greenwood?"
Amroth shrugged. "I thought time might loosen your tongue," he admitted.
Caladhel shot him a look. It marked the probability of that outcome as doubtful.
"Optimistic of me, I know, but now we are both out of time. The wedding is over."
Caladhel understood his meaning well enough. It was unlikely that anyone, Thranduil included, would dare start a conflict before Celebrían and Elrond's wedding celebration. Now that the courtesies were done, room was made for unpleasantries.
"I saw you speak with Thranduil last night," Amroth said. "He looked troubled after you left him."
Caladhel sighed and the frown upon her brow deepened. "We parted well enough." Her thoughts raced over all that had passed between the moment she arrived in Limrond to the previous night. Caladhel did not think she had it in her to explain all that happened, nor did she feel an overwhelming urge to share the tale. Amroth, however, required an answer. "I do not believe there are any problems of concern to you or the realm," said Caladhel, but she did not sound convincing even to herself.
Amroth agreed with her silent assessment. "The hesitation in your voice does not inspire confidence."
A grimace of discomfort formed on Caladhel's face. She had tried to offer Amroth something to ease his mind, but should have known the attempt would fail, given the chaotic state of her own thoughts.
Amroth's thoughts turned also to Greenwood's king, an ellon he knew far better than Caladhel's limited experience. "We were children together in Doriath, you know, Thranduil and I. From our youngest days our mothers wanted us to be the best of friends."
Knowing Amroth as she did, together with her brief but intense experience with Thranduil, Caladhel suspected their mothers were left disappointed.
"How did that work out?"
"Not as well as they hoped. We got on well enough when we were practicing our sword forms, but otherwise…" Here Amroth paused, memories of childhood surging to the fore. "He was such a serious child. He did not smile easily even then. I imagine his father's death has not improved his disposition."
Caladhel could do naught but shrug. "I cannot tell you. We had not met before this past year."
Amroth found that fact not all too surprising. Prior to Dagorlad it had been nearly eight hundred years since he had seen Thranduil in the flesh. Counselors and envoys carried out the regular correspondence between their kingdoms. He knew this was the first time Celeborn had sent Caladhel to Greenwood and Amroth wondered how much she knew of her uncle's intentions. There was only one way to find out.
"Do you know why your uncle sent you to Greenwood?"
Caladhel's brow furrowed. It was a suspicious question for Amroth to ask, for he knew her mission before she departed. "To deliver the news of Celebrían."
"That was not his only reason," Amroth said.
"What do you mean?"
Amroth hesitated a moment before revealing Celeborn's secondary motive. "He thought Thranduil might find you more interesting than his daughter."
Caladhel came abruptly to a halt and drew her arm from his grasp. "You are not serious."
"I am," he replied and cringing, added, "and I might have encouraged him a bit."
Caladhel folded her arms across her chest, a rare gesture that marked the extent of her anger to any who knew her well. "Do you wish me gone from your wood so desperately that you would marry me off to an ill-tempered king?"
Amroth lifted his hands in a placating gesture and shook his head. "That was not my intent," he replied, "nor your uncle's."
"What, then?"
Amroth was not sure their reasons would improve her mood, but there was no turning back now. "We thought Thranduil might see in you what we do."
Caladhel knew exactly what he meant, recalling now Thranduil's backhanded compliment about her making a better son. "You mean how unladylike I am?"
"In a manner of speaking," Amroth replied. "I happen to know that simpering fools have never held Thranduil's interest."
Caladhel was tired of people slighting her cousin, and though she knew Amroth loved Celebrían dearly, Caladhel could not stop herself from snapping at him. "My cousin does not simper!"
Amroth flinched at her tone, but maintained his position. "Not compared to some," he conceded, "but compared to you?"
Caladhel shook her head. Amroth was not wrong, but she was too angry now to let him be right. And as for Thranduil, there were many uncertainties where he was concerned, but of one thing she was certain. "If I was more of a lady, I would not have angered him so."
Every memory Amroth possessed of Thranduil told him she was right. "He does have a temper."
Amroth could see that Caladhel was still angry. He wished to make peace, but she had turned away from him and stared off into the wood. As he looked upon her he noticed a wayward strand of hair had broken free from her braid. It danced about the side of her face. Amroth reached out to tuck the strand behind Caladhel's ear. She was not paying attention to him, but looking off into the trees. When his hand touched her cheek she flinched at the contact, a small but fearful reaction that was over in an instant. Amroth did not miss it. In two thousand years she had never responded to such a gesture with fear.
A question occurred to Amroth in that moment that earlier he had not thought to ask. "Did he hurt you?" When Caladhel did not answer immediately, he reached out again and gently turned her chin towards him. "Tell me. And in case you are wondering, that is a command."
Caladhel cursed herself and the instinct that sparked Amroth's concern. Amroth's eyes brooked no argument but she had not actually considered lying to him. He was her king as well as her friend. "When he accused me of…I don't know what…being a spy? He took my chin in his hand and his fingers bruised me."
Amroth's expression darkened measurably and Caladhel worried what he might say – and not just to Thranduil.
"Do not tell my uncle," she pleaded.
Amroth was angered now, but also confused as to why Caladhel would keep this secret. "Celeborn should know of this," he said.
"I thought you wished to maintain peace under these trees." Caladhel took his arm again and drew him forward along the walkway. "My uncle feels badly enough for sending me to the Greenwood. I did not want to upset him further. And besides, Thranduil has made amends."
"How so?"
Caladhel cursed herself again. She walked right into that question and there was no avoiding the answer now. "He saved my life."
It was now Amroth's turn to draw them to a halt. He looked down at her with an expression on his face of mingled outrage and confusion. The outrage was most certainly directed at her.
Caladhel cringed. "Please do not ask me to recite the whole tale. Suffice it to say I was my old stubborn self and there were orcs and I would have died had he not taken an arrow for me."
Amroth closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. "And this is your definition of nothing to concern me?" He opened his eyes one at a time before he asked her, "How badly was he injured?"
"It took him a few days to recover from the poison on the arrowhead, but the wound itself was not dire. He has suffered far worse in the past."
Caladhel believed so, at least, but in truth there was no way for her to know if the fire that burned Thranduil's flesh was more or less painful than the days he sat in the dark haunted by his reflection.
Amroth heard clearly Caladhel's assessment of Thranduil's 'past' and had not missed the haunted look in her eyes. Taken together they could mean only one thing. "You saw his scars."
"How did you…?" Caladhel faltered, shaken by Amroth's unexpected insight.
"I saw him shortly after Thangorodrim," he explained. "I thought he would not live to see the morrow, but he was too stubborn to die."
"His wounds have not fully healed," Caladhel said, though she suspected he knew that already.
"I did not think they would," Amroth replied.
Caladhel, curious now, pressed Amroth for more answers. "Does my uncle know of his injuries?"
Amroth shook his head. "I do not believe so. There are few left in Middle-earth who saw him burned – Elrond, myself – perhaps a few of his close kin. Those who did do not speak of it, and Thranduil would not willingly reveal his injuries to anyone."
"He revealed them to me," she said.
Amroth's eyes widened in surprise. He had assumed whatever spell kept Thranduil's injuries concealed had broken with the arrow strike. "Truly?"
Caladhel nodded. "I came to thank him for saving my life. He permitted me to speak with him despite being unable to maintain the illusion."
If any other elleth but Caladhel had tried to convince him of this, Amroth would not have believed her, for he knew Thranduil's scars were a secret he guarded fiercely. Puzzled by this unexpected revelation his thoughts turned to the conversation he witnessed the previous night.
"What did Thranduil say to you last night?"
"He apologized for injuring me."
Amroth was glad to hear it, but there was more to their conversation than an apology. He was sure of it. They spoke for some time. "And what else?"
Caladhel shook her head. She was reluctant to say more. "It is not important."
"If it was unimportant, you would not try to hide it from me."
A scowl formed on Caladhel's face and she turned it on him. It had no effect. He stared down at her with a look of warning. He would make it a command if she forced him.
Caladhel was tired of kings and their commands. "When I left Greenwood I thought he was glad to be rid of me. I was wrong."
Despite his lingering upset with Thranduil and the stubborn elleth on his arm, a smile formed on Amroth's face. "So you grew on him, did you? I thought you might. You are an acquired taste."
Caladhel's first instinct was to elbow Amroth in his ribs. She quelled the urge, knowing it would only add to his amusement. It bothered her that Amroth had predicted this outcome while she had been left in the dark.
"One day he saw me as a threat, the next... I do not know what changed."
"Much, it would seem," said Amroth. "Or perhaps, only the angle of the light."
This time Caladhel did elbow him. She was not amused by puns. Amroth, however, found great amusement in them and often played games with her name. He faked offense, rubbing the side of his torso with his hand, but his eyes betrayed good humor.
Caladhel, for her part, recalled the room where Thranduil revealed his scars. She wondered now if Amroth was right. Had he seen her more clearly whilst sitting in the dark?
"What do you think of Thranduil?" Amroth asked as if he had been listening to her inner thoughts.
Caladhel shook her head. "I have met too many versions of him to offer an opinion."
Amroth rolled his eyes at her. He wished she would tire of avoiding his questions. "An impression, then?"
"He is complicated."
Caladhel's skill at offering answers that were at once truthful and evasive had always impressed Amroth. More than once since becoming king he had wished for her talent. "You are an excellent politician," he said, laughing.
Caladhel was startled by the memory of those same words spoken by Thranduil. The King of Greenwood had intended them as an insult. Amroth offered them now in praise. Caladhel thought it strange how two ellyn, so alike in birth and station, could come to see the same world so differently.
Caladhel knew Amroth only pressed for answers because he cared, and she knew, too, that to speak of what troubled her was the most obvious way to clear her head. Under different circumstances, she would have sought out her cousin, but Caladhel suspected it would be days before anyone spied Elrond and Celebrían again.
Caladhel often sought Amroth's council in other matters, but was not at all certain she should confide in him about Thranduil, though she could not say whether it was her king or her friend she worried to tell.
"I fear I may have made a mistake last night, Amroth."
The seriousness with which Caladhel spoke sobered Amroth instantly. "In what way?"
"Thranduil wishes for me to visit Greenwood again," she said.
"And your answer?"
"I told him I would, if he could persuade me." Caladhel wondered now what madness came over her when she made that bargain.
Amroth was intrigued, both by Thranduil's courage in pursuing an elleth he recently imprisoned and by Caladhel's willingness to give him a chance.
"I have never known Thranduil to back down from a challenge."
The humor in Amroth's voice was not lost on Caladhel. "I have no doubt of that," she said, "but if he fails, I may have put you and my uncle in an awkward position."
"And if he succeeds?" Amroth asked.
"I may have put myself in one."
The earnestness of Caladhel's statement caused Amroth to laugh. He put his arm around her and drew her close enough to lay a kiss atop her head. "I will have to hope for his success, then." At the glare of betrayal she cast him, he said, "What? I have no desire to negotiate the King of Greenwood after you have broken his heart. He is difficult enough to deal with now."
Caladhel pulled herself from his grasp and huffed, her expression cross. "So you would set me to the task?"
"Without question," he replied. And smiling down upon her, he added, "You are far more formidable than your frame suggests."
Thranduil did not retire until the first light of dawn appeared and Caladhel slipped out of sight. Without her presence to entrance him, he quickly grew bored and offered those who remained near him a good night. He returned to the talan assigned to him and tried to sleep a few hours, but his mind refused him rest. He had expected his greatest hurdle to be admitting guilt, and standing before Caladhel's judgment. She made it so easy, accepting his apology with a smile and a nod, as if it were nothing, as though she had already forgiven him. He thought that would be the hardest part, and it would have been had he stopped there.
Thranduil did not know what madness overtook him when he spoke with Caladhel. He could have ended his conversation with an apology, but instead… He wished to blame the wine, but knew it took more than a single glass to affect his mind. He had thought of little else these last few months but how he might convince her to return, but all the while he considered it fancy. She was free of him now. Why would she ever return? It made no sense to him. And yet he read no deception in her eyes when she said she might, for a price, and a token one at that.
He had not expected her to offer so easily the very thing he desired.
It was that thought that troubled him as he lay awake on the terrace staring at the sky. Thranduil knew in his heart that Caladhel would not return to Greenwood for something so breakable as a promise. He replayed their conversation in his mind, considering her every word and gesture. In time he saw behind her eyes and gentle words what she truly desired, a truth that might well leave him sleepless for all time.
"You spoke with Caladhel last night."
Thranduil startled at the sound of his aunt's voice. He had been so lost in thought he did not hear her emerge from the neighboring talan. "What makes you think that?"
Beleth sat herself on the edge of the divan where Thranduil lay, reclining. "That face you make," she said. And playfully, added, "Also, I saw you together after the feast."
Thranduil snorted and shook his head at his aunt's habit of keeping watch over him.
When Thranduil offered no details immediately, Beleth grew impatient. "What did you say to her?"
Thranduil frowned and shook his head at the memory. "Too much, I fear."
"That wine of yours does have a freeing effect."
Thranduil scowled at his aunt's joke. She knew better. Thranduil loved wine, but limited himself to no more than two glasses on any occasion. There was nothing in this world he enjoyed so much that he would sacrifice control of his body and mind.
"It was not the wine," he replied. And to Beleth's question, he answered, "I apologized for injuring her."
She smiled at him, pleased he had found the will to go through with it. "I am glad."
Beleth did not ask him about Caladhel's reaction. The light in her eyes told him she knew the answer already. But how? "I did not think she would forgive me so easily."
Beleth understood her nephew's confusion. Forgiveness was an effort for him. "It is not in her nature to hold a grudge," she said, "and too, your willingness to give your life for hers did not hurt your cause."
Thranduil suspected she was right on both accounts, but he wondered now whether it was Caladhel's nature or his own actions that tipped the scale. He wondered, too, which he would prefer and if, in the end, it mattered.
"I also invited her to visit Greenwood again." Thranduil watched his aunt's face carefully for her reaction.
Beleth knew Thranduil's thoughts often dwelt on Caladhel these past few months, but she had not expected him to muster the courage to invite her return, at least, not so soon after freeing her. She was pleased to have underestimated him.
"And what did she say to your invitation?"
The frown upon Thranduil's face deepened a measure. "That she would visit for the Feast of Starlight, if I promised to dance with her."
Beleth could not contain her laughter at the thought. "Now that is a challenge laid."
Thranduil wished he could share in his aunt's amusement. He might have, too, a few hours ago, but now… "At first I thought her offer absurd," he said. "I could lie to her easily enough and she would have no recourse once she was again beneath my trees."
Beleth was pleased her nephew took enough care in the matter to look deeper.
"It is not a simple promise she wants," Thranduil stated and looked to his aunt for affirmation.
Beleth rested a hand on her nephew's arm. "No," she said. "I suspect not."
Some small part of Thranduil had been hanging onto the hope she would disagree. That hope was severed and he exhaled deeply as it fell away. He was left then with only one other possibility.
"She wants me to convince her I will do for her that which I am loath to do."
"No easy task," Beleth added.
Thranduil agreed. He had been sitting on the terrace pondering the matter for hours and remained at a loss. "How am I to persuade her?" he asked in hope his aunt might know the answer.
Beleth reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. He was nowhere near a child, but in this matter Beleth thought her nephew truly naïve. Thranduil wanted an answer and Beleth had one to offer, but she was not certain it was one he was prepared to embrace.
"It is no easy thing to yield one's will to another," Beleth said, "but the strongest bonds of friendship are built thus, where each partner gives and receives in equal measure." She paused there and watched her nephew's expression to see if he understood her, but she saw only confusion in his eyes.
After a minute's pause, Thranduil shook his head. "Meaning?"
Beleth sighed. "It is not Caladhel you must persuade," she answered, "but your own heart. You must convince yourself to dance with her, and to do it joyfully, and for no other cause but to bring her joy. When you believe in your heart that you will do this for her, she will believe it, too."
Beleth could see he struggled with the thought. It was foreign to him, she knew. Never in his adult life had he yielded his will to another who was not kin or king. Beleth hoped he had it in him to try, for she knew he would not win Caladhel's heart without humility.
Beleth rose from her seat and laid a loving hand upon his head. When their eyes met, she offered him one final piece of wisdom. "Love is sacrifice, Thranduil. It can bring your spirit peace, but only if you see it as a strength and not a weakness."
Thranduil watched his aunt descend the stair. As she vanished down the footpath he knew not whether to be thankful for her insight or regret having asked. A promise he could make. A promise he could keep. Those obstacles were small in measure.
But to do so with joy?
He could not fathom it. Nor could he imagine how to accomplish such a task.
A/N: Calad means 'light' in Sindarin.
