Chapter 17: No Mere Flattery

The council meeting ran longer than intended and focused largely on trade, a subject of little interest to Thranduil. It was nearly dark when the council agreed to reconvene the following afternoon to begin discussion on a far more pressing topic to Thranduil's mind, how best to deal with Sauron's remaining forces. Thranduil rose swiftly from his seat the moment the meeting was adjourned, eager to escape the confines of Amroth's council chamber. He was not quite fast enough.

"Thranduil," Amroth called after him before he was halfway to the door. "Will you share a drink with me?"

Thranduil turned his attention to Lórien's king. Amroth's tone was amiable enough, but his eyes warned that a refusal would not be accepted. Thranduil nodded, and waited as the other councilors filed out. He was surprised when Celeborn and Galadriel departed with them, having half expected they, too, would be a party to Amroth's post meeting drink.

A minute later the kings of Lórien and Greenwood were alone and Thranduil cast Amroth a suspicious eye.

"No reinforcements?" he asked.

Amroth's brow rose at Thranduil's question. He mocked Thranduil's tone with a question of his own. "Why, are we at war?"

A few months ago Thranduil might have offered a different answer. "No," he replied.

"I am glad to hear it," Amroth said and he beckoned for Thranduil to follow him. They made their way to the adjoining room where the Lórien king's private study was housed.

Amroth went straight to an elegantly adorned sideboard and served him and Thranduil glasses of wine from a silver carafe. He handed one off to Thranduil before moving to the seat at his desk.

"I am afraid it is not as fine as the vintage you provided for the wedding feast," he said of the wine.

Thranduil seated himself in the chair across from Amroth before venturing a taste. He found himself in agreement with Amroth's assessment and set the glass down upon the desk before him. "I can arrange to send you a few barrels, if you like."

"You are too kind," Amroth replied.

Thranduil dismissed Amroth's insincerity as easily as his wine. "We both know that is not true."

Amroth's expression told Thranduil he agreed, but the Lórien king said no more on the matter. He merely took a sip of wine and studied Thranduil from across the desk with a gaze that Thranduil found somewhat unnerving. He found himself wishing Amroth would speak his mind so he would not have to guess at his thoughts. He did not wait long.

Amroth set his goblet down on the desk before addressing Greenwood's king. "I have always considered myself fairly perceptive when it comes to an ellon's character," he said, "but I misjudged you, Thranduil. I misjudged how paranoid you have become."

A wave of anger washed over Thranduil at Amroth's biting accusation. He could not hold it back. It resonated with his voice when next he spoke, "Perhaps you would like to reconsider those reinforcements."

Amroth was unmoved by Thranduil's not so subtle threat and countered with a second observation, harsher than the first. "What need have I for bodyguards? I am no elleth that you can so easily harm."

Thranduil's rising anger was instantly crushed beneath the weight of his shame. It struck him hard, for he had not expected Amroth to know more of Caladhel's stay in Greenwood than her uncle. He was clearly mistaken for he could see in Amroth's pointed gaze that he had not chosen his words idly.

Thranduil did not think to defend his actions, for no excuse he could conjure would lessen his own guilt or the anger burning in Amroth's eyes. "I have apologized to Caladhel for my actions," he said.

"I know," Amroth replied, "and for some reason she is willing to forgive you – and more. You are fortunate. If I were her, I would not come within a thousand leagues of you again."

Thranduil could not help but find Amroth's continued insults grating. No matter he knew he deserved each one. "Is that why you invited me here," he shot back, "to tell me how you would spurn me?"

Here Amroth laughed and Thranduil was surprised to find genuine amusement in the sound.

"While I must admit upbraiding you is more than a little entertaining," he said, "in truth, I have other motives."

"And what would they be?" Thranduil asked, though he was not certain he would appreciate Amroth's answer.

"Firstly," Amroth replied, "I would tell you why I wished to send Caladhel to Greenwood."

"And why is that?" Thranduil asked.

"Because I thought you might like her."

That was not the answer Thranduil expected, and it threw him decidedly off balance. His surprise must have shown clearly on his face, for Amroth answered it with a mingled expression of triumph and condescension.

"I was not wrong, was I?"

No, he was not. And Thranduil found he wanted both to thank Amroth and curse his presumption. He had no reason to doubt Amroth's stated motive, but it was not the Lórien king's intentions that concerned Thranduil in the first place.

"And Celeborn?" he asked, wondering if Amroth would offer anything with regards to his counselor.

"I cannot speak for his motives," Amroth said, "or his wife's."

The second part he stressed in such a way as to suggest Galadriel was the real reason Thranduil suspected ill motives. Once again, he was not wrong, and again Thranduil felt an urge to spit venom. He did his best to rein his bitterness in, but did not wholly succeed.

"So you wished me to credit you as my matchmaker. I see. Is that all?"

"Not quite." And here Amroth came to the primary reason for their private gathering. "Caladhel told me of your invitation to visit Greenwood again."

Thranduil found himself surprised once more by the scope of Amroth's knowledge, and this time he could not help but voice his unease.

"She told you?"

Amroth's expression softened suddenly, suggesting he held some appreciation for how delicate the matter was in Thranduil's eyes. "You are not the only king in Middle-earth," he said. "I can play that card, too, when I choose. I had to pry it out of her. She was not happy about it."

Thranduil had experience enough questioning Caladhel to agree. "I suspect not."

When Amroth spoke next it was with great care, his words lacking in venom and humor, both. "Caladhel has dwelled long beneath these trees. She has been a sister to me, a friend, and I hold her so in my heart. Understand, I will not allow her to leave this wood again unless I know she will be safe."

Thranduil found Amroth's statement deeply ironic, for he had not freed Caladhel only for her to be caged by another king. "So you would make her your prisoner now?"

"I would keep her safe," Amroth countered.

From you. Those final words Amroth left unspoken, but they were not lost on Thranduil. He wanted to be angry with Amroth for the low expectation of him, but that emotion was crushed beneath the weight of truth borne by Amroth's words. Caladhel had needed protection from him once, and Thranduil could not say for certain whether she needed it now. He did not linger long on the question before his thoughts flew to another, one he was certain would pose a challenge to Lórien's king.

"You might find holding Caladhel against her will to be no simple task."

Amroth's former serious expression morphed into one of wry amusement. "I know her far better than you do, Thranduil," said Amroth, "and so I hold her in higher regard."

"Meaning what, exactly?" Thranduil asked. He was not quite sure what regard had to do with the matter, but the Lórien king was happy to inform him.

"You allowed her to wander free in Greenwood," Amroth said. "That was your mistake. If I truly wished to hold Caladhel in Lórien, I would know enough to keep her caged."


Caladhel was tired from the long day spent setting Caras Galadhon back to rights following her cousin's wedding. It was no easy task ensuring every chair and candlestick was returned to its rightful owner, but it was one Caladhel took well in hand. Her aunt and uncle had far greater matters to attend to and Caladhel was more than happy to be of help. Her fatigue was great however, so much so that she did not notice the King of Greenwood until he stood before her, blocking her path.

Startled by his sudden appearance amid her distraction, it was a moment before she collected her wits. "Good evening, King Thranduil," was all she managed.

"And to you," Thranduil replied.

"I hope you fared well this day," she added, but Thranduil's expression suggested the usual pleasantry would not be met with assent.

"I fared better than expected," he said, "but not as well as I hoped."

Caladhel did not doubt him. Those called to council were notably absent at the evening meal. She suspected, however, that a late dinner was not enough to cause Thranduil an unpleasant day.

"What cause have you to fare poorly, if I may ask?"

"The council meeting ran late," said Thranduil, "and afterward Amroth wished a private word. He can be long-winded, and I was not particularly fond of the wine he served."

Caladhel found Amroth frustrating too at times and could do naught but laugh at Thranduil's jibe. But despite her humor, she worried for what Amroth might have said to Greenwood's king. Amroth had promised her not to cause Thranduil any undue grief. She was, of course, well aware 'undue' was a term of debatable definition. But while Caladhel noted an air of irritation in Thranduil's tone, he did not appear overly concerned by the matter of his and Amroth's aforementioned conversation.

"Did you have something more interesting planned this evening than Amroth's invitation?" she asked.

"I had hoped to visit the training fields before the sun set," he said before glancing up at the sky.

It grew dark even as they spoke and Caladhel knew the lamplighters were nearly done with their evening task. "There is always tomorrow," she offered.

"Indeed," he replied. "Would you care to accompany me tomorrow morning?"

Caladhel balked at Thranduil's unexpected invitation. "Why invite me?" she asked.

"Did you not claim to be fond of swordplay?"

Caladhel was well aware he avoided her question by posing another. She knew, too, that she was hardly an appropriate choice of sparring partner for one so skilled with a sword.

"I am," she replied, "but you will not find me a suitable opponent. My skills are mediocre, at best."

Thranduil eyed her thoughtfully and while he did so his mouth drew slowly upward into a smile. "No one ever improved their skill by choosing to face only lesser opponents. You would do well to practice with someone of greater skill from time to time."

Caladhel knew he was right, but still thought it odd that he would waste his precious training time on her. She was hardly in need of greater skill with a sword, given how little she used it. She suspected his offer was merely a kindness, or more likely, an excuse to spend time with her. She had not thought it a course he would take, but by Thranduil's expression she knew his invitation was not a reluctant one. She found herself captivated by his smile. The King of Greenwood was ever a handsome figure, but his face was truly beautiful when he smiled.

"I will agree to join you," she said, "if you agree to a match on the archery field as well."

Thranduil's arched his brow at her suggested bargain. "How do you know I am not better with a bow than a sword?"

Caladhel answered his challenge with a smile of her own and an observation. "You did not carry two bows when you rode out after me."

Thranduil's smile deepened at her answer and there was laughter in his eyes.

"Shall we meet at the foot of my talan at dawn?" Caladhel offered. "One of the palace guards can show you the way."

"I know the way," Thranduil replied. "I will see you at dawn."

Thranduil fared her well with a nod, which Caladhel returned, before he continued on along the walkway. It was only after he vanished from sight that Caladhel thought to wonder how he knew where she lived, and if he had chosen to stroll this particular walkway in full knowledge that their paths would cross.


Before Thranduil became King of Greenwood he spent over two thousand years instructing the realm's newest wardens on edged weapons. It was his long experience that allowed him to quickly assess Caladhel's skill and challenge her without risking injury to either of them. He was grateful now for the years he spent teaching, for that reason, and another as well. Experience granted him focus, a thing he found challenging this morning, for he was unexpectedly distracted by Caladhel's attire. She wore a simple tunic and legging similar in style to when they first met. He had taken no note of her clothing when he greeted her in Limrond's great hall but he did now. The leggings she wore were a dull brown of simple, common design, cut close so as not to impede movement. They were hardly provocative, but even so. They rose from beneath the collar of her boots, accentuating her knees and the curve of her thigh before disappearing beneath her tunic. The dress was long, but the pleats fell back if her knee rose or whenever she fell, and she fell often in the early hours after dawn.

Caladhel found herself once more disarmed. She would have hit the ground if not for Thranduil's quick reflexes and his hold on her arm that prevented her from landing in the mud. He drew her smoothly back to her feet and returned her sword.

She took the weapon in hand and at long last proclaimed defeat. "I think I am done for the day." Her pride and her backside were, at the very least. They could not take any more of a beating, though her backside was indeed grateful for Thranduil's efforts to break her fall whenever he could. Despite his kind assistance, her tunic bore ample grass stains and dirt.

Thranduil merely nodded, accepting her decision, and together they returned to the benches where they set down their gear. Caladhel wondered idly what Thranduil thought of her meager skills and if he had secretly enjoyed each time he knocked her on her bum.

"Your technique is not terrible," he said in half-answer to her thoughts.

Caladhel sniggered. "If that is your idea of a compliment, it needs work."

"It was merely a statement of fact," he replied. "Your instincts are sound. You do not make the same mistake twice."

Caladhel thought the last part sounded a surprise to him. "Did you think I would?"

Thranduil shrugged. "Not many have the skill to recognize their mistakes and correct them so quickly. Your father did you a disservice by refusing you more advanced instruction. You would have done well."

Caladhel was surprised by the mention of her father. She had forgotten she spoke of him to Thranduil that night. She was also surprised by how coolly he dismissed her father's position. Even her aunt and uncle would not speak out against him, though both disagreed with him at the time.

"Do you say this because you believe it," she asked, "or as a flattery?"

Thranduil was confused by her question and the suspicion in her voice. "I am not in the habit of bestowing feigned praise," he said. "If I did not believe you capable of benefitting from further instruction, I would not have said it."

Caladhel crossed her arms over her chest and pinned Thranduil with a look of pure skepticism. "And would you grant your own daughters advanced training if they asked?"

Thranduil had no need to think deeply on the question for he thought the answer straightforward enough. "If their talent merited it," he said, "and that was their want."

"And if their want was to join your city guard or border watch?" she asked.

Thranduil did take a moment to ponder this question, for in truth, he had never before considered his future children, much less their talents or what they could or could not do. He did so now, for he sensed his opinion on the matter held some importance to Caladhel.

"There are ellith in Greenwood's guard," he said, recalling many he himself had trained, "and those who wish to join their ranks are not frowned upon. Though I will admit to hoping my own children will be spared wars the likes of which I have known."

Caladhel's arms relinquished their defensive posture. "As do we all," she said, before returning to stow her gear.

A question occurred to Thranduil at that moment, one that might explain Caladhel's intensity in the matter they discussed. "Was it your want to be a warrior when you were young?" he asked.

Caladhel's eyes rose from her pack to find Thranduil's again. She smiled and shook her head. "No," she replied. "I never wanted to be a warrior. I merely wanted the right to decide so for myself."

Thranduil found it strange how well he understood her, despite the fact that his choices had never been so constrained. All but one, that is. He had not chosen to be born to a king and with that chance of birth came its own restrictions.

"Shall we try our hands at archery?" Caladhel asked. "I should like to best you at something before midday."

Thranduil noted her mood brightened at the thought. He would oblige, if only to fuel the light in her eyes. "I am not a bad archer," he warned her.

"I have no doubt of that," she said, "but I will wager I am better."

Thranduil was almost certain she was correct, but would not concede the point so easily. "A round will settle the matter." He threw his gear over his right shoulder and took hers up with his free hand. "Let us find out."