Chapter 23: Loose Ends

Thranduil was surprised to hear voices as he neared his talan. He was late returning from the falls and had not expected company. He spied Beleth first, seated on the terrace they shared. Two strides later Iordor came into view.

Beleth smiled upon catching sight of her nephew and Iordor turned in the direction of her gaze.

"My lord," said Iordor and he bowed, too, in greeting.

Thranduil returned the greeting with a nod. "Iordor, Beleth." And to Iordor, he added, "What brings you here so late this eve?"

"We were discussing plans for our departure," Iordor replied. "I feared this council of Amroth's would never end, but he assures me tomorrow will be our final day. We can depart any time after."

Thranduil was disappointed by this announcement. Under normal circumstances he would be elated, but at present the council served a secondary purpose. Without it, Thranduil would lack a suitable reason to linger in Lórien.

Iordor, for his part, appeared eager for their visit to end. Thranduil could not mistake his enthusiasm. "Impatient for home?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"I prefer not to be parted from Amariel for so very long."

"She was invited," said Thranduil. "I had thought she would join us for the wedding."

Iordor shook his head and sighed. "I tried to persuade her, but it was a hopeless task. My wife has no desire to travel beyond our borders."

Thranduil sympathized with Amariel's position, one held by many in his wood. The Silvan elves in particular did not commonly travel afar and few expressed interest in visiting other lands. Thranduil, himself, would gladly spend the remainder of his days beneath Greenwood's trees.

While Thranduil contemplated his forest and his people, Iordor studied his king, noting the mud on his boots and a few errant strands of spider silk in his hair. He was curious to know where Thranduil had spent his day. Iordor could not imagine his king traipsing off into Lórien's wood alone. He suspected a certain elleth had led the way.

"Are you not also eager to return to your halls?" Iordor asked. "On our last trip to Lindon you were ready to leave the moment the council adjourned."

"I do miss home," Thranduil replied, "but I do not find myself so eager to depart Lothlórien."

Iordor suspected as much. After the incident with Lady Caladhel a few months back, he sensed that something in Thranduil had changed. That something became clearer when he saw his king and the Lady together again. Thranduil's spirit lifted the moment he saw her and his eyes followed her everywhere. For those who knew Thranduil well, it was impossible not to notice.

"It is strange, is it not," said Iordor, "how swiftly the center of our world can shift position? Often without warning. I recall the day it happened to me."

It took a moment for the meaning behind Iordor's words to strike a chord. When they did, a wave of anger washed over Thranduil. It lit his eyes, and he turned his gaze upon his aunt.

Beleth raised her hands defensively, reading the accusation in his eyes. "I have said nothing."

Iordor, too, raised a hand in an effort to stay his king's anger. "Peace, my lord. Your aunt has not given you away."

"No?"

"No," Iordor replied, his tone firm. "You have been acting strangely ever since Lady Caladhel departed Limrond. I suspected the cause, and our time here merely served to confirm it."

"How is that?" Thranduil asked.

Iordor paused to consider a proper answer. He was unsure whether Thranduil would appreciate the knowledge, but in the end, chose to share his most striking observation.

"You smile more when she is near."

Thranduil could not contain his surprise at Iordor's observation and he looked to his aunt to confirm it. "Do I?"

Beleth covered her mouth with her hand in an effort to hide her amusement, but the laughter in her eyes gave it away.

"You do," Iordor replied. Indeed, his first glimpse of Thranduil smiling had been a remarkable sight, a welcome one, but not entirely foreign. "A time or two I was reminded of your father."

Thranduil's breath hitched and he felt as if a great weight had seated itself upon his chest. He found Iordor's sentiment touching, but painful as well, for it brought with it many memories. One, no doubt, they all shared – of Oropher encouraging his son to smile more often.

Like Thranduil, Beleth's warming heart warred with sadness at the memory of her brother. She beamed up at Iordor and set her hand upon his arm, grasping it tightly. "Oropher's smile was contagious, was it not?"

"It was," he replied. And turning to his king, he added, "It is good to see a smile on his son's face. It would have pleased your father as well."

Thranduil bowed his head in silent acknowledgement, for any words he might have spoken caught in his throat.

Iordor sensed the course of their discussion sat uneasily with Thranduil. Speaking of Oropher was still difficult for his son, and so Iordor thought it best to turn the conversation back to its origin. He looked to Beleth.

"When our time of departure is decided, I will make the necessary arrangements."

"Thank you, Iordor," she replied, and with a nod of her head dismissed him.

Iordor bowed to her and to his king. "My lord, my lady. Good night to you both."

"Good night, Iordor," said Thranduil.

Iordor departed swiftly along the skypath and Thranduil followed him with his eyes until he disappeared from sight.

"He likes her," said Beleth.

"Likes who?"

"Caladhel," she replied. "So does his son."

Thranduil's gaze shifted from the vacant skypath to his aunt. Her eyes were thoughtful, distant. It was clear this simple observation held for Beleth some greater meaning. Thranduil might have asked her what it was, if another question were not more pressing.

"And my father, what would he have thought?"

"To see joy in your eyes, my brother would have let you marry an orc."

Thranduil rolled his eyes at his aunt's attempt at humor. "Somehow I doubt that."

"Perhaps I exaggerate," she conceded. "But Caladhel… he would have welcomed her as a daughter."

Beleth said this with confidence, but Thranduil was not so sure. "He was never fond of Celeborn."

Beleth frowned and shook her head. She did not quite agree with her nephew. "He never understood Celeborn, never understood his love for Galadriel. Oropher told me once, when she first came to Doriath, that he feared his cousin blinded by some spell."

"Why would he think that?"

"Suspicion of the Noldor, mostly, but also, Galadriel was not much like the elleth your father loved. To his credit – or folly – Oropher had a difficult time imagining anyone could love an elleth who was not like your mother. I do believe my Túven helped prove him wrong on that account, but it took a considerable amount of time for understanding to sink in."

Thranduil was present on more than one occasion where, following some argument between Beleth and his father, Oropher had questioned Túven's sanity for marrying her. He smiled at memory. Those little barbs at his aunt's expense had often amused Thranduil, but he wondered now if his father would have questioned the soberness of his mind for pursuing an elleth like Caladhel.

Thranduil took a seat beside his aunt and she took hold of his arm. They sat together peacefully for a time while Thranduil collected his thoughts. While he did hold a measure of uncertainty regarding his father, there was one ellon's opinion of which he was certain. "Brandil would have liked her."

Beleth's eyes registered pain when Thranduil spoke her son's name. It was not often they spoke of him. The memory of his death, like Oropher's, was still painful to them both. Despite the aching of her heart, Beleth could not stop from smiling.

"Yes," she replied. "He would have liked her very much."

"He had a talent for charming people," said Thranduil. "I wish he were here now. I could use his advice."

"He thought himself charming," Beleth replied, "but not everyone was so susceptible. I suspect Caladhel would have been immune."

"I do not speak of Caladhel," said Thranduil. He was surer now after their day together that he might well have a chance at winning her heart. "I might succeed in convincing Caladhel to visit Greenwood. I might even convince her to stay, but there are those in Lórien who might seek to dissuade her. Not only Haldir, but her aunt and uncle, Amroth, perhaps Celebrían and Elrond as well."

Beleth set her hand upon Thranduil's and gave it a little squeeze. "Those you speak of love her very much. They do not wish to lose her, but they do wish her joy. You must help them see that we will love her as they do and that her spirit will flourish beneath our trees."

Thranduil could not imagine how to accomplish such a task, and knew it impossible in the few days left to him. "How am I to do that?"

Beleth smiled at her nephew and began removing bits of silken threads still caught in his hair. "You might not be the most genial ellon in Middle-earth," she said, "but those who spend even a short time with you know you always speak true. Tell them you will seek to make it so. You might be surprised to find they believe you."

"I do not see how I can convince them of all that in one day."

"You won't. It will take time. Limrond was not built in a day."

"Indeed," Thranduil replied. His gaze wandered upward to the sky. It was well past midnight and the final council meeting would begin in a few short hours. "There is much I must do before we depart."

"Then you must act swiftly. The King of Greenwood cannot linger in Lothlórien forever."

"I know," he replied.

Beleth set a kiss upon her nephew's cheek. "Then I suggest a bath and a good night's sleep." She rose from her seat. "Good night, Thranduil."

"Good night," he replied.

Beleth disappeared through the doorway of her talan, but Thranduil lingered on the terrace a few minutes more contemplating the morrow.


The council adjourned late the following afternoon. The hours of discussions had not been a complete waste of time, despite the handful of trade sessions that nearly put Thranduil to sleep. There was, however, one final matter Thranduil wished to discuss, but he decided not to bring it before the council as it pertained to his and Elrond's realms alone.

Thranduil caught the peredhel before he reached the door of the council chamber. "Lord Elrond, may I have a private word?"

Elrond's eyes briefly registered surprise, but he recovered quickly. "Of course," he replied. Elrond turned to his counselor, delivered some instructions and dismissed him. Erestor nodded at his lord's command and eyed Thranduil curiously before departing.

"What can I do for you?" Elrond asked.

"I have a request," Thranduil said. "I thought you might have time now to discuss it."

Once again Elrond struggled to hide his surprise. He nodded his assent and gestured towards the path that led to the forest floor. "Shall we walk?"

Thranduil nodded, and the pair took the winding stair to the forest below. When the voices of the other council members faded into the canopy Thranduil spoke, a well-rehearsed line he had been practicing in his head for days. "I wish to ensure that if Sauron returns, my people are prepared to face him. Our smiths are not as skilled in the making of armor and weapons as your smiths from Eregion. I would like to have some of our smiths train with them in Imladris."

Elrond, having already steeled himself in preparation for their impending conversation, managed to keep the shock he felt at Thranduil's request from registering on his face. It was the first time since Imladris was founded that Greenwood had made a request of the realm. It was a delicate moment, for Elrond knew that Greenwood did not ask for aid unless the need was urgent. Elrond was also all too aware of the lack of trust Thranduil felt toward him personally.

Elrond chose his words carefully when forming his answer. "The Gwaith welcome those who wish to learn their skills," he said. "They have few apprentices now so many of our own have departed. You need only send a messenger when you have made the arrangements on your end. Erestor will see all is prepared on ours."

Thranduil halted in his tracks so fast that Elrond was two steps ahead when he finally realized Thranduil was no longer beside him. When he turned around Elrond found a look of mingled disbelief and suspicion cast his way.

"Just like that?" said Thranduil.

Elrond frowned at the question. "What do you mean?"

"I expected you to bargain for something in return."

The lines upon Elrond's brow deepened and he breathed a tired sigh. "Would it put your mind at ease if I did?"

"Perhaps," Thranduil replied.

"Then let us consider it a debt repaid."

Thranduil could not recall any debt he was owed by Elrond or any other member of his house. "You owe me nothing."

"I disagree," Elrond replied. "Celeborn was in a strange mood in the days leading up to our wedding. I thought I had angered him or that he had begun to regret the consent he gave our marriage. I was relieved to discover it was another ellon who caused his upset. You were a most welcome distraction."

Thranduil was more confused now than before Elrond's explanation. "I am not sure I take your meaning."

Elrond had no interest in sparking Thranduil's temper so again he chose his words cautiously. "Your… interest… in Caladhel was not lost on Celeborn. He was so preoccupied trying to puzzle you out, he did not have time to worry over Celebrían and I."

Thranduil was startled by this revelation, as he had not been aware of Celeborn's attention prior to their conversation at the wedding feast. Thranduil was not fond of being labeled a distraction. Despite that fact, he understood how his presence could be viewed as a boon by Elrond, for even now Celeborn's warning weighed heavily on his mind.

'You must convince me of the same…'

Thranduil knew success in that matter was possible, for before him stood the very proof. Elrond managed to convince Celeborn of his worthiness – a far more difficult task in Thranduil's mind, given Elrond's mortal lineage. Thranduil wondered how Elrond accomplished such a feat, and despite the lack of amity between them, he could not help but ask.

"How did you convince him to let you marry Celebrían?" The question came out a bit more pointed than Thranduil intended.

Elrond's expression briefly registered surprise at the rather personal query, but he was not offended by it. "I do not rightfully know," said Elrond, after a moment's thought. "I loved her from the moment we first met, but Celeborn quickly informed me he would not consent to our courting. 'She is above you,' he said."

Thranduil found himself unexpectedly annoyed on Elrond's behalf. "Rather hypocritical of him. I imagine Galadriel's kin felt the same way."

A brief flash of amusement lit Elrond's eyes before his expression returned to its former seriousness. "You are welcome to ask him," he replied, "but if you want your smiths to train in Imladris, you will not mention my name when you hold that conversation."

"You never struck me as a coward," said Thranduil.

Elrond merely shrugged. "What you call cowardice, I call diplomacy."

"Diplomacy," Thranduil sneered. "A fancy word for lies and deceit."

"That is a rather cynical point of view."

"Is it? I would call it honest."

Elrond eyed Greenwood's king curiously, wondering just how far Thranduil's honesty would extend. "Since you claim to be so fond of honesty, will you spare some for me by answering a question?"

"That will depend on the question."

Elrond was certain it would, and he suspected his question might well be ignored, but he asked anyway. "Did you detain Caladhel because you thought her character dishonest, or because you confused her with her aunt – with me?"

Thranduil had not expected Elrond to be so perceptive – or so direct – regarding this particular matter, diplomatic as he was. Thranduil was not interested in making friends with Elrond, but he had no wish to have the peredhel as an enemy. His wife was too close to Caladhel for Thranduil to feel comfortable dismissing his question. Unfortunately, the truth was unlikely to aid him and Thranduil would not lie.

"A measure of each," he replied.

Elrond was unsurprised by Thranduil's answer, but he felt no offense, only wry amusement. "You do realize you would never have learned the truth of the Ring if not for Caladhel. She told the entire council and none of the Ringbearers had the foresight to stop her."

"A great disappointment for you," said Thranduil.

"I thought so, at first, but after taking the time to consider the matter, I have come to believe the Valar placed her in the path of those men so she could correct our mistake. It was misguided of us to believe all would be safer if we withheld our knowledge of the Ring."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he took in Elrond's words. "Is that an apology?"

Elrond revealed nothing in his eyes or the lines of his face. "If you were better at diplomacy," he replied, "you would not ask that question."

"I am sure you are right."

"Caladhel is a fine diplomat," Elrond offered, "her recent visit to Greenwood, notwithstanding."

Thranduil agreed, but did not see the relevance of Elrond's observation. "Your point?"

"Your kingdom would be well served by her counsel."

Under different circumstances Thranduil would have taken Elrond's statement as a poorly veiled insult, but he suspected some alternate meaning behind his words. "Is that the politic way of saying you would rather deal with me through her in the future?"

"That is one possible interpretation," Elrond said, smiling, "but it was not what I meant."

"Then speak plainly. I have no patience for veiled commentary."

Elrond exhaled deeply before meeting Thranduil's eyes. "I meant I would not be displeased to find myself your kinsman by marriage as well as by blood."

Thranduil could not contain a short bark of skeptical laughter. "You might come to rue that sentiment."

"I might," Elrond replied, "but you will have to convince her to marry you first."

The barb landed as Thranduil suspected it was meant to, but he could detect no ill wishes in Elrond's eyes. He wanted to keep it that way, and suspected an end to their tense conversation would be the best way to preserve peace between them. "I believe I have taken up enough of your time, Lord Elrond. I am sure you have preparations to make before departing."

"So I do," he replied. "I will inform Erestor of the other matter. Good day, King Thranduil."

Elrond bowed before departing and Thranduil nodded his head. He watched the Lord of Imladris retreat towards the palace and it irked him to note how effortlessly the half-elven lord carried himself like a king.


It took nearly an hour for Thranduil to track the ellon down. It would have taken less time if the few wardens he passed along the way had been more forthcoming regarding their commander's whereabouts. Thranduil sensed the young wardens wished to avoid being responsible for any further confrontations between Haldir and Greenwood's king. Thranduil could not blame them, and so chose not to press when they claimed they knew not where to find him.

Thranduil knocked upon the door of the guard station and heard a voice call out for him to enter. He opened the door and spied Haldir a second later, seated at a desk surveying reports. He did not lift his gaze from the parchment immediately, but when he did, his eyes betrayed surprise at the sight of his guest. Thranduil did not greet Haldir nor did Haldir greet him. Thranduil merely shut the door, and spying a sideboard complete with glasses and a carafe, he made short work of pouring them both a glass of wine. He set one glass on the desk before Haldir and took the seat across from him.

Haldir did not reach for the proffered drink, but Thranduil swirled the liquid in his, permitting it to breathe before taking a sip. He was surprised to find it tasted better than the wine Amroth served, but he could not tell whether it was the ageing of the grapes or the fact he was feeling less bitter that improved the taste. He set the glass down on the edge of Haldir's desk and met the warden's gaze. Haldir had quickly mastered his surprise. All Thranduil could discern in the warden's eyes now was a cool intensity.

"My father feels I owe you an apology," Haldir said, "but he stopped short of making it a command."

Thranduil was not surprised to hear it. Lord Thandaer had been more shocked and offended than anyone by his son's actions. "It would have been a wasted effort if he had. We both know you will never be sorry."

Indeed, Thranduil had not come for an apology, nor would he have accepted one given under a superior's command. On the contrary, he had expected more enmity from Haldir at this encounter and was impressed by his calm, given the rage that moved him not two days earlier.

"I thought to see more hatred in your eyes," Thranduil admitted. "It appears somewhat diminished."

"It would be simpler to hate you," Haldir replied, "but I have found that an impossible task."

"Why is that?"

Haldir sighed, his rage defeated. "You saved her life. I can not hate you for that."

"But I was the reason she needed saving. Is that not what you believe?"

"It is," Haldir replied.

"I, also." Thranduil took up his glass again and sipped the wine. It gave him time to collect his thoughts. Thranduil knew enough of Haldir not to expect praise for saving Caladhel's life, despite Haldir's obvious feelings for her. The Lórien warden understood the difference between duty and love.

"I did not care for her much when I took that arrow. In truth, I found her infuriating."

"She can be that," Haldir agreed. "And yet, it is whispered throughout Lórien that you favor her company now. What changed?"

It was not a simple question. Thranduil suspected Haldir knew that as well. The answer was too complicated, too personal to share. Thranduil met the warden's eyes and held them, hoping the answer he could offer would not be taken as an evasion.

"Everything," Thranduil replied.

Haldir held Thranduil's gaze a few moments before seeking out his drink. He picked up the cup and took a swig before setting it down again. His eyes lingered on the glass for a time before he returned his attention to Greenwood's king.

"Why did you come here?" he asked.

Thranduil wished he knew the answer. Had he come to apologize? To reassure? Each of these reasons and a dozen more flashed across his mind. "I am not quite certain," he replied.

"I am," said Haldir.

The warden's certainty was unmistakable and Thranduil was curious to hear him speak his mind. "Truly? Would you care to enlighten me?"

Haldir took up his cup again and finished what remained in the glass. He set the cup aside. "She does not love me. That is what you want to hear."

Thranduil could not find it in his heart to protest, even for Haldir's sake. It might not be the sole reason Thranduil sought the warden out, but it was one of the more potent. He wanted to hear it, needed to, not from his aunt or Caladhel, but from this ellon alone. The words were a comfort to Thranduil's soul, but left him not as cheerful as he had imagined.

"I am sorry."

"Why?"

"I don't know why," Thranduil replied. "I know only that I am."

"I do not want your pity," Haldir growled and a flash of anger lit his eyes.

Thranduil understood the sentiment. There was no emotion he loathed more. "Then call it… understanding."

This sat better with Haldir and his anger slowly receded. Thranduil attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction, to a topic he had come to address. An apology, of sorts. "I regret the treatment you received under my trees," he said. "You will find a warmer welcome if ever you return."

"And why is that?"

It was a fair question and deserved an honest answer. There was only one Thranduil could rightfully give. "Because she does love you, if not quite in the way you wish."

Haldir was puzzled by this answer. "You would extend courtesy to me – for her sake?"

"For her," said Thranduil, "and for myself. Like Amroth, I, too, grow weary of ellyn who soften their blows and bite their tongues solely because I am a king."

Haldir stared at Thranduil in mild disbelief, wondering how deeply his conviction ran. "I meant what I said to you on the training field."

Thranduil smiled at the memory of Haldir's threat. "I never doubted it," he replied.

Haldir accepted Thranduil's confirmation with a nod of his head.

There was not much more Thranduil could do or say at the moment with regards to Haldir and he felt it best not to press his luck all in one day. He gestured to the stack of reports beneath the warden's hand. "You have work to complete before the parting feast. I will not take anymore of your time."

Haldir nodded formally and Thranduil found himself a bit surprised. It was the first gesture of respect Haldir had offered him since they met, a small thing, but something at the very least. Thranduil rose from his seat and nodded his farewell, but at the door he lingered. He turned back to Haldir, and catching the warden's gaze, offered him a final word in parting.

"I will never hurt her again," he said, "but I find a strange comfort in knowing, if ever I did, that I would die soon after."

Haldir said nothing to this, merely nodded his head, but in his eyes Thranduil saw they understood each other.


The parting feast was nearly as grand as the wedding celebration. The room was full of anticipation, as the company from Imladris would be departing the following day. The others would follow soon after. Thranduil did not care about the food or the wine or the many ellyn and ellith who wished to fare him well. His concern lay entirely with Caladhel. He was eager to speak with her again, desperate in fact, but she would not be found alone that night. Celebrían hung on her arm and she on her cousin's. They laughed and danced and sang and whispered to each other. Thranduil was slowly coming to the conclusion he would not see them parted that night.

"Thranduil."

A voice called him to attention while he watched Caladhel and Celebrían dance. Thranduil recognized the speaker, and greeted him without turning his way. "Amroth."

Amroth came up alongside Thranduil and followed the direction of his gaze. He shook his head. "I would give up hope of speaking with Caladhel this evening," said Amroth. "Those two will not be parted until morning."

"I suspect you are right," Thranduil said with a sigh. No matter how much he wished to steal a moment with Caladhel, he would not intrude on the time she had remaining with her cousin. Abandoning the ladies, he turned his attention to Lórien's king.

"My company will depart for Greenwood the day after tomorrow."

"When was this decided?"

"A few hours ago. Iordor is making the arrangements."

"I am saddened to hear it."

Thranduil was surprised by the earnestness of Amroth's tone. "Why is that?" he asked.

"I will miss having an ellon around who does not treat me like a king."

Thranduil was surprised to find he shared the feeling wholeheartedly. "As will I."

Amroth jerked his chin in the direction of the dance floor. "At least I will have Caladhel's company for the time being," he said. "Has she given you an answer?"

"Not yet," Thranduil replied, "but I believe she will agree to visit Greenwood for the Starlight Feast."

Amroth laughed and shook his head. "You must be more charming with her than I imagine."

Thranduil was unsure what to think of Amroth's jest, particularly in light of his earlier threat. "Are you going to be a problem?"

"Me?" Amroth replied in the most innocent of voices. He caught sight of Caladhel across the room. Her eyes were bright and her laughter rang throughout the hall. "You know, my father wanted me to marry her. He harped on the subject for many years, until at last he accepted my heart belonged to another."

Thranduil was, in truth, surprised by this particular revelation. "I would have thought Celebrían to be your father's choice, given her parentage."

Amroth shook his head. "My father loved Celebrían, but he knew we were not well suited."

"And he thought you and Caladhel were?"

"He never said it quite that way."

"How did he say it?"

Amroth leaned in to Thranduil's ear as if to share some great secret. "He said an arrogant ellon needs an elleth who will tell him what he does not want to hear." He drew back, before adding, "She is good at that, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed," Thranduil replied, "but you have not answered my question."

Amroth merely shrugged. "I have always trusted Caladhel's wisdom. I see no reason not to do so now."

Thranduil was momentarily stunned by Amroth's answer, which could mean only one thing. "So your threat to imprison her in Lórien was nothing more than words?"

Amroth sensed Thranduil's rising irritation but chose to ignore it. "Not quite," he replied. "I told Caladhel the day before we spoke that I would be rooting for your success. Did you not find my challenge sufficiently motivating?"

Thranduil was struck by a sudden urge to grab Amroth by the throat and strangle him. Sensing the impeding danger, Amroth took hold of Thranduil's arm in a vice-like grip.

"Come now," he said. "Have a drink with me. I promise to keep you entertained, and you can take this opportunity to insult my wine again before you leave."

Thranduil's irritation faded in the face of Amroth's good-natured offer. Defeated, he allowed Lórien's king to lead him away. He glanced one last time across the room to where Caladhel now sat with her cousin. Their eyes met and she smiled at him briefly before Celebrían drew her attention away. It was only a moment's connection but it was enough to assure him their conversation could wait one more day.