Chapter 26: Silvan Spirit

It was late when a knock sounded on Caladhel's door. She had been enjoying the view from the terrace and was not expecting any company before bed. She rose, curious to know who would call upon her so late, but the face in the hall when she opened the door was no surprise once revealed.

"Uncle."

"May I come in?"

"Of course." Caladhel stepped aside to permit him entry. She thought he looked weary and wondered if he had only now escaped Thranduil's counselors. She had assumed their meeting was adjourned, having met Thranduil in the great hall an hour earlier. She had not thought to ask after her uncle during their conversation.

"I wished to be sure you are settled before I retire," said Celeborn. "I would have come by earlier, but a few of Thranduil's counselors wished to speak with me privately after we adjourned."

Caladhel had expected as much. She was also curious to know the purpose of their meeting. "I found their insistence on meeting with you tonight strange, so soon after our arrival." She took a seat on the sofa but her uncle did not join her immediately. His gaze passed over his niece's room, noting the high ceiling and the terrace view.

"Your rooms are nicer than mine," he said.

"They belonged to Thranduil's mother."

"Ah."

Celeborn did not appear surprised by the revelation. He sat himself in an elegant chair set beside the sofa. The weariness Caladhel noted earlier was more apparent when he sat, with legs outstretched and head tipped back against the headrest. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply once before turning his attention to his niece.

"The furniture is comfortable," he said.

Caladhel could not help but laugh, for she knew the chairs in council chambers were often uncomfortable, sometimes purposefully so. There was nothing uncomfortable in the queen's chambers, except, perhaps, for Caladhel. "Did you know Queen Naerwen well?" she asked, for she knew very little about the Lady whose room she now occupied.

"I am afraid not," he replied. "The last time I saw her was in Doriath, two ages past. She was not a queen then."

"What do you remember of her?"

Celeborn closed his eyes again briefly, drawing forth what memories he possessed of his cousin's wife. "She was a sweet elleth, soft spoken, with golden hair and pale blue eyes. Delicate is how I would describe her."

"She does not sound much like her son, but for his eyes."

"No. Nor was she much like Oropher, more his reflection, so to speak." Celeborn frowned then, having shared what little he remembered. "I am sorry I cannot offer you more detail. Oropher and I were not close even when we lived in the same city. After settling in Greenwood he did not travel often and this realm has never been overly welcoming of visitors, even those from the Golden Wood."

Caladhel waved away her uncle's apology. There was no need for it. She was aware of her uncle's relationship - or lack thereof - with Oropher, and it was no secret that the elves of Greenwood held little interest in the outside world. "I was merely curious," she said. "It feels strange staying in rooms belonging to someone I have never met."

Celeborn set his hand upon his niece's, a small and silent gesture of support. She thought he would say something, but the words never came. Once again she noted his tired eyes. His fatigue drew Caladhel's thoughts back to the meeting.

"For what reason did Thranduil's counselors call a meeting tonight?"

Celeborn shook his head. "I am afraid I cannot say."

"Of course," said Caladhel. She had expected the topic might well be privileged, but figured it would not hurt to ask.

"You can ask Thranduil," he said. "He might tell you."

Caladhel balked at her uncle's suggestion. She did not think it the best way to make peace with Lord Túven. "I doubt his uncle would be pleased if he did."

"Probably not."

Caladhel dreaded the eventual confrontation with Túven, for she was not fool enough to believe all was right between them. For the moment, she had other matters on her mind. "Greenwood's harvest festival begins tomorrow. The blessing will be given an hour after dawn."

"I was informed."

Caladhel feared what her uncle would think of Thranduil's invitation, but it was not something she could keep from him. "I spoke with Thranduil earlier tonight. He told me he will work the harvest."

"Is that so?" Celeborn mouth curled in amusement, and he did not sound surprised.

"He asked me to join him."

This did surprise Celeborn, and he sat up straighter in his seat before he spoke next. "And your answer?"

"I said I would."

A flurry of emotions passed over her uncle's face, but he mastered each one in rapid succession. They vanished so quickly Caladhel was unable to name them. "Do you think it improper?" she asked.

The lines on Celeborn's brow deepened a measure, but he shook his head. "No," he replied. "I think it Silvan."

"We will be gone from the palace a few days… with your permission, of course."

The trouble-lines faded slowly from Celeborn's face. "You do not require my permission," he said, "but if it is your wish to go, then you have my blessing."

Celeborn rose from his seat, and leaned down to set a kiss upon his niece's forehead. "Be sure to take your sword and bow."

Caladhel nodded at his suggestion, one she considered both fatherly and strange. He knew she never traveled without both her sword and bow, excluding her previous escape attempt.

"I will leave you to your rest then," he said. "You will need a good night's sleep for tomorrow."

Caladhel rose to escort her uncle to the door. "Good night," she said as he departed. Alone once more, Caladhel pulled out one of her small travel bags and began to pack.


Caladhel donned a fine gown for the harvest blessing and found herself wildly overdressed. Not compared to the court – the lords and ladies of Greenwood assembled in their usual finery. It was Thranduil who dressed simply, in the clothes she suspected he would wear when they rode out. The ceremony was simple, too. An offering was made: a bushel of wheat, a basket of fruit, a glass of wine. Yavanna was invoked in the prayer, whom Thranduil named Ivann in the Sindarin tongue. It was over in ten minutes, all told, and afterward Caladhel hurried back to her quarters to change.

She emerged from Limrond twenty minutes later dressed in a simple tunic and leggings, clothing normally reserved for travel and training. A great number of elves were already assembled and she hastened to join them. She was barely across the bridge when Beleth took hold of her arm.

"I cannot believe he is dragging you along with him," she grumbled, her disapproval clear in her tone.

Caladhel patted her hand sympathetically. "Thranduil warned me you would not approve."

"He knows me well enough," she huffed. "It is no place for him, toiling in the fields. But he is king, so I can argue with him all I like, though I might as well demand a tree uproot. But you?" She shook her head. "I had hoped he would show more care regarding how the court views its future queen."

Caladhel blushed lightly at Beleth's last descriptor of her. She would not waste breath debating her future with Beleth, but as for the present… "I did not think you one to be so concerned with propriety, given the little rebellion you staged on my behalf."

"That was for Thranduil's own good," Beleth said. "And besides, this is a different matter entirely. Thranduil is a king. He toils night and day so that his people can live free beneath the trees. The sacrifices he makes ensure that the poets can write, and the minstrels can sing and the farmers can sow their crops in peace. He should not be called upon to do their work for them. He already does so much."

Caladhel understood the source of Beleth's frustration, but she suspected it misplaced. "I do not think Thranduil views the harvest as an added burden."

"I don't know what he thinks! If you find out, do tell me."

Caladhel smiled at Beleth, but she made the Lady no promises. A moment later they were joined by the ellon of whom they spoke.

Thranduil greeted his aunt first, for he noted the daggers in her eyes. "Beleth," he said.

"Thranduil." Beleth shook her head one last time and breathed an overly dramatic sigh. "Do take care of her," she said, and she kissed Caladhel on the cheek before departing.

Caladhel followed the Lady's path back to the palace. "She is displeased," Caladhel said.

"Unsurprising."

Thranduil paid no further heed to his aunt. His focus was on Caladhel and the journey ahead. He took up her bag and slung it over his shoulder. "I have our assignment."

"Where are we headed?"

"To one of our farms in the east, near to where the Ereduin meets the Celduin."

"So far?" Caladhel did not know the precise distance, but her previous study of Greenwood's maps suggested it would take two days to reach the Celduin, and that was only with the aid of horses or deer.

"It is a full day's and night's journey," said Thranduil, confirming Caladhel's suspicion. "The region has excellent soil, but it is near our border. The harvest overseer does his best to assign wardens and those well-trained in arms to the farms further afield."

"That is wise."

"Are you ready to depart?"

"I believe so," Caladhel replied.

"Then let us be off."


The king's company arrived at their destination early the following morning. They traveled through the night, stopping only briefly for food and rest. When the deer tired along the way, the wardens would call upon others to relieve them. Caladhel rode five different animals before arriving at their destination. She found it strange, abandoning one deer for another, but she suspected the tired deer did not mind being exchanged for fresh mounts.

The elves who rode with her and Thranduil were mostly wardens stationed at the palace and those few they picked up along the way. Caladhel thought their number great, close to two hundred, at least, but there were easily three times the number of elves assembled at the farm when they arrived and the foreman was already assigning tasks when they dismounted.

Caladhel waited alone beneath a tall oak tree while Thranduil went to speak with the foreman. Her gaze passed over the fields and people as she silently took in the sights and sounds all around her. There were more children at the gathering than Caladhel expected, given the farm's proximity to the border. She suspected they belonged to local families who lived nearby. The children ran free while the adults divided into small groups awaiting assignment. They laughed and chatted together in the Silvan tongue. It was a language Caladhel knew well, though over time it had fallen out of use in Lórien as more and more Sindar and Noldor settled there. It was a stark reminder of how different Greenwood was from her home, and it made her feel somewhat out of place among its people.

Thranduil returned to her side a few minutes later wearing a red band on his arm and she greeted him with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

"Come," he said. "I want to introduce you to someone."

Caladhel followed him in the direction of the foreman's tent, but they did not make it that far. They stopped upon reaching an elleth who, like Thranduil, wore a red band on her arm. She was shorter than Caladhel by a hand, with dark auburn hair and brown eyes.

"Lady Caladhel, this is Roewen," said Thranduil. "Roewen is a warden of Greenwood. When I became king, she took over my position as the edged weapon instructor for our newest recruits. She was also one of my first students."

"And his finest," Roewen added. "He always forgets that part."

"I forget nothing," Thranduil replied.

Caladhel flinched at Thranduil's sharp rebuke, but Roewen merely smiled at her king. Caladhel was surprised by the warden's reaction, it suggested an air of friendship between them, which Caladhel suspected extended far into the past. She was given no time to inquire on the matter.

"The Lady has never worked a harvest before," Thranduil said. "Do you mind apprenticing her today?"

Roewen's gaze flitted briefly to Caladhel's face before returning to her king. This time she bowed her head and set her hand upon her heart. "It would be an honor, my lord."

Thranduil nodded his thanks before turning to Caladhel. "I will come find you later."

"She is in good hands," Roewen said.

Thranduil returned his attention briefly to the warden. He nodded to her, and after, set a hand on Caladhel's arm. He smiled and gave her arm a gentle squeeze before he departed. Caladhel watched him head out across the field to a group of ellyn also marked with red bands.

"Come, my lady," Roewen said.

Caladhel followed the warden towards the far end of the field where more tents had been erected and an incredible number of empty baskets were laid. She could not imagine how long it would take to fill them or how many hands it would take to complete the task. Caladhel had only two, but she hoped they would be of some use in the coming days.

With that thought, Caladhel's attention returned to the warden. It felt utterly absurd for Roewen to address her so formally when they would be working together for the next few days. "If we are going to be working side-by-side," said Caladhel, "I think it right you address me by my name."

A bark of laughter burst forth from Roewen, surprising Caladhel with its mirth. "Like him, are you?"

"What do you mean?" Caladhel asked, confused both by the elleth's question and her obvious amusement.

"He hates titles, our king," Roewen said. "He would have us call him by his name, if his kin did not think it so terribly improper. The Sindar are strange that way."

Caladhel was surprised by Roewen's declaration but the feeling did not linger, for she soon recalled her conversation with Thranduil regarding his title. She had thought it odd that a king should want to be addressed so informally, but had reluctantly agreed to drop his title in private. His request was not entirely improper given her status and his desire to court her, but it was another matter entirely for the common citizens of Greenwood to address him by name. Caladhel was certain Beleth would not approve and that Túven would be livid. Caladhel understood their concerns regarding royal tradition, but she sympathized with Thranduil also, and his want not to be held at a distance.

"It is the same with the Noldor," Caladhel said offhand.

"You are both kindreds by blood, are you not?" Roewen asked.

"Yes," Caladhel replied a bit uneasily.

"But a Silvan elf in spirit, perhaps?"

It was Caladhel's turn to laugh. "We shall see."

"You have proven so to many already."

"And how is that?"

"You turned Taurhîn against our king."

Caladhel stopped dead in her tracks. She felt as one struck hard in the chest, short of breath. "You know about that?"

Roewen, realizing the Lady was no longer at her side, turned around. "Everyone knows," she said with her previous air of good humor. "The deer would not let us ride them. Those who tried were cast into the dirt. I have never seen fear in the eyes of so many brave warriors as I did that day."

Caladhel failed to note the warden's amusement, mortified as she was by Roewen's words. "I am so sorry," she said. "It was not my intent to hurt your people."

"Only to escape our king."

With those words, Caladhel looked away towards Thranduil, but she said nothing in reply.

Roewen came to Caladhel's side and followed the Lady's gaze to her king. "He has snared you again, it would seem," she said, in a vain attempt to lighten the conversation.

"He is trying," said Caladhel. Despite Roewen's attempt at humor, Caladhel's distress had not diminished. She turned her attention back to the warden, who studied her expression now with concern. "Were your people very upset with me afterward?"

"With you?" Roewen frowned and shook her head. "There were a few elves who were upset for a time, but I do not recall anyone being upset with you – only with our king."

"With Thranduil? Why?"

"Taurhîn would not have taken your side against us, if he had not made some grave mistake."

Caladhel expression went from worried to pained, stricken by guilt for her actions.

"What is wrong?" Roewen asked, noting the Lady's pained expression.

"I never thought my actions would cause discontent between Thranduil and his people."

Roewen laughed lightly and shook her head. "You worry too much," she said.

"What?"

Roewen took Caladhel by her arm, guiding the Lady gently forward alongside her. "Our king is still young," Roewen said, "and new to the throne. He made a mistake – and he fixed it."

"And that is all?" Caladhel asked.

"That is all," Roewen replied.

Caladhel scarcely believed an offence against Greenwood's people as great as hers could be dismissed so easily. It was beyond imagining, but a great relief, too, for despite Thranduil's feelings for her, Caladhel could not imagine him courting a lady whom his people despised.

"I think I should like being a Silvan elf," said Caladhel.

Roewen laughed at the Lady's words. She gestured towards the tents and the many empty baskets stacked beneath them. "You might feel differently in a few days."