Chapter 31: Distrust

No sooner had Caladhel dismissed Daerel for the evening, then a knock sounded on her door. She was not surprised to find Celeborn awaiting her.

"Uncle. Come in."

Celeborn stepped inside. His eyes swept the room for signs of company but he spied only a tray of tea with two cups. One full. One empty. "Is the King with you?"

"No. He left a few minutes ago to speak with his uncle."

Celeborn nodded and gestured towards the parlor. "Come sit with me."

Caladhel did as she was bid. She took a seat on the sofa beside her uncle and offered him tea. He declined the drink courteously. His mood was such that it would require something stronger to set him at ease. He spoke directly, for he saw no advantage in delaying his purpose for seeking out his niece.

"I spoke with Iordor. We will depart at first light."

"I suspected he would not wish to delay," Caladhel replied.

"I would prefer it if you returned to Lórien with me."

Celeborn spoke these words without emotion, but Caladhel read in his eyes an intensity she had not seen for a long time. Not since he last voiced his disapproval of Elrond to Celebrían. This was not a turn Caladhel had expected, and she was left startled and unsure by her uncle's request – one he had carefully balanced between wish and command.

"Why?" Caladhel was near certain she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear her uncle speak, if only so she had the opportunity to counter him.

"Greenwood is not safe," he replied, "and Thranduil…" Celeborn paused, causing Caladhel to wonder if he knew not how to express his thoughts on Greenwood's king or if he feared her response should he do so freely. "I fear Thranduil does not think clearly where you are concerned. He allowed his heart to cloud his judgment when he chose not to order you back to the palace."

Caladhel was surprised by her uncle's conclusion. He was not often mistaken when judging other ellon's motives. "You are wrong about his heart," she said.

"Am I?"

"Yes. His heart ordered me home when the horn sounded. It would have seen me safe, far from danger. It was his mind that accepted my offer of aid. He could not reasonably deny he needed more archers."

"You are not one of his warriors, to be called upon at his will." Celeborn's anger was clear in his words and the harshness with which he spoke them.

Caladhel did her best not to allow her own frustration to rise in answer to his. "I know that," she said, evenly, "but neither were many of the elves who defended the farm."

"They were defending their homes."

"So they were, and I chose to help them." Caladhel reached out her hand and set it on her uncle's arm, hoping to bridge the gap between them. "Thranduil did not allow me to remain by his side out of weakness," she said, "but you are not angry with him for being weak."

There was a flash of surprise in Celeborn's eyes, brief and fleeting, before they returned to their former state. Caladhel wondered if he understood the true cause of his anger, or if he had unwittingly mistaken its source.

"I am angry he did not put your safety first," he said.

"And what kind of king would he be, if he had?" Caladhel let the question linger in the air. She knew her uncle had no answer, or, if he did, he refused to tell. "I killed seven orcs from the shelter of the trees," she added. "They were hunting the wounded. How many more lives would Greenwood have lost had I not been there to stop them?"

Caladhel was certain she read annoyance in her uncle's expression but it vanished quickly. She knew he cared for her well being. But she knew, also, that he would not put her life, nor anyone else's, above the safety of all Lothlórien. He could not expect Thranduil to do otherwise.

"There are times I wish you were less sensible," said Celeborn.

"There are times I have wished that, too."

Celeborn reached out and his fingers alighted on his niece's face, drawing her gaze. He studied her eyes – the windows to her soul – with regret. "Even when you were young, your eyes were wise, thoughtful, but long have they remained the eyes of a child. No longer. You have witnessed such things that cannot be unseen, nor banished from memory. I do not know if I will ever forgive him for that."

Caladhel lifted her hand to cradle her uncle's. "The choice to remain at the border was mine. If you wish to be angry with someone, be angry with me."

Celeborn shook his head and his hand fell away. "You know that is impossible."

"My father did not find it too difficult a task," she replied, "though now I think I understand why."

"How is that?"

Caladhel peered down at her fingers, recalling the sight of them stained with blood. "Our lives are so fragile. I never realized. I understand now why he hated my learning the sword, why he refused me more instruction than was required. He feared I would use that knowledge beyond my own defense. He feared I would put myself in danger." The fear behind her father's anger was so clear to Caladhel now. How had she failed to see it? She thought of her father, and their many arguments, and the one they would have now if he stood before her. "He would be so terribly angry with me now, if he learned of these last few days."

"Your father loved you more than anything in this world," said Celeborn. "I know it did not always feel that way. Lostechil had the unfortunate habit of masking fear with anger. You were a willful child, and he feared for you greatly."

"If his fear was so great, why did he agree to my staying behind?"

"I would not choose the word agree to describe his decision. My sister did not challenge your father's will often, but in that one matter, she stood her ground. She wanted you with her in Valinor, but she would not allow anyone to make the choice for you, not even your father. That Galadriel and I swore to watch over you was some comfort to him, and after much pressure from your mother, he relented."

Caladhel was forever grateful for her aunt and uncle's support. She was certain her father would not have allowed her to remain in Middle-earth if not for their promise. She took hold of her uncle's hand again. "I cherished your support then," said Caladhel, "as I do now."

Celeborn was wise enough to read his niece's will in those words. "I take that to mean you will not be returning with me."

"I came for the Starlight Feast," she said.

"No," he replied, "you didn't."

Caladhel was confused momentarily by her uncle's rebuttal. She blushed once she gathered his meaning and her gaze fell away to her lap.

Celeborn had never known his niece to be shy about anything, but then, she had only ever allowed her head to steer her path. He sighed, defeated by the knowledge that her heart was already lost.

"He had better take good care of you while I am away."


Túven was not in his study when Thranduil came calling, so he sought his uncle instead at his apartment. He knocked loudly on the door and a minute later it opened, revealing his aunt's face. He greeted her with a nod.

"Good evening, Beleth. Is Túven here?"

"I do believe I heard him grumbling." She ushered him through the door and into the parlor. "Túven!" she called. "The King is here to see you." She nodded her farewell to Thranduil, and before he thought to dismiss her, she slipped out the door.

Túven entered the room from his private chamber. "My king," said Túven in greeting, though there was little reverence in his tone.

"Uncle," Thranduil replied. "I thought I would find you in your study."

"Whatever for?"

"Have you no wish to discuss tonight's council meeting?"

"I don't see the point. The decision has been made."

"And you are bitter the council did not side with you."

Anger flared brightly in Túven's eyes, before he regained control of his emotions. "Forgive me if I dislike being ambushed," he replied.

"Is that what you think happened tonight?"

"You brought Iauron here to undermine me. And that elleth…"

"Caladhel did not utter a word the entire evening."

"What need had she to speak, when her uncle spoke for her? He and Iordor."

Thranduil was weary of Túven's tangents, of his determination to ignore the salient point. "My father's fortress has become a danger to our realm, as well as to Lórien. I do not see why you oppose enlisting the Galadhrim's aid to eliminate the threat. It will be safer for all involved if the hill is sieged from two directions."

"And have you given any thought to what might happen after?"

"After? I do not take your meaning."

"Of course you don't," Túven snapped.

"If there is some concern you failed to voice during the council," said Thranduil, "speak now or speak no further."

Túven did not answer at once. Instead he approached his nephew one slow step at a time. He was not quite so tall as Thranduil, but in the child's mind he was, as ever, a formidable opponent. "What happens if we welcome Lórien's army into our lands, and they turn upon us?"

Thranduil was disarmed by his uncle's question, for he had not seen it coming. "Why would they do that?"

"The Noldor have wished us vanquished since they sacked Doriath."

Thranduil was still not following his uncle's reasoning. "Barely a quarter of the Galadhrim are of Noldorin descent."

"And who do you think holds the power in Lórien?" Túven asked. "The Silvan elves? Amroth? He is Galadriel's puppet. I would not see her make one of you as well."

"And how do you imagine she will accomplish that?"

"The same way she did Celeborn. Do you not see? She sent that niece of hers here to ensnare you. Caladhel will bring us to ruin, as Galadriel did Doriath."

Thranduil remained silent a long time following his uncle's declaration. It was clear to him that Túven believed every word he spoke. It chilled him to think that not a year ago, this argument might have persuaded him. No longer. He understood Amroth better now than he had in the past, and Caladhel…

"Do you hear yourself?" said Thranduil. "You sound mad."

"Do I?" Túven stepped closer to his nephew, closer than any other would dare. "Another King of the Sindar said the same to me once, before the Fëanorions destroyed our city. Be grateful your father listened to me that day, or you, too, might have been abandoned in the forest to die."

Túven withdrew then, leaving Thranduil pinned between shame and anger. He had only a dim memory of the days leading up to the destruction of Doriath, for he was far too young to understand the approaching threat. One memory shone clear, of he and Brandil parting with Eluréd and Elurín. Thranduil never saw his cousins again, and many years passed before he learned what fate befell them. He shuddered at the thought of those small children freezing to death in the snow, and at the terrible knowledge, that had Túven not intervened, he may well have died with them.

Thranduil was grateful to his uncle for convincing Oropher of what so many others refused to accept. But he did not think Túven saw now with the same clarity. His vision was clouded by the shadows of the past and the pain he bore with their memory.

"I do not question the wisdom and foresight you showed on that day," said Thranduil. "I question it now, in the matter before us."

"You question it because of that elleth. She has the blood of murderers in her veins!"

"She has the blood of the slain, too, in equal measure. Or do you choose to forget that?"

"Celeborn and his kin chose to align themselves with the Noldor. They forfeited any claim of kinship they had with us long ago."

Thranduil bit back a retort. He knew continuing this argument would do no good. Túven's mind was set and his current mood blinded him to any argument. He would not win his uncle's support in this matter, not yet. "Amon Lanc must be dealt with," said Thranduil, "regardless of any potential plot or deception by the Galadhrim. Our people are not safe and I must see to it they are made so."

Túven turned away, shaking his head.

"Look at me," said Thranduil, and he waited to speak until his uncle or counselor obeyed his command. One of them did so, though which, Thranduil could only guess. "If I believed Amroth would betray me, as you fear, I would not allow him or any of his warriors to set foot in this land. I do not believe him capable of such treachery, and you have no evidence to convince me otherwise."

"And if I am right?" Túven pressed.

"If you are right," said Thranduil, "then I will protect my people, as I always have."


Caladhel wandered the great hall while waiting to farewell her uncle. Her gaze fell upon the throne and she studied it again as she had the day she first arrived, finding it as much a mystery now as she did when she first beheld it. At the time, she had wondered if the height of the dais was a reflection of Oropher or his son. She found it strange that the throne suited Thranduil well, and not at all, and both at the same time.

She was staring at the throne, pondering Greenwood's king, and so she did not note Túven's presence before he spoke.

"Was this your aunt's plan all along? To rule Greenwood through your will?"

Caladhel nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun around to find Lord Túven glowering down at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You play the innocent well," Túven sneered. "I will hand you that."

Caladhel, unnerved by Túven's accusations, feared to speak. She attempted a retreat, but was thwarted when the Lord's hand clamped down on her arm, preventing her escape. He pulled her toward him, and leaned in close.

"The spell you cast on Thranduil is strong," he said, "but I will see it broken."

"Unhand her!" a voice roared from the door.

Túven released his hold on Caladhel and a moment later Lord Iordor stood between them. He had his full attention on Túven, for at the moment he did not trust the Lord enough to avert his gaze. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I should not be surprised to find you defending her. Has she promised you the power you crave?"

Iordor's anger rose at the insult, but his voice never wavered. "I suggest you master yourself, Túven, before you speak words you will come to regret."

"My only regret is that I did not send her back to Lórien on the very day she came." Túven turned on his heels and strode out the door without so much as a glance behind him.

Iordor watched Túven depart and did not turn around until the echo of his boots faded down the hall. He had never seen Túven so out of control. It was unnerving. When he was certain Túven was gone Iordor turned his attention to Caladhel. He reached out to examine her arm. "Did he hurt you?" he asked.

Caladhel shook her head and released an unsteady breath she had not been aware she was holding. "He thinks I seek to replace him in Thranduil's council."

"That ship has sailed," said Iordor. And when Caladhel turned curious eyes upon him, he added, "You have already replaced him. It is no longer Túven's approval Thranduil craves."

"It was never my intent to come between Thranduil and his uncle," said Caladhel, "or his counselor."

"It might be best for both the King and the realm if you did."

Caladhel was surprised Iordor would say so. She was well aware that he and Túven were not friends, but she did not imagine their enmity ran so deep.

Sensing her confusion, Iordor endeavored to more thoroughly explain his opinion. "Túven and I disagree on many things, but in ages past, disagreement was not accounted a betrayal. But ever since the war…" Iordor shook his head in frustration. "Túven now sees the world as he sees it, and he will not have anyone speak otherwise, nor counsel Thranduil differently. He was not always like this."

"So Beleth has told me."

Iordor might have said more, but Celeborn arrived at that moment.

"Caladhel."

"Uncle. I pray you reach Lothlórien swiftly."

"With any luck, we will return before the next full moon."

"I won't hold my breath. I know how quarrelsome Amroth's counselors can be."

"Amroth, himself, will not take much convincing. He will want to see Greenwood safe, for more reasons than one. The others will likely require a stronger hand."

"My King," said Iordor, noting Thranduil's arrival.

"Lord Iordor," said Thranduil, "I wish you and Lord Celeborn a swift journey and success in your task."

"Thank you, my lord," said Iordor.

"May I have a private word with the King, before we depart?" Celeborn asked.

"Of course," said Thranduil. They excused themselves and retreated far enough to not be overheard by Caladhel or Iordor.

Celeborn remained silent for a time, too long for Thranduil's liking. "You wish to say something to me. So say it."

Celeborn noted how Thranduil's shoulders stiffened, as if in anticipation of a blow. It would not be as painful as he imagined, or as Celeborn had hoped. "Back in Lórien, I told you if ever the day came that you won Caladhel's heart, you would find me no great obstacle. I am finding it more difficult than expected to keep my word. I do not choose to leave Caladhel here under your protection. She has chosen to stay, and I have chosen to respect her wishes."

"I understand," said Thranduil.

"Do you? Five days ago, she was yet a child."

"I know," said Thranduil. "It never occurred to me that an elleth possessed of the skill and courage to flee my castle alone could be so innocent. Had I known, I would have preserved that innocence forever, even if it meant dragging her back to Limrond myself. But I cannot undo the past."

"I know that," said Celeborn.

"Then what would you have me do to make amends?"

"There is nothing you can do." It was what made this loss so painful. There was no way to make it right. Celeborn's gaze wandered across the hall. Caladhel was watching them close, reading their conversation in their stance and expression. "Take care of her while I am away."

"I will," Thranduil said, though his promise felt hollow even to him.

The King and Caladhel escorted the lords to the palace gate and across the bridge. They watched them disappear down the path into the wood. When Celeborn and Iordor were out of sight, Caladhel turned her attention to Thranduil.

"What did he say to you?" she asked.

"He said he does not trust me to protect you."

"I am sorry. I told him it was my decision."

"I had the power to send you away. That is all that matters to him, as well it should. Though I wonder at the strength of his anger. I did not think it feigned."

"What do you mean?"

Thranduil was not sure exactly what he meant. He was torn by conflicting emotions, towards both himself and Celeborn. "I do not know whether to think him honorable or weak for accepting your will to remain behind. If you were my child, I would not have left you here with me."

"Then I suppose we are lucky he is not you."

Thranduil laughed lightly at her jest, though his humor was short-lived. His gaze fell upon the trees. His soul yearned for the freedom of the forest. "I need to get out of here," he said.

There was a strange desperation in Thranduil's voice. Caladhel was instantly reminded of her conversation with Iauron, when he spoke of the palace being Thranduil's prison. "Do you wish to go for a walk?"

"No," he replied, "farther than that. I would show you my favorite waterfall, if you will join me."

"Of course," she replied, and glanced down at her gown. "I must change into something more appropriate first."

Thranduil nodded. "I will meet you back here in half an hour."


A/N: A brief summary of relevant Silmarillion events to put Túven's paranoia into context: The Noldor lived for thousands of years in Valinor before returning to Middle-earth. They returned at King Fëanor's urging to escape 'the oppression' of the Valar and to reclaim the jewels (Silmarils) Fëanor made, which were stolen by the Vala Morgoth. Fëanor and his sons swore an oath to reclaim the Silmarils by any means necessary from anyone who would withhold a jewel from them or try to stop them. Some of the Noldor, led by Fëanor, attacked the elves of Alqualondë (First Kinslaying) when they refused to hand over their ships so the Noldor could cross the sea back to ME. Upon reaching ME, they then proceeded to lie to the Sindar about the particulars of their leaving Valinor since the Sindar and the elves of Alqualondë were originally the same people and the Noldor were unlikely to obtain the Sindar's aid if they learned what the Noldor had done.

Fast forward ~500 years: Lúthien and Beren steal a Silmaril from Morgoth as the price King Thingol of Doriath sets for a mortal to marry his daughter. Thingol, Beren and Lúthien eventually die and the Silmaril is passed to their son Dior who becomes King of Doriath. The sons of Fëanor learn Dior has a Silmaril. They ask him to give it back. He refuses because of all the trials his parents suffered to win it. The sons of Fëanor attack Doriath and kill Dior, his wife and many others (Second Kinslaying). Three of the sons of Fëanor are killed as well, and the servants of Celegorm, angered by their lord's death, abandon Dior's young sons to die in the wilderness. Dior's daughter Elwing (Elrond's mom) escapes with the Silmaril to Sirion. Doriath is completely destroyed. Thirty years later the remaining sons of Fëanor attack Sirion to reclaim the Silmaril (Third Kinslaying) but it is lost when Elwing casts herself into the sea while wearing the jewel.

Fëanor was Galadriel's uncle. She was not a supporter of his oath and the pair were described by Tolkien as being 'unfriends.' She did follow him into exile from Valinor along with her brothers, her uncle Fingolfin and his children. Galadriel's father remained in Valinor as King of the Noldor in Valinor. Galadriel's mother was the niece of King Thingol – whose brother was the King of Alqualondë.

While Túven directs all his hatred of the Noldor onto Galadriel, technically speaking she is ¼ Noldor, ¼ Vanyar and ½ Falmari (the Sindar across the sea), making her a cousin of Thranduil as well. This is common knowledge to all the characters in this tale. Galadriel and her brothers were the only Noldor that Thingol allowed in his kingdom for the express reason that they were his brother's grandchildren. Of her siblings, Galadriel spent the most time in Doriath during the first age prior to its destruction, where she met and married Celeborn. It is entirely reasonable, from Túven's perspective, that Galadriel acted as her family's spy in Doriath during those years and betrayed Menegroth's secrets to her cousins prior to their attack. It is, however, unlikely Galadriel aided her cousins given that she did not support Fëanor's oath and that the people of Alqualondë and Doriath were her blood kin as well. It is possible that over the years she (or her brothers) let details about the fortress unintentionally slip, but that isn't really in keeping with her character. Tolkien says nothing about Galadriel's involvement in these events. He makes no mention of where she and Celeborn were when Doriath was attacked, but it is possible they had already departed after Thingol's death four years earlier, which would add to Túven's suspicion that she knew an attack was imminent or had a hand in its planning.

And I swear that's the abbreviated version of events.

Also:

Lostechil (lost-eck-eel): Empty Follower (in Tolkienesque reference to his lack of belief in the reasons the Noldor fled Valinor, aside from following those he loved)