Chapter 33: Stars, Crossed

Haldor was already at the archery field when Caladhel, Faentôr and Roewen arrived. He greeted Caladhel with a bow and his fellow wardens with a nod of his head. He had prepared the game that would determine who would be head judge. It was a simple game of elimination and Roewen would do the honors of firing off the targets. Caladhel offered to stand aside and allow Haldor and Faentôr to compete for the title, but they would not hear of it.

"The best of us should stand as head judge," said Faentôr. "It is only fair to the competitors."

Caladhel felt it would be inconsiderate to argue the point further. She took up the bow and quiver Haldor prepared for her while Roewen retreated to the far end of the field to loose the targets.

The three judges stepped up to the line Haldor had marked on the ground. They would shoot from left to right, with Caladhel shooting first then Haldor and Faentôr.

Roewen signaled the archers that the game had begun. She loosed a target and Caladhel shot it easily out from the sky.

"I am feeling suddenly nostalgic," Haldor quipped, "except you did hit the target that time."

Caladhel laughed at the warden's jest and the memory of their last archery practice together.

Haldor hit his target, and so did Faentôr. So the turn came round again, only the speed of the targets increased a measure.

"Are you excited for the feast, my lady?" asked Faentôr.

"I am. And you?"

"I, too," he said upon hitting his latest target.

"And what of you, Haldor?" Caladhel asked.

Haldor struck his target, but barely, and Faentôr answered for him. "I suspect Haldor's answer will depend on whether a certain elleth chooses to appear."

"Do I know her?" Caladhel asked.

Haldor shook his head. "Ithilwen lives near the eastern border with her kin."

"How did you meet?"

"Her family supplies food to the local guard post."

"Ah. And you invited her to Limrond for the festival?"

"Yes."

Caladhel thought it a bit late not to know whether a guest was coming. The festival opened with the tournament the following morning. "Has she not told you whether she will come?"

"She said she would, if her parents allowed it."

"Have they a reason to withhold permission?"

When Haldor failed to answer immediately, Faentôr, again, took the liberty to interject. "Her father is not fond of the idea of his daughter being courted by a lord."

Haldor's arrow went wide, missing its target by a hand, eliminating him from the competition.

"I am not a lord," said Haldor. "My father is."

Caladhel was not deaf to the bitterness in Haldor's tone, but she could not be sure of its cause – whether it be his missed target, the elleth's father or his position in Thranduil's court. Caladhel had noted previously that Haldor was not called lord, but had not thought it appropriate to inquire on the matter before now.

"Does your father's title not extend to you?" she asked.

"My mother is Silvan. As such, the King must bestow the title of lord upon me. Is that not also the case in Lórien? I noted Haldir bears not his father's title."

"Yes, it is the same in Lórien," said Caladhel after firing off another arrow. She glanced Haldor's way briefly afterward. She found his countenance not nearly as cheery as his usual self. "I do hope to meet your Ithilwen tomorrow," she said in way of comfort.

"I, too," said Haldor.

"I, three," said Faentôr. "Otherwise, this one here will be in a terrible mood and we will be unable to escape his presence until the tournament is done."

"I would not be so quick to poke fun if I were you," said Haldor.

"And what does that mean?" Caladhel asked.

"Nothing," said Faentôr, but his slightly less than perfect aim at his next target suggested otherwise.

"Nothing, indeed," Haldor scoffed. "Faentôr has been in an ill mood for an age."

"That is entirely untrue," Faentôr countered. "Do you not find me pleasant company, my lady?"

"I do."

"He is a better actor than you," said Haldor. "At least, most of the time. Provided he steers clear of the wine when a certain elleth is in sight."

"And who might that be?" Caladhel asked.

Faentôr grumbled something unintelligible in Haldor's general direction, while Haldor's eyes wandered across the field, leading Caladhel's to the elleth firing off their targets.

"Roewen?" Caladhel asked, and Faentôr very nearly missed his next target at her question.

"Pay Haldor no heed," Faentôr replied. "Roewen's heart belongs to another."

"Brandil is dead," said Haldor softly.

Caladhel thought the reverent tone with which he said so sounded almost apologetic, though whether it was Faentôr's or Brandil's forgiveness Haldor sought, she did not know.

"He may be, but his memory lingers on."

"They were not betrothed," Haldor said to Caladhel. "His father would never allow it."

"It matters not," Faentôr said.

Haldor shook his head. "You are too noble. I would not permit a ghost to bar my path."

Faentôr made no answer, instead he turned to Caladhel and said, "Well, at least one of us is guaranteed a joyous day tomorrow."

But at his statement Caladhel's brow furrowed and the target she aimed for was nearly missed.

"My lady?"

"It is nothing," said Caladhel.

"We would require a more forceful delivery to convince us of that," Haldor said.

Caladhel hesitated to share her worries with the ellyn at her side. She did not like it when others gossiped, and she had no wish to be a source of such for Greenwood's court. Their concern for her, however, was clear in their eyes and Caladhel did not believe either ellon would betray her confidence. She also suspected both had long experience dealing with the lord who plagued her thoughts.

"Lord Túven is not pleased by my return."

Haldor snorted. "Túven? Displeased? You don't say."

"Lord Túven disapproves of you? Now there is a fine recommendation, if ever I heard one." Faentôr shot Caladhel the widest of grins before resuming his natural good-humored expression. "In all seriousness, if the High Counselor dislikes you, you are in good company. He has no use for me – or Haldor. He hates Roewen. And he positively despises Lord Iordor, and he is the most respected of Greenwood's lords among our people."

At the mention of Haldor's father, Caladhel glanced his way. "I have noticed that Túven and your father do not often see eye to eye."

"You are too generous," said Haldor. "Túven hates my father. He has for a long time, though his disdain has become more obvious of late."

"What caused the rift between them?"

"I asked my father that very question once. He declined to answer. All I know are rumors, but I do not know how much credence to lend them."

"You need not share rumors with me," said Caladhel. "I have never had much use for them."

"You will learn of them eventually," said Faentôr. "Better from Haldor, than from someone else."

Caladhel conceded the warden was right, for it seemed he, too, had knowledge of this affair. After taking down her next target she nodded to Haldor to continue if he willed.

"There was a Lord of Doriath," said Haldor, "a friend of my father, who shared this tale with me. He has long since departed across the sea. He claimed that Túven's sister Eilian loved my father and when the Fëanorions drew near to Menegroth, she refused to flee without him. She died there, somewhere amidst the battle, while my father defended the city. Many years later my father met my mother in this wood. He loved her, but Túven thought a Silvan elleth was an unacceptable substitute for his sister. He accused my father of not returning Eilian's love and of allowing her to die during the battle so he could be free of her."

Caladhel was shocked by Haldor's tale, but not so much by Túven's dark suspicions. It seemed that was a trait he harbored for a long time now. "What does your father say to these accusations?"

"He says nothing."

Caladhel wondered if Iordor refused to acknowledge such rumors for his family's sake or for Eilian's. She did not imagine he did so for himself. "Your father is a noble ellon. I can not imagine there is any truth to Túven's accusations."

Haldor nodded his appreciation of her support. "And I would say the same to you, my lady. Do not take Lord Túven's opinion of you to heart. It means nothing to the people of Greenwood."

"And I am fairly certain it means less than nothing to our king," Faentôr added.

At his mention, Caladhel's thoughts turned to Thranduil. It was precisely the wrong moment for it threw off her aim. She missed her target wide and a few seconds later Faentôr hit his to claim victory.

"I believe that shot places me as head judge," said Faentôr. "I have a few special rules I would like to suggest. Let us discuss."


Roewen escorted Caladhel back to the palace and they chatted about the coming tournament and festival all the way to her rooms. Caladhel made no mention of her conversation with Faentôr, for she had no idea whether Roewen knew of her fellow captain's affection beyond their obvious friendship. She did not think it her place to spoil such a secret, not the least without Faentôr's consent.

Caladhel invited Roewen in to visit for a bit, but as soon as they passed the threshold Caladhel discovered her apartment was not empty. Beleth was bustling about arranging a series of gowns on the parlor chairs.

"There you are," Beleth said, but she stopped short at the sight of Caladhel's guest.

Roewen was, likewise, thrown by Caladhel's unlooked for company. She recovered quickly and affected a polite bow. "Lady Beleth."

"Roewen."

Roewen turned to Caladhel. "I must be going."

"Are you sure?" Caladhel asked.

"Yes," she replied. "I will see you in the morning. Good day, my ladies." Roewen bowed once more to Caladhel and Beleth before hurriedly departing.

Caladhel closed the door behind the warden before turning back to Beleth. The Lady wore a melancholy expression.

"I see you have met Roewen," said Beleth.

"You know her?" It was an unnecessary question, really, but Caladhel was curious to hear what Beleth would say.

"That I do."

Beleth continued to gaze at the door, though Caladhel was certain her thoughts remained fixed on the elleth who just departed.

"Do you like her?"

Beleth's gaze shifted from the door to Caladhel. The corners of her mouth curled slightly, but sadness lingered in her eyes. "Yes. Yes, I do. Though it has been quite some time since I last saw her. She does not come much to the palace, not since..."

Caladhel finished the though Beleth left hanging. "Not since Brandil passed."

Beleth sighed deeply and her gaze returned to the door. "He feigned he loved her as a friend, as a sister-in-arms, and she, too, would pretend." Beleth shook her head and seated herself on the edge of the nearest chair before meeting Caladhel's eyes again. "They were neither very talented liars."

Caladhel joined Beleth in the parlor and took a seat across from her. "I understand Túven disapproved of them."

"That is an understatement. He told our son in no uncertain terms that he would never allow him to pledge himself to one of the Silvan."

"Would Brandil have gone against his father's will?"

Beleth gave the question little thought before she shook her head. "I do not think so. He was not nearly as self-possessed as Thranduil, who I am confident would marry whomever he chose, regardless of his family's opinion on the matter."

Caladhel was sure the last part was meant solely to reassure her of Thranduil's steadfastness in the face of his uncle's protests. Her assurances were unnecessary, but Beleth's choice to raise the matter did cause Caladhel to wonder what Túven might have said to his wife.

"I am sure Túven had a few things to say regarding my return to Limrond."

Beleth's expression darkened but she shook her head. "He has said nothing to me."

"Somehow I doubt that."

Beleth held Caladhel's eyes for a long time and Caladhel thought she weighed something in her mind. Her gaze eventually fell away to her hands and she picked at her nails, an utterly foreign gesture to Caladhel's eyes, but clearly one of unease.

"Túven has not spoken to me since he learned you would return."

"He… what? For how long?"

"Two moons have passed."

"You have said nothing of this to me."

"What was there to say? It is not your concern. Do not worry yourself over the matter."

Not worrying was a distinct impossibility for Caladhel at that moment, especially in light of her earlier conversation with Thranduil. "Beleth, I…I fear I may have made things worse."

"Why do you say that?"

Caladhel drew up her sleeve to show Beleth her arm. The Lady rose from her seat and approached to examine the injury. "What happened?"

"Túven took hold of my arm this morning when we spoke in the hall. Thranduil saw the mark. He was greatly angered by it."

Beleth stared long at the mark on Caladhel's arm. She said nothing, but a single tear fell from her eye.

"Beleth?"

"I remember a time when he was incapable of anger or suspicion or hate. Those days shall never come again. Not on this shore."

"I am so sorry," said Caladhel. "What do you think Thranduil will do?"

"I do not know, but I fear my Túven may find himself in more danger than he realizes. Thranduil has a temper like his father." Beleth sat beside Caladhel and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Oropher loved Túven like a brother, but if it were Naerwen he had harmed, that love would not have shielded him from my brother's wrath. Túven will come to regret this, one way or another."

"I wish there was something I could do to ease your husband's mind. He thinks I have cast a spell on Thranduil, that I seek to rule Greenwood through him. I do not know how to convince him otherwise."

"You can not. He is beyond reason now. I have long pretended otherwise, but no longer." She took Caladhel's hand in hers and held it fast. "Thranduil loves you. You bring his heart joy, such as he has never known. I would not change that for anything in the world."

"Not even to bring Túven peace?"

Beleth shook her head. "Even if you left Limrond today and never returned, it would not bring Túven peace." She squeezed Caladhel's hand a little tighter to emphasize her next words. "Do not allow him to trouble your thoughts tonight. Tomorrow is the Starlight Feast. You must be well rested. Come. I have laid out a few gowns I had made for the occasion. You must select one." Beleth gestured to the dresses laid out on the furniture.

In truth, Caladhel cared not which dress she wore, but for Beleth's sake she allowed the Lady to turn their conversation to the less painful subjects of linen and lace.


Caladhel did not have the best night's sleep prior to the Starlight Feast. She rose early and sat alone on her terrace listening to the sounds of the little waterfall and of the city, too, as it came to life. Daerel brought her breakfast a few hours later and aided with her gown and hair. She twittered all the while in excitement for the day. The young elleth's delight and enthusiasm proved a blessed distraction and slowly lifted Caladhel's spirits until she was equally anxious for the festival to begin.

A knock on the door drew a shriek from Daerel. "The King is here!" She hurried to the door and welcomed him with a bow.

Caladhel rose to greet him as he entered her rooms. He was quite a vision, dressed in the finest robes of black and silver brocade. He wore a crown of mithril adorned with diamonds and other gems and a dark green cape which matched the green of the dress she wore now. Caladhel suspected Beleth had informed him of her choice the previous night.

"You are a vision," said Thranduil, in echo of her thoughts.

Caladhel smiled, accepting his compliment with a nod of her head. "I would say the same of Greenwood's king."

Thranduil shook his head at her compliment, but the smile on his face spread to his eyes, lighting his soul. He held out his arm to her and she took it and together they departed.

Once in the hall Thranduil's expression paled a bit, growing more thoughtful the closer they came to the front gate. "You do not appear as light-hearted this morning as I expected," said Caladhel. "Do you worry for dancing with me tonight?"

A smile flashed across Thranduil's face at her question. "No," he replied. "It would take more than a dance to distract me today."

"What, then?"

Thranduil looked down at Caladhel with apology in his eyes, though she knew not why. His answer clarified the matter.

"This was my cousin's favorite day of the year. I wish he were here to share the feast with us."

Caladhel had not heard Thranduil speak much of his cousin and those few times he had were clearly painful for him. She thought he might wish to speak of him now and so she gave him the opportunity. "What was he like?" she asked.

Thranduil thought on her question a minute. "He was much like Amroth," he said.

Caladhel could not hold back a bark of laughter. She covered her mouth with her free hand and looked up at Thranduil with apology. "That bad?"

Thranduil nodded, for he certainly thought so. That feigned obstacle the Lórien king had set between him and Caladhel had been precisely the type of mischief Brandil would have concocted in his place.

"Brandil made it his life's purpose to keep me humble."

"Did he have much success?"

"More than I liked," Thranduil admitted. "If you think my pride terrible, I promise you, it would be immeasurably worse had he never lived. He liked to knock me in the mud when we sparred, and he always made sure others were watching when he did."

"Why?"

"So all would remember I was but flesh and blood."

Thranduil fell silent again and sadness crept into the corners of his eyes. Caladhel could only imagine how painful it must be for Thranduil to bear Brandil's loss. She suspected no one in his life had been as close to him as his cousin, and with his death the King had lost both his dearest brother and closest confidant. Caladhel wished for all the world that Thranduil and his cousin would one day be reunited.

"I would like to have known him," she said.

Thranduil set his free hand upon hers. "Perhaps you will meet him in Valinor some day."

Caladhel was surprised by Thranduil's suggestion, given the doubt he expressed the day before. She did not know what to say, but was saved from saying anything as they arrived at their destination. The guards were awaiting them, as was the court procession. Thranduil led Caladhel to the head of the train.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Caladhel breathed deep. "I think so."

Thranduil nodded to the guards and they opened the doors. Thranduil escorted Caladhel across the threshold and both King and Lady were met with sunlight and cheers.