Chapter 34: Starlight, Part 1

Caladhel was overwhelmed by the reception of the crowd. She had never been the center of attention before, not as she was now on Thranduil's arm. Such regard had always been directed at Celebrían, not the cousin who tagged along. All eyes were upon Caladhel and the King now. Lords and ladies and common elves alike cheered them as they passed. Only centuries of practice masking her true thoughts allowed Caladhel to hide her nervousness from the crowd. Her tightening grip on Thranduil's arm, however, gave her away to him. He set his free hand upon hers in a silent gesture of support as he led her down the narrow path to the archery field.

Caladhel thought the rules Faentôr set forth for the competition straightforward enough by Lórien's standards, though he did have an inordinate fondness for obstacle courses. The first few rounds were designed for elimination and focused on a single skill – distance, speed, accuracy. The final rounds combined all three, but with a series of obstacles and moving targets thrown in to simulate real world dangers.

Faentôr was currently at the far end of the field, issuing a few final instructions to the competitors, but Haldor was already in the judge's box when Caladhel and Thranduil arrived. Caladhel thought his mood brighter than when last she saw him.

"Your mood is much improved from yesterday," said Caladhel after their formal greetings were done.

"She is here," Haldor replied, his smile broadening.

"Where?"

Haldor directed Caladhel's gaze across the field. "Beside my mother. She wears brown and gold today."

Caladhel spied Amariel, and beside her, a golden-haired elleth dressed as Haldor described. The elleth noted Haldor's attention upon her and waved shyly.

"Will you introduce me after?" Caladhel asked.

"Of course."

Faentôr rejoined them from the field a moment later, greeting the King and Lady, and Haldor, as well.

"Are we ready?" Thranduil asked.

"Almost," said Faentôr. And in a jocular tone, he said to Haldor, "Now remember. No playing favorites."

"I would say the same to you," Haldor replied.

"And who are Greenwood's favorites?" Caladhel asked.

Faentôr was more than happy to enlighten her. "You will find the majority of the spectators of two minds, one favoring Elros, the other, Feren." He pointed them out to her as they readied themselves for the competition.

Caladhel recognized both ellyn as palace guards. The darker of the two, Elros, had regularly stood watch over her during her captivity. Feren she had seen a few times before in Limrond's halls.

"And whom do you favor?"

"I have no wish to sway you before the judging," said Faentôr.

"Nor I," Haldor replied.

Caladhel laughed lightly before turning to the king. Thranduil was only half-listening to their conversation, for he awaited the ready signal from the field so he could announce the start of the tournament. Caladhel set her hand on his arm to draw his attention. His eyes flitted briefly to her face and he smiled. She leaned in closer to him and kept her voice low.

"Does the King have a favorite?"

"I might."

"Did you wager?" she asked, for even now the barkers could be heard calling upon the crowd to place their bets.

"No. It would be inappropriate for me to show favor to one of the competitors over the others. I honor my people for the victories they earn, after they earn them."

"That is wise."

A flag from the field signaled the competitors were ready. Thranduil stood and when he lifted his hands the trumpets sounded.


As Caladhel expected, the youngest archers were the first to fall. By the fourth round, none younger than 1,000 remained on the field. By the fifth, only three archers remained and, as predicted, Feren and Elros faced off for the final round. A series of obstacles and moving targets were arranged, all designed by Faentôr with a few improvements added by Caladhel and Haldor the day before.

The entire competition, beginning to end, was intense, but Caladhel already knew which ellon would prove the victor. Feren was great, but Elros' mind was steadier, as was his hand. He mastered each obstacle and struck every target without a second's hesitation. Feren was slower than Elros by the slightest measure, and on the third obstacle he paused, not long, but long enough to miss his target. He completed the course without further incident, but the competition was already lost. The cheers of the spectators rose all around them, echoing Elros' name.

Faentôr looked to Haldor first, then Caladhel, to ensure none would challenge the decision. They nodded in agreement. Faentôr rose from his seat to make the final announcement.

"We, the judges, name Elros this year's champion. Step forward to receive your prize."

The crowd cheered louder upon the announcement and Caladhel watched Feren and Elros clasp hands. Elros was beaming, while Feren kept his disappointment at bay.

The King rose from his throne, and Caladhel followed him a step behind, for she had been asked to present the winner with his prize. Elros approached the King and Thranduil lifted his hands to silence the crowd once the ellon stood before him.

"On behalf of the people of Greenwood, I bestow this gift upon you in recognition of your victory."

Elros bowed before the King and Lady. "And gratefully, my king, I accept it."

Caladhel descended the three stairs of the viewing platform. She presented Elros his trophy with outstretched hands. It was a half-sized replica of an arrow cast in solid gold. Elros took the arrow and bowed once more before turning back to the crowd. He held the arrow aloft and the crowd roared.

The ceremony done, ellyn and ellith alike came forth from the stands to congratulate Elros and the other competitors. Thranduil did so as well, clasping Elros' arm and shoulder and congratulating him first before he beckoned Feren forward.

Feren bowed to his king. When he rose, Caladhel thought she caught a flash of shame in his eyes, but it vanished quickly. Thranduil clasped the warden's arm and whispered low so none but Caladhel overheard him.

"Next year."

After greeting the finalists, Thranduil took the time to speak with each of the remaining competitors, taking extra care with the youngest among them to offer needed encouragement. Caladhel greeted everyone she could, making introductions new and old until a hand upon her arm drew her attention.

"Iauron!"

"My lady."

Caladhel had not seen Iauron since the council. She was glad to find he had remained in Limrond for the festival. "Will you be celebrating with us tonight?"

"I do believe I have been granted a seat at the King's table."

"I am happy to hear it. Did you enjoy the tournament?"

"I did. Even more than I expected. It has been a long time since I attended the festival at court."

Iauron's expression was intense, more thoughtful than mere enjoyment, despite his claim. "Is something wrong?" Caladhel asked.

"No. Nothing is wrong. Quite the opposite. I think the Valar have blessed me with a vision this day."

"How is that?"

Iauron's gaze swept over the crowd and came to rest on Elros and Feren. They stood together, Elros' hand upon Feren's shoulder. They were both laughing now and Caladhel realized in that moment that the two were friends as well as competitors.

Iauron watched them for a time, too, before he said, "Long have we Elves of Greenwood been two peoples sharing the same trees. I see a day coming when we might truly be united as one."

"And to think, all I saw was an archery tournament," said Caladhel, for she was unsure of what he meant.

"They are mine, those two," he said of Elros and Feren, "and they are not. They are children of my children and of the Sindar, too. And all the crowd cheered them, these children of two worlds."

"So they did."

Caladhel's eyes lingered on the gathered wardens. Haldor was with them, and the King, too.

"Thranduil lifts them up," said Iauron, "Haldor, too. They will grow in influence and authority, and in time, they will speak for all the people of Greenwood."

"A vision, indeed," said Caladhel, for surely it was.

Iauron's gaze wandered back from the wardens to alight upon Caladhel. "Speaking of visions… You are looking very lovely today. I noted you and the King have coordinated wardrobes."

Caladhel was amused by Iauron's amusement, but she could not take credit for the gown and robe. "Lady Beleth is responsible for that bit of planning."

"Ah, Lady Beleth. I am sure you have proved a welcome distraction for her. She has lost much these last few years."

"She has, and I fear she will lose more."

Iauron had no need to ask the Lady what she meant by this. He understood Caladhel's concern well. "Time brings sorrow to every heart," he said, "but it brings us joy, too."

Iauron's eyes were on Haldor and Ithilwen when he said the last, for he had already spied the approaching couple. Ithilwen clutched Haldor's arm nervously as he led her across the lawn towards them, but relief flooded her eyes at the sight of Iauron.

Iauron, however, took the couple's arrival as his cue to depart. He turned to Caladhel. "I believe I have taken up enough of your time, my lady." He bowed to Caladhel before greeting the young couple.

"Haldor, Ithilwen." He nodded to Haldor, and after, set a kiss upon Ithilwen's forehead. She blushed from embarrassment.

Haldor waited until Iauron departed before he spoke. "Lady Caladhel, may I introduce Ithilwen."

Ithilwen dipped her head in polite acknowledgement. "My lady. I am pleased to meet you."

"I am pleased to meet you, too," said Caladhel. "I know Haldor was hoping you would join us today. I am glad you were able to attend."

"I, too," the elleth replied, but before anyone could say more a voice called out to Haldor. Faentôr stood talking still with several other wardens. He beckoned Haldor back to him.

"Will you both excuse me for a moment? Faentôr is in need. He is lost without me." Caladhel laughed and nodded, while Ithilwen's eyes grew wide. She looked for all the world like a startled deer. "I will be back in a moment," he assured her. "Will you stay with her, my lady?"

"Of course," Caladhel replied.

Haldor dashed off across the field as fast as his legs would carry him. Ithilwen followed him with her eyes. She only returned her attention to the Lady when Caladhel took her arm.

Ithilwen startled at the contact, then quickly apologized. "I am sorry. I am so nervous. I don't know what I am doing here."

"No apologies are necessary. I, too, am in a strange place. Greenwood is not Lórien, but then, I do have more experience than you at court."

"I have never been to Limrond before," Ithilwen admitted.

Caladhel was not surprised to hear it, given Faentôr's comment regarding the elleth's father. Caladhel patted Ithilwen's arm in comfort. "Haldor will guide you. He was born and raised here. And truly, the most important thing to remember is that we are all elves."

Ithilwen did not appear convinced. Her eyes flitted from Caladhel's face to the crowd and back again. "But you… I thought. That is, I have heard it said… are you not to be our queen?"

Caladhel could feel the heat spread across her cheeks and could do naught to stop herself from blushing at the elleth's question.

Caladhel and Ithilwen were both saved their discomfort by Haldor's swift return. "Forgive me," he said to Ithilwen, "I shall not leave your side again." And to Caladhel, he added, "Thank you, my lady. If you will excuse us, we must find my mother before we make our way to the feast."

They said their goodbyes and then Caladhel set out to locate the King. It took but a moment, for he was already coming to collect her.

"Shall we?"

Caladhel took Thranduil's arm and he led her back along the path to Limrond where the feast would be held. "Did your favorite win?" she asked.

"What do you think?"

"I could not tell."

"I am glad."

"And why is that?"

"If you could not tell, no one else could either."

Caladhel conceded that ignorance of their king's opinion was best for the competitors and the crowd. Still, she wished to know the answer. "Well?" Caladhel pressed.

Thranduil lowered his voice so those nearby could not overhear. "I had hoped Feren would win," he admitted.

Caladhel was surprised to hear it. It was clear to her before the final round that Feren was not nearly as confident in his skill as Elros. "You think him the stronger archer?"

"Not yet, but he will be, when he learns to trust his instincts with a bow the way he does with a blade. There are few in Greenwood who can outmatch him with an edged weapon."

"Can you?" she asked.

There was a playful humor behind her question and Thranduil was not deaf to it, but he could offer her only a wan smile in return. "There were only two ellyn in this wood who could consistently outmatch me with a sword. Both died at Dagorlad."

"Who were they?"

"My cousin – and Roewen's oldest brother, Aithron."

Caladhel now regretted having asked. She had no wish to fill Thranduil's thoughts with sad memories, though she knew that Brandil already weighed heavily on his thoughts. Caladhel only wished that Thranduil had not lost so many dear friends in the war, for she already had some notion that the King counted Roewen's brothers among those he had lost.

This line of thought, following her conversation with Iauron, reminded Caladhel of a particularly troubling observation she had made regarding Thranduil and his court, one that made Caladhel decidedly uneasy ever since they returned to Limrond.

"What are you thinking about?" Thranduil asked, for her expression had grown more severe as her silence lengthened.

"It is nothing," she replied.

"It is something."

The look in Thranduil's eyes told her his question would not be so easily dismissed, so she offered him her thoughts, such as they were. "I admit I have spent limited time with you here in Greenwood, but I have noticed that you are not nearly as friendly with the lords of your court as you are with the Silvan elves or those of mixed parentage."

"That is a fair observation," Thranduil said.

Caladhel was surprised by his answer. She had, perhaps foolishly, expected him to deny it. "But why hold your lords at a distance?"

"I have found it easier to trust in those whom I am surer want nothing more from me than friendship," Thranduil explained, but he could see his answer did not please her. "You do not approve."

That was putting it mildly. Caladhel understood Thranduil's general dislike for councils and court politics, but it had not occurred to her that his unease extended to his own people. His unwillingness to befriend the lords of his court might have been excusable when he was a prince, but it could prove dangerous to a king if ever a serious conflict arose.

"I appreciate caution when dealing with any court," said Caladhel, "but there are some who might find loyalty and trust difficult if they believe their king does not trust them in return."

"What would you suggest?"

"I would seek to befriend all your people, regardless of their birth. Distrust, like trust, should be earned."

Thranduil saw the wisdom in Caladhel's words. Though it pained him to admit it, Iordor aside, Thranduil had found it difficult to trust his father's lords. He could never be sure whether they sought his friendship truly, or solely to gain greater power and influence at court. It was a game Thranduil did not care to play, for he was not so very skilled at the arts of deception.

"Perhaps you should be King of Greenwood," he quipped, though a part of him meant it, truly.

"I believe that title is already claimed."

"There is another title free."

Caladhel was caught off guard the King's rebuttal. It was an utterly inappropriate jest, and she found herself both appalled and thrilled by his suggestion.


The lamps and bonfires were lit as the sun descended below the trees. The sky was clear, the perfect canvas for the moon and stars. Long tables were arrayed in the field before Limrond, set beneath Varda's ancient canopy. Hundreds of hands were required to arrange the field and more to prepare the feast. Platters containing the first course were already set upon the tables, brought from the kitchens and the fire pits arranged along the borders of the field.

Thranduil led Caladhel to the King's table. Beleth was already there, directing Galion and some of the other servants to their respective stations. Caladhel hurried to greet Beleth who had claimed no interest in archery when Caladhel asked if she would join them earlier that day.

"How went the tournament?" Beleth asked when Caladhel reached her side.

"It was thoroughly entertaining. Elros won."

"So I heard," said Beleth. She directed Caladhel to the seat to the King's right. It was normally reserved for Thranduil's high counselor. "You will sit there tonight."

"Where is Túven?" Caladhel asked.

"I don't know."

"Will he not be upset if I sit in his place?"

"His opinion is of no consequence," said Thranduil, surprising both ladies with his sudden interruption. "I would have you sit beside me tonight. Túven may sit on my left, should he choose to appear."

Caladhel thought it wisest to say no more on the matter. She took the seat offered her and Beleth took the one to her right. The seat to Thranduil's left, normally reserved for Iordor, remained empty the entire night.


The feast was magnificent, but Caladhel ate sparingly, for she found herself growing ever more nervous as the hours passed. Thranduil, in contrast, seemed all the while at ease. He laughed at the stories shared at their table and delighted in the minstrels who offered to play. Caladhel found Thranduil's lightheartedness enchanting. She did not wish to diminish his enjoyment of the day by even the smallest measure, so when the servants began to clear the tables and move some away to make room to dance, Caladhel offered Greenwood's king a reprieve.

"You need not dance with me tonight."

A look of puzzlement spread across Thranduil's face at her offer. "You would free me of my obligation?"

"I do not like being backed into a corner any more than you do," Caladhel said. "I know you do not care for dancing. Your promise to do so for my sake is enough."

Thranduil was silent for a time while he studied her. The corners of his mouth twitched before they drew into a smile. "You are mistaken," he said.

"About what?"

"I never said I do not enjoy dancing."

"You told me you never danced."

"So I did. I did not say I dislike it."

"Then why?"

"I enjoy dancing. I merely dislike the mindless complications too often associated with it."

"What complications?"

Thranduil's humor slowly receded, replaced by a wearied mask. "It was not so very complicated when I was one of a thousand young lords of Doriath, but it did not take long for the Prince of Greenwood to learn that a dance can mean more to some than he intended. I found it simpler to avoid dancing with anyone, rather than create tension where none existed."

"Why do I have the feeling this has something to do with your hair?" At the look of confusion that formed on Thranduil's face, Caladhel offered an explanation. "Roewen mentioned the ellith of Greenwood were quite taken with the color when you and Brandil first arrived in this forest."

Caladhel had never seen Thranduil look so uncomfortable as he did when she mentioned his hair. She could barely suppress her laughter at the face he made.

"Yes," he replied. "I always found the attention fairly unnerving."

"Have no fear. I have seen your shade of silver all my life. I am immune to its effects."

"Not entirely immune, I'd wager."

He had her there. If Caladhel was to be entirely honest, she did find Thranduil's hair a lovely shade, his hair - and his eyes. But she had not thought much on the King's appearance prior to her first offer to dance, and she wondered now what he might have thought of her invitation.

"Did you think my invitation to dance at Celebrían's wedding an attempt to seduce you? I assure you, it was merely a courtesy."

"I am well aware of that," Thranduil replied, "but had I danced with you, I would have been bound to dance with another. As I said, to favor one over another can create tension where none existed."

"Then do you not risk the same trouble if you choose to dance with me tonight? Perhaps some other ellith at this celebration will expect you to dance with them."

"If they do, then they are fools."

"Is that so?"

"It is. My people know I would not dance with any elleth unless I was sure."

"Sure of what?"

"That I had found the elleth I wish to dance with forever."

Caladhel did not know what to say in answer to such a declaration. Thranduil had made his promise to dance with her months ago, long before the idea of loving him had ever occurred to her. How could he have been so sure after so brief a time together?

Thranduil offered her his hand. "Will you dance with me?"

She wanted to, truly, but still she hesitated to take his hand, not knowing what promise she was making with so simple a gesture. A dance meant not so much to her as it did to him.

Thranduil knew he had said too much at the last. He had intended only for Caladhel to understand his thoughts on the matter, not to hold her captive to his want. "I ask to dance with you tonight," he whispered, "not as a promise held for all time."

Thranduil's assurance soothed her anxiety some, and Caladhel accepted his invitation and his hand. But despite his words, she knew full well that a promise was what he truly desired.

Thranduil took her hand, lacing his fingers between hers as he had those many days and nights at the farm. He led her to the floor where dozens of elves were already dancing. They halted a pair at a time, each in their turn stepping aside to allow the King and Lady to pass, until at last they stood at the center of all. Caladhel recognized the tune the minstrels played. She knew the steps, and so did Thranduil. They clasped hands, their eyes fixed upon each other and at next beat of the drum they joined in the dance.

The crowd melted away, and so, too, all the world, all but the music and the light of the stars overhead. They were lost in each other, so very lost that neither Thranduil nor Caladhel noted when the other dancers stopped to observe them. The whole of the crowd watched their king, some with fond memory of his youth, others in surprise, but all with delight in their hearts. All but one. Across the field, beneath a great oak tree, Túven stood still and silent. He watched his nephew dance, his angry heart flooded now with confusion.