Chapter 39: Impatience

Roewen made her way on swift feet to the King's tent and bowed hastily upon entering. "My lord," she said in greeting.

"What news?" he asked.

"It is time."

Thranduil was glad to hear it. He was normally an exceptionally patient ellon, but sitting in this tent for weeks, waiting for a fortress of orcs to starve was not how he would have preferred to spend his time. Caladhel was waiting for him, and a small but nagging part of his mind feared she would depart Limrond before he returned.

"Send word to Iordor and Lórien's commanders," he said. "They must prepare."

"It is done, my lord."

Thranduil was surprised - and not - to hear her say so. After all, it was not an order that needed to come directly from him, and yet, few of his captains would have sent the message off without first consulting their king.

"Always a step ahead of me, captain."

Some of Roewen's usual swagger faded from her eyes. "My apologies, if I overstepped."

That had not been Thranduil's meaning, though he could not rightly say whether it was praise or caution he wished to convey with his observation. Perhaps he had intended a measure of each. "Aithron was always a step ahead of my cousin," said Thranduil, "until his last."

A smile crept slowly across Roewen's face. She laughed dryly. "If it is of any comfort, my lord, I assure you, I have no plans to take a spear for you today."

"I doubt your brother planned to die in Brandil's place."

"I would not be so sure of that," said Roewen. "Perhaps Aithron was not eager to give his life for a Sindarin prince, but he was ever willing to die for a friend."

Thranduil knew her to be right on both accounts. Aithron had been less than pleased by the establishment of a Sindarin kingdom in his people's wood, but that reluctance had not stopped him from becoming a fierce and loyal friend to Thranduil and his cousin. If the war had played out differently, Thranduil knew his cousin would be now at his side, and Aithron in his sister's place, delivering news from their network of spies.

Thranduil pushed that last thought away. It would do no good to dwell on 'might have beens'. Thranduil was grateful for Roewen's presence now, and the loyalty of those captains who survived Dagorlad with him.

"Summon the captains," Thranduil commanded. "We must prepare."

Roewen bowed and turned as if to leave, but she hesitated at the door and turned back to her king once again. "My lord, if I may speak freely?"

"Were you not doing so just now?"

"What I have to say, I am sure you will not want to hear."

"So you ask permission to offend me?" he asked, but Roewen's expression was yes enough. "Go on, then."

Roewen squared her shoulders and breathed deep, drawing on what courage she possessed before speaking. "Allow another to lead the attack on Amon Lanc."

Roewen's statement was unexpected and it struck hard, leaving Thranduil in a state of mild confusion. He had not seen this argument coming, and knew not from whence it came. "Do you think I am likely to be felled by a starving orc?"

"Your skill in battle is not in question," said Roewen. "Even the greatest of warriors may fall to an enemy blade. There is no need to risk your life today."

A tide of anger began to rise within Thranduil. He could not believe he was having this argument with Roewen, of all people. "I will not hide in this tent while my warriors risk theirs. I am the King of Greenwood. It is my duty to lead my people in war."

"It is your duty to lead," Roewen echoed forcefully, "and Greenwood needs you. Our people need you. You are our king now, but you are a king without an heir. Oropher left our people in your capable hands. But who will lead us, who will protect us, if you should fall?"

Thranduil had no answer for her, at least, no answer Roewen would like. He ignored her question and instead turned the course of the argument. "And which of my captains do you suppose should fight in my place? Which of you should I choose to die for me?"

"Any one of us would be honored to fight in your stead," Roewen said.

"Now you speak for all under my command?"

Roewen's eyes hardened at Thranduil's accusation. This time, however, Roewen knew she had not overstepped. "These concerns are not mine alone. We have discussed the matter. Your captains are agreed. We would not risk you this day."

Roewen's words echoed in Thranduil's mind, four of them in particular. He spoke them aloud, more in surprise than in anger. "My captains are agreed."

Roewen bristled, despite the evenness of his tone. She braced herself for an outburst of anger, but it never came. Instead, Thranduil's stern countenance softened a measure and he laughed.

"Did you draw the short straw," he asked, "or were you the only one brave enough to confront me?"

The tension in Roewen's shoulders melted away in the wake of Thranduil's laughter, dry though it was. "Faentôr might have suggested that I was the least likely to be struck for suggesting you sit this battle out."

Thranduil did not bother to tell her Faentôr was correct. She knew it already. It was the reason she volunteered for the task. "Summon the captains," he said, dismissing her before he turned away.

"What will you do?" she asked before departing.

"What I must… for my people."


The arrow struck the target wide, but Daerel shrieked gleefully for having hit it at all. Her stance was much improved after Caladhel's brief instruction, aiding her aim. Caladhel smiled and nodded her praise, then guided the next young elleth into position, correcting the placement of her feet and the height of her elbow.

The gathering at the archery field had been Daerel's suggestion, at the behest of the youngest ellith of Thranduil's court. There were only five daughters born to Greenwood's courtiers since the war, and like their brothers, instruction with a blade and bow was a part of their formal education. Daerel's young companions were eager to spend time with the Lórien lady, and they thought archery instruction a clever excuse. Caladhel, for her part, thought it a fine opportunity to mingle with Thranduil's court, for three of the children were daughters of Sindar while the remaining two were half-Silvan. The children's chatter also served as a welcome distraction, for Caladhel found herself growing ever more impatient for word of Thranduil's return.

The ladies and their daughters gathered in the late morning at the archery field. The conversation amongst Gwendeth and the other mothers stuck mainly to the topic of archery and their daughter's skill, but the children were bolder. Like Daerel, they had not yet learned to restrain their curiosity. They asked many questions, those Caladhel was sure their mothers also harbored, but feared to ask.

"Is it true you are kin to the Lady of Light?" Arveldis's awe echoed in her voice and in the depths of her wide blue eyes.

"She is my aunt by marriage," Caladhel explained. "My father was a lord of her father's house in Valinor."

"I have heard it said your aunt has deep magic," said Idhren, "brought with her from across the sea."

"She studied long at the feet of the Valar," said Caladhel, "and it is true that she possesses great knowledge and power. Some she gained in Valinor during her youth, but much of it is drawn from her time in Middle-earth."

"I think I would tremble beneath the gaze of such a lady!" Daerel exclaimed. "I can hardly live for the look in Iauron's eyes."

"Despite what powers my aunt might possess, she wept the day her daughter left home to dwell in Imladris. Beneath the magic and wisdom, she is but flesh and blood, a mother, and a daughter, as well."

"Perhaps Lady Galadriel will visit Limrond some day," said Gwendeth, and by the look in her eyes Caladhel guessed what day she meant.

Caladhel smiled in reply. "That she might."

The private archery lesson was interrupted by the arrival of an ellon, his hands burdened by a pair of baskets.

"My ladies."

"Good afternoon, Galion." Caladhel welcomed the ellon warmly, but not without a hint of surprise.

"Forgive my intrusion, Lady Caladhel, but you missed the midday meal."

"Forgive me for not informing you of our outing beforehand, " said Caladhel, for she felt terrible, truly, for having inconvenienced the court steward. "It slipped my mind entirely."

Galion set the baskets down and waved away her apology. "No matter. I have fixed a meal for you and your companions."

A chorus of thanks issued from the ladies. Before they were done, Galion had already begun arranging plates. The ladies continued their conversation while Galion attended them. When the meal was done, the ladies excused themselves and their daughters a pair at a time. It was well past midday, and the children had their studies to attend to.

Caladhel bid the Silvan ladies a good day and watched them head across the field to the path which led to their telain. Gwendeth and the other Sindar awaited Caladhel, who wished to be sure Galion needed no aid. When she returned her attention to the steward she found Galion's tasks already done. Thranduil's chief steward was nothing if not efficient in his work.

"Is there anything we help can you with, Galion?" she asked, though clearly he had everything under control.

"I believe I have everything."

"Lady Caladhel, we are departing!" Gwendeth called.

Caladhel prepared to join the ladies, but Galion's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"My lady, may I have a private word?"

The gravity in the steward's tone suggested a serious matter. "Of course," she said, and turning to Gwendeth, waved her on. "I will be along shortly."

Gwendeth eyed Galion curiously before she gathered the flock of ellith to her and led them away.

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

Galion did not answer immediately. His eyes followed the ellith as they reached the top of the hill, far enough away so he would not be overheard. Once he was sure of privacy, he said, "I wished to apologize to you, my lady."

"Whatever for?"

"For the night you first visited Limrond."

Caladhel recalled the events of that night vividly, but she had no idea why Galion should seek forgiveness. "I am afraid I do not follow you."

Galion's gaze fell to the ground, for in his shame he could not quite hold the lady's eyes. "I was the steward tasked with ensuring you overindulged in the wine."

Caladhel could not help but laugh at his confession. Galion was, indeed, a master of his craft. She had wondered long on how it was her cup never emptied. "You certainly succeeded."

The steward's eyes rose from the ground at her laughter. "It was not my wish to harm you, but I... I could not refuse Lord Túven's command."

"Of course not," said Caladhel. "Please, do not trouble yourself over the matter."

"Still, I want for you to know that I regret deceiving you. I will not betray you again."

"Of course not. I accept your apology, Galion."

"Thank you, my lady."

"And thank you," she said, "for your kind attendance these many weeks." Caladhel had thought to thank him earlier, for Galion had been nothing but helpful and attentive to her every need since Thranduil departed. Now she knew his loyal service was in part an act of contrition.

"It is my duty and honor to serve you, my lady," said Galion. "Now, and in the future, as well."

Caladhel accepted his pledge of service with a smile and a nod of her head. He was not the first citizen of Limrond to speak of the future, of her future in Greenwood. They did so cautiously, but each in their own way lent support to a future where she would be their queen. Galion did so now, with his apology and his oath of loyalty.

It had not been easy for Caladhel at first, to accept the support of lords and servants in this matter. She felt it presumptuous on her part, for while Thranduil had professed his love for her, and joked about the available title, he had not yet formally asked her to marry him. She knew he would one day, and soon, but until that day came, it felt wrong to accept pledges of loyalty from Greenwood's people. Their loyalty belonged to their king and to their people alone, until such a day when Caladhel was made one of them.

Caladhel and the steward walked back to the palace in silence. That silence was only broken upon the arrival of Lady Beleth. She came rushing across the narrow bridge toward Caladhel, calling the lady's name.

"The battle is won!" she exclaimed. "Our king returns home, today."