Chapter 40: Indánna
Caladhel aided Beleth with the preparations for the feast, that is, until Beleth realized Caladhel was still wearing her training attire. "Run along and change! You don't want to greet the King in a muddy tunic, do you?"
Caladhel was certain what clothing she wore would not matter to Thranduil, but she did not bother to argue. It might not matter to Thranduil what she wore, but it might well matter to his people. It was, after all, far more appropriate for a guest of Limrond's court to dress formally when welcoming the return of Greenwood's king.
Caladhel hurried to her room to change. She considered each and every dress in her wardrobe along the way, weighing which would be most appropriate. It was times like these that Caladhel missed Celebrían terribly, and envied her as well. It was silly, yes, but her cousin had always had a keener eye for fashion. It was a talent Caladhel lacked and as she approached her rooms, she found her greatest anxiety in many weeks was born now in the question of what she should wear.
The answer was blessedly taken from her hands. Daerel was already in the Queen's apartment, having received permission from her mother to skip her studies in favor of attending Caladhel. Daerel had already laid out two dresses she thought would be perfect for the event and Caladhel found it much easier to choose from two. She decided on a blue gown and hurried to wash up before changing. Daerel had only just finished plaiting Caladhel's hair when a horn echoed through the halls.
"They are nearly here, my lady," Daerel shrieked. "We must hurry!"
Caladhel could barely contain her own excitement, but did what she could to calm Daerel's nerves. "Peace, child. We have thirty minutes, at least, until they reach the palace. There is plenty of time."
But Daerel rushed them both out the door, despite Caladhel's assurances. It was fortunate she did. For no sooner had Caladhel joined the throng amassed in the field before Limrond, then the King's procession appeared.
Thranduil rode at the head, as majestic as ever. He looked no worse for wear. Caladhel noted the armor worn by his captains had clearly seen use, while Thranduil's bore no stain of blood or grime upon it. She did not imagine he wore a second set of armor merely for the procession, but could not be sure.
The trumpets sounded as the company entered the glade and a chorus of cheers rose up all around. Thranduil returned his people's greeting with a wave of his hand, but his eyes scanned the crowd ceaselessly. He was looking for her, Caladhel knew, and when their eyes finally met, neither could look away.
Thranduil brought his horse to a halt before Caladhel. Túven stood a little to her left, Beleth at his side. The remainder of the court had gathered around. Túven, in his role as High Counselor, lifted his voice and made some grand pronouncement for all to hear. A welcome home. A praise of victory. Caladhel could not be sure of his words. They were drowned out by the beating of her heart at the sight of Thranduil.
They waited, gazes locked, as Túven droned on, both of them impatient for him to finish. When he finally did, a cheer rose from the crowd again and Thranduil dismounted. In three full strides he stood before her. Caladhel greeted Greenwood's king in proper fashion, with her hand upon her heart and a graceful bow.
Thranduil laughed, but Caladhel had no time to decipher the cause, for she found herself swept up in his arms. He lifted her clear off the ground as he kissed her. It was a greeting Caladhel gladly returned.
It took half a minute, but the sound of the crowd cheering finally reached the King, intruding on his very public private moment with Caladhel. He drew back a little and Caladhel noted a bit of color upon his cheeks. The very idea of Thranduil blushing was absurd to Caladhel's mind, and she could do naught but laugh.
Thranduil set her back down on the grass, but did not free her from his arms just yet. "I am sorry," he whispered. "That was entirely inappropriate."
"Entirely," she agreed. When he made no move to free her, she added, "You can let me go now."
"Must I?"
"Your people have missed you as well."
At Caladhel's urging, Thranduil freed her and turned to greet his aunt and uncle. Beleth was beaming. And to Caladhel's great surprise, Túven's expression bore only the slightest hint of disapproval. More elves stepped forward to greet their king and the gathering crowd slowly separated Thranduil from Caladhel.
Caladhel's elation at Thranduil's return was deflated considerably by his sudden absence. She was forced to mingle with other members of court, participating only halfheartedly in the conversation as her eyes followed Thranduil across the lawn. Amid the court chatter, Caladhel caught wind of a council meeting. She watched Túven and the other council members usher the King inside. A frown formed on her face, despite her best efforts to appear cheerful. Beleth was at her side a moment later, having noted Caladhel's distress.
"What is wrong?" Beleth whispered.
"A council meeting. Now? He has only just arrived."
"It is only a formality. The real meeting will be held tomorrow. Tonight we feast." Beleth stroked Caladhel's arm in a feeble attempt to comfort her in her loss. "Be strong. They will not keep him long."
"Do I look that distraught?"
"Your moods are more subtle than most, but I have learned to read them well enough." Beleth's gaze passed over the gathered crowd. "Keep smiling," she whispered as she led Caladhel slowly back toward Limrond's halls. "All eyes are upon you now."
It took no more than a fleeting glance for Caladhel to see that Beleth was correct. It would take her some time to become accustomed to so much attention. Caladhel forced herself to smile. It was not too difficult a task. All she need do was think of Thranduil and his safe return. "Thank you for reminding me," she said.
"What else are dear aunts for?"
Thranduil suffered through the brief meeting wherein he officially declared the threat in Amon Lanc defeated and set a time for all his captains to make their reports to the full council.
"Your victory is a blessing to all of Greenwood," said Túven, "and to Lórien, as well."
It was the only apology Thranduil would receive from his uncle, but it was enough. Thranduil was pleased to hear Túven acknowledge his mistake, albeit subtly, and before the entire council, as well. When the meeting was done, Túven dismissed the other counselors and he and Thranduil retreated to the King's chambers. Túven aided his nephew in shedding the armor he wore.
"Are there any urgent matters of state to attend to before the celebration begins?" Thranduil asked now that they could speak privately.
"Nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow."
"Are you sure?" Thranduil asked. "You seem to have something on your mind." His uncle had been unusually subdued since his arrival. He had half expected Túven to admonish him for his very public display of affection and braced for a lecture.
It never came.
"She missed you," he said.
Thranduil knew Túven did not refer to Beleth, and he did not imagine Caladhel had confided in his uncle.
"How do you know?"
"I caught her unguarded while you were away. Her sadness was not feigned."
Thranduil had missed her as well, terribly, and his heart swelled at knowing she felt the same. "Now that the forest is safe, there will be no need for us to be parted again under such circumstances. Not for an age, if our luck holds."
"You will ask for her hand soon then, I take it."
"Soon."
"She will have to return to her kin. And your engagement will last a year or more if she follows Noldorin tradition."
"I will wait a year for her, Túven. I will wait a thousand."
Túven sighed at Thranduil's declaration, but he said no more. He bowed and turned toward the door, intent upon granting his nephew time to prepare for the feast. Thranduil's voice stopped him.
"Uncle." Thranduil waited for Túven to turn around again before he spoke again. "You know I have loved Beleth as a mother, and you, as a father."
"I know," said Túven, "and I know you love her more."
"More than my own life's blood."
"She has changed you," Túven said. "She has already begun changing your court."
No doubt. Thranduil had not forgotten their conversation about his court. He would have been surprised only if Caladhel had taken longer to begin healing old wounds. Whatever it was she had done, Thranduil was certain it was for the best, but he was not deaf to the concern in Túven's voice. Most elves resisted change. His uncle was unquestionably among them.
"There has been much upheaval these last hundred years," said Thranduil, "and there will be more to come. I will understand if you can abide no more of it."
"And what choice do I have? I made a promise to your father, to watch over you – and Greenwood."
"And you have kept your word. I would hold your oath fulfilled and free you from any promise you made to Oropher."
"For what purpose?" Túven asked.
"So that you might find peace in Valinor."
Túven stood still and silent for a time, contemplating his nephew's words, the intention behind them. "You would banish me from the kingdom I founded?" he asked.
"No. I do not order you to leave Greenwood. I offer you the freedom to decide."
"But you would see me sail," Túven pressed.
It was true. He would. But not for any reason Túven might fear. "I would have you know joy again, and find peace, if it exists, on the western shore. You will not know either again in Middle-earth. And if it is true that the dead are one day reborn, I would have you be there to welcome Brandil home."
Túven remained silent awhile and Thranduil waited patiently for his uncle to say something. Anything. It came, at last. A more cordial reply than Thranduil expected.
"I will think upon your offer."
"Please, do."
Túven bowed and turned to leave, but he spoke one last time before departing. "A package arrived while you were away. Beleth placed it in the king's chambers."
He departed then, and Thranduil followed shortly thereafter. The feast was soon to begin, and Caladhel awaited him.
Greenwood's king was announced with great ceremony, as was custom, and Thranduil forced himself to endure it. Once through the door, he made his way straight for the high table, noting that the seating order had been changed. Beleth's doing, no doubt. Caladhel sat on his right with Iordor and Amariel beside her. Túven and Beleth sat on his left. Thranduil caught Caladhel's eye as he made his way to his chair and they shared a smile. There was one thing more for the King to do before he could again speak with Caladhel.
Galion handed him a goblet, already poured, and turning to the room, Thranduil spoke. The speech was brief, but the crowd applauded, and he bid the feast begin.
Thranduil was barely seated before he took Caladhel's hand. With her smooth, delicate fingers laced between his own, he finally felt at home.
"I feared you might never return," Caladhel whispered.
Thranduil read the old worry in her eyes, and her present joy as well. He regretted being responsible for the first. "As it turned out, your fear was unwarranted."
"How is that?"
"I did not lead the battle charge."
"You changed your mind?"
"One could say that."
"Would you?"
Thranduil's gaze swept over the assembly, alighting on a table where Roewen sat with several other of his captains. "It might be more accurate to say my captains changed my mind."
"How was it they were able to persuade you, when I could not?"
"They convinced me it was best for Greenwood if the King remained behind." A spark of pain flashed in Caladhel's eyes. He had not wanted to hurt her with this confession, but he would not lie. "I know what you are thinking. You said it first."
"Why is it you could hear them, and not me?"
"The truth?"
Caladhel nodded.
Thranduil struggled to find the right words and his quest led his gaze back to Roewen's table. "I count some of my captains as friends, all of them, as brothers-in-arms, but I do not love them as I love you. Their argument was easier to hear without my personal feelings confusing the matter." His gaze shifted and he returned his attention to Caladhel. "If I had conceded you the argument, I would have done so out of love, not because I believed the choice was best for my people. I could not put my want before the King's duty. I could not allow it. I can never allow it."
He stroked the fingers of her hand in an attempt at comfort. Caladhel returned the gesture, tightening her grip ever so slightly.
"I understand," she said.
"Do you?"
"Was it not I who told you that the King of Greenwood came before all others?"
"You did. But it is one thing to believe so, another to live forever with such conviction."
"Ruling a kingdom is no simple task," said Caladhel. "I know that. I know I will not always agree with your decisions."
Thranduil read the truth of it in her eyes, in the lines at the corners that deepened with her smile. Her words allayed a fear he had not realized he harbored – that the reality of a king's duty would be too much for Caladhel. He had never been happier to be wrong.
"I promise you now, I will always listen to your advice, even if I cannot follow it."
Caladhel accepted this promise with a nod, and after, their conversation turned to lighter matters.
The feast was a drawn out affair and when the final course was done the King rose to mingle with his guests. Caladhel joined him. They made a circuit around the hall together, arm in arm, for neither had a wish to be parted. Only once did Caladhel slip away to speak with Roewen and some other of Greenwood's captains. She wished to check on Haldor, as well, who had broken his arm. He seemed to be managing the injury well that evening, what with Ithilwen fawning over him the entire night.
"I heard the captains revolted," Caladhel said.
A spark of laughter lit Roewen's eyes – Faentôr and Haldor's as well. "There might have been a minor coup," she said.
"How did you manage it?"
Haldor gestured to Roewen with his good arm. "This one here convinced the rest of us that it was too dangerous to risk our king when he has no heir."
"Was that the argument?" Caladhel asked. It had not been quite what she imagined, though admittedly, Roewen's argument proved more effective than her own.
"Indeed," Roewen replied. "And it worked splendidly. I did promise I would return him to you in one piece, did I not?"
"Clever, isn't she?" said Faentôr.
"Very," Caladhel agreed, for she was, indeed, amused by Roewen's ingenuity.
Roewen, however, crushed Caladhel's amusement with a warning. "Do not be overly pleased by my little ploy. It will not hold forever. Our king is likely to want seven sons to ensure he never misses another battle."
Caladhel, who had been sipping wine when Roewen said this, began choking on the drink.
Faentôr came swiftly to the Lady's side, patting Caladhel's back while he glared at Roewen. "Careful now. You will frighten the Lady away before she has agreed to one!"
Túven had told Thranduil that matters of state could wait until morning. What he failed to tell his nephew was that it would take days to read through the various reports and correspondence requiring his attention. For the next few days he was bound to his study, only leaving to rest and attend the council meeting for his captains' final reports.
Time was slipping away. Precious time. And all the while, Thranduil wanted nothing more than to spend that time with Caladhel.
She granted his unspoken wish on the second day of his confinement. Caladhel arrived after the evening meal he had skipped with a book in her hand. She took a seat before the fire while he read at his desk and remained there all the while he worked. Even Túven had come to begrudgingly accept her presence, delivering missives and such news as required the King's attention. Caladhel never interrupted, nor did she interfere in any way with his work. Indeed, he would not have made such swift progress had she been elsewhere. He had no need to daydream about her when she was but a glance away.
A courier arrived at the King's study late in the evening on the fourth day. He handed his king a sealed parchment and departed as quietly as he came. Thranduil recognized the symbol instantly and broke the seal to reveal the letter's contents. He frowned at the message the parchment contained, and must have made some unpleasant vocalization, for Caladhel's attention was drawn from her book to the King.
"What is wrong?"
Thranduil rose from his seat, parchment in hand. "Celeborn will arrive in a week to escort you home." He handed her the letter so she could read the message herself.
Caladhel, too, was saddened by this news, but it was not entirely unexpected. "It is no great surprise. I have lingered here longer than I planned." She handed him back the letter, which contained other matters of importance to Thranduil's realm.
"I am sorry your visit here was not more peaceful," said Thranduil.
Caladhel took a moment to consider whether she felt the same. While it was true she would have preferred more time with Thranduil, their bond was stronger now after all that had passed. "I am not," she said, decidedly.
Thranduil understood what she meant by her playful tone and the echo of laughter in her eyes. He loved her so, more than anything, or anyone. "I would show you something," he said. "Will you come?"
Thranduil held out his hand to her and Caladhel took hold. He drew her gently to her feet and led her through a door at the rear of his study, hidden behind a tapestry. It opened to a maze of passages beyond.
Caladhel was curious to know where he led her, for she had not seen these passages before. She supposed Limrond had many such secret paths reserved for the King and was reminded of her musings upon their first meeting. Perhaps Thranduil did have a hidden passage leading to his throne.
They climbed a stair, which led to a short corridor with a single door. Caladhel swore she recognized it.
"Where are we?" Caladhel asked.
Thranduil ushered her through the door, whereupon Caladhel realized they stood at the rear of the Queen's apartment. Down a short hall was another door. One Caladhel had been unable to open. She had suspected it led to an adjoining apartment, likely reserved for the King. Thranduil unlocked the door with a key and ushered Caladhel inside.
The room was lit only by moonlight, but it needed no other source. Caladhel was drawn to the terrace and its wide-open view of Greenwood Forest, above the trees. The view stretched for hundreds of miles south.
"It is breathtaking," said Caladhel.
"Yes, it is."
Thranduil's arms came around to engulf her and she relaxed against his chest. They stood there awhile, enjoying the radiance of the moon and the stars together.
"Beleth said you were reluctant to claim these rooms for yourself. Is this terrace not reason enough?"
"My memories of this room are those of my father. His absence is keenly felt here."
"But you are the king now," Caladhel said.
"And I will be king, whether I sleep here or beneath the stars." Thranduil leaned closer to Caladhel. Her head nestled perfectly beneath his chin. "Perhaps if I could fill these rooms with new memories, my father's ghost would not haunt it so."
Thranduil drew away from her suddenly, unexpectedly, causing Caladhel to turn her back on the stars.
"I have something else to show you."
"Something to top the view?"
Caladhel did not think it possible, but she allowed Thranduil to lead her back inside to a small table set in the center of the parlor. It, too, was lit by the moon, and in the middle sat a leather box. It was three hands high and wide, inlaid with silver.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Open it."
She did as he bid and with the lid removed the sides fell away to reveal a crown of mithril and diamonds. In form it was much like Thranduil's own, a memory of flowering vines and brambles. It glittered beneath the moon and stars, reflecting the heavenly light.
Caladhel gasped at its radiance. "It is exquisite. Who fashioned the stones?"
"The dwarves of the Misty Mountains."
Caladhel was not entirely surprised to hear it. The elves of Eregion had traded often with the dwarves of Moria throughout the Second Age. Imladris did, too.
"Your mother must have looked radiant so crowned."
"The crown did not belong to Naerwen," Thranduil said.
"Then who?"
"I had it made – for you."
Caladhel looked to the crown and back to Thranduil, hardly believing it, though she heard him well enough. "Had it made? When?"
"I sent out riders after our conversation in the great hall."
"That was only mere weeks ago."
"The dwarves know their arts, and they will expedite their work, for a price. It is yours."
To say Caladhel was overwhelmed by this gift would be an understatement. "Thranduil. I cannot accept such a gift. It is not suitable for a lady."
"It was not made for a lady. It was made for a queen."
Caladhel knew these were no hollow words. She knew, also, that he had chosen to have this gift made for her weeks before she knew her own heart. Had he gambled wisely? Or was it something more? Caladhel looked from Thranduil to the crown and back again. His expression was calm, unguarded. He seemed almost unconcerned, but surely his heart pounded as nervously as hers.
"Did you think such a gift would sway my decision?"
"No. I knew it would not."
"Then why?"
"Because you found the stones enchanting, and so I would give them to you. I would give you all that I possess."
"And what would you ask in return for such a favor?"
"I would ask that you be my heart's treasure, and remain by my side, now and forever."
Thranduil seated himself on the edge of the table, his eyes downcast, thoughtful. Caladhel could see he wished to say more, but it took time to find the right words. She reached out a hand to him. He took it in his and drew her closer, pressing her hand to his heart.
"There are things in this world I had once hoped for," he said, "above all of them, I hoped to be healed. That day by the water, you said you could not make me whole again, but you are wrong. You have. It took time to understand, but I am certain now, you are the sum of every hope I ever had. The mere thought of you fills my heart with joy and I will spend the rest of my days seeing that you feel as I do."
Tears threatened to escape the edges of Caladhel's eyes at his words, while the corners of her mouth crept upward. "Did anyone ever tell you how charming you can be?"
"Only Beleth."
Caladhel read humor in Thranduil's eyes, and love, too. But there was one thing more. A question that troubled her still. An answer she had to know.
"What would you do if my answer was no?"
Thranduil sat up straighter, his expression grave. "You ask if I would keep you here against your will, as I confessed I imagined?"
Caladhel nodded.
Thranduil stroked the back of her hand, marveling at how small it was cradled in his own, before returning possession to her. "No," he answered. "I would let you go."
"Would you, truly?"
"I would," he replied. His gaze wandered away towards the corner of the room, which the light of the moon failed to brighten. "Perhaps I could keep you in Limrond and prevent your escape. And maybe, too, I could hold you in darkness until you confused me with the light. But I would not have you then. I would have only a shadow of my want, something dark and twisted and a mockery of what my heart sought."
Caladhel knew Thranduil meant it, truly. He would hold her forever, or would let her go, and all because he loved her so. "A year ago, not even my aunt's mirror could have convinced me that you would love me one day."
Thranduil's gaze returned to her face, his expression unsure for the first time. "Would you believe the mirror now?"
"No. But I believe you."
A thoughtful silence fell upon her then, and Thranduil took the opportunity to draw her close, resting his forehead against hers. "I do not need an answer now," he said. "I would not rush your heart's decision. I will wait an age, a hundred ages and more."
Amusement lit Caladhel's eyes at this particular declaration. She thought to tease him that he said so only to outdo Elrond, who had waited almost an age for her cousin. "I do not need an age to give you an answer."
"No?" he asked.
Caladhel replied with a kiss, long and slow. Thranduil returned her passion with his own, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her so close against him he could feel the beating of her heart.
Caladhel drew away first, but only barely, her lips trailing light kisses across his cheek. As her lips grazed his ear, she whispered, "I love you."
No three words could have meant more. Thranduil was certain he could have died that very instant in a state of perfect happiness, such as he had never known. "Is that a yes, then?"
"What else do you imagine?"
"I would hear you say it to be sure."
"I will marry you. I will be your queen, your Indánna, from now until forever ends."
~End Part II~
