"Come, I have something I wish to show you."
I dragged my eyes from the report I was reading, to see Thranduil holding out his hand toward me. He was looking decidedly solemn, but I had no smile to cheer him. "Is there not a better time?" I asked. "I wanted to reply to Faldir's report before noon."
"I am more important." Plucking the paper from my hand with his long fingers, Thranduil threw it over his shoulder before gripping my upper arm and pulling me to my feet. In another time, I would have laughed at his haughty humor, but I was not in the mood, and I continued to whine.
"I haven't even dressed for the day!"
I imagine he rolled his eyes at that, but he fetched a cloak for me which I had thrown on our bed - I think it had been a few days ago, time made little sense to me anymore - and he secured it around my shoulders, drawing it closed. "There," he said. "Now the fact that your nightgown is decorated with bows will remain a mystery, to all but myself." I was not cajoled into happiness, but I appreciated his effort. He kept a firm grip on my hand as he half-pulled me down the corridors, through halls, and eventually to the front gate to the city. "Do you fancy a long walk or a short ride?" he asked over his shoulder.
"A walk," I said. "So that when I reply to that poor marchwarden I can give him a very thorough explanation as to why it was delayed."
"A walk it is."
I would not admit it, but the fresh air, laden with the scent of spring blossoms, was so refreshing to me that a spring appeared in my step and I breathed deeply. I had spent little time in the forest for the last several years, and now I realized that I missed it. The past winter had been especially dreary, but it seemed Spring was making her best effort to compensate.
We walked about fifteen miles to the south and east, until the tall trees began to thin slightly, and chirpy bird song reached my ears. "Are we somewhere special?" I asked, when Thranduil stopped.
"It is only special because of what dwells here. Look." He was pointing to a gap between two birches, where mossy ferns were growing about as tall as my knee. As I watched, a sniffling brown-furred nose appeared in the leaves, followed by large unblinking eyes and a tall pair of antlers. The animal stepped forward, breaking branches in the silent clearing and bowing low to us, its head reaching the forest's mossy floor.
I stared in confusion. "Thranduil, this is ridiculous, what -" Then I felt as if a weight had settled in my stomach. This was no ordinary wood deer. A sad, sort of intelligence was present in its eyes, and it moved towards me while I stood riveted. I would have mistaken it for the white stag, were it silver. But this stag was a beautifully deep bronze that shimmered in patches of sunlight that streamed through leaves, turning almost golden. A wet nose pressed into my limp hand, and I stared at it. "Hello," I said. "You're a handsome fellow, aren't you?" A pink tongue darted out and licked the tips of my fingers before the stag snorted, and gave a violent sneeze, shaking its head and nearly putting my eyes out with its antlers.
"The forest needed a guardian," Thranduil whispered to my left. "The Valar granted our son the return of a part of his spirit, same as my father."
"B - Belegorn?" The stag pranced a bit before spreading out his neck to give a resonant cry. Then it trotted towards me, and began licking the tears on my cheeks. "My son!" I knelt in front of the animal and wrapped my arms around its elegant neck.
"He's not Belegorn," Thranduil said gently. "Belegorn dwells in Valinor. This guardian simply shares memories and emotions with him. He knows you, that is certain. But there are...limitations to that connection."
I pulled away from the stag and wiped my nose on a my sleeve. "How did you find him?"
Silence followed my question. I turned to my husband, and he relented. "The stag found me. I have wandered far in the forest, seeking solace from my grief. It was rather embarrassing, I allowed my connection to the forest go lax and was unaware of his presence."
"We have both been lax," I said. "I wish to return home." I stood, stroking the stag's ears once more, before Thranduil and I left the glade, significantly more content than we entered.
The healing was not immediate, nor was it complete. But with the closure of knowing that Belegorn was safe and whole once more brought me a contentment that I thought impossible. Light entered my life once more, dim and fragile.
But the outside darkness grew.
Every week a new report from Legolas came, detailing dangers of the forest and numbers of travellers or our own citizens killed by the monstrous spiders. I loved my forest and loved its inhabitants, but I began to believe that the spiders were not of those world at all. To help where I could, and to satisfy my growing need of unleashing my frustrations, I led hunting parties into the spiders' dens to exterminate the living and destroy the eggs. But it seemed that for every spider we killed, three more filled its rank. This problem I pondered often.
My wayward thoughts were drawn to the present, where I sat in a crowded room, chilled and lethargic. Councils bored me, especially now Thranduil refused to take action against the source of the darkness. Dol Guldur had stood unchallenged in the forest and was seeking to expand its influence, but the king would not hear of a confrontation. But still we counseled, thought I had long seen the futility of it.
"The lives of the people are in danger! And what will be the response when half the forest is darkened? Will that be enough to summon the army?" Narya, bless her heart, still fought against Thranduil's isolationism. She had taken my place, as my recent heartache had led to my silence during councils. She was an unlikely ally, but I believed that her shame at being deceived by Sauron long ago had brought her around to a proactive stance.
"We will fight when we are directly threatened," Thranduil said, his tone calm but also of one of long-suffering. I myself was tired of the never-ending debates that solved nothing; I could hardly imagine his own frustration. "Our people are not worth combating a distant threat."
"The threat will not stay distant!" Narya insisted. I saw the king's nostrils flare, and realized that he was losing patience. He was so tightly wound, and I suddenly saw him as others did. He had become proud in his kingship! He would not relent on this point. He did not want his kingdom threatened. It was the only kingdom of elves left in Arda. Elrond and Galadriel had not become monarchs, and the weight of that thought settled on me. But it brought no knowledge, only confusion. Had I been dreaming? Why were we fighting? The voices of Narya and Thranduil swum around me, blurring into a noise that rang in my ears. Why were we not fighting? Whatever it was at Dol Guldur that was bringing evil into my home, it should not be here. It was no longer welcome.
"Stop it!" I cried. My chair scraped the stone floor as I stood, the shrill screech bringing the argument to an abrupt close. Thranduil stared at me, his intimate knowledge of my mind and character perhaps betraying my intent but he said nothing. The other council members looked upon me in surprise; my lack of interest in this meeting had not been hidden. I looked angrily across the tables and chairs to the people assembled. What a lot of stuffed sausages! It was fine enough to want to combat evil and to keep our forest safe, but from this stupid room in this ruddy mountain it was no use at all. "This is ending," I said, my voice dangerously low and not betraying the rising bloodlust in my veins. "I will not longer sit here in a fancy seat while those blasted spiders kill the Firstborn of Arda. Yes, Narya, our lives are worth more."
"That is not the point of argument," Thranduil cut in. "We are merely deciding -"
"No," I said. My voice was acid as I turned to my husband. "You are deciding nothing. I, however, have made a decision." I leaned across the table to retrieve a small knife used to sharpen quills. A shudder of anticipation was inhibiting the council members. Apprehension, perhaps fear of what I might do. I took a deep breath. "I am Caradel, Queen of once Greenwood, and I am firstborn of Finrod Felagund, heir of Finarfin. My father ruled Nargothrond, and my grandfather was High King of the Noldor. My ancestors have spilled much blood to defend this land, and I will not betray the sorrows they have endured so that I may stay safe in this stone hall. I will not longer deny my heritage." My voice rose, and I imagined the walls vibrating with the power of my words. Thranduil was halfway out of his chair, surely intent on stopping me. But I would not let him. "As is my birthright, I will command this fight. In the name of Eru and by my blood spilled -" I drew the knife across my palm, spattering the table and strewn papers with red splotches. "- I will see this Evil ended. I call for volunteers to march with me one fortnight from now to expel the foul Presence from my beloved Forest evermore." My fingers curled around the cut in my hand, and I dropped the knife with a clatter that echoing in the deathly silent room.
Everyone else stood at once, shouting at me either support or declarations of my insanity, and accusing Thranduil for his allowing me to be so foolish. I remained silent, unwilling to address any concerns. My mind was made; whether it was to victory or defeat I would do my duty as protector of this land. My resolve was not shaken when the king grabbed both of my arms, bringing my face close to his snarling one, his eyes filled with both rage and terror.
"You stupid girl!" His fingers dug into my skin, though in my adrenaline I could barely feel him. "Impulsive beyond measure, absurdly notioned, foolhardy -" His voice broke, and I saw fear clouding out his anger. Releasing one of my arms but retaining a firm grip on the other, he turned to the others. "Silence!" he roared, and the room quieted, though the council members were clearly unfinished with their accusations. Briefly I wondered what he might say. But he nothing was forthcoming, and turning swiftly, he half-dragged me from the room.
This is concluding a lot faster than I originally intended, but at least I'm writing again :) I love all of my reader and reviewers who have kept poor Caradel alive. Thank you. Thank you.