.oOo.
Chapter 3 – Creeping shadows
.oOo.
Summer was at its best. She had forgotten how the world outside the Elvenking's halls felt. She relished in the feel of the warm sun on her face. The way the trees would caress her thoughts and speak of what had happened since they had last spoken to each other. It was a good day indeed to be outside.
Holding her basket close on her arm, she meandered down into the market. Though most bought their wares straight from the supplier or simply grew and made them themselves, the Sindar had introduced the idea of keeping shop once every week in the middle of the capital. It had turned out to be quite the success. Even the Silvans living close to the King's halls visited, though most only did because it became a good source for palace gossip.
"Lona!"
She winced, hearing the familiar voice of Rhiwsûl. She gathered her wits about her, steeling herself for the looming conversation.
"Rhiwsûl," she greeted, voice flat.
The tall but muscular male drew to a stop beside her. His long 'free' braid swinging behind him like dark rope. Seeing the lack of warrior braids in his hair, she groaned inwardly.
He is off duty then.. I suppose that makes things far worse, she thought sourly.
"Lady Lona," he brought her hand up to his lips. "Fancy seeing you here in our midst. The King finally let you out of his halls?"
"I am free to leave whenever it pleases me," she said curtly. "I do not need the King's permission to do so."
"Forgive me, I did not mean to anger you." The elf turned his forest green eyes on her, that familiar shrewd glint in them raised goosebumps on her skin. "One only tend to think that something holds you bound to those caves, since you seldom visit the woods anymore."
He circled her slowly as she pushed forward on her way, eager to be rid of his company. But as usual he was a hard elf to shake. "How is his Majesty? I cannot seem to get a time for an audience."
"The King is healthy and whole, as far as I know," she said carefully, wary of the lurking darkness in his eyes.
"It is good to hear," Rhiwsûl sneered, straightening to his full height again as he settled into step beside her. Elves were beginning to notice now, and it simply would not do to draw unnecessary attention to themselves. He continued leisurely, his head moving from stall to stall.
"And what about the princeling?" he asked darkly. His eyes boring into her and surveying her every move.
Lona stopped in her tracks, her face hardening. "Do not presume that I have any obligation to tell you anything, Rhiwsûl. Do not drag me into your dubious affairs." Her eyes flashed, steel working its way into them. "I have had enough of the likes of you. Keep your trouble to yourself and be gone."
"Feisty," he drawled behind her, trailing her as he watched her stiff form continue down the road. "I wonder what your father would say about you displaying such behavior towards your kin."
"You are not my kin," she spat back at him, no longer bothering to hide her revulsion with the other elf. Her insides were crawling and she was sure that he was leering at her. She could feel his stare at the back of her head. Lona hastened her steps as much as possible without causing visible concern. She needed to get to the market and fast. Crowded places had always deflected Rhiwsûl's advances. Especially since doing something out in public was impossible.
A hand gripped her 'free' braid and she jerked into a stop. She muffled the cry from the pain, but she had to struggle to push down the ensuing tears. Her breath stuck to her lungs, her body too stiff to move.
Heat moved over her neck as his head leaned down by her ear, whispering, "I am more kin to you than that pompous King of yours and his followers."
Poison dripped off his tongue and the dark drawl made her heart beat in a furious panic. He smirked as he saw her pale face, knowing what effect he had on her."You will do well to remember that, Lona."
She almost stumbled when he released her. The tension in her body driving her forwards and as far away from him as possible. As she fled, she cast a glance behind her. Rhiwsûl stood unmoving where she had left him. Lean body relaxed as if he was simply pausing on his stroll. But his head held high and his eyes dark with malice. She shivered at the sight, the memory of his hand around her braid shaking her deeply.
It was a hateful feeling. Fear.
Flitting between the stalls and putting as much space and matter possible between them, she could finally feel her heartbeat return to normal. But it would never be normal. Because Rhiwsûl would never be a normal elf.
'I wonder what your father would say about displaying such behavior towards your kin.'
She gripped the handle of her basket tight, her hands shaking with the force.
Lona needed to get out. She needed the open air of the wood. Decided, she dodged stalls and vendors, even the elves' futile attempts to try to stop her for conversation.
She could not. Not now.
In minutes, she had left the market and the sparce flet housing around the Elvenking's Halls. Only the high trees of the wood surrounded her now and she felt her breath return to her. She bathed in the peace that only the wood could offer her. A simple touch to the trunk of a large oak let her know she was safe. No one had followed her. She collapsed beside it. Allowing its comforting presence sooth her.
It was not until minutes – hours? – later that she realized where her feet had led her. Her eyes watered as she sat beneath the tree, her eyes staring at the small brook bubbling down the slope, dancing between trees. Looking up, she watched the thick trunk and heavy bows above her.
Their tree.
It had grown thick and sturdy, and sported patches of green lichen hanging from its branches. It had changed over the years just like she too had changed. But at its core, the whisper of its heart was still the same sing-song of leaves and birds and joy. So much laughter.
Have you missed me?
She rested her hand against a thick root that protruded from the ground, the twisted limb almost cradling her form where she sat. As if sensing her nostalgia the oak started singing to her. Years and years of tales: Of days leaping over the bubbling brook. Of dancing heartily beneath its bows. Of that first shy kiss hidden while nestled high up in its branches, with only the sky, the birds and the trees around them their witnesses.
I have missed you... I miss him.
The bows bent in the wind, causing rustles of leaves that gave her comfort. Its dancing branches moved as if to agree with her.
You miss him too.
She leaned back more firmly, wedging herself in between the roots like a child sitting at the feet of her mother. Her hair caught on the rough bark for a moment as she slid down the trunk and made her laugh. A soft, tinkling laughter she had not uttered since she last visited this place. It made her feel young and brave and ready to take on the world again. She felt renewed.
The magic of the wood had touched her once again, and her Silvan blood rejoiced at feeling the link. She had missed this. She missed her old life.
Blinking up at the dancing canopy she let her thoughts wander. She relived the centuries, turning back time until her being turned attuned to the forest itself. She breathed as the forest breathed, and all that mattered was the connection. Because the trees were old but wise; their memories long and unforgiving. But these trees had shared her life, her joys and sorrows. She was not lonely anymore for the forest kept her company.
Thus, despite how bad the day had started she found herself smiling. Because no matter how dark it was around her, as long as she kept the memories alive, light would continue to live in her heart.
The dark could not reach her.
.oOo.
"Is something wrong Lady Lona?"
She froze in the door opening to the servants quarters. She had returned late, far later than she had expected to. Now, she regretted her little escape out of the palace. It had cost her far more time than she had to spare.
"No, everything is fine." Lona could tell that the young servant girl, who was preparing herself for the evening service, did not believe her. Looking down on her dirtied clothing, she saw the leaves and other forest remnants that had found their way onto her attire. It would make her suspicious as well to see her in such a state.
Lona smiled, trying to reassure the girl, "I took a walk though the wood on my way back."
The girl, a Sindar girl who served the King's sister usually, cocked her head in disbelief but nodded and left without further enquiry. Probably blaming her exterior on the Silvan wild ways again. It did not bother her though. Lona would let the girl think what she want, not wishing to go into details with a simple serving maid.
Quickly entering her rooms, she changed into a clean dress. She would have liked to bathe to remove the feel of Rhiwsûl off of her, but a simple wash up would have to do. Her hair was a mess, but one easily fixed. Soon she was striding determinedly down the corridors, eyes fixed on her goal.
"Lona!" Faelwen said surprised once she entered the kitchen. The room was a blur of motions, aides and cooks moving all over the place. She was surprised to see that the chaos had been somewhat contained and that the dinner preparations were well in motion by the time she got in.
Donning one of her spare aprons that hung on a peg fastened to the kitchen wall, she checked the different dishes already being prepared. The soup for the starter was on time. The stock flavorful but not too salty. She nodded in approval to her assistant cook attending it, the woman bloomed happily at her praise.
"Lona," Faelwen said as she came up and offered her a piece of the bread she had baked. The scent of fenol caught her attention, and Lona broke of a piece. Nervously, Faelwen watched with bated breath as she sampled the fluffy bread, "How is it?"
"It is very good. You made this yourself?"
"Yes. Tanna said that it would suit the fish," Faelwen said, not about to steal all the glory for herself.
"Did she?" Lona questioned with delight. "Well she is right."
"Lady Lona, please come and check the fish seasoning."
She moved across the room to where the fish was being prepared in long trays with salt, lemon and other spices. Tanna stood by the large sink, cleaning the scales of the trout they had gotten from trade with a small fishing community the elves called Esgaroth. Checking the consistency of the mixture, Lona added just a bit more fennel into the seasoning trays.
"You look tired," Tanna said softly, her hands working a knife swiftly to scrape of scales.
Lona inclined her head, "Nothing to worry about. It has been a long time since I have been outside, the extra walking must have taken its toll on me."
Tanna glanced at her, not really convinced but decided to let the matter rest. She watched transfixed for a moment as Lona wielded the fillet knife elegantly, the strokes even and precise. It was a dangerous tool, one Tanna had yet to master properly herself. Lona had always imparted the importance of being careful when filleting, since a slip of the hand could cause you serious harm with the sharpness of that razor-like blade.
Cautious as to not startle her, Tanna asked, "You did not, perhaps, meet Rhiwsûl outside the palace?"
She watched Lona pale, her hand ceased its motions, leaving the knife hand trembling faintly. But her shock was quickly overcome, her stunned face effortlessly smoothed over to hide her distress from view. Tanna, though, knew what she had seen. Lona's reaction was understandable, in her opinion. Tanna herself had not had many good experiences with the infamous Silvan captain either. But he had always been polite in her company, if not a bit cold.
"Why do you ask?" Lona asked, her voice wavering slightly as a sign of her increasing nerves.
Tanna set a hand on Lona's forearm, steadying her. "He came by the servants quarters this morning asking for you. You know he rarely ventures into the halls. What cause could he possibly have to seek you out?"
"Nothing good, that I assure you." For once Lona was glad that most of the younger elves were blissfully unaware of Rhiwsûl's true nature and the part he had to play in their society. Even the King, as knowledgeable and well-informed as he was knew little about his workings, especially since the elf was ever careful not to show his intentions around Galion. If Lona's father had not been an old acquaintance of Rhiwsûl, she was sure she would have been as oblivious to it all as most others.
"Well, I find it disquieting the way he seems to think he can barge in here and ask for you as if he is calling a simple serving girl." Tanna huffed indignantly, "He may be a higher captain of the guard, but he is not nobility."
"Trust me," Lona said in a calming tone, sounding far more sure than she felt at the moment. "He will not be seeking me out again. Rhiwsûl quickly looses interest in such things."
"If you say so.." Tanna replied, still trying to forget those demanding cold eyes he had leveled her with. The elf was frightening, in a predatory sense. Like a wild animal stalking its prey. Luckily, Rhiwsûl rarely bothered with elves of lower tribes. His interest in Lona was understandable, since she was heir to her mother's tribe, one of the Three. But Tanna did feel a bit uneasy to have the elf sniffing around their living quarters. It was most queer, even for an elf of his stature.
Returning to her work, they continued in silence. Faelwen's happy tune lingered in the air, a jolly song about the ancient Lord of the Wood, his princess and the magical adventures they had together. Lona smiled, wondering how such a childish tune could be so uplifting. Then again, most of the workers would join in on the refrain, laughing afterwards at their own foolishness. Only Thalion shook his head in his corner, a reluctant smile on his face.
.oOo.
She shooed the servers away as she portioned out the last of the desserts. Dinner service was the most hectic part of the day, and with the increase of guests in the Realm due to the Starlight festival, she needed all hands on deck to get everything out in time.
Lona took a last scrutinizing look over Tanna; her green dress was elegant, her serving apron pristine and clean-cut. Her hands were clean and her face bright as she stood before her.
"How do I look?"
"Almost perfect," Lona said, before spinning her around and adjusting her braids. The long blonde hair that usually cascaded freely down her back was tied up at the moment into delicate braids. It would not do to have her hair interfering with her work. Lona straightened the braids, pulling some of the hair back but still allowing most of it to frame her youthful face. "There, fit for the King's table."
"Lona," Tanna hesitated, before asking for the third time that evening, "Are you sure its a good idea assigning me the King's table?"
"Don't worry," she said, "Thalion serves the King as usual. You will simply oversee matters, so that all is organized. It is a simple, but very important task."
She held the girl's shoulders for a second, her face turning soft with a sudden surge of maternal pride seeing the determination on Tanna's face. "I know I can trust you. This is my thanks to you, Tanna, for keeping the kitchen running."
The assistant cooks did not come to work until three hours before service, and only her aides were present to do the more menial tasks of prepping the kitchen. Faelwen had pulled her aside earlier and told her how Tanna had assumed leadership of their small group, since she was the oldest of her aides, when Lona did not return in time. Thus, it was thanks to Tanna's quick thinking that everything was done according to schedule. Her stepping up and assuming responsibility had spared Lona a lot of grief today.
Thus, it felt only right that Tanna would get the honor of organizing the King's table today. Normally, Lona or one of her more senior cooks would take care of it. Serving the table was not as hard as seeing to it that all ran smoothly. The King was firm on procedure, and it would not do to have their honored guests waiting for food because the servers were unable to serve them all at the same time. Tending the high table was an honor indeed, one Lona thought Tanna could manage easily if given the chance. She was a responsible elleth, one she had taught as her own over the years. It would be no trouble for her and hopefully, Tanna would grow more sure of herself as a result of tonight.
Tanna visibly glowed at the praise, and with a nod, she slipped out of the kitchen, heading towards the corridors leading to the upper halls, where the evening feast was to be held.
Lona stood watching the door, her face smiling as she let the silence of the kitchen surround her.
"The grow up so fast."
.oOo.
"You would return for me?"
"Of course. I do not think anything less than a royal order or a balrog could stop me from seeing you."
Tanna lowered her head, glad that she had kept her 'free' braid loose today. The blonde curtain easily hid her burning cheeks from view, a small comfort as the rest of her struggled to keep the joy from taking over. It also served another task. Calanon had admitted during one of their past encounters that he liked her hair loose. It was the reason she tried to keep it so most of the time, but kitchen work was not always favorable to such a hairstyle. Thus small braids encased most of it, making it manageable but still like a stream of silver down her face and shoulders.
"Come now," Calanon said with a smile, lifting her face with his fingers so that she could not hide from him. "Do I frighten you?"
"Of course not," Tanna spoke softly, her nerves trickling into her voice and making it quiver slightly.
"It is just.." she did not have the words. Her tongue seemed to abandon her at the most important of times. Her hands dug deeper into the flowing fabric of her green dress, conflicted. How could she ask what she wanted?
Before she could decide warm hands settled over hers, loosening their cramp-like hold and pulling them into his own. Calanon hesitated, as he was wont to do whenever he was this close to her. His voice always seemed to fail him when he looked into her blue eyes. But the look on her face told him that she felt as uncomfortable with this as he was.
Why was it so hard to act on his feelings?
"Tanna... I..."
She raised her eyes. Calanon's handsome, kindly face stared down at her. His light blonde hair still hung in their customary warrior braids. They made him look more fierce, more brave than the normally kind soul was. He was a captain, a high member of the guard, but outside of the field Tanna knew that he could be the most caring person there is. Gentle and soft-spoken, a true gentleman.
Tanna had been happily surprised when Calanon caught her on her way to the upper halls. His tall form stood dressed in his captain gear, his sword hanging by his side. The poor elf looked so rushed, but he still took the time to seek her out. To step out of his way to give her a few comforting words and a promise of his return.
It made butterflies dance in her stomach. A warmth had settled in her seeing his adoring gaze and she wished she could always drown in those eyes.
They stood to the side in one of the more sparsely lit intersecting hallways. She could hear the servers moving through the main corridor, carrying trays and jugs to serve in the dining hall. Any minute now someone could happen upon them, so open was their location. Being shy herself, she understood his hesitation.
Still, it was somewhat thrilling, meeting secretly like this. Her mind, ever firmly attached to the ideals of her kin knew that it was more than inappropriate, what they were doing. But not even the promise of a harsh scolding stopped her from wishing there would be something more.
Thus, despite the flutters she felt, she forced herself to relax. Leaning back against the stone wall behind her she watched Calanon silently debate with himself.
What are you thinking?
Tinkling of a bell sounded from the hall, reaching out to the serving staff. Tanna sighed with obvious regret in her eyes. She hated to do this, but time was slipping from their fingers whether they wished it or not.
"I am in charge of the King's table tonight. I cannot delay.." Tanna said, her whole being drooping like a flower left too long in the sun. She had been put in charge on Lona's good confidence. She was expected to perform. She knew of the head cook's call for perfection when it concerned the King's table and it had been a great sign of trust to give such a responsibility to her. Tanna could not let Lona down now.
But...
Tanna bit her lip, the action chasing away some of the fog clouding her mind. She needed to get moving but she could not find it in her to go. Not now when Calanon was here.
A quick clench of her fingers were all the warning she had before Calanon pulled her forward. His arms wrapped around her and held her too him. Tanna didn't dare breathe as she stood wide-eyed in his embrace. Her cheek pressed softly against his shoulder, the smell of soft suede and leather filled her nostrils. A few strands of silky hair brushed against her skin and filled her senses with all that was Calanon; a hint of peppermint and clear, spring woods.
She raised a hesitant hand to cling to his suede tunic. Her heart threatening to beat out of control from the mere proximity alone. But she was not the only one. Because here, in this position she could also feel his heart.
"Can you hear it?" Calanon asked, his voice low but smooth. She could feel the words reverberate though his chest, dancing together with his wild heartbeat. "Every single beat is for you, Tanna."
His fingers combed down through her hair, his head leaning in over her as he shielded her from view of the other hallway as the servants ran past. He took a deep breath to steady himself before saying, "I dare not ask you to wait for me. But I promise that you are the first one I shall seek out when I return."
He could not bear parting from her. It was like cutting a limb from his own body, leaving him empty and missing her smiling face in the quiet hours of the day. When he was assigned a six week long patrol along the southern border he knew he needed to seek her out. He just had to see her once more before leaving. To gaze upon her beautiful face with those blue eyes that seemed to pull him further into them with each glance. To trace that dainty little nose and those oh so soft looking lips. Calanon had tried to muster his courage before meeting her, but all had fled him as he had laid eyes on her. Now he stood before her, bare and vulnerable. Longing for her, but fearing what these strong emotions were doing to him.
"You need not promise me anything," Tanna breathed as she peered up at him, taking in his sharp, masculine features. She whispered quietly, "Because I will be standing by the gate when you return. To wait for you to emerge from the trees. Even if you want me to or not."
His face flushed red at the words, his head leaning just a bit closer.
She was already closing her eyes when the dinner bell starting the feast sounded, followed by the whoosh of the great dining hall doors opening to allow the loud discussions and happy conversations from within to trickle out. Their forms froze, stopping for a second as if to extend their time until their inevitable separation.
Alas, far too soon Calanon reluctantly released her, pulling away awkwardly as she stumbled trying to regain her balance without his steady support. His pleading eyes met hers momentarily and she nodded, reaching out to brush her fingers against his briefly, a small consolation to their longing hearts, before joining the stream of servers into the hall.
In silence Calanon stood as an ever watching shadow behind her as she disappeared down the corridor. His eyes never leaving her form.
Tanna...
.oOo.
"I have drawn your bath, Sire."
"Thank you, Galion." He allowed the butler to help him with his robe. The thick silver fabric was heavy, and he would be glad to be out of it. Dinner had been a sweltering affair, but decorum called for his finer fabrics today. It had been a merry start to the festival, and his elves had outdone themselves preparing for it. "You will convey my thanks to the kitchens. Today's fish was extraordinary."
"I will, Sire." Galion set the robe aside to be taken care of later. Instead helping his lord to step into the bath.
Thranduil sighed in pleasure as the warm water swallowed his skin. It soothed his weary muscles and all tension from dinner left him. The days had been gloomy of late, yet the feast had raised his mode somewhat. But now, when all distractions left him, it once again floated to the forefront of his mind. "The darkness is growing."
"Aye, Sire." Galion fiddled with the braids holding that magnificent whitegold hair together. The strands slipping through his fingers like silk once set free from their confines.
"Am I wrong, to send out troops?" Thranduil's eyes closed, trusting those firm fingers as they wet then washed his hair. "Even if it is weak, I would sooner squash it down now than wait until whatever is festering there has grown too strong to conquer."
Galion remained silent, knowing his place in such matters. The butler was a good listening ear, but he knew that whatever the king entrusted to his knowledge was also expected to be treated with the greatest of care. The king had his advisors, knowledgable elves to run his thoughts with. But at times like these, Galion knew what the king needed the most was to vent.
Thranduil shifted in the large tub, his long legs stretching out as he sank deeper into the waters so that Galion may rinse his hair properly. It was so like his habit, this routine, that he found himself floating in his thoughts more than he would have liked. As it was, only the heaviest thoughts stirred when he was this exhausted.
"How would you feel, if I sent your son out to the south?"
Galion stilled his hands as he washed his King's strong back. "I beg your pardon, my Lord. But I have no son."
Thranduil turned his head faintly to glance at him. "Humor me."
The butler fell silent in contemplation, his hands resuming its scrubbing. The long tresses fell down Thranduil's front to pool at his waist, but the king was too wrapped up in those strong hands on his back to notice. A soft sigh of pleasure was the only indication he was indeed awake, and not sleeping.
At last, Galion seemed to have thought up an answer. "I do not know, my Lord. War always make a parent anxious. If I had a son, I would respect his wishes, but I would also fear what could happen to him."
"And if your king ordered your sons out to war, yet kept his own safe in his palace?" Thranduil's voice ran low, as if a horrid fear had grabbed hold of him. Yet, it soon chilled back into the familiar coldness it usually held. "Would you still offer up your blood without question? Would you give your sons to such a king?"
Galion felt like the answer had already been made for him. For how dare he refuse his king? Yet, in a small corner of his heart he knew that was not what the king asked of him. Thanduil craved an honest reply. Something that his many advisors and captains would not give him.
The king was tense beneath his hands and Galion sensed that this question was of far more weight than a mere hypothetical question. Uncertainty swirled within him, but his silvan blood stirred at the thought of what was asked of him.
Would he send out his children to die for a king that valued his son's life more than those of his own offspring? His eyes closed and a surge of cold anger swept through him at the thought of his hypothetical children – his and Lorna's sons – lying in a pool of dark blood in the forest. Dead due to an order from the crown. For a king that would make no sacrifices of his own.
Galion swallowed, tone raw but controlled as he said in an eerily calm voice, "I honestly do not know, my King."
A dead, dry laugh answered him, resonating against the carved stone walls of the bathing area. It sent chills down Galion's spine and he almost dropped the washcloth hearing it.
A flurry of water splashed over the surface as Thranduil clenched his hand around the soapy bubbles floating before him. His face a blank mask of cold indifference. Yet, something about the way his words sounded told Galion that the calm exterior was perhaps not as honest as it would seem.
"I thought so."
.oOo.
The morning after the feast and the days of the week that followed were emptier than normal, and it took her a moment to figure out what was missing. But it was not until one morning when she caught herself setting two bowls instead of one that she realized it.
Where is that boy?
Days had passed, and while it was not unusual for the Prince to lose his way while wandering the palace, his stomach would eventually lead him down here anyway. Yet, for a whole week, there had been no sign of him. Nor where there any orders for snacks or sweets coming down from the upper residencies. Not even for tea.
She blew on her tea, trying to draw comfort from the familiar scent. It was not often that she prepared flower tea for herself, but somehow she found herself doing it anyway. She skipped porridge, and went straight for tea instead, the liquid calming her uneasy stomach.
Things had been different lately ever since a large patrol left south. That part of the Greenwood was mostly silvan territory, but few lingered there anymore. Unrest lay within those bows and their silvan blood communicated the nervousness of the trees. The old trees would not say what it was that unsettled them so, nor could the elves explain it themselves. But slowly, even the most hard-headed Silvans started to creep north. Something unheard of since the Great Journey.
Even now, the whispers reached the kitchens. Snippets of talk brought down by the servants, who like most Silvans, looked upon the development with a weariness they had not felt for an age. The younger ones spurred the flames, and their elders did their best to contain them. But talk had a tendency to leak despite their efforts and soon, word reached the outside ears as well.
Lona sighed, knowing that these tidings were not going to be looked over by her elders. As part of the Three, she had a responsibility towards her kin. Yet, at times, she wished those who drove these matters took charge before it got too out of hand. The Valar know that there are enough sharks waiting to jump at even the smallest of sparks.
She raised her eyes, when a rumpled Galion entered, his hair still worn loose and his collar unfastened. Lona could tell from the circles beneath his eyes that the previous night had been long-drawn yet he was already up at the bare hint of dawn.
She set her cup on the table, and the sound alerted him of her presence.
"Lady Lona." His fingers hastily fiddled with his buttons, and his cheeks heated as he failed to perform such a simple task under her curious gaze.
She shook her head, steering past him before ordering him to sit. He did, begrudgingly so, muttering about schedules and the like, which caused an indulgent smile grow on her face hearing them. She set a bowl before him drizzled with honey and milk and topped with a generous dollop of apple sauce in the middle.
"Eat."
"Aye, my Lady."
He ate in his usual collected manner, acting like a king partaking in the most succulent feast. It made her smile, knowing he appreciated her porridge more than anything the royals ate. He was a humble Silvan elf and she would not deny it that a part of her was relieved he was like her. There was no need for veils and shallow words between them, they were both servants and yet they did not related to each other as such.
Kindred of my kin.
Even if distant, their families knew each other from the first trees they lived in. The forest had no borders, yet each knew where they belonged. Galion was yet another elf who had been born into the lace work of trees. She could relate to that, as much as she knew that the forest belonged to no one but itself in the end. It was where they dwelled. Where they lived and died. But it had never truly been theirs.
She stared at the back of his head, contemplative.
Lona was still very much chained to this land, and so was her kin. But she was not so deep into the old ways that she believed that they would remain here forever. Powers ruled where they could not, and it was with a hint of relief that she surrendered fate to the Valar. For what could she do should something happen to this forest? If her trees would one day be no more?
Would you journey to the great forest of the West as well, my friend? She thought, worried. Or will you stay by your king until the end?
There had once been a time when she would claim to know Thranduil's mind as well as her own. In those days, the forest had run wild in him as well. Yet, she knew that someday, the sea would call out to him and she sincerely hoped it would. Lingering was something the elves of the west never contemplated, not like the Silvans, because this was not their home.
Yet, Lona knew that there was something more than earth and trees that bound the King to this forest.
Lona feared for the kingdom, should Thranduil not realize what he sought was no longer bound here, but had already made its way west. No kingdom could follow a king who lingered for the sake of a shadow. Perhaps the Sindar would, but not Silvan elves. To them, the past was nothing more than a memory, for them the lives of trees and all living things in these woods continued despite the happenings of time. New life grew and replaced the old. Such was the way, and one day, new life would replace the elves as well.
Hands covered her own, and she blinked when they held them more firmly.
"What dark thoughts have claimed you, my Lady?"
Lona pressed down on his shoulders, feeling the muscle there. He did not look at her, and she adored him for it. She needed the privacy, for she knew that her conflicted thoughts were written on her face. She had promised herself that she would withstand the storm that was building in the palace, the one waiting to pull its victims down into despair. Yet, it seemed impossible to stop every seed of worry from growing.
A long sigh fell through the air and soon her hands were lifted and drawn forward, past his shoulders and into his large hands. The tug had dragged her into a new position of awkwardness. Her apron-covered front pressing against the back of his chair. Yet, it was the touch of those fingers that bothered her the most, the small circles his thumb made on her palm as his fingers clasped around hers.
"Do not listen to what they say, my Lady," he breathed in a way that made her strangely comforted. Galion was always so gentle with her, and she knew why. It made her feel guilty, being unable to offer anything in return. Knowing that her existence was more likely to cause him pain, that to ease his suffering.
"Even idle gossip can hold a grain of truth when all comes down to it," she replied, neither rejecting nor encouraging the hold he had on her.
"The king will not let it come to that." Galion turned her hands, lifting them towards his hair and she gratefully accepted the distraction.
"I no longer know the king," she said ominously, her fingers threading through the strands. The dark tresses were still damp despite the warm air in the kitchen.
"But you trust him." There was no doubt in his words, and it settled like a lump of stone in her stomach. He continued, staring out the window. "I trust him and we both know that it takes a lot for a Silvan to trust easily. Especially those outside of our kin."
She pulled sections of hair and laced them, beginning loose before drawing tighter the further back she went. Her mind worked as her fingers, agile and critical at the same time. Yet, no matter how much she wished to think positively, that niggling worry still bit at her from the bottom of her gut.
Galion had the sense not to press her, and instead relaxed into her hold. His shoulders no longer stiff, but leaning heavily against her middle. He could feel her fingers folding the side parts into the braiding, working deftly and with ease. His eyes closed as he savored the sensation, knowing from the pattern of the braid she was weaving that she would be done much too soon. His breath trembled inside him as the last finishing twist was braided, completing the ensemble. Yet, her fingers lingered, running down the nape of his neck before falling back on his shoulders. Spreading sheets of dark hair with them.
Arranging the tendrils of his 'free' braid, she said, "Yes, I trust my king. Yet, even the strongest tree can waver in the wind and sometimes all it takes is a little push in the right direction to take it down forever."
She straightened, falling back slightly as she went to take his empty bowl, her face grim. "The question is how many trees has to fall before the King notices the state of his forest."
#To be continued...
AN Well, that was that chapter! Hopefully, it doesn't disappoint. Working the plot in my head is the best part, but getting it down in writing without making a big mess of it is far more difficult. Hopefully, the veins are not too spread yet to follow the main storyline.
Next chapter will be a bit more Thanduil. Oh, and what happened to the Prince? Stay tuned...
'til next time,
DR