Keeper, Chapter 3

Awesome response guys, thank you very much!

-XXX-

"Did you hear of Gandalf's visit to court?" Beriana asks nearly a month after the festival.

I frown. "That was some time back, was it not?"

"Yes, but word is only just getting around," she says. We're sitting in the grass near my apple trees, leaning against the trunk of one. The apples are still green, small rocks. In a few weeks time they'll be ripe enough for harvest. I look forward to the cider they'll make.

"Gossip usually goes a bit faster than that, I should think."

She shrugs. "This wasn't as scandalous as Lord Harvil being found in a bush with a scullery maid. After the festival there was quite a lot more news to go around."

"And what did the Grey Wizard say?"

"He was passing along warning of Mordor. Lord Sauron's forces grow. He was urging Oropher to meet with the other elven kings and kings of Men."

"They're building an army," I say automatically.

Beriana glances at me curiously. "Something the prince told you on one of your private jaunts?"

I blush. "Yes. Though, I told you, Beriana, I've not seen him in nearly a month. There is nothing between us."

"I never said as much."

I give her a look. We both burst out into giggles.

Soon enough, I sober. "There is war coming, isn't there?"

Uncertain, Beriana fiddles with her skirt, looking down at the grass. "Ulain says as much." She gazes up at the branches overhead, searching for pieces of sky between the wood and leaves. "There is whisper among the guards that the king will join with Alliance when the time comes. And…" she hesitates. "There is word that a darkness has cast itself over the land of Men."

"Darkness?"

She shakes her head. "No one can say what. Just…darkness."

We lay back in the grass together. Our girlhood has been long gone for some time now, however, I cannot shake the feeling that our true growth is yet to come upon us. War shall test us all..

-XXX-

The messenger comes on one innocently sunny morn, when the early autumn leaves are crisply falling and the day is still warm enough to be pleasant. It is an unexpected visit, to be sure, but I accept him nonetheless. Part of me fears it is a summons from the prince I'm sure I offended at the solstice. Unfortunately, the news is worse. With the growing threat of Sauron's army, all elves living beyond the village surrounding Oropher's underground fortress must temporarily move within palace walls before the week's end. I am far from pleased.

"This is silliness," I tell the messenger scornfully. "There's no cause for me to leave when they're coming from the southern part – I'm not uprooting myself for such nonsense."

"Orders," the youth says, clearly weary from dealing with rural out-of-town elves such as myself. We're an independent sort, I suppose. "Bring whatever you can carry, men can be sent to gather whatever else might need tending to or is too large for you handle. Send word by falcon –"

I wave him off. "No, no, I'll need none of that. I'll come. You may mark me compliant."

"Very good, my lady." He makes the mark with his pencil upon his pad. "By week's end, remember."

"Yes," I sigh.

The report of weir attacks is likely what spurred this abrupt order. A family was killed only a week ago. Even those of the Lake-town knew of it – Rylittle informed me when he came around for another trade. As he counted out his silver pieces he asked me of the elves' reaction to it. Being unaware myself, I could not tell him.

I wait three days before packing. Beriana joins me. She's a terrible packer – if it were up to her, all of my fluffy gowns, jars of honey and fine pottery would be coming with me. My bags couldn't manage as much, and lord knows I should not need any of it. I'll be living with her family for the time being, though in a few short weeks I would move into one of the palace rooms held for such occasions – Dorith and Arhiel could only support me for so long, and the glassmaker's house is a tiny fit for four people.

The bees will be hardest to live behind. I loathe to leave them most of all, though they shall be perfectly content without me. In the nights before my departure, I go outside at twilight to stand among the hives, listening to the melodic buzzing, saying goodbye in my own way. They seem to know what is happening. Each comes to me, landing on my feet, hands, and shoulders, touching down only briefly before alighting into the air again. It's a small comfort.

-XXX-

When the day comes, Beriana and I carry two packs back to the Greenwood. After I settle in, I travel to the palace to make my presence known. There is already a line when I arrive. Grumbling forest-dwellers, no one in this line is happy. I cannot blame them.

"Name?" the clerk asks when I reach the head of the line. They are weary, with little patience left to them after what has likely been a long week of registering ill-mannered forest folk such as myself.

"Honeywell. Caladhiel."

He scans the list. "Of the Northeastern wood?"

"Yes."

A few marks are made. "You will be staying with us?"

"In a month. For the moment I'll be with the Birchbarks."

There is a slight sneer. "Very well. Your quarters shall be prepared in a month's time."

"Thank you." I step back, turning to make my way past the line. The sooner I am free of the depths of the palace, the sooner I can breath again. The darkness of Oropher's underground realm makes me titchy. Claustrophobic.

On my way back up, crossing the initial bridge, I'm surprised by the expressions of all those who pass me. It is as if something just behind me is marvel. I turn as I step onto the bridge, finding Prince Thranduil striding just behind me. I halt, turning to fully face him, dropping into a low curtsy. I wear brown breeches and a loose white tunic with soft boots laced about my ankles, nothing that one would intentionally wear before a member of royalty.

"My prince, you surprise me," I tell the ground.

"Caladhiel. What brings you to my home?" He nears, becoming level with me as I rise. We walk together, the prince a step or so ahead in stride.

"Registering, my lord."

"Ah." He bows his head. "I remember. My father is requiring all outside of the palace's circle to return."

"I am aware," I say evenly. "As I am one of those folk."

He smiles. "I did not think you would be happy to go."

"If my king commands it, it must be for some good. I trust his decision, even if I do not like what I am told to do."

Thranduil's smile widens. "Even if it is not the king, but the prince?"

My mouth opens. "You?"

"My father heeds my counsel. Particularly when it is wise counsel. It was best that all of you remain near for the time being."

We've nearly crossed the bridge. "Then I shall trust it to be wise."

"Where are you staying?"

"With Birchbarks, for the time being. Then I'll move here, within the month. I don't wish to crowd Beriana's family."

He ponders this. "The glassmakers?"

"Yes. I believe one of your guardsmen, Ulain, is quite taken with her." I smile at the thought. My friend is equally infatuated. She'd seen the guard several times since the festival. "And she with him."

"I saw them dancing. They do appear happy together. Where are you going now?"

"Back to the Birchbark's."

We stand at the gates now, my back to the forest. The guards that oversee the post bow readily. Thranduil waves them off.

"I apologize for any inconvenience this must bring you," the prince says quietly. "Being away from your bees…."

I close my eyes. "Yes. It's going to be hard." I open my eyes, smiling tightly. "They will be alright, I am certain. They're very intuitive creatures. And I plan on going out to visit." I glance up at him, as if daring him to forbade me. With the turn of his lips I can see that the thought does not please him. "And it cannot be helped. It is for the best, as you have said."

"Indeed. Should you find yourself in need of any aid…please, do not hesitate to ask me."

"Thank you." I bow. "I shall."

"Please do." He lowers his head. "I shall see you, soon, I expect."

I make to speak, but he is already turning away.

-XXX-

Every morning, I go out to greet the dawn. A few bees join me. I hold my fingers aloft, letting them land. I stroke their fat velvety backs, sighing. Occasionally one will land on my cheek or nose. As if to reassure me that all is well. They will skirt across my skin, softly, humming.

"Do you make much honey?" I whisper. "Do the wildflowers find you well? How fare my apple trees?"

They never answer.

As fall nears and cold approaches, fewer and fewer come, until there are none and I am left alone in the mornings, tucking my shawl against me.

-XXX-

The month goes, and I am soon set-up in one of the guest quarters of the palace. The Birchbarks try to persuade me to stay, but I know that my presence causes undue stress upon the household; it is time for me to go. Beriana comes to help me settle, babbling on about Ulain all the way, and how lucky and glamorous I am to now live in the palace, how I shall be privy to all that goes on. I do not think she quite grasp how vast of a place it is. It's a underground city, vast. I shall have little contact with any royalty, any persons of court – not that I should care to mingle with them.

My room is small, windowless. I hate it. Beriana hangs a tapestry above my bed to make if feel more homey. It's one from my mother's family – a tall hazel tree set against a golden background, bordered by a swirling pattern of blue and silver. But it's not enough – I long for true trees. Sky. Air. To reach that I must walk for ages, through tunnels, over bridges and stairs, past guards.

They say it is not safe for us to venture far out into the forest. I believe them, truly. But that does not mean I do not long for home. Elves do not belong underground.

I take my meals with the Birchbarks or the others who have been forced to reside within Oropher's walls. There are farmers, fishermen, hunters, people whose trade requires them to live beyond our villages and palace. Still, others simply wish for space, distance from others of their own kind. Hermits, I suppose. They're not terribly company. Most are bitter about having to move in. The younger ones are eager, excited for the change – mostly the children of farmers.

I spend my days reading, sewing, or sleeping. I'll visit the Birchbarks, and other friends, take a turn about the village to stretch my legs. I'll go to the glassmaker's shop to watch Dorith shape fine vases and lamps. Beriana and I will stitch together, mending, adding simple flower work to dresses, towels, and the like. Honestly, it's monotonous.

On rainy days I walk near the rivers, deep in the caverns. There are lamps here, and the water is fast but calm. I sit on it's edge, watching the flow. It's tranquil, one of my few favorite places in the palace.

It's not terrible. Simply, not my preferred lifestyle. But, the war cannot last forever. I will be out of here – sometime.

-XXX-

His father's council has grown tense as of late. The pressures of war weigh heavily upon them. Their usual bickering has been waylaid by real arguments of heat and fire. Lives are at stake.

All the while, Oropher sits at the head of the table, silent, pondering, stroking his chin as he listened to both sides. Thranduil alternately admired and despaired of his father's calm demeanor. He should not know how to hold his tongue when surrounded by such fools.

Oropher, despite all of his outward calm, is ill-at-ease. This shall be the biggest skirmish he's ever lead an army into, and he fears Sauron's reach. The union of Men and Elves is impressive indeed, but it is untested. Oropher hesitates to send so many of his young elves to what shall likely be a long and arduous siege. It is why he rides into battle himself, rather than simply sending a group of commanders.

The days leading up to war grow long. Thranduil feels as though he has simply left to wait before they ride out. He should not say that he longs for battle – he does dread it – but it remains always looming over his mind. Too often he seeks quiet with the hopes of clearing his head.

On one occasion he finds Caladhiel in his meditation spot. He'd forgotten that she was to grace their halls. He pauses, remaining in the shadows to observe the maiden. She does nothing remarkable, simply sits. It seems as though she, too, is looking for some solace in solitude.

Feeling generous enough to grant it to her, he slips back up the stairway. Another day, he might speak to her.

-XXX-

He finds me at the river-side one day. Again, caught off-guard, I am ill-dressed for a meeting with a king. My deep pumpkin tunic and fawn-colored breeches are a tad worn. It was not a day I was expecting to see anyone.

"I did not expect to see you, my lord, down here."

"Too dirty for my royal tastes?" he asks, a smiling tugging at his lips. He sits beside me, stretching out his legs. He wears polished black boots and grey trousers, a finely made green waistcoat over a white tunic. Relaxed, for him. "It might come as a surprise to you, but dirt is nearly everywhere, and I am quite accustom to it."

I laugh. "My apologies, my lord."

He frowns abruptly. "I should prefer that we ignore titles when we are as this."

I fold my hands in my lap. "If you find it appropriate."

"I do," he says. His long hair gleams in the dim cavern's light. Bright eyes turn upon me. I must marvel at their clear, crystalline quality, though they make me feel stripped down to the bone. "Indeed. I do. Cala…."

I blink up at him. "I find that we are reaching intimate terms, Prince Thranduil."

"Forgive me," he sighs. "I do wish to better know you, Caladhiel."

"Why ever should you wish to do that?"

"You're not much like the others I've known."

"Others?"

"Dess," he explains patiently.

I draw my knees up to my chest, tilting my head. "Is that what you say to all the ladies?" I accuse playfully. "I don't know if I ought to be offended or pleased by that."

"Pleased, surely." He smiles at me. "You're unusual, aren't you?

"I'm not, really. I am just a superficial and vain as any other young woman you should know, I assure you. Why should you wish to know me?"

"Is there any reason I should not?"

I can think of none, so I change the subject. "Why are you here, my lord?"

For this I receive a reproaching look. He apparently takes this "no-titles" agreement seriously. "You are not the only one within these walls who seeks solitude."

"And yet, I do not find it."

He laughs shortly. "I know you should think me foolish. There are many rooms here, many chambers that I may command. But the water gives me great peace."

With that, he turns his gaze to the water.

Quietly, I inquire, "Why should you be in need of peace?"

A heavy sigh. The prince closes his eyes, allowing me to get a good look at him. His eyes are sunken, slightly, lined with stress. The fully lips are pursed, too-tight. There is an undeniable air of strain about him.

"The war," he says finally.

"Ah."

I am quiet for a time. Finally, I say, "Beriana has said Ulain speaks of increased training. The smiths and armory are working double-time. It must be fast coming. Ulain –"

Thranduil peers at me. "He is going to be deployed, in one of our best battalions."

I stop abruptly. "They're going out? So soon? It has been settled?"

The prince casts an eye around for invasive ears. Finding none, he lowers his voice, leaning in. "War is coming, Caladhiel. My father is sending three battalions out to Dagorlad at the start of autumn to join with the other armies of men and elves."

"And Ulain shall be with them?" Stricken, I gaze up at him. "I must tell Beriana."

"Do," he says. "But do not cause much fuss about it."

A thought suddenly, horribly occurs to me. "Thranduil. You are not going out with them, are you?"

He appears sobered. The lines grow deeper. "Yes. I am. I ride out with my father in a month's time."

"Thranduil," I breathe. "But surely – would not your father hold you back? Should you not stay?"

"I should be with my soldiers," he replies sharply, opening his eyes, pensiveness evaporating. "I should be with the men laying down their lives for Arda. Protecting my people."

"I do not protest," I say soothingly. "I merely fear for you, my lord."

He notes the change in my voice. "I frighten you." It is not a question. A hand extends. I take it up.

"I would not wish to see anyone I care for going to battle, Thranduil. Least of all you or Ulain."

Lips twitching, Thranduil looks at me. A strand of my hair finds its way between the fingers of his free hand. "I have no doubt that you do. Will you champion me, Caladhiel Honeywell?"

"Always, my prince."

-XXX-

Just as Thranduil had promised, the battalions ride out in a matter of weeks. I am privy to Beriana and Ulain's tearful goodbye, among others, as I accompany her on the dawn that they ride out. From across the way, I see Thranduil in full battle regalia – mail, interlocking plates of shining metal embossed with scrolling patterns, his hair tied back and held by circlet, a smaller version of the one his father bears, set with grey stone. He strikes an imposing figure. He meets my eyes briefly, nodding.

We watch them ride out. I hold Beriana as she cries when Ulain passes. Her heartbreak touches me deeply. I lead her back home, supporting her shaking figure all the way, helping her sink into bed. We lay together, I stroke her hair and murmur useless comforts. She wears herself out, weeping, eventually falling asleep near noon.

It is that day I decide to take up healing and follow my people to Dagorlad. The next morning I turn up in the infirmary, ready to take whatever work is given to me.

-XXX-

Hopefully this will give you a better idea of the timeline. We're entering into a time of war, so things are about to get tense.

Less of Thranduil's POV in these last few chapters, but he'll have a bigger voice soon enough.

Thank you so much for your support. Reviews and follows are so greatly appreciated! I try to answer every review, so don't hesitate with any questions or critiques!