Chapter 10: The Feast of Starlight

All day she had been unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched; but when she looked around she was never able to catch anyone looking at her. She was sure Thranduil had set someone to observe her, though why, she could not imagine. Nat had noticed her paranoia, and after a few minutes of surreptitious observation had caught sight of her watcher. 'He is short for an elf, with darker hair than most Mirkwood elves. He did not see that I saw him.'

So Thranduil really was having her watched. When Nat asked her why, she was unable to answer.

She and Nat had spent the day assisting Elladan and Elrohir and other elves to prepare for the Feast, setting out tables and chairs, and hanging lanterns. The work had distracted her from her growing sense of urgency and uncertainty, and despite herself she began to share some of Nat's excitement at the thought of the celebrations which awaited them.

Now Astrid walked through the palace doors with Nat at her side. Elladan and Elrohir were not with them; they would be arriving with their father and the other Elf-nobles. Now that the orcs and spiders had been dealt with, the people of Mirkwood were free to leave and enter when they wanted – all but her.

Nat told her that her follower had now slipped away. As she felt the cool air of evening on her skin Astrid briefly imagined flouting Thranduil's orders and making her escape. But his scouts would find her in a matter of moments. Sighing, she put aside all thought of escape for the night.

The Feast would take place in a clearing a short walk from the palace, in an area that the spiders had long stayed clear of. A great stream of elves walked with them, smiling and talking among themselves. She forgot how out of place she was; their joy was infectious.

As she neared the clearing, a voice called out to her.

Astrid turned to see the elf-woman who had guided her to Thranduil's throne room. The elf reached Astrid's side and gestured for her to continue walking with her.

'I have seen you about the Halls; you are learning to navigate them well. I am so glad you are staying to see this, our most beloved of celebrations.' The elf smiled; her simple beauty was breath-taking. 'I am Tauriel, one of the King's guards. One of the lesser-ranking ones, I should add. I have not been in his service long.'

Astrid found herself smiling back. 'I did not manage to thank you yesterday for your advice to me outside the throne room. Perhaps you thought me foolish for asking such a question, but I was nervous, and perhaps more than a little afraid.'

'Many are; where Thranduil is concerned.' Her smile could only be described as mischievous.

They reached the clearing. Here Astrid noticed that the general mood was somewhat sterner – heavy with the weight of recent losses. Tauriel informed her in a low voice that four Mirkwood elves had yesterday been killed by spiders.

Yet mourning could not diminish the glade's beauty. The leaf-strewn grass gleamed white in the starlight. Silver lanterns hung from the trees surrounding the glade, and four long tables with benches were set up around a large rectangular area. On the tables were beautiful arrangements of summer's last flowers and the first of the autumn berries. Today marked the last day of summer; autumn's presence could be felt everywhere. But perhaps the clearing's most beautiful adornments were the elves themselves, moving silently through the twilit evening, their hair streaming, their robes seeming to catch the light of the stars, their pale skin glowing with their anticipation of the night's festivities.

'There will be dancing later,' said Tauriel, restless. She too was eager for the Feast to begin, despite her sadness over the loss of her comrades. A moment ago she had been gazing upwards at the stars with pure awe. 'We Silvan elves have many dances known only to our kin – you are very fortunate to witness them. There will be dances of Imladris, too, I wager.'

'Does everyone dance?' As she spoke Astrid felt Nat look at her with curiosity, and wondered if something in her voice had betrayed her.

'The king never dances. Neither does Legolas, his son. I have heard Elrond Peredhil and his sons never dance, either.' She grew sad. 'Like Thranduil, Elrond grieves for his wife - though he lost her much more recently. It was only fifteen years ago that she sailed for the Undying Lands after she was tortured and tormented at the hands of servants of Sauron.'

Astrid's mind was racing. Fifteen years – surely it must have been the departure of his wife that had led Elrond into Harad, into the Tombs… She thought of the stranger across from her in the cell, his gaze unreachable, lifeless. Something in her chest pained her.

Again she felt Nat watching her too closely for comfort.

A hush descended. All the elves rose as a group of elf-lords now made their way towards the high table, Thranduil at their head. Just behind him were Elrond and a grim elf-prince who could only be Thranduil's heir, Legolas. Elladan and Elrohir were in the midst of the group. All wore robes of cloth that looked almost like water; so fine and silken was its material. Thranduil wore a crown made of red leaves and autumn berries, marking the change from summer to autumn. A silver circlet rested above Elrond's brow.

As Astrid watched him take his place at Thranduil's left side she felt how far he was from her – not merely in physical distance but in station and experience. He belonged to another world. And yet did he belong here? This place was not Rivendell, the home he had once spoken of with such longing.

Elrond was speaking quietly to the elf-lord on his left, but as she watched him he glanced up at her and seemed to falter in mid-speech. Last time she had seen him his eyes had been grave as he regarded her, his face far above hers as he sat on horseback. She had not known how to read that look – she was not sure how to read him now.

For the occasion she had loosened her hair so that it fell freely around her shoulders. Her simple dress was flowing and white, tied loosely at her waist with a cord of silver, her only ornament.

They were looking straight at each other.

Then Elrond's companion spoke; and he turned away, not looking in her direction again.

Astrid glanced away – and saw Nat quickly turn from her, a little knowing smile on his lips.

Before she could say something – she hardly knew what – Thranduil began to speak. His face was hard as he spoke of their recent losses, giving the names of those who had died, and counselling their families to take consolation that their deaths had been brave. As the king continued to speak, Astrid let her eyes wander over the elf-lords at the high table, wondering who each of them were. She had heard Glorfindel was among them, and could not quite believe that another figure of legend was present. As she glanced at Legolas he suddenly looked in her direction, his eyes narrowed in something like loathing. She blinked and looked away quickly. What had she done to deserve such a reaction?

Thranduil now raised his glass in solemn salute. 'We will honour the fallen tonight.'

The first song of the evening was of the Elves' first sight of the stars. It was sung in Sindarin, as were all the songs that night, but she and Nat sensed enough of its meaning to listen in silent awe. Tauriel left soon afterwards to take up her post as a guard for the first part of the night, and she and Nat passed the first few hours of the Feast in companionable cheer. Often she sensed the elf-prince, Legolas, watching her coldly. She wondered what his father had told him.

The general mood of the elves lightened perceptibly as the Feast went on. Good spirits became high spirits, aided by Thranduil's free-flowing Dorwinion wine, said to make even Elves sleepy – though they had not yet drunk enough to grow weary.

Sometime close to midnight the dancing began. She and Nat watched the dancers, silent with awe. There was something predatory about the way the Mirkwood elves moved, something savage and dangerous in their grace.

Later a few of the elves of Rivendell rose to give one of their own dances, something much graver but no less beautiful. Elladan and Elrohir did not join them. Neither did Elrond.

Mostly the elves danced alone, but briefly they came together in pairs, moving with such harmony that she felt an ache in her chest.

Suddenly the music changed, growing lively and joyful, and elf after elf rose to their feet, joining the hastily formed rows and clapping and turning in time with each other. Tauriel appeared at Nat's side and pulled him to his feet. 'Come, young Nat. You must dance this one with me.'

She led him to the end of a line and helped him through the steps. Astrid laughed in amazement as he quickly picked up the steps, not matching the elegance and precision of the elves but certainly matching their energy.

'He is a natural,' proclaimed a voice behind her. Elladan and Elrohir had left the high table to keep her company.

The music was infectious and she found herself tapping her foot. The cheer had spread even to the high table, where Thranduil and his son watched with a hint of mirth, and Elrond, too, was smiling. He had not looked at her since he had first arrived, but now as she watched him his eyes moved to her for a moment, before he looked away.

The song ended and the dancers returned to their seats, breathless. Nat was flushed and grinning from ear to ear as he dropped onto the bench in-between Astrid and Elrohir.

'I did not know you had been taking lessons, young master,' teased Elrohir.

Nat frowned in surprise. 'Lessons? What do you mean? I –'

'If there were no lessons, perhaps you have some elfin blood I did not know of,' laughed Astrid, joining in. 'How else did that dance come so naturally to you?'

Nat squirmed a little in his seat, for once at loss for words.

'Perhaps it was your teacher,' put in Elladan. 'She certainly seems to have enjoyed giving tutelage.'

At that moment Tauriel looked across at Nat, grinning, and winked at him. The teasing continued for quite some time after that, until, taking pity on him, Elrohir suggested a walk. 'I for one have grown weary of sitting.'

They all went with him and walked around the edge of the clearing, stopping after a full circuit and standing in the shadow of the huge trunks, elf-lanterns swaying gently just above them. Harp music floated on the air, layered with the clear notes of flutes, and the sounds of creaking branches and rustling leaves. While Elladan and Elrohir told Nat in hushed voices of the time when Thranduil's father, Oropher, had moved the Greenwood elves northwards, resenting the intrusions of Galadriel and Celeborn into Lórien, Astrid closed her eyes and leaned back against a tree trunk, feeling more at peace than she had felt in a long time.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that Elrond was standing with the twins and Nat, smiling at something Elladan was telling him. After a while, Elladan and Elrohir took Nat to go and watch one of the elves relighting some of the lanterns, and Elrond came to stand beside Astrid. He did not speak for a long while, gazing across the clearing, watching Lindwen, the most skilled and gifted singer of all Sindar elves. Her hair glinted like silver, and her voice cast a spell over all who heard it.

'I have heard many singers among my people,' Elrond said quietly. 'Few have her gift.'

She hesitated. 'Tell me; what does she sing of?'

His eyes grew distant, grave. 'She sings of the meeting of Beren and Lúthien, whose love was doomed from its very beginning, because it could not withstand the Gift of the Second Kindred.'

She held her breath. 'You mean death.'

His voice was low, almost repentant. 'Yes.'

She felt cold suddenly, wrapping her arms around her middle. She felt him glance at her, but he said nothing.

The shadows swayed softly around them, dappling his profile and her bare forearms. Lindwen's song had ended. Her voice and the flute had fallen silent. Astrid could hear nothing but the stirring of the leaves, and the beating of her own pulse. Her heart caught painfully in her chest. Words rose in her mind, but she did not dare give them voice.

I have thought of you so often. Did you ever think of me?

He looked back at her, growing wary, seeming as though he were about to speak.

Then Nat returned, with Elladan and Elrohir in his wake, and the moment passed.

As Nat started to tell Astrid about the peculiar lantern-light, Lindwen began to sing again, and all those gathered in the clearing fell silent. This was the song that had been composed specially for the occasion, the one they had all been waiting for. She moved forwards, the starlight glinting in her hair and on her bare arms. She was smiling, a smile both of joy and sadness.

The words were in Sindarin, and yet the sound of them made gooseflesh rise on Astrid's arms and neck in a rush of understanding. She forgot to breathe, the whole world seeming to fall still. Even before Elladan's whisper reached her ear, she knew. 'She sings of the Silmarils, the most perfect jewels ever made.'

She glanced at Elrond; he was gazing at her, like her transported to a dark cell underground, in a land far away in both distance and culture.

She remembered. She remembered it all. Her unknown urgency, her meaningless dread – she knew now what it was.

She felt suddenly weak and exhausted.

He was at her side. They were not quite touching but she felt his strength and it sustained her.

'I must speak with you. Alone,' she said; her voice audible only to him.

'I cannot leave the Feast.' His voice was yet lower than hers. 'Thranduil would take offence.'

'I know. But tomorrow morning – as soon as you can, meet me in the library where we first met.'

He inclined his head. 'I will be there.'

She heard no more of the song, instead seeming to hear only the thrumming of the blood in her veins. At last the song ended, and she applauded blindly along with the rest. Then she turned to Nat. 'The wine has defeated me. I must return to our chambers now or shame myself by falling asleep with my head on the table.'

He did not look convinced. All day he had been worried about her, sensing her doubt and indecision and now he knew at once that something vital had occurred.

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, smiling. 'You need not come with me. Elladan and Elrohir will keep you company, I am sure.'

He saw that it was useless to argue and so he gave in; but she could tell that tomorrow she would have no choice but to answer his questions. With a rush of fondness she kissed him and bade him goodnight.

She fled down the path leading back to the Halls, the way lit by burning braziers, her mind full of plans and anxieties about her discovery. Her one consolation was that she had not lost much time after all: only two days had passed since she had fallen into the river. And the broken bridge meant her pursuer's progress would be slowed. But would it be enough?

She had barely covered a hundred yards when a voice called to her from the shadows and she turned to see the person she least wanted to encounter.

'Tell me, when did you first meet Lord Elrond?'

She fell still, her hands clenching unthinkingly. She turned to face the king. 'Yesterday morning, when he summoned me to him after –'

'When did you meet him before?'

His voice seemed to persuade through tone rather than sense. It held an easy power that oppressed her spirits; each word he spoke assumed the right to be obeyed and trusted.

She said nothing, only meeting his gaze stonily. She wished he would let her go. She needed to be alone, to reflect.

A cold light shifted on his face. 'He watches you. More often than even he knows.'

Still she did not speak, though her insides had turned to ice.

Thranduil smiled, his eyes cold, his head tilting slightly to one side. 'My suspicions began from the very first time he spoke of you. But I paid them little heed until I saw you together yesterday. I began to wonder what an elf-lord could find at all interesting in a mortal of no special rank, wealth or beauty.'

She could not help it; she laughed out loud.

For a moment his eyes went black. Then he was impassive once more, but for a scornful little smile on his lips. 'I admit; I was almost intrigued by you as I sought to see what Elrond found so fascinating. I had other reasons for watching you. I do not lightly admit strangers into my kingdom.' He was silent for a while. She thought she saw something guarded in his face. Could he consider her a threat?

His brows lowered. 'And now I think I begin to see.' He drew closer, chilling her. 'You hide it well, but you cannot hide it from me. You betrayed yourself in your reaction to Lindwen's song. The Silmarils of Fëanor; you have been touched by the purest of all lights; it has marked you.' His eyes grew almost hungry. 'None who have seen that light can forget it.'

His voice dropped low, intense and hypnotising. 'Now tell me truthfully: where did you first meet Elrond – and I do not mean on the banks of the Black River.'

She felt a wave of weariness.

'That is not my story alone to tell. And even if it were, I would not share it with you.'

His thick eyebrows rose high, then fell as his eyes turned cold as steel. His voice was brusque. 'You may have no choice.' Suddenly he stepped closer, gripping her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. She did not flinch from his inspection. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

He spoke with incensed perplexity. 'Why are you here? I thought you a spy from Harad but now I find I do not know what to think.'

So he had thought her a spy! She was angered, though not much surprised. Somehow she held her tongue.

His voice was soft, inescapable; she felt the chill of the night deepen around her. 'You are out of your depths, mortal. Your life is as fleeting and meaningless as a mayfly's is to a dragon. I almost pity you.'

The heaviness of the darkness between the trees, the vastness of the forest all around, became unbearable.

He let his hand fall and stepped away. 'You may keep your secrets for now, Astrid of Harad, but know this: nothing remains hidden from me for long.'

Then he was gone, vanishing into the shadows, his robes pooling behind him into the darkness.

She drew in a shuddering breath before going on her way.

A/N: I'm finding that Thranduil makes a very good character to end scenes and even chapters with! Conversations with him seem to lead to the issuing of ultimatums, creating choices and conflict – and drama.

I'd like to say thank you to everyone reading this story – your support keeps me inspired. I wasn't expecting to build such a following for this story, so thank you :) Please leave a review; I'd love to hear your thoughts.

I couldn't resist mentioning the uncomfortable history between Thranduil's father and Galadriel. (It's only mentioned very briefly, and I found it completely by accident). I always find it amusing because Elrond is of course Galadriel's son-in-law. Thranduil, however, was willing to allow Galadriel to visit him, and even gave Celeborn some newly-shadow-free forest after the events of The Lord of the Rings.