Part 6
It was that night when Baradeth found the proper use of the flowers what she had fetched from the sea.
The elleth had been sitting at her new dining table with her writing utensils out, trying her hardest to write a letter to Thranduil. It was difficult, though, trying to put on paper words that felt like they must be uttered out loud.
How does one go about casually asking a king to help them be rid of their curse by having said king spend ten days and ten nights alone with them? Not by writing it on paper, that is for certain.
Baradeth stared at the tall vase of Water Weed—the new name she decided to give the flowers she'd snagged—as she considered what she would tell him.
The tiny white petals, piled on top of one another in a fashion that was similar to pinecones, glistened with a silvery sheen in the water they floated in. There were at least thirty bundles of petals hanging from the thin stem, and it was in seeing those petals that the elleth got a new idea.
There was a way for Baradeth to speak with Thranduil in person.
She could say whatever she wanted to him so long as they both referred to the information on Sauron as something other than what it was. It would have to be something that seemed of importance though, something that would make the king willing to step out of his comfort zone because of how valuable it was.
The flowers could be the valuable item which they would speak about in place of the secrets she planned to tell the king. If it was truthfully important or worthy in real life didn't matter, so long as whoever or whatever was listening in believed that it was. They would use the flowers; act like they had some sort of magic that would be important to the elves which only Baradeth knew how to use. The details of this fake magic wouldn't matter in the slightest.
The elleth grinned at her cunning plan and quickly wrote to Thranduil, explaining how they would be able to speak in person about the matter, so long as he was willing to play a game of pretend.
She folded the letter, slipped it under her door, and went to the second floor to get a bath going. Baradeth's day had been long and adventurous, leaving her quite hot and dirty.
…
Thranduil once again visited Baradeth around noon, but had read the letter in his tent during breakfast.
The king wasn't sure how Baradeth's plan would work, for it was a rather risky thing to try. It would be easy to accidently say "in exchange for Sauron's secrets" instead of "in exchange for your magic flowers". It was unknown to Thranduil exactly who was listening in, or how often, or by what means; he just hoped that neither of them would slip up.
The king of Mirkwood knocked on the door twice before stepping into Baradeth's home.
She was sitting at the dining table, looking almost bored, with two full plates of food across from her. In her left hand she held a book open while in her right she held her chin. Her white eyes flickered up to his, her chin not moving from her hand, and she smiled slightly.
"You're late." She looked behind Thranduil as he closed the door behind him. "And without your son."
"Yes, I figured that our discussion ought to stay between just you and I today, my darling Baradeth."
"Understandable." The elleth sighed and set the book down as she stood up, reaching across the table for the second plate. "But it means more food will go to waste."
She carried it off to the kitchen and dumped the plate's contents into a small garbage bin before scrubbing the dish.
"I'm afraid that I will not be needing my meal either." Thranduil said. He stood next to Baradeth with his own plate in hand, ready to help her wash them. "It might be best if you just stopped cooking for us overall."
Baradeth halted in her cleaning and stared hard at the king, her jaw tightened in frustration. Her pale, scarred hand yanked the plate from Thranduil, dumped the food into the trash, and began to scrub once more.
The king was a bit flummoxed by her irritated actions, but didn't show it.
"I refuse." Baradeth said.
"Why?"
"Because the one day that I don't offer you a meal will be the one day when you decide that you would like to dine with me." She began to dry the plates, huffing at an unrelenting strand of hair out of her face.
"It is not often that I have guests to feed, and I would rather throw away every morsel in my home than be seen as an unprepared host. I might be 'The Evil Creature in the Forest' to others…but to you, I will always be 'Baradeth the Keeper of a Quite Fine Home and Entertainer to Friends'."
The king nodded, understanding that she demanded to keep a remainder of her integrity no matter what others thought of her. It was very clear that Baradeth was still an intelligent and civil creature, no matter how violent at times. He walked away to stand next to the table, noticing a vase of white unrecognizable flowers over the fireplace.
"A long title, don't you think?" He asked casually.
Baradeth chuckled and turned after putting the dishes away, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest.
"Not much longer than King Thranduil, Son of Oropher, Ruler of Mirkwood the Great."
Thranduil raised his brow in surprise at Baradeth's sudden show of knowing who he was.
"You know of my history?"
"I took the liberty of reading up on it, yes."
She walked to the table and held up the book that she'd been reading upon Thranduil's arrival. In elven writing, the cover said "A Retelling of the Kings, Queens, and Other Significant Royal Figures of Old". Baradeth held the large, old book out to the king.
"I picked it up off of an elf some time ago, but haven't read it until just now."
When Baradeth said that she had picked it up off of an elf, the king knew what she really meant and held back a cringe. Thranduil tried not to recall the effigies or dead faces from the archway in her backyard, but couldn't help wondering exactly how much of her home was made from the unwilling contributions of the dead?
"And what did you think of your book?"
"It was…educational, to say the least. You are spoken of on page four-twenty-six."
"You remember the pages mentioning me?" The king smirked proudly as he flicked through the chapters. The elleth chuckled and shook her head.
"But of course, dearest king." Baradeth said with a sarcastic air. "What else would I do in my spare time other than read all about your oh-so fascinating life?" Thranduil glared at Baradeth with no real anger and a slight smile.
"Do you mean to hint that my life is uneventful, Baradeth?"
"I meant no such thing, sire. Now," she continued before he could think of a retort to her teasing, "I suppose that we should get down to business."
"And what sort of business might that be?" The question was an unnecessary one, only asked for the sake of the game they were playing. The elleth walked around Thranduil, lightly taking the book back from his hand and placing it on the shelf where it belonged.
"You came to me asking for information on the enemy." Baradeth boldly said.
"Information which I now know that you do not have." Thranduil quickly said, worried that whoever was listening might become overly suspicious. The daring elleth ignored his words and continued.
"You offered me many things that could be seen as valuable to others—riches, power, solitude, love—"
"Things that you had no interest in." Thranduil said, still slightly baffled that nothing he had offered seemed appealing to her. Why she did not crave for simple, common things was beyond the king, but he did not bother to question it.
"Right yet again, Thranduil. And while I do not have what you came looking for, I do need your help with something. It will not be an easy or pleasant task, so I do not think you would do it out of the goodness of your heart. I do, however, have something that I think you would like to call your own, and I would give it to you in turn for your assistance."
"I am not sure what I would like to hear about first; whatever it is that you want, or whatever it is that you are willing to give."
Baradeth nodded and went to the fireplace to carefully take the almost overflowing vase of Water Weeds.
"Let me make this easier for myself by offering up what you might like to have."
"A plant?" Thranduil asked in an unamused tone.
The king knew that whatever Baradeth said next would be a lie—that the plant she held was nothing but a pretty thing found in an odd place—and had to force himself to act interested for the sake of those who were dropping eaves. He acted interested as though she were speaking of Sauron's great secrets, saying that she knew where he was, what his plans were, where he had come from. In reality, though, she was only telling stories of the flower.
"It is a very rare and beautiful plant, yes. You see, king Thranduil, to others it might be just that; a simple plant that would look nice in a garden. To me or someone with my powers, though…it can grant someone immortality."
The elleth carefully sat the vase on the counter, some water splashing onto her hands and the table as she went.
"We elves already have immortality, darling Baradeth." The king said in a degrading voice, talking to the elleth as if she were an idiot. "I pray that you know that."
"Oh course I know that Thranduil, I'm not daft." Baradeth sighed in frustration. "But I do not mean that it will make you ageless like we already are."
"Then what do you mean?" He asked in exasperation.
"What I mean is that you cannot be killed. Not by any illness or by any wound; this flower, if used with the proper magic, grants you eternal life. And if this is not something you wish for yourself to have, my darling king, then think of what it could make of your army." Baradeth said convincingly.
"Your archers could become unstoppable, your soldiers everlasting fighting machines ready at your beck and call. Never again will you have to train and send off hundreds of elves, only to have them slaughtered. Wouldn't that be wonderful? To let your fighters come back home, safe and sound, to their friends, families, and comrades?"
For a moment, Thranduil forgot that the trade was a ruse. He wondered about her deal with honest curiosity, and actually considered the offer.
It would be great to have less of his men put in harm's path. Always, he felt guilty when he looked upon his fallen soldiers. Always, he wished that there was some way to bring them back, or to at least keep any more from being killed. That his men died for him, for whatever cause he deemed fit, weighed heavily on his mind daily.
The king had blood on his hands; too much blood to wash away or ignore. Would it be nice to have his fighter's lives, even just a hundred of them, ensured until the end of days?
Undoubtedly.
Were this a real trade being offered, Thranduil would take it in a heartbeat, no matter what it was Baradeth wanted from him. It wasn't a real trade, though, and the disappointment plagued the king's heart for only a moment before he recalled the true deal being made at the moment.
Forcing himself to toughen up and forget about the guilt of passed soldiers, Thranduil continued the charade.
"And this can only be done through magic?"
Baradeth sat at the table and looked the flowers over as they floated in their water. It was nearly amusing how dedicated to her ruse the elleth was.
"Through my magic—the magic of one that already has everlasting life. And this can only be done with this specific flower, which grows at the bottom of the Sea of Rhûn. Both things—the plant and people who shall never die—are extremely hard to come by, so I suggest you take my offer here and now." Baradeth paused and eyed the king closely.
"That is, if you want the power of the plant. Otherwise, tell your men to pack up and go, for your presents will no longer be wanted." Thranduil lifted a brow and eyed her closely. Did she mean to force their leave if the king did not accept whatever trade Baradeth was making?
"My darling Baradeth," Thranduil said, "we are friends. Would it really hurt if we stayed just a day more, with or without a trade? Surely, you have not let us stay this long only because of the potential to make a deal."
"I will not waste my time on you, king of Mirkwood, when there is no benefit to doing so." Baradeth answered honestly and almost heartlessly as she stood. "If you will not help me, then I will find someone who is willing to do so."
"Fine, fine, have it your way then. So, tell me what it is that you need help with." Thranduil sighed and waved for her to continue.
Baradeth took a deep breath and realized that she sort of forgot what she had wanted to say. So focused on making the story of the flower seem legitimate, the elleth had forgotten about the most important part of the deal. How would she ask for this? What words would she use, in what order, with what tone? Would her predicament be explained in exact detail, or would she breeze over it and hope for the best?
"As you know," Baradeth started without really meaning to, "I have been cursed; forced to live forever, with the claws of the enemy hooked into my back, until one of us ceases to exist. Well, I am not fond of this curse, and would like very much to be rid of it."
"As many rightfully would, I suppose." Thranduil agreed.
"Right, and as far as I know, the only way to do so is by having someone trust me entirely, to the point where they wouldn't question my judgement whatsoever, because they know that I am trustworthy. Someone must have so much faith in me that they would put their life in my hands, if need be."
There was her answer, honest and to the point.
"You want me…to trust you?" Thranduil hesitantly asked. It sounded so simple and easy that he didn't understand what all of the fuss was.
"No, I need to earn your trust and respect." Sighed Baradeth, slightly frustrated that the king didn't comprehend what she was saying. "It isn't as easy as you think, Thranduil; time and effort will need to be put into this, more than you assume."
The king closed his eyes and shook his head irritably.
"Enough with this…toeing the line, Baradeth. Tell me, outright, what I must do in order to get my—" He cut himself off before he could say information. "plant. I am in desperate need of it, and whatever you plan on me doing in order to get it will be done. Now, just say what—"
"You will live with me, in my home, alone for ten days and ten nights." Baradeth boldly announced. "You will not bring your men or any weapons, food, or clothing, other than what you wear. I will be the only source of providence towards what you need, and in doing so you will learn to trust me. After the ten days and ten nights are up, weather my curse is broken or not, you will have your flower. And if you are doubting me, then I am willing to give you one single flower now in order to prove myself."
Thranduil stared at Baradeth. She wanted him to stay ten days and ten nights in her home? Did she not think that he had responsibilities? King Thranduil, son of Oropher, ruler of Mirkwood, had people to protect, alliances to keep, documents to look over and approve. He could not simply slip away from everything for the sake of one elleth's problems. What would the council think? Not only would it be neglecting his duties, it simply wouldn't be safe, anyone with common sense would say the same thing.
No other people to watch his back if she decided to turn on him, no food of his own to make sure he was well fed, and none of his clothing were allowed? His robes, his crowns and broaches, his sashes and gowns were hand crafted by the best of his people, and they were expected to sit in a closet and collect dust for so long? He would not have it, not for anything.
"You," Thranduil jeered, "are foolish and sorely mistaken if you think I would dedicate my precious time to a thing like you!"
Baradeth's eyes widened in offense and she backed away as the king stepped closer to her menacingly.
"Unlike your relaxed self, I have duties, Baradeth, people who rely on me. I am king of Mirkwood and have much to do with my time. I matter, and cannot simply be swept away whenever a simpleton wishes me to do so, whatever the cause."
Baradeth stopped backing away and decided to step closer instead. She strengthened her stance and her attitude, refusing to be talked down to in her own home. It had not been tolerated before, so why start now?
"If that is true," growled the elleth, "then why are you here right now? You could have easily left the moment I denied you what you came for, and your precious time would not be wasted. Clearly, you are not needed as much as you think, my king, otherwise you would have been found and called away by your people."
The king scoffed and glared down at Baradeth angrily.
"Do not think that I leave my kingdom to its own devices, Baradeth. Of course I have appointed someone to take care of my obligations while I am away."
"If it is so easy to replace you, then why do you exist in the first place?"
Thranduil flinched at the honesty of her question as if he had been physically injured by it. Before he could say anything back, though, she held up her hand to stop him and took another breath, closing her eyes once more to calm herself.
"Never mind that. If you will help me, then thank you and forgive me for what I've said. If not then leave now and never come back, for you are very near to overstaying your welcome."
Thranduil huffed furiously, not willing to be dismissed so easily.
"Need I remind you that I am your king, Baradeth? I can never overstay my welcome, for I can and I will do as I wish."
"Oh, is that so? Well, in that case, take the flower then. Use its power, let it bless you, or your fighters, or whomever you wish. Go ahead, the flower is right there, ready for you to take advantage of it." Baradeth said smartly.
The king's jaw clenched tightly in utter anger as he realized that he couldn't just take the information from Baradeth's mind. If she was not willing to give it, then he would never have it. No form of torture would sway her and no number of years in a jail cell would warm her to the idea of helping him. The only way she would help him is if he helped her in return.
"Need I remind you that you have no power here?" The elleth asked.
"Will you not think of the others that this could help, Baradeth?" Thranduil silently asked. "Shall you not give it through charity or good will? Must you be so…so…" His frustration kept him from finding the word he wanted.
The king smirked then and tilted his head up smugly, his silvery eyes glistening with dark cleverness.
"Ah, I see now." Thranduil slowly chuckled. "You have an agenda, and only care for yourself. How horribly selfish of you, darling Baradeth."
Baradeth stomped towards the king with a sudden seething rage and glared up at Thranduil, her face only inches away from his as she hissed at him.
"Do not try to call me selfish, Elf King. You were the one who came marching into my home, threatening to arrest me, demanding to know my history. You came to me with no selfless intent, hoping to find some knowledge on Sauron, and for no other reason!" She began to shout and wanted desperately to push Thranduil away from her and out of her home.
"You would dare to call me, an outcast elleth what must depend only on myself for protection and friendship…you would accuse me of being selfish? While you sit upon your throne in the highest of towers, amongst the finest of food, dressed in the nicest of clothing, surrounded by people loyal only to you, you would think yourself to be more charitable and generous than I? You," Baradeth shook her head and shoved her finger into the king's chest, "are the most greedy and ungrateful person that I have ever met. For, with everything that you already have, you would come to someone like me, who has near to nothing…and bother to ask for more."
Thranduil's mouth hung open and his eyes watered with uncontrollable emotion. The elleth scoffed at the shocked expression on the king's face. He would be surprised, she figured, since nobody would be willing to tell him such truths. Baradeth could risk it though, and she did so proudly.
"And now," she continued, "when you find that you must do something which requires effort in order to gain what you ask for…you throw a fit."
She turned to the plant on the table, not wanting to look upon Thranduil any longer, and waved him away.
"Go. I should have known better from the start than to let you stay so long. You are no longer welcome here, and if you are not gone from my woods by tomorrow's sunset, you will join those in my graveyard."
Thranduil squinted at Baradeth doubtfully.
"To kill a king—"
Baradeth turned and faced Thranduil head on. The candles flickered, the fire in its hearth grew ten times, the curtains wavered, shadows in the corners grew, and the front door flew open. The dark elleth spoke in a deep, dark voice that was heard all throughout the forest.
"To kill a king is no more difficult than to kill any other beast."
When Baradeth spoke again her voice was softer, but still powerful.
"Leave now, Thranduil, while you still can. And pray that I never meet you again, for my face will be the last one that you will see."
Swallowing hard and telling himself that this one time he could go on without having the last word—for he really did worry for his life and the lives of his men—Thranduil turned and walked slowly out the door. He might not be leaving on his terms, and he may have been insulted down to his very core, but the king would not flee from the elleth.
The archers and servants were ordered to pack everything up and be ready to leave within the hour. Thranduil did not speak to his curious and concerned son; he only sat waiting atop his horse at the mouth of the trail, trying not to look at the bodies, effigies, or severed limbs around him.
Baradeth sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the covered palantíri as she often did when in a thought-induced stupor. Would anyone ever be willing to help her? Thranduil was the first person she had encountered who wasn't hardly as effected by her curse—possibly because of how old he was, or just because he himself was a powerful individual. She had managed to scare him away, though, and the chances of Baradeth ever living her life as she once did had just dropped significantly.
Before she knew it, the sound of marching feet walked around Baradeth in her house and into the backyard, where they began to quiet and disappear. The elves were gone. All was silent once again.
She didn't have anyone to tell her stories to. She didn't have anyone to feed. She didn't have a handsome, selfish king to banter with.
Baradeth tried to be angry at Thranduil and think of his worst qualities, but all she could really remember was the feeling of his arms around her when she had cried. She hoped to one day be hugged again, and found herself wanting for it to be Thranduil. Whatever faith was left in her mind and body reminded Baradeth of the words she spoke to Thranduil that day.
"Cold, cruel creatures do not comfort strangers when they cry."