Chapter 29

Power of Words

The Prince was not impressed.

He was awoken from his peaceful slumber, only to find out that his companion was gone and another servant walked up on his bedside to tell him that Elrond wanted to see him. In his wonder, he reluctantly agreed. His co-attendant Amardís assisted him into getting out of bed and marching into the hall Elrond had asked.

And now, well now, the Lord of Rivendell had just the very nerve to bring ill-news to him.

"What did you say?" Thranduil snapped. He sat on a cushioned chair; hands neatly folded atop a wooden table. His robe was grey and heavy. But, around his head, was a white cloth which covered his eyes still.

"I will have to return to Rivendell," said Elrond calmly. He stood on the other side of the room; his dark hair glinted as the flames of the candles danced with the wind. "It has been a month. Although the enemy has perished, I and my people are still wary and restless. We wish to return sooner."

Thranduil scoffed. "I understand your reasoning, Lord Elrond. Pray tell me why Erfaron has to travel with you?" But he already knew the answer; he simply refused to admit it. He had no authority over her. The decisions should come from her, but Elrond and Erestor influenced this decision-making. He knew very well that Erynlith had been homesick, but he also knew she was happy in Greenwood.

Elrond did not want to admit that the reason behind it was Erestor's stubbornness. The captain was never demanding about his wants; he was one of the most soft-spoken and modest elves Elrond knew. Odds seemed to turn when Erestor began to feel restless. He was becoming more anxious about returning to Rivendell with Erynlith, where he knew they could be safe. His reason for allowing her to stay in Greenwood was because of King Amdír: that the Sinda trusted his niece enough to King Oropher. But both kings were gone. And the two heirs were disheartened. Amroth was faring well, so to speak; Thranduil was not. How could Erestor leave Erynlith with such an unstable elf, with no desires whatsoever to even run his own kingdom?

"I am sorry, but Erynlith has expressed her want to return to us," Elrond finally said, and he saw Thranduil's brows furrowed.

"…What?" Thranduil could not believe what he was hearing. First, he lost his father and almost the entire Silvan army. Second, he lost his eyesight and consequently, the burn on his cheek had still not faded. And lastly, the one elf he was relying on wanted to leave him. If she left, where would he turn to? To whom would he talk about his thoughts, his plans? Certainly not Raithon or Santien. Thranduil carefully chose his next words. He would never want for Elrond to hear the words, but it could not be helped.

"Does this something to do with my refusal of the kingship?"

"Only Erestor can answer that," Elrond answered truthfully. But then he added: "I know it sounds hard, but Erestor wants to have her back. He has gone quite… possessive of her over the years."

"I understand," Thranduil whispered. Indeed, he had no authority over her. Technically, no matter how someone would put it, Erestor raised Erynlith; he was almost her father, and he had every right to claim her. And who was Thranduil? A prince too somber to take his kingdom. He knew that eventually, he would claim Greenwood as his own. But not now, not when he was vulnerable to his people. How could he rule with his temporary blindness? And with the searing burn on his left cheek, he feared that not even time could make it fade. Then, he bit his lip and ran a finger across his covered eyes, and felt his left cheek. A stinging sensation was there, and he growled lowly. If he were to be Elvenking, he would have given anything to get rid of these wounds quick.

"I will have to check on my companions," Elrond said, standing up. He was aware of Thranduil's stillness and knew what was wrong. "Should I ask for Lady Amardís to return you to your chambers?"

"No, thank you. I can find my way back on my own."

Thranduil carefully slid past Elrond, their shoulders brushing briefly, and the door was shut softly. It was the last thing he would need from him: his pity. He had already made it clear that he wanted nobody to pity on him. An Elvenking should not be pitied on. Luckily, he knew these halls well, having lived there for well nigh three thousand years. He calculated each step, careful not to pass an important crease on the corridor. As he turned left, he felt someone bump into him, and he heard a slight gasp. His ear perked up at the voice. It was a female's voice, but not Erynlith's. He knew her voice too well.

"Celairis," he addressed the female counselor. He knew it was her from the whiff of rosemary that she had always coated her dark hair with. There was a great difference between Erynlith's foresty scent and Celairis's flowery one. And he loved the forest scent more. "Where are your manners?"

The dark Silvan beauty quickly bowed. "Forgive me, my lord. I was lost in thought while striding. I did not intend to run into you."

"Are you on your way to your chambers, then?" Thranduil asked, making a small talk. He had not heard of her for a while, but he knew she did her duty in the palace well.

"I have a council to attend to, my lord," Celairis answered. Her pale skin gleamed under the moonlight, and her silver-blue dress shone. Her hair was darker than any other of the Silvan folk, like a depthless oblivion, beautiful and mysterious.

"At this time of the night?" he mused. Despite the darkness that was his vision, he could tell it was nighttime already; quite late in the night in fact.

"Yes, the other counselors are waiting."

"Never mind them," Thranduil said and began to walk off again. He could feel Celairis's bright blue eyes following him in utter disbelief. He turned back to her, slightly smiling, and said: "You can have your council tomorrow morning. Come and join me for an evening walk. I want to hear all your reports about the management of the palace."

"Of course, my lord," Celairis answered and followed behind him. Her narration of the reports began, and Thranduil listened attentively.

For the first time since his arrival a month ago, he allowed someone to get close to him, and that was his most trusted counselor, the dark beauty of Greenwood.

"Hurry! Hurry!"

Thranduil groaned for the umpteenth time. If only his eyes were not obscured, he could have already rolled them on the beckoning younger elf. She grasped his hand, desperately pulling him to follow her. She was beaming like a child, and he had no idea why there were outside the palace. He initially refused the idea of coming out of the comfort of his chambers, but she insisted anyway, like she always did.

"Can't you be any slower?" Erynlith sighed exasperatedly. She clasped his right hand and pulled him forward.

But Thranduil continued lagging behind; he was on the edge of whining. "Where are we even going?"

"Come on! It's spring and the bluebell meadow is blooming wonderfully! The view of the river is good and there are butterflies and—"

He forcefully snatched his hand away from hers.

"Do you forget who I am?" He sounded bitter. "Or do you wish to mock me? You are aware of my condition? Do you forget that I am blind?!" He shouted at her, and he had never done that before.

Erynlith fell silent. She knew how much he was frustrated about that accursed blindness, and all she wanted was to lighten him up. The atmosphere in his chambers was almost too tensed with his fiery temper. It was Elrond who suggested to take the Prince elsewhere, to freshen up his mind. And she thought bringing him to the meadow where they hung out before would indeed freshen it up. She never thought he would bring up the topic of his blindness again, even it was temporary. That fact alone made him more frustrated with other people and himself.

Slowly, she made her way back to him and took his hand again. He flinched at her touch, not expecting such a gesture. Normally, whenever he lashed out something to her, she would get angry as well and walk away. He expected to be left alone in the forest after he raised his voice on her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking up at him and meeting the white covers of his eyes. "Let us return to the palace right now then…"

As she pulled him back towards the other direction, he shook his head silently. He urged her to move forward again, and then whispered: "No, mellon nin. Show me everything."

At those words, she quickly smiled and he let himself to be led. It was not long until he heard the rushing waters of Anduin, and the silent breeze of the spring air.

Erynlith carefully guided him to sit in the middle of the meadow; the blooming beauty of the bluebells surrounding them. They spoke not to each other; they never had to speak. Silence was both their comfort. After a while, Thranduil heard some fumbling noises and a little hum from his companion. A humming Erynlith was never a good sign! It always brought out all her hidden antics and the people around her had to deal with whatever gibberish she had.

He suppressed a groan and leaned back; his arms supporting his upper body weight. "Please don't tell me you're making a flower crown."

She laughed quietly. "Alright, I will not tell you, tra-la-la."

"And you can't make me wear that."

"You are a king, and a king wears crown, tra-lay" she sang. "Well, you are not king yet, but you will be. This flower crown is a temporary crown, tra-lo." She reached out and laid the crown atop his head, silently admiring her work. Thranduil tried to imagine how ridiculous he must have looked at that moment.

"Oh, this is so embarrassing." He groaned. But slowly, a small smile curled up his lips.

"See? You're smiling!" She beamed at him. On her skirt, she had more bluebells to make into smaller bracelets. She would give them to Erestor and Elrond, and if Lord Círdan wanted one, she would make one for him as well. She looked again at Thranduil who was feeling the flower crown on his head. "The Elvenking always wears a crown of berries, maybe next time you can wear flowers, too."

Thranduil shook his head. "I will not take the kingship. I am thinking of merging Greenwood back to Lórinand—let Amroth rule the Silvan altogether. Their culture is one and the same, and he will make a good king for a long time. As for myself, perhaps I can retreat into a simpler lifestyle. Maybe become a counselor… or a butler."

"Oh, please. You cannot simply throw thousands of year's worth of effort for a burn, Thranduil. Lord Elrond himself states that it will heal, tra-la. You only have to be patient. A month has gone by, and your cheek is healing. If you surrender everything to Amroth, where would you place yourself? Surely, King Oropher would not want to see his realm fall. You have people to help you: Santien, Raithon, and even Lady Celairis. You have time to build Greenwood again, to pick up the fallen pieces, and then, you might finally start building the northern fortress you and your father wanted, tra-lo. Is it not what you wanted the most? To live in an underground palace reminiscent to that of the Hidden King?"

He shook his head. "I want something more. I want to see you."

"And you will," Erynlith reassured him, cupping his cheek lightly. He sighed. "You will see me soon enough, mellon nin. When you will, you are already king and I will be clapping at your speech. Trust me on that." She leaned closer and planted the swift kiss on his covered eyes.

Suddenly, he felt mischievous. "And who would be my consort then?"

"How should I know?" She shrugged and continued connecting a flower stem to another, creating bracelets. "Maybe you can ask one of the Silvan maidens. Lady Celairis has been very kind to me and she's very pretty, too. Or maybe Santien!" She laughed. "Santien will make a fearsome queen I'm sure."

"Raithon has already claimed her," he answered with a hint of disappointment. "And Celairis is too choked up in her counselor duties."

"She's really pretty, though. Lots of the guards fancy her, tra-la. You should visit Rivendell sometime," Erynlith offered again, her full attention focused on the flowers. "I know some interesting maidens there. Erestor doesn't like them flocking about him in the morning, tra-lil-lay," she continued, followed by a faint laugh.

He smiled softly. "My father once told that there is always someone out there for me, with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair…"

Erynlith paused, as though assessing the weight of his statement. "But I am returning to Rivendell soon. Erestor says so…"

"You really cannot think straight when Erestor is involved, can you?" Thranduil spat. The previous heartwarming moment was quickly dissolved. "How could you let him decide on everything about you? Are you some sort of a child who needs guidance from her parents? Is he really that important to you— that you would rather stay with him because he wants to, and abandon what you want?"

"I do it because I love him, Thranduil," Erynlith answered harshly. "If there is someone I should follow for all eternity, it would be Erestor, and no one else. There could be no greater love I have than for him. He is my brother."

"No, he is not!" He seethed. "He is not your brother! The two of you are not even blood-related! It just so happened that your parents died and Erestor had no better choice than to take you in out of pity!"

Erynlith bit her lower lip, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. The flower bracelet she was working on was crumpled in her fist. How could she even make him understand?

At length, she stood up and began to walk away. "I am done here," were her only words for him. "I'll send someone to pick you up."

"I don't need your pity," Thranduil angrily barked at her.

With that, she sped off into the forest; her silent cries were heard by him. And he sat there in the meadow, the breeze caressing his face. For a moment, he pondered about his harsh words—on how could a beautiful day turn into a bitter one after a fleeting moment of temper. It was always like that with her. Even if he wanted to stay with her as long as possible, something seemed to get in the way. Always. He knew well that he had hurt her feelings; he regretted it. But as prideful as he was: No, he would not take his words back. He could apologize, but the words he said would always be there. And it made her cry. He felt a pang in his chest as he remembered her sobs.

Now what? He asked himself. It was clear that he did not want any help, especially from one of the elf guards, if Erynlith would send for them. Thranduil grunted and stood up, dusting off an invisible dust off his silver robes. He turned and carefully traced his steps back, his hands attentively probing around for trees and branches. He almost tripped on an uprooted root, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. As he continued his solitary way back into the palace, he felt someone else's presence. And he did not like it.

"I know you're there," he warned casually, straightening himself. "I already said so: you cannot sneak up on me, Erfaron." He hissed the name softly.

Erynlith emerged from the flock of trees, her grey eyes still drenched with tears. She was angry at him, for all the harsh words that he said. She blamed him for it, but she could not bring it to herself to leave him alone, not with his condition like that. It would be utter selfishness if she did so.

Silently, she walked up to him and took his hand into hers, guiding him back towards the palace. Thranduil, quiet as he was, allowed himself to be led.

Such was a complicated understanding, but their invisible red string always had a way to pull them back together.

Author's Notes: Man, have I been gone for too long or what? Sorry for the rather late update. I was busy doing adult stuff. *cries*

Hooboy! Everything tenses up with Elrond's announcement. Good thing Thrandy still has his sass to counter Elrond. And Erynlith; if I were her, I would have been pretty scared with all the shouting. *shudders*

*Asmodeus Black - I hope this chapter kinda answers your questions. Erestor really wants things to be done his way. LOL.

*DeLacus - Yoo! We missed you last chapter, but you made it back! Thank you, and I am sure Thrandy would want your hug, too.~

*Treesaw - Thank you for leaving a review! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

P.S. Things would be like a roller-coaster ride in the next several chapters, and it may go downhill from there onwards. Take this as my advance apology for taking the story there! *hides* Oh, and thank you all for reading! Have a wonderful day ahead!