Chapter 64

Many Meetings

Thranduil could not decide which was better: the relief that he was finally home or the sight of Erynlith gaping at the grandeur of his underground home. He supposed he preferred the latter, as he remained standing behind her, watching with complete satisfaction. When the guards stepped forward to receive more orders, he only lifted his palm and let them return to their posts, all the while keeping an eye on the enthusiastic elf who spent her precious time ogling at the pillars.

"Come along." He sighed and took her hand, settling it on the crook of his elbow. He led her down the bridge that overlapped another, the tapping of his boots resonating in the whole keep. He spied some of the Silvan folk peering through their windows, curious about the King's companion. "We must head to the infirmary to treat our hands."

Erynlith beamed at him immediately. "Infirmary? We are going to see Santien?"

"Why yes." He chuckled, fastening his steps now. "She would be delighted to meet you again."

He did his best to contain her excitement, leading her across the bridges. She kept on tugging at his arm, grinning at the scenery ahead but cowering upon remembering the rushing river below. She smiled at anyone who would see her with the King, and then urge him to walk faster until they were practically running.

With the infirmary at the lowest part of the palace, not too far from the wine cellar and barracks, the walk took a few minutes.

Before he opened the door, he winked at Erynlith.

"Santien? Are you here? I need you to take a look at our hands..."

At the very end of the spacious room, the healer turned around from tending to her herbal plants. Her silky auburn tresses went past her waist. Her green sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, as she let out a deep sigh and frowned at the King. Her frown was gone, however, at the sight of the umber-haired minstrel dashing towards her.

"Santien!" Erynlith burst through the entrance. Though the Silvan healer did not look surprised or delighted, she was immediately caught off-guard and almost lost her balance when the minstrel greeted her with a bone-crushing embrace.

The healer blinked, before she realized that Erynlith was truly embracing her. She let out a small laugh and returned the gesture.

"It has been too long, Erfaron. I am glad to see you so well," she said.

"You are still so quiet, tra-la," Erynlith sang. She held the healer's soft hands, as opposed to her calloused ones. "I really, really, really missed you, tra-la-lay. I missed your hair and your eyes, and oh! Did I mention that I missed your sharp tongue as well, tra-lo?"

Hazel eyes were immediately rolled at her direction. "Stop teasing, Erfaron," she scolded, but then smiled earnestly. "I will only say this one more time: I missed you as well."

Then the minstrel embraced her one more time.

"Could you take a look at our hands?" The King interjected, holding out his palm so the healer could see the dark purple welts. He prepared himself for a good scolding.

"Where have you been lurking, Thranduil? What did you touch; those poisonous flowers near the river again, didn't you? How many times do I have to remind you not to touch plants with suspicious colours and with thorns!?" Santien whirled around, her green skirts moving with her, as she glared at Erynlith. "And you—don't tell me you touched them, too?"

Thranduil complained, "Actually, she did."

"I did not know they were poisonous!" Erynlith shot back.

"You two are helpless, and you are not making my duty easier. Wait here while I get something." Santien turned to leave the infirmary.

It was silent for a while. Thranduil leaned against the window sill and crossed his arms. "How do you find Greenwood now?"

"Breathtaking." Erynlith smiled at him. "You overdid yourself with the design, tra-lay."

"Oh, I had my inspiration. I was a Prince when I started with the rough sketches, remember?"

"What was it then?"

He blinked. "What is what?"

She laughed. "Your inspiration."

"Well..." He paused, thinking deeply. "It was Menegroth, an underground palace where Father and I lived before moving to Greenwood. Of course, it was larger and more beautiful than what I built, because nothing could ever surpass the original."

"Where is Menegroth?"

"Far from here." He sighed, reminiscing about the place. "It was located in the far West, in a forest large and denser than Greenwood. I was born and raised there, spent my childhood running under the trees and chasing after nightingales."

"Nightingales?"

"Yes, I had few friends back then."

She scooted closer to him, her eyes observing the solemn look on his face. "Were you lonely?"

He shrugged. "Not quite. Raithon and Amroth were there with me. I had few marchwarden friends as well."

"What does it look like, this forest with nightingales of yours?" Erynlith remembered her reoccurring dreams of being lost in a strange forest. She remembered the trees and the rivers, the very air smelled like flowers, and the silver-haired warden who was kind to her. She swore it was not Greenwood or Lórinand, and definitely not one of the forests in Arnor.

"How should I describe it?" Thranduil looked at the ceiling pensively. "It was a great beech forest, so great and large that anyone could be lost there. Menegroth was located in the north-eastern part, just like mine." He looked down at her and smiled.

Then, Santien returned with a long wooden box. She was grunting when she reached the two Sindarin elves, and let the box fall on the table with a loud thud. It was filled with what seemed to be damp mud, much to the disgust of the King and the curiosity of the minstrel.

"What are we to do with this, tra-lay?" Erynlith questioned.

"Dip your hands in the mud for half an hour. It would remove the swelling and itchiness," Santien instructed.

"Half an hour?" Thranduil whined. "I am starving, Santien. Can't this wait until later?"

"Not unless you want to spend dinner scratching your hands."

"Sounds good enough for me, tra-la." Erynlith laughed and dipped her hands on the mud.

The squishing sound made the King cringe. "Is this necessary?"

"Seriously, Thranduil!" Santien threw up her hands, grabbed his wrists, and plunged his welted palms in the box. "Stay like that for half an hour, then you two could get some dinner upstairs."

"But what about dinner? And take a look at me; I look like someone who has not seen civilization for ten years. My tunic reeks, my breeches are stained with mud, and I haven't washed my hair for three days!" The King closed his eyes and let out a mocking and dramatic sigh.

"Stop being so melodramatic," Santien admonished. "It's just for half an hour."

"I still have to show my guest to her rooms."

"Erfaron would be fine on her own."

"She's famished as I am. We really need to go to dinner. We could return here later."

"Not happening, Thranduil."

"Why must you always sound so cold to me?" He sighed yet again.

Erynlith, who had been watching the exchange throughout the whole time, smiled. Nothing changed between these two friends—Thranduil always tried to provoke the healer with his grin and mischievous ideas; while Santien would either ignore him or make him go away. Listening to them bickering now made her think of Glorfindel. What could he be doing now? Was he looking for her? Worried? She did not want to make him worry, she never did.

"After this we can change our clothes and go to dinner?" Her voice was so soft that she thought they did not hear her.

Santien nodded. "Yes, that's right."

Grinning mischievously, Erynlith snatched her hands from the box and flicked the mud at Thranduil. It splattered all over his tunic; some were on his cheek and hair. She laughed as he cringed, and then he did the same to her, the mud staining her own tunic now. She shrieked when Thranduil threatened to hold her with his muddy hands, prompting her to exit the infirmary and run off. Thranduil laughed and lopped after her, leaving the auburn-haired healer quite dazed and annoyed.

"Come back here, you two elflings!"

But none of them heard her.

Back on the upper floor, Erynlith and Thranduil paused to catch their breaths. With clothes smeared with mud, it made the Silvan attendants and guards gape at them, especially at the sight of their regal and ill-tempered King, who was now laughing like a child caught red-handed. Some of the servants went forward to assist them; among the company was Galion, the King's main butler.

"Galion," Thranduil called, beckoning him closer with his mud-stained hands, "take our guest to the largest bedchambers near mine. She is Erynlith of Rivendell."

"Good evening," Erynlith greeted and bowed.

"Of course, my Lord," Galion answered, "but the largest chambers are only for the most important guests, right?"

"She is the most important guest," the King replied with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "You remember the story of Erfaron? It's her. I think that's enough reason."

Galion's eyes widened at his liege lord, and then to the female elf. He knew about the story of Erfaron; everyone in Greenwood was familiar with it. He told stories about the huntress to young elflings at night, and those elflings who grew up to be members of the Elven-guard idolized her. He did not expect that the Erfaron would be standing within three feet away from him, smiling timidly at him.

"Definitely," the dark-haired butler agreed. He smiled. "Come this way, Erfaron. I shall take you to your room, where you could rest before dinner."

"Good." Thranduil winked at her. "See you later then."

"Right." Erynlith smiled back and went off to follow Galion. She kept her hands close to her chest, fearing that the mud would make a trail behind her and that the servants would have to clean it up. She continued admiring the upper hallways until Galion stopped in front of a large door.

"As per the King's request, this is the largest bedchamber in this floor," he explained and opened the door for her.

The chamber was richly furnished with green carpets, and on the right corner—beside the extensive window that overlooked a lone mountain in the horizon—was a lamp with silver flower imprints. The bed seemed twice as large as the one she had in Rivendell, covered with thick blankets and white pillows around the headrest. There was an empty wardrobe on the farthest side, and not too far was a smaller door that led elsewhere.

"You could stay here and rest, while we make preparations for dinner. Over there is the bathing chamber, should you wish to bathe. I would send someone to attend to your needs."

"Oh, please do not bother. I am fine."

Galion chuckled. "I cannot let you do things on your own, Erfaron. Wait here while I look for someone." He bowed to her and closed the door.

Left alone now, Erynlith crossed the room and peered down the window; she could see the river below, and not far from that was the river gate. Armoured guards were walking to and fro, clutching their spears and shields, as though Orcs could attack soon. She went towards the lamp and admired the flowers. When she had nothing else to do, she took out a dress from her pack and proceeded to the bathing chamber.

After a few minutes of timidly scrubbing and washing her hair, she stepped out and donned her dark blue velvet dress, with overflowing sleeves trimmed with gold silk—one of the best she had that was given by Erestor. She sat in front of the mirror, smiled at her reflection, and began to comb her hair. She found out that she liked being alone for now, without countless attendants and wardens volunteering to do work for her, unlike in a certain forest elsewhere.

When someone knocked on the door, she knew it was the attendant Galion was searching for.

"Come in, tra-la."

"Good evening, Erfaron, and welcome back to Greenwood."

Erynlith did not recognise her at first, but looking intently at the Silvan attendant and remembered her name, it made her squeal in delight and embrace the elf at once.

"Amardís! Oh, it is so good to see you, tra-la. It has been so long, hasn't it?"

"It's good to have you back, too." Amardís giggled. She was the same dark-haired Silvan who attended Erynlith during her stay in the forest, some two thousand years ago. Her eyes were the same shade of brown, her build still so slender; but she looked more mature now—not a Silvan girl any longer, but a maiden.

"You must tell me everything that happened while I was gone, tra-lo!"

"Of course, of course." The attendant laughed heartily at the other elf's enthusiasm. "But first things first: I must help you prepare for dinner." She led her back towards the mirror and grabbed the brush. "Everyone whispers about your arrival now."

"Oh, they are?"

"Yes. The guards are quite astounded to know that you're here now. Nobody expected you would come just before Aduial en Meleth..."

Erynlith blinked at her reflection on the mirror. "Really? Is it that time of the year again?"

"You've forgotten?"

"I... perhaps I did." She could not believe she had forgotten about the annual evening celebration. She must have been so engaged about the matters in Lórinand that she did not have time to think about the event. It made her think of Rivendell now; would Erestor celebrate? What about Glorfindel; who would he dance with? As childish as it might sound, the warrior did not agree to dance someone else unless he danced with Erynlith first.

"How would you like your hair braided, Erfaron?" Amardís set the brush down.

"Anyway you like it. Does it matter?"

"You have an audience with the King," the attendant answered, proceeded to plait the umber hair into a simple braid, which resembled a waterfall. "Everyone tries to look their best when appearing before him."

"Do they?" Erynlith could not remember a time when someone needed to look their best before talking to Amroth, or even Lord Elrond.

"Indeed. Would you stay here for a long time?"

"I am not sure. I think I am needed someplace else."

The smile on Amardís's face vanished. "I do hope you stay even for a few months. It gets a little lonely here in the palace, and the King rarely sees us. The only ones who could really come close to him are Lady Santien, the Captain of the Guards, and the Chief Counsellor."

Erynlith stood up once the braid was done. She held the attendant's hands and said cheerfully, "Don't worry! I might stay here at least until the winter ends, tra-la."

"Sounds wonderful." Amardís laughed as she went for the doorway. "Let's go, Erfaron. You cannot keep the King waiting."

For dinner, the Elvenking wore his tight-fitting silver robe and crown of red leaves. He was standing at the head of the table when his guest arrived, accompanied by her attendant. Amardís bowed briefly to him, before setting off. He escorted his guest to her seat, which was beside him, as Galion and the other butlers arrived to serve the foods. He found out he was famished from the journey, and so was she, when both of them proceeded to consume the soup and cakes on the table. After the main course was the wine, but of course Erynlith did not partake.

"How are Elrond and Celebrían? I haven't met their children yet," Thranduil began, sipping his wine.

"Oh, they are a happy couple, tra-la." Erynlith laughed a little. "Their children? Elladan and Elrohir are quite mischievous, while Arwen remains the sweet little one."

"I heard from Raithon she is more beautiful than her mother."

Again, she laughed. "More beautiful than her mother and grandmother combined, I daresay."

"Fairer than the proud Galadriel?" The King grinned and remembered someone else. But no fairer than the Hidden King's daughter, I know. He set his silver goblet aside and said, "Come, let me give you a tour around the palace. That's all you've been waiting for, correct?"

"Yes!" She stood up at once and followed him. She ignored when he placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, like he did before. Her velvet skirt was heavy, making her trudge beside the King.

Thranduil led her around the various hallways and showed her the wine cellar, the barracks, while still evading Santien and the infirmary. There was the drawing-room where the King usually lounged in, the throne room where he greeted his guests, more and more corridors with their lamps and carved pillars, tapestries on the wall, and so on. The council chambers were empty, much to Thranduil's relief. He had not seen his Chief Counsellor since he returned from Lórinand, and he guessed Celairis must be in the library, doing her duties. He needed to evade that one as well.

Next, he led Erynlith to his favourite, the semi-circular porch which was purposely located at the farthest end of the palace. He often visited the porch whenever he needed to gather his thoughts, to get away from the mindless noises of people talking, or to simply admire the dark blue skies during the night. It had fences around the edge of the cliff, lamps on either side of the entrance, and a floor with carved Elvish motifs of dark green leaves.

"Well?" He brought her to the edge of the porch, which had the panoramic view of the dark forest and the blue-grey mountain up ahead.

"So beautiful." Erynlith sighed in amazement, looking up to see the clear dark skies with a half-moon and silver stars. She could feel her tears beginning to fall.

Immediately, Thranduil was beside her, worried.

"What's the matter, Eryn?"

She buried her face in her hands, still bursting out with tears. "Nothing... I am just so happy to be back here... I cannot remember a more beautiful place..."

"You are the strangest elf," he remarked, though it warmed him to see her so happy. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair. She flinched and he drew away from her. Too soon, he thought.

"Thranduil?"

"Yes?"

"Could I stay here for a long time?" She sniffed.

His eyes softened at her. "But of course. You could stay here for as long as you want, Eryn. This forest is your home as well as mine."

She smiled then. "Sounds good to me."

"Then you must stop crying." He faked a long, dramatic sigh, his fingers brushing gently across her damp cheeks. "If Erestor could see us now, he would accuse me of making you cry again."

"Oh but he wouldn't, would he?"

"Knowing your sharp-tongued brother, sure he would." He took one last glance on the porch, and then offered his arm to her. "Come. It is midnight and time to rest."

"Are we going to explore the forest tomorrow?" She asked, giving him a hopeful look.

"Anything for you, Eryn."

The King accompanied his guest back to the heart of the palace, passing through his intricate throne room, and all the way to the upper halls. He was so engaged on keeping his attention on Erynlith that he had not noticed approaching the library. When the door opened he stopped his tracks, eyes widening when he beheld the bright blue eyes of his female counsellor. He became alert.

Celairis herself was alarmed. She had been reading books and rewriting parchments in the library, when one of the guards announced that the King finally returned. She was initially vexed when the news got to her so late. Now, standing in front of the door and staring at the King and his newly-arrived guest, she knew at once why he did not come to see her.

"Aran nín," the Chief Counsellor recovered with a greeting, sweeping the astounded Sindarin elf with a low bow. When she straightened herself to continue glaring at him, she was surprised that the guest cried out happily.

"Ah, Celairis!" Erynlith threw herself towards the dark-haired Silvan, wrapping her arms for a warm embrace. "I haven't seen you since forever!"

"E-Erfaron..." The epessë sounded strange in Celairis's tongue. Her hands reluctantly went around the other elf to return her embrace. "Welcome back..."

Erynlith released the counsellor and beamed at her. "Oh, I am so happy to see you again! You haven't changed!"

"Likewise, Erfaron. You remain as radiant as ever." Celairis could not tell whether her words were sincere or not; whether she was truly delighted to see the minstrel again. She felt something in the pit of her stomach, something that she could not quite describe; and for an articulate counsellor like her, it was disturbing being unable to discern her feelings. "When did you arrive?"

"Just today, tra-la. Where have you been? We just finished our tour of the palace."

"I was working." The counsellor shot a brief glare at her King, who remained silent. To Erynlith, she smiled. "You must be very happy to be back..."

"Yes, I am very happy, tra-lo. Oh! We are going to explore the forest tomorrow! Maybe you should come with us!"

"Eryn," Thranduil called out softly, coming in between the two elves, "Lady Celairis does not fare well when it comes exploring forests. Besides, you need to get rest, remember?"

Celairis felt something hurt within her, but not sure what. She swallowed the lump in her throat and said, "Indeed, Erfaron. I belong in the council chambers, not in the forest. I hold quills and papers, not bows and daggers. I shall not keep you any longer. Good evening, Erfaron and my King." She bowed and went off hurriedly, keeping her head high so that her tears would not fall.

"Did... Did I do something wrong?" Erynlith looked at Thranduil, a little concerned.

"No, you did nothing wrong," he assured her. "We should go now."

The walk from the library to her bedchambers was short and quiet. Thranduil opened the door for her, his mind still wandering back to his counsellor, as Erynlith went in.

"Good night, Eryn." He placed his hand on the small of her back, pulled her to him, and kissed her forehead. "Wake up early, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded. "Yes, yes, good night, tra-la."

Thranduil was quiet during his solitary walk back to his chambers. It felt as though his whole body ached from all the walking around the palace, but it also eased him to know that tomorrow would be a very special day. Tomorrow, explore the forest; the two days after that, Aduial en Meleth. It would be another hectic schedule for him, but he had his counsellors and butlers to help him. Then, it made him think of Celairis and her disheartened look upon seeing Erynlith, the way she forced a smile, and glared at him.

I am so good at messing things up, ain't I?

Before he could open his chamber door, he felt someone else's presence. It seemed like second nature to him, feeling movements all around him, coming from those months when he was blind. He stopped and turned around, sighing.

"Come forward, Celairis. I know you have many things to tell me."

His Chief Counsellor emerged from the darkness of the hallway, with tear-filled eyes and flushed cheeks. In spite of that, she remained beautiful in his eyes.

"I have nothing else to tell you, my King."

"Do you not?" His eyebrow rose. "Perhaps you could tell me why you are sobbing."

She wiped her tears and gave him a defiant look. "You could have picked a better timing to fetch her from Lórinand, my Lord. Or did you intend now, because Aduial en Meleth comes nearer? How did you persuade her to come here, considering that you have no courage to speak to her for the last thousand years?"

He did not like the tone of her voice, or the way she lectured him as though she was higher than him and he was no Elvenking. He did not like that she was crying and scolding him at the same time; he did despised that he did not know what to do.

"Enough of this," Thranduil demanded. "I will speak to you in the morning."

Running away again when he doesn't know himself. Celairis knew him well-enough. She nodded. "In that case, have a good night's sleep, my King."

Next Chapter: Damned bigger troubles.

Author's Notes: All right. I am going to put my hands up and confess that I have been in a vacation for the last few months, which is why I am unable to update this story for so long. Sorry, sorry, I am so sorry! Now we return from where we left off: Thranduil and Eryn returning to Greenwood and meeting up with some old friends (and rivals?). The next chapter will be a blast (hopefully), so I'll see you guys next week!

Thank you so much for the latest reviews! I cannot thank you guys enough even if I haven't updated the story. Special thanks to llcyyxx, MoceJo, Honesty, Fiera Evenstar, and poetryinmysilence for the encouraging reviews. I have less time right now to answer all of you, but I promise to do better next time!