Chapter 8: Ties That Bind
Marilla went through her tasks quietly that day. Bilbo's question about whether she was burned by her own anger ran through her head, competing for attention with the things she'd read about Elves and Dwarves. She wished she could remember her father. She wished she'd had a chance to know these other people who were also her people before committing herself to a new life with the Elves of Imladris, if they would have her. That the Peredhel was also a lord of his own lands piqued her curiosity.
She was on the way to the kitchen for her first report of the day when she passed the hallway in which King Thranduil kept his personal office when she heard a familiar-sounding tone. She paused and trained her ears on the sound. It was someone's voice. It sounded like – her mother?
Marilla snuck down the corridor as quietly as she was able. Her mother was talking to the King. Her mother, who rarely ever ascended into the greater Woodland Realm. Why else but to thwart her plan to help the Dwarves somehow, to keep them out of trouble? Disbelief battled against the beginnings of a new, hot rage – no matter what Bilbo had said.
As she crept closer, the heated voices of Helluin and Thranduil came into focus.
"If her peers in the kitchen do not like her, that is hardly my concern. I gave the order years ago to cease antagonizing her, as you asked me to," Thranduil said, sounding dismissive. "I have given her every chance there is. I have personally advised her on how she could fit in better here. If she had listened to me, perhaps she would have some friends by now."
"You are the King. Everyone looks to you to set the tone – you have set us up to be shunned by everyone. She cannot help how she looks. She tries: we've been shaving her face for years, although I see how it chips away at her spirit," Helluin said with barely concealed frustration.
"Perhaps you should have thought of that before conceiving a child who is caught between an old and bitter enmity between two peoples," Thranduil told her. "You could easily have followed that Dwarf into the forest, lived out his life, and left your ill-fated love at that. You had to want to conceive for Marilla to be born. You chose this life for her, not me."
"If you expect me to say that I regret my child's existence, you will be sorely disappointed, sire," Helluin replied, beginning to sound angry.
"I am not surprised. You have been selfish about this since the day you met that Dwarf . When have you ever cared about how others have suffered for your ludicrous romance?" Thranduil asked, a cold fury suffusing his voice.
"Your wife did not share your opinion. She was kind to me – to us. Why can you not follow her example?" Helluin sounded as though she was going to say more, but Thranduil cut her off.
" You have the nerve to speak of my wife to me? Did you realize that precious time in the last hours of her life was spent talking about you and your child?" Thranduil's voice could have frozen a lake.
"You would not have had to waste the time if you had not bothered to argue with her about it and just agreed to a little generosity," the elleth argued. "But you could not imagine letting me –"
"You! You insist that everything is about you, Helluin! You crossed a boundary that has stood between our people and the Dwarves since the atrocities they committed at Doriath and you expected there to be no consequences? You were there – you saw what they are capable of! And yet somehow, this is all about you, " Thranduil scoffed.
"But it actually isn't about Doriath, is it?" Helluin hissed. "It is about me – you cannot stand to have me in your Kingdom because I knew you when you were a child. Who else here can say that – no one! I witnessed your youthful errors, I saw you tender and in love with my friend. And speaking of Doriath, I saw you stumble on the stairs and run from those Dwarves like the unseasoned boy that you were! You have changed since you took up your father's crown, Thranduil, and not for the better. You can't bear to have someone walking freely, speaking with your subjects, who knows just how true that is."
A dangerous silence filled the air. Marilla heard something shift beside her and looked at it in alarm. She'd been so engrossed, she hadn't noticed anyone approaching her. To her surprise, it was the King's son. Legolas looked back at her when she turned towards him.
"I did not know they knew each other so long, did you?" Legolas whispered to Marilla.
Marilla appraised him warily and shook her head. A small crease between his brows was the only thing that revealed what he might be thinking.
"How dare you?" they heard Thranduil growl dangerously.
"How dare you! You have allowed my poor daughter to suffer the full hatred you have stoked up against the Dwarves as an excuse so you do not have to admit that you are afraid to have a peer in your midst!" Helluin said, barely keeping herself from shouting.
Marilla heard a sound like something hard slamming into a wood surface. Legolas shook his head, a look she thought might best be described as consternation overtaking his face.
"Get out!" Thranduil said loudly. "Even she could understand that I cannot possibly keep you here after this, this disrespect. This cannot be tolerated! I am your King!"
"I was prepared for you to be my King, when I thought you were the Elf I once knew," Helluin spat back.
"Leave this Kingdom and do not return," Thranduil told her. "I am not an oath breaker. Your daughter may stay if she wishes to. I do know the difference between you, and she is not the one who has committed sedition," Thranduil said coldly.
"Very well," Helluin said, her voice still sharp. "May I beg your generosity, my Lord , and have a week to prepare for my journey?"
"You have three days. I do not want to see or hear from you again. If I do not have a report that you have left by then, I will throw you out myself," the King hissed.
Beside her, Legolas let out a troubled sigh. "I wonder if your mother is right and we owe you an apology," he said to Marilla. "I wish I could think otherwise, but I have rarely seen anyone get under my father's skin so quickly or so badly. She touched something sore, that is certain."
"Will you go with her?" the Prince asked Marilla as he prepared to disappear. Marilla shrugged, hoping she gave the impression of someone who had never considered such a thing.
"Probably," she admitted. "I don't know where we can go."
"I hope you find somewhere you feel more welcome," Legolas told her.
She caught his gaze for a moment, surprised by this expression of compassion. He looked thoughtful, perhaps even a little regretful. She had never been near the Prince before, at least that she could remember. She was surprised by him. He seemed kinder than she had expected.
Legolas left swiftly and quietly. Marilla turned back towards the kitchen and waited at the end of the hallway for her mother to emerge. When she did, Helluin looked at her daughter in surprise, her face still pink with anger, her eyes crinkled in worry.
Helluin took Marilla by the arm and steered her away from the King's office.
"I still have to give my report to the kitchen!" Marilla whispered. She could not afford to attract attention right before she needed to dose the guards.
"How much did you hear?" Helluin asked her daughter.
"A lot, I think. Enough, Naneth," Marilla said. She stopped short, making Helluin pause with her, then wrapped her arms around her mother's waist in a fierce hug.
"I am sorry it took me so long," Helluin whispered, smoothing Marilla's hair down. "Go, finish your task. I will see you tonight, right?"
"Yes," Marilla agreed. She watched her mother hurry away, towards the only home the girl could remember, knowing they were both preparing to leave. If she'd thought she had a lot on her mind this morning…
(***)
She was no closer to making a choice when she arrived home that evening. When she did, she found their room in a state of disarray. Helluin had pulled the boxes out from beneath the bed and begun to rummage through their contents, deciding what to take with her and what would have to be abandoned.
Marilla saw her mother bent over a trunk near the wall and approached her quietly. When she got closer, she could see Helluin had stopped rooting through the trunk to trace her fingers over the leaves Marilla had carved into the wall as a child. A wet streak ran down her face.
"There is so much of you in this room that cannot be taken with us," Helluin said, addressing Marilla without turning to look at her.
"You yelled at the King," Marilla observed. "For me."
"Yes, for you. He deserved it," Helluin said, a strength in her voice that was unfamiliar to Marilla.
"You really knew him when he was a boy?"
"I did. He was an artistic soul. He loved beauty. He charmed my dear friend with poems and paintings," Helluin said, a sad look passing over her face. "The Sack of Doriath changed him. Dagorlad changed him more. When she died… a light went out in Thranduil. I cannot recognize him anymore. I do not think he can bear for all his loss to be witnessed."
Helluin turned and looked at Marilla. "I mourn for him, but it is no excuse," she said, wiping the wet streak off her face.
"Will you go to Imladris, then, Naneth?" her daughter asked. Helluin stood and nodded.
"Will you come with me, my love?" the Elf begged her daughter. "Erebor is not safe, please. Follow them later, if they succeed, if you will."
The tall, ancient lady turned and sat so she could look her daughter in the face.
"I regret…" her voice trailed off. Marilla thought it looked like she was searching for words.
"I know, Nana," Marilla said, letting out a heavy sigh. "Me, too. I was a bit too harsh the other night. I was upset."
"I am glad you told me the truth," Helluin replied. "I thought this was good enough, but I can see that it's not."
"Do you think they'll accept you in Rivendell? Or me?"
"Lord Elrond is said to be kind, friendly to Dwarves, and a half-Elf himself. You are certainly right that our chances are probably best in his lands," Helluin confirmed.
"What about all the other Elves?" Marilla asked, thinking about the petty kitchen servants she dealt with.
"I don't know, Marilla," Helluin said, her voice pinched with worry. She began pulling items out of a box and sorting them into piles. "If I knew it would be alright, I would have gone a long time ago."
"Was it true, what the King said? That you needed to wish to conceive, for me to be born? Even though my father was mortal?" Marilla asked tentatively.
"Yes, that is true," Helluin said, dropping her task and giving her daughter her full attention. "We wanted you, Marilla. We were so excited to meet you. You should have seen the cradle he made you – it was magnificent. He carved your secret name in Khuzdul on the side. Here…"
Helluin began rummaging through the boxes until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a worn looking piece of deerskin, bearing Khuzdul lettering.
"I copied it before I left the stone house," the Elf explained. "I've told you what it says before. This is what it looks like."
Marilla held the skin in her hands, running her fingers over the plain skin that came from the earliest days of her life. She looked at the writing she couldn't read and she longed to know her father and all his people. She needed to understand who they were.
"Take it with you," Helluin encouraged Marilla. "Wherever you go. I still hope you will come with me, but this choice is up to you."
"Thank you, Naneth," Marilla said, embracing her mother once more.
"Come, let us eat together. There is a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Just promise me you won't leave before we speak again, alright?" her mother offered.
"Yes, alright, Naneth. I'm afraid our dinner is a bit stingy. I think Thranduil might have said something to the kitchens," Marilla admitted.
Helluin shook her head in frustration, but said nothing. Tonight was for her and her daughter; she would let nothing steal it from her, when it could so easily be one of the last.