It was obvious while Elluin and Turiel helped the ladies prepare for the evening meal that Lady Ninniach had enjoyed her day. While Anarrima had spent the day chatting with Celebrian, the younger elleth had been with Arwen listening to the magnificent tales Glorfindel told of his travels. She was so excited about all she'd heard that she was hardly able to finish summarizing one story for her companion before jumping into the next. Turiel had to ask her several times to hold still while she laced up her dress and braided her hair.
Ninniach had just concluded a rather scattered retelling of the story of how Glorfindel had fought the Balrog when she was distracted by another topic. "He has even seen Dwarves!" she said. "Can you imagine?"
Anarrima's face turned cold. Elluin saw her tense as she finished fastening the lady's jewelry.
"I know precisely what it is like to see Dwarves," she said, trying to keep the disdain from her voice.
Ninniach caught the negativity of the comment and looked over, realizing what Anarrima was thinking about. "Forgive me," she sputtered. "I am forgetting the Sindar history."
Anarrima sighed. "I am perhaps too quick to blame the Children of Aule for all the troubles of our people. They are mortals and their memories are not long. It has been nearly four thousand years since the Dwarves sacked Menegroth." She ran her fingers lightly over the small gems around her throat. "Perhaps now that the object of the ancient dispute is gone, we may proceed with more civility."
Elluin found herself awed by Anarrima's open-mindedness toward the Dwarves, especially given the losses she suffered as a result of the conflict. The servant wondered how much of the lady's attitude was due to her council with the other Elven lords in Rivendell. Lady Celebrian doubtlessly viewed the Dwarves rather favorably, having traveled through the kingdom of Khazad-Dum after the fall of her family's home in Eregion.
While Ninniach listened, Turiel was finally able to finish the young lady's hair. "You are wise, Anarrima," Ninniach said. "However, somehow I do not think the king would share your optimism about future relations with the Dwarves."
"He may well rely on others in his service to deal with them if there is ever the opportunity," Anarrima admitted. She cast a small smile on Elluin as she carried Ninniach's more modest jewelry over to Turiel. "I am told Elluin's father has had some experience."
"Is that true?" Ninniach broke in, curiosity evident in her eyes.
"Yes, my lady," Elluin said. "I have watched my father and others of Lord Cirdan's court in many amicable and mutually beneficial negotiations with the Dwarves."
"What were they like?" Ninniach asked eagerly.
"Physically, my lady, their long beards were the most striking. I remember looking up into the thick mass of braids and curls hanging beneath their dark and glittering eyes and round noses, sticking out even further than the heavy belts around their round bellies."
"Looking up? Are they not shorter even than Men?"
"Yes, my lady, but I was a child the last time I saw such a meeting in person. I would sometimes play with the Dwarf prince under the council tables while our fathers spoke. When I became too old to hide under Lord Cirdan's chair or sit on my father's knee, I saw the Dwarves mostly from afar as they brought their tools and toys to trade at the market."
"Would that this peace lasts," Anarrima said, viewing the effects of Elluin's final touches with a small mirror, "that we may have such a trading partner. For all their faults, Dwarves are gifted craftsmen."
"It is true, my lady, that Greenwood would benefit greatly from the skill of Dwarven smiths," Elluin said neutrally. "And they thrive on trade. I believe they would be willing to make agreements with us if the king ever wished it."
"He would need some convincing," Anarrima muttered. Elluin surmised that it would require a great deal of convincing, indeed. "Come, Ninniach, we should not keep our host waiting."
Now alone in the room, Turiel and Elluin prepared the room for when the ladies would return to sleep.
"Elluin, have you been able to speak to the king since you told him?" Turiel asked with a conspiratorial grin.
"No," came the reply, somewhere between regret and relief. "He has been in meetings and hunting trips with the Elven lords, and I have only been assigned to serve during meals for larger gatherings."
Turiel huffed in frustration as she needlessly shook out a nightdress. "If only I could convince him that the only thing he should bother trying to catch is you."
Elluin laughed in spite of herself.
~.~.~
The time soon came for Rivendell's visitors to depart.
Amroth had so appreciated his meetings with Celeborn and Galadriel that he had invited them to return with him and make their home in Lorinand once more. Thranduil thought wryly that his father would have despised the idea of the Lord and Lady living east of the Misty Mountains again, but he was thankful that his fellow Elvenking would have such valuable additions to his court.
Arwen and Ninniach had forged a strong friendship and vowed that they would use what influence they had in order to ensure that communication and collaboration between Greenwood and Rivendell would continue, if only to allow the occasional exchange of letters between them. Anarrima and Celebrian were only too happy with the young ellith's new friendship, not least because it would benefit their own correspondence.
Thranduil and Elrond took their leave of each other in similar states of mind. As rulers of their realms, they were conscious of the challenges faced by Elvendom, but hopeful for peace — at least for a while. Elrond declared that any court member of Greenwood was welcome in his House. Glorfindel casually mentioned in reply that Thranduil's future children may benefit from studying in Rivendell, as Elrond had acquired the most impressive library outside of Gondor. At Thranduil's bewildered expression, Glorfindel simply winked.
~.~.~
The sons of Elrond accompanied the Elves of Greenwood to the peak of the Low Pass of the Misty Mountains before bidding them farewell. The warming spring made for a forgiving path, and the group reached the eastern foothills in two days.
The Elvenking's company had fallen back into the same routines as before, though familiarity of the road and the anticipation of home made the journey seem faster. Telior, who had elected to spend most of his time in Rivendell assisting in patrolling the borders of the Valley, was vigilant as always but not uneasy.
It surprised all of them when Aurados returned from scouting ahead the following morning, saying with wide eyes that a large band of Dwarves was camped two miles to the south, between the River Anduin and the Greenwood. Thranduil had no wish for their paths to cross, and was more than a little annoyed at the mere possibility. Telior guessed that the Elves would be able to ford the Anduin and gain the cover of the trees before the day's end, escaping the Dwarves' observation, so they set out again at a brisk pace. Aurados and Lostor were sent back to maintain a watch over the Dwarves.
At nightfall, the two soldiers reached the camp the Elves had made for the night. They reported that the Dwarves were preparing to move on again the next morning.
"Were you able to determine what purpose they have in traveling so close to Greenwood?" Thranduil asked.
"No, sire," Aurados admitted. "They bear light armor and battle axes on their belts, but it does not appear that they are outfitted to launch an assault. They travel with a handful of uncovered wagons that receive no special guard. We did not come close enough to investigate the contents, but at least some of it was food."
"Captain, I will go now to see them for myself," Thranduil said to Telior, who bowed his head in acknowledgment. Sulros jumped to bring the king his sword and dark cloak while Telior tasked the soldiers that would not join them to form a perimeter around the Elven camp.
"Sire," Berenil said, "I will accompany you. With your leave, I would have Elluin come, also." The elleth shot Berenil a questioning glance, met only with an encouraging nod.
"Very well," Thranduil conceded absently as he settled his cloak onto his shoulders.
The Elves, accustomed to traveling through woodland, were silent as they closed the distance between their own camp and the Dwarves', easily moving among the deeper shadows of the trees of the forest in its nighttime slumber. They crept closer until they could see the bearded faces of the outsiders where they sat in their camp a stone's throw away from the eaves of the forest. The Dwarves' strange tongue punctured the air around them like the rhythmic tapping of hammers and the rumbling of rolling boulders.
"We must go no further, sire," Telior warned as the company approached the treeline. "They have keen eyes in the dark."
Berenil spoke just loudly enough for the Elves to hear. "They must be traveling from Khazad-dum to visit their kin in the Gray Mountains to the North."
Elluin took a few more steps forward toward Thranduil. "Sire," she whispered with some surprise, "I know their leader."
Though his eyes remained on the Dwarves, Thranduil leaned toward her, close enough for her to perceive his scent faintly through the perfume of the springtime forest blooms — the scent she had come to recognize and love during the times she was assigned to service in the king's chambers. He waved a finger for her to continue and she forced herself to regain focus.
"The Dwarf with the gleaming helm and three braids in his graying beard, sire — I knew him many years ago as Droin, the son of Durin the Fifth, the chief of the Longbeards. He wears the belt of the king of that house; it appears Durin has fallen and Droin now rules."
"I have heard reports to that end," Thranduil confirmed. "What do you know of Droin?"
"He once had a marvelous toy, a small wooden horse with wheels on its legs that he would pull by a thin, sturdy chain," Elluin said, smiling at the memory. "He also had admirably quick hands for a Dwarf when we would catch spinning tops."
The king sharply withdrew his gaze from the Dwarves to look at his servant in surprise.
"We were but children the last time I saw him, sire," Elluin explained. "We played together during council meetings. I am sorry I do not have more relevant information, my king."
Thranduil shook his head dismissively as he turned a considering gaze back to the scene before them.
The Dwarves remained oblivious to their audience, singing in a rhythmic chorus as they prepared a meal and shuffled their belongings. Thranduil concluded that they posed no immediate threat and could be allowed to pass unhindered. He also decided that the Elves should travel another distance down the Old Forest Road and find a camp further away before taking rest. They withdrew just as silently as they had come.
~.~.~
Arriving home was bittersweet for Elluin. In most ways, everything was the same. However, she had now exchanged the ache of hidden love for the burden of waiting to see if it would be returned. When she told her parents, they had expressed pride and assured her of their support, knowing there was nothing more for her to do than continue in her position.
When she told Maethon, he simply gave her a strong nod. But then his expression turned to one of disappointment.
"What is it?" Elluin asked. "Do you no longer approve?"
"No, I do," he clarified. "But I regret that, even though I am one of the king's body servants, I will not be able to help you gain his favor."
Elluin squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "You are kind to think to do so," she answered gratefully. "It seems we must both content ourselves with continuing as before."
"Not quite as before," the ellon said with an assessing gaze. "A weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You are happier now that you've told the king how you feel."
"I do not deny it," Elluin said with a smile, which quickly faded. "And yet, I am no closer to him."
"You have been my friend for many years," Maethon said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "If you are half as patient with him as you are with me, there is hope."