28 – Plans for the Future
The palace training yard was an attack on the senses. Voices grunted with effort or cheered with encouragement, nearly drowned out by the cacophony of clanging metal and thudding wood. Sunlight glinted brightly off polished weapons while arrows flew and bodies whirled toward their targets, too quickly for mortal eyes to follow.
Thranduil took a step away from the chaos with a salute to the two captains he had sparred with, still panting from the exercise. They bowed to acknowledge his victory even as he turned. He found a bench overlooking the scene to catch his breath and observe his soldiers.
Sulros appeared by his side almost immediately to hand him a glass of water, then withdrew. The king had long ago abandoned his surprise at the servant's ability to materialize with exactly what he wished, sometimes before the thought had formed in his own head.
Thranduil watched the sparring soldiers nearby and let his mind wander. He was pleased to see the bustle, evidence of the increase in population that they had seen since the war, though the kingdom remained smaller than it was in his father's reign. Decisively, he turned away from following darker thoughts, searching instead for other sources of joy. Reports showed that Berenil's idea of supplementing their livestock's feed with heather had led to more spring lambs. The spring harvests had been plentiful. Preparations for the summer festival were going well and there had been no attacks, though the foraging parties were coordinated and accompanied by guards, as Elluin had suggested.
Elluin herself had been another source of happiness, he admitted to himself. He respected her skills at diplomacy, as demonstrated with the Dwarves. And he admired her courage to stand up for her beliefs, despite the limits of her station. He considered once more whether he should not exert his right as sovereign to command her to join his council of advisors. Hers was a unique perspective, having been raised in Mithlond among Noldor and other Sindar before coming to Greenwood, living among the Silvans but experiencing palace life through her employment.
Thranduil resolved to be honest with himself. He relished the feeling that he could reveal his innermost thoughts in her presence, however unintentionally, and still be adored. Amid the pressures of his position, it was an unexpected gift. However, if she joined the council, it could be disastrous, as she seemed to peel away his mask of decorum. It would not be seemly for a king to bare his heart before his advisors. He had a hard enough time trying to conceal his moments of annoyance, anger, or fear as it was. No, he would not force her to join the council.
Sulros walked over with a cleaning cloth and oil, wanting to take the king's sword to polish, but Thranduil took the cloth and oil himself. Drawing out his blade as his servant silently withdrew, Thranduil set to work. To outside observers, it appeared as if his brow was furrowed in concentration. It served him, disguising his displeasure.
He knew that all his servants had many more gifts than they showed in their positions, but he still felt that Elluin could be put to use elsewhere, so that he could enjoy her soothing companionship more regularly… preferably without an audience.
Thranduil recognized with resigned sadness that what he was seeking was a friend where, he admitted to himself, he had none — not truly. He had a loving aunt and supportive distant kin, a handful of cherished mentors, and numerous devoted servants. But his family members and mentors were all older and tended to think of him as someone to guide, and his servants, however long they had known him, had not dared to open up to him or attempt any other connection. These types of relationships served him, and strengthened him and Greenwood in their own ways, though all of them lacked the reciprocity he sought.
With Elluin, on the other hand, the connection came unbidden. He found it easy to see her heart, and it was difficult to hide his own from her. It was almost too easy, almost enough to make him nervous. But now, he wished he could embrace it.
Thranduil studied his sword. The reflection on its surface was becoming clearer with each stroke of the cloth. He shifted the blade on his lap and resumed his movements.
He sighed as he thought of the practical implications beyond his own desires. Her current position required him to ignore her blatantly, so it had to change. Even if he could somehow offer her a different post that would allow him the opportunity to befriend her, would she feel compelled to accept it? Although he enjoyed her company and he recognized her intelligence, thoughtfulness, and generosity, he did not love her as a bond-mate. Would she see it as a cruel taunt to be close to him but not receive his love? Or would she consider it better to be his friend rather than his servant despite its limitations? He briefly allowed himself to wonder also if the time spent in friendship could perhaps lead to a change in his feelings...
That question could not be answered, but a simple conversation would tell him what Elluin would think of the matter of friendship. If he could devise some sort of plan, he could propose the idea to her at the summer festival.
His sword gleamed in his hand. With a satisfied smile, he sheathed it and walked lightly back toward the palace.
~.~.~
The sound of quiet scraping floated about the warm workshop as Elluin stepped through the doorway. Amid a myriad of tables, benches, weapons stands, and podiums, she spotted a brown-haired ellon bent over a project, filing away at a twining piece of silver that would serve as a brooch for a lady of the court. Elluin was not well acquainted with Umen, his work with precious metals not coinciding with any of her own duties beyond occasional deliveries. Her father, however, sometimes coordinated with him on finer pieces.
She lightly cleared her throat and greeted him, "Good evening, Master Umen."
"Hmm?" The Elf finally drew his concentration away from the piece and lifted his head. "Ah, good evening, Elluin. May I help you?"
"I was sent by Lord Galion to inform you that he wishes to speak with you."
"Did he say what about?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Indeed," he mused, sitting back in his chair and studying the elleth for a moment. "Very well, I will go directly." He rose and walked over to her, gesturing for her to give him her hand, which she did with some surprise. "Thank you for the message, my dear. Send my regards to your father," he said with a smile, leisurely sliding his other hand over hers and gently squeezing her fingers for a brief moment before releasing her.
Elluin walked out behind him and he gave her another bright smile before taking the path toward the palace. Although she did not know the Elf well, Elluin had not thought him to be so affectionate. Perhaps something changed, she thought as she started walking home.
~.~.~
Elluin nibbled a piece of fresh bread as she watched the palace runners bicker among themselves in the corner. Shouts and laughter interspersed with the occasional piece of food or cleaning cloth were tossed from one young Elf to another.
"Dinen," she murmured to the lead cook through a smile, "you should have more control over what goes on in your kitchen."
"By Nienna's tears, Elluin, I do not have such power," came the older elleth's exasperated response. "Though I daresay they do well enough once they step outside the door."
Maethon jogged in with the king's empty breakfast tray. Having heard their conversation, he adopted his usual stern expression and raised his voice to make sure the youths in question heard him. "Perhaps if you keep them properly busy in here all day, Dinen, they would learn to respect your kitchen more."
The bickering came to an abrupt halt as wide eyes stared between the king's body servant and the cook. The silence did not last long, as Elluin joined several other servants in laughter.
Maethon joined her at her table and nodded in greeting.
"When I left, the king was contemplating the daisy from his tray," he said, his lips hinting at a smile.
Elluin smiled gleefully in response, then glanced around quickly and struggled to adopt a more neutral expression, not wanting the others to guess at the cause.
Maethon realized her goal and changed the subject. "Have you seen Turiel?" he asked, accepting a chunk of bread from his companion.
"I went yesterday to see her new workspace," Elluin answered. "They built a new talan for her above the stables, as she requested, and my father has nearly completed the cages she ordered. He just waits now for the metal clasps… from the forge."
Maethon's eyes twinkled in amusement. The Elves still found it strange to have a pair of Dwarves as the sole blacksmiths, especially since the forge was so close to the palace and in easy view of many, but none could deny their skill. Fortunately, their selected Elven apprentices quickly overcame their apprehension at the strange association and were learning much. The Dwarves, though stern, were just as determined to uphold their people's agreement and completed all the commissioned tasks to the expected degree of excellence. But more than once, their poor Elven students had lost patience and come storming into the kitchens complaining about their impossibly stubborn teachers.
Galion strode into the kitchens with his hands clasped behind his back and the usual respectable air of superiority. Conversation lulled once more as the servants awaited the day's assignments.
"Our meals will be kept simple until the day of the summer festival," Galion began, receiving a nod from Dinen. "Many of our people living in the palace have offered to help forage today as part of our preparations. Rosganar," he said to the soldier in the corner, "have the captain ready a small escort.
"We will have most of our runners join, as well," Galion continued, smiling slightly at the excited faces of the younger Elves. "Elluin, you will attend the king with his audiences in the throne room." Elluin bowed her head in acknowledgment. She found it strange that she should receive such a duty today, as Galion usually respected her preference to be part of foraging groups. However, she would happily forego a day of foraging in the forest she loved in order to be by the king's side.
"Dinen, he will need refreshments to last him the day and likely plenty of wine," the steward finished with a muted smile.
"Very well," the cook said, hiding her own grin with a nod.
"To your posts." Galion dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
~.~.~
The warm breezes of early summer wafted through the deep green leaves. Elven voices sang to celebrate the life and the abundant gifts of the forest. The trees added their own strains to the song, echoing their pleasure in the season.
Within the palace, the Elvenking could hear the singing faintly from his throne. Elves who worked near the palace, village leaders, and advisors were admitted one after the other in a steady stream to give their reports or make their requests. Galion also bustled in and out frequently, asking the king about the specifics of how he wished his decisions executed wherever there was ambiguity.
Thranduil enjoyed these days. His people were busy and at times their various problems were stressful, but there was an undercurrent of joy and hope. Though the recent attack on the realm was far from forgotten, they had healed enough for the dark memories to give way more easily to the light of companionship, plenty, and safety.
Elluin had noticed this mood, as well. During the stolen moments when she would look up at Thranduil's face, she saw his softer expression. His voice was not as sharp when he gave judgments, and he listened with more patience. Her heart soared knowing that his own had some relief from its burdens.
Thranduil had just sent away a potter with permission to dig for clay by the stream that provided water for the palace kitchens. The guards saw him out and admitted the next party as Elluin moved quickly to refill the king's goblet. She thought it best not to risk a look at his face as she did so for fear that she would do something untoward.
As she walked down again, she was somewhat surprised to see Berenil coming in. He smiled at her as he walked past her but Elluin could see the sorrow of his wife's death lingering in his gaze. Elluin resumed her post by the wall, lowering her gaze to the floor despite her curiosity.
Thranduil and his advisor exchanged words of greeting, then silence fell as the king waited for him to explain the purpose of his formal audience.
Berenil looked warmly at the Elf he had known since his birth, helped raise into his royal mantle, and called king for over three hundred years.
"My king," he began, his usual steady tone burdened with heaviness, "I request to be released from your service to travel to the west."
Elluin stifled a gasp from her post but could not keep tears from welling in her eyes. Thranduil's lips parted, but he remained otherwise still, waiting for his advisor to continue.
"My wife's death has taken its toll. I find there is no joy left for me on the hither shores." Berenil gave a small, apologetic smile. "I stayed this long simply because I could not abandon the kingdom in the aftermath of the attack. But things are settled now. The court is competent. The people are content. The king no longer requires my guidance."
Silence lingered for the space of a breath before Thranduil could bring himself to respond. "I value your confidence, Berenil." His eyes openly shone with uncertainty.
Immediately interpreting his king's doubts, Berenil elaborated. "It is well placed, my king. You know that I loved your father and served him faithfully during his rule, but I declare with no reservations that you are a far better king. You are more open-minded and use our resources more efficiently. You love the forest better and the people love you more for it. You have earned the willing support of the entire kingdom."
Berenil surprised Elluin by looking over to her. She still had her eyes trained to the ground, but she looked up when she felt his gaze and was startled to see him smile directly at her before he turned back to the king, who had caught the gesture with muted surprise. The older ellon continued, "Whatever you do not already have within yourself will be readily supplied by those who love you."
Thranduil blinked, absorbing the words. He was mostly able to hide the torrent of emotions behind his eyes but there was one feeling he would not leave unexpressed. He rose from the throne and steadily walked down the steps to stand before the Elf who had been a mentor to him for most of his life. Placing a hand on the Elf's shoulder, he nodded with a sigh. "Though it gives me no joy, Berenil, I will release you from my service. You have more than earned the right to seek solace in the Undying Lands. You leave a kingdom and a king that are better for your efforts. You have my gratitude."
Berenil returned the gesture. "Thank you, my king."
They lowered their arms and Berenil bowed. Thranduil's eyes followed his advisor as he left the room, but then landed on Elluin, who was again looking at the floor.
"Elluin, how long do you think it will be until he leaves?" Thranduil asked quietly even as he turned back toward his throne.
The elleth was thankful that he did not see how she struggled to blink back tears. "Lord Berenil's belongings are mostly packed already," she said in as steady a voice as she could muster, recalling the casual observation made by the elleth who had cleaned it the day prior. "There is a small party of our people that will be departing after the summer festival. He will likely ask to travel with them now that he has the king's permission."
"How could I keep him?" Thranduil asked rhetorically, his voice tinged with sadness. He was no longer surprised at himself for revealing the sentiment in front of Elluin.
Elluin still was not used to the king's openness but dared to take advantage of it by speaking again. "Sire, I believe Lord Berenil would be happy to carry a message to the Lady Elemmire."
Thranduil looked at her sharply. It had been many, many years since his mother's name had been spoken aloud in front of him. The initial pain that he always suffered as he remembered when she left was quickly overcome by the hope born from Elluin's statement. It would be a balm to his spirit to write to his mother, telling her of everything he had accomplished after her departure. Somehow, just the thought of what he would say was encouraging, realizing all that he was able to achieve even without her support.
"Yes," he finally agreed as he resumed his walk up to the throne. He took the seat and marveled that the loss of his closest advisor did not daunt him as much as he thought it would.
Gesturing absently for the guards to show in the next audience, Thranduil let his lips to twitch into a grateful smile in Elluin's direction and allowed himself to revel for the briefest moment in the love he hoped always to find in her eyes.