36 - Brewing
Galion tapped a finger on the ledger in front of him.
"We are fortunately not hard pressed with rations, as the summer stores are brimming," Elluin mentioned, interrupting the steward's thoughts. "Autumn has its own bounty, but we have had little rain and I fear some fruits may be lost soon."
"What can be gathered now?" he asked, still admittedly out of touch with the flora beyond what could be seen from the palace.
"I have heard some of the soldiers hunting higher up in the mountains say that grapes are abundant along the slopes where trees are sparse," she answered. "It is the season for them. And while we are there, we can gather apples, dock seeds, fir needles, and pine nuts. Perhaps even hawthorn berries."
"We?" Galion raised an eyebrow at her.
"Oh," Elluin dropped her head, hesitating before she explained. "I suppose I have become accustomed to the mid-fall trips into the mountains to forage with other palace servants. Perhaps I would do better to stay here given my new position." She tried not to let regret tinge her voice, but Galion was perceptive.
"On the other hand," he considered, "since you have taken charge of the inventories, none know better than you what amounts of each resource would be ideal to bring back to the palace. I think that if you wish to go, it would fall within the scope of your duties."
Elluin could not help a hopeful smile. Remaining within the palace walls so much of late had led her to feel somewhat stifled. The transition from summer to fall had her busy rotating goods, arranging to commission new wool products to replace timeworn or otherwise substandard ones in time for winter, and preparing the autumn produce cellar. Furthermore, the palace lacked some appeal to her due to the king's frequent absence. He had spent the last several weeks either in council meetings or supervising the training of the new generation of recruited soldiers. Elluin had seen him only a few times in passing during this interval. She knew that an excursion into her beloved trees would distract her from missing her meetings with him.
"Very well," she resolved, "I will accompany the group."
"I shall make the arrangements for you and four kitchen servants to leave in three days," Galion decided, "along with two soldiers. How long will you need?"
"Perhaps four days," she answered. "I estimate we will need three mules, also."
"You shall have them." Galion hesitated for a moment, studying the elleth before him and hiding a sudden pang of worry. "Three soldiers, I think, instead of two," he said.
~.~.~
Cheerful birdsong erupted from the flet in waves, nearly masking the conversation of the three Elves comfortably seated upon it.
"It is a fine thing you are starting, friend," Maethon told Turiel with an approving nod. "You have certainly chosen well for your reward."
"Hold your tongue until these birds are fully trained," the elleth answered, revealing some of her apprehension. "They are far from useful yet, I fear."
"But very charming," Elluin said with a smile. Turiel had shown them some tricks she had taught the birds she selected to start Greenwood's message system. They were thus far able to fly from one perch onto another that Turiel indicated by tapping on it with a stick and mimicking their social call. "I hope you are satisfied with your decision and your progress since you started." Elluin allowed her pride for her friend to show in her eyes.
"I am," Turiel admitted. "However, I do miss seeing the two of you as often as I did when I was a palace servant." The unspoken thought hung in the air: especially now that her parents were gone.
"We are worth missing," Maethon said easily, his face serene as he continued observing the birds.
The ellith smiled briefly, recognizing the tease as an attempt to lift Turiel's spirits before Elluin poked Maethon in the side. "We have missed you as well, Turiel," Elluin said, her smile fading. "It does become lonely sometimes in the palace."
"You have not seen the king lately, have you?" Turiel guessed with a knowing look.
Elluin hung her head. "He has been busy training the new recruits..." Her tone indicated she was not convinced of the reason.
Turiel frowned. "You believe he wishes not to see you anymore?" she asked incredulously.
"What else am I to think?" Elluin asked forlornly. "It is well known that General Cembeleg has trained all the new recruits since the start of King Oropher's reign, and his captains are more than capable of assisting."
Maethon sighed heavily and lay flat on his back, staring now at the night sky through the slowly coloring leaves above them. "I have never found myself in this position before," he grumbled. "My duties implicitly require me never to speak of what I observe in my service to the king; and yet, my friendship compels me otherwise."
Elluin looked at him hopefully but the ellon remained silent.
After a long moment, Turiel huffed. "Come, now, Maethon. Whatever you share will be for the benefit of them both, I am sure."
Maethon turned his head to cast a thoughtful look at his friends. He permitted the space of a few more breaths to pass, then finally sighed again in resignation. "Very well." He sat up and crossed his legs as he faced Elluin, considering the floor for a moment before lifting his eyes to meet her gaze.
"Recently, every day that I tend to the king, he picks up whatever flower is on his breakfast tray and stares at it for a while. He eats little. In morning council meetings he behaves as always, though it usually seems like he is displeased when a servant brings in refreshments. Soon after the meeting, he changes quickly into his training clothes. He has his midday meal with the soldiers and indulges in a few sparring rounds with them. As I suspect you know, he feels the least like a king when he is among fellow warriors."
The elleth nodded.
"He usually spars a few rounds with the captains or particularly promising recruits. After that, he watches them silently as the general puts them through their drills – for hours," Maethon emphasized. "And in all those silent moments, he seems to be looking inside himself. He is not conflicted or anxious, simply...contemplating something within."
Elluin considered the words. "What can be weighing on his mind this way?"
"It does not weigh," Maethon clarified. "He is happy."
"Happy?" Turiel interjected, her tone disbelieving.
"Yes," Maethon answered. "His smile comes easier and his words are not as severe as they have been. But I confess it would take someone close to him to notice."
"So you have eyes in your head after all," Turiel teased.
Maethon frowned in displeasure at Turiel before turning back to Elluin.
"If you ask me what I think," he said slowly, as if the words were heavy, "I would say he is considering just how much of an impact his new mistress of the household has on him. And he is realizing it is considerable, and very good."
Elluin frowned and shook her head. "I do not dare to hope that I am within his thoughts, especially since he has not spared me even a glance for weeks. He could be thinking of any number of other things," she argued. "He could be considering leaving for Valinor, for all we know, with his heart becoming ever more at peace with the decision." She tried to quell the panic that rose in her chest with the possibility.
"No," Maethon said firmly, shaking his head in emphasis. "His heart is in Greenwood." His meaningful stare returned a small amount of peace to Elluin, and some color to her cheeks.
"Have faith," Turiel said. "He will seek you out again."
"Is this your marvelous Silvan intuition?" Elluin asked, only half teasing.
"It is a friend's hope," she answered truthfully, her eyes apologetic but confident.
Elluin gave her friends a grateful smile, taking a moment to relish their support. "And it is this friend's hope," she said finally, "that these birds will soon be fully trained."
Turiel chuckled. "Nothing will stop me!"
~.~.~
Thranduil always enjoyed midnight walks through the woods, regardless of whatever else he was feeling. It had been long indeed since he had done so without a sense of dread for the future, and he reveled in the fact. The cool night air had a soothing quality that combined with the starlight to make his light heart sing. He stretched out his senses as he did his long legs, listening for the spark inside the trees, while the touch of wind in the canopy almost masked their whispers.
His heart was nearing a conclusion, and it had shaken him to realize what it was. There was such joy in him that he could not remember feeling since before the fall of Menegroth. While the burdens of his past still lay heavy on his spirit, he now felt, for the first time in countless years, that the future held a promise beyond what had to be achieved through strife.
In his mind's eye, Thranduil conjured the image of an elleth with the green sash of his household draping down over one strong but slender shoulder, the other shoulder draped with waves of golden hair. He saw her shining blue eyes and the depths of joy and love within them, and cheeks that puffed pleasantly with every sweet smile.
Thranduil marveled that the forest did not tremble with this change in the heart of its king. He felt enough optimism about his own healing and her strength to believe in a shared future with such a tender lady. He would risk it. He would seize the chance.
He sang, then, allowing the words to float into the surrounding forest like an autumn mist. Recognizing the voice of the king of Greenwood, each leaf seemed to reach out, silently soaking in the sound as the words rolled from his lips.
*At last, when all the summer's shine
That warmed my life's first years is past
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close - at last - at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled, -
But you, dear heart, you love me now.
~.~
Though there are shadows on my brow
And scars within my heart, in truth, -
The marks where time's remorseless plow
Broke up my spirit's blissful youth
Though fled is innocence's grace
That might have earned a lover's vow
Despite my sad and faded face
And darkened heart, you love me now!
~.~
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!
~.~.~
Soronume looked skeptically at the sky through the window as twilight drained it of color.
"My dear," Linalda called to him from her chair, her eyes not leaving the hem of a robe she was embroidering, "what has you so entranced?"
Instead of answering his wife, the ellon turned to Elluin. "You mean to go through with your plan? Are you sure you must go tomorrow?" he asked.
"Yes, father," Elluin answered calmly. "All the arrangements are made. I would have the autumn harvests in the palace storerooms instead of shriveled on the dry forest floor." She looked up from lighting a lantern to cast a curious glance at him. "Why? Is something amiss?"
He shook his head, eyes still on the sky. "I am not certain. I do not know these skies as well as I knew those of Lindon, but I feel like a storm may be brewing."
Elluin hummed in thought. "I will have everyone bring oiled leather cloaks, then. Some rain would be well received."
"Yes," Soronume murmured, obviously still distracted.
"It seems like you are quite comfortable in your new position now, Elluin," Linalda broke in, changing the subject. "I know it is more responsibility, but you are suited to it."
"Thank you, mother," Elluin smiled at her as she brought the lantern closer to her. "I do believe Galion appreciates the assistance. He seems somewhat more cheerful of late."
"And you are more busy!" Linalda continued. "Is it not too great a burden?"
"It is an unpleasant change not to see my friends, and you and father, quite as often," Elluin admitted. "But there have been some rewards."
"Oh, indeed," her mother mused quietly with a small smile.
* Adapted from the poem "At Last" by Elizabeth Akers Allen
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