"The next item for discussion is the matter of trade," Lord Derion announced. It was near the end of a council meeting which had Thranduil in an optimistic mood. "Galion has informed me that the stores of summer harvest are sufficiently plentiful that we may be able to negotiate some continued service from the Dwarves."
The Elvenking hid his frown. Regardless of how satisfied he had been about the outcomes of their latest interactions with the Children of Aule and the respect he held for King Droin, he found the negotiations unnecessarily taxing. His thoughts shifted again to Elluin who had helped him with the latest conflict with the Dwarven blacksmiths. Remembering her grace and wisdom as she stood by his side left a warm glow in his heart.
"Sire, you had mentioned before that Dwarf soldiers could be employed to aid in protecting the borders," Derion continued.
"What have you heard from our blacksmith apprentices?" Thranduil asked instead of responding.
"Brondor and Gelluiven feel that by the end of the year, they will have a solid mastery of the basic craft," the lord answered.
"And ore?"
Derion pursed his lips. "I did not ask, sire. I shall investigate the matter."
Thranduil gave a nod. "If we are to continue trade relations with the Dwarves, I would prefer to trade for metal we can use instead of Dwarf soldiers offering questionable vigilance, roaming armed around our kingdom."
The council members bowed their heads to acknowledge the decision.
Lady Anarrima spoke next. "My king, the wool has been plentiful and nearly all of it is spun. But the Elves of the craft tell me that they cannot dye it, for the stream beds are dry. There may be a delay in woolen goods unless we have rain soon."
Out of the corner of his eye, Thranduil noticed Galion write down a note he knew he would share with Elluin. His mind conjured the image of her sitting at her desk, golden hair slipping over her shoulder as she bent over the notes, scanning the words with those intelligent, hopeful, enchanting eyes.
Lady Raegdis broke him from his thoughts, addressing the room. "Will any other operations suffer from the lack of rain?"
Galion spoke up now. "The fall harvests are at risk," he said. "Lady Elluin is currently heading a foraging expedition on the Dark Mountains to gather fruits before they wither. She was expecting a very productive journey."
The Elvenking's eyes shot to his steward. Galion decided not to look up, feeling the king's weighty gaze of displeasure on him and dearly wishing to avoid it. "They should be back in two days," Galion finished.
Captain Telior broke in, "General Cembeleg says that rain will come tomorrow."
"That would help matters," Anarrima mentioned. She trusted that this information came from the general's wife, a Silvan inhabitant of Greenwood for more than an age and well attuned to the signs in its sky.
Thranduil gave orders to determine what effects the drought will have on other crafts and whether certain villages were more impacted than others in order to determine appropriate distribution of goods. If the council members noticed the somewhat agitated edge to his voice, they attributed it to the drought, but the steward knew better. Galion remained behind after the king dismissed the advisors, anticipating where Thranduil's mind would be.
"Sire, I sent Lady Elluin along with four other servants and three soldiers," he ventured after a bow. "They went well supplied. However, I would like to request that a scouting party be sent in their direction tomorrow in case the weather turns foul and they need help transporting the harvest back."
"Granted," the king swiftly answered.
Thranduil left the room ahead of his steward, his long strides carrying him swiftly to his chambers where Sulros awaited him. Seeing the king's face, the servant remained silent as he helped Thranduil out of his formal attire and into his training clothes. Sulros dared not ask but knew that the king had some frustration that the poor recruits would certainly feel at the end of his blade on the sparring fields.
~.~.~
The start of autumn usually brought brightly colored leaves, turning the ceiling and floor of the forest into a mosaic of fiery hues. But this season had been unusually dry. Withered brown leaves now dominated the landscape, creating a brittle carpet that crunched beneath the feet of the Elves and hooves of the mules that lingered on the outskirts of the trees. Elluin and her company had already gathered many grapes and apples. Now they were collecting pine cones into burlap bags hanging over the harness of a patient mule. A wind had picked up and knocked many to the ground, allowing the Elves to gather them easily.
Bending to pick up another handful, Elluin found herself remembering the many times she had gone into the king's chambers and done the same. Instead of pine cones, it had been clothing, pieces of parchment, bits of arrow fletching, polishing cloths for weapons, books… She had always preferred when the books had nothing to do with politics or history, that the king had read simply for enjoyment. Elluin had occasionally walked by his chamber on some errand and spotted Thranduil in those rare moments — his legs casually crossed over the arm of the chair he sat in, bare feet idly swinging in the air, and a book resting on his stomach. What she wouldn't give to see the same relaxed expression on his face again, the same that he wore after their trip to the waterfall — his brow smooth, with the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly.
As Elluin took a deep breath, she felt a twinge in her chest that she could not attribute to the high altitude. It was disappointment. Why did the king distance himself from her? Was he unwilling to embrace their friendship enough to experience more of such moments with her? She disguised a huff under the movement of tugging a sack to another spot on the ground and rebuked herself inwardly. The king was wise; there had to be a better reason. Maybe it was just self-contemplation, as Maethon guessed. And as Elluin herself had said, discovering one's own mind was a worthy pastime. She knew she should allow Thranduil the space to do so.
But she could not deny that, selfishly, she missed him. She had counted it an enormous privilege to be allowed a glimpse into Thranduil's heart, however painful the memories that lingered there. Elluin sighed. There was nothing to be done, after all, but wait until he decided to summon her again.
Aurados, leisurely keeping watch as one of the soldiers assigned to the group, shifted uneasily on his feet. "A storm approaches," he warned, watching the tall white clouds crest the mountain's nearby peaks just north of where they stood.
Elluin bade the servants hurry in their task alongside her, and asked one of the soldiers to calm the other two mules, who were fidgeting under their loads and starting to tug at the leads that had been tied to a low branch.
The late morning sky turned dark as the suddenly humid wind carried huge gray clouds to loom over them. An unknown force bade the Elves drop their chores and they stood still, listening. A rumble could be heard vibrating through the air as the rustling leaves whispered a warning of their own.
An ominous instant of silence settled over the space and they felt their skin tingling.
With a deafening boom and a flash of blinding light, a nearby pine tree ignited in flame.
~.~.~
Captain Telior dodged the largest puddles and skidded to a halt beside Thranduil, who was reclining against the outer walls of the barracks with his arms crossed over his chest. Telior ignored the barely-concealed scowl on his king's face as he watched drenched soldiers in their last drills of the day, apparently heedless of the heavy rainfall that had persisted since its thunderous start at midday.
"Sire," Telior said with a salute, "we have reports of fire on the Dark Mountains, from a lightning strike."
Almost without realizing it, Thranduil had jumped to his feet.
"The foragers?"
"Safe, my king," the captain quickly assured. "Only a few suffered some very minor singes. They came down the mountain quickly enough to avoid the worst of it. It seems the rainfall has finally doused the flames."
Thranduil closed his eyes in relief.
"The messenger said the group decided to return today, as some have predicted that the rain will last long," Telior continued. "The scouting party is assisting them as much as they can, but they are quite far, and the rain will hinder their speed. They will likely reach the palace shortly after midnight."
Thranduil paused before nodding his dismissal. There was nothing more to be done…except try to quell his rage.
~.~.~
Galion bowed meekly as he entered the royal chambers, conscious of the thundercloud expression on his king's face, a direct reflection of the weather. "My king, the foraging party has nearly reached the palace," he said.
"Send the housekeeper to me immediately," Thranduil seethed, staring daggers into a full goblet of wine beside him. He barely heard Galion scuttle out – he was too angry. He had finally come to a realization about what Elluin was to him, only to discover that he could not inform her because she had left the palace. Then he heard she had been in danger, and it infuriated him to no end. This was an unnecessary risk to her safety. Belatedly he remembered that there were other servants helping, as well. Then he easily dismissed the thought to focus back on the elleth that had occupied his mind most of late. To jeopardize that which he found to be…
He had some words for his housekeeper, he thought, though he was still unsure what they would be.
Thranduil forced himself to take a sip of wine to encourage calm. Suddenly his formal robes seemed stifling and he removed them, and then his boots, eager to feel the smooth wood of the royal talan beneath his bare feet to help ground him. He was angry that there had been a risk to his people. This was nothing new, however, and it could not be prevented. He could not keep his soldiers safely in the barracks in favor of allowing enemies to threaten the kingdom; he could not keep foragers safely in the palace and starve his people.
His heart swelled as he realized that orders prioritizing short-term safety above long-term prosperity would not be obeyed, even if he were ever inclined to issue them. The citizens of Greenwood were brave and good-hearted. They would not deprive each other of their individual gifts. However, it did not reduce the sting that he could not keep safe the people he held most dear. This was why he was angry now. He huffed, both in anger and in frustration with the futility of the emotion.
But perhaps not all his feelings were futile. His housekeeper was certainly on her way to him now, and he had the opportunity to act on what he felt. Could he tell Elluin now what he had come to discover — what his heart and mind finally revealed after sifting through them, day after day?
The contradictions gathered in his mind, as they usually did. What would the point be? Even if she knew his feelings, he could no less keep her cooped in the palace for her own protection than he could any of his beloved servants.
But there was joy to be had, he argued with himself.
He drained his wine goblet, the conflicts still churning in his mind.