All sound in the Greenwood was muffled except the crackle of dry leaves and branches scraping against each other in the light breeze. The edges of a finely made cloak fluttered about the end of the fallen tree trunk over which it was draped. The snow was slow in receding from the woodland floor today, despite the cheery sunshine, and the two Elves sitting on the cloak minded not at all.
Elluin's mood was especially light, given that her father had recently been given leave to continue his recovery at home. She had been so pleased and relieved at her father's steadily increasing health as to begin considering a return to her duties as housekeeper.
"Is Galion not overwhelmed, Thranduil?" she asked, pulling her eyes away from the captivating winter scene to study the Elf at her side. "With you coming on these escapes with me, and I abandoning all my normal tasks, he must surely be taking responsibility for too much."
"I have given him permission to delegate as much as he is able to the other council members," Thranduil answered nonchalantly. "And since they have been so uncharacteristically obliging since my return from patrol, I intend to take advantage." He turned a bright smile toward her that nearly stopped her heart for joy. "Do you not agree, my heart?"
"I do not deny that I love this time with you," Elluin said, squeezing Thranduil's hand. "But I feel I am betraying the trust of the palace servants by staying away."
"You know, when you become queen, your new duties to me will similarly demand your time."
She noted the mischief in the ellon's eyes as he spoke.
"This is no different," he continued. "Your king has need of you."
Elluin knew, of course, that Thranduil's words were largely in jest. They both knew that the responsibilities of his station would require his undivided attention again before long, and that he was simply making the most of the brief respites he had been granted of late. But Elluin saw through the lightness to perceive that the words were true.
"I am happy to comply with the king's wishes," Elluin replied honestly.
Since the sun had begun westering, they packed their small basket and started a lazy trail back toward the palace, hand in hand, each speaking of what they still planned to accomplish that afternoon.
"I thought to take my father for a walk this evening," Elluin concluded. "He feels so much better that I do not think it would tax him now."
The elleth could sense the lingering relief in Thranduil's expression as he murmured pleased agreement, and knew that he was just as grateful as she was that Soronume had survived.
"I know I have already thanked you for all you did to support my father during his illness and recovery," she said, "but I wish to thank you for what you did for me, also."
Thranduil's smile disappeared, though he kept his eyes on the canopy. "I felt so inadequate," he confessed. "Beyond ensuring you had meals and rest, there was nothing I could do."
"You were there, Thranduil," she replied immediately. "I felt you there the whole time, whether by my side or in the next room, though I did not always have the presence of mind to even acknowledge you. I know you dismissed the comforts of the palace and the expectations of the court to be with me. You bolstered my hope. And though it does not bear thinking what could have happened if Thalven had not come, or if Maluven were delayed…" She wiped at brimming tears in an attempt to master herself, but her voice was strained as she continued. "...I know that, if the worst had happened, you would have been there, still, grieving with me and lending me your strength."
Thranduil dropped her hand to stop and pull her into an embrace. She relished his warmth as she pressed against him, and the steady beat of his heart. Elluin allowed herself to be comforted, and soon her breaths were once again steady and she was able to enjoy the feel of his muscled torso beneath her hands.
"It gladdens me to know I was not entirely useless, my heart," he said, his tone light even as he ran a reverent hand over her hair and down her back to press her closer. "Whatever I have to give is yours."
A stone's throw from where they stood, a branch abandoned a load of snow to crash wetly onto the forest floor. Elluin felt Thranduil tense as his head swiveled to the sound, his arms tightening around her protectively. A breath later, he relaxed and pursed his lips in displeasure.
"One of your guards?" Elluin guessed.
"Indeed," he confirmed as they resumed their walk. "Not all of them are as silent as they should be."
"One could hardly expect them not to disturb any snow," she said.
Thranduil hummed noncommittally.
"I shall have Dinen notified that you will have a later supper than usual," Elluin concluded after a moment. In answer to the ellon's questioning glance, she smiled and clarified, "I assume you will be on the training grounds as soon as you are unoccupied."
Her companion chuckled. "I had not yet come to that conclusion, myself. But that is exactly what I would have decided." He looked at her appreciatively and kissed the hand he held.
~.~.~
As predicted, the afternoons of bliss soon ceased. Along with managing the normal business of running the kingdom, the blacksmith training arrangement with the Dwarves was due to cease in a few weeks, and the king's council was eager to find a way to continue friendly relations with Khazad-dum. A group of Men also came from further north, failing to disguise their desperation for aid behind vehement recommendations for trade. Many of their crops suffered in the drought that had also touched Greenwood a few months past, leaving them with insufficient stores to last the winter.
These issues saw Soronume frequently pulled into meetings alongside his daughter. The other council members relied upon the Elves of the Havens to recommend items and services that Men could offer that would be of interest to the Woodland Realm. Of course, given the degree of the Men's need, the king had consented to provide an immediate gift of foodstuffs while the details of the trade arrangements could be determined.
Before long, it was time to prepare for the Feast of Awakening, planned as usual to occur when the flowers began to bloom on the birch trees at the start of spring. Galion and Elluin collaborated to ensure the palace stores would be sufficient to provide the meal, given how much had been traded away over the winter. They both resolved that, given the likelihood of the continued trade of the forest's bounty, the palace staff would be more often employed in foraging moving forward than in previous years. Elluin and Dinen were resourceful and creative enough to design a menu that was both attainable and worthy of a palace feast.
Thranduil received updates on the feast preparations directly from his housekeeper, but only during council meetings. To their regret, neither Elluin nor the king had the luxury of time to see each other privately. When Thranduil was not attending to the business of the council, or on the training ground, he was called to several places throughout the kingdom on errands he felt unable to abandon, leaving in the afternoons and often not returning until the early morning.
These errands were always the same. Sulros or Maethon would approach Elluin after breakfast in the mornings and have her prepare a large basket from the palace's stores and larders. After completing his tasks for the day, Thranduil would take the basket and travel with a small guard and a clerk to visit the family of a soldier who had died in the Attack of the Unseen Army, or had left for the Undying Lands in the aftermath. He would take an inventory of their needs and inquire, as gently as he could, whether they intended to remain in the realm.
If his hosts were willing, he would spend the evening with them in conversation about the departed. The pain was sweet in the king's heart on those nights, regretting the loss but finding solace in fond memories. Other times, the family was obviously still in mourning, and would remain politely silent. Those nights were bitter, and sat like stones in Thranduil's gut. It was on those nights that the burden of kingship seemed heaviest. On the ride back to the palace through the forest by night, he was given far too much time to contemplate his duty to safeguard his people, every instance in which he failed to do so, and the result of that failure shining brightly in the eyes of deprived loved ones.
~.~.~
Sulros laid out a peach-colored robe embroidered in silver with leaves and vines. He set them beside the crisp white shirt and gray breeches that would go beneath before turning toward the sound of sloshing water.
He studied the king in profile for a moment, taking in the uncharacteristic slight slump in the shoulders and the hint of a crease between the brows. But what scared Sulros most was the look in Thranduil's eyes as he stared into the lightly scented water. He knew that look, knew that it meant the king was at the brink of a chasm that would immerse him with a single motivated step into a world drained of joy or satisfaction.
If the past was any teacher, Sulros knew exactly what the cure was. Or, rather, who.
He took a fortifying breath and walked toward the tub. "The Feast of Awakening is much anticipated among the Silvans this year, sire," Sulros mentioned as he held up a towel. "To many, it seemed that winter would never end. And yet, now we see the new leaves emerging and our beloved birches heavy with blooms. It is a hopeful sight."
"Yes, springtime in Greenwood always holds such promise," Thranduil answered absently.
"And I hear that the Lady Elluin has made arrangements for nearly all the palace staff to be in attendance, except for those serving at the feast. It is to be quite a party," Sulros continued. "Will you be dancing, sire?"
Thranduil briefly met his servant's eyes and Sulros nearly dropped the brush he was holding when he perceived the emptiness there. "That remains to be seen," came the deceptively casual answer.
Sulros felt his heartbeat quicken in alarm, but would not be so easily deterred.
"It is good to dance at the Feast of Awakening. It is a rebirth. After the shadowy slumber of winter come the buds, and the hope of fruitfulness and plenty. And after walking about in a boring, brown forest, it is good to once again be greeted by color and life. So good, in fact, that we dance in it for joy."
"Will you dance, Sulros?" Thranduil deflected, allowing his shirt to be adjusted.
"Most certainly, sire," the servant pressed. "There are a number of ellith I believe would be happy to take a turn with me. I am told that Lady Elluin is particularly eager to celebrate all the promise of new life and abundance this evening."
"Indeed," the king muttered, obediently lowering his head for his crown to be placed on it. New fern leaves and snowdrop blossoms had been arranged among the twigs. The arresting sight almost distracted Sulros from the longing in the clear blue eyes staring out from beneath them. But before he could react, Thranduil was already holding out his arms to have his sash tied about his waist. He lost no time walking toward the door once it was done.
"Aren't you coming?" Thranduil asked over his shoulder.
Sulros tried to keep his confusion off his face. What was wrong with the king? Despite the unsettling worry that gripped his heart, the servant assumed his usual carefree tone and fell into step behind his master. "Of course, sire."
~.~.~
Thranduil studied Elluin as she danced, her enjoyment evident in her laughter and the enthusiasm of her movements. Night had descended, but the clear sky afforded a brilliant view of the stars, echoed in the white lanterns hung about the clearing where the Elves had gathered. As was the custom for the Feast of Awakening, the guests donned whatever jewels they had, and these sparkled like ice crystals on belts and necklaces. The twirling dancers turned the forest floor into an imitation of the nightly celestial spiral, while the flowers plaited into their hair pulled the treasures of the earth into equal reverence. The gems of Aule, the stars of Varda, and the flowers of Yavanna were all honored tonight.
The Elvenking, in contrast to the joviality of the scene, stood motionless at one end of the clearing, flanked by his silent general. There was a darkness pressing against the corners of Thranduil's spirit, seeking release. It was as familiar to him as any old friend, as tangible as the Elf beside him. In the past, he usually allowed himself space to acknowledge this darkness before smothering it again as best he could. It had been long, indeed, since it had surfaced, after feeling that enticing and mirthful burst of heartsong upon finding his love for Elluin. But here it was again, in full force, as if trying to regain all the ground it had lost during his extended time of peace.
"Is there something amiss, my king?" Cembeleg's rough voice interrupted his thoughts.
Thranduil glanced over, noting with dark amusement that the general looked decidedly uncomfortable with prying into his companion's emotions, especially in this convivial space that was neither a battleground nor a training field.
Thranduil debated on how much to reveal, and turned his gaze back to the dancers—back to Elluin, with the skirts of her airy rose-colored gown fluttering about her as she spun with the rest, bright blue eyes sparkling with merriment. His heart clenched further.
"I am a wretched thing," Thranduil said in a near whisper.
Cembeleg looked sharply at him. "What do you mean, sire? I doubt anyone would describe you thus."
"Perhaps not now," came the swift reply.
Cembeleg followed the king's gaze to the golden-haired maiden and drew the conclusion. "No, my king, not ever," he insisted.
Thranduil made no move to acknowledge the statement.
"Sire," the general said, daring to place a hand on his companion's shoulder, "trust an old married soldier. Do not recoil from her."
Thranduil finally turned a weary expression to his mentor, stubborn disbelief obvious in his eyes.
"I speak the truth, my king," Cembeleg said, growing concerned.
The king simply turned his gaze back to the whirling Elves. "See how she shines," he said quietly, yearning creeping into his tone. "She is so youthful, lovely, and pure. How dare I ruin her?"
Cembeleg pursed his lips and dropped his hand. "You will not," he declared.
Thranduil sighed. "I take my leave."
The Elves at the gathering easily overlooked the king, given the influence of Dorwinion wine and inviting music. He soon slipped through the trees, making his way back to his chambers, silently and alone.