The Autumn Feast, Part I

The hall where the autumn feast was held was richly decorated: long tables with benches lined up as if on a string of pearls. On them, the elves had placed arrangements of leaves, acorns and other autumn fruits. Cutlery and dishes were also already in place. From sheer size, I guessed that perhaps a hundred guests would be present, some of them already standing in clusters around the tables and talking.

My stomach was in knots. The memory of the last party of this kind was still omnipresent and although I had felt comfortable there after initial reservations, I strongly doubted that it would be the same this time. In the dress that had been brought to me, I felt as if I were disguised, the headdress that many other elves wore had not been offered to me. Probably they feared that they would not get it back and the female elf had kept it. I would have preferred to turn back and spend the evening in my room, partly because Legolas' answer to his father's question still felt like an arrow stuck in my chest. But I knew that was not an option. Not after the audience with Thranduil, and even more so after I had overheard his conversation with Legolas like a terrible spy.

Someone stepped up beside me. "Take heart, lass. It will pass more quickly if we play along."

Gimli was right, only unfortunately that didn't make it any better. After all, we would suffer together, and perhaps by the end of the evening Legolas would have convinced his father that I was no threat. Or Thranduil would know that I was carrying the Silmaril shards. Perhaps he already knew and was just making a joke of inviting the dwarf and me to the feast.

A male elf approached us. I had seen him before: It had been him who had saved me from the spider not so long ago. "I will escort you to your table," he said after stopping in front of us. "My name is Beleg."

I nodded at him, trying to ignore the inquiring look he was eyeing me with. When he turned and led us across the room, I was relieved, and even more so when he left us alone again.

Of course, Gimli and I were sitting at the side table. While not far from the banquet table where Thranduil would dine, it was still between the two of us. "They could not have made their disapproval more clear," the dwarf grumbled as he sat down. "The pointy ears love the subtle insult."

I placed a hand on his forearm. "It'll be over quicker if we play along, weren't those your words?"

"Easier said than done."

With a smirk, I sat down in my chair next to Gimli and let my gaze wander around the room. Neither Thranduil nor his son were present, but a great many other elves were. Boiling hot, something struck me that I had completely blanked out until now. "Will there also be guests from Lorien here?", I asked and heard how tense my voice sounded.

The dwarf raised his head. "I can't say for sure, but... as far as I understood Legolas correctly, the Autumn Feast is one where the Wood Elves keep to themselves for the most part. Besides, Thranduil is not fond of Galadriel."

"Still, Celeborn might be here."

Restlessly, Gimli slid back and forth on his chair, now searching the room with his gaze, just as I was. "I wouldn't rule it out."

"Damn." If I had felt uncomfortable before, now that feeling multiplied ad infinitum. "We're practically sitting ducks."

"A very fitting metaphor."

"Too fitting." I couldn't see anything suspicious, but then again, what did that mean? Any one of those elves could have been from Lorien, or none of them.

"Legolas must have concluded that the risk was reasonable, lass." The dwarf looked with narrowed eyes at the nearest group of elves, despite his comforting words. "We should trust him."
Yes, I suppose we should. Still: I just couldn't turn off the feeling of being trapped.

At that moment Thranduil entered the room and right behind him his son. Both looked like one would imagine the king and heir to the throne of an Elven kingdom: Thranduil's robe was splendid, the crown on his head was made of colorful autumn leaves, and I wondered how he managed not to trip over the long train he so elegantly pulled behind him as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Legolas had also dressed up, but looked far less smug than his father. His gaze wandered over the heads of the crowd until it crossed mine.

I looked to the floor. The feeling that had just died down a bit surged up again like a newly sparked bushfire. Because I was staring down at the silverware in front of me, I didn't notice Legolas until he was standing next to us. "Who brought you here?"

"One of the pointy ears, don't ask me which one," Gimli replied.

"I should have known," Legolas said, and the disapproval in his tone was abundantly clear. "You come to the banquet table with me, and I will arrange for your place settings to be moved."

"Do not trouble yourself, my friend." Gimli shook his head. "I am well aware of the value my people hold with yours."

"You know as well as I do that I will not stand for this." Legolas motioned to another elf to move our place setting. Afterwards, he offered me his arm to escort us to our new seats, and I only hooked up because I wanted to be polite. Subtle. Just as he had said.

The evening began and soon many kinds of food had been set up in front of us. Although it smelled temptingly good, I ate only little. I didn't feel like it and would have preferred to leave after the first three courses, but Thranduil had other plans. "I see you've barely touched the wine," he said two seats to the left. "Is it not to your liking?"

"Oh," I clasped the glass. "Yes it is, it's just..." I remembered what he had said about the lives of us mortals, and I reached for it like for a straw. "I caught a little cold and... don't taste all that good. I'm sure you understand."

As expected, he didn't understand. How could he, he was an elf and thus had never experienced firsthand illnesses that periodically put humans out of action for a few weeks at a time. Nevertheless, he did not want to give away that he had no idea about it.

Legolas, sitting at his father's right, leaned forward, honest concern in his gaze. "You are ill?"

"It's not that bad." And also a lie, I thought. Like so much that night.

"That's what you said last time, and then you-" He broke off.

"Then I got better within a few days," I finished his sentence. "My condition should not interfere with the feast, I am very fond of your wine, Your Grace."

Legolas frowned and I knew he was reluctant to drop the subject, but tolerated it because of his father, who at that moment beckoned an elf carrying a decanter of wine. "Then you should try this one - at the risk of not being able to taste its exquisite note. It comes from Dorwinion - I share it very rarely."

"Thank you," I replied, narrowing my eyes. If it had been up to me, I would have declined, but I knew I couldn't do that. Besides, the wine tasted really good.

"It is most unfortunate that your taste is affected." Thranduil leaned in my direction, barely noticeably. "Isn't it?" Something in his gaze told me he wasn't buying my little story. If I was honest, I wouldn't have done that either. But he also knew not to question it. Not as long as I was officially his guest. "I hope to be back in good health by the time we reach Esgaroth," I replied. "It would be very regrettable if I did not make it back to Minas Tirith before the onset of winter."

"Very regrettable indeed." The Elven King raised an eyebrow. "Which suppliers did you say you would frequent?"

"I named none yet," I replied, managing to meet his gaze. As I did so, a cold shiver ran down my spine. Thranduil didn't let on; his poker face was amazing. But what did I expect? He was thousands of years old. "But I would be grateful if you could give me some contacts of your trust. The sommelier has given me several names, but the journey is long and the last time he was sent to Esgaroth by Denethor..." I sincerely hoped that Thranduil knew nothing about the frequency of the sommelier's visits from Minas Tirith to lake town, but I had put one and one together and had concluded that it must have been too long and arduous a journey during the war, and even shortly thereafter, to make regularly, or at all. Wine had long been a scarce commodity, and only last summer had Girdis hinted that barrels had again been delivered to Minas Tirith.

"I see." The Elven King still did not take his eyes off me. "You fear that your former trade partners may no longer be any."

"I hope that is not the case."

"If you tell me their names, I can certainly give you some information in that regard."

He had said the last sentence so casually, as if it were not important, but I could see from his demeanor that quite the opposite was true. "Well...", I took my time as if thinking about it, but actually I wanted to watch Thranduil's expression to estimate when I was making a mistake. "First and foremost, there's the mayor of lake town, but I've already been told that there's been a change of power. Also, Hador, who is also said to have contacts in Dorwinion, and Angrim, son of Angbor." I resisted the urge to grab my forearm with my hand. In the fifteen minutes I had had after visiting Gimli, I had learned names, routes, and even memorized the usual volumes of delivery. Still, I felt like I was getting smaller and smaller under Thranduil's watchful gaze. "Do you know them?"

He pursed his lips. "Hador is a good supplier, indeed. I am not familiar with the others, but I recommend you contact the new mayor. I'm sure the sommelier has drafted you a letter explaining your situation... didn't he?"

The sudden change of direction was meant to confuse me, I felt it quite clearly, but I withstood Thranduil's gaze one more time, even as my stomach flipped with nervousness. Of course, I had no letter, so what could I say? Deny it and risk the Elf King finding it suspicious enough to have me searched? Or affirm and not be able to show it? I opted for the latter. "I was handed one, unfortunately I don't know if it survived the attack by the creatures of the woods. We had to leave rather rushed."

"My son already mentioned that."

I had to turn the conversation around. Right now it was an interrogation, exactly what Thranduil seemed to have planned from the beginning. And I had to somehow manage to regain the upper hand. Therefore, I gave myself a push and said, at the risk of him perceiving me as impertinent, "Should it not be too much to ask, I would be happy to receive a recommendation from you. I understand that you have excellent trade relations with Esgaroth. That is, of course, if it is not an inconvenience..."

A smirk tugged at the corners of Thranduil's mouth. "I see why Elessar's sommelier decided to send you," he countered without giving me an answer to my question. "Tell me, where did your accent come from?"

Damn. I swallowed and narrowed my gaze. Before that, however, I saw something like curiosity flash in Thranduil's eyes. He knew he had finally stumbled upon something that concerned me personally, that I could not avoid, like his previous questions. I had to stop him from drilling further at all costs, but the sidestepping he was capable of was almost impossible to predict. True, I had told my story many times before, and in theory had spun it a little further than was strictly necessary, but Thranduil was old. Almost as old as Middle Earth itself. What were the odds that he didn't know it in its entirety - every country, every corner? "I'm from the East."

"From where, exactly?" His voice had taken on an almost accusatory tone, reminding me uncomfortably of Legolas' and my first conversation. They both had that piercing gaze that made me turn to ice deep inside.

Even though everything in me wanted to look to Legolas to see if he was aware of what was happening, I told myself not to. That would only make his father more suspicious.

I just had to stick to the golden rule of lying: As close to the truth as possible, as far from it as necessary. As always. "From a land beyond the sea," I said because of that. "My family was on a merchant ship that sank. I was much younger then. I survived as one of a few, stranded in Middle Earth, and since then... well since then I've been trying to make my way."

The Elf King had not expected this. But again, he knew how to hide his surprise well. "This is indeed an unusual story. A land beyond the sea!" He leaned forward a little more. "There has been no news from the Land of the Sun since the days of Númenór."

"I do not know what you call it," I said truthfully. "But I never heard anyone speak of it here, so I gave up hope of returning."

"We thought it was unpopulated."

"Well," I countered, seeing out of the corner of my eye that Legolas was watching his father and me, "if we are speaking of the same land, then it was anything but unpopulated. But it was a long time ago," I tried to deflect the topic, "it's like it was a dream and Middle Earth was the reality I've always lived in."

Thranduil's gaze was still piercing, but not without compassion. I guessed that he sensed something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. That's why he searched for the truth in my eyes, and since I was adamant about sticking to my own rules, he found it there. But also something else. And that seemed to keep him on his guard.

He looked at the glass in my hands, then beckoned the elf with the decanter. "I see you enjoy the wine."