As if a dragon were setting the forest alight from above, the leaves on the trees of Greenwood were changing into fiery reds and yellows as autumn took its hold. The crisp mid-morning air lent a somberness to the movement of the Elves around the palace. Even the fair sound of Silvan voices singing from the courtyard seemed to dissipate as it met the thin mists crawling on the forest floor. The orange canopy of trees wherein the Elvenking's chambers were built was heavy with beechnuts, nearly ready to harvest. In the king's antechamber, a cup of birch bark tea lay cold beside a plate of acorn flour cakes, abandoned on a table.
The Elvenking reclined against the headboard of his bed, unshod and clad only in the casual tunic and breeches he used in his private room. He loosely held a small looking glass in his hand, absently watching the sunlight it reflected play on the ceiling, turning the grey beech beams into a star-studded sky. His mind traveled to years long gone as his father Oropher would use this mirror often to review his appearance a final time before leaving his rooms to attend an important event.
"The Sindar rulers must work harder than other Elven nobility to maintain the respect of their subjects," he remembered his father telling him. "Loyalty, our Silvan subjects have given and proven countless times. But respect is easily tainted if you are seen to give them less than their due attention and devotion. Remember this, my son." Thranduil recalled the look in his father's eyes then. He had been, as always, somber and serious. But Thranduil noted on the first time that day a new shadow of anticipated doom. It had quickly disappeared when Oropher lifted the looking glass to ensure his crown was adequately situated upon his brow. "Conducting or presenting yourself as anything less than worthy of the title of Elvenking is a slight to the Silvans' gift."
Running his fingers over the polished frame of the looking glass brought Thranduil's thoughts back to the present. He could hear a servant politely knock at the entrance of his rooms and start tidying the antechamber through the open door of his bedroom. He wondered if he had maintained the respect of the Silvans as much as his father had. Marching the remnant of the army back from the War of the Last Alliance and leading the Elves that remained in mourning was his first act as Elvenking. Although he knew his subjects did not blame him for their losses, he feared the association may have tainted their respect for him.
"Oh, forgive me, sire," said a timid voice from the door of the bedchamber. A golden-haired serving maiden was hugging a basket of clean linens, having come to order the room. "I thought the king was with the council." She made to leave when Thranduil absently ordered her to proceed.
"Sire, Lord Galion told us not to disturb -"
"And who is your king? Thranduil or Galion?" he asked, still absorbed in his previous thoughts.
"You are, sire," she replied.
Her words sounded like the surprised confession of someone caught off guard. The honesty in her voice caused Thranduil to seek her eyes. She held his gaze briefly before dropping her eyes once again to the floor, but Thranduil did not miss what they held.
"You love me," he stated, sitting up from his reclined position to lean closer to the young elleth. He wondered at his own forwardness. He would not usually comment on such a personal observation.
"My king, the love and devotion of your subjects is your due," she quietly replied.
"Your words are taught," he said with a hint of disappointment. "What is your name? I have seen you before but I have not made your acquaintance."
"My name is Elluin, sire."
He sensed her nervousness but found that he could not resist baring his questions to this young elleth. "Be at ease, Elluin. I wish to learn from you. In your view, do I have the respect of my Silvan subjects?"
"Yes, my king," she answered without hesitation. "We have all seen the steps you take daily to ensure our safety and bring prosperity to the realm."
He felt a small sense of relief at Elluin's words but wanted more. "And why do you love me?" He noted with some surprise the color that quickly sprang to her cheeks as she shifted the load in her arms in her nervousness. She remained silent for another two heartbeats.
"Speak freely," he encouraged gently.
"Sire, I have tended to your house for over two decades," she started, appearing to have gathered her thoughts. "I have observed during some of your formal councils and audiences. The weight of responsibility you bear is nothing but astounding. It is beyond my comprehension." She reluctantly met the king's gentle but attentive gaze. "Your reign was born out of war and I fear danger will encroach once again, darkening the woods and deepening the shadows beneath the trees. And yet, my king, you meet each day with steadfastness and...hope…that seems to resonate to all the Elves in the kingdom. We sense you would never abandon us, like some other Elven lords who have taken the westward road. There is still a future for us here with you."
"You love me for my sense of duty?" he asked. "That hardly seems enough." He surprised himself again at this easy show of vulnerability, requesting implicitly that the elleth prove him worthy of the love of his servants.
"It would not have been enough, were it only duty we sense from you, my king. But your heart has been revealed to us since you came to the throne. We know who we serve. Your heart beats for the people of this kingdom, and so you have won the hearts of your kingdom."
A spark of hope dared to light Thranduil's eyes. Caution did not allow him to accept the blushing elleth's words without reservation. He could also sense there was more she had not told him but guessed that her reservation was due to the surprise of his sudden interrogation.
"For one so young, you have great conviction," he told her. She made no reply but held her basket still, adding weight to her conclusion. "Tell me, do all Silvans feel as you do?"
"I cannot say, my king," she replied. "They are many. But those I have met, I believe would agree with my words."
"You do not count yourself among the Silvans?"
"No, my king… I am of the Sindar, born in the Grey Havens. My family moved here to Greenwood some twenty-five years ago."
Thranduil was once more pleasantly surprised. "Your family?"
"My parents, Soronume and Linalda, and I, sire."
"Do they live close by?"
"Yes, sire."
A slight smile curved his lips as he once again reclined. "The three of you will dine with me tomorrow evening."
It took a few breaths for Elluin to overcome her surprise enough to respond. "As you wish, my king," she said with a curtsy.
He studied her, still smiling, for another moment before waving his hand in dismissal. "You may go. This room requires nothing further." As the elleth turned to leave, he added, "And Elluin, please tell Galion of our plans."
Alone once more, Thranduil looked at his reflection in his father's looking glass. The usually stern expression that met him had morphed into a more content one. Although it was strange for him to reveal his thoughts so easily to anyone, much less one of his servants, he found that it had occurred rather easily with this young elleth. He wondered at the change for a moment before finally rising to don his formal robes. He would determine later if this uncharacteristic openness was provoked by Elluin or by some shift in his own nature. For now, he sat at his desk and set to work on the administrative tasks of his position with a lighter heart.
The royal steward Galion was unable to mask the shock on his face. Though he quickly composed himself, his voice still held a sharpness. "Very well, Elluin, you will be relieved of your duties tomorrow. I would not have you tired during dinner. You would bore the king with unanimated conversation."
"Thank you, my lord."
"I trust you will dress finely but not wear too many jewels. You know the king prefers to see the sparkle of starlight in them, and you will be dining in lantern light in the minor dining hall."
"Yes, my lord."
The steward thought for a moment. "Go tell the hunters to bring in an extra deer on the morrow. Then proceed with your other tasks."
"Yes, my lord." Elluin was at last able to escape from Galion's scrutinizing gaze.
Walking the winding paths toward the hunters in the guardhouse allowed Elluin to gather her thoughts. The king's eyes, the color of a frosted winter sky, had seen much further into her heart than she had anticipated. It was no small relief to her that he mistook the love in her eyes for the ordinary love of a devoted subject.
When she first came to Greenwood and started service in the palace, Elluin had quickly gained the same respect and admiration for the Elvenking that all the Elves seemed to share. Her feelings had gradually deepened. She saw him strive daily to become a better king, seeking wisdom from advisors, books, and the memory of his father and other fallen friends. He took any threat to the kingdom personally, always a fierce protector. She had learned his face, learned to cherish the slight furrow of his brow when he was considering a difficult choice, and the crinkle beside his eyes in his rare moments of carefree amusement. Her heart leaped each time she heard his voice – the smooth baritone that was subtly commanding. And he had just used that voice to speak directly to her!
Elluin passed a palace runner along the path and realized she was smiling. Luckily the young ellon was in too much of a hurry to give her more than a quick glance and a nod of greeting. Elluin forced a more neutral expression. The friendly Silvan Elves were sure to ask about such a silly grin and she was not inclined to share the reason for it.
As an Elf, she was not afflicted with urgency in matters of the heart. She would not abuse her station or take liberties. In any case, it was not in her nature to seek attention, and she would not sacrifice her integrity to gain Thranduil's notice. She had been certain that if Thranduil ever did notice her, it would be because of her continued dedicated service, perhaps in a few more decades. Her head was still reeling with happiness and surprise that he now knew her name and origin.
Notice is not love, Elluin reminded herself. She was content to be patient, hiding from the king in plain sight. Perhaps her feelings would fade, or another Elf would find his way into her heart, though she thought both possibilities unlikely. Perhaps the king would fall in love with another and render her feelings pointless. Elluin decided not to brood over the idea. In the meantime, she was happy that her duties kept her close to Thranduil, though she hoped his exceptional perception would not obligate any further revelations of her heart. Not yet.
She also decided to ignore the uncomfortable sense that she was using patience as an excuse for cowardice. Suddenly, she did not find it so difficult to keep the smile from her face.