30 – Friendship with the King

The sun was late in setting, eager to flaunt its myriad of colors across the sky as it sank into the horizon. The wood-Elves were already singing as, one by one, they made their leisurely way toward the palace for the Summer Festival. Servants were still busy setting up tables, rolling over log sections to be used as seats, hanging lanterns for when the night fell, and ferrying dishes from the kitchen. There did not seem to be any official beginning to the party, as the Elves that arrived waited for no invitation to help themselves to the provisions, and musicians were equally eager and plentiful.

Soronume and his wife and daughter arrived just like the rest of the throng, dressed in comfortable finery and ready to enjoy a long night of feasting and dancing. Elluin wore one of Lady Foriel's dresses. The material was remarkably light, perfect for a summer night. It was a lavender color with silver embroidery along the neckline, with a matching belt of thin leather, also embroidered with silver thread. The family easily joined in conversing with their friends and neighbors, soon losing sight of each other in the crowd.

Servants had started lighting the first lanterns when the Elves at last took up the song that had, for the last thousand years, become a tradition in Greenwood to invite the king to come out and give the official welcome.

When summer hangs in boughs of green

The Elves of Greenwood sing

They prance and dance and leap aloft

Like arrows from the string

For nothing is as fair to them

As starlight through the trees

That set their leaves to shivering

In summer's gentle breeze

Now let us join the merry song

That echoes to the sky

To please the ear of Elvenking

Who harkens and draws nigh

The music, while it kept its lively tempo, quieted slightly and voices hushed in anticipation. After a brief moment, the palace doors swung open and Thranduil stepped out, accompanied by another dozen servants bearing more dishes and pitchers to add to the feast. The Elvenking made his way to the small platform overlooking the courtyard and beheld a sea of joyful faces looking up at him — all of them, faces that he knew and cherished. His own smile encouraged everyone's joviality.

"Welcome, my people. Together, we savor the summer fruits of our beloved Greenwood. It is a night of happiness and plenty under a fair sky. Let the merrymaking continue!"

The Elves needed no encouragement to resume their dancing and feasting, and no complaint was heard regarding the briefness of the speech. Soon, the music soon rose again in powerful tones across the forest. The inviting rhythm had most of the Elves joining the lines and circles, stepping in time as they moved about the courtyard and the surrounding forest. Movements became increasingly wild as night descended, inspired by the starlight, wine, and company.

Thranduil and many of the court members had joined, as well, shedding their robes of office to slip easily into the steps. He reflected briefly on how much this festival had served to lighten everyone's spirits, just as Elluin said it would.

Harps and flutes echoed the cheer and energy of the dancers. The circling patterns had them clasping hands and elbows of frequently shifting partners, each exchanging a brief, breathless greeting with the king if they were aware enough of their new partner to do so.

The Elvenking found himself suddenly holding hands with Lady Ninniach. "Sire!" she greeted him cheerfully. "What a marvelous festival! I am so very glad you decided to hold it, after all." The young noble had, as always, attended the council meeting during which the event was canceled, but obviously was not bothered by the reversal of the decision.

He spun her around as the dance demanded before he replied honestly, "As am I."

"What was it that changed the king's mind?" she asked, still gleefully grinning. "Did the king wish for another opportunity to dance with Greenwood's ellith under the stars?"

Thranduil chuckled. "Greenwood's ellith can be most persuasive," he said evasively.

The steps of the dance separated him soon after from Ninniach, and allowed him to catch a glimpse of Elluin in a different circle of dancers not far from him. Gracefully, he maneuvered through the throng to catch her by the hand after a turn. Surprise came to her face when she realized who he was, quickly replaced by delight. He smiled and beckoned with his head for her to follow him.

The crowd of dancers easily avoided the pair as they made their way to the edge of the gathering. Still holding her hand, Thranduil led her a small way into the shadows of the trees, still easily seen but now with some privacy. He finally dropped her hand but did not step away.

"Elluin, I wished to thank you for convincing me to hold the festival," he said, acknowledging her polite reply with a small nod before assuming a more serious expression. "I was also hoping to speak with you regarding your new position."

"Of course, sire." She was disappointed to think he would wish to speak of palace duties during a festival, but kept her expression neutral.

Thranduil remained silent for a moment, seemingly distracted by the dancing Elves. Elluin did not press, knowing that he would speak when he was ready and admittedly enjoying their proximity in the meantime.

After a moment, he dropped his gaze to the ground then turned his head once more to meet her eyes. "I wish for you to become my friend," he said quietly.

Her lips parted slightly, unsure if she heard the words correctly. She waited for him to elaborate, which he soon did.

"In your official capacity as mistress of the house, it would be feasible to arrange for the two of us to spend some time together." He watched joy spark in her eyes and quickly continued. "Now, in light of the declaration you made to me in Rivendell, I wish to make it clear that friendship is all I am able to offer now. I would understand if you thought it cruel of me to request your presence in this way without a more significant promise, so I extend this invitation separately for you to decline, if you so choose." He looked down again, hiding the hopefulness that he dared not allow to surface.

Elluin did not need long to consider. She boldly brought a gentle hand to his arm to call his eyes back to hers and answered him just as quietly. "Sire, I would consider it a tremendous privilege to be your friend."

He gave her a soft smile, unable to conceal a small breath of relief.

"Sire, I wonder..." Elluin said after a while with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Thranduil cast her a questioning glance.

"Will the king dance with his friend?" She held out a hand to him.

He found himself charmed by her invitation, and took her hand, kissing it squarely before leading her back to the dance.

~.~.~

The morning after the summer festival, Elluin felt strange walking through the halls without her uniform. As mistress of the house, she was permitted to wear a regular gown, though she wore, like Galion, a thin green sash denoting her status. She was once again grateful to Berenil for the gift of his wife's gowns, for she had not needed many as a servant and now, suddenly, she was expected to dress as a lady while in the palace.

Galion greeted her looking entirely too chipper for one who probably did not sleep the night before, supervising the clean-up after the festival that lasted nearly until dawn. Elluin decided not to comment on it, afraid that he would tell her she would soon grow used to such little rest, herself. He said he thought it best for her to simply shadow him for the first part of the day. She watched closely as he went about the business. He would occasionally explain a few details, but she was generally left to make her own observations. She was already familiar with the practical implications of what Galion did, which made it easier for her to understand the premise of the preceding steps; however, she still needed to learn those steps.

They had just hurried through a midday meal on their feet in the storeroom when Galion at last set down the final ledger and turned to her. "This afternoon, I will be in council with Lord Derion regarding collections from the outlying villages. The king has requested that you attend to him during this time."

"I shall go directly," she answered, hoping that her excitement was not apparent.

~.~.~

Elluin sent a runner to the kitchens for a tea tray on her way, then entered the king's antechamber when he answered her knock, exchanging a nod with Sulros at his post by the door. She found the king sprawled over an armchair, abandoning a piece of parchment onto a pile on the floor beside him as he looked up at her.

"Good afternoon, sire," she greeted with a curtsy.

"Good, now that's done," Thranduil said bluntly. Was that trepidation she saw in his face? "Sit, please. Or…" He struggled with his thoughts for a moment, then gave up, sighing and draped an arm over his eyes. "Elluin, how do friends greet each other?"

She was glad the king's eyes were covered because she quickly realized her mouth was hanging open. Recovering, she searched for the answer, moving to sit on an armchair beside his as she spoke. "Since we have seen each other recently, a simple greeting such as mine would suffice, or 'well met,' or the like. We may choose to inquire after each other's welfare, though this could be passed over if one of us has any news of significance."

"Then, how do you fare?" he asked, removing his arm from his face to search her eyes.

She saw the uncertainty there, still.

"I am well, sire. I am optimistic about my success as housekeeper," she decided to say.

He nodded with satisfaction but said nothing.

"Sire, you seem uncharacteristically unsure," she ventured, hoping he would not be offended but taking her role as friend seriously. "How long has it been since you have spoken as a friend to someone?"

His arm came up once more. "Too long," he admitted.

A quiet knock at the door gave them both temporary reprieve from the discomfort, though Thranduil did not bother to move. Elluin rose to receive the tea tray from the servant and nodded a quick thanks. She did not rush her steps or movements as she poured them both a cup. Gingerly and boldly, she took Thranduil's hand, uncovering his face, and pressed his cup into his palm before taking her seat again.

He stared at her. "Elluin, did you just command me?"

She paled slightly as she picked up her own cup. "No, sire, I simply gave you your tea." She hid her racing thoughts behind a strong swallow of the brew. Had she been too bold in touching him? He had often sent full, cold cups of tea back to the kitchens — perhaps he did not care much for it. No, she decided as the warmth of the drink spread through her, he would benefit from that cup of tea, and it was her duty to make sure he knew it. "Please drink, my king," she urged. "It will help to put you at ease."

His brows furrowed as he turned his gaze to the cup in his hand, but a moment later he obediently took a sip. His expression softened as he felt the effects.

"Now will you tell me, sire?" she dared to ask after a tranquil moment. "About the last time you spoke to a friend?"

His eyes met hers again, but they were distant, and she knew he was searching through thousands of years' worth of his memories.

"I had several friends during my childhood in Doriath, of course," he began. "Those were happier times. Our borders were nigh impregnable and my father's duties as a guard were all but superfluous. My friends and I, along with all the children of the city, were ever exploring. Sometimes we would go to the forest, climbing trees or discovering new places to play. Other times, we would slip along the tunnels of Menegroth, searching out every nook carved into the stone." Thranduil drank more of his tea, a smile on his lips and a dreamy look in his eyes. "Once, quite by accident, we chanced upon the open door of King Thingol's treasure room. It held such gems and in such number as we had never seen, nor ever will again, I am sure. It seemed like we were looking out over a sea of the brightest stars."

"King Thingol's treasure is still legendary," Elluin said reverently. "What manner of mischief would Elf-children cause in such a place, I wonder?"

Thranduil shot a smile at her. "Unfortunately for us, we were very quickly discovered and received a rather severe scolding."

Elluin chucked, reveling in the happiness that had glimmered through the memories. But then Thranduil's face darkened.

"Not long afterwards, the Dwarves came and King Thingol was killed. We had survived, but Queen Melian's girdle of protection was broken. Where once we were carefree and blissful, the kingdom was uncertain and fearful. The sons of Feanor…" his voice broke and he swallowed hard before continuing. "I was so young, I do not remember much of that night — just the warmth of my mother as she clutched me to her side, ducking through the trees as we ran through the night, and the ringing of my father's sword behind us as he fought off our pursuers."

Elluin abandoned her cup of tea and came to sit on the floor at Thranduil's feet. He hardly seemed to acknowledge her, still gazing into the past.

"So many were lost… I had few friends left after that night," he continued with a sigh. "In the vales of Sirion, there was no time for play, in any case. They were days of mourning and our focus was on survival. We quickly left for Lindon. Once we established ourselves there, I had the fortune of making friends with several other Sindar Elflings. I remember them fondly. We saw each other from youth to adulthood. Some, we saw wed. Others were called west.

"But none of them came with us when my father brought us here to the Greenwood. Once we arrived and the people made him king, I was treated differently. The other Sindar were all older and the Silvans stayed respectfully aloof. The closest I came to friendship was with our soldiers during patrols. But they would never completely let down their guards with me, seeking to shield me from their struggles so as to lessen the burden of princehood, but in so doing, making it impossible for me to form true connections with them. So, while I was blessed to have teachers, mentors, and comrades, I have not had true friends for thousands of years. I have nearly forgotten what it is like."

Elluin's heart tore as she listened. She reached up for his hand in his lap and kissed it before withdrawing again.

Her lips on his hand pulled Thranduil back to the present and he evaluated himself. When he had lamented about his past within his own mind, it seemed that his fears and sorrows would fester and snake deeper into his spirit. But with every word he spoke to Elluin, it seemed that she took hold of the darkness that had wound itself around his heart like a strangling thread. She was slowly untangling it and drawing it away, all without making a sound.

He realized two things at that moment: that she had performed this apparent miracle silently and remained thus; and that she had indeed taken his sorrows upon her own heart. He had somehow not expected either. Though his advisors took their positions seriously and poured their hearts into their tasks, their goal was to perform a duty. As such, they were all eager to offer words of encouragement and advice, thinking of Thranduil as the primary instrument for the betterment of the realm, however beloved, instead of an Elf with a heart of flesh.

"You say nothing." His eyes questioned.

"What shall I say, sire? My experiences are different and I know not how I may mend your heart. I mourn with you, as a friend would."

"You are taking my sorrows as your own."

"Yes," she confirmed quietly. "That is also what a friend does."

He studied her shining eyes, seeing the sadness of his memories reflected there.

"No," he said after a moment, his voice decisive and so loud as to cause Elluin to flinch. "No, Elluin, I will burden you too greatly. It is not for one such as you to bear the horrors of my past. I should not have dared to hope for this friendship." He stood and took a few steps back from her, as if the physical distance could help distance her from his darkness.

Tears at last brimmed in her eyes as she protested, following him. Thranduil shook his head, expecting her to say that she could not bear the heartache if she were apart from him. But her response was different.

"Sire, look into your heart. Do you not feel less burdened already? There is more hope in your eyes now than I remember ever seeing." Elluin smiled through her tears. "And does hope not make a better king, and a happier kingdom? Please, allow me to be of service in this way, to you and the realm. Please, sire."

"Elluin, it could break you," he breathed. "The tragedies I have lived through…they were enough to send my mother across the sea, and that was only the first few centuries' worth."

"Lady Anarrima remains, who has seen you through it all," she stated. "And I would hope, sire, that you would also share more of the happy moments of your life with me. It was Lord Berenil who first told me, 'Sorrow shared is half the sorrow, and joy shared is twice the joy.' I swear, sire, your friendship will not break me."

Thranduil struggled with his thoughts for a long moment, wondering what strength could be found in such a young heart. Yet, he was younger than she was now when Doriath was sacked, and he had survived. Such was the determination in her face that he was forced to relent. The easier life she had lived would undoubtedly also help her recover from what he shared from his past. Already, he could see the edges of his darkness start to fade from her eyes. He could not deny that he also saw the truth in her words — his heart was lighter and more hopeful, and he knew that the kingdom would be better for it.

"You are sure you wish to continue?"

"Yes, sire." Her enthusiastic nod was endearing and Thranduil smiled despite himself.

"Then, Elluin, I believe it is now your turn," he said, moving back to his chair and pouring himself another cup of tea. "Tell me of your friends."

Elluin was happy to comply. Thranduil laughed with her as she told him of her childhood, when she and her friends in the Gray Havens would exasperate their elders with their pranks. He shared her nostalgia as she spoke of building forts in the white sand of the beaches, catching fish, or watching storm clouds roll in across a churning ocean. He remembered well the thrill she described from sneaking away with her friends into the forest, learning its ways and understanding the speech of trees for the first time.

She was just starting to speak of the farewells she had made when her family decided to come to Greenwood when a knock on the door startled them both.

Thranduil blinked. He had been so engrossed in Elluin's stories that he had completely lost track of time. He realized that the cup of tea he still held in his hand was completely cold and that daylight was quickly fading.

"Enter," he called. He felt the mantle of his station descend again upon his shoulders. It was too familiar to be uncomfortable, but it remained heavy.

Galion's expression, as usual, was blank, though his quick eyes certainly noticed that the king and his housekeeper were remarkably casual. Though Elluin now rose to stand, both of them had obviously been lounging — lounging — in their chairs and the tea tray was not in order. The king was not even wearing his formal robes despite the official meeting. Whatever they did, Galion thought, had done the king some good. Thranduil appeared as if he had just awoken from a long, deep, healing sleep of pleasant dreams.

"Lady Anarrima awaits the king's pleasure in the minor dining hall, sire," he said with a bow.

"Of course," Thranduil managed as he also came to his feet. "I shall meet her presently." Galion took his cue to help the king into his discarded robe after waving to a messenger in the hallway.

In a twinkling, Elluin had gathered the tea tray to take with her. "Good night, my king," Elluin said quietly with a curtsy, not waiting to be dismissed.

"Good night, my lady," he answered, surprising them both. They parted with twin smiles on their faces. Thranduil stared at the door Elluin had shut behind her thoughtfully for a while. "Twice the joy…" he murmured under his breath.

"What was that, sire?" Galion broke into his musing as he arranged the sash about the king's waist.

"Oh. Never mind," Thranduil said quickly. But a small smile lingered.