Elluin took a fortifying breath and raised her hand to knock. She had grown too tired of Thranduil's continued coldness and had decided to take action.
The door opened quickly, bright blue eyes meeting hers with slight surprise.
"Elluin? Oh, thank Eru. Come in," Lady Anarrima said, ushering Elluin through.
"Thank you, my lady. I am sorry to intrude," she began.
"No, we are well past 'my lady' between us, I think. Call me by my name," the older elleth said. "And I was dearly hoping you would come. You have sent for tea, I take it?"
"Yes…Anarrima," Elluin said, the familiarity new to her tongue.
Anarrima seated them at a cozy table by a window overlooking the forest. The view calmed Elluin somewhat.
"You wished to speak to me, also?" Elluin began, remembering her greeting.
"Yes," came the emphatic reply. "I have noticed some of what has been happening between you and my nephew. I cannot deny that it is deeply troubling to me. But I promised myself I would not interfere unless explicitly asked. And my dear, I would like to help you. Now, tell me what brought you here," Anarrima demanded kindly.
Elluin raised her eyes to the older elleth, their depths revealing just how distraught she was. "I don't know what I did wrong. I don't know what to do next."
They were interrupted when a servant knocked softly on the door. Anarrima quickly took the tray and shut the door again, then served them both tea, despite Elluin's attempts to do so herself.
"You did nothing wrong," Anarrima said, resuming the conversation. "Why would you think so?"
"As you've seen, Thranduil is suddenly all but ignoring me. I am told he is trying to protect me — I suspect he fears that his old scars will be too much for me." Elluin studied the steam curling from her cup. "I must have shown some weakness that has given him doubt."
"No, child," the elleth replied. "It is not your weakness that he sees, but your innocence. It has become increasingly precious to him. And he sees himself as a threat to it."
Elluin looked up in sad disbelief. "But this will destroy us!" she said. "And I don't mean only our relationship. I know in my heart what the future holds for me if he should insist on this continued distance. I will be content in my work for a while, and find solace with my family and friends, as I had before. But as the years pass, they will lose their charm and I will be left empty. And all the waterfalls of Greenwood would not be able to sooth my spirit enough to tether it to Middle Earth."
"I fear it is the same for Thranduil," Anarrima admitted sorrowfully. "But he likely believes that you will prevail while he slowly fades."
"No," Elluin declared with a firm shake of her head. "Anarrima, we cannot allow that to happen. He deserves so much better. And it would leave Greenwood unprotected and lost."
"Like his heart," the older elleth agreed thoughtfully.
Elluin sighed. "What can I do?" she asked after a pause, a hopeful light in her eyes. "You said you wished for me to come. You must have an idea."
Anarrima pegged her with a calculating look. "I have tried speaking with my nephew on this matter, you know. I asked him why I was no longer hearing of the two of you spending time together. At first, he excused his behavior with claims that his duties were taking too much of his time, and then it was that you needed to spend more time with your family, now that Soronume is recovered. But when I expressed my concern that he was becoming closed off and severe, he told me he was simply resigning himself to perpetual solitude." The older elleth took a long drink of tea before she continued. "I asked him what I could do to help. He said that I should find ways to keep you happy."
Elluin's teary eyes showed confusion.
"Coincidentally, your happiness—and his—require that the two of you form a bond," Anarrima said with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. "So I will obey, by putting myself at your disposal." She took Elluin's hand. With a beseeching, almost desperate tone, she suggested, "I can be a messenger. I can arrange meetings. I can have certain things taken to his chambers… I can be a clamoring in his ear saying whatever you please. I have been a part of his life for its entirety, but he has rarely let me see his heart, so you know better than I how to reach it. Command me, Elluin. For the good of you both."
Elluin's mouth was open with surprise. Anarrima eventually withdrew and deliberately took another slow sip of her tea, silently cuing the younger elleth to do the same while she considered the proposition. Her mind worked furiously, searching for any solution, any assistance that could possibly move Thranduil's heart. With no small amount of fear, she also realized that Anarrima's aid eliminated any obstacle related to Elluin's lower station, and she no longer had it as an excuse for not approaching the king. But even if she did, what could she possibly say to him that would make any difference?
The ellith had emptied their cups long before Elluin finally spoke. "Anarrima, your support means a great deal to me. I am grateful… However, I doubt that anyone could change Thranduil's mind on this."
Anarrima was silent for a moment before she reluctantly nodded her agreement. Elluin could see it pained her, as well, that no solution presented itself. "Very well, my dear. But my offer stands."
"Thank you."
Elluin made to rise, but was halted by her companion's question: "What happens now?"
"I must trust him to come to me when he is ready," she declared obstinately, though she could hear the doubt in her own voice. "Then, at last, we may be whole."
~.~.~
The spring season advanced, flower petals falling to give way to bright green leaves and fruits that would mature over the summer. Elluin was, by now, well established in her role as housekeeper and was well respected among the palace servants. Her management ensured that the storerooms were brimming. With pride, she noted that the kingdom would have plenty available to trade with Men or Dwarves, as they had been blessed by the abundance of the Greenwood. But the brightness in her eyes diminished with each passing day.
Of the king, however, the Silvans spoke with no small amount of regret. The cheeriness that had previously given them all a bounce in their step had fallen from his face. Both king and housekeeper endured curious and sorrowful glances from all quarters, though everyone tried their best to hide their disappointment.
Sulros and Maethon were thankful, at least, that Thranduil acted with more civility toward them since Maethon had confronted him. But no matter how many times they suggested he go to Elluin, and no matter how subtly, he either ignored them or stubbornly refused.
~.~.~
Galion announced Soronume and gestured him into the throne room. Thranduil stood and descended from his throne as a pair of guards carried in a large chest and set it down carefully before the steps. After a formal bow as greeting, Soronume opened the chest. It was full of newly made daggers neatly arrayed, with leather sheaths and wooden handles. Wordlessly, Thranduil picked one up and unsheathed it to examine the simple metal blade and test the feel with a series of slashes in the air.
"These are perfect, Soronume," Thranduil said at last, returning the weapon to the chest. "You have my thanks."
"Our Dwarven and Elven blacksmiths were most helpful with the project, sire." Soronume's voice was strained, and he did not raise his eyes.
The Elvenking studied the carpenter's rigid form for a moment, fighting an inward battle. Business had officially concluded, and it would be easy simply to dismiss the Elf and take the next audience. But he felt that, as one of his kin among the Sindar and the father who had consented to his courtship of Elluin, Soronume was owed some explanation. Perhaps he would even agree with his reasoning.
"Leave us," the king commanded the rest of the room. In a twinkling, his guards, servants, clerk, and steward had disappeared. Soronume still did not look up.
"How is Elluin?" Thranduil asked quietly.
"She is not well," Soronume hastened to bite out. "It is difficult for her to find joy, even with her family. The hours in her garden…" He took a deep breath. Thranduil knew it was to keep himself from bursting out in anger, and noted the lack of honorifics in the Elf's speech.
Suddenly, Soronume lifted his gaze to lock with the king's. Thranduil had anticipated the anger flashing there, so did not flinch. "Her heart is broken. Do you no longer love her?"
Thranduil sighed silently and turned his face away. "The way I feel is irrelevant," he stated calmly. "I refuse to damage her."
Soronume stared at him, brows furrowed with both his anger and his new confusion. "You are damaging her now," he accused.
Thranduil slowly paced a few steps away. "What can I do to restore her joy?"
"Go to her," came the immediate response.
"I would do anything, save that."
Soronume clenched his fists, and Thranduil distantly appreciated his restraint.
"Her heart has made its choice," the carpenter said roughly. "No matter what my hopes are for her, I fear she will diminish."
A shard of ice shot into the Elvenking's heart, hardening as it pierced. "Better pure and diminished than forever tainted by darkness."
Soronume shook his head incredulously, but soon dropped his gaze again.
"I would see Elluin happy," Thranduil said. "I will tell you what I told her: whatever I have to give is hers."
"But not your heart," Soronume noted bitterly.
"She is my heart," Thranduil countered, pegging the other Elf with an earnest look. After a moment, he resumed his pacing, staring regretfully ahead. "She must find a way to sustain it, for both our sakes." He looked at Soronume again. "Please, Soronume — if there is anything in the kingdom that would help with this, say the word, and you shall have it."
Soronume's lips were pursed. He was obviously still highly distressed, but recognized both the gesture of goodwill and the generosity of the offer.
"I shall, sire." He bowed and left briskly.
~.~.~
Turiel ended her demonstration with a bow, accepting Elluin's applause. Her birds were learning commands and using signals with increasing numbers. A wood warbler had just indicated with a high, trilling series of chirps that four Elves were stationed at the nearby guard outpost. Turiel spread a small handful of seeds before the small yellow-and-gray bird as a reward before sitting down beside her friend on the floor of the talan.
"I feel that we have a solid beginning now," the Silvan elleth said.
"I should say so," Elluin readily agreed. "This is a remarkable service to the realm. When will they be put to the test?"
"Many have already been sent forth. The messenger birds have not been particularly useful since Maluven's return from Rivendell with Lord Elrond's instructions for your father's care. And I now hesitate to recommend that another journey be made to the Hidden Valley with the sole purpose of placing birds there."
"Yes, I would agree," Elluin said, repressing a shiver at the thought of more Orc attacks.
"Someday, the messenger birds will know where to travel without having made their nest there," Turiel said hopefully. "But I still need access to these other places, I think, to teach the birds where they may go."
"I have every faith in your success," the blonde elleth said, taking her friend's hand and squeezing it in encouragement.
Silence fell between them and they allowed the birdsong to entertain them for a while before Turiel spoke again. Looking sidelong at her companion, she noted, "I had wished that the birds might be used to send royal wedding invitations soon."
A shadow passed over Elluin's features. "I have told you what he feels — why he will not pursue a bond with me."
The Silvan elleth was quick to clarify. "I do not wish to upset you. But I admit that I am somewhat disappointed in you."
"In me?"
"Yes." Turiel turned her body to face her friend more directly. "You have done nothing to change his mind."
"What can I do?" Elluin asked, exasperated. "I take special care in my duties to ensure he notices my continued affection. He receives a flower with every meal now, and I meet all of his needs and wishes that Maethon and Sulros pass along to me. There is nothing—"
"You have all my love and admiration, Elluin, truly," the Silvan elleth interrupted. "But when it comes to the king, you are a coward."
The words hit hard—more so because Elluin knew them to be true. She nodded and hung her head.
"I feel as if we are reliving what happened two winters past," Turiel said. "When Peniadir and Lindir and the other Elves came from Rivendell, and Maethon and I scolded you for not telling the king how you feel during the welcome feast. And you overcame that fear, did you not? You told him."
"Only after he realized it himself," came the grumbled reply.
"Well, what would you say to him now?" Turiel demanded. "Surely something he already knows in his heart, and just needs to be made obvious, just like that time. You Sindar can be such clotpolls!" She rose in frustration and took out her burst of anger on a broom handle, scraping bird droppings off the floor of the talan. "Just do what you know is right," she reprimanded, eyes on her work. "You will never be happy otherwise. And you know the kingdom will suffer. It already does. The king is stewing in his misery, and though I know very little of politics, I know that this is a poor position from which to lead, or protect, or negotiate. And my entire mission here will be for naught if our other defenses are not maintained."
Elluin mumbled her reluctant agreement. Turiel finally stopped her scraping and turned sharply to her friend. "Well, it's in your hands now," she said firmly. "You take care of the Greenwood's physical needs well and eagerly enough. Now see to its heart!"
The housekeeper allowed the words to sink in before she sighed and rose. She walked over to wrap her friend in an embrace that was half gratitude and half seeking refuge from fear. "I will tell you now, as I did that winter: your counsel is wise, and I thank you for it."
"Please, dear friend, consider it well," Turiel said into her companion's hair, returning the embrace. "I so wish to see you happy. The stars have long since fallen from your eyes."
"They are in the king's keeping," Elluin lamented, "and he burns, though he knows it not, for withholding them."
Turiel withdrew slightly to take a hold of her friend's shoulders. "Reclaim them, and restore the heart of Greenwood."
Elluin bit her lip, but a fire of determination sparked in her eyes. She nodded decisively.
~.~.~
Anarrima linked her arm around Thranduil's as they set off from the palace. She had insisted that he come on a walk with her after dinner, as there was something she wished for him to see.
"I have little patience for guessing games," the Elvenking grumbled quietly, though he did not resist. "Will you not tell me where we are going?"
"You will soon see," Anarrima said stoically. "Besides, this is important. You will thank me, in the end."
The woods were quiet, and the night was warm as spring began relinquishing its grip on the forest to summer. The hoot of a tawny owl sounded nearby — a signal from the silent guards to tell Thranduil they were following, in addition to the two that marched behind them in plain sight at a respectful distance.
The path became increasingly familiar to Thranduil as his aunt led him further. He slowed his step.
"Aunt, what are you planning?" he asked, obviously displeased in his suspicion.
"I will have no complaints from you, Thranduil," she snapped.
Her tone surprised him — Anarrima had never scolded him, not even when he was a child. Whatever she intended, Thranduil surmised she felt quite strongly about it. He tried to push aside his annoyance.
"Trust me," she said more gently.
Sure enough, Thranduil soon saw the house Elluin shared with her parents through the trees as they drew nearer. But instead of leading him to the door, Anarrima took him around to Elluin's garden. They came to a stop at its edge.
It took a moment for Thranduil to discern what was before him through the darkness of night. It was not at all as he remembered from that night that Elluin brought him here and he revealed his feelings for her. But one thing was the same: in its center was the same young Elven maiden kneeling in the grass beside her daisies, waiting for him.