57 – The Return of the King
Milleth was out of breath when she burst into Galion's office.
"Bird messages from the king, my lord," she announced urgently, eyes wide, handing two rolled pieces of paper to the steward.
Galion was out of his chair in an instant, all but tearing at the one addressed to him. Had some ill befallen the king on his journey? He took a hold of himself and unrolled the page.
Galion -
I write in haste and with trust in your unfailing assistance in all things. I come by boat up the Anduin and should reach the Old Ford in five days' time, if all goes well. I will need horses for myself and the eight guards in my company to meet us there, with fresh mounts along the Forest Road to bear us with all speed back to the palace.
I entrust Elluin to you, though I suspect you have already done much to support her. If I arrive to find her gone, I know it will not be of your doing. It is my aim to rescue her from my folly.
Galion's relief was so profound that he sank back into his chair.
Milleth gasped, thinking the worst. "The king?" she asked nervously.
"He is well. He is returning," Galion reassured. He cast shrewd eyes over her and saw she had recovered her breath. "Milleth, will you fetch me General Cembeleg and the stablemaster?"
As the servant rushed off to comply, Galion rushed to the king's chambers. He found Maethon there, polishing a pair of the king's boots. By the leather's gleam, the steward guessed that it was certainly not the first, nor even the second time this task had been undertaken.
"Lord Galion." Maethon rose to greet him.
"The rings, Maethon?"
Galion was distantly amused at the shocked expression on the servant's face before he recovered himself.
"The king has seen his error, then, and returns?"
"As we speak."
"By all the stars," Maethon muttered, running a hand over his tired eyes. Then he jogged over to a chest, drawing out a small box hidden in a bottom corner to hand over. "Freshly polished," he admitted.
Galion smiled at the obstinate hope. With a nod of thanks, he left to continue the preparations.
~.~.~
Elluin walked slowly through the forest as she might have done on any similarly sunny afternoon. Before, she would have stopped at each blooming plant, enjoying the scent of new life, the feel of newborn leaves against her fingertips, and the birds chirping their joy at it all. But now, she acknowledged none of her senses. Her feet bore her forward in search of something that she had lost. She blinked, awareness returning briefly to her as she wondered; what was it again that she was looking for?
The ache in her chest reminded her. Oh, yes—her heart.
It was somewhere in the forest, here in the Greenwood that she loved. She had given it a final gift: another alliance, this time one to last well beyond a single generation of the mortal Men that made up half of the plan. She had, of course, used a trick of Cirdan's to foster the friendship between Silvans and Northmen, once the opportunity presented itself. Elluin had noticed similar wounds on the arms of an Elf and a Man in the aftermath of the uncontrolled fall of the tree, then initiated the plan to act as mother to both. She sat them side by side and treated their wounds with care and consoling words, then went on to chastise the lot of them for recklessness, finding enough blame on both sides for them all to feel the sting. Then she gave them a task to remediate their errors, in such a way as to obligate them to work together: dragging the tree to its correct place, stripping the twigs and chopping the branches to haul out onto the plains.
And since the two groups of their two peoples had shared a frightening event, an uncomfortable consequence, and a satisfying solution they brought about themselves, it suddenly became obvious that they could share so many more and pleasanter things. It started with an exceptional meal that Elluin happened to have brought in baskets to the felling site. And it continued with conversation, as she had coincidentally chosen only Silvans who had some command of the Common Tongue used by the Men. And thus the friendship had progressed without her having to interfere any further.
But how it had taxed her… How she had fought for each breath walking home that evening, feeling that all of her mental and physical strength had been spent, and that no amount of rest would allow her to recover. She had not noticed the terror in her parents' eyes when they met her at the door, but obediently followed their instructions. She bathed, allowing her mother to wash off the dirt flung onto her skin by dead branches striking the earth. She ate, tasting nothing as she brought the spoon to her lips. She slept, and heard nothing of the song her father sang from the next room.
The next morning, she did not rise from her bed despite her parents' entreaties. It was Galion who had finally stirred her, coming right into her bedroom and seating himself beside her.
"My lady, the palace has need of you," he had told her, his eyes determined. She was too distracted by the hollowness between her ribs to notice the worry in his eyes. "You are expected to attend the council this morning."
"I am not recovered from yesterday's ordeal," Elluin had answered honestly, surprised in the strength of her voice.
"I understand. I have brought your ledgers and Dinen's tallies for the week. Please complete your accounts by evening. I will return then. I would hate for the king's household to be inconvenienced by its mistress's neglect."
It had been enough to get her to rise and go to the kitchen table, eyes squinting and brow wrinkled in concentration. It took her all day, but she completed the ledgers, something that, a week prior, would have taken her a mere hour or two.
Maethon had come the next day with a bouquet of flowers, and told her that his grandsire was on his way by his request. They waited for the old ellon at a bench near the house—the opposite side of the house from where her wilted garden lay, a dead limb in an otherwise invigorated summer forest. She had only participated in conversation that recalled the past, remaining oddly silent in answer to questions or guesses about the future. She barely remembered anything about Thalven's visit except warm hands cupping her cheeks, and sharp eyes boring into her empty ones.
That was three days ago. And now she walked, and searched. The forest did not allow her to get lost, despite her every attempt. Somehow, each path would lead her back to the palace, staring at each royal talan cradled in the trees, each royal building carved from gleaming wood. But there was nothing there for her. You bring me nothing but pain, Thranduil had told her. She could not go there again. He had kept his distance in order to save her from harm. Elluin would do the same. But her heart was lost.
That afternoon when she came involuntarily, again, to the palace, a soldier had materialized before her, an anxious look on his face.
"Aurados." She saw him as if from far away, though he was close enough to touch. She belatedly realized he was speaking to her. "What did you say?"
"This message came for you yesterday, Elluin, but we could not find you, and the forest was silent," Aurados said, his every instinct as a Silvan soldier obviously offended. "It is for you, from the king."
Elluin allowed her confusion to surface. "But the king wishes me gone from him."
"Will you read the message?" It was not a question. He pressed it into her hands. She could not quite grip it, and it fluttered out of her fingers.
Aurados intercepted it easily, cursing with a note of worry under his breath. This called Elluin's attention back a little more, and the next time the soldier held out the page, she was able to take it, though her fingers trembled. And despite the script, familiar and elegantly straightforward as always, it took her many long moments to decipher the meaning through the haze around her mind.
My most cherished lady, Elluin, my heart -
I have seen sense at last. I take back my cruel words to you at our last meeting. There is no truth in them. You are everything I need and more, and I adore you. You give me light and life, and I dearly wish to do the same for you.
Forgive me and my hurtful foolishness. I am even now preparing to come to you. It is my foremost wish to hold you again, and convince you of my sincerity.
With all the love I possess,
Thranduil
Elluin stared at the words on the page, unbelieving. She looked up at Aurados, who responded to the plea in her eyes instantly, taking the note from her and reading it aloud for her, with no hint of reluctance to breach confidentiality. He held her hand as he did so.
"Elluin, do you understand?" Aurados' eyes were beseeching, and sparkling with hope. "He's coming back for you. You are to be his queen."
"No…" she murmured easily, pulling her hand away and shaking her head. "That cannot be. He will change his mind again. He will not allow me into his heart."
She started to walk away, but Aurados took a hold of her arm.
"Forgive me, my lady," he said, the regret evident in his tone. "I am ordered not to permit you to wander away again. King Thranduil needs to be able to find you when he arrives."
She still did not believe him, but she was aware enough to know that the soldier would not let her go alone.
"Then let him find me at my house."
Aurados bowed. Why would he bow to her? He was a soldier, and she a housekeeper—one who was no longer able to fulfill the duties of her post. He owed her no such deference. Then he whistled, loudly enough to startle her, and kept his gentle grip on her arm as another soldier appeared from between the trees and ran up to them.
"I am taking Lady Elluin to her home," Aurados told the ellon, who saluted and left.
~.~.~
The first of Greenwood's guard posts was finally visible through the trees near the Old Forest Road. Thranduil and his party were soon hailed by a familiar soldier.
Thranduil wasted no time. "Harthadon, do you have mounts for us?"
"Well met, sire. We do, indeed." Harthadon's usually merry face was serious as he jogged up to salute. "And a message from Lord Galion."
Thranduil nearly tripped over his own feet as he came to an abrupt stop, staring with silent desperation at the soldier.
"The steward says that Lady Elluin is in a bad way but holding on."
Thranduil squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. A heartbeat later, Harthadon fell into step beside Thranduil as they marched briskly toward the horses.
"Another thing, sire," he said, taking a small cloth bag out of his pocket. "I was ordered to convey this safely unto the king's possession under pain of death."
Thranduil's eyebrows raised in surprise, until he felt the familiar shapes concealed within the cloth.
"What faith Galion has," he murmured, stowing the parcel securely against his chest as he mounted his horse.
~.~.~
"Curse this useless beast!" the Elvenking shouted as he dismounted. His horse had stumbled one too many times in the darkness of night beneath the trees.
"Will you not rest, sire? You have not slept in two days." Telior made the suggestion because it was his duty to do so, but his voice was resigned, already knowing what the response would be.
"No, we must continue," Thranduil said, taking a hold of the horse's mane to guide it along on foot.
"Lanterns!" Telior suddenly commanded. "Forgive me, sire, I should have thought of it sooner."
Thranduil bit back a useless retort. He had no time for it. Galion's message at the last outpost was brief but chilling: "She no longer speaks or eats. There can be no delay."
There were no lanterns to be had among their things. They settled for holding torches. It allowed the horses to see the path well enough to trot. Thranduil wished for the sun to rise, to bathe the world in light that would speed him on his way. But he also prayed for its delay, knowing that every hour brought Elluin closer to the Halls of Mandos, and he was not yet by her side to save her.
Would he save her? he wondered. Even if he arrived in time, would she believe him? After all the hurt he had given her, was Elluin still capable of accepting his love?
~.~.~
It took two more days, eight more exhausted mounts, before the palace came into view. Thranduil did not stop there, heading instead straight for the path that led to Elluin's house. His legs trembled beneath him as he slid from his horse's back. Aurados was there to meet him, confirming with tight lips and a curt nod that there was still a little time. He forced his weary body forward, inwardly cursing it for moving too slowly.
Thranduil spotted Soronume in his workshop, sawing through a piece of thick wood as if he were angry with it. He looked up as the king drew nearer, and fury bloomed on his face. In a twinkling, he was outside of the building, his fists clenched at his sides. As Thranduil closed the distance between them, Soronume took a few steps forward. Thranduil made a surreptitious gesture to prevent his guards from intervening against the rage on the carpenter's face.
"Why are you here?" Soronume demanded.
"I have come to right my wrongs," Thranduil answered immediately— "to mend what I have broken."
"I should thrash you, you monstrous idiot," Soronume seethed, taking a hold of the king's arm. Thranduil was more than willing to accept any abuse from his beloved's father. It was certainly deserved. But, to his surprise, Soronume simply pulled him along a path into the trees for a short way, before releasing his punishing grip and pointing toward the south. "She is in a clearing, that way. Go to her."
Thranduil nodded his thanks and resumed his brisk pace.
"Elvenking," Soronume called again. Thranduil obediently turned to look back at the scowling Elf. His voice was choked as he called, "If she survives, marry her, as soon as she is able to accept you. Do you understand?"
"I shall," he answered. The conviction in his tone was apparently enough to satisfy Soronume, who gave him a dismissive nod.
Thranduil ran.