67 - The Elvenqueen

The quiet chirping of birds in the surrounding canopy pulled Elluin from her sleep well after dawn, with cheery sunlight filtering through the leaves and the drawn curtains over the windows. For a brief instant, she thought she was in her parents' house and would be late for the morning meeting in the kitchens. But the warmth surrounding her brought the recollection of the previous night crashing happily back into her mind. She felt strangely tired, but carried such a sense of fulfillment and elation that she paid it no mind.

Blinking, she turned her head very slightly to the side to see Thranduil sleeping soundly beside her. She did not wish to move, as he had his muscled arm draped across her stomach, his cheek resting on her shoulder. His back was exposed to the chill air, and she watched the rise and fall of his breaths as she felt them on her skin for many long moments.

Elluin almost gasped when she moved her gaze to Thranduil's face. There was such a peacefulness to his features that she had never seen before. Tears of joy formed in her eyes. Moving as little as she could, she wiped them away before they could fall.

Of course, Thranduil happened to blink his eyes in wakefulness at that exact moment. Seeing the movement, his face grew concerned and he hugged her closer to him while raising himself up onto his other elbow.

"Elluin, what's wrong?" he asked, groggy but anxious.

She brought her hand away from her face to beam at him. "Nothing at all," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm just so happy."

A breath of relief escaped him and he dropped his head to smile into her neck, soon allowing much of the weight of his torso to rest on hers. "That is my dearest wish," he said. He did not move for many moments as they both enjoyed the other's closeness and warmth.

"My heart, am I too heavy for you?" he asked eventually, his voice muffled by her hair.

"I can manage a while longer," she answered with a small chuckle.

Thranduil groaned and rolled slowly to the side, but pulled her along so most of her body leaned on his. She settled gladly into the new position, noting that Thranduil had his eyes closed and did not look ready to stir again despite the hour.

"Are you well, my love?" she asked in concern, raising her head.

"Yes, just tired," Thranduil reassured her. "Forming the bond took some strength. Were you not affected?"

"Apparently not as much as you," Elluin replied. "I am tired, but I can move a little more easily. I was thinking to rise and see about breakfast…if I do not have to move far to get it."

"It is because of my age, I think," he mused, his eyes still closed. "It seems it takes more energy to move a spirit that has been housed alone in one body for thousands of years, than it does to move one that is less than one hundred years old, like yours."

"You're probably right."

Thranduil smirked. "But you would receive no protest from me if you were to bring breakfast." He opened one eye to peer at her seriously. "As long as you return quickly, my heart. I find I am not willing to be distant from you."

"I feel the same," Elluin answered. She remained still for several more moments, enjoying the feel of his heartbeat below her palm. But she was spurred at last to motion by the knowledge that Thranduil would regain his strength more quickly if he ate.

Thranduil groaned weakly in protest when she rose. Not wishing to bother with her discarded nightgown, she tied on Thranduil's robe from the night before as it lay across her path, moving sluggishly even as she smiled. Then with heavy footsteps, she opened the door between the bedchamber and the receiving room. As she expected, a covered tray was waiting on a table near the door. She wondered briefly who had left it there, and was grateful that nobody was there to see her take it.

As she closed the door behind her again with her elbow, Elluin suddenly realized that she would likely have to act differently toward the palace staff now, especially as she performed the more formal parts of her duties. She imagined herself walking in her new court raiment past the silent messengers at their stations, or the bustling servants throughout the hallways, lacking the time to acknowledge them with even a glance though she had worked alongside most of them for many years.

Thranduil had managed to drag himself into a sitting position as she returned, and Elluin found him studying her face, once she regained her wits. She had lost them temporarily, met as she was with the sight of Thranduil unclothed on the rumpled bed.

"Something displeased you just now," he noted. A small smile grew on his face. "It seems unlikely that wearing my robe caused such a reaction. You look rather fetching."

She smiled back at him, but lacked the energy to twirl in response as she would have wished. Still, since Elluin was shorter than the king, the robe trailed on the polished wooden floor, which dragged apart the opening to reveal much of her legs as he walked. The answering hunger in Thranduil's eyes confirmed that she needed no other gesture to fully capture his regard.

"You do not mind that I stole it?" she asked, fighting a blush and setting the tray on the bed beside Thranduil's bare form.

"Not in the least, my heart," he replied. Then, with a chuckle, he added, "Though it is hardly fair, for I believe your nightgown would be most unflattering on me."

They laughed together as Elluin stalked to a chest close by. She pulled out one of Thranduil's long casual shirts and brought it to him. He sighed as he pushed off the headboard to put it on with some effort, Elluin tugging at the hem to assist. He slumped back again, with some disappointment in his eyes.

"My love, now you are the one who seems unhappy," Elluin noted as she walked around to the other side of the bed again to sit down. Her side of the bed, she reflected with a small thrill.

"We are both clothed," he explained dejectedly, making Elluin laugh again.

"That is rather a relative term in this situation, my love," she said, and lifted off the tray's cover. She was pleased to find apples, grapes, cheese, boiled eggs, and nut bread with butter. "And the day is young," she added shyly.

"Indeed it is," Thranduil replied in a warm tone, and exerted himself to pick a grape from the tray and slide it into Elluin's mouth, lazily caressing her lips with his fingers as he did so.

Elluin chewed and, after swallowing with some difficulty, did not quite manage a chiding tone when she addressed him. "Thranduil, you must eat to help you regain your strength."

He smirked beguilingly. "It seems your primary concern that I do so."

She could not prevent a giggle from bubbling forth. "So what if it is? Will you thwart me?"

"Certainly not, if it is my queen's wish," Thranduil answered quickly, starting on his meal in earnest though he largely kept his dancing eyes on his bride. But he sobered even as he ate, seeing how her face fell slightly around her own daintier bites.

"Tell me what bothers you, my heart," he insisted.

She glanced at him before speaking. "It occurs to me that I will not enjoy the same relationship that I've had with the servants of the halls," she admitted. "I regret that some of them will think me too elevated to care about them, now that I am queen."

Thranduil studied her for a moment as he finished an apple. At last he said, "Elluin, a few years ago, such a servant came to this very chamber and taught me something that I had not realized."

She looked at him in interest, suspecting from his tender gaze that he was speaking of when they were first introduced.

"She taught me that the people love me despite the distance my rank imposes — that they understand the weight of the crown and its duties, and the love and dedication required to bear it. The people will think no differently of you, my heart. The way you show your care for our people will shift, perhaps, from what it was before. But none would dare think that your care has lessened."

Elluin smiled at the memory, then allowed the lesson to extend to herself as she thoughtfully ate of the bread.

"Are you satisfied, lady, that you will retain the love of your subjects?"

"If you found my words to be the truth, I can hardly argue with them," she answered cheerily.

"Good." Thranduil pulled himself forward to lean an elbow on his knee, pegging her with a look. "On the topic of servants, I will have you know that I've placed a spell on this room."

"I know of the spells of warding," Elluin said, curious about the light she could see in his eyes.

"Those remain. There is another. No sound escapes this room unless it be directed intentionally toward our body servants or guards, not through wall, door, or window."

Elluin blushed as she thought back to the noises she and Thranduil undoubtedly made during the previous night, and was belatedly thankful that they remained private. "Thank you," she managed. "I am glad of it."

Thranduil smiled fondly at her before straightening slowly. "I am much revived by the meal, but there is one thing I missed. And you may have a demonstration of the spell at the same time."

"Very well," Elluin said, suppressing her disappointment that the servants had not provided everything the king could wish.

"My armor!" Thranduil called authoritatively. They waited in silence for a while, and when nothing happened, the king smiled at his bride. "Nothing. Now… Maethon!"

After a moment, the door to the king's dressing room opened a small crack, not enough to allow the Elves on either side to see through.

"Good morning, sire," came the slightly muffled reply, and both Thranduil and Elluin smiled at the obvious joy in Maethon's voice.

"A pot of tea, if you will," Thranduil said.

"My lady, shall it be birch tea with honey?"

"Yes, Maethon," she agreed gratefully.

"Right away," the servant said, and the door promptly clicked shut again.

"He knows I prefer it," Elluin explained to Thranduil in response to the eyebrow he raised in question. "And the spell worked!"

"Naturally." Thranduil hummed thoughtfully after a moment. "I notice that Maethon did not even offer to bring my favorite tea," he said. "I suppose he is helping you become accustomed to people catering to your particular whims on your first day as Elvenqueen."

"My whims, indeed," Elluin scoffed. "If our whims were catered to, do you think the desk in the next room would be so laden with official documents you have prepared for your council members to review?"

Thranduil chuckled, leaning comfortably back against the headboard again. "No, indeed. But as the royals of Greenwood, we are allowed some comforts around our duties. For one, my clothes always smell pleasantly of herbs or flowers." He shared a smile with his wife, knowing that had been her doing. "And there is butter for my bread, and Dorwinion wine for my feasts…" His gaze traveled lazily over Elluin's body. "And fine cloth for my garments."

She blushed.

"You are ever enriching my life, Elluin," he told her sincerely.

"It has been my honor," she answered in kind, love shining brightly in her eyes.

The king struggled upright again, and moved the depleted tray to the table beside the bed. "Now, what does the Elvenqueen fancy at the moment?" he asked playfully. "Is there aught I can do to spoil you as you deserve?" He held out his arm in invitation, and she happily crawled into his embrace as he lay back onto the pillows, the silvery robe trailing behind her.

"I daresay there are a few things that would make this morning even more pleasant," she murmured into his jaw, tracing his chest where the loose shirt left skin exposed.

"What things?" he purred.

There was a brisk knock on the door and both of them sighed.

"Tea," Maethon called through the door.

"We are quite indecent, Maethon," Thranduil called with a smirk. "Just set it down on the floor for us."

The door opened again and Maethon—or rather, Maethon's arm, as the rest of him was out of sight behind the wall—slid a tray in on the floor before reaching up and quickly closing the door again.

"Enjoy!" came his voice once more.

Thranduil smiled down at the elleth in his arms. "Shall I bring you some tea, my heart?" he asked tenderly.

"I am thirsty," she replied in a whisper, lifting a hand to run her fingers through his hair, "but not for tea."

"Ah, then allow me to indulge my lady's whims." He kissed her deeply.

The birch tea was stone cold before the king and queen thought of it again.

~.~.~

Turiel sang softly, and the birds in the canopy surrounding the branch she lounged on seemed to harmonize with her tune.

*Down by the daisy gardens

my love and I did meet;

She passed the daisy gardens

with little snow-white feet.

She bid me take love easy,

as the leaves grow on the tree;

But I, being young and foolish,

with her would not agree.

Pedirion watched her silently from a nearby perch. The stars, though they had long since disappeared from the sky, remained in his gray eyes. He would have been the first to admit that he was somewhat disheveled, having spent the night after the wedding feast dancing with the Silvans. But his formal robes, so fit for life in Rivendell as a member of Lord Elrond's court, fell entirely short of the demands of Greenwood's merry-making.

In a field by the river

my love and I did stand,

And on my leaning shoulder

she laid her snow-white hand.

She bid me take life easy,

as the grass grows by the years

But I was young and foolish,

and I'd no lack of tears.

After the king and queen had retired, the music shifted increasingly toward Silvan styles, requiring wider movements. He was soon obliged to discard his outer robe, and he was even now still dressed in his shirt and breeches. His hair, which had swung about him countless times during the turns of the dances, was an unsightly mess of tangles. But he was happier now than he had ever been, in the company of Turiel of Greenwood. Perhaps that is why he made his own contribution to the song, caring more about the opportunity to express his heart than how much less lovely his voice was than hers.

I courted then my lover

'Neath an ancient tree of oak.

At last, my wooing and music

Her heart and passions woke.

She bid me take her hand then,

So she could be my bride.

Like the moss unto the boulders,

She'll never leave my side

Turiel smiled briefly at him, resuming her serene study of the swaying leaves around them.

"You sing well, Pedirion," she said casually.

"My voice is not as fair as the Silvans'," he admitted sadly.

"No," she said breezily, "but you sing with just as much heart. That matters."

"What do you know of my heart, dear Turiel?" He thought he succeeded in keeping his longing for her, and his exasperation at her ignorance, from creeping through her tone.

The elleth sighed and rose from her seat, balancing effortlessly as she walked to the end of her branch and jumped the short distance to where Pedirion sat. She crouched in front of him, pegging him with her honest hazel eyes.

"Not enough," she said. She stood, then, holding her hand out toward him.

His face brightened instantly as he took it. With more patience than he expected, Turiel showed Pedirion how to run the pathways through the branches as the Silvans did. The trees, already glad as they reflected the currently blissful spirit of the Elvenking who stewarded them, cheered further beneath the two Elves' eager leaping feet.

*Adapted from the poem "Down By the Salley Gardens" by William Butler Yeats. I made up a third stanza, because, poor Pedirion! The poem has an established traditional melody that has been recorded by various artists. I prefer the rendition by Loreena McKennit.