Chapter 4: An Honorable Leader

(*)

Watching the forest was tedious. It was tempting to listen in on the closest conversation happening behind his back, just to have something to think about. When he'd first joined the marchwardens in Doriath, after the fall of the Girdle of Melian, he might have done so. But he'd learned the hard way to take guard duties seriously. Instead, he made himself scan his section of the perimeter Oropher had set up around their temporary camp. Nothing but the same trees he'd been looking at for hours.

Behind him, the hushed voices of the Sindar erupted in a wave of gasps and cries, followed by excited chatter. Thranduil turned sharply to look over his shoulder, tensing for a fight. Instead, he let his sword arm fall. He realized his mouth was hanging open and made himself close it.

On the eastern edge of the clearing, six dark-haired elves were walking into the camp. Leading them was Rauwen, the 'huntress' he'd found in the woods – except she was in an extravagantly blue, finely-embroidered robe that must have cost a small fortune in dyes. She had a crown of white flowers braided into her hair. She was truly a beautiful elleth – with her sword still hanging at her hip. She padded silently across the Sindar camp as though she owned it, making a straight line for Oropher's makeshift tent.

Thranduil turned to look at his father, who caught his eye and urgently waved him over. Oropher pushed another fighter towards him, presumably to take Thranduil's place along the perimeter.

The other Silvans wore tunics or robes made of layers of light, airy cloth dyed in natural colors. With the embroidery at the collars and hems, Thranduil thought they looked like fine clothes, especially compared with Rauwen's hunting clothes he'd seen yesterday – but they were nothing like the clothes the nobles of Doriath had worn. It didn't seem like the Silvans had silk at all, nevermind the famous shot-silk the ellith of Menegroth made under Queen Melian's direction. It had shifted colors in the light, delicate as butterflies' wings. He'd not worn anything so beautiful in long years now. Even the Silvans' finery would be an improvement now.

Thranduil redirected his wandering thoughts and scanned the visitors for weapons. He didn't see another sword among them, although they all carried hunting knives. Two of them at the back had long wooden spears with dark, heavy looking blades strapped to their ends. An elleth who walked close to Rauwen's side had a bow and a quiver of arrows, but the bow was not strung.

Oropher's eyes darted towards his son as Rauwen approached him. Thranduil jogged across the camp, arriving just as Rauwen reached his father's command post.

"Lady Rauwen, well met!" Thranduil greeted her. He bowed deeply to her. "Forgive me, it seems I did not greet you properly yesterday. I mistook you for a huntress."

Thranduil heard his father take a breath of relief behind him.

"I am a huntress," Rauwen said with a nod and a fleeting, wry smile.

"Of course," Thranduil said smoothly. "May I introduce you to my father, Lord Oropher, son of Olwë, and my mother, Lady Elraënor, daughter of Auril?"

Rauwen bowed her head towards them and breathed in to speak.

A Silvan elf at Rauwen's elbow stepped forward, dressed in a long, pale green robe so covered with yellow embroidery it almost looked stiff.

"If I may present the leader of our clan to our guests?" he said. Rauwen looked at him sideways, but nodded at him.

"Lord Oropher, Lady Elraënor, well met. I present to you our Tywysoges – I believe you might say 'Prince' – the Lady Rauwen, daughter of Lavangwen, daughter of Lenwë."

Thranduil watched his father's eyes light up before he bowed his head and lifted his palm in greeting.

"Well met, Lady Rauwen," Elraënor said as she curtsied gracefully at Oropher's side.

"Well met, Lord Oropher, Lady Elraënor," Rauwen said, returning the bow. She looked at Thranduil curiously, then nodded her head at him as well.

"Lord Oropher," Rauwen said. "I had heard from your son that you are looking for my grandfather. I regret to inform you that he is rather far north from here still. I am the leader of the clan whose territory you are passing through, so I have come in his stead." She placed a slight emphasis on the phrase 'passing through'.

"Very well met indeed," Oropher replied. "When my son reported that he tripped a snare and met a huntress in the woods, I would not have dared to dream that he found the grandchild of the very lord we sought!"

Thranduil felt his stomach drop and his mouth go dry. Rauwen glanced at him, giving him a brief, questioning look. He could think of nothing to do but bow his head respectfully, if nothing else then to hide his reddening face. He couldn't bring himself to look at her people. Were they laughing at him, not only for being caught in their net, but also lying about it to his father?

Oropher continued. "I regret I cannot host you better: we have been traveling for many months. I should have liked to be able to offer the hospitality of Menegroth to the granddaughter of King Lenwë."

"We Silvan elves do not have Kings anymore. My grandfather is also called Tywysog, just as I am," Rauwen said, a little too sharply.

Oropher raised an eyebrow. He and Rauwen locked eyes.

Thranduil held his breath. It had all become so delicate so quickly. He hoped his lie of omission about the net trap was not about to bite him. His father would be furious at the embarrassment of it all, should the truth come out now.

"Your pardon, Tywysoges Rauwen," Oropher said, finally looking away after a few uncomfortable seconds. "We are unfamiliar with your titles."

"Naturally," the elf who had announced Rauwen interjected. "We may be kin, but we have been apart for many centuries now. How much we must have to learn from each other!"

"Just so, Wisdom Keeper," Elraënor said gently to the Silvan speaker. Thranduil could hear the dreamy quality in her voice that he associated with her moments of Sight. "The Greenwood is not like the forests of our home in Doriath. I think there must be much you could teach us."

Rauwen and Oropher were both silent. Thranduil could see them eyeing each other as well as Elraënor and the mysterious Silvan 'wisdom keeper.'

"The Greenwood is a mystery unto itself. It can take centuries to learn its ways," Rauwen finally said, her voice carefully neutral. "Worry not, my lord, we are here to trade news and to give aid. It is we who will host you today, if you will follow me.

"I regret to tell you that your camp is not in a good location. I fear you may have already attracted a dangerous amount of attention since you decided to stop here. I have sent my people ahead to make ready a better place for your people to take some rest. They will have begun preparing food, so that we can speak comfortably and safely. I expect there is much to say."

Thranduil didn't hear whatever his father said next, although he saw the quickly concealed annoyance cross Oropher's face.

All Thranduil could think about was that she still hadn't said anything about the trap. Why? Surely it would strengthen her position, if she and his father were testing each other.

Thranduil dared a glance at the rest of the Silvans to see if they were laughing at him, but they were either watching their leader, or else looking over the Sindar camp with curiosity. The elleth who stood at Rauwen's side was watching him, but she only smiled when she noticed him looking at her. She looked so friendly he couldn't help but smile back.

"Very well, then," Oropher said. "I thank you for your kind offer. It will take us a little time to break camp, of course, before we will follow you."

"Of course," Rauwen agreed. "We will assist you. It is better to cross the lake before the sun sets if we can. Best that we move quickly now."

Oropher nodded briskly and stood. "Come everyone, we must move," he said, addressing the gathering of rapt Sindar. "Lady Rauwen and her people know this forest better than we. If she says we ought not tarry here, then we will not."

Behind him, Thranduil could hear a sudden flurry of movement and excited whispers. He had missed something about a lake, it seemed. His mother went to gather up the sewing supplies she and her ladies had been using. A few of the Silvans offered to help take down the tarpaulin.

In the pause before he found something useful to do with himself, Thranduil caught Rauwen's eye. She gave him a brisk nod – the kind of nod one soldier might give to another. He returned it reflexively, then watched her back as she strode forward along with her people. The brown-haired elleth at her side smiled at him curiously, prompting him to shake off his confusion, turn, and put himself to good use.

(*)

Elraënor did not need a vision to know that her husband would seek her out momentarily. His trepidation with their situation blared in their bond, so loud she shrank from it. From the first day they'd met, she'd known Oropher would be her only love, but they had their differences. He could be unsubtle – a trait Elraënor had learned to meet with resolute patience in the moments it chafed her.

She watched the scene unfolding and could not disagree with her husband's assessment, though. The Silvan elves herded the first group of Sindar into their small boats and rafts, which sank low in the water with the weight of the Sindar company and their supplies. On an island, far off the shore, there were subtle signs that elves were already there: a wisp of white smoke, a well-disguised figure slipping towards the water's edge with a bucket to fill with water.

She counted the occupants of the boats, her own people, and the Silvans still on the shore helping them prepare. She realized it might take two or three trips back and forth with the boats to move everyone across. It would be too far to swim with all their belongings, she could tell. The water was cold, and the night would be colder still. Together, it painted a clear picture: once the Sindar were on the island, they could not easily leave.

Oropher was on the shore, speaking with Rauwen. Thranduil was close beside him, listening while he helped pack provisions into the boats. That, at least, made Elraënor smile. Her poor son had become so grim since the disasters that had chased them from their homes and driven her daughter West. Better to see him like this, engaged alongside his father, working towards the new future she saw glimpses of in her dreams.

Oropher glanced back at her when Rauwen turned to speak to another Silvan elf. Elraënor could feel him seeking her out, asking a question without words. They had been married so long she knew very well what he hoped she could give him – but her Sight was fickle and could rarely be bent to her own will. It had never been for her as it had been for Lady Galadriel, who could bid her own mind towards wonders. Still, as always, for her Lord, Elraënor would try.

She shifted her mind, taking a deep breath to slow her heart. She let her eyes float, passing over the waters of the lake, which burned orange under the sunset. Dark trees stood sentry all around them, including the thick, black stand of them out on the water, where they were meant to be fleeing to safety. Elraënor had a sudden feeling that something lurked behind her, staring at her back, waiting for a moment it could pounce. She shivered. When she looked behind her, she could see nothing but the still, dark forest.

Slowly, a high-pitched whine infiltrated her ears. The air shimmered slightly, as though she was looking through the finest silk veil. It was working. The Sight was with her tonight.

Oropher turned his head towards her sharply, but Elraënor looked away. She let the Sight guide her eyes, viewing the scene before her through the veil of its power, looking for any guidance that might be offered. Her husband was striding across the rocky beach towards her now, but she could not look away from the boats: the pull of the Sight demanded her attention on them.

Lady Rauwen was speaking, motioning towards a raft. Elraënor squinted, trying to concentrate the Sight – seeking anything more than the barest intuitive desire to watch the Silvan leader. Rauwen patted the arm of one of her own followers, then stepped into a discussion between Thranduil and Meldisser that was starting to get animated.

"We can fit more in this boat, Thranduil. It is already getting darker. This will take all night!" Meldisser said, exasperated.

"It looks too full," Thranduil said stubbornly, frowning down into the vessel.

"What do you know about boats?" Meldisser huffed.

Rauwen stepped between them and looked down into the boat. Her arm brushed against Thranduil's for a moment when she leaned to see better. He looked away from the supplies and towards her, staring at the spot where they'd touched. Elraënor felt her heart skip a beat.

"Take the extra trip," Rauwen said. "Be safe." Her voice carried over the water, drawing out the last word in a rippling sigh. Safe.

In Elraënor's Sight-vision, the star of Ëarendil floated high above the Silvan leader's head, pulsing with a white light that touched Rauwen's brow like the jewel of a crown.

Oropher touched her shoulder and the Sight slipped away from Elraënor like a spooked fish. The shimmer that had touched everything she saw dissolved, leaving her in the growing darkness.

"You saw something, I felt it," he whispered. She could feel her husband watching her, straddling a tense line between hope and fear.

"You were going to ask me if I could use the Sight, my love. I know this plan is risky, but we have been fortunate tonight. I was able to See a little. We should follow Lenwë's granddaughter. She is important. I do not know why yet, but I think our people's safety is in her hands, and for that we should be grateful."

Oropher nodded and looked back at their people, who were weary after the battering they'd been given in the last century. Elraënor could feel his unease loosen a little.

"So be it," Oropher said.

(*)

Rauwen watched the last of the boats approaching the island shore, emerging slowly out of the darkness that hung over the lake. It had been too easy to track them – the Sindar prince's white-blond hair reflected the starlight so brightly it almost looked as though there was a lantern floating on the water. A shiver ran down her spine. It defied every instinct she'd ever learned about staying safe. An elf should stay hidden. An elf should slip through the night unseen and unheard, as if he'd never been there. An elf should not blaze like a candle in the dark, alerting anything that cared to look of his presence.

A splash echoed over the water as he jumped into the shallows near the shore. Rauwen saw her people startle and stare at him in confusion as he towed the boat halfway up onto the rocks. Behind her, Rauwen could hear the sounds of chatter and quiet music. Yes, this was the place for the Sindar. They could be as conspicuous as they liked and still be safe, or so she hoped.

Rauwen approached and addressed her people, speaking quietly out of stubborn habit.

"Tie the boats up. Bring the last of our guests' belongings into the village, then set up a watch around the perimeter of the island. I do not care who takes the watch so long as they are sober: arrange it as you will. Orcs have never taken to the water before, but we should not be complacent."

Her Silvans nodded in agreement. Rauwen turned to Thranduil and the other Sindar lieutenant who'd taken up the rear guard of their company.

"Your people are already eating and getting comfortable. Come, let us join them," she said. She needed to return. Erisdir was entertaining Oropher and his wife by himself – he might say anything while she was gone. It could be disastrous.

Thranduil paused, watching the Silvans conversing while they tied up their boats. They'd waved him off when he tried to do more than lift the last bundles of his people's supplies, which had promptly been taken from him. He stood empty handed, his fingers idly playing over the pommel of his sword. The other Sindar had already started walking towards the voices and firelight that floated among the dark trees.

Rauwen smiled. She recognized the restlessness that had plagued her before she'd split off with her own clan: the feeling of needing to be useful, but having nothing to do.

"I can join the watch," he said.

She shook her head at him. She gestured that he should follow her and began walking back towards the gathering. "I am afraid you have other duties tonight, Prince Thranduil. Your father has been looking for your arrival," she said.

She saw Thranduil's mouth purse for a moment. He took in a deep breath as though he were going to speak or sigh in exasperation, but he let it out silently and followed her.

"It was 'Prince' was it not? You introduced your father as a 'Lord,' not a 'King,'" she said.

Thranduil looked at her, his face on the verge of being affronted. She gave him a teasing grin and he huffed, shaking his head at her with a wry smile.

"You are fond of jests, Lady Rauwen. It sounds as though you are not the only one. Unless I am mistaken, there is a feast in progress," he added, nodding his head towards the sounds ahead of them. Rauwen could hear happy voices and laughter as they got closer.

Rauwen nodded. She let her eyes wander, thinking of her people fondly. The whole clan had sprung into action when she'd announced her plan that morning, both curious to meet the mysterious Sindar elves and eager to prepare a warm welcome for them.

"We greet you as we would wish to be greeted should we find ourselves in your circumstances. I think you have spent too long wandering, finding lean food in the wild as you go. Tonight you can sleep easily and eat well – and drink! We can save the serious discussions for the light of day."

"It seems I have much to thank you for. We all do," Thranduil said quietly, his eyes darting ahead to see if the other Sindar were in hearing range.

Rauwen waited until he looked at her again and spoke earnestly. "I am glad to do it. I was reminded tonight of just how close our people are. My own dear friend, Sûlwen, had hoped her brother's family would be among you. The last we had heard of them they had joined King Thingol's realm. She was grieved to learn that his wife also died, and yet she was overjoyed to meet his daughter in her stead. Your friend, Medisser, is her niece!"

"Truly?" Thranduil exclaimed. "That will please Meldisser! So many of her friends and close kin went into the West. I think she has doubted her choice to stay sometimes because she is so alone. But now – an aunt!"

"They are both happy," Rauwen agreed. Watching her friend's face shift from tears to joy as she'd learned about her law-sister's fate, then of her niece, had softened some of Rauwen's resistance to welcoming the Sindar. She could not deny Sûlwen such a treasured connection.

She glanced ahead. They'd come to the edge of the clearing where a small feast was in full swing. Her own people were already comfortable, passing around carved wooden bowls of fish stew, along with jugs that she knew were filled with strong moon-brewed berry wine. The Sindar elves sipped and nibbled, wide eyed as the Silvans tried to draw them into conversation and song. Near the fire, Sûlwen sat with Meldisser, speaking and smiling with her niece's hands clasped in her own.

On the other side of the clearing, at the stone table, Oropher sat with his wife. They both listened politely to Erisdir as he spoke words Rauwen could not hear. She needed to return – now. She turned to Thranduil again.

"As for that which I did not say today, there is no need to speak of it again. Sûlwen knows, but I have told her to keep her tongue, and she will. It serves no purpose to say more than has already been said. We can let it lie."

"You are an honorable leader, Tywysoges Rauwen," Thranduil said, bowing his head towards her. "I am grateful that fate led me to you – in whatever manner."

"So serious, Prince Thranduil," she teased, but she returned his gesture. "Come, join me and your family at the high table. You must try our wine – and some moon dumplings!"

She liked this Sindar Prince, which was more than she could say for his father so far. Thranduil seemed dutiful and courtly where Oropher was decisive to the point of being bossy.

Thranduil must take after his mother, Rauwen thought to herself. Without thinking, she glanced at Oropher's quiet, pale wife and nearly startled. The Sindar lady watched Rauwen, unblinking – Rauwen felt as though Elraënor was looking right through her, at something far, far away.

When Thranduil stepped forward, moving towards his parents, Elraënor shifted her eyes to her son and smiled, breaking the spell. Rauwen made herself release a long, controlled breath to get her strangely racing heart under control.

(*)

Notes:

Thank you always, readers, for your time and attention. We're on our way to the Silvans and Sindar getting to know each other. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, which builds towards the first chance the groups will have to take stock of each other! This is also the first time we see a perspective other than Thranduil and Rauwen, I know! So far I think it will be mostly the perspectives of those two, with occasional moments that follow Thranduil's parents so we can see them from the outside.

I would love to hear your thoughts if you would leave a comment, please! I've been stuck on Chapter 9 for a little while now, so I could use the boost if you would be so kind! (I think I know what to do next, but it's been slow going.) What do you like about the couple or the story so far? Is there anything you're hoping to see?

I don't think there are new terms to explain this time. This chapter is a bit transitional, so I don't think it gets into as much world building. The Silvans' love of water and boats is canon, though, from Tolkien's notes about them, so that's a fun fact!