Song for This Chapter

Feren opened the door to my chamber. My things were already there, piled upon the floor at the foot of a bed, which was in the center of the rounded, stone-walled cavern. There was a table off to the left, whereon the elves had laid a tray with bread and fruit and a bottle of wine. There was also a high backed chair. Both pieces of furniture were elaborately carved.

To the right of the cavern sat a large stone tub for bathing.

The dwelling was lit with glowing torch lights, the same peculiar kind we had passed earlier.

Feren crossed the room to a large woven basket and opened it, taking out a very warm looking blanket and laying it across the high-backed chair.

"For your comfort, My Lady."

"That is very kind, thank you."

"Of course. "

"Feren...what illuminates these torches?" I asked.

"It is old magic. King Oropher first learned it from the white wizard and we have always lighted the palace thus. It is beautiful, is it not?"

"Yes, it is." Now that I was truly looking, I was mesmerized by it. The light was not made of fire, that I could tell, but its own sort of glow, like a soft orange mist, contained in the shape of a long drop of rain and hanging from the ceiling.

I was no stranger to otherworldly illuminations, and although this was unlike the gold or soft white moonglow of Lothlorien, it made me feel a little closer to my people just the same.

"Please enjoy the wine, a welcome from the king," said Feren. "I promise you will enjoy it."

A welcome from the king. I had to choke back a rather doscourteous reaction to that. "You are well known for the fineness of your wines," I said instead.

"Yes, My Lady."

"I am sure I will enjoy it. You may extend my thanks to your king."

"You mean our king, My Lady. You shall be considered a member of this kingdom."

His words might have been intended as a gesture of inclusion, but they felt more like a warning. I was to treat him not only as a king, but as my king.

"Yes," was all I could offer.

"And you may tell him yourself, if you wish. He holds a feast in honor of your arrival at nightfall."

"...Oh. I see. Eh...are you certain of that, Feren? He seemed...less than happy to meet me earlier. Perhaps that has changed."

"No, My Lady. My king may lack diplomacy in his speech, and indeed he speaks his thoughts rather..." he gave a little shrug of his head, "...unreservedly, but, he is a most gracious host. He would not allow your coming to go unmarked."

I was not convinced. Not one little bit.

"You will get used to his way," added Feren in a sympathetic tone.

I smiled. "Thank you. I'm sure it will be just fine," I lied, if only to soothe the tired look upon his face.

"Feel free to explore the wild gardens off the Western doors, and if you wish to read, there is a collection of materials on the way there. We do not encourage venturing into the wood alone, however, as that is a risk even for our strongest soldiers."

"I will not."

"Very well then. I will leave you to rest. Should you need water for a bath, ring the bell just above it and someone will attend you."

I bid him goodbye and sat down upon the highbacked chair, first staring at the bottle of wine, then pouring myself a glass.

I took a sip and sat back, releasing a long breath. At least the wine is good, I thought. And then I muttered aloud, "Uncle Celeborn, where have you sent me?"

-----

My Lothlorien guards did not remain for any feast, but rather, they left within hours of our arrival, eager to be gone from a realm not their own.

I could not blame them for it. I would have done the same thing. But now there was a matter of firming my backbone before facing the king again, and this time with many eyes and many ears to witness whatever he might say to me.

But face him I would, as I had no choice, and the sooner I grew numb to his manner, the better it would hopefully be.

I did, indeed, ring for a bath. Then I changed into a proper gown, sapphire in color, and and left my hair--which was lighter, even, than the king's--to hang naturally. I wished I had a looking glass to observe my appearance, but the room was not fitted with one, so vanity aside, I waited for someone to tell me when the feast had begun.

It was Feren, himself, who came to get me, and he was changed into finery. He was quite a handsome elf, really, though it seemed he held about him the slightest bit of his king's arrogance. Nevertheless, he had been courteous enough to me.

He led me deeper down a winding corridor, where we passed a large cellar with barrels of wine stacked upon eachother, and past kitchens, where elves prepared food.

Then the smaller cavern opened into a vast one, lit with the little orange glowing lights that dropped from the ceiling in great number.

There were long, stone tables and more highbacked chairs, and a great crowd of elves, already drinking and making merry loudly.

These elves were different in nature from those I had known in Lorien. They were more boisterous, less stoic. It struck me as odd that they should act so freely, considering the volatile nature of their king.

Feren guided me to a table just to the side of his lord, who already sat at the center of everything, sipping his wine and quietly observing the elves with a mildly amused expression.

Something about Thranduil's presence suggested that his mind was not fully engaged, but rather, partly off somewhere, or sometime, else. I was familiar with the look, for it was a lesser version of the same one my Aunt Galadriel wore.

I supposed this was a testament to his age, but then, I had heard whispering of his eccentricity. So perhaps it was simply him.

Nevertheless, when he noticed my arrival, and as soon as Feren had seen me to a seat, the king stood, and lifted a bottle of wine and a goblet.

"Elves of Mirkwood," he began, pouring a full cup and passing it to me, "I bid you welcome our honored company. Lady Laewyn is a Healer from the kingdom of Lothlorien. Her Uncle, Lord Celeborn, has sent her to aid us, and perhaps teach us a few things, as well. Let us welcome her with gratitude," he said, raising his cup. He spoke in a tone that was almost respectful. Still, I would have sworn it carried with it a backhanded edge.

It is possible I'd only detected it because of our first interaction, and likely the other elves would not, but, despite my determined smile, I was on my guard. After all, he knew of his earlier rudeness, and he knew that I knew of it. Did he believe me a fool with no immediate memory?

And why was he being civil now? An act to impress his people? Upon first impression, he did not seem the type to care about impressing anyone.

I disliked the falseness and uncertainty of it all. Nothing felt less appealing to me than a dualing character. Nothing was less attractive.

And yet...his face was magnificent. Distractingly so. Whether it be the fullness of his lips or the bright silver-blue of his eyes, the king was as handsome an elf as I had ever before laid eyes upon.

I supposed that was how he managed to charm anyone into staying in the Woodland Realm.

"Lady Laewyn, would you care to say anything to my elves?" asked King Thranduil, and again, his way was courteous, yet somehow... not.

"Yes. I would only wish to say thank you for such a warm gathering, and it will be my honor to lend help where it is needed. I have heard great things about the skilled fighters of Mirkwood."

"Indeed," said King Thranduil, the hint of a smile upon his face.

"My Lady," said a red-haired elf seated near to me. "You were in Lothlorien when the orcs attacked at the outer keep."

"Yes. 300 years ago?"

"That's right. My uncle was in that battle. He'd been visiting Lothlorien at the time. He stayed to fight."

"Oh, and how fares he now?"

"He is dead, My Lady."

I heard the king clear his throat. "He died of his battle wounds?" King Thranduil said, the meaning behind his words obvious to me. You clearly did not save him.

My heart fell.

"He did, My Lord, but not in Lorien," answered the elf. "Indeed, I mention this because I believe you saved his life, My Lady. For when he returned he had spoken again and again of the Lorien healer more beautiful than starlight. You made quite an impression upon him."

"Oh," I started with a rush of relief. "Oh, I am honored. But, however did he die?"

"At the swamps surrounding Mordor some years later. If only you'd been there to help him, I've no doubt he would still be with us."

"And I wish that I had," I said, sadly. For indeed, I wanted more than anything to heal every Elven soldier who would risk their own immortality for the protection of others.

After this, the King said very little, only watched as I interacted with his people, and I realized that most every one was a fighter, for truly, they were so constantly surrounded by danger that to fight was as inevitable as breathing.

I wondered why they would stay in such a place, what kind of loyalty could bond them to lands that were becoming overrun by evil.

But then, I thought about Lothlorien, and of how I might feel if my beautiful kingdom of light were threatened as Mirkwood was, and I knew in my heart that I would remain and fight with them, to the last elf, to try and rescue that beloved place.

The elves of the Woodland Realm were not so different from me, only that relentless threat had made them more fierce and protective.

After the meal began to slow, and more than a few elves left their tables intoxicated from very strong Elven wine, King Thranduil turned and addressed me alone in conversation.

"Would you walk with me? I'd like to speak with you in confidence, if I may."

"Certainly, My Lord."

I took a breath or two to find my courage and stood up.

King Thranduil gestured out of the large cavern and into one of several similar hallways.

He kept pace with me as we left the waining feast behind.

"My people trust you," he spoke as we went along.

"I am happy to have it."

"But do you deserve it?" He stopped and looked at me. "Of that I am uncertain."

"I understand your caution, My Lord, but you unfairly assume I cannot be trusted before giving me an opportunity to show--"

"And why would I trust an elf delivered me under false pretenses?"

This stopped me. "What do you mean?"

"Your uncle assured me they would send a seasoned elf...an elder, if possible."

"An elder? We have so few elder healers. I do not understand why he... there had to be a misaprehension."

"I assure you there is not."

"But why would my uncle ever lead you to believe I was older than I am? He stands nothing to gain from it."

"I was hoping you might tell me."

"Well, for the life of me, Your Grace," I began, furrowing my brows in thought. "I know not. Only that he had faith in me and knows my abilities. But, beyond that I do not comprehend it myself. I am sorry."

No wonder he had been so surpringly unpleasant upon our first meeting. He felt he had been deceived.

"I will say this, Lady Laewyn, that my soldiers appear to like you. And for that reason I shall give you a chance to prove your value here. But I warn you now...do not let them down. For war is coming to my realm, I can feel it, and my people have, all of them, lost enough. I would have a Healer who will change that. If you cannot, then you are merely a short-lived visitor to my kingdom."

I did not respond at first, and did not know how. Yes, he was rude and sharp-tongued, but at the same time I could grasp his feelings about his people. And I was not all too happy with my wise Uncle Celeborn at the present.

"I understand," I said finally.

"No, you do not. But as you have come all this way, and appear to have no real knowledge of Celeborn's motivations, we will, as you said, make the best of it. You will have one opportunity to prove yourself. That is all I give."

"Yes, Lord Thranduil."

"Good. Then I shall leave you for the night." He offered an Elven gesture of goodbye, then headed down the dark hallway.

"And my Lord..."

He turned only his head in response.

"You underestimate me," I said. "Greatly."

He raised a brow. "I hope you are right. Goodnight, Lady Laewyn."

"Goodnight."