Song for This Chapter

I will admit to being bored.

When you cannot venture even into the woods alone, and your kingdom's palace is a grand series of caverns in the ground, one begins to feel a bit stifled.

I had taken to frequent visits to the gardens on the west end of the palace. Here, the corridors rose upward again and led out of doors, through grand stone columns and a vast courtyard full of statues and carvings made of wood. Upon some, vines and greenery grew, as if meant to decorate them.

The gardens were backed to the Mirkwoods, but there was no path leading through them here. I imagined a back way of entry for possible enemy attack would be a very undesirable thing, and so they had left it as inaccessible to outsiders as was possible, thick, dense as can be, and nearly impenetrable without great effort and notice.

But, before the woods began, there lay a large series of grounds, all with a particular style that was rather aged and weathered. More statues were scattered throughout its many divides, and each piece was covered in a layer of moss or green residue.

Some sections were for flowers that grew wild, with long and spidered leaves that reached over their boundaries onto the path beside them. Other parts were neater, more contained. And then there were secret seeming alcoves beneath leaf and vine made arches, which led to stone benches amongst the cave of leaves. There sunlight poured through every nook and crevice, almost sparkling.

These little leafy havens were nearly my favorite part of the gardens.

But my most favorite part was the pond of fountains.

It was one large pool, though it meandered quite irregularly in shape, round a few corners and up to the woods themselves, and small trees and plants grew from its stoney center.

I would sit upon its edge and place my fingers in the water, for water was most dear to me, and consider how unhelpful I felt.

I knew that a lack of need for healing was a good thing, but I would have gladly helped in other ways, had they let me. But every time I had asked, Feren would tell me that I ought to enjoy the quiet and solitude while I could before encountering its opposite.

The king kept to himself, for the most part, though I was not certain how he spent his time.

Once or twice I saw him passing down one corridor into another, or emerging from the courtyard alone, almost as a ghost. But besides these times, it had been a few weeks with very little contact between us.

In the evenings I had taken to reading, but I was quickly running out of texts, and so I ventured down the dark corridors by myself, around to the Western end of the palace, and then back upwards to the library.

I had come here at night before, but tonight, I stood contemplating which collection of Elven poetry to read, some love sonnets featuring a Minstrel of Imladris, or some Tales of Great Kings by an Elven historian named Feldir of the Grey Havens.

Both sounded ìnteresting, but I had been reading nightly for hours upon hours, and eventually I decided perhaps I might visit the gardens, instead, as they were just down the corridor and out the Western door, and I was certain they would be lit somehow.

So there I went, past the statues in the courtyard, past the little leafy caves, which were now lit from the inside by the glow of orange light and not quite so appealing to me as the sunshine.

I wished to know if the great pond was lit as well, for I thought this might be a wonderful sight to see, and so I headed for the water.

There were no other elves around, which surprised me, and I wondered if, like mortals, the Mirkwood elves preferred resting away in their dwellings during the wee hours.

As I neared the pond, the sounds of trickling fountains soothed the night silence, and I smiled. I was growing quite fond of this part of the palace.

I was correct in believing the pond would be alight. Little dewdrop glows poked from the island of green at its center and cast orange ripples upon the surface of the water.

I dipped a few fingers in, as was my way, then walked along its winding perimeter with my hand still draped over the edge.

Rounding a corner, I stopped entirely, my breath caught in my throat.

The king was bathing.

There he knelt, his torso bare above the dark water, and his hair, slick and wet and slightly darkened with moisture, laid straight against his back.

I know that I should not have looked even an instant longer than it took me to realize what I was seeing, but he was...so...so...

Before I could react, he paused the pouring of water over his shoulders and arms, as if sensing something, and then he turned and looked directly at me.

I gasped. "My Lord, I apologize!" I said, averting my gaze at once. "I...I promise you I only just got here and...and you were...I saw nothing! Forgive me! I will leave you in peace."

There came a low chuckling and then, "If you can see nothing, then why do you avert your eyes?"

"Ah...out of respect for your privacy, My Lord," I said, my gaze still elsewhere, my face burning.

There came a sound of rippling water, then dripping, and in a moment, the king stood before me in a robe, which was wet and clung to him. I kept my eyes trained to his face and swallowed.

"I am fully covered. You may look wherever you please now," he said.

I gaped at him. Look wherever I...oh. "Yes," I turned quickly to the pond. "Yes. Thank you. And, again, I am sorry to have encroached upon your--"

"I was finished."

"Yes. All right. And I shall avoid the pond during the night from now on, I promise you."

"That would be a shame, for it is most beautiful at night, and I do not bathe here often."

"I see. Thank you," I repeated, swallowing again and contemplating my feet.

I chanced a glance at him and his clear smirk at my discomfort made me wish to either throttle him or dive beneath the water and drown myself.

"Well, I shall leave you here to study carefully the tops of your feet, Lady Laewyn," he said, and I found myself lifting my eyes to give him a bit of an unamused look. At this, he smiled in no humble way, and turned deftly on his heels, walking away from me with graceful confidence.

---

"My Lady, no one dwelling in the shadows of the Woodland Realm ought go without practice."

Feren stood at the door of my chamber. He had informed me that the king wished to assess my talent with a weapon. Or lack thereof...

"I know, Feren, but I have been trained, first by my uncle, and then the Marchwarden of Lorien himself. It is not that I have never swung a sword, it is just that I have rarely swung it...eh...at anyone," I said. "To kill them. It is the aftermath that I see, which is enough to think about. I have felt so much anguish and grief, I do not know how I could withstand everyone's terror in battle, as well. I cannot imagine how your people keep from going mad."

"I fear some of us have," he said darkly. "But all the more reason to keep sharp."

"Yes, I suppose. But..."

"The king fears that war will come to us soon. We may all be forced to take up arms before the end."

His words rendered me cold. I knew that it was a dire time, but the idea of attack on the palace itself was terrifying. I had only ever tended the injured on battlefields and in woods... not, mercifully, where I dwelled.

But this was unlike any time in which I had ever lived. Others had known such times--my Aunt and Uncle, King Thranduil, but not me.

I hoped I would be strong enough should war truly ever come to Mirkwood's kingdom. That is, were I still here and not cast back to Lothlorien by a dissatisfied king.

"What would he have me do?"

"I will practice with you. I can only benefit from it myself."

"Thank you, Feren. You are most helpful. Though I am sorry to create more work for you."

"Believe me, My Lady, or is a welcome diversion," he said flatly, and something about his words made me want to laugh. It seemed as if he were glad for a little separation from his king.

"Then it it shall be done," I said. "Whenever you'd like."

"Shall we spar tomorrow then? In the gardens, perhaps?"

"A fine place for it."

"Excellent," he said almost happily. It appeared his persistent look of annoyance was curable with a few hours of swordfighting in a garden. I was happy to offer him that.

"Feren, may I ask you a rather candid question? And of course I do not expect you to answer, unless you feel comfortable."

"Certainly."

"Well, how long have you servant to your king?"

He considered the timing and then said, "Five-hundred years, My Lady."

"That is quite some time. And you are happy, as his hand?"

At this, the merest of ironic smiles played at his lips and then disappeared. "Happy? I...am content."

"And he is kind to you?"

"Yes, he has his moments, but he has always been fair, and I have always been loyal."

"And you respect him?"

I found myself asking very personal questions of the elf, but I was immensely curious about the king, and considering Thranduil's changing moods, I wondered how Feren, seeming typically disaffected in countenance, could tolerate him so closely for so long.

"He saved my life, My Lady. And for that I not only respect him, but love him as well," said Feren.

"I see." The King was loved. He was not only feared or tolerated in his kingdom, he was loved. And people stayed. For him.

"Well, thank you for your sincerity."

He nodded, and then suddenly there came a rushing of feet down the corridor towards us both.

It was one of the Elven soldiers returned from patrolling their woods, only they had just left a few hours earlier.

He looked panicked and harried. "Please," he said to me. "You must come at once. King Thranduil requires you immediately."

"Me?"

"Yes, My Lady. It is the Captain of Our Guard. She has been gravely wounded."

"Tauriel?" Feren said, fear in his voice.

"Yes," said the soldier. "My Lady, you must come at once."

I hesitated only a second before dashing to grab my bag and following swiftly after them.

It was time for me to fulfill what I had come here to do.

And I mustn't dare fail...for all of our sakes.