OoOoO

Two weeks passes in the breadth of a heartbeat when you have eternity to live, and by and by the eve of Thranduil's coronation was upon Emyn Duir. Although officially still in mourning, the elven city had a tangible air of anticipation hanging over it even by sunrise on the morn. The formal proceedings would be held in the Great Lower Hall of the palace, followed by a feast organized to perfection by Maechenel, the Master of Ceremonies. For days previous the kitchens had been working overtime to prepare the extensive menu, and Maechenel himself had been overseeing the outfitting of the hall in banners of green and gold.

Anthelísse had been busy as well over the past few days. When not enjoying stolen moments with Thranduil, she devoted much of her time to the gift she planned to give the king on behalf of the Noldor. Aislinn and Iminyë had both been recruited as well, and many a night saw the elven lady and her handmaidens working by candlelight and starlight. A healer Anthelísse may first and foremost have been, but she liked to pretend that the popular Noldo talent for weaving was also within her nimble fingers.

As the sun began to set over the Black Mountains, elves started to gather throughout the city and make their way toward the square and the palace beyond. They came in all their finery, both those of rank and those of common heritage, Silvan and Sindarin alike. The great bronze doors were opened wide to welcome all the Greenwood folk. Within the halls the murmur of voices came to rise and grow like the murmur of a gilded beehive.

The gift had been finished with not a moment to spare, and Aislinn had fairly dashed around the room in the mad rush to see Anthelísse prepared for the coronation. For once Anthelísse did not interrupt her handmaiden at every turn, but submitted cooperatively to all the tugging, brushing and primping that Aislinn could muster. By the time everyone was satisfied, there was barely time for Aislinn to dress herself while Anthelísse rolled the gift and tied it with a satin ribbon.

There was a near-steady stream of elves crossing the fountain courtyard and entering the palace by the time Anthelísse and her entourage stepped out of the guest quarters. Only too happy to join the masses inconspicuously, Anthelísse led the other Noldo elves around the side of the courtyard. From beyond the great threshold there was a spilling of golden light and the music of harps. Subdued though the crowd might be, there was still a definite aura of excitement tingeing the voices and face of all. It was infectious, and Anthelísse found herself drawing in a breath as they stepped under the vaulted palace ceilings.

The Lady of the Noldor did not remain inconspicuous for long. A servant threaded his way expertly through the growing crowd in the entrance hall and bowed before her.

"Lady Anthelísse, my lord Thranduil invites you to join his mother the queen and the other nobles at the front of the Great Hall."

Anthelísse had been expecting something of the sort, but still couldn't help but feel a tiny thrill of anticipation. Such a public placing of her among the inner circles of the Woodland Realm would almost certainly set tongues to wagging. That was, assuming that they weren't already. Although she and Thranduil had not been able to find many opportunities beyond that first walk to wander the city together, no doubt it was no secret that they spent much time in one another's company.

"May I bring one of my attendants?" Anthelísse asked, feeling like she could be generous with Aislinn given how hard she had been working alongside her on Thranduil's gift. There had even been a brief respite from the other elleth's teasing as of late.

"If your ladyship so desires."

With a nod to Aislinn, Anthelísse followed as the servant guided them to a side door in the entrance hall. The other eleven Noldo whom had accompanied her were left to mingle as they pleased.

Anthelísse was shown by an auxiliary passage to the very front of the Great Hall, where a number of carven benches had been set aside from the many other rows. There Anthelísse was not exactly pleased to find a number of councillors from the state dinner, without Thranduil or Queen Nellas. Daeris, the Mistress of Larders at least gave her a polite nod before turning back to conversing with her husband. Tharnor was also there, and the Master of Coin greeted Anthelísse with a bow and a smile that did not reach his mismatched eyes.

"Lady Anthelísse, so good to see you have come to join us. We were beginning to be concerned that the servants would not find you before the ceremony started."

Anthelísse was ready for this. Summoning up a charming smile, she replied; "Not to worry, Lord Tharnor. I would not miss Thranduil's coronation for all the jewels in the Blessed Realm."

Tharnor gestured around the hall. "Nor would any; it seems that Maechenel has outdone himself in preparation for this evening. Are the Noldo traditions regarding royal ascension very different from those of the Sindar?"

It was a jab, and a well placed one at that. Anyone who followed the movements of the Noldor would know that Gil-Galad had not been crowned with great ceremony in a palace but informally upon the Isle of Balar after the fall of Nargothrond and then Gondolin. With their father and sister recently slain, the small proceeding led by Cirdan had been the most that the bereaved siblings could endure at the time.

Aislinn was bristling at her shoulder, and Anthelísse moved quickly to shut this viper-tongued councillor down. "Not so very different, although as with all things they have their time and place."

Parried but not foiled, Tharnor was forced to desist when the tone of the musicians changed. All throughout the Great Hall elves ceased their conversations and took their seats along the ornately carved benches. Torchlight flickered and made the banners' golden borders gleam. The statues of elks and elves in the corners looked almost lifelike in the dancing glow.

At the head of the hall, the queen entered under an archway to the side. Aislinn had gotten Anthelísse into a gown of dark violet velvet and crowned her with a diamond diadem, but even so there was no doubt that Queen Nellas was the most regal lady present. She wore a long trailing black dress and veil to mark her mourning, but that did little to detract from the elegant carriage of Oropher's widow. Nellas walked along the front of the rows to stand at the central of the three aisles. There she stood for a long moment, regarding the Woodland people. The minstrels silenced their harps and flutes, and all awaited the word of the queen.

"People of the Greenwood." Nellas began, speaking in a ringing voice that carried easily throughout the entire hall. "Tonight, we gather to not only crown a king, but to reaffirm the birth of a new era in our realm. Much has been lost, but much will be born anew and grow all the stronger in the days and years to come. Let us do honor to the memory of those brave fallen by making theirs a legacy of peace and prosperity. Just as the summer must die to herald the coming of winter snows, so too does the dark of the year give way to springtide blossoms. Come, arise and bear witness to our new lord and liege. I give you my son, Thranduil Oropherion."

Nellas extended her arm to the back of the hall, and all turned to see the lone elf that now stood at the beginning of the center aisle.

Thranduil was resplendent in all the elegance and finery of elves both Sindarin and Silvan. He wore long robes of silvery silk, a cloak of wine red pinned at his shoulders with sprigs of oak and holly. No circlet graced Thranduil's brow; the crown of the Woodland Realm awaited that honor on a pedestal atop the dias. Likewise the adamantine rod of the king now lay atop Nellas's palms, polished and ready to fit the hands of a new ruler.

A minstrel began to sing unseen in the Sindarin tongue, a strong and unfaltering melody that resounded as Thranduil began his long walk down the aisle. Heads turned slowly from all sides as he passed, following the footsteps of the prince. In but a few moments, Thranduil would cease to be the prince and become the officially recognized King of the Woodland Realm. If he was nervous he showed no sign, but kept his eyes straight ahead on his mother as he approached.

All throughout the ceremony Anthelísse watched Thranduil with near unwavering intentness. Even Aislinn's occasional whispers in her ear did not shake her focus. This was an enormous moment for Thranduil, for Queen Nellas and for the people of Emyn Duir. With every passing hour here Anthelísse felt herself pulled further and further from the call of the Havens. This day only confirmed what the Lady of the Noldor had come to suspect; the Blessed Realm would just have to await her arrival for some time yet. Inexplicably her destiny had become intertwined with this young Sindarin king.

When at last all present in the Great Hall raised their hands to the stars and cried out "Hail to the king!" Anthelísse was among the first to join them. She gladly stood back and gave Nellas a moment to kiss her newly-crowned son before approaching Thranduil on the throne.

"Your Grace." She demurred, sinking to a knee before him. 'High Queen' of the Noldor she may be, but to her mind the gesture was more than appropriate.

"My lady." Thranduil smiled at her, eyes bright despite the weight of his father's crown upon him. Leaning forward, he spoke to her in a voice that only she could hear. "I will find you later this evening, as soon as the formal proceedings of the feast are over. Else-wise I am liable to most grievously offend Maechenel. Forgive me for not being able to join you until then?

"Granted." Anthelísse replied with a smile in return. "It would not do to upset your councilors so early in your reign, my lord. Until then, I await you when you are free to be just Thranduil, and I just Anthelísse."

That was all the words they had time to exchange; already there was a long line of lords and ladies waiting to address their new king. In the meantime, Anthelísse herself had more than a few conversations to field. The initial wariness over the presence of Noldo elves in their city appeared to have worn off, and many wished to speak with her regarding her impressions of Emyn Duir.

More than once throughout the hour to follow though, the King of the Woodland Realm and the Lady of the Noldor could be seen sending one another covert glances and smiles. Sharp eyes marked these exchanges, eyes both approving and disapproving. Two weeks it had been since Gil-Galad's sister had arrived in the city, and two weeks came not even close to winning over some of the more wary among the forest people.

OoOoO