Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

2. As Clear as Varda's Sky

After supper, we leave the fiery warmth from my father's hearth and half of a honey cake to take in the night air. A long stairwell from Thranduil's rooms leads to a stone balcony offering the clearest view over the forest; it is not the first time we have gathered here to talk after a meal.

I tip my head back to gaze upwards. The stars of Varda glitter happily in the late March sky, as though oblivious to the dark and troubled Wood below. I wonder if the Valar ever consider our realm and its plight. If so, they keep their silence.

"I have had my fill of wine and conversation for the evening," my father says. "I now long for dreams of the Gardens of Lòrien. Garo dhû vaer."

"Good night, Ada."

Thranduil bids him good night as well, and he makes his way to the spiraled stairs leading back to the lower cavern keep, an empty wine goblet in his hand.

"Lately he speaks of nothing but the Undying Lands." I walk to the edge of the jutted rock, the metal railing cold under my hands. "I know he longs to be with my mother. I cannot blame him."

"Gailon has stayed in Middle-earth for far longer than would be expected for one of his great age." Thranduil joins me, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes fixed on an unknown point beyond the shadowed forest.

Our breaths make white clouds in the air. I wrap my arms around myself, hoping it is our last bitter cold spell. My decision to wear spring-weight robes was far too optimistic.

"I suppose I never shall be fully ready for him to depart."

"If not for you and your sister, he would have left long ago."

"Did he tell you this?"

Thranduil turns his face to mine. "Yes."

"Faeleth is well taken care of in Rivendell with her husband and newborn to keep her occupied. She no longer needs Ada's protection or guidance."

"Since when has Faeleth been his only daughter? Unlike your sister, you have decided to live alone and never marry."

My sigh forms another visible cloud. Still, my father doubts my capability to take care of myself without another's help. His concerns over my well-being are misplaced. But my attempts to persuade him of that have never ended well.

"I can manage fine on my own. In time he will believe it."

Thranduil's sideways glance does not appear convinced. "Yet you still need a guardian whenever you leave the safety of the caves."

"It is only when I reach the far outskirts of the village when there may be trouble." I lift my chin. "And while your son may not believe my skills with bow and sword adequate, I am quick on my feet and can out-talk any situation."

"The spiders will cling to your every word."

"They will."

My voice quavers at the edge of laughter until I can no longer contain it. His deeper laugh joins mine, and he unclasps his hands from behind his back and rests them on the railing.

I enjoy these unguarded moments, ones which betray he is flesh and blood like his subjects. A frigid wind flutters his hair, and he brushes away a few silvery strands from his eyes. He tightens his robes around himself, not unaffected by the cold.

"When my father leaves for the Grey Havens," I start, my voice turning serious, "who then shall be your advisor? He has been so for your entire reign."

"And who shall be my closest confidante? He has been both advisor and friend. If you believe I look forward to his departure, you are mistaken--"

"Then you must speak to him."

"--but I shall not be selfish, Rîneth," his voice hardens. "Would you have me keep your father from Lady Nemiril until my own departure from Middle-earth?"

The answer is as clear as Varda's sky, yet my heart does not warm to it. Ada has not only been the King's advisor but mine as well. After my mother left me far too young, I have relied on his guidance more than any other's. Now I rely on his companionship as well.

For all my talk of being capable without him, I know I would suffer from his absence until I saw him again across the Sea.

"Gailon is not my only advisor, whether I wish it or not," he says. "I have little doubt you will take over his duty fully when he is gone, even though I shall not ask for it. But perhaps you have talked sense before."

My eyes widen. "Are you calling me wise, my lord?"

"Not as wise as your father, but at times you have come close."

"Then it pleases me to know you will open your ears about the Dwarves. While I realize you still believe they are a disagreeable lot, even after Thorin-"

"But some of your advice is not logical," he interrupts, "or needed."

"Or perhaps you are prejudiced."

"I shall never understand your fascination with the Dwarves..."

"They showed me nothing but kindness in Dale, and helped the Men restore their city without requesting payment or service."

After the Battle of Five Armies and the death of Thorin Oakenshield, even Thranduil's heart changed towards them a little, though he would never admit it to me, or anyone else.

The howl of a warg echoes in the night air. The skin at the back of my neck prickles. Where there are wargs, there are also orcs.

"Do they hunt within our borders?"

"The sound is too distant. They are hunting farther south, with their masters."

His sharp eyes scan the forest, as though to make certain. But unless the orcs have surpassed their usual witlessness and built a camp fire, not even Thranduil can see them under cover of darkness.

"The evil in our lands continues to grow every night, mellon nîn."

I do not question his awareness of it. The hint of worry visible in his eyes even now speaks volumes. But will he not go out and face it? Does he fear we are not strong enough to defeat the army of Dol Guldur? I wish I understood what holds him back.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of fast-paced footsteps climbing the stairs makes him pause.

It is Legolas. He gives me a brief nod in acknowledgment, but his focus is intent on the King.

"We have a visitor, Adar."

"Who calls upon us at this late hour?"

"Mithrandir. He wishes to speak to the prisoner." Legolas's mouth is etched in a near frown. "He says he has traveled a great distance."

"The wizard always says he has traveled a great distance, and believes his presence is of utmost importance to all," Thranduil says, his voice laced with contempt. "But come, let us not keep him waiting."

He turns to leave, and Legolas falls in step behind him. His tall figure reflects the moon's light. Before descending the stairs, he casts a glance over his shoulder.

"Ollo vae, Rîneth."

"Good night."

I long to follow them, and to take part in the meeting, but it is not my place. Still, I cannot keep from wondering why Gandalf the Grey would travel to our faraway realm to question the wretched Gollum creature.

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