Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

10. Fire and Ice

"I shall not try to persuade you to stay, Ada."

"I know." My father touches the unfolded map of the Grey Havens on his lap, his fingertip tracing the river Lhûn until it meets the Gulf. The candle casts a yellow light on the already yellowed parchment. "But I sense you are not ready."

I shift in my chair. My eyes dart from his to the stacks of folded maps on his cherry-oak bookshelf. There are maps of Dwarven halls, of the Shire where the Halflings dwell, of the hidden city of Gondolin, and of the forest realm of Doriath, all of them as reliable as my father's intuition.

"If you wait for the day when I look forward to your journey over the Sea, you will wait too long. It is a matter of wishing you to stay, not needing."

"You do not need me anymore, iell nín?" His tone is teasing.

"Always. But I am capable without you. No longer am I an elfling in need of your counsel with every step."

"It is not that I believe you incapable." He begins to refold the map. "But too stubborn to see what afflicts you."

"I was not aware I had an affliction?"

"Loneliness, Rîneth."

I give a tight smile. "I know you are hinting at marriage again, Ada. I see through your words."

"I see through your façade."

I stand, the sudden twist in my chest too unpleasant for sitting still. His delivery was gentle, but his words were dull blades, cutting deep to expose something which feels uncomfortable. Something which wishes to stay buried.

Walking to the hearth ledge and back, I stop behind my chair and rest my hands on the soft upholstery. It is surely his unfounded assumption causing me to feel exposed. When will he accept I do not require marriage for happiness?

"You are wrong for once," I say, my words measured. "I assure you I am far from lonely, Ada. I have friends to keep me company once you leave."

"I have oft witnessed through my years the ones who seem the least lonely are, in truth, the loneliest."

"That is not always so."

"No." He softly taps the folded map on his knee. "But I see a distant look in your eyes when you believe no one is watching."

"I am in my head often. What do Men call it...daydreaming?"

I remember my friendship with a farmer's wife, a mortal woman, who spoke of daydreaming. She often forgot her daily chores, and at times forgot supper. Her husband would come home after a long day in the fields anticipating a warm stew and end up with a bowl of leftover porridge instead. Mattie laughed and laughed when recalling such evenings, but I had doubted her husband found it as humorous.

"Yes, daydreaming," I emphasize. "I envision places I have never been and things I have never done. I do not think my loneliness is what really concerns you. It is my protection."

"Rîneth--"

"If Thranduil cannot offer me sufficient protection, who can? Certainly not a noble's son."

The loud knock is a welcome interruption. I give him a softened glance before walking to the door. Disagreements between us are few, but when the topic of my well-being arises, he is relentless in voicing his concerns. I only hope our visitor's presence will pour water on the growing flames.

"Punctual as ever, my lord."

Thranduil bows his head to us both. "Rîneth. Gailon. How do you fare?"

"We were discussing my future journey over the Sea," says Ada after standing. "But perhaps a change in subject matter will lighten the mood."