Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

11. A Spring Storm

The gentle rumble from an approaching storm can be heard from Thranduil's balcony, the dark forest waiting in still anticipation. I stand at the edge of the jutted rock, my hands loosely gripping the railing, as Ada drones on about the strife and decline of the city of Gondor.

I have contributed little, my thoughts tossing like a ship on the waves of a turbulent sea. I yearn to be elsewhere, under the golden mallorn trees of Lórien, or with Faeleth in Imladris fair. Perhaps I could be like Caewen, not returning to my homeland for a span of many years. Ada would finally depart, reassured that if I shall not marry, at least my sister will see to my needs.

A warm wind blows from the east, carrying the smell of damp earth. The storm travels at a slow pace, but it will be upon us soon.

In Imladris I could start anew. Keeping to myself and my quill, I would veer far from the affairs of others...

It is a bitter sting, but Thranduil spoke true. I foolishly led Gwendes to believe Elros could love her. If only I had listened to the small, unobtrusive voice of my conscience from the beginning, its warning clear.

My mistake has been made, its consequences already in motion. But if I speak to Gwendes, perhaps I can lessen their severity. Can my friend be swayed to open her eyes to Elros' prejudice? It feels imperative to try.

"I do not recall when I last observed you so distracted."

The closeness of Thranduil's voice startles me. I turn to face him and realize we are alone. Somewhere during the journey across the waves of my thoughts, my father took his leave.

"Gailon said you were...daydreaming."

I remember my use of the creative word earlier; Ada obviously remembered as well. Our disagreement before Thranduil's arrival feels insignificant now.

"I was thinking of my sister. I have not seen her in far too long."

"Since her wedding," he says. "Does she still write often?"

"As often as possible while rearing a child. She tells me he has a head of brown curls, like mine." I return my gaze to the dark landscape and the starless sky above it. "He is growing fast..."

"You plan to visit them soon."

"I am considering it."

The storm wind returns, causing my hair to lash my cheeks. After mulling over his heated confrontation from earlier, his words echoing in my ears, I cannot muster the courage to meet his eyes. It would be too revealing; he would see how easily he wounded me.

"Rîneth, look at me."

I hold my gaze over the forest canopy, resolved not to give in to another of his demands. The rumble of thunder is louder now, angrier, signaling it is time to retire. I open my mouth to bid him good night, but his hand grasps my chin and gently turns my face to meet his.

Our eyes touch briefly before I look away. "My lord?"

"I know you oft desire to visit your sister and nephew, but I sense your longing tonight is caused by another reason. I do not like...us to be at odds."

"It has been a long evening..."

"What I said to you was undeserved."

I dare to look at him then, his usual stony features transformed with unguarded softness. Silver-blond strands of hair fly across his face in a sudden gust, landing tangled and out of place when the wind lessens. In need of a comb, he has lost his intimidating presence entirely.

"I have not forgotten the pain you suffered," he says.

My eyes begin to smart, but I blame it on the cutting wind. "It was long ago. It is true...I am no expert in matters of love."