Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

18. The Rumor

Lady Aethel had not exaggerated. As Caewen plucks the strings of her harp, it gives forth a glittering, celestial sound, as if from the stars themselves. I am certain it rivals the music in Valinor. Judging from the rapt expressions from those listening, I am not alone in that certainty. All eyes are transfixed on the flaxen-haired elleth and her instrument. Thranduil has even put away his book.

Caewen finishes the song and begins The Sea-Crossing with hardly a pause, as though it is only a continuation. Her hands effortlessly move forward and backward with the soft melody. I look at Legolas standing beside me. There is a question niggling my mind, one I have kept too long.

With the other guests entranced, their ears tuned to the music of the Sea and Stars, there is no better time to ask.

"Why does your father give his Aur en-Onnad such little regard?"

His cobalt eyes widen in surprise. I instantly regret my boldness.

"Lord Gailon has not told you?"

"He does not share the King's secrets, even with me."

Legolas frowns, shifting his vision back to Caewen and her harp. "It is no secret, Rîneth. But many have chosen to forget. It is...the day my mother died."

I inhale a sharp breath. "Please forgive me, mellon. I truly did not--"

"You have nothing to apologize for. He does not speak of it."

The sound of a cascading waterfall floods the room as Caewen's hands fly gracefully down the strings. Lady Aethel begins to clap, though the song is far from over.

"If he would rather be alone, why does he invite us?"

"For that I have no answer," he says solemnly. "I have wondered if the presence of others helps to lessen the memory."

"I do not remember your mother well, but I remember her golden hair. And her kindness...."

"We were both young when she died. But I was younger. I...do not remember what she looked like."

The dramatic harp-song fills the silence which falls between us. Caewen is now moving her head with the music, her usual composed manner crumbling as she loses herself to emotion.

"How did she die? I have heard there was no grave..."

He makes sure his father is still sitting in his chair, far from hearing range. "She was murdered. At an orc stronghold at Mount Gundabad, south of Angmar. She was...thrown into a fire."

My heart wrenches painfully. "Goheno nín..."

His unsettling answer only conjures more questions. Why was the Queen at Mount Gundabad? Had she been captured? Where was Thranduil? Noticing Legolas's tightened jaw and the way his brows pull together, for a fleeting moment not a warrior prince but a boy who has lost his mother, I know the wound pains him still.

I wish I had not asked. I certainly cannot ask more.

I chance looking at Thranduil. His eyes meet mine. He has been watching us. Has he discerned from Legolas' expression the intimate topic of our discussion? I return my gaze to Caewen, hoping it was a coincidence.

Though the Greenwood is my home, every oak and beech around the village and cave known to me, there is much about the forest I do not know, many secrets I have yet to discover. Thranduil is like his forest. A mystery, vast and remote. I once believed I knew everything about him. I was wrong.

After a final crescendo, Caewen ends her song with a barely audible pluck, leaving the guests breathless before they break into applause. Lord Amdiron nods his head with his claps, offering an impressed smile before remembering he is made of stone. Ferdir looks like he would rather be anywhere else. Remembering his unenthusiastic responses about Caewen the night of his arrival, I wonder again at his behavior.