The Last Elf Queen of Arda

Chapter 11 - A Thorny Reception

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Anthelísse took the offered chair at Thranduil's right and was seated. A servant quickly stepped forward to fill the silver chalice at her place with a thick red wine, the alcohol content of which she could smell even at length. The other elves seated around the long table each likewise had a full goblet, but not a single one looked light-headed in the slightest. Quite the opposite in fact; the general atmosphere in the room was grim and somber.

"I trust the accommodations are to your liking?" Thranduil asked, a hint of the eager-to-please young ellon she had known on the road shining through.

"Yes my lord, quite." Anthelísse said, picking up the wine goblet and hovering it beneath her nose. The powerful fumes nearly prompted her to set it back down, but she caught a look from Queen Nellas. It seemed that she was being watched all about the table. Steeling herself, Anthelísse took a sip with a straight face.

"The vintages of Dorwinion." A tall elf with most unusual, mismatched eyes said from two seats down. "Most visitors find it entirely too strong for their liking. What do you think, Lady Anthelísse?"

Opting to forgo breathing rather than splutter like a drowning victim, Anthelísse nodded slowly as the wine burned its way down her throat.

"Tharnor, our Master of Coin." Said Thranduil, gestured to the elf with grey and brown eyes by way of an introduction.

Finally recovering her voice, Anthelísse greeted Tharnor politely. "Well met. The Dorwinion has a heady taste to be sure, and is no doubt capable of making impressions of its own."

It was a very subtle jibe, but perhaps even a bit too much for a first meeting with the inner circles of the Woodland Realm. A few around the table chuckled, including Thranduil and Queen Nellas. Deciding not to push her luck though, Anthelísse set the goblet back down.

Thranduil went around the table and introduced his other councilors one by one. There was Daerchon, the Master of Words, responsible for managing the libraries and all ministerial documents, as well as Erchelil, the Mistress of Gardens who oversaw the care and tending of all things growing in Emyn Duir. By the time Thranduil reached Daeris, the Mistress of the Larders, Anthelísse was having to work hard to keep all names, faces and titles straight.

"So tell me, Lady Anthelísse, what shall be the fate of the Noldor in Arda now that the High King has fallen?" Tharnor asked, lifting his own goblet of Dorwinion and drinking smoothly. "I hear that King Thranduil introduced you as High Queen to the Lady Nellas." The elf lord eyed her dispassionately, a flinty edge to his smile.

Bristling slightly, Anthelísse did not return Thranduil's quick sideways glance. The young king colored, realizing that he may have miss-stepped in his desire to make a good introduction of her to his mother.

"Your king was very kind to say as much." Anthelísse replied. "However, though I may be Gil-Galad's heir in Middle-Earth, too few of our folk remain to justify my claiming the title. The majority of our folk now reside either in the Halls of Mandos or upon the shores of Valinor. Perhaps they shall choose a new king from among the Vanyar, or perhaps my brother shall retain the kingship upon his release from Mandos."

"So you lay no claim upon leadership of the Noldor then?" Queen Nellas asked, sounding slightly surprised. The Queen Mother's dark green eyes glittered slightly in the low light of the dining room, watching Anthelísse from beneath her circlet.

"No. I released my remaining people from any charge of fidelity to me after the Battle of the Last Alliance. Those who have accompanied me here did so of their own free will."