The Last Elf Queen of Arda

Chapter 15 - Woodland Spirit

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Hooves only touching down for an instant amid the fallen leaves between bounds, a stag darted through the forest. The autumn sunlight cast its coat in a reddish glow, the better for the hunters to sight him as they pursued. This chase had been ongoing now since midday; the clever deer knew the paths of its woodland home well. The elves of the realm were unparalleled in the woodcraft art of tracking though, and even the stag knew that this hunt was fast drawing to a close. In the end its life would be given to nourish others, as the circle of life has played out since the dawning of the world.

Aware that the stag was tiring, Gurithon ran easily along the lower limbs of the trees overhead. This was the time-honoured method of hunting with a royal party; scouts would follow their quarry through the trees. When the time was right they would drop down in front of the weary creature, turning it back toward the waiting bows of those who went mounted behind. It was always ensured that the kill was clean and swift; one true-shot arrow.

When he was the prince, Thranduil would have gone ahead with Gurithon and the other Silvan elves. More than once he remembered even darting out from the trees to touch the flank of a stag as it ran past. Now he rode at the head of the party on horseback, following the hunt along narrow game trails. With him were a number of Sindarin nobles, as well as Anthelísse and a few of her followers.

Anthelísse had been in Emyn Duir for near three months now. The fledging courtship between the Lady of the Noldor and the King of the Woodland Realm was by far the worst-kept secret in the forest. The two were seen in company with one another nearly as often as they were seen individually. There seemed to be subtle signs as well that Lady Anthelísse had no intention of departing any time soon. Gil-Galad's sister had recently taken up learning the Silvan language, much to the approval of the native population of the Greenwood. She even wore a gown and cloak in shades of green and brown today, although it was more for the practicality of a hunt than making political statements.

Ducking a low-hanging branch easily, Anthelísse let her horse have its head to follow the thin track. The forest floor was uneven and treacherous going in some places, but animals born and bred to the Greenwood could navigate it well enough without help. Still, it was not ideal for keeping on the tail of so lithe a creature as a stag.

A rustle of leaves overhead brought Thranduil's head snapping up. The elf who danced along the branch was so nimble that Thranduil needed only to slow his horse's pace slightly to speak with her.

"How far ahead, Baraniel?"

The scout's dark braided hair whipped as she leapt over a gap between trees. "Not far Aran-nin, the stag passed this way not one minute ago." She gestured through the autumnal forest. "I've never seen one so large, nor so strong. He runs now with as much endurance as he did several hours ago."

"A worthy challenge for the supper table, my lord." The servant at Thranduil's side piped up. Galion was young, nearly as young as the king himself. His earnest good nature made him a popular aide with Thranduil.

"Perhaps the stag may yet triumph over the Mabon feast." Anthelísse suggested, smiling in amusement at the thought. According to Queen Nellas it was tradition to always serve roast venison hunted by the king himself at the harvest celebration each fall. Although she sympathized with Thranduil's unspoken wish to prove himself by succeeding in his first hunt as king, Anthelísse also had more than a little empathy for the stag.

"It would not be the first or the last time." Nellas commented, drawing a curious look from Anthelísse. When even Thranduil glanced back over his shoulder despite himself, she elaborated. "Oropher once attempted to hunt one of the elusive silver deer from the deepest reaches of the forest. We dined on roast boar that year."

Comfortable, even casual references to Thranduil's father were slowly becoming easier for the members of the royal household. The tapestry that Anthelísse had woven now hung in a place of honour in the Great Lower Hall. When Nellas had seen it, she had begun warming to the Noldo elf as never before. She and Anthelísse now enjoyed an occasional walk together in the mountainside gardens of Emyn Duir. Anthelísse got the sense that Nellas even understood her experiences as a stranger in a strange land. After all, she and Oropher had likely been in much the same position when first they arrived in the Woodland Realm from Doriath.

With Thranduil looking visibly less anxious after the admission from Nellas of Oropher's unsuccessful hunt, they rode on following the scout's lead. Their sharp elven ears could very nearly hear the hoof beats of the stag. Hands began to tighten on bows and wander toward quivers; it would be very soon now. Anthelísse kept the small kit she had prepared before leaving close at hand. Hunting could be a dangerous endeavour. It was more so for humans who lacked a deeper understanding of the natural world, but even elves could suffer from wounds received at the end of a rack of antlers.

A sharp whistle cut the air from ahead, ringing and magnifying as it bounced along the tree trunks. This was the signal from Gurithon and the others; the stag had turned and was running toward them. There came a thundering through the underbrush nearly as loud as if an entire herd was bearing their direction. Thranduil fitted an arrow to his bow in one swift motion, and Anthelísse's sharp eye caught the calming intake of breath he drew. She likewise reined up her horse slightly to the side of the path, both for safety and to provide a narrowing barrier toward the hunters.

When the stag did come bounding forth onto the path, even Nellas gasped aloud. It was the largest forest animal any of them had ever seen. With an antler rack nearly as wide as two elves laid head to toe, this male could have battled a mountain bear and possibly won. Thranduil hesitated, his bow up and drawn but the arrow still notched.

The stag stood perfectly still on the path, its tall breast heaving and its flanks slick with sweat. Anthelísse thought she had never beheld such a magnificent display of wild beauty. This was a beast that would have run in the company of Oromë, Huntsman of the Valar in olden days of Arda. Even its eyes, still and deep as black pools rested with a preternatural intelligence on the young king.

"Aran-nin, will you not take the shot?" whispered Baraniel, the scout who had reported on the stag's movements earlier. She and the other elven scouts perched unmoving all around in the trees.

Anthelísse slowly met Thranduil's eyes. His bow was still drawn, but she could see in his expression the same reticence to kill such an awe-inspiring creature that she felt. The elves never hunted what they did not intend to use in the fullest, there was no waste to their harvests. Even so, there was something eldritch about this stag that defied any desire to follow through on tradition.

Even in the face of disbelieving stares from some of the others, Thranduil relaxed his bowstring and lowered the arrow. The stag remained staring at him for a moment longer, then turned and disappeared away into the forest. Its russet coat flickered in the lowering sunlight before being swallowed by the shadows.

"You let him go, my lord?" Even Galion sounded somewhat disbelieving.

Thranduil nodded, still watching the place where the stag had vanished. "His life is not mine to take." He said softly but with conviction. "I felt I met a wiser spirit, and owed it due respect."

While the others muttered amongst themselves about the failed hunt, Anthelísse sidled her horse up alongside Thranduil's.

"It takes wisdom to recognize wisdom, meleth-nin." She whispered to him.

Whether it was Anthelísse's words of praise or her first use of the Sindarin words for 'my beloved', Thranduil seemed utterly at peace with his decision the entire rest of the way back to Emyn Duir. When a roast boar was served later that week at the Mabon feast, no one enjoyed each mouthful near so much as the king.

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