Happy Birthday to Nilmandra! Here’s to many more.

Thanks to Daw the minstrel for beta-reading this story. Any remaining mistakes are mine, but if you find any, email me privately, and I’ll blame her. Just kidding. Thanks, Daw.                     

                           Map of Tree

For a long time I thought pain so real a place, I could mark it on a map. Valleys, peaks and plateaus came and went with the same sureness as the mountains and meadows of the Greenwood’s forest. I can not recall the exact moment I became a subject to my own hurtlands, but I found no matter where I roamed, I carried with me this scarred landscape.

To recall a life undamaged, I needed to pick through dust-laden memories buried in another age. The few I tried to reconstruct flickered like distant stars struggling to blaze from beneath a stretched storm cloud. Their light could not hold against the darkness. Cut off from happier days, I forgot joy, resigned to live within the borders of my own my barren land.

I thought I hid well the gloom of my private country. Under the scrutiny of friends and family, I succeeded, if for no other reason than they allowed me the dignity of choosing my own place. Only one elf denied me that indulgence.

A few days before two-thirds of the Woodland Realm’s troops met their doom at Dagorlad, I joined King Oropher in his tent for his nightly council gathering. For me to be present held no special significance. Before Oropher took up the throne, we shared a friendship as close as brothers, brothers who still occasionally bickered, but never did we forsake the other. Once he became my king, the friendship remained. However, from the moment he ascended the throne, I knelt, without hesitation, in fealty to my brother-king. For many years, I listened as he ruminated over personal and public concerns and discussed with him strategies and plans. On some mornings, after long deliberations into the pre-dawn hours, I summoned his commanders to hear his orders before the first blow of a battle fell. My official duty centered on the king’s safety. I appointed and governed the king’s guard, but I, and I alone, fought at his back.

The illusion of control I harbored over his safety seduced me into believing I could ward off harm. It gave me courage and confidence, but it counted little in battle. Every warrior knows security on the battlefield exists only in the hopes and dreams of the loved ones left behind. Those of us who drew our swords and nocked our arrows did so knowing each blow we made against the enemy might well be our last. With all my conviction, I vowed no one would harm Oropher without going through me. If he fell, so would I… if the strength of my will could make it so.

On this night when he released his advisors to seek their rest, his son lingered behind to speak to his father. I made to excuse myself should Thranduil wish a private moment, but Oropher shook his head. He and Thranduil spoke for only a short time about family. I wondered if Thranduil censored what he planned to discuss because of my presence, but if he did, he showed no sign of being held back.

When at last Thranduil bade his father a good rest and took his leave, Oropher retrieved a skin of wine from his packs. Wine did not rank among the necessities of war, but a skin here and there often found its way into the corner of someone’s belongings. It did not surprise me to find Oropher had secreted away a skin or two, but I did wonder why he found this night an occasion to bring one out.

He poured the blood-red drink into two dented cups, put one in my hand, then sat facing me. I waited for him to take the first sip, but he balanced the cup on his knee while boring his eyes into mine.

I fidgeted to find ease on the plank chair, but found each spot I tried as hard as the others. I gave up. “Does something bother you, my lord?”

Not a muscle moved. He continued to watch me as if I were a book in need of an interpreter. 

Finally, he lifted the cup to his lips and took a long drink. I took a sip as well and allowed the taste to loll about my tongue. It was a fine vintage, one that should have been saved for an occasional worthy of its years.

He swirled the wine about the battered cup, watching it dance to his hand’s sway. “Much bothers me, but I wish to address only one concern at this moment.”

“That would be?”

He put the cup to his lips, but before he tilted the wine into his mouth, he spoke over its rim. “You. You are spending far too much energy and time gazing at your navel.”

“What?” I knew his meaning. Over the many years I had known Oropher, he had become adept at seeing through the smile I had trained myself to wear. The melancholy I thought secure behind my borders was never beyond his skill to detect.

Oropher never played games when he had something to say. He ignored my feigned ignorance. “War is the same no matter who the enemy. The smell of blood and death rides the air. Battle cries and the moans of a body mortally wounded never cease to disturb our dreams. The taste of smoke and metal seasons every field. Even when a fight to the death consumes our attention, our mind takes note. Afterwards, we remember.”

I turned my face from him and stared at the low flame of the fire. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yet, you remember.”

My head snapped back toward him. “Of course, I remember. I will never forget, but that does not mean I am gazing upon my navel, lost in every detail.”

Oropher sighed as if the weight of my sadness rested on his shoulders. “You do not need those details, old friend. If there is any good to be said of such deep hurt, it protects us from the horrible specifics that should be buried, the ones that pierce our hearts. Unfortunately, it also holds at bay the good memories because they remind us of loss, but they should bring us comfort. I would know.”

He would. His beloved wife fell victim to a stray band of orcs pressing northward into his realm. Vengeance burned in his heart. I knew this. It did in mine as well, but I lacked his ability to separate pain from duty. My duty formed the desolate geography I had lived in since I first took up arms in defense of the Greenwood. While I patrolled the southern limits of our safety, my parents and my betrothed were being hacked to death by Sauron’s creations. To the south, when my patrol met another group of foul creatures, I saw my younger brother’s throat cut. At the end of that day, one day of the many I had lived and would yet live, I was alone. Only one cousin who lived further north would I have to call family.

I drew a shaky breath. “I can not help but remember. The memories blacken my heart and mind. I can not separate them into good or bad.”

“It does not dishonor your loved ones if you allow yourself to find comfort.” Oropher looked down on the gold band encircling his finger. “It does not take away the pain, but allowing yourself to live fully does them credit.”

“I live.”

“Somewhere else most of the time. Your body occupies space, but your mind drifts upon dark waters where no light ever touches its surface.”

My gut clenched. “You cannot tell me, Oropher, that you do not mourn your wife, that you do not grieve your separation. You can not tell me that you have put her death behind you or that you live fully in her absence.”

His eyes dropped to the packed dirt floor, a swept square of a land where nothing thrived but death. “No, I can not tell you any of those things. I wake every morning to an empty bed and I go to sleep every night remembering the sound of her breathing, the smell her skin and hair, and the feel of her cheek nestled against my arm. But I can not dwell in a place of such darkness where I find no comfort in my memories. I can not be a father or a king if I have no control over my thoughts.”

My body jolted from my seat with the speed of an arrow set on a target. I could not sit and listen to this elf who had nearly faded after his wife’s death tell me I did not have the right to my grief.

I whirled about to face him again. “I burden no one with my sorrow. I keep it to myself.” I jabbed my finger toward him in accusation. “And I would keep it from you if you did not know me well.”

“If I did not pry?”

My hand dragged across my head with the weight of a dead limb. “I did not say that.”

“Do you know why I inject myself into your personal matters, Tree?”

I sighed. “I would like to think it is because you care, but you are misguided if you think you have anything to say that I have not already said to myself. I am aware of my burdens and I would freely set them down if I could but find a way to banish them from me.”

Oropher nodded. “It is true I care, but that is not the only reason. There is more to consider than our personal struggles.”

“Sauron,” I said in a voice that fell dull and flat with resignation.

“Yes, Sauron is a factor in my concerns. If it were not for his evil pursuits, we would not be here today. His destruction is essential for all free people to live in peace, protected from his cruelty. I would have no one ever know the pain you, I, and many others share by way of his handiwork.”

I settled my hip against the folding desk he carried on campaigns. “But he is not all?”

Oropher twisted the cup in his fingers. “Soon we will go into a battle the likes no elf or man has seen in this age. The world tilts upon our success or our defeat. To destroy evil, we must carry light in our hearts. Right must sing from our bows and swords. As dark as my heart has become, I must set my revenge into resolve. My goal must reach beyond my own pain. The future of my people depends on this alliance. The future of all people rests on the shoulders of every warrior here.” He leaned forward to balance his elbows on his knees. “Take your revenge, Tree. Destroy as many of the enemy as your sword can take, but go out to meet them with the rightful song of creation swelling in your heart. Protect the innocent.” He sat back, tall and straight against the carved chair. “Pain can either make you blind, or it can clear your sight so that no other may suffer as you have.”

His words cut me to the quick. He was right; I had long wallowed in my own misery, but I could not yet wholly embrace the thought that those I loved died for a righteous reason. Such extremes had never been necessary. I would have defended my people without harm to my loved ones, but they had been taken, and those events consumed my heart.

My world felt small and empty. I cared about the people we fought to protect. I cared that Sauron wrought no more suffering. Still, I was not certain I could let go of my private pain. Revenge and rightful service were not the same. I wanted revenge, what else came with it simply resulted as a byproduct.

When I said nothing, Oropher lifted a brow in question. “What do you serve, Tree?”

“Should you not ask whom I serve?”

A faint smile lifted his mouth. “Perhaps it is one and the same.”

“I serve you, my king.”

“And if I do not live through this battle? What do you serve?”

“I will die at your side, sire.”

“And if you do not?”

“Then I will serve Thranduil.”

“What am I? What is Thranduil?”

Obviously, I was not giving him the answer he wanted. “You are my king. Thranduil is your heir.”

Oropher shook his head. “I am Greenwood the Great. I am Mirkwood. I am the Woodland Realm. I am the land, the people. I am a servant. To serve me, you must serve something far greater. It is more than a king, more than an ideal; it is flesh and blood, leaf and branch, stream and river. It is all that is and shall be. My duty is to protect it, nourish it and love it as I do my own body. There is no line to separate me from the realm. We are the same.”

Again he asked, “What do you serve?”

I bowed my head. “I serve the Woodland Realm by my fealty to you.”

“The good of the realm always comes first.” 

I narrowed my eyes to block all from my sight but him. “You must forgive me then, sire, if I am a bit pigheaded. You are more than a king to me. I cling to our friendship as doggedly as I would if we were blood related. If harm comes to you, then the Woodland Realm is but vapor. I have no doubt Thranduil would do well treading in your footsteps, but my life would dwindle like a dying vine. I will have no further reason to continue.”

Oropher’s face softened as if my devotion to him broke his heart. I meant what I said. I had survived thus far because my duty to him directed my footsteps. Without his strength, I would have no guide, no reason to continue.

He motioned for me to retake my seat. When I obeyed, he studied me with the care of one learning the terrain of a new land. “Tree,” he said, “I am grateful for you. I embrace you as a brother and treasure you as I would my own blood. But, my old friend, you cannot live for me or for any person. You must live for yourself.”

I scoffed. “You just told me you lived on because of your duty to the realm and for your son. Is that living for yourself?”

“After my wife was taken, my duty is what directed me. My son saved me. You saved me from falling away into a pit of despair I could not crawl from. I still ache for my wife. I still crave revenge, but I have learned that it is not what happens to us in life that matters. It is how we deal with it that makes a difference. What difference will I make? I do not know, but if I can not see the hand of a higher power guiding me for the good of my people, then I can offer nothing to them or to my son. Or to you.”

His eyes drifted past me to stare at something I suspected that even if I turned to follow his gaze, I would not see. “I can offer you nothing as a friend if I do not believe in myself.” Again he returned to me to search my face. “I believe in you.”

My spine stiffened. “I am honored.”

A harsh laugh answered me. “You are indeed pigheaded, Tree. As your king, I charge you to heed me. When you take up your weapons in the battles to come, I command you to set your heart and mind right. You protect my people. You fight so that children may live freely under the canopy of green we love. You fight so that no other may have to come to her defense. You fight to destroy evil. If you should take satisfaction for the wrongs done you, so be it. But make no mistake, there is nothing nor no one more important than making clear the way for all to be free. That includes you. Free yourself as well as all others.”

I could see my way to fighting for right, still, I stumbled over how to free myself.

Oropher did not let die his charge to me. He wanted more. “I charge you with the life of my realm if something happens to me. I charge you with the well being of my son and his wife and should the blessings of children be granted him, with my grandchildren as well. I charge you to handle your own life with care, to cope with what has been dealt you with grace and dignity. I grant you a place in the House of Oropher forever. I expect you, should Thranduil need you, to be an honest and strong councilor for him as you have been for me.”

He straightened his back and raised his chin to look at me from under his hooded lids. “I require your oath in this matter. In the event fell winds come my way, I am entrusting my realm and my family into your care. Will you accept this not as a duty, but as a valued member of my household, as a defender of the Woodland Realm?”

For a moment, I could not move. I wanted nothing more than to reassure Oropher I would support Thranduil as king if events too horrible to contemplate came about. To do so meant I would have to stop thinking of only myself. There! There rested my revelation. I had been living a selfish life, thinking I had suffered more than anyone else, that my rights to grieve outweighed the rights of others to live free and happy.

To give up my citizenship in pain would not be easy, but finally I could see a faint blurring of its borders. Perhaps they would eventually melt away, release me to find a purpose beyond grief.

I slid from my chair and knelt in front of Oropher. “My lord king, I freely give my oath of service to the Woodland Realm, to you, my king, and to your family. By my life, for as long as it is granted, I will watch over, offer counsel and care for them with the same loyalty and concern as I would my own flesh and blood.” I raised my head to look at him. “I cherish my place in your household.”

Oropher placed his hand on my head. “You are already cherished.” He smiled. “Will you live with joy?”

The smile I returned to him still struggled with a deep sadness, but at the corners of my lips, a twinge of true pleasure creased my cheeks. It was a start. “I will find it and should it find me first, I will accept it.”

He moved his hand from my head to my shoulder and grasped it firmly. “That is all I ask, my chosen brother.”

“Then I will give this task my whole heart.”

Oropher sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “It should not be a task.”

“You have made a dent. Do not press your good fortune.”

Oropher picked up his cup, then pointed to where I had left mine on his desk. “There is nearly a whole skin left. Let us tend to it and start tomorrow with a good headache.”

I retrieved my cup and held it out to him to refill. “It will not be the first time. But perhaps it will be the first morning of a new life.”

Oropher raised his cup. “To every new day.”

I joined him in salute. “And may we find joy in each one.”

With a look of satisfaction on his face, Oropher threw his feet up on my chair. “Now you begin to understand.”