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Spring Awakenings  by daw the minstrel

I borrow characters and setting from Tolkien. I gain no profit from their use other than the enriched imaginative life I believe he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.

*******

15.  Celebration

Thranduil left the sitting room, satisfied with the results of his conversation with his new daughter-in-law, and immediately met Eilian, who was obviously seeking him.

“Ithilden said you wanted me, Adar,” Eilian said, caution on his face and in his voice. Thranduil grimaced a little.  Had it always been so between him and this son? he wondered in despair.  Surely there had been a time when his child’s face had lit up with joy at the sight of him.  How could things have gone so wrong between them?

But Thranduil knew the answer to that question, for he had sat up half the night contemplating it.  The Wood-elf lightness of spirit that had delighted him in his wife had frustrated him in the son for whose discipline he held himself responsible, and as Eilian had grown old enough to want independence, they had clashed with increasing frequency.  And then, when Lorellin had rushed headlong into danger and left them all bereft, Eilian had been a young warrior, engaged in his own flirtatious dance with danger, and Thranduil had trembled and grown angry nearly every time he saw him.   Thranduil had always seen his own impulsive father in Eilian, but yesterday, for the first time, he had admitted to himself that what truly terrified him was the way that Lorellin looked out at him through her son’s dark grey eyes.

“I want to speak to you,” Thranduil said, gesturing toward his office door.  His face still guarded, Eilian stepped aside to let his father precede him and then followed obediently.  Thranduil seated himself behind the desk, while Eilian waited uncertainly.  Thranduil sighed. “Sit down,” he said, indicating the chair before his desk and noting the relief in his son’s face as he accepted the invitation.

Uncharacteristically at a loss how to start, Thranduil fingered the emerald-studded handle of the dagger he used as a letter opener.  Realizing he was fidgeting, he put the dagger down and began determinedly.  “Ithilden undoubtedly told you that he and I agreed you were to serve in his office until you were well enough for active duty and then were to captain the Home Guard.”

“I would be willing to wager that Ithilden had very little to say about it,” Eilian answered, his mouth tightening with automatic resentment.

“Under the circumstances,” said Thranduil sharply, “helping your brother with paperwork and then forgoing a little excitement in the south would seem to me to be the least you could expect by way of penalties.  You disobeyed me, Eilian, and you excluded your family from something that is important to them and affects them.  And even aside from that, you need, as you have always needed, to learn more patience!”   Eilian bit his lip and lowered his eyes, and Thranduil suddenly brought himself up short.  This was not the path he had wanted this conversation to take.  He drew a deep breath and leaned forward a little, willing his son to look up.

“Eilian,” he pleaded, “you do need to learn patience, and you need it now more than ever for you have just bonded with someone who obviously loves you beyond reason and thus have added to the number of people who would be devastated if anything happened to you.  You nearly died of that wound that still troubles you, iôn-nín.  Even now, my heart freezes at the thought of the first glimpse I had of you, so still and pale, when your companions brought you home.”  Eilian’s eyes were on him now, widening a little at what Thranduil knew must be an unfamiliar tone in his voice.

“I am a warrior, Adar. Warriors are wounded sometimes.”

“But warriors can behave with some discretion, some care!”

“I was not wounded because of carelessness,” Eilian said sharply. “Ask Legolas. He was there.”

Thranduil paused and glanced down at the dagger again for a moment.  “I believe that you have become more careful over the years,” he acknowledged with some difficulty. “Ithilden tells me that you are without peer as a scout and as a scourge for the enemy in the south.  I believe that having a captain’s responsibility has helped you there. You would not knowingly lead others into unreasonable danger, even if you were tempted to go yourself.” He looked up and was startled to find a bitter look on his son’s face.

“Thank you,” Eilian said sarcastically.  “I can see how much it cost you to admit that.”

“Do you believe I do not value you as a warrior who has served this Realm well?” Thranduil demanded, stung by his son’s tone.

“I believe you expect me to behave irresponsibly and are shocked when I do not,” Eilian retorted.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, regarding one another.  Had he really hurt his son so badly? Thranduil wondered in despair.  Did Eilian really believe that he thought so little of him? And then, even more painfully, he wondered if perhaps Eilian’s accusation was an accurate one.  Did he expect the worst from Eilian?  And in a flash, he knew: To expect the worst was to prepare for the worst, to try to guard himself from the unbearable pain that would consume him if he lost this child, who was so like his lost mother.

Thranduil drew a deep breath.  “I know how good a warrior and captain you are. I know that you are eminently suited to lead the Southern Patrol, and I am deeply grateful that the Realm has you in its service.”  He could see Eilian’s hands tightening on the arms of his chair as doubt flickered across his face, and then his son relaxed slightly.

“Thank you, Adar.”

Thranduil felt a momentary shame that his son was so grateful for a simple statement of the truth.  Had he really been so chary with praise for Eilian?

“That is what I feel as a king,” Thranduil went on and was startled to hear the slight tremor in his voice. “But as a father, I worry, for I see you tearing so impulsively through life, and I know that caution is a struggle for you, as it was for your naneth. It was a struggle she lost, Eilian, and I cannot help but fear that you will lose it too.  You are so like her, my child.”

Eilian sat staring at him, with his mouth slightly open. He licked his lips, and then suddenly he rose and came around the desk to put his arms around Thranduil’s shoulders.  Immensely gratified, Thranduil rose to embrace him.  “I am sorry, Adar,” Eilian said.  “I do not mean to frighten you.”

Thranduil cradled the back of the dark head in his right hand and put his lips to his son’s hair. “I loved your naneth’s bravery and the way she embraced life with such enthusiasm, and I love those things in you too, Eilian.  But those very qualities killed her, and sometimes even now, I am angry that she was so careless, for although I know it is not rational, it feels as if she left me willfully.  I am sorry that sometimes that anger spills over onto you.” He pulled back and looked beseechingly into his son’s face.  “But you must take care, iôn-nín.  If you will not do it for me or your brothers, you must do it for Celuwen.”

Eilian patted his shoulder, and Thranduil felt suddenly absurd at being comforted by his son.  He was the parent here after all. “I will take as much care as I can,” Eilian told him. “But I am what I am, Adar.”  His face too was beseeching.

Thranduil drew a deep breath. “That is as much as I can ask,” he said, a little sadly.  He let go of Eilian, who stepped away.

“I have a request to make of you, Adar,” Eilian said tentatively.

“What is it?”

“In the storeroom, there is a particular ring I want to give to Celuwen tonight.”

“Which one?”

Eilian hesitated very slightly.  “The one you gave naneth when I was conceived.  The one with the eye stone on it.”

Thranduil held very still, remembering the day he had given his wife the ring.  They had seen a rainbow in the sky above the meadow where they lay, and he had come home and sought for the ring in his storeroom, for there had been a rainbow of colors gleaming in the gem that he later placed on his wife’s hand.

“Naneth always called it my ring,” Eilian hurried on in explanation, evidently fearing his father’s silence meant he was hesitating.  “She said the rainbow in the stone stood for me.”  He looked a little embarrassed at offering this child’s tale.

“Of course you can have it,” said Thranduil, with tears stinging his eyes. “Your naneth would have rejoiced in its serving as a sign of your love for Celuwen.”

Eilian rewarded him with the gleaming eyes and wide grin that had charmed everyone around him from the time he was an elfling.  “Thank you, Adar. Do you know where Celuwen is now?  Is she busy with Alfirin?”

Thranduil eyed him levelly.  “She is in the sitting room.  I believe Alfirin is still on the green. If you hurry, you can probably escape.  I would wedge a chair under the doorknob if I were you.”

Eilian laughed. “I will take your advice! By your leave.”

Smiling, Thranduil waved him out of the room and then sat down again, thinking about the ring and the day Eilian had been conceived.  Lorellin had always liked Celuwen.  Thranduil made a wry face.  Lorellin would probably have approved of their son’s impromptu bonding.  He could not help but believe that his wife would be present somehow that night when the couple’s union was blessed.

***

A soft rap sounded on the door of Thranduil’s office, and at his bidding, Alfirin entered the room.  Thranduil had been expecting her. It was almost time to dress for the feast and for the family gathering that would take place beforehand.  Alfirin had probably been watching the time and worrying that he would leave it too late.

But it was not of the lateness of the hour that Alfirin brought him word.  “Celuwen’s parents are here,” she announced, a little breathlessly. “I put them in one of the guest chambers.”

“Both of them?” he demanded.  She nodded, and he smiled with slightly narrowed eyes.  Sólith was his guest now, he thought with satisfaction.  He would see what he could make of that, for the Realm’s sake, of course, but also for the sake of his son. He rose.  “I will go and dress now.  We should have the family gathering soon.” She nodded, obviously excited.  The feast would start at the hour of star opening, and she was eager to see the results of her handiwork.

When Thranduil entered the family sitting room a half-hour later, he found Ithilden, Alfirin, and Legolas sitting in awkward silence with Sólith and Isiwen. They all stood as he entered the room, and he was faintly amused by the relief that was plain on the faces of Alfirin and Legolas.  Ithilden shot him a look that suggested he shared his father’s expectation of entertainment, but then, he had heard Thranduil voice his opinion of Sólith at numerous council meetings.  Thranduil regretfully supposed he would have to stop being so frank, now that Celuwen would be at the meetings. Isiwen looked anxious, as well she might. Sólith’s chin was thrust out, and Thranduil would not have been surprised to learn that he had come only when his wife threatened him.

“How delighted we are to welcome you to this celebration of the bonding of our son and daughter!” he exclaimed, crossing the room to place a kiss on Isiwen’s brow and turn a smiling face to Sólith.

“They left it late enough,” Sólith grumbled.  “Families usually celebrate before the couple are bedded.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow.  “Early or late, we treasure this bonding, for the sake of our children, who so clearly love one another.” Sólith glanced at him and then pressed his lips together tightly.

The door opened and Eilian and Celuwen entered the room.  He was dressed in the silk robes and circlet appropriate for a formal occasion, and Celuwen wore the green gown she had been trimming when Thranduil spoke to her that morning. But what really clad them was the glow of happiness in which they walked. Thranduil was stabbed with a sudden memory of what that newly wed joy felt like, and a quick glance showed him that Isiwen was blinking away tears and even Sólith appeared to be swallowing some sort of lump in his throat.  Ithilden took Alfirin’s hand.

With a cry of delight, Celuwen ran forward to embrace her parents.  “I am so glad you are here!”

“We would not have missed it, child,” Isiwen assured her.  Sólith embraced his daughter, glaring at Eilian over her shoulder, but Eilian’s suddenly troubled eyes were on his wife, wrapped in her father’s arms.  Celuwen pulled free and turned to smile at Eilian, who managed to smile tenderly back.

“Daughter,” said Thranduil, and after a moment, Celuwen seemed to realize he was talking to her and turned to him, with a slight blush for her slowness in responding. Thranduil approached her.  “As your new adar, I have a gift for you, Celuwen.  It is not a particularly traditional one, but then you have never seemed to me to be particularly impressed by Noldor-inspired traditions.”

She smiled at him tentatively, and he could see Sólith grimacing. Around her neck, he put a silver chain from which depended a small medallion.  “This is the symbol of office that all my advisers wear,” he told her, “and you are a particularly welcome one.”  He kissed her brow and then turned to her parents. “Celuwen is going to advise us on the needs of the settlements, for their interests are dear to our heart and we would understand them better if we could.”

They both looked startled.  “You would do well to listen to her,” Sólith said stiffly.

“We intend to,” Thranduil assured him, with a serene smile.

He was suddenly aware that Isiwen looked embarrassed. “I am afraid we have nothing for you Eilian,” she apologized.  “But we welcome you to our family anyway.”  Sólith snorted.

Eilian roused himself from surprised contemplation of the medallion around Celuwen’s neck.  “You have already given me that which is most precious,” he said hastily, approaching his mother-in-law and bending to allow her to kiss his forehead in welcome.

“You took it, you mean,” Sólith snapped. There was a moment’s silence. Thranduil could see the shocked look on Legolas’s face and the sudden stiffening of Eilian’s. Enough is enough, he thought.

“Do you mean to insult our son?” he asked frigidly. The silence in the room deepened even further, as all of his children except Celuwen tensed, recognizing his tone for the menacing one it was.

Then Sólith turned to him.  “He did not have my permission to bond with Celuwen, but I suppose he did not tell you that.” The fool had apparently missed the warning edge in Thranduil’s voice.

“Of course he told us,” Thranduil said. “They both did.  We repeat, do you mean to insult our son?  We ask because that is something that we could not allow any more than we could allow someone to insult Celuwen.”

Sólith blinked, and from the corner of his eye, Thranduil could see Eilian’s almost equally startled face.  The Elf hesitated.  “They should not have bonded without permission,” he maintained.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. “We cannot allow anyone to insult our son or daughter,” he repeated, letting the tone of warning deepen to one of threat.

Sólith met his gaze for a moment and then, suddenly, looked away. “I suppose not,” he said. Thranduil waited to see if he would say anything else, and when he did not, decided that that admission was as much as he could expect.

He smiled pleasantly, and his children all relaxed. “Good,” he said. He gestured to them. “Let us go to the feast then.  You two should lead the way,” he told Eilian and Celuwen.  Blowing out a tensely held breath, Eilian took Celuwen’s hand and started out the door without a backward glance.  Thranduil came immediately behind, offering his arm to Isiwen.  Sólith followed, and Thranduil was amused to notice that Legolas evidently preferred to walk alone behind Ithilden and Alfirin rather than go near Eilian’s father-in-law.  Alfirin glanced back at him and then extended her free hand to him, which he took, tucking her hand through his arm and bending to whisper something in her ear that made her open her eyes wider and giggle.  Ithilden grinned and shook his head. Thranduil patted Isiwen’s hand and hoped his children were going to behave themselves.

Alfirin had stationed a watcher to notify the musicians on the green when the king’s family was approaching, and as they walked through the Great Doors, the musicians began to play and a murmur of approval and welcome rose from the assembled guests, broken suddenly by enthusiastic and faintly bawdy cheers.  Ahead of him, Thranduil could see Eilian break into a grin as he spotted a group of his friends who were evidently responsible for the noise.  Thranduil looked quickly at Isiwen and was relieved to see that she looked amused.

Eilian did as he should have done and led his wife and his family to their places at the table at one end of the green, and the guests moved to the other tables, seating themselves after Thranduil sat.  Servants lifted the coverings from the tureens of stew and the other platters on the table.

“I do not understand,” said Alfirin suddenly, from two places to Thranduil’s left.  He turned to see her beckoning to his steward, who was hovering nearby with a broad smile on his face.  “Where did this food all come from?” she asked him, sounding bewildered.

Thranduil looked at the table and suddenly realized that the stew was accompanied by a plate of fried fish, a salad of spring greens, a flat cake made of acorn meal and studded with what looked like walnuts, and a dish of shimmering strawberry jam.

“The guests brought it, my lady,” said the steward happily.  “Lord Eilian has many friends.”

Alfirin paused for only a second to absorb this information and then rallied to take action. “The extra food should be shared,” she declared.

“It already has been,” the steward said. And Thranduil realized that the other tables too were laden with extra platters of food, making what looked like an incredibly lavish meal after this winter’s dearth.  He glanced to his right to see Eilian’s startled and then grateful face.

“It would seem you are loved by more than your family, iôn-nín,” Thranduil said, loudly enough to be certain that Sólith would hear him from where he sat at the right end of the table.  Eilian was blinking rapidly, and Celuwen took his right hand.  “Enjoy the gifts your friends have brought,” Thranduil told them and put some of the fish on Eilian’s plate as Isiwen fussily served Celuwen.

The food was good, and Thranduil ate with pleasure, aware as he always was of the activities going on around him.  Alfirin was glowing at the success of her plans, and Ithilden had his arm around her.  Legolas was constantly scanning the crowd, apparently looking for someone whom he was not finding.  Isiwen dithered a little, plainly worried about Sólith, who sat sullenly beside her.  Eilian and Celuwen ate in silence, touching one another at every opportunity. The musicians wandered and played as people ate, and the night slowly darkened to show a thick spangling of stars.

When most of the guests appeared to have finished eating, Thranduil signaled to the musicians, who stopped playing as he rose.  The crowd gradually fell silent.  Thranduil had planned this part of the evening carefully.  He motioned for those at the head table to follow him and led them all to the center of the green, so that the guests could see them.  Eilian and Celuwen had already exchanged the blessings that lay at the heart of the bonding ceremony, and they would not repeat those tonight.  What the couple needed was a public acknowledgement of their bonding and the belated blessing of their parents, and Thranduil intended to see that they had both things.  Isiwen had a firm hold on Sólith’s arm, so Thranduil assumed that he stood near the newlyweds with some reluctance, but at least he stood there.

“We gather tonight to celebrate the bonding of Eilian and Celuwen,” Thranduil began.  He smiled at his son and daughter-in-law.  “I believe they have gifts to give to one another.”

Almost shyly, Eilian and Celuwen turned to one another.  Celuwen fumbled for something small that she had knotted in the sash of her gown, and Eilian fished something from an inner pocket of his robe.  He took her right hand and slid onto her index finger the ring that had belonged to his mother.  Even by starlight, the eye stone glowed with pearlescent colors, and Thranduil’s throat caught.  “So you will see the rainbow in the stone and think of me even when I am far away,” Eilian said in voice that Thranduil knew was probably too low to be heard by most of those there.

Celuwen was blinking rapidly, but her voice was steady as she placed a slender band of worked gold on Eilian’s right hand and said, “So you will see the sign of my love and know that it is strong even when you are far away.”

A pleased murmur swept through the crowd.  Thranduil smiled.  “The bonding of Eilian with Celuwen pleases us more than we can say, all the more so because Celuwen is one of the Elves whom we honor for having lived bravely in the forest.”  He turned to look blandly at Sólith and gestured that it was his turn to speak.  Sólith looked startled, for he had undoubtedly expected Thranduil to invite Isiwen to speak, as she would have done had this been an actual bonding ceremony.  But this was a celebration of an already formed bond, and Thranduil intended to force Sólith to at least appear to celebrate. All eyes turned to Sólith, and Thranduil had the satisfaction of seeing him in a spot from which he could not easily wiggle free.

Sólith stood for a second in silence, and then he looked at Celuwen, who looked back at him with her face pleading.  Eilian stood with his hand on her shoulder, and Thranduil noted approvingly that his face was carefully blank.   His second son was capable of tact after all.

Sólith cleared his throat.  “I rejoice in my daughter’s happiness,” he said, “and in the way this bond will draw the king closer to those who need his help in the settlements.”  Good enough, thought Thranduil and signaled the musicians to begin playing again before Sólith could say anything more.

At the sound of the music, guests swept out from behind the tables to the clear area in the center of the green and began to dance, and Thranduil smiled benevolently on those around him as he made his way back to his place, stopping to accept congratulations along the way.  Someone suddenly clasped his arm in a warrior’s grip.  “He has done a good thing, my lord,” Maltanaur said approvingly. “She will be the making of him.”

Thranduil broke into a delighted grin at the sight of Eilian’s bodyguard, who had been spending the time during which Eilian was recovering from his wound in fighting with the Southern Patrol. “I was not sure you would be here on time,” he said.

“I rode all night,” Maltanaur said, shrugging off the fact that such a night ride was so dangerous that he would never have allowed Eilian to make it.  “I would not have missed this celebration for the world.”  He glanced to where Eilian and Celuwen were dancing in a ring that included several of his friends and, surprisingly enough, her parents, although Eilian and Sólith had as many dancers as possible between them.  “By your leave, though, I will go and greet him.”

Thranduil waved him on his way and returned to his seat in satisfaction.  He poured himself more wine and sat back to watch the dancers for a while.  Memory pulled at him, showing him other celebrations and other dancers, many of whom he would not see again until they met in Valinor.  He looked at Celuwen and Eilian, who both were now barefoot as he clasped both her hands and spun her around in a laughing whirl.  And suddenly, he found he could not bear to watch these two Wood-elves, who were so obviously in love, and had to turn away.

Someone sat down beside him, and he turned to see Beliond filling his own wine cup and then refilling Thranduil’s.  “We old ones need to step aside for a while and keep our memories and losses to ourselves, I think,” he said.  Thranduil made no answer, thinking of Beliond’s son, dead at Dagorlad, and his wife, who long ago sailed west.  “They say that the Lady Galadriel has the gift of foresight,” Beliond went on.  “And I ask you, who would want such a thing?”

Thranduil looked at the dancers again.  Eilian had drawn Celuwen close and was whispering in her ear.  Legolas was dancing with the wife of his friend Annael, his eyes still scanning the crowd.  Off to his left, Thranduil could hear Ithilden and Alfirin talking to her parents about the last letter they had gotten from their son, Sinnarn, who was with the northern border patrol.  Who indeed? he wondered.

***

In the pale early morning light, Legolas flung his pack over the back of his horse and wondered if he had been wise to have that last cup of wine the previous night.  He had been stupid to hope that Tuilinn might be there. Ah, well. The ride south would give him a chance to work off the remnants of the celebration of Eilian’s bonding.  He smiled to himself.  His father had outdone himself in putting Sólith right where he wanted him.  You had to hand it to Thranduil: He was as wily as they came.

“Legolas,” spoke a voice at his elbow, and he jumped as his father seemed to materialize out of his thoughts.

“Good morning, Adar,” he said.

“Good morning.” Thranduil’s voice was warm.  “Before you left, I wanted to tell you again how well you did with Anyr and how much I appreciate your giving up your leave to do it.”

Legolas could feel himself flushing with pleasure. “Thank you, Adar.  I did not mind, truly.”

Thranduil drew him into a close embrace.  “Take care, Legolas.  You will make a fine lieutenant, but you must take care and come home again whole.  I have had enough of wounded sons for a while.”

Legolas smiled. “I will be careful. Beliond will see to it that I am.”

Thranduil laughed, and the two of them led Legolas’s horse out into the stable yard where Beliond and the rest of the family were waiting for them.  Legolas found himself being hugged by person after person, ending up with Eilian.  “I can hardly stand to let you go back by yourself, brat,” Eilian said, his face showing the real pain that he felt. “It seems unnatural that I should stay home while you ride off into danger.”

“He will not be riding into danger if I can help it,” Beliond snorted.  “He is going to behave like a sensible warrior.”  They all laughed, and Legolas leapt lightly onto his horse.

For a moment, he paused, scanning the much-loved faces turned up to him.  Alfirin looked motherly and anxious, and a serious-faced Ithilden put his arm around her shoulders. Legolas knew that it had always pained him to send his brothers into battle.  Eilian stood unhappily near Legolas’s left side, his hand still on Legolas’s leg, and Celuwen waited a little behind him. But it was Thranduil upon whose face Legolas focused.  His father looked grave, but when the moment came, he raised his hand in farewell and let his son go.

Legolas led Beliond away from his father’s stronghold, glancing back only once to see the little group of those whom he held most dear.  Then he urged his horse on, and the two of them rode off to face whatever awaited them.

The End

*******

AN: My apologies that I couldn’t fit Tinár’s wife into the party scene. She’ll have to come on stage another day.  An eye stone is another name for an opal. "Eilian" is the Sindarin word for rainbow.





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