Chapter 9: Consultations

The day after the festival found most of the inhabitants of Lothlorien sleeping very late and recovering from the previous night’s revelry. All except Thranduil. The King of Greenwood arose just before dawn no matter what time he retired. He always had. Like every morning, Thranduil watched the sun rise—this morning from the balcony of his flet in Lorien. But he scarcely saw it. His mind was on the stars…and how they looked reflected in Lindomiel’s eyes as he danced with her.

Thranduil was a fairly old elf. He had his share of interests in ladies and certainly enough ladies had shown interest in him. But Lindomiel…he could not turn his mind from her. And dancing with her…holding her…catching her hand or her waist while moving through the lively dances…looking into her eyes and seeing the excitement there…the slight flush on her cheeks…the life. That was it more than anything else, he realized suddenly. She was so alive. It made him feel alive. A feeling he was not sure he had felt since Dagorlad. And she gave him a sense of peace…contentment…he could not describe it. Harmony, perhaps. Regardless, he loved her company.

He shook himself, tried to turn his thoughts to anything else and failed.

Hallion normally joined his king in the morning as soon as the sun was fully in the sky. Today would be no exception. He knocked on the king’s door and entered.

“I do not believe we will be working this morning, my lord. The council was not scheduled to meet the day after the festival. But do you need for me to do anything for you?”

Thranduil’s eyes slowly focused on his steward. “Yes, why do you not sit down and deliver me your appraisal, Hallion?”

Hallion tensed. The wording of that request sounded angered and the king’s tone was unreadable. Hallion considered feigning ignorance, but immediately rejected that idea. Thranduil was direct and brutally honest and he did not appreciate anything less in others. Instead, Hallion sighed. “I am sorry if I have intruded on something you would prefer I had not, my lord. I admit I was curious. She seemed too young to be interesting and too nobly born to be a simple dalliance.”

“Sit down, Hallion,” Thranduil repeated. “I am not angry,” he said, though his tone was fairly stiff. “Tell me if your curiosity was satisfied.”

Hallion sat. “It was, I think, my lord. She seems to be very intelligent. I enjoyed speaking with her,” he said simply.

“Indeed. I do too.” Thranduil looked at his steward, his emotions now plain in his eyes.

Hallion struggled not to react. It was very rare for Thranduil to open up to anyone, though if he was going to do so, it would normally be to Hallion. Given the fact that Thranduil was apparently ready to discuss this, Hallion saw that Lindomiel was far more than a dalliance. The king’s eyes held a myriad of emotions—not the least of which were confusion and doubt. Hallion suddenly wondered if his king knew that the lady did indeed return his affections. It had certainly been obvious to him last night and she had clearly intended it to be. At that thought, Hallion laughed as the humor of being Thranduil Oropherion’s go-between struck him full force.

The king’s eyes narrowed. “Do you find something entertaining, Hallion?”

Hallion made a valiant effort to stop laughing and respond seriously. “No, Thranduil,” he said daring to slide into a more informal atmosphere. “I am simply very happy to see you finally falling in love. I feared, as did your Adar, that you never would allow yourself such comforts.”

Thranduil looked at him wryly. “I did not allow this or seek it. I find I cannot deny it.”

That forced Hallion to regard his king seriously. “Indeed?” he asked quietly. “Well that is certainly a good sign.” Then he smiled. “I am very happy for you. She is a lovely lady. She is young, but I have no doubt she will be a fine queen for Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil now looked slightly amused. “I think we must first determine if the lady in question even cares for me, Hallion.”

Hallion smiled broadly. “The lady definitely cares for you, Thranduil. She was quite upset that it was I and not you that had managed to escape the High Table and I noticed the stories of Doriath that interested her by far the most were ones that featured you and your Adar.”

Thranduil looked at Hallion sidelong. “I was an elfling in Doriath, Hallion.”

“Yes, I think she finds that amusing to contemplate.”

Thranduil smirked. “I am terrified to think what you told her.”

“You should be,” was the snide reply. “You were terribly behaved as an elfling, Thranduil.”