Chapter 18: Weaving a web of lies with half truths

The summer was coming to its end and Lindomiel continued to enjoy her visit to Greenwood, falling into a pleasant routine. She spent her days in Dieneryn’s workshop continuing with her study of weaving under the queen’s tutelage. It was a good opportunity for Dieneryn to get acquainted with the elleth that had so plainly captivated her son and the queen enjoyed her time with the young maiden. When Lindomiel was not in the workshop, she entertained herself with a variety of activities. She rode or walked through the forest, swam in the pools with some of the ladies she met in the queen’s workshop and read in the gardens. But obviously she most looked forward to the time that she spent with Thranduil. His schedule was busy, but despite that they walked every evening along the paths in the forest and they occasionally escaped together for a few hours during the day at lunchtime. 

Even more rarely, they had the opportunity to meet in the mornings. Thranduil normally watched the sunrise from a tall flet in solitude—his one and only chance during the day for private thoughts. But when he knew his duties would keep him from spending time with Lindomiel in the evening, he happily gave her his time in the morning. She also enjoyed watching the sunrise.

Today, Thranduil was scheduled to meet with representatives from a Mannish village in the southwest, so he knew he would be busy until late in the evening save possibly at lunchtime. Therefore, he sought Lindomiel out in the place he knew she preferred to watch the sunrise—by the river. The warming rays of the sun could only just be detected as he came upon her. She was sitting on the forest’s edge, facing the river and leaning back into the cradling embrace of a large oak tree. Her face was turned east, bathed in the soft morning light, but her eyes were closed. Thranduil smiled and walked silently to the tree.

“The sunrise is much more beautiful when you look on it with your eyes open,” he whispered into her ear.

Lindomiel was deeply engrossed in the morning song of the trees and the gentle, warm breeze lofting through them. She had not detected his approach, so when he spoke, she jumped. Thranduil laughed lightly as she scowled up at him.

“You villain! You nearly scared me to death!” she growled, but she could not conceal the laughter in her eyes.

Thranduil settled himself on the ground next to her. “I should not be able to sneak up on you at unawares. An elf should be more alert to her surroundings,” he teased.

Lindomiel scowled playfully. “You are very lucky you do not have a dagger in your chest,” she retorted. Then she looked at him seriously. “I take it you will be working tonight.”

He nodded. “Very likely. I have an afternoon meeting with some Men. Those meetings tend to be long.”

Lindomiel’s eyes lit up at that topic. “Men? Here? Are they here? I have never met a man before.”

Thranduil’s expression became guarded. “And you will not today. I have enough to worry about with this meeting without adding to my troubles. I can only imagine what your adar would do if I began introducing his daughter to men and dwarves and the Valar only know what else…”

Lindomiel frowned in disappointment. “Thranduil, I am certain to meet men at some point…”

“Lorien has very little contact with any outside influences and almost no contact with other races…”

“Surely you do not assume that I intend to live in Lorien my entire life, Thranduil?”

That caused the king to look at Lindomiel sharply with an effort to hide his reaction. “Do you?”

Lindomiel returned his gaze evenly. “That remains to be seen. I certainly have enjoyed my stay in Eryn Galen.”

Thranduil smiled softly. “Have you indeed?”

“I have,” she said with a grin.

Thranduil took her hand, tracing an idle pattern across it as he spoke. “Tell me what you like most about Eryn Galen,” he requested. The light in his eyes was teasing.

She smirked. “Well,” she appeared to consider. “The forest itself is lovely. The trees seem very content and welcoming and peaceful. And I have enjoyed weaving with the queen. I have learned a great deal from her. I met a number of interesting people in her workshop that I would certainly hate to leave behind if I were to return to Lorien.”

“And those ladies are the only folk you would hate to leave behind,” he prompted returning her smirk.

“Oh, well a few ellyn weave with your naneth. I have become friends with them as well.” She paused and he looked at her with laughing eyes. “And there is your brother, of course. I have enjoyed his company immensely. I would surely miss him.”

Thranduil laughed out right at that and so did Lindomiel. “So you could be happy in Eryn Galen?” he asked. His eyes were still dancing, but his tone was completely serious.

“Definitely,” she responded.

He smiled at that, raising her hand to his lips to kiss it and then using it to pull her closer to him, so that she was leaning against him as they watched the sunrise. His arms circled her waist. “Eryn Galen would be a much happier place with you in it,” he whispered against her hair.

Lindomiel smiled and enjoyed the sunrise and the feel of Thranduil’s arms around her, but she wondered how much more direct she would have to be before Thranduil would be convinced that she did wish to stay in Greenwood. They had this discussion several times and on each occasion she had assured him that she did love the forest. He always seemed pleased to hear that, but he never pursued the topic to what Lindomiel saw as its natural conclusion. She knew perfectly well that Thranduil wanted her to have time to truly become acquainted with his realm and its people, but she had been visiting for an entire season. Lindomiel was quickly discovering that Thranduil’s patience exceeded her own. At least on this topic.

These thoughts wandered through her head as she sat in the king’s embrace. She was so absorbed by them that she jumped again when he spoke.

“I had better be getting to my office. Are you going to naneth’s workshop? May I walk with you there?”

Lindomiel’s eyes flashed to the sun—it was well into the sky. She laughed lightly to herself. They must have been sitting there for at least an hour if not two. “Your advisors are going to be very cross with you, lord Thranduil,” she said with a mock-serious tone as she stood.

“My advisors now assume that whenever I am late, it is your fault somehow.” Thranduil shrugged slightly, a playful grin spreading across his face. “It is very convenient really. I can get away with nearly anything and you will be blamed.” He paused for emphasis. “And no one complains. Indeed, they seem to approve.” Lindomiel raised her eyebrows at that so Thranduil elaborated. “On one of the days that I had told the council to expect me back late from lunch because you and I were having a picnic, I heard Hallion telling Golwon to wait to tell me about a trade incident that they knew would anger me until after lunch. It seems Hallion thought I would be better disposed to handling the bitter news after spending some time with you.”

Lindomiel laughed and looked at him, clearly shocked that he took overhearing that so well. “Were you?” she asked.

“I admit that I was. And what is more, I even behaved as if I was, despite the temptation to prove Hallion incorrect. I did, however, have some interesting revenge on Hallion for his treachery later that week.”

“No doubt,” Lindomiel laughed.

They walked the rest of the way back to the courtyard and to Dieneryn’s workshop laughing about the story Thranduil told of his ‘revenge.’ When they entered the workshop, Lindomiel was still giggling. Everyone stood upon seeing Thranduil. The king waved the ladies to their seats, stayed and spoke to them all for a few more moments. Then, kissing Lindomiel’s hand in farewell, he proceeded finally to his office to begin his day’s work.

As Lindomiel took her seat at her loom, the eyes of many of the ladies were upon her—not the least of all, Marti’s.  Marti despised Lindomiel more and more every day. Determined that Lindomiel and the king should not be together, Marti had launched a campaign against her almost immediately after her arrival. She made sure, for example, that an embellished version of the king's swim with Lindomiel was well advertised. Doing her best to paint Lindomiel in the worst light possible, Marti spread any gossip she could and enjoyed reasonable success, especially amongst her group of younger friends. Their interactions with Lindomiel were considerably cooler than they might be. But other than that small group, no one paid attention to Marti. Everyone in Greenwood loved their king. They saw how happy he was with Lindomiel and they rejoiced for him, hoping to see the courtship come to a betrothal as soon as possible.

And that was why the ladies in the workshop all stared at Lindomiel so intently now. Lindomiel bent her head over her loom to hide her smile. She knew exactly what effect the king’s escort to the workshop would produce.

“The king seemed to be in a very good mood this morning,” one of the ladies commented, apparently idly.

“Especially for a day when the queen tells us she must join her son in negotiations with the Mannish representatives. I do not recall ever seeing him so cheerful on a morning when he is scheduled to treat with Men,” another replied.

“You came in with him, Lindomiel. Do you have any idea why he is in such good humor?” a third lady asked mischievously. All the ladies giggled at that. All except Marti.

“I cannot imagine,” Lindomiel replied airily, not looking up from her weaving. “He happened upon me as I was watching the sunrise this morning and he was in a good mood then. Very joking, in fact.”

“Watching the sunrise together? Is that what you were doing?” one of Dieneryn’s closest friends asked. Her tone implied that she believed the king and Lindomiel might have done a bit more than simply make astronomical observations.

Lindomiel did look up at that. Wryly. “Yes, we watched the sunrise. And nothing more,” she replied flatly. Her voice openly revealed her frustration.

All the ladies laughed again. This had been a topic of jokes before amongst Lindomiel and the friends she had made with Dieneryn’s ladies. “He is plainly lost over you, Lindomiel. Never fear,” one of the ellyth said through her laughter.

“Yes, he is merely being cautious. He recognizes how young you are and he does not want to pressure you before you have had a chance to determine if you can accept all the changes you would have to endure if you and he were to…do something more than watch sunrises together.”

Lindomiel laughed and nodded. She had that discussion with both her own mother and with Dieneryn. Indeed, she had recognized that was Thranduil’s intent without being told by either of them. Understanding that did not make it less exasperating.

After a moment of silence, another lady continued the conversation. “I do not think there is an unmarried elleth in Eryn Galen who would not envy you a little, Lindomiel, if you were to capture the king’s heart,” she sighed.

“They may be envious, but they will still be without hope. I do not think there is an unmarried elleth in Eryn Galen that has not already tried and failed to attract the king’s attention,” someone else said.

Marti decided that she had enough of this conversation. “On the contrary. I would say a good many have succeeded in that endeavor to some degree or another.” That comment brought the room to silence as everyone stared at her.

There was no measure of truth to that statement at all. Prince Thranduil had always been very decorous with his father’s subjects. True, it was rumored that he had been more solicitous of female attention in his youth in Lindon and Sirion, but few of those ladies had come to Eryn Galen to prove the claims. And while it could not be said that Thranduil had never kissed maidens here in Greenwood, he certainly had not played loose with anyone’s feelings. The ellyth he kissed he had intentions towards. Ones that simply did not come to fruition for whatever reason.

And that aside, even if Thranduil had kissed every female on the face of Arda, it was not something you would say in such a setting—his mother’s workshop in the presence of his mother’s ladies-in-waiting.

But Lindomiel only laughed. “Indeed. You should hear what my adar says about your king. When I first mentioned to him that I had met the King of Eryn Galen, I received a two-hour lecture that included names and dates of probably every elleth he ever looked at in Sirion and Lindon, when my adar lived in close proximity to Aran Oropher’s family. My adar then proceeded to supply me with conjecture and rumor on Prince Thranduil’s behavior in Eryn Galen. It was quite laughable really. Oh!” she exclaimed now laughing in earnest. “And I wish you could have seen the look on Thranduil’s face when I told him what my adar had said!”

This was met with astonished and nervous laughter. “You told him?”

“Of course. What better way to get a feel for the truth of it? I thought he might faint! Truly. He was so offended. You know that stern look he does?” She began to imitate it and the ladies laughed again. “He put that on his face and I thought he might go extract some satisfaction from my adar. Really, however the king might have behaved in the high spirits of his youth, he is clearly much more…modest now.”

“Is that so?” Marti said with an arched eyebrow and a voice that rose in pitch.

Lindomiel only laughed. “Yes, it is so,” she replied dryly.

This drew knowing laughter from the married ladies and reactions that ranged from modest giggles to lustful sighs from the maidens. There was no one who did not think the king was handsome.

“Well, I hope you find that your visit to Eryn Galen proves interesting, Lindomiel,” one of the girls concluded meaningfully.

“Thank you,” Lindomiel smirked.

Marti glowered, her face hidden behind her loom.

Later, as the ladies slowly left for lunch, Marti lingered behind. Lindomiel stayed as well, still working to achieve some level of mastery over the interlocked weft pattern Dieneryn had been teaching her. Marti came behind Lindomiel, pretending to look at the tapestry, but in reality glaring at Lindomiel. Lindomiel caught the direction of her eyes from the corner of her own, but could not comprehend her expression. She stopped her weaving and looked at Marti questioningly. Marti openly glared at her. The day’s conversation had angered her beyond words.

“You know, whatever impression Thranduil has managed to give you, your adar’s interpretation fell closer to reality,” she finally said, obviously referencing their earlier conversation.

Lindomiel frowned at that. “I know that to not be the truth, Marti,” she said firmly and very coolly.

“Lindomiel, I have been with the king myself. I speak from experience.”

Lindomiel looked up at that involuntarily. She could not conceal her surprise.

Marti felt a glow of pleasure at how she had shocked the little princess. She looked at her airily. “Indeed. He and I passed a very passionate evening in that talan at the edge of the forest. I will never forget how his lips felt as they fell to the neckline of my dress. I am very thankful I wore a low cut dress that night. Or how his hands felt…” her voice trailed off at the memory for she was truly lost in it. Marti’s hands ran up her waist and over her breasts as she spoke. And that fact was not missed by Lindomiel.

Lindomiel looked down. “I would not think you would care to share such an intimate moment publicly,” she said quietly.

Marti smirked at her. “Forgive me if I have embarrassed you, my lady. It must be uncomfortable to know that so many ellyth have enjoyed the embrace of the elf that so interests you, but I fear they have. If that is important to you, perhaps it is best that you know about his actions before you become too involved. But I would not stop my pursuit if I were you. At least not until you have a chance to experience an evening with him. He is a passionate lover.”

Lindomiel blinked in utter shock at that. “That is enough of this conversation, I think,” she said quietly, standing and turning from her loom. She left the workshop without a backward glance.

Marti followed her departure with her eyes, a malicious smile on her lips.

Lindomiel walked with outward calm from the queen’s workshop, but she was furious. She was young, but she had been raised in the court in Lothlorien. She was completely familiar with all aspects of court life, including the less desirable ones like rumormongers. It had not taken her long to realize that was what Marti was. She was well aware of what Marti had said about her in the past, but that conversation had been revolting. And one that needed to be reported to Thranduil. If Marti was willing to make such damaging commentary about the king to her, what else would she do? Lindomiel glanced at the doors of the Great Hall to judge the prospects of seeing the king promptly. They were slim. Elven guards stood at the doors with their mannish counterparts, clearly indicating that the day's negotiations were in progress. Lindomiel stared at them across the distance of the courtyard, momentarily distracted.

“The king will be busy all day, my lady,” a voice said from behind her.

For the third time in only half a day, Lindomiel jumped and turned quickly. Behind her stood Aradunnon, looking at her with alarm and apology.

“Forgive me if I startled you, my lady. I certainly did not mean to,” he said quickly.

Lindomiel laughed lightly, shaking her head. “You and your brother need a bell around your necks. You have both done that to me today.”

“And it is only noon. What a fine start to the day for you,” he replied sarcastically. “But I fear it will not end well either. The king will be quite busy all day, as I said.”

Lindomiel grew serious again. “I know. He told me this morning when I saw him. I need to tell him something that someone said to me, though. Something he should be aware of.”

Aradunnon frowned at that and her grim expression. “Is it something important enough to interrupt his meeting? I will call him out of it if you think it is necessary.”

Lindomiel shook her head. “No, it is not so important to interrupt negotiations with foreigners,” she said quietly. Then she looked at Aradunnon. “I am surprised you are not with him.”

Aradunnon smiled. “Engwe and Thranduil will be difficult enough for the poor men to endure. My presence is not required,” he joked and Lindomiel laughed. “I do not generally concern myself with foreign trade, my lady. That is Celonhael and Golwon’s domain, not mine. I limit myself to military matters.” He smiled at her suddenly. “Since I am free, perhaps I can entertain you for the afternoon. Amoneth and I were going to go for a ride in the forest along with your lady mother. Would you like to come?”

Lindomiel considered for a moment. “Yes, I think I will come. Thank you. I need the distraction.” Lindomiel had no desire to return to the workshop after lunch. She happily took Aradunnon’s arm and allowed him to lead her off to the stables. She could talk to Thranduil in the evening.

*~*~*

Amglaur sat in the courtyard in Eryn Galen’s capital city, watching his daughter. She had emerged from Dieneryn’s workshop with an expression on her face that Amglaur read with perfect ease, though no one else was likely to do so. Lindomiel was furious and hiding it expertly. That piqued Amglaur’s curiosity because, like her father, Lindomiel rarely bothered to censor her interactions. The only reason she might do so would be for matters of court propriety and that meant her anger likely involved Thranduil in some way. That was certainly interesting.

Amglaur intended to intercept his daughter as she proceeded across the courtyard, and so was quite vexed when Aradunnon diverted her instead. Amglaur liked Aradunnon even less than he liked Thranduil. When they headed in the direction of the royal stable, Amglaur frowned. He knew his wife and Lindomiel’s friend intended to ride with the prince today. Lindomiel apparently was joining them. He would have to wait to find out what had displeased his daughter.

Amglaur felt someone watching him and his eyes scanned the courtyard. Finally they fell on a dark-haired elleth. She was looking at him after obviously glaring at Lindomiel. Amglaur’s eyes narrowed. The elleth looked at him for a moment and then strode across the lawn. Amglaur recognized her as she got closer—this was the elleth that draped herself on the king at the banquet his first night in Greenwood. The one Thranduil seemed so desperate to avoid. Amglaur snorted to himself. No wonder she was glaring at Lindomiel.

The dark-haired elleth approached him directly. When she came to a stop in front of him, he stood out of courtesy, but his muscles tensed involuntarily. This elleth seemed very…wrong somehow.

“Lord Amglaur, correct?” she asked in clipped tones.

Amglaur raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Do we know each other?”

“We do not. I am Marti,” she responded.

Amglaur frowned. The elleth offered no patronymic or realm. He simply stared at her silently, his naturally imposing air evident in his posture and expression.

Marti did not seem the least affected by it. “You are Lindomiel’s adar.”

It was not a question, so Amglaur did not respond to it. He continued studying her, trying to determine why she set him on edge.

“I have observed that you do not seem particularly fond of lord Thranduil, yet you are allowing him to court your daughter.”

Amglaur did not allow his reaction to that observation to show in his features at all. Nevertheless, he was stunned. How did this elleth think that topic of conversation might concern her? Amglaur could guess the answer to that—she was jealous and ill-mannered enough to make a display of it.

“You would do well to curtail your daughter’s interactions with the king. He cares nothing for her. He is merely trifling with her.”

Amglaur arched one eyebrow. “Is that so?” he asked coolly. As much as he did not like Thranduil, he sincerely doubted that.

“Yes, it is so. I know that because he and I are involved as well.”

Amglaur looked at the elleth for a moment before allowing an amused smiled to claim his lips. “In your mind perhaps,” he replied mockingly. “I saw the way you threw yourself at the king on the night that I arrived here. And I saw his reaction. He could not rid himself of your company fast enough. I do not think you want to embarrass yourself further with this conversation. Please leave.”

Marti’s mouth formed a hard, furious line and her brows drew together. She was wrath itself. But she looked him directly in the eye. “The king is not comfortable around me because he has something to be ashamed of. Think about that, for it is true, and consider if he is suitable for your daughter.”

With that, Marti walked away, leaving Amglaur staring at her back. That elleth was plainly deluded. There was no doubt in Amglaur’s mind of that. There was also no doubt that her last statement had been true—at least in her own mind. There was no deception in her eyes. Amglaur sat back down and turned his gaze to the Great Hall. He definitely intended to have a word with the king when his meetings concluded.

*~*~*

Naneth/nana--Mother/mum

Ellon/ellyn--Male elf(s)

Elleth/ellyth--Female elf(s)

Adar/ada--Father/dad

Aran--King