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We Were Young Once ~ II  by Conquistadora

ERNIL

Chapter 5 ~ Over the Mountains II




The mountainous path finally opened to release its travelers onto the fading green foothills, presenting a magnificent view of Ost-in-Edhil glowing in the sun.  Thranduil reined his horse to a momentary halt just to appreciate the sight.


“There it is once again, Gwaelas,” he said, smiling to himself.  “They certainly have not been idle since we first passed this way, have they?”


Behind him, Gwaelas was just emerging from the pass, devoting more attention to the task of remaining mounted than did his lord.  He was not yet entirely accustomed to the tall, silver-dappled horses they had brought from the coast, but he was catching on.  Such great mounts were not always the most practical in the lush heart of Greenwood, but Thranduil was still much too fond of them to let their line fade.


“Are we to enter directly, my lord?” Gwaelas asked.


“I see no reason why we should not,” Thranduil said, urging the horse forward again.  “Come on.”


Together they crossed the foothills at an easy gallop toward the wooded footpath approaching the city from their direction.  Thranduil had purposefully avoided the more heavily traveled route linking the Elvish realm to the Dwarves of Hadhodrond.  This way was a bit more roundabout, but it afforded a more serene ride.


The thinning leaves overhead were bright with autumn color, and they caught and scattered the light as they passed beneath them.  The ripe scents pervading the air were a welcome change after the barrenness of the mountains, different from those of Greenwood.  Thranduil slowed his horse to a plodding walk, quite willing to take his time.  Soon he began humming to himself, a light silvan tune, enjoying his extended turn of high spirits.  Gwaelas was glad to pick up his part, singing a counterpoint and allowing his lord to supply the familiar words.  But, all too soon, their music ceased.


“Yes, come out.  I see you.”


This last Thranduil directed at the lurking guard he saw crouched beside the road, and he halted in front of him.


It was a young Golodh who emerged from the leaves, arrayed in orange and saffron so tailored as to make him almost indistinguishable among them.  Almost.  The boy could not have seen more than sixty turns of the sun in his lifetime.  It was good to know that children were springing up throughout Elvendom in those days.


“I am to ask you for your name, my lord, and what brings you to Ost-in-Edhil.”


Thranduil excused the somewhat clumsy execution of his instructions, for he doubted this post afforded much practical experience.  “I am Thranduil,” he replied easily, “Prince in Greenwood beyond the Mountains.  I have come to call upon my father’s kinsman, Lord Celeborn, if he will receive me.”


“That I am not competent to judge, my lord,” the sentry replied, apparently reassured by Thranduil’s casual air, though obviously not without his own misgivings regarding the infamous name of the Greenwood royalty, “but you may pass, and discover it for yourself.”


The city itself was lively and bustling with activity.  Thranduil gained the gate after a brisk trot over white cobblestones, passing beneath the flying colors.  He was rather under-dressed for his rank, and so was not overly conspicuous.  He announced himself once more to the gate guards, their horses were led away to be stabled, and they were given an escort to the palace.


The homes of the nobility were open and spacious, a collection of balconies and terraces interconnected in many places to form its own community within the community.  Thranduil entered by the Gate of the Setting Sun, the path illuminated by an impressive array of mosaics depicting the flaming star of Finwë’s house with a lordly face, radiating in curling tongues of fire from one wall to the other.  Thranduil deliberately planted his heel in the tiled eye as he passed, quite at his ease.


He heartily approved of Celeborn’s new abode thus far.  It was almost as though a memory of Menegroth had been built above ground, like but unlike.  There was certainly more stone than greenery, but even here the walkways were lined with planted shrubs and adorned with small lawns of grass.


Just then an august but exuberant figure rounded the corner ahead of them.  He spread his arms wide and loosed a smile that made the entire corridor seem brighter.


“Thranduil, you renegade!” he beamed, greeting him with a fierce embrace.  “I never guessed you would actually come, though I suppose I should have known better!”


“Yes, you should have,” Thranduil agreed, releasing him.  “It does me good to see you again, Amroth.  Tell me, how do you occupy yourself these days?”


“Not here, more often than not,” Amroth explained, relieving their escort and leading him further into the labyrinth of a palace.  “I am building a realm of my own now in Lórinand over the mountains.  I would have ridden across the way to Lasgalen, but I did not know how your father would receive me.”


“You need not worry about him so long as I am around,” Thranduil protested.  “So, those were your people in the Lórinand woods?  They seem a likely bunch.”


“I have not been disappointed thus far,” Amroth smiled.  “Oh, and my father sends his regrets that he could not come to meet you; he could not escape the meeting of the council.”


“I understand.  I look forward to meeting him as soon as he is free.”


“You will soon be able to meet the whole family.  Ah, yes!  You have not yet seen Celebrían!  I have a sister now, Thranduil, and you have another lovely cousin.  I think you will like her.  Everyone does.  Here are your rooms.”


He opened an elaborately-carven door into a suite fit for royalty.  There was a sumptuous Noldorin air about the place, though it was not unpleasant.


“It is more than adequate, Amroth,” Thranduil nodded.  “You may give my thanks to your father if you see him before I do.”


“Indeed.  But I shall leave you now, as you will want to get settled before dinner.  You arrived with remarkable timing, for tonight we celebrate the commemoration of the city’s founding.  I hope we shall have the honor of your presence among us.”


“You may expect me,” Thranduil assured him. 


Amroth bowed out gracefully, closing the door behind him, leaving his two guests to settle themselves in their new surroundings.


“They seem as hospitable as ever, my lord,” Gwaelas said, his voice colored with a note of relief.  “After our king’s less than gracious reception of their emissaries, I hardly knew what to expect, if you will pardon my saying so.”


“Do not underrate them, Gwaelas, my friend,” Thranduil advised him gently.  “Fortunately, I may often expect better behavior of Celeborn than I can of my own father.  He will understand my coming here.”


“I pray you are right, my lord.”


Thranduil bathed quickly and exchanged his dusty riding tunic for more formal attire.  He was debating what to do for the next few hours when he was distracted by the sounds of laughter wafting in through the window.  Outside, he could see several maidens playing a game together on a grassy terrace.  One of them was distinctively crowned by long tresses of silver, gleaming in the sunlight.


“You stay here and rest, Gwaelas,” he instructed.  “I shall go have a turn about the city.”


 



It did not take him long to find them.  It was a group of six, at least three of whom were plainly ladies-in-waiting.  A lively game of racquetball was underway on the lawn between two of them.


“Pardon me, ladies,” Thranduil addressed himself to the four spectators, “but might I find Lady Celebrían among you?”


“Is Lady Celebrían a personage of so little consequence that she is not known to a lord of the Eldar?” the silver beauty asked, turning her racquet to deflect the ball into the air to land in her left hand.  There was an edge in her voice that was endearingly insolent.


Thranduil, of course, had known her at once, and now could not help smiling to himself.  “Please forgive an errant stranger at the court of Eregion,” he said with a deep and mockingly penitent bow.  “Since Lady Celebrían is reputed to be gracious, I presume she cannot be here.”


There was a collective gasp from the other ladies present.


“I am Lady Celebrían, sir,” she said, indignant now, a flash in her eyes.  “Has any particular purpose driven you here, or have you come merely to be impudent?”


Thranduil made no effort to hide his amusement.  “Merely to make the charming acquaintance of a cousin, my lady,” he corrected her. 


She met the remark with a decidedly ill-favored look.  “I know who you are,” she said at last.  “Your audacity betrays you, Thranduil Oropherion.”


“As does your own, Celebrían.”  He disarmed her baleful stare with a smile.  “But do forgive me; it would not do for us to make enemies of one another at our first meeting.”


She seemed to consider him for a moment, then laughed ominously to herself and tossed the ball to her opponent.  “You are a man of many contradictions, Cousin Thranduil.  Those who know you have said as much.  But I will confess I have long desired to meet you.  Will you stay with us long?”


“As long as you desire it, my lady.  Within reason, of course.”


She came and slipped her arm around his in the familiar Sindarin fashion, offering to show him what he wished to see of the city before the festivities that evening.  If he had not yet decided, he knew then that he would not regret his journey to Eregion, despite his father’s misgivings.







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