Chapter 2 – Child of Starlight, Child of Shadow

            The young elf knelt in the verdant grass, his long slender fingers floating above the small flowers that bloomed there like white stars in an emerald sky.   Their fragile scent rose on the soft air and he smiled as he inhaled.

            “Niphredil,” he breathed, feeling wonder fill him.   In the distance, the sound of a quiet melody reached his ears, a song that told of the wonder of the stars and of the world about them.   It murmured in all that was about him; even the wood was celebrating.

            ~I wonder what she is like? ~ he thought, a smile just touching his lips as a fingertip touched one flower’s delicate pearlescent petals.   There were many rumors flying about, quiet murmurings about the new baby.   ~I am sure she is beautiful, for her mother is the most lovely creature I have ever beheld and her father is as fair as the starlight itself, ~ he thought with a grin, thinking that description of his king quite apt.   It was then that he heard the voices.   He straightened, his black brows drawn down in a frown.   ~Why do they have to come here now?! ~ he thought, glancing about for a place to hide.   Then he gazed upward into the trees.

            A moment later four young elves dressed in fine clothing embroidered with subtle designs in silver and white entered the glade to gaze at the niphredil flowers.   They were talking quietly together, unaware that there was someone else hidden above them.

           He perched on a sturdy branch of a towering oak tree, his knees drawn to his chest, his back against the tree’s mottled grey trunk.   His grey eyes were closed, the black lashes curled on his cheeks as he listened to the excited voices that drifted up to him.   Perhaps if he couldn’t see them, then they would not see him.   He smiled slightly at this, knowing that it wasn’t true; it had not been true when he was younger either, but he still found himself closing his eyes when he didn’t wish to be seen.   He certainly didn’t want to be seen, not now and not by them.   If they knew he was here . . . .   He frowned, keeping his eyes resolutely shut, even as he thought they were all too old for such childish games.

            It seemed that there was only one topic of all the conversation in Doriath, and at first the young elf had been as happy and excited as everyone else to engage in these conversations, or at least delight in listening to them, for their king’s wife had given birth to an exquisite daughter named Luthien.   Those who had seen the child spoke of her ethereal beauty, fey and enchanting beyond even elven-kind.   Many had wandered to the place of her birth to gaze at the fair white flowers.   Niphredil they were called, and they had sprung from the earth when Luthien was born.

            That she was a special child, they all knew.   How could she not be, when her mother was the Maia Melian and her father the great elven king Elu Thingol! She was special indeed.   Luthien’s parents were preparing to have a great feast to celebrate her birth and to show the people their new princess.   All the elves of Doriath were now preparing the gifts they wanted to give the child, and it was this that troubled the young elf huddled in the oak tree.   He knew not what he could give to one so fair and wondrous and unique that would be worthy of her.

            His mother, who was a weaver and was working on a bolt of lovely blue cloth to give to the babe, had suggested that he carve something, for he was clever with his hands.   But his father was a carver, and much more skilled with the tools of his trade than his son was.

            ~What am I good at? What gift do I possess to give?  ~ he thought, opening his eyes to   gaze unhappily at the elves who were still laughing beneath him, totally unaware of his presence as they discussed the festivities that were to take place that night and the wonderful, unique gifts they would present.   ~I am good at memorizing the histories and stories that Master Angoltur has taught me.   He even said that I might be a loremaster one day. I would like that.    But I don’t think the baby would be interested in such, not yet anyway.   I could sing to her . . . . ~   He had a talent for singing and playing upon any instrument of music that came into his hand, but he was so very shy and uncertain of his talent that he seldom let anyone hear him, preferring to wander into the woods and play or sing for the trees and the stars, his music drifting on the lonely twilight air.

            ~I wish I were bolder, ~ he thought, his gaze drifting to the group beneath him.   Celeborn had joined them, his silver hair glistening in the starlight, his laughter rich and filled with delight.   ~I wish I were as bold and forthright as he, ~ the dark haired elf thought wistfully.   ~He always knows what to say, or says what he is thinking.   I could never do that.   I always seem to say the wrong thing or nothing at all. ~ He sighed slightly, his eyes moving to the sky, gazing upon the stars that shone between the oaks interlaced branches.   ~If only I could call one of them from the sky, then I would have a gift worthy of her, ~ he thought wryly.

            “Why don’t you come off your perch and join us, Daeron?”

            The elf started at the sound of his name, nearly unseating himself.   He felt the others’ eyes upon him and, biting his lip, he gazed down at them.   It had been Celeborn that had spoken.   He seemed to be aware of everything that was happening around him, and Daeron should have known that he couldn’t hide right above Celeborn’s head and expect to remain invisible.

            Knowing he must face them or flee and look more of a fool than he already did, Daeron dropped silently to the ground, his eyes downcast as his fingers twisted in the grey fabric of his tunic.

            “Spying on us again, were you, Daeron?”   Nendui asked, his eyes cool and bitter.

            “I wasn’t spying,” Daeron murmured quietly, his eyes on the ground as he felt color flood his cheeks.   He should have known this was coming.   “I was here before you arrived.   I didn’t know you would be coming here.”

            The four elves that had been here before Celeborn’s arrival exchanged glances, and Daeron hunched his shoulders uncomfortably.   He knew what they would say next, for this was the only thing they seemed capable of speaking of when he was in their presence.

            “Sneaking and spying on us, just as you did when we were children.   Telling on us when we were merely going to have fun.”

            “You could have been hurt those times that I told,” Daeron blurted as he did every time they spoke of their childhood adventures that had seemed far too dangerous to him.   He hadn’t told on them every time they planned something, only when he felt that the situation might grow too perilous.

            ~Why do I always answer them the same way?   Why does it still bother me that this is all they remember from our childhood?    We are grown now, and still they speak of this! ~

            “You were always running to tell on us, Shadow,” Naurglin remarked snidely, using the old hated nickname, as he grinned at his companions.

            “Sneaking little Shadow,” Brilost laughed, knowing by the way Daeron was staring so intently at his feet that this particular taunt still hurt as much as it had in the days when they had played together beneath the twilit trees and water falls.

            Celeborn’s hand clamped on Nendui’s shoulder, which put an abrupt end to their laughter and comments as the Sindarin prince glimpsed the pain that flashed in Daeron’s eyes. He sighed and shook his head.   They should all be old enough to lay past grievances aside, but some of them matured more slowly it seemed.

            ~But, ~ he thought with wry amusement, ~Shadow was very annoying. ~

            “It is true that Daeron was irritating when we were younger, but there are things you should be concerned with this night other than being rude.   Away with you.”

            The small group bid Celeborn farewell before turning and walking away.   They muttered in low voices, but Daeron could still hear the quiet drift of words, ‘Sneaking Shadow’ among them.

            “You shouldn’t let what they say upset you this way, Daeron.   They only do it because they know it grieves you.   It was a long time ago, and best forgotten.”

            Daeron sighed and nodded.   He knew that only too well, but he couldn’t seem to overcome this, especially when they reminded him of his over-cautiousness every time they encountered him.

            Celeborn studied him in silence for a moment, knowing that Daeron wasn’t comfortable with the subject of conversation or being reminded of how exasperating he used to be.

            ~So perhaps it is time to change it, ~ the silver haired prince of Doriath thought.

            “What gift will you be giving my fair cousin this night?” he asked, thinking that this might be a better topic to speak of.   It seemed that little else was being spoken of this night in Doriath as they all anticipated the wonderful feasting, singing, and dancing, not to mention that they would get to see their already beloved princess.

            But Daeron’s countenance only darkened, and his fingers twisted in his tunic once more.   Celeborn raised one brow in speculation before continuing.

            “It is very difficult to choose the right gift, one that is appropriate and will be remembered and cherished after the day is over.”

            Daeron frowned.   Yes, this was his dilemma, for he could not even think of a gift that *would* be forgotten after the day was over.

            Celeborn could see the dismay on his companion’s face, and a small satisfied smile touched his lips.   Perhaps this was the moment he had been waiting for, the opening that might just give this quiet elf something that he needed to overcome whatever shyness possessed him.   Daeron seemed sadly lacking in self-esteem and Celeborn meant to change this.   He too had been annoyed with Daeron when he would ‘run and tell’ their parents about their adventurous childhood escapades, but he knew now that he had only done this ‘traitorous deed’ for fear that they would injure themselves.   Celeborn’s smile widened and he shook his head.   They had been tremendously foolish at times, and he doubted not that Daeron had saved their necks many times over with his cautiousness.   It disturbed him to see Daeron so reticent, and he wondered if perhaps these childhood remembrances only made this worse.

            “If I might make a suggestion,” he began, his gaze moving from Daeron to the stars above, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his expression unreadable as the starlight glittered in his long braided silver tresses.

            “Yes, my lord?”

            Celeborn could hear the eagerness in Daeron’s voice and his smile widened.   He was pleased that his dark-haired companion would listen to this, though Celeborn wondered how the suggestion would be taken.   ~Something must be done to draw you out, ~ he thought wryly. ~We hurt you immensely when we were younger, making you doubt yourself.   And it seems that some still do, but I mean to change that. ~

            “You should sing to her,” he said simply, and then he waited.

            Daeron’s eyes widened in sudden distress.   This was Celeborn’s suggestion?   To sing for her?   It would have been hard enough to stand before the king and queen and give them something for their daughter - he would not even be able to meet their eyes let alone speak!   Yet Celeborn had suggested that he ‘sing’ to the new princess, before all of the gathered people?

            “Sing?   But . . . my lord, I . . . I couldn’t!” he stammered, though he had thought the same thing earlier.

            “I beg to differ,” Celeborn continued in an unconcerned tone.   “It was you that I heard singing the other night, was it not?”

            Daeron’s face reddened once more and he shook his head, dark hair cascading over one shoulder and obscuring his profile.

            “I did not mean for anyone to hear me,” he said apologetically as his lean fingers moved to toy with the end of one long braid.   “I am sorry.”

            “You needn’t apologize.   It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard,” Celeborn said truthfully, turning to look at this painfully shy elf.   “It moved me.”

            Daeron glanced up at him, a look of stunned surprise on his face.

            “Truly?   But . . . but how did you know it was me?”

            Pleasure washed through him, erasing the distress and dismay. There was no slyness or deceit in the silver prince’s eyes.   Had he truly meant what he had said?

            “After the song ended, I went in search of the one who had sung so powerfully with a voice that was laced with enchantment as strong as the starlight.   I saw you seated on the ground by the beech trees, hidden in the shadows beneath them, and I admit that I was surprised to see that it was you.   For a moment, I wondered if I had missed the one who had sung earlier.”   Celeborn smiled again, seeing the frown that crossed Daeron’s face.    Indeed.   Who would think one like this timid, fey youth could possess such a voice, such a gift? “Then you began to sing again, a new song I have never heard, and I knew that I had found the singer.   Where did you learn that song, Daeron?”

            “I . . . I didn’t learn it, my lord,” he stammered.   “I . . .I made it up.   It happens that way at times.   I see something beautiful and the words . . . they just seem to . . .to flood my mind and the melody seems to come from the very trees themselves.   I . . . ,” he hesitated, knowing he must sound like the fool that he often acted.   Often he said too much.   His gaze dropped to the ground once more.   Or sometimes he said nothing.

            ~He is aptly named. ~ Celeborn recollected that he had thought it an odd thing to name a child:   Daeron.   ~Shadow, ~ Celeborn thought sadly.   ~He doesn’t want to be seen or heard.   Perhaps I might change this tonight. His voice can be the star that pierces the cloud that covers him and blazes forth to light the skies. ~  

            “I am amazed then.   You have many gifts that we know nothing of,” he smiled and tilted Daeron’s face up with one finger set firmly beneath the other’s chin.   “Sing for her.   Use your gift and perhaps you will see for yourself what it is worth.   When you sing you give something of yourself, a part of who you are.   Sing for Luthien, Daeron.   It will be the best gift you could give to her.”

            Daeron’s eyes met the prince’s for a moment, and then he slowly nodded as he considered what had been said.   He would try, holding Celeborn’s kind words in his heart to bolster his courage, which would flee before he ever managed to choke out the first note.

            “Thank you, my lord,” he whispered, a melody already surging in his blood as he his thoughts turned to the baby princess that he had not seen yet, his eyes on the fallen stars of Niphredil.   “I will give her a song.”

~*~*~*~*~*

            That night Daeron waited with his mother and father to be called forward to present their gifts to the baby.   There was such a crowd of happy people that he still had not seen even a glimpse of the babe.   His heart pounded in his chest and he swallowed, his throat gone dry with fear.   Would he be able to get the song out past his anxiety, or would he stand mute and ridiculous, wrapped in silence and humiliation?   He watched as everyone moved forward to greet their king and queen, smiling at the baby and giving their magnificent gifts, receiving smiles and nods from their well-loved rulers.

            Thingol and Melian did look most regal this night, clothed in shimmering garments and glittering jewels, the stars above making a fitting crown for them.

            ~I cannot do this, ~ Daeron thought, lifting his eyes to gaze upon them once more, noting how the king’s hair shone so silver and the queen’s as dark as the sky.   Multi-hued jewels glittered in the dark cloud of her hair like twinkling stars; her eyes were luminous and filled with such wisdom and knowledge that Daeron marveled anew that one of the Maiar would take on such a humble form for the one her heart had been captured by.   Suddenly distress filled him once more.

            ~And to think that I would sing to her daughter!   She who taught the nightingales to sing! She who could weave a web of silence in far off Valinor when she sang!   I cannot do this!    How could I dare to sing before her?! ~

            As though she had sensed his thoughts, Melian turned to gaze at him even though he thought he stood hidden behind all the others that were bringing their gifts to Luthien.   He felt captured by her, the light that shone in her eyes so ageless and vast that he felt overwhelmed.   She looked at him curiously, seeing things that might come to be.   She felt a fleeting fear, and she shook her head.   Slowly she released him, wondering what magic would be spun this night that would entrap this shadowy youth in a struggle with fate.   Yet her fear had not been for him alone, but for her daughter who lay drowsing in her arms, her face content beneath the black curls on her brow.   Melian smiled gently, one finger tenderly brushing Luthien’s rosy cheek.

            ~You are not even aware of what is going on, are you, sweetling? ~

            Daeron felt himself go limp with relief when he was released from Melian’s otherworldly gaze, but when at last he moved to stand before them he found that his fear had returned in full measure, and he gazed steadfastly at the ground as his parents presented their offerings.   He barely heard the quiet words spoken by Maedheryn and Menelmathron, words of wonder and praise for the princess.   Yet the silence that followed seemed loud indeed.   He found that his parents were looking to him as were Thingol and Melian.   His eyes widened slightly and he wanted to flee, but he looked to Celeborn who was standing off to one side, smiling at him encouragingly.   He drew a breath, hearing behind him, somewhere in the crowd the whispered words of “Sneaking Shadow”.

            ~I am more than a shadow, ~ he thought, standing tall and straight, his long hands smoothing down his tunic of muted blue.   He moved forward only a few steps, just enough   so that he could see the babe’s clear eyes which glittered as brightly as the stars themselves.   He gasped in amazement, her beauty capturing him.   She was unique, and he knew at that moment she had captured his heart as surely as Thingol’s had been captured by his enchanting Maia.   It seemed as though there were only the two of them here beneath the trees and the stars.   He did not see the tears that shimmered in Melian’s eyes as sad fate was woven that night in Doriath, a sad fate that awaited both her child and this shy young elf.

            ~Yet some things are meant to be, ~ she thought sorrowfully, knowing that Eru, in his wisdom, shaped the music of their lives.   Her eyes lifted to the young elf’s mother, and she saw the same sorrow in Menelmathron’s eyes as well.   ~A mother’s knowledge is often hard to bear, ~ she thought, as the elven weaver felt the Maia’s gaze and looked up at her, a shared moment of silence exchanged.  

            Daeron smiled down at Luthien, not daring to move any closer, but he gazed steadfastly at her exquisite face, unaware of the other eyes that were upon him.

            “I will sing for you,” he said quietly, a new melody rushing through him, new words blossoming in his mind and soul.   The song he had prepared was forgotten, as it was not fitting for one such as she, now that he had seen her.   Few songs could tell of her beauty and her innocence, the light that lived in her, the light of her spirit.   He would strive his entire life to be able to capture what she was with his words and the music that danced in his soul.   Little did he know what soft enchantment he now wove about himself was one he would never escape.   Softly, he began to sing.

            Thingol stared at the dark-haired son of Maedheryn and Menelmathron with wonder as Daeron’s voice slowly filled the air. The song began in a low tone and was barely discernable from the low contented murmurings of the trees, but then it grew bolder and soon all could hear the first song he crafted for Luthien.    Surely this was not the shy youth that had hidden behind the curtain when Thingol had entered Angoltur’s study on one of his visits to the Loremaster of Doriath?   He had been nothing but a shadow then, half hidden from the king’s gaze.   Yet now he stood here before them all, singing with a voice that would enthrall even the Valar.   Melian’s nightingales, some perched on the branches about them, some resting on the back of her chair, stared intently at the singer, bright eyes glittering in the light of the stars and the silver and blue lamps hanging in the boughs of the trees.  

            The words seemed perfectly crafted and Thingol wondered how long it had taken this shy youth to invent them.   Or had someone else written them and this youth merely sang something he had memorized?   Even so, he had never heard anything so powerful, else it was his wife’s singing.   He would have to ask Angoltur about this later.   If that youth had indeed written that song. . . . Thingol smiled.

            Daeron, who was unaware of everything about him but Luthien, sang to the baby, a smile on his lips.   Delight and happiness rang through him as he watched Luthien wriggle with pleasure, her small chubby feet kicking as though she wanted to dance to the song he sang.   He had never felt such happiness before in his life!  

            ~This is what I want to do, ~ he thought as his song ended.   ~I want to make music for you, fair Luthien. ~   Then the baby smiled at him, her luminous eyes bright and lovely as the stars that shone above them, and Daeron’s answering smile glowed with all that was in his newly awakened heart.

            Silence filled the air, and then the sharp noise of applause filled the glade.   Daeron started, recalling where he was.   His eyes darted fearfully to the king and queen, his fingers knotting on his tunic as he bowed and stepped away.   He felt Maedheryn’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.   Daeron turned and saw the pride shining in his father’s grey eyes.   As they moved back into the crowd, he turned to his mother.   She smiled at him, but there was a shadow in her own eyes and for a moment he faltered.   Perhaps he had not done as well as he had thought.   Then she smiled and embraced him, and when she gazed at him again the shadow was gone.   He grinned, amazed at how many of the people were smiling at him, and complimenting him on his gift, even the four who had tormented him for so long gave him begrudging nods of acknowledgement.   He had never felt like this, like he belonged, as though he had found his place in the world.

            Daeron’s eyes sought out Prince Celeborn, and when the silver haired elf turned to him with a smile of congratulations on his lips, Daeron mouthed, “Thank you.”   Celeborn tipped his head and grinned.

            Later that night, as Daeron lay in on a pile of beech leaves with contentment and happiness still lingering, he thought back on all that had happened.   This night had been better than he could have imagined.   He recalled the king’s glance, so filled with wonder and speculation, and the applause of the people, but mostly he remembered Luthien’s smile and bright eyes.

            ~Some day I will write music for you to dance to, little Luthien.   Will you dance for me? ~

            With these happy thoughts, he drifted into contented sleep, thinking that one day she might dance for him if his music was good enough.

TBC