Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

4. Springtime in the Greenwood

"Yes..." She looks away, still appearing uncertain. "Shall there be dancing?"

It has been question after question since the invitation was given. I have spent most of our walk answering them, but she is never reassured. Perhaps I should not have invited her. It would have at least kept her from fretting.

"Of course, though not as much as during Mereth Nuin Giliath. When the feast ends and the King makes his speech regarding the New Year, the music shall play again. That is when the dancing starts."

The path turns to meet the larger main road leading through the heart of the woodland village. We come upon a crowd of people gathered to listen to a minstrel standing on the ledge of the center fountain. In a high-pitched voice which does not fit him, he sings a ballad from Gondolin, one usually reserved for Yestarë.

Soon after we join the audience, a straw-haired elf strides up to Gwendes and greets her, his grin nearly reaching his large ears.

"Sírdor! This is indeed a happy surprise." Gwendes' returning smile is even wider. "You must meet my new friend, Lady Rîneth."

"Mae govannen, Sírdor."

He bows his head to me, but his gaze does not linger. "It is always a pleasure to meet a friend of Gwendes'."

When his eyes return to Gwendes, I know he never wants to look upon anyone else again, save her. With his eager expression and the way his weed-thin frame leans in her direction, there is no doubting his feelings fly above friendship, above the treetops and to the firmament beyond.

"I was just speaking with your father," he says. "I asked for you, but of course you were not home. It is only by luck I saw you here."

Gwendes' eyes turn downwards, showing her lashes. "Good luck or bad?"

"Very good."

Not wishing to intrude, I turn back to the enthusiastic minstrel. But instead of listening to his song, my ears are still tuned to their conversation.

"Have you had the chance to read the book I lent you?" Gwendes asks.

"Not yet, but I assure you as soon as I find time to rest, I shall start it. I am busier than usual during springtime..."

"Yes, yes, of course. I thought of you the entire time I first read it. I knew you would appreciate the depictions of the battles, and the..."

The minstrel's volume seems to increase with every word, making it impossible to continue listening to their exchange.

Though I cannot question the singer's courage, I question his talent. But his loyal group of listeners does not depart. Two elflings stand at the fountain near his feet, their small faces peering upwards to watch his every move with wonder. It is surely the special air of spring and Yestarë which keeps them captivated.

Sírdor does not stay long, reluctantly saying he has more work to attend to. Before Gwendes' attention becomes distracted by the minstrel's ballad, I lead her away from the entranced throng and back down the forest path.

"Sírdor is very fond of you."

She smiles. "Oh, yes. He grew close with Ada after helping him with our garden and leaking roof last summer. Ada invited him to dine with us and...well, we have been friends ever since."

The gentle song from a finch in one of the beech trees is a more pleasing tune than the minstrel's.

"It seems to me you are far more than friends."

There is a tinge of pink at Gwendes' temples. "Perhaps. He is always kind to me, you see. And helpful...not only to me but to my family. And he admires my pottery work and believes I too often underestimate myself."

"You do. I see that now more than ever..."

"What do you mean, my lady?" She stops walking.

"You fail to see that any ellon in the realm would believe themselves lucky to have you, not only Sírdor."

Her forehead furrows. "Lady Rîneth, you are far too kind. But I am Silvan. Nana taught me those of higher ranking do not mix blood with Wood-elves."

An unpleasant sensation winds through me. So, this is what the Silvans have been teaching their children. It is as I have feared. But have they been given reason to believe otherwise? I do not know for certain, and it troubles me.

"I shall never understand it," I say. "The fact your people did not cross the Sea thousands of years ago should not mean anything."

"It means everything, my lady. Tis why we live amongst the trees and you live in your cavern halls."

"I know a few of your kind who live there. Most of you refuse to leave your homes in the forest. The King does not deny anyone safety within the caves if they wish it, especially in these dark times."

Gwendes does not reply, turning her vision to the rushing river nearby.

"You must know something, mellon. My mother is Silvan, the daughter of a smith, little different from you. Ada was not so high-minded to think her below his station."

"You believe there are others like him?"

"I do."

"But...do you not believe Sírdor is a good match for me?" The lines of her mouth settle into a frown.

"While he is very kind, I fear you feel there is no other option. I shall not stand in the way of your happiness, but let me prove to you tomorrow night there are others who would deem you worthy."

"Then perhaps I should borrow one of your dresses..."

A nasty hacking sound rents the air, ruining the peaceful birdsong. It comes from a large gnarled beech tree in the distance, near the riverbank. I spot two guards standing at its trunk, one with flaming hair which can only belong to Tauriel. Another miserable cough, and a whining voice follows, but I cannot discern the words. There is a movement in the branches.

"What is that?" Gwendes asks.

"Gollum."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, sweet readers! Next up, a spring celebration and more interaction with our matchmaking heroine and the King. Please vote if you like!