The King stands from his chair, and the room falls quiet.
"Lady Rîneth, sing for us."
If he had deduced the subject of my conversation with Legolas and is punishing me, I will perhaps never know, but the sudden command could not have shocked me more. As if I am stuck in mud, I cannot move. Everyone is looking at me expectantly. Lady Aethel's mouth is agape.
"You are good at the Hymn to Elbereth, I recall," says Thranduil, his deep voice dispassionate.
"I...I shall try my best, my lord." I bow my head.
I force my legs through the mud. They are wobbly from the effort. Though a few steps away, it feels like a journey to the Iron Hills. Or the Sundering Sea. I finally reach where Caewen sits with her harp in front of Thranduil's endless wall of volumes and tomes and scrolls. She looks up in question. I nod.
I shut my eyes to recall the lyrics, and to gather my strength as well; I have not sung in front of an audience since Ada's Aur en-Onnad a hundred years ago or more, and only at his sincerest request. Why would Thranduil command this of me? He never has before.
I open my eyes and see him. He has moved from the hearth and joined my father, and both stand in front of me. He gives me a small smile. With a nod to Caewen, I open my mouth to sing.
Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O queen beyond the Western Seas! O light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!
The flowing notes from the harp complement my voice and fill me with courage. I sing louder, with more feeling, and lose myself to the words and to my own thoughts.
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aearon!
My mind whirls over what Legolas revealed, what I have never known before. It is obvious Thranduil still grieves his wife's passing. Was he there to witness her being cast into the fire, unable to save her? It is unfathomable. No wonder he does not speak of it.
Without intending to, the Hymn to Elbereth, usually played at celebrations and happy feasts, lacks its usual joy.
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas
The harp fades with a last melodic strum, and the watchers applaud softly. Ferdir claps loudest, flashing his teeth in a wide grin. Thranduil bows his crowned head, and returns to his chair without voicing another request.
"Let us now hear Caewen sing," says Lady Aethel. "She has the prettiest voice in all of Arda, I daresay!"
I step back into the small audience between Ada and Ferdir. Ada grasps my shoulder, a comforting gesture after Aethel's thoughtless words. But I know the Lady meant no harm. Her adoration for Caewen surpasses her awareness.
As Caewen begins the Song of Nimrodel, her high dulcet voice as clear and beautiful as the celestial melodies from her harp, a warmth floods my cheeks. I wonder if it is too early to take my leave.
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-grey
"Your song was far better," Ferdir whispers, his vision fixed ahead.
YOU ARE READING
Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)
Fanfiction[A Wattpad FEATURED story!] She's been King Thranduil's close friend for a long time. But when a shocking rumor about his past comes to light, it shakes her entire world. How well does she really know him? With the threat of war and an uncertain fut...
18. The Rumor
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