Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

27. Reassurance

In the corner of my vision I notice Thranduil still in conversation with Caewen. Is that a blush on the lady's cheeks, or is it a trick of the light? Instantly reminded of Ferdir's suspicions, the unpleasant sensation in my stomach returns and I hasten my steps to the door.

I long for the fresh forest air, and to feel the chilly autumn wind lash my face and bring me clarity again. Perhaps it is Emlinith's despicable comments alone which have caused the sensation, but I must be rid of it. And soon.

The harvest moon shines brightly through the swaying branches, illuminating the leaves carpeting the ground. The village is a far away and unreachable shadow in the distance. I inhale deeply and grip the railing of the river bridge, concentrating on warm memories to erase my darkened mood, like the Feast of Starlight when Gwendes danced until the first rays of morning.

And when Thranduil asked me for a dance.

Again my thoughts swirl to Caewen and her silver swan harp. A fierce wind attempts to steal my hair and cloak and carry them to the Sundering Seas. I hug my chest in a tight embrace.

I know I must ask him. I am willing to bear his fury to have solace in knowing the truth.

The truth being he still loves his wife, and always shall.

I suddenly dislike Ferdir very much for placing doubt in my mind where there had never been doubt before.

"I knew I would find you here."

"I must practice not being so predictable."

Thranduil steps onto the bridge to join me, the dark outlines of several guards standing at the cavern entrance behind his tall figure. "It seemed you were troubled at dinner. Was it the Lady Daffodil?"

"I am surprised you noticed. You appeared to be in deep discussion with Lady Caewen."

Even though I kept my voice light, Thranduil raises his dark brows. "I would not describe a conversation regarding Lady Galadriel's musicians as deep. You must not have had any deep discussions of late."

With the teasing in his tone, I dread asking him the question which will remove it and transform the playful light in his eyes to cold steel.

"You have never been skilled at disguising your feelings, Rîneth."

"I am aware." I look away from his probing gaze, and my false smile disappears, swept away with the wind.

"What is wrong?"

I muster just enough bravery, or foolishness, to utter the words in a swift tumble. "Was it you who sent Lady Caewen the harp?"

At first his face gives away nothing. Not even a wrinkle on his forehead. He becomes still, the barest movement of his chest the only assurance he has not turned to stone. He finally turns his face to stare at the waterfall ahead.

I braced for a storm, yet his temperament has not made a significant change. Anger I anticipated, and have handled many times before, but this is something different. Feeling off-kilter, I tighten my grip on the railing and focus on keeping my breaths even.

When he finally speaks, it feels like a year has passed.

"You will never reveal who gave you this idea, but I know it is not your own."

"You are right. And I do not believe it."

"Then why did you ask me?"

Heat creeps up my neck and face. "For reassurance."

He looks at me then, his eyes as dark as the deepening night. "Why do you need reassurance?"

"Because it will not leave my mind, Thranduil. It was a dark seed planted which has grown and taken root, shaping my vision and thoughts to believe that which I know cannot be true. Just tell me yes or no, 'tis all I ask..."

"All you ask? Do you not realize how much weight your question carries? It implies I could love another..."

"Besides your wife."

His eyes flash. "Could you ever believe this?"

"No."

Our breaths create white clouds in the air. The forest is silent save for the soft hoot of an owl and the mild wind rustling the leaves.

I remember Ferdir's other rumor, that Thranduil's wife did not love him. But I dare not ask him about it. Not now, not ever.

"Please forgive me, mellon." I close my eyes. "It is not that I have or ever would believe it, but since hearing the rumor and it taking hold, it cannot be removed by anything other than truth. I need to hear it."

"Truth," he repeats the word as though it is bitter on his tongue. His jaw tightens. "Then hear the truth: I did not send the harp to Caewen. Nor do I have feelings for her."

"Thank you."

The silence grows louder than the water's frenzied rush. I expect him to take his leave; I have disappointed him. I feel the bitterest guilt. Never should I have asked him such a question, regardless of the doubt muddling my thoughts. Had I not already known the truth?

"I beseech your forgiveness," I say, no longer able to hold his gaze. "I do not know what came over me..."

"There is nothing to forgive, Rîneth."

"I was wrong. I should never have--"

"You would not have asked if you truly believed me incapable of loving someone other than Itaril."

My eyes widen. He never speaks his wife's name, not to me, not to even my father. I can only stare at him as if struck dumb.

"I am aware of the rumor. Do not pretend you have not heard it."

"Thranduil..." It is all I can utter.

I shake my head in shame. What have I done?

"I know you defended me when you heard it." His voice is calm and even. "That is how you are, always defending..."

"I told them I did not believe it."

He smiles, surprising me further. "You never wish to believe anything but the best. It is one of your flaws."

"I do not understand."

"Yes, you do. Have not your experiences given you wisdom? We do not live in a perfect word like the one in your head. Oftentimes, rumors prove true."

I search his eyes, awaiting a teasing glint which will give way to the corner of his mouth quirking. But when it never comes, I look away, unable to face him. Something wrenches tightly in my chest.

"One day I will tell you everything, but not tonight. It is not...easy for me to discuss. Losto vae, Rîneth."