Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.

A/N: Whilst this story centres on Oropher and Celeborn, it also provides the back story for those readers of “Immortal Friends”  (and “An Elf, A King and Blueberry Tarts”), who wished to know more about Tariel’s relationship with Oropher and his family.

jenolas

Silver and Gold

Chapter 1. 

The delicate strains of harp music drifted through the forest, its sweet melody gently invited the leaves to dance, and unknowingly called to the troubled spirit that wandered amongst the trees. Oropher was not so lost in his thoughts that he did not hear the siren song, and he pushed his anger aside as he followed the music to its source, a smile lighting his face as he recognised the musician, not by her face which he could not yet see, but simply by her playing. He approached the clearing silently and listened appreciatively until the final notes faded away.

“Ai, Tariel, your music reflects your beauty, and the merry tune you played has lifted a heaviness from my spirit,” he said with a slight bow to the Elf maid as he settled beside her beneath the shade of the mellorn tree. Tariel blushed slightly, as she always did when Oropher gave her his attention, for not only was there warmth and affection in his eyes, but also a suggestion of hidden passion. She knew full well charmed all the maids he knew in the same way, and all felt the same effect as she, but none had yet won his heart.

“Thank you, Oropher. It pleases me to hear that you find solace in my music. I take it you have had another unpleasant discussion with the Lord and Lady?” she enquired candidly as she began playing the slightly more melancholy air she knew to be one of his favourite pieces. Oropher looked slightly startled at her perceptiveness, and the harp music was joined by the silvery sound of her laughter.

“You need not look so surprised, for many of us, both Sindar and Silvan, are aware of your strained relationship with your kinsman and his wife, although most are too polite to mention it,” she explained.

“But you are not?” he enquired, suddenly wondering why he had not taken more notice of this intriguing maid in the past. He knew she was an excellent cook, and harpist, but he now felt as if there seemed to be so much more to her. She was more than simply a maid he often had the pleasure to partner in the dancing that was part of the merrymaking of the Silvan Elves who also lived in Lórien.

Oropher had been one of the first of his kind to join in the almost nightly revels, but had soon been joined by other Sindar of like mind, including Tariel, and they had grown to love the simple way of life of the Wood Elves. Oropher was so entranced with these rustic people that he had taken the time to learn their language that, as far as he was concerned, possessed a simple yet elegant beauty. Silvan was a language of nature, untarnished by politics and strife of their more sophisticated kin, a language that allowed him to speak more eloquently with the trees.

“Oh, I am polite, but I am also direct. It is a useful trait in the kitchens,” she replied with a cheerful smile as if her choice of work explained everything.  Oropher sensed that she was one who was possessed of great wisdom and compassion to whom he could speak freely, and he decided to take her into his confidence, for he sorely needed someone to talk to at this moment.

“I have come from a rather brief evening meal with Celeborn and Galadriel,” he admitted, his brow creasing in distaste as he recalled how the evening had ended.

Galadriel and he were not friends, but tolerated each other out of love and respect for Celeborn yet as the evening wore on, the tension between the two had become palpable.  It seemed that they had a difference of opinion on just about every topic of conversation but tempers had flared when Galadriel sought to disparage his behaviour and love of the Silvan Elves, accusing him of having more loyalty for them than his own kin.

“I see no need to declare allegiance to anyone, even the self styled rulers of Lothlórien,” he pointed out rather heatedly.

“Not only are you are one of the Sindar nobles, but you are also kin of the Lord of the Golden Wood, surely he deserves your support,” she replied in her coldly arrogant voice.

“Celeborn has my respect, and my affection, but that does not mean I agree with him on this matter.  It may come as a surprise to you, but many of the other Sindar nobles share my feelings towards the Noldor,” answered Oropher equally as coldly and glaring unflinchingly at Galadriel. “As for my love of the Silvan Elves, I am not interested in ‘keeping up appearances’ and neither you or anyone else has the right to choose my friends. It is unlikely that they will bow to your rule, I might add, for they are free spirits and see no reason to change their way of life. I believe it is unjust of you to expect them to do so,” he added angrily. “Surely you agree with me in this, Celeborn?” he asked his kinsman, who had remained silent whilst the storm of words raged.

“Whether they accept my Lady and me as rulers of this realm is certainly their choice, but you are mistaken if you believe that by doing so their way of life will be changed,” he said.

“By her very attitude, Galadriel tells me differently. I believe you believe what you are saying, but I do not trust her,” he said, pointing to Galadriel and trying hard to prevent the hatred in his eyes from reaching his voice. “You may have lived in the Light of the Trees, but we are more than content to remain children of the stars, there is much that binds us to Arda.”

“Yet that is one of the reasons why you should accept me as your Lady, as is my due,” said Galadriel haughtily. Celeborn could have wished for a little less pride from both his wife and his kinsman, but wisely realised that it was time to put a stop to further argument.

“Perhaps it would be best if you left, Oropher, for there is obviously nothing more you two have to say to each other,” suggested Celeborn.

“There is but one thing… never will I swear allegiance to a Noldor!” swore Oropher through clenched teeth as he stormed out of the talan.

He did not hear Celeborn’s sigh of disappointment, nor feel his eyes watching him make his way into the forest, and he certainly did not see the small smile Celeborn allowed himself as he reflected on the notion that although neither would admit it, in their stubbornness, Oropher and Galadriel were of the same mould, and thus the conflict between the two would not be easily resolved.

“It seems to me that you are being shown as much disrespect for the way you choose to live as you are being accused of showing towards Galadriel and Celeborn’s rule,” she said, putting her harp aside to take Oropher’s hands in hers causing him to give her his full attention. “You must follow the path that has been set, no matter how difficult, just as they must, as is the will of the Valar.”

“Ai, you speak wisely, my lady,” he replied, his heart feeling a little lighter. They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer, ending it when their lips met in a sweet kiss that both sensed promised nothing more than a deep friendship.

“It seems we are not destined to travel the path of love together,” Tariel sighed sadly as they parted. “However, I hear there will be some new faces at the feast tomorrow evening.”

“Ai and I take it you think our true loves will be among them?” teased Oropher.

“Only the Valar know the answer to that,” laughed Tariel, accepting his hand as they made their way back to Calas Galadhon.

Later that evening, Oropher found sleep eluded him, for he was troubled more than he cared to admit by the increasing distance between himself and Celeborn.  Without conscious thought he made his way deep into the wood and climbed into the comforting bough of his favourite mellorn. The familiar noises of the night went unnoticed as he allowed his mind to wander back over the unpleasantness of the dinner, and the sweetness of Tariel. As he recalled her words, he realised that she had in fact subtly accused him of being disrespectful, and although he was prepared to admit that might be the case, his feelings remained unchanged. A wisp of cloud passed overhead, momentarily blocking the soothing touch of starlight on his face, and he was overcome with a sense of dread that darkness would cross his path. The starlight returned, and he shook off his foreboding, and lifted his voice in a song of praise for the beauty of the jewels of the sky.