I borrow characters and setting from Tolkien. I gain no profit from their use other than the enriched imaginative life I believe he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.

*******

11.  Thranduil

Eilian’s eyes came gradually into focus.  He lay for a moment, looking at the familiar sight of the weapons hanging on his chamber wall and hearing someone’s soft breathing behind him. Celuwen! he thought and rolled over to find his wife asleep next to him, clad in a sea green night dress with silver leaves embroidered around the neckline. He could not resist reaching out and brushing her unbound hair from her face.  “I love you,” he murmured, and her eyes slid from side to side a little and then came to rest on him. A slow smile spread over her face.

“I love you,” she said, and he laughed for pure joy and put his lips to hers.

She slid her hand over the bare skin of his back, sending shivers down his spine.  “Do you never wear a night tunic?” she asked with her mouth still against his.

“Not usually.  When I am on patrol, I sleep in my clothes, and I enjoy being in bed while out of them when I am home.”

She laughed softly.  “Do not change on my account,” she said, sliding her hand lower.

He sucked in his breath sharply. “What a wicked female you are,” he said, continuing to drop small kisses on her mouth while he tried to undo the far too numerous tiny buttons at the top of her night dress.  His fingers were clever, but he was far too impatient to undo the fiendish little things.

With a cry of frustration, he grasped Celuwen around the waist and rolled onto his back with her on top of him. Then he began tugging at the night dress, pulling it up around her waist.  Her hair hung around their faces, making a curtain that shut out the rest of the world.  She lowered her mouth to his and slid her tongue between his lips.  He moaned and caressed her warm bottom, making her arch her back in response.

A knock sounded at the door, and they froze with their eyes locked.

“Eilian?” came Ithilden’s voice. “Eilian, are you there?”  The door knob rattled, and Celuwen had time only to roll off him and drag the covers up to her chin before Ithilden entered the room.  He came around the open door and then, for a moment, stood staring at them, apparently unable to take in what he was seeing.  Then he flushed and hastily turned his back.

“One of the guards said you were home,” he stuttered. “Adar wanted to know if you were coming to morning meal.”

Before Eilian could answer, Celuwen spoke up.  “We will be there shortly, Ithilden,” she said.

Ithilden paused.  “You two have bonded?” he asked cautiously, without turning around.

“Yes,” said Eilian.

There was a second’s silence and then, with amusement in his voice, Ithilden said, “I have never questioned your nerve, Eilian.  Congratulations, brother. The Valar have truly blessed you. I only hope you survive to enjoy your good fortune.”

Eilian could see Celuwen looking uncertainly at him, and he smiled reassuringly at her.  “I gather that the guard did not say that Celuwen was here,” he said to Ithilden’s back.

“No, he did not.  I assume he did not want to be around to see the fireworks when Adar heard that particular piece of news. No offense, Celuwen,” he added. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” said Celuwen.  She was looking worried though, and Eilian reached to take her hand.

Ithilden moved toward the door. “If you do not mind, I think I will not tell Adar about Celuwen either.  You can tell him yourself, Eilian.”

“Of course,” said Eilian, trying to sound braver than he felt.  If Ithilden was too cowardly to tell Thranduil what he had found in Eilian’s chamber, then he was anticipating an even stronger reaction from Thranduil than Eilian had been worried about.  Eilian’s breathing tightened.  “I will be there soon.”

As soon as Ithilden was out the door, Celuwen slid from the bed and started toward the bathing chamber.  “Wait,” Eilian protested, untangling himself from the covers. “You should stay here, Celuwen. It would be best if I spoke to Adar alone.”

“No,” she said firmly, starting the water running for a bath.  “You came with me to speak to my parents. I will go with you.”

Eilian’s dismay rose. “My adar is going to be very angry, Celuwen.  Even apart from any offense he takes from the fact that we bonded without ceremony, I was supposed to get your parents’ permission before we became betrothed, and Adar said he thought the betrothal should last more than the customary year.”

She looked startled for a moment.  Then she shrugged. “Your adar was wrong,” she said, and then pulled her night dress off over her head and stepped into the bath.

Eilian stared at her, almost as struck by her dismissal of his father’s orders as he was by the beauty of her body.  Then, with a desperate need he had not known he was feeling, he climbed into the tub after her and reached for this amazing female who was now his wife.

***

Holding Celuwen’s hand in his, Eilian opened the door to the dining chamber and led his wife into the room where his family sat.  They all turned to him, their faces ready with cheerful welcomes home, and then, abruptly they froze, and he saw knowledge blossoming in their gazes.  He scanned them worriedly.  Legolas was not here, he noted immediately and realized from the dismay he felt that he had been counting on his younger brother to be an ally.  Legolas was the least likely of any member of his family to criticize Eilian’s behavior at any time.

Of course, Ithilden’s earlier words suggested that he might be sympathetic too.  Eilian glanced at his brother, who had drawn his chair back a little from the table and was watching everyone else’s reaction with a slightly ironic look. 

Next to him, Alfirin had risen with a puzzled look on her face, as if she intended to welcome Celuwen as an unexpected guest.  Then she had stopped, looked from Celuwen to Eilian and back again, and abruptly sat down. Ithilden took hold of one of her hands and began to stroke it lightly.  Eilian looked at her a little pleadingly.  He was not certain how his sister-in-law was going to react to the news he brought.  She had high standards of behavior and tended to be traditional.  She sat now, with her eyes wide, biting her lower lip.

Finally, reluctantly, Eilian’s eyes moved to his father, seated silently at the head of the table. A flush was creeping up Thranduil’s neck, and his face was immobile and shuttered. His blue eyes were cold as he looked straight at Eilian.  “I suppose I should not be surprised, although I had hoped you were at last growing up, Eilian.” Celuwen’s hand tightened on Eilian’s.

“I present my wife to you, Adar,” Eilian said with determination. He would not quarrel openly with his father if he could help it, but he rejoiced in his marriage and he would not deny that.

Thranduil’s mouth pressed in a thin line, but then he looked at Celuwen.  Eilian glanced at her too. She stood erect, and while she did not look defiant, she did not look cowed either.  Yet to Eilian it was obvious that she was upset by the tense atmosphere into which they had just walked.  Thranduil seemed to sense her discomfort too, and his face softened.  He rose and beckoned to her, and she let go of Eilian’s hand and walked tentatively toward him.  “I wish it had been done with more ceremony, but Eilian could not have chosen better.  Welcome, daughter,” Thranduil said and kissed her brow.

Eilian suddenly relaxed a little. It was obvious to him that his father was still seething, but whatever Thranduil had in store for Eilian, he did not intend to take his anger out on Celuwen.  His father had always liked her, Eilian knew.  He just had not thought that Eilian was in any position to bond with her.

Alfirin was in motion now, going to the door to summon a servant to set an extra place.  “Sit here, Celuwen,” she invited, motioning her to a chair next to Eilian’s normal place.  She suddenly paused in her bustling about, and, rather shyly, darted up to Celuwen and embraced her. Eilian felt a flood of gratitude for the effort that Alfirin was making, for what he could only assume was his sake.  From the tense look on her face, he did not think that she was accepting this precipitous bonding easily.  Celuwen looked startled but pleased and sat down, turning her head to look at Eilian, obviously waiting for him to sit beside her. Alfirin returned to her own place, and Ithilden smiled at her and patted her hand.

Eilian stood alone now, looking at his father, who had reseated himself but kept his gaze on Eilian.  “Sit down, Eilian,” Thranduil finally said, his voice cool.  “I will speak with you after the meal.”  Eilian moved slowly toward his chair.  He would sit, but he doubted if he would be able to eat, not until he and his father had had things out.

Celuwen glanced at Eilian anxiously as he seated himself next to her.  “If this is about Eilian and me, my lord, you should speak to both of us,” she said.  And aware as he was of the tension in the room, Eilian could not help breaking into a wide grin at this brave, foolish female he had married.

Thranduil looked at her from under half lowered eyelids.  “This is not about Eilian and you, my dear. It is about Eilian and me.”   Alfirin began serving porridge from the tureen in the middle of the table.  She ladled some into a bowl, started to offer it to Celuwen, and then suddenly looked intently at her and added another ladle of the thin stuff before she set the bowl down in front of her. She put the bowl of honey down within Celuwen’s reach and began to fix a bowl for Thranduil.

“Where is Legolas?” Eilian asked.

“I sent him to deliver an emergency share of food to the Elves who live in the settlement along the Forest River at the eastern edge of the forest,” Thranduil answered, accepting a bowl from Alfirin.

“But he was on leave,” Eilian could not help protesting.  He knew only too well how serving in the Southern Patrol wore on warriors, and he had seen how much Legolas was enjoying the small pleasures of home.

“I know that, Eilian,” Thranduil said sharply.  “But it could not be helped.  I needed to send him to show my concern for the settlers. Legolas knew his duty and was happy to do it.”  Eilian heard the stress his father put on Legolas’s name and knew that Thranduil meant him to hear the approval for Legolas, in contrast to the displeasure his father was feeling with him.  Celuwen looked back and forth between them, and Eilian forced himself to smile at her.  She still looked uncertain, but then she drew in a deep breath.

“Is that the settlement that Anyr leads?” she asked.  She seemed determined to behave as normally as possible, as if that would somehow ease the tension she was probably feeling around her.

“Yes,” said Thranduil, turning to her. “Do you know him?”

She nodded.  “They used to live closer to us, but many of those people loved the river’s song, so the entire group moved to be near it.”  She smiled at some memory.  “Anyr is completely impractical, but he does have a deep love of Arda.”

Thranduil grimaced. “He is difficult to deal with,” he said shortly.

“Yes, he is,” Celuwen acknowledged. “You have to know how to approach him, or you will get nowhere.  And there are some things you can simply never expect him to do.”

Alfirin offered Eilian a bowl of porridge, but he shook his head.  He knew he was too tense to eat it, and wasting food was unthinkable.  He could feel Thranduil glance at him, but he kept his eyes resolutely away from his father.  He did not need to see Thranduil’s face to know that he still looked angry.  Eilian could hear it in his father’s voice.

There was a moment’s silence, and then Thranduil said, “I have not seen your parents in some time, Celuwen.  They will undoubtedly miss you.”  Eilian glanced at Ithilden, who grimaced a little. Both of them had spent too many years watching Thranduil in court not to recognize that their father was questioning Celuwen, even though he was not asking questions.

Celuwen nodded. “I think they will. I will miss them too.”

“They will be reconciled to your loss if they think you are happy though,” Thranduil said. Eilian looked at his father sharply now. 

Celuwen’s brow puckered slightly.  “They are worried about what I will do when Eilian is away, I think.”

Thranduil continued spooning up the thin porridge and looking sympathetic.  “I expect they are. I am a little surprised they consented to your marrying without the betrothal period, because that would have given you and Eilian some time to work these things out.”

“They did not consent,” Celuwen said simply. “My naneth was willing, but I do not think my adar ever would have agreed to a betrothal.”

Thranduil put down his spoon with careful control and turned to Eilian.  “You did not seek her parents’ consent?”

“I did,” Eilian protested.  “But as you said yourself, Adar, there was no way I was ever going to be acceptable to Sólith.”  Across the table, Ithilden flinched, and Eilian suddenly realized that he had allowed his tone become sharp.

Celuwen turned toward him, evidently startled by his tone.  Thranduil drew a deep breath and rose, drawing the rest of them to their feet too. “Perhaps we should go to my office and talk now, Eilian,” he said, his voice tight.  Eilian’s stomach muscles tensed, but he nodded as calmly as he could.  He did not want to alarm Celuwen. He wanted her as far away as possible when his father made it clear exactly how displeased he was with Eilian.

Celuwen seemed ready to protest, but Thranduil cut her off firmly. “Celuwen, you and Eilian cannot live in his current chamber. You need a suite of some sort.  Alfirin, if you are finished eating, would you show Celuwen rooms that you think could be made suitable?”

“Of course, Adar,” Alfirin said immediately.  It was plain to Eilian that, like him, she was eager to keep Celuwen away from the confrontation that she knew only too well was about to take place. “Come,” she invited gently, putting her arm around Celuwen’s waist and coaxing her out the door.  “I am so glad that I will have another female around.”

Celuwen looked back over her shoulder at Eilian.  He smiled reassuringly at her, and she stood for a moment looking at him with a level gaze.  They were not fooling her, Eilian realized.  “Please,” he said, knowing that he was asking something difficult of her. She paused briefly, with her eyes still on him.  “Please,” he repeated, and she seemed to resolve to trust him, for she nodded and allowed Alfirin to lead her away.

“Ithilden, will you tell my advisers that I will be delayed?” Thranduil asked, and Ithilden nodded.

The three of them went to the door together, and when Eilian and Ithilden stood aside to allow Thranduil to pass through first, Ithilden caught at Eilian’s sleeve and spoke softly.  “Hold your tongue, Eilian. Let Adar say what he has to say and look as respectful as you can while he says it.  He likes her, and he wants the best for you, but you have to refrain from provoking him further.”

Eilian looked at him gratefully.  Ithilden himself was responsible to a fault and believed that the needs of the realm easily outweighed his own desires, so Eilian had not known how he would react to Eilian’s hasty bonding.  He could not quarrel with the wisdom of the advice Ithilden gave him; he only doubted his ability to follow it. I will do it for Celuwen’s sake, he thought determinedly.

With a last sympathetic look at Eilian, Ithilden went off toward the door leading out of the family’s living quarters, and with his breath quickening slightly, Eilian followed Thranduil into his office. His father shut the door behind them and walked across the room to stand in front of the fireplace.

“On your knees, Eilian,” he ordered grimly.

Eilian drew a deep breath and obeyed.  He had been on his knees to his father before over matters that were far less important to him than Celuwen was.  He had stood it then and he could stand it now.

“Do you have any memory at all of what I told you before you left for the settlement?” Thranduil asked, beginning to pace with what Eilian recognized as the fury his father had restrained only with difficulty for the last half hour.

“Yes,” Eilian answered.  He kept his eyes lowered.  He intended to look as submissive as he possibly could.  No matter what happened, nothing could undo the bond he and Celuwen had formed. Beyond that, nothing mattered very much.

“Then what were you thinking?” Thranduil demanded. “Surely it has not escaped your notice that you have a duty to tread carefully with our people because you are my son. This is not just a matter of avoiding scandal that the gossips will pick over, Eilian. You have a duty to behave as if the desires of those you defend are important to you, as if you would never dream of abusing the position you are in by taking from them that which they would not wish to give!”

“But what about Celuwen’s and my wishes?” Eilian could not stop himself from asking.  “We are not children, Adar.  Were we to have no chance at happiness because Sólith refused his consent?”

Thranduil flung himself into the chair behind his desk. “And if there is trouble in that settlement because of this, if they break with us, am I to say it matters not because your wishes have been fulfilled?” he asked forbiddingly.

Eilian bit his lip.  “I do not think that will happen,” he said unhappily, “but I cannot be certain. I was not there very long.  Sólith made my ‘unacceptability’ clear quite quickly.”  Eilian could hear the bitterness in his own voice and suddenly realized that he had been hurt when Thranduil had implied that he could never be acceptable as a suitor for Celuwen.  He pushed the feeling aside.  It did not matter if Thranduil and Sólith both thought he was unacceptable; Celuwen had accepted him anyway, and that was all that counted.

Thranduil grimaced and to Eilian’s utter astonishment said, “Sólith has always been blind to your worth.”

Eilian felt a sudden surge of hope.  “Adar, there is something else, too,” he went on pleadingly. He looked earnestly into Thranduil’s face, wanting his father to understand. “Celuwen was fading.”  Thranduil looked at him sharply, and Eilian could see him searching his memory of how Celuwen had looked that morning and suddenly recognizing the truth of what Eilian was telling him.  “You saw her,” Eilian urged. “You can see that she has been ill.”

“Yes,” Thranduil murmured, with his brows drawing together in dismay. “I can.”  Then he shook himself and compressed his mouth in a thin line, and Eilian could see how angry he still was.  “I acknowledge that you may have had reasons to bond without Sólith’s consent, Eilian, but were you in such haste that you could not even wait to have the ceremonies performed here at home?”

“I did not think of that,” Eilian sighed.  He shifted his weight a little.  The kneeling position was beginning to make his hip ache.

“You did not think,” Thranduil agreed. “And you have simply never seen any reason you should not have something you wanted. Eilian, how can you be so consistent and trustworthy as a captain of this realm and so unpredictable in your personal life? Do you not think of the consequences of your actions? Do they not occur to you? Must you leap into action without counsel?”

Eilian hesitated.  “What would you have counseled if I had come home with Celuwen unbonded, Adar?”  In Eilian’s opinion, Thranduil would have put Celuwen in one of the palace’s guest rooms and left her there for the foreseeable future.

“I do not know,” Thranduil declared, “and neither do you.  But we would both at least have had time to consider the wisdom of your bonding now.  You have acted in haste your whole life, Eilian, and you alone know how many times you have lived to regret that.   Can you not learn from experience?  Explain to me how your mind works, Eilian, because you frustrate and confuse me!  You are so like your naneth at times that it frightens me!”

Eilian stared at his father in surprised silence. What was this about his mother?  Thranduil too seemed startled by his own words, for he drew a quick breath and seemed to withdraw into himself.

Someone knocked on the door. “Who is it?” Thranduil demanded, rousing himself.

“Ithilden.”

“Come,” Thranduil bade him, and behind him, Eilian heard the door open and Ithilden enter the room.

“Your advisers are waiting in the Great Hall, Adar,” Ithilden said.  “And a message has come from one of the border patrols that I need to speak to you about.”

“I will be there momentarily,” Thranduil told him, and Eilian could hear Ithilden withdrawing.  Thranduil rose. “We are not finished yet, Eilian, but I must go. You may get up.”

Eilian rose stiffly to his feet, keeping his face impassive. Thranduil looked dismayed. “Is your hip hurting you?”

“It is nothing,” Eilian said. He did not want his father to think he was complaining in an attempt to earn his sympathy.

Thranduil sighed.  “Go and rest,” he ordered and started to leave the room.  Suddenly Eilian found that he could not let his father go without trying to make some move toward peace.  “Adar, I cannot say that I am sorry that Celuwen and I are married, but I am sorry I offended you,” he said unhappily. Thranduil turned to him, his face unreadable.  “I accept all the blame for this,” Eilian went on.  “And I hope we can we keep Celuwen out of any further…”  He groped for a word. “Discussion,” he finished.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow.  “Celuwen has never struck me as someone who will allow others to dispose of her very easily. You may find that she insists on being here.”

“Nonetheless, I would like to try,” Eilian said.

Thranduil nodded with something like approval in his face and then followed Ithilden from the room.  Eilian drew a deep breath.  His father’s anger was not spent yet, but the worst was probably over.  He went out into the hall and then went in search of Celuwen.

As he started down the hall, he found himself wondering what his father had meant in saying he was like his mother and that fact frightened Thranduil.  He knew he was far more like his mother than he was like Thranduil.  She had understood his restlessness, his impulsiveness, and his love of adventure because she had shared those qualities.  He missed her more than he could say even now.  When he thought of it, he supposed in some ways it was those shared qualities that had led to her death when she had been too impatient to wait for the escort Ithilden was sending and had ridden out with only two warriors and met a troop of Orcs. It had never before occurred to him that his father might be alarmed at seeing those qualities in him. He was a warrior after all. He could take care of himself. And if those qualities did frighten his father, he did not see how he could change, he thought a little despairingly. He was what he was.

He found Celuwen and Alfirin near the door to his own chamber and put thoughts of his mother and father aside.  Celuwen looked a little anxious, and she hugged him fiercely.  “Are you all right?” she asked.

He suddenly realized that she must have felt his distress through their bond.  “I am fine,” he assured her and found that her presence made it so. “Did you find a likely set of rooms?”

“I cannot imagine living in any of them,” she declared. “What would we do with all that space?”

“Have elflings?” he suggested and then grinned when she blushed.

“Celuwen should rest now,” Alfirin said firmly. “She is tired. Why did you not tell me she had been ill, Eilian?”

Celuwen looked surprised. “How did you know that?” she asked.

“My naneth is a healer,” Alfirin said.  “In these dark days, I have seen her caring for far too many sad people not to recognize what was wrong with you.”  She glanced at Eilian and smiled slightly.  “I take it you have found good medicine?” she asked Celuwen.

Celuwen laughed. “Yes, I have,” she said.

Eilian put his arm around her. “Come,” he said. “We will nap.”  He started to lead her toward his chamber, feeling happier than he had all morning.

“Eilian, she should rest,” Alfirin said, stressing the last word.

“Eilian needs to rest too,” Celuwen said firmly.  “His hip is hurting.”

Alfirin threw up her hands. “Very well,” she conceded laughing. “I was a newlywed once too.”  Eilian grinned and drew Celuwen into his chamber, closing the door behind them.