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Far Horizons  by Bodkin

Far Horizons 28:  Journey’s End 

Finarfin observed the pale elf kneeling before him.  His wrists were bound, but even so, no-one was prepared to trust that he would not attempt to evade justice.  Guards stood close enough to ensure that he would not be able either to launch an attack or attempt to escape. 

The High King looked at the wad of paper before him.  ‘You have admitted that you have committed a range of offences against those who have done you no harm,’ he said sternly.  ‘You have caused deliberate injury with bow and arrow, you have incriminated the innocent, you have attempted to abduct elflings, you have incited discontent, you have used and destroyed those who trusted you – all in an attempt to wreak vengeance on a variety of people, most of whom had no idea that you existed, let alone that they had offended you.  There are those who have told me that you are not entirely to blame for your actions, and that what has happened in your past provides some excuse for you.’  He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.  ‘I have taken as much time as I feel is necessary to consider all I have learned,’ he said, ‘for this is not an occasion for hasty action.’

Minastan appeared not to hear him, remaining frozen in the position in which he had been placed.  When first imprisoned, he had plausibly and convincingly offered a range of reasons why he was innocent and demanded indignantly that he should be freed at once.  From that he had moved on to fluent and extensive justification for his actions, before he had shifted to spend long hours boasting about his ability to deceive.  It had seemed as if he had a desperate need to have his talent recognised and the mere presence of those writing down his words had been enough to keep them flowing from his tongue.  Once his rationalisation had stopped flowing from him, he had lapsed into a silent unresponsiveness that had chilled those who had tried to extract further information on accomplices and schemes as yet undiscovered. 

‘There is no question in my mind that you are a danger to all here in Valinor,’ the High King sighed.  ‘But I do question that you are fit to stand trial for the offences you have committed – and I also question whether all was done that should have been at the time when such action could have made a difference to your mental state.  However, it seems to me that none of the penalties customarily exacted in these lands is suitable either as punishment or as a means of redemption for you.  Consequently, I have decided that you will remain in secure custody until such time as we believe that you are able to resume life among us. Meanwhile, I will consult with a greater power to see if we can discover a better and more satisfactory solution.’

Finarfin nodded at the guards who drew Minastan to his feet and pulled him from the Great Hall. 

‘It is not an answer,’ the High King leant towards Thranduil, who scowled at his right hand, ‘but you failed to come up with anything better.  Stuffing him down the throat of a warg proved to be impractical, I am afraid.’  He patted the Woodland King’s arm.  ‘This will be less painful.’

A guard in formal livery marched Calion to kneel before the throne. 

Sitting back on his throne, Finarfin said, ‘Rise,’ and waited for the young elf to stand erect before him. 

‘You were accused of injuring Legolas Thranduilion,’ Finarfin spoke clearly, so that there was no possibility of any present claiming to misunderstand, ‘and wrongly convicted on evidence that was falsified by Minastan Terendulion.  King Thranduil and Lady Galadriel have both attested to your innocence – and consequently your conviction and the penalty resulting from it have been revoked.  You may go free.’

Although he was expecting the words, Calion flushed and then paled, before dropping to one knee.  ‘My King,’ he said.

‘In what way can the throne recompense you for your suffering?’ Finarfin asked formally.

‘I would remain with King Thranduil and travel with him to the new lands,’ Calion said hopefully. 

‘An easy boon to grant,’ the High King agreed. ‘The more so, as I wish to develop a greater understanding between our races.  It shall be done, Calion Artamirion.’

Calion rose and stepped back into the crowd, as the doors opened a third time.

‘Are you really intending to bring Macar before the formality of this full court?’ Galadriel enquired disapprovingly from beside the throne, as the guards led in the final candidate for justice.

‘It has to be seen to be done,’ her adar said wearily.  ‘He attacked another elf – with the intention of causing him serious injury.’

‘He was justified,’ she insisted.  ‘Minastan was responsible for Nessariel’s death.’

‘Did you turn my daughter into a savage with no respect for the rule of law,’ Finarfin asked his son-in-law, ‘or has she always been this way?’

‘I believe I have civilised her considerably,’ Celeborn replied amiably. ‘At least she is not shouting her opinion for everyone to hear.’

Thranduil snorted, then tried to pretend that he had not, but Galadriel’s frown made it plain that she was aware of his amusement.  ‘Wait and see, my lady,’ he said.  ‘You could always make a plea for mercy later, should it prove necessary.’

Macar knelt before the High King’s throne, his head bowed, as Finarfin regarded him soberly.  ‘Do you have anything you wish to say before I give judgment?’ he asked.

‘No, my lord King,’ Macar answered shakily.

Finarfin allowed the silence to deepen in the wide room, before standing and approaching the nervous elf.  ‘You have committed an act which cannot be treated anything but seriously,’ he said.  ‘But as elves we are aware that there are times when irrational behaviour can be – not justified, but understood.  There is no previous occasion when I have been called on to judge someone who has attacked the killer of his child.  In this exceptional case, I have decided to take no further action against you.  You may return home to your wife.’ 

The large number of elves observing the formal administration of the High King’s justice in response to the bizarre activities of recent months murmured its approval in a sound that started as a whisper but soon became a roar.

***

The sun shone brightly as they rode swiftly across the rolling downs towards their families, but the air held a crispness that had not been there on their westward journey.  Glorfindel had insisted that Legolas and the twins were not to travel unaccompanied – it was bad enough, he had stated, that they were returning several weeks before they were expected: he had no wish to discover that they had been intercepted and failed to return at all – but the guards were experienced warriors who made no objection to a fast ride with scant pauses for rest and rations.

Elrohir’s mood brightened as he grew closer to home and he could look forward to being reunited with his wife.  Elladan was relieved that his twin’s unusual irritability had faded like the wafer of ice on a spring puddle and he took pleasure in teasing him into revealing his excitement about the prospect of becoming the adar of twins.

On the other hand, he had worried about Legolas as they rode away from the forest.  His initial pallor and confusion had suggested that he had been more distressed at leaving his newly-discovered naneth than he had been prepared to admit, but the further behind them they left the forest, the more he seemed to regain his composure.

‘It is a shame we had to come away so quickly,’ Elladan said one evening before they wrapped themselves up in their bed-rolls.  ‘You should have been able to spend more time with Laerwen.  You were not happy when we rode away.’

‘Is that why you are being so careful with me?’ Legolas said in surprise.  ‘It had nothing to do with Naneth – I will be back before long and we will have more time then.  It was the forest.  Ever since Naneth introduced me as her son, the song has been so loud that I could hardly think.  In some ways it is a relief to have some time to become accustomed to the idea of it.’

‘It is powerful,’ Elrohir agreed.  ‘And it does not become excited at the very thought of me.  I suppose in time it will grow used to us.’

‘I am looking forward to being at home,’ Camentur leaned his head back and watched the stars.  ‘I have missed my wife and son more than I thought I would.’

‘Do you think we will be able to take them with us next time we go?’ Legolas asked wistfully.  ‘I would like Elerrina to see the forest before it begins to change too much.’

Elladan put a hand on his shoulder.  ‘I am sure we will, my friend,’ he said. 

***

Calion stood in the hallway of his adar’s house.  He had been publicly declared innocent of wrongdoing, but he had received no indication of apology from Artamir. It hurt, he admitted it to himself, but he could understand that his adar would have been insulted by his request to remain in Thranduil’s house.  However, that did not mean that he was going to walk away from his naneth without a word.  He had to brave this out – if his naneth would not see him, then she would have to tell him herself.

The housekeeper who had let him in had hugged him swiftly before going to seek Minyariel, and it had warmed him to know that some of those least able to speak out had apparently missed him and been glad of his vindication.

He scarcely recognised his naneth when she came to the top of the stairs.  She had lost weight and she appeared frail, but there was a resolution about her that he had not seen in a long time.  She did not hesitate, but took him straight in her arms and held him close.

‘My son,’ she whispered in his ear, and he could hear both the pain and the relief in her voice.  ‘I have missed you.’

‘I am not coming back, Naneth,’ he warned her.  ‘I am sorry.’

She pushed his hair back from his face and looked into his eyes.  ‘I understand,’ she said.  ‘You need to do what you think is right.  I only wish you could take Tarannon with you.’

‘How is he?’ Calion asked.  He had been glad to learn that Tarannon had finally steeled himself to reject the ploys that Minastan had used to entrap him.  He could be rather big-headed, he thought, but his brother was not actively unkind and he had found the treatment of Nessariel to be more that he was prepared to tolerate.

‘He is well,’ Minyariel shrugged.  ‘Not happy, but well.  It will take time.’  She paused, tightening her hold on her son.  ‘I am taking him to stay with your grandparents,’ she told him.  ‘I am not sure when we will return.’

‘Or if you will?’

She released him slowly, pulling his tunic to hang neatly.  ‘Or if,’ she agreed soberly. ‘I feel that this is all my fault.  If I had not run away from him as I did -.’

Calion put a finger on her lips.  ‘He would still have hated Lord Thranduil,’ he said. ‘He would still have tried to hurt anyone who had what he wanted – things to which he thought he was entitled.  Do not blame yourself.’

She shook her head.  ‘I have hurt you, my sons – and I have caused pain to your adar. It does not matter that I did not intend to do so.  It will take a long time and a lot of goodwill to try to mend the damage.’

‘Will Adar see me?’ Calion asked her softly.

‘I have sent word to him that you are here,’ she told him.  ‘Come now and sit with Tarannon and me.  All we can do is wait.’

When Calion entered his mother’s sitting room and saw Tarannon, he hugged his brother fiercely.  ‘I was worried for you,’ he said.  ‘Lord Celeborn said what had happened.  I am glad to see you looking so well.’

Tarannon smiled wryly.  ‘It was an experience I am not keen to repeat,’ he admitted. ‘And not as exciting as your own adventures, little brother.’  He looked keenly at the younger elf.  ‘Are you sure you want to journey west with the Wood Elves?  It seems rather too dangerous to me.’  He glanced at his naneth.  ‘I am only too happy to settle down to a peaceful life by the sea for a while.’

Artamir failed to join them.  Calion curbed his disappointment – after all, he had never been of much importance to his adar and now that he had chosen not to be an ornament of his house, he supposed he could hardly expect to receive his approval.

Finally, Calion rose and kissed his naneth.  ‘I will visit you again,’ he said, ‘as often as I can.’

‘Your adar -,’ she said and opened and closed her hands helplessly.

‘Will not stop me,’ he finished.

As he ran lightly down the stairs, the door to his adar’s office opened to let Artamir emerge into the wide hallway to stand stiffly on the black and white tiled floor.  Calion slowed, but lifted his chin and approached with apparent confidence.

‘Adar,’ he acknowledged, inclining his head with courtesy.

Artamir flicked his eyes to Minyariel, standing pale at the top of the stairs, before returning his gaze to the elf before him.  ‘You are welcome here, my son,’ he said awkwardly.

Colour flushed Minyariel’s cheeks and she forced her knees to stop shaking.  Perhaps there was some hope of improvement.  It would not be easy, but the thought that it might be achieved at all gave her some hope.

‘I cannot stay now, Adar,’ Calion said reluctantly.  ‘But I hope to see you soon.’

Artamir embraced him formally and placed a cool paternal kiss on his brow.  ‘I look forward to it, my son,’ he said and let him go.

***

Elrohir and Elladan and their guards peeled away from Legolas and his escort with few words as they headed rapidly for their home.

‘Do you think they know we are on our way?’ Elladan asked as the horses increased their pace in anticipation of reaching their stables. 

Elrohir grinned.  ‘I am doing my best to damp down my excitement,’ he admitted.  ‘I want to surprise Sirithiel.’

‘You do not want to give her too much of a shock,’ his brother laughed.  ‘It might not be good for her – not in her condition.’

‘It would be just our luck to find that they were out,’ Elrohir said.  ‘And that we will have to sit waiting for hours.’

They left their horses in the stable yard, unusually handing their care over to grooms and heading straight for the kitchen door.  They were met by the head cook, whose obvious pleasure at seeing them was not enough to make him grant them passage through his domain, dirty as they were.  ‘Oh no!’ he told them.  ‘Horses and dinner preparations have nothing in common.’  He smiled at them.  ‘Not that you need to come inside anyway.  They are on the lawn – under the beech.  Go quietly.  They are not expecting you.’

Even as they came within sight of the party under the tree, Sirithiel was on her feet and running towards them.  For all they were twins and many people still had difficulty telling them apart, she had no doubt and within seconds she was in Elrohir’s arms, holding him as if she would never be able to let him go again.  He clasped her to him, sliding his hand down her back and feeling the swell of her womb pressing into him.  He felt her weariness and, for a moment, experienced a flash of anger at his elders for having sent him away at this time.

Sirithiel reached up and touched her finger to his lips.  ‘You are home now,’ she murmured. A slow smile spread across her face and she drew his hand to touch her belly.  ‘Feel,’ she said softly.  ‘Your daughters are welcoming you.’

Elladan grinned and made his way towards his wife and son, catching Elrin as he sprang and throwing him up in the air.  ‘Well,’ he said.  ‘Here we are again.’

Miriwen looked him over carefully.  ‘You appear to be slipping, my husband,’ she told him, straight-faced.  ‘I see no sign of injury.  What am I expected to do to greet you if there is no need of my healing skills?’

‘Well,’ he drawled, tucking his giggling son under one arm and using the other to draw her to him, ‘I am sure that, if I put my mind to it, I can think of something.’

She ran her fingers through his dark hair and let his joyful song refresh her.  He was well and happy.  She leaned into him and placed a gentle kiss on his warm lips.  ‘I am happy to see you, my love,’ she said.

‘Although,’ Elrond pointed out, ‘your arrival is a little premature.’

‘We rode fast, Adar,’ Elladan told him seriously.

‘Not, I think, so fast that you could have arrived several weeks before you were due to leave Glorfindel.’

Elrohir and Sirithiel joined them, holding each other so close that Miriwen was somewhat surprised that they had been able to walk across the lawn.  ‘There have been – developments, Adar,’ Elrohir informed him, ‘that made an early return necessary.’

‘Good developments,’ Elladan added hastily.

‘On the whole,’ Elrohir added reflectively.

Elrond raised an eyebrow and, accustomed to his signals, they waited for him to speak.  ‘I will invite Thranduil and your grandparents to join us,’ he decided.  ‘We will share our information later – first you will want to bathe and change,’ he inhaled thoughtfully, ‘and spend some time with your wives.  I am happy to see you home and safe, my sons.’

***

Calion rose to his feet as Legolas entered the nursery.  Despite the fact that he was now officially cleared of attempting to injure the Woodland Prince, Calion stiffened warily, unsure how to react to the one whom he had sworn to obey.

Legolas stopped, his hair wind-blown and his cheeks still flushed from his long ride in the fresh air.  He brought with him the smell of the outside world to mingle with the scents of powder and freshly washed elfling that tended to linger in this room.  ‘Calion,’ he said, inclining his head.

‘My lord,’ Calion responded with a slight bow.

‘No longer, I believe,’ Legolas remarked.  ‘Adar tells me you have been most helpful – and that you are partly responsible for having kept the elflings safe.’  He paused. ‘I am grateful.’

Calion blushed and dropped his eyes.  ‘I could do nothing else, my lord,’ he said.  ‘I would not have any harm come to them.’

‘He felt your loyalty was of particular merit since you had not been treated too kindly by some members of the household.’  He looked sideways at the other.  ‘And I am of the opinion that my wife might have been one who was less than gentle.’

The dark-haired elf looked awkward.  ‘She is my cousin,’ he said.  ‘She felt that entitled her to – express her displeasure.’

‘In which case I appreciate your care of the little ones even more.’

‘Elflings need protecting regardless of other considerations, my lord,’ Calion said indignantly.  ‘I would do my best to help them no matter what!’

‘Adar says that Hithien has taken an interest in you,’ Legolas grinned. ‘I am not sure whether you appreciate that or not.’  He raised a hand to stop Calion replying. ‘I would rather not know,’ he added.  ‘I really would not want to annoy her.’  He wandered over to the window and sat down on the broad ledge.  ‘You are remaining in Adar’s household?’

‘If I may,’ Calion agreed.  ‘I would like to join in the new venture.’

‘On one condition,’ Legolas said firmly.  ‘You stop calling my ‘my lord’.  My name is Legolas.’

Calion hesitated.  ‘As you wish – Legolas.’

The door into the night nursery crashed open.  ‘Uncle Legolas,’ Surion shrieked, his cheeks pink from sleep, as he threw himself at his aunt’s husband.  ‘You are home!’

Legolas caught him automatically and swung him round. ‘Nephew Surion,’ he said, grinning. ‘I am happy to see you.’

‘Will you take me to the archery fields?’ Surion demanded.  ‘I have been working and working and I want to show you how well I am doing.’  He put his mouth next to his uncle’s ear.  ‘Hithien has had Calion teaching me,’ he whispered, ‘but he is not as good as you.  And Calion says that when things have settled down he will take me to the beach and we can make castles in the sand.  Have things settled down yet? – I want to dig a great big castle that the sea cannot wash away.’ 

Legolas glanced at Calion and grinned.  ‘That is very brave of him,’ he murmured in the elfling’s ear.  ‘Does he know into how much danger he is putting himself?’

‘You can come, too,’ Surion said kindly.  ‘We will take the elflings.  And Hithien will look after us.’

***

Celebrian dropped a kiss on the tip of Elrond’s ear, making him shiver.

‘I love doing that,’ she smiled.  ‘It makes me feel really powerful.’

Her warm breath tickled and he reached up to draw her round to sit on his lap. ‘You are really powerful,’ he told her.  ‘You turn my bones to water.’

‘Even after all these years?’

‘Now is even better.’  He tucked her head under his chin and trailed his finger down her ear and throat until the top of her gown stilled his hand.

‘What do you think of what the twins said?’ she asked idly.

‘They did not say much,’ he admitted.  ‘It seemed better to wait.  There is no need for either side to repeat their stories more than they must.’

‘And it did not look as if either of them could speak sensibly until they had had time to renew their bonds with their wives.’  She lifted her head and looked into Elrond’s smoke grey eyes.  ‘I know how they feel, Earendilion,’ she said.  ‘Their division has not lasted longer than a few weeks, but it is still a division.’  She ran her thumb across his lips before brushing it gently across his cheekbone and combing her fingers through his hair.  ‘Come, Peredhil.  I have something better for you to do than sit poring over these dull papers.’  

***

Legolas looked at his adar warily.

‘You have something to tell me, I think, my son,’ Thranduil said gently.

It had been clear to him, even as Legolas had swept Elerrina in his arms and swung her round, asking about his sleeping elflings and wanting to know about what had been happening in his absence, that his son had something on his mind. 

Even as Elerrina had sent her husband to speak to Calion, she and Thranduil had come to an unspoken agreement that she would keep everyone away until Legolas had been able to reveal to his adar whatever was worrying him.  Thranduil smiled to himself: with Elerrina and himself combining against him, Legolas might as well surrender at once.

His son drew a deep breath.  ‘When we arrived in the forest, Adar,’ he started, but then he stopped and cleared his throat, glancing at his adar’s face again.  He turned away, deciding that maybe this would be easier if he was unable to see the eyes on him.  ‘There is a very strong presence in the forest,’ he continued.  ‘There are elves with a very close tie to it – and they spoke of their Lady.  Glorfindel had not seen her, but -,’ he turned back to face his adar, ‘I could feel her in the trees.  Her song echoed in me.’  He risked a glance at Thranduil’s eyes and could see a dawning awareness there. 

‘She had us taken to see her, Camentur and me, Elladan and Elrohir.   The twins knew her at once, but she did not want them to tell me – she was afraid.  I guessed, Adar.’  He met Thranduil’s eyes squarely.  ‘Adar, the forest’s Lady is Naneth.  She has returned from Mandos and she is waiting for you.’ 

He paused.  He did not know how his adar would take this news.  Legolas had grown to adulthood with no knowledge of his naneth – to him she was no more than a faint recollection from his earliest years, but her absence had been a constant grief to Thranduil throughout almost his son’s whole life.  Only since his own marriage had Legolas begun to become aware how bereft his adar must have been by Laerwen’s loss and perceived how Thranduil was incomplete without her.  To learn that she had returned, but that she had not sought him out could be a devastating blow, even to an elf as confident in himself as the Woodland King.

The silence in the room was so complete that Legolas wondered if either of them was even breathing.  Then a small smile began to spread across his adar’s face and his eyes gleamed with the brightness of stars piercing a dark night.  ‘I hoped,’ he said softly, ‘that she would be.  I knew I would not find her here.’  He indicated with his hands, but his gesture encompassed more than the well-appointed room, spreading to include the organised streets and farmlands of this ancient land.

‘You do not mind?’ Legolas asked simply.

‘I know that you do not remember her,’ Thranduil replied, embracing his son gently and inviting him to sit beside him in the window, the golden sunlight brightening their hair.  ‘Laerwen is tied to the life of the forest even more closely than I am,’ he said.  ‘She is – wild and joyful and she needs to be free.  She hated being surrounded by stone – something you shared with her, my son, although you learned to overcome it somewhat,’ he added dryly. ‘She knew the forest was becoming unsafe, but she always believed it would protect her – and it did, as far as it could.’  He lost himself in brief recollection of the terrible day when his wife’s escape from the protection with which he had attempted to surround her had resulted in her death among the trees she loved, but which could not shelter her from the creatures of the dark.

‘I hoped that she might be here to greet me,’ he said, ‘but I did not expect it.  When Finarfin’s advisor spoke of these forests, it rang a bell in my heart – I knew that this was a place that would be a home to her.’  He drew a deep breath.  ‘What did she say to you, my son?’

‘She wrote to you, Adar,’ Legolas answered.  ‘She wants to see you as soon as you can arrange to go to her.’

Thranduil’s smile had a blinding brilliance.  ‘Do you think tomorrow would be too soon?’ he asked.

***

The gathering round the table seemed far more at ease than would have been the case only short months before, although that could have been because the most combative members of the group seemed strangely distracted.

Finarfin looked at them with amusement.  Elladan, he thought, would have preferred a more aggressive solution to the problem posed by Minastan, but Elrohir had seen the complications that would ensue.  Put together, he decided, his great-grandsons would make an excellent ruler – and eliminate the need for advisors, which could only be a good thing.  Legolas had looked at Thranduil as the story emerged, only too aware of the effects that Dagorlad still had on the elves of his adar’s realm, and seeing a sorrow that had fought with the Woodland King’s natural decisive ferocity.  Camentur had held back, clearly feeling that he and his wife – what was her name? – were here purely by chance, but the High King had seen a sharp intelligence in his eyes.  He would have to encourage Taryatur’s son to take up a role among these elves who had accepted him as part of their extended family.  Their wives were interesting as well and, different as they were, they seemed to share an understanding of far more than a simple female role.  He smiled:  it would be foolish to expect the sons of Celebrian and grandsons of Galadriel to marry ciphers, he thought – and Thranduilion was cut from the same cloth.

He sipped at his wine and listened to the conversation.  It was good to spend time with family.  It had been a long time since he and Earwen had been able to spend any period of time with a group of people clearly linked to them by blood and affection. He looked at Thranduil.  The blood tie was rather remote, he acknowledged, but the relationship between Galadriel and him reminded her adar only too clearly of her endless squabbles and debates with her brothers, with never a one of them prepared to concede an inch.  Irritating although it could be, he found their wrangling endlessly entertaining – and he rather suspected that they would themselves miss it.   He was afraid that he was going to have to adopt Thranduil as part of his extended family – whether the proudly independent elf liked it or not. 

The situation in the forest sounded more complicated than he had expected.  He really had not thought that the elves who had found their way there would have developed any level of organisation.  Silvan elves had always seemed to him to be more or less averse to the idea of a structured society.  And it turned out that their Lady was Thranduil’s wife and Legolas’s naneth.  It would be very interesting to know how that worked out.  He narrowed his eyes in thought.  He wondered how Galadriel would deal with a forest which had already enthroned the queen of its choice.  She had matured and seemed content in the role she had chosen for herself, but he was not sure that she was ready to take a secondary place.  He grinned.  He wished he could see it, but unfortunately he would be too busy with his own tasks.  He would just have to ensure that those sending him reports were capable of expressing themselves fluently enough to give him a good understanding of what was happening. 

Earwen touched his hand and he met her silver-blue eyes and smiled. 

***

‘Adar knew they were there,’ Galadriel said, as Celeborn closed the door of their rooms behind them. 

‘He is as devious as his daughter,’ Celeborn agreed as he shed the heavy robe of dove grey velvet embroidered with silver thread and shook his head to relieve the feeling of constraint always left by his mithril circlet.  ‘I do not believe he was aware of Laerwen’s presence.’

‘Not as Laerwen, perhaps,’ Galadriel agreed thoughtfully.  ‘Although he may have known of her as some disembodied Lady of the Forest.’  She turned to her husband, raising her eyebrows. ‘And what do you mean by suggesting that I am devious?’

‘Do you not recognise the description?’ he asked her innocently, opening the windows as far as they would go, letting in a trace of air fresh with the scent of night-flowering plants and filled with quiet song. 

She watched him and came to a sudden decision.  ‘Come, my lord,’ she said.  ‘Help me remove this elegant gown and then change into your hunting clothes.  It is a beautiful night and the stars are singing to me – now that we have done with the dangers of past weeks, I would like to find a glade among the trees tonight – if that would please you.’

His eyes met hers curiously.  ‘Devious,’ he repeated, ‘but generous.  Are you sure?  We have a very comfortable bed here.’

‘But I want the wind in my hair,’ she told him, ‘the grass beneath my feet, the voice of the trees in my ears – and night’s canopy above my head.’ Her voice dropped to a sultry softness.   ‘And my husband in my arms.’

He closed his arms round her and began to unfasten the lacing on her gown of softest sage-green.  ‘I think I can oblige you,’ he murmured, ‘on all counts.’

‘Then let us find ourselves a brief haven in the woods,’ she suggested, ‘until we can find a lasting home in the forest.’

He smiled and the light from the moon gleamed in his eyes.  ‘A temporary solution,’ he told her with mock reluctance.  ‘But it will do for now.’  He rested his forehead against hers.  ‘We have the opportunity to build again, my love,’ he told her.  ‘And we will do it better this time.’

‘We will do better,’ she echoed, and in her voice was the promise of the new dawn.

 





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