Disclaimer:  All of the major characters (with the exception of a few of my own) and the setting belong to JRR Tolkien.  I only visit his world from time to time.

Summary:  Darius meets the King – the King is surprised.

A/N:  At this point, I would like to say that I have been influenced and inspired by the tales of life and governance in Eryn Galen through the excellent writing of several different LotR authors (mainly at SoA), in addition to a very detailed unit on the Middle Ages that I taught my classes at school over a period of 5 years.  The pomp and pageantry accorded to a King, the order needed to maintain such a large community, the headache it must have been to keep track of all the little aspects of government, with the addition of escalating danger brought about by an advancing evil…it boggles the mind.  I do so admire the Elvenking and his people!  *heartfelt sigh*  (This chapter was once a part of Chapter 4 – NiRi suggested I split it in two since it was quite long, so everyone does not have to wait on me for the usual three weeks…or four…for an update. *sigh*)

Chapter 5:  A Brave New World

                   “Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until

                    they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”

                                                                                  --Anaís Nin

Three days later, two weary riders stopped by a stream a short distance from the huge, double doors of the Elvenking’s stronghold.

“You wanted to know when we were almost there, Darius,” Aravir said.  “This stream is less than an hour removed from the palace.”

“Good.” 

Aravir watched, a perplexed look stealing over his face as the man dismounted and led his horse to the stream.  Hobbling the big animal to curtail any wandering, Darius began digging through his saddlebag.  Aravir threw one leg over his horse and perched on the broad back, staring at his confusing companion. 

Darius paused long enough to laugh at the elf’s expression.  “Ye may be able to travel for several days and still look as if ye could attend a royal feast.  I’ve not seen a hair out of place on yer head, Commander, and I would swear that ye don’t even sweat.” 

“Oh, but I do perspire.”  Aravir wrinkled his nose a bit, the action bringing a bark of laughter from the man. 

“You do, do ye?” Darius snorted.  “Well, it is near invisible to my way of lookin’.  As for me, I am filthy!”  He swept an arm across his grimy forehead and grimaced.  “And besides that, I reek!  I’ll not meet yer King lookin’ like this!” 

He returned to his search…for clean clothing, Aravir supposed, given the explanation he had just heard.  Sighing, he jumped to the ground and released his horse to graze and take what water he wanted.  Do not go far, Gwathion.  We shall not be here too long…you will have fresh grain and a comfortable stable before the afternoon turns to evening.  An elegant horse the color of mist and shadow, Gwathion nudged his rider’s shoulder before moving to the stream for a long drink of the shade-cooled water. 

Aravir made certain Darius was occupied with his bathing before leaping into the lower branches of a nearby beech tree.  He climbed until he reached a vantage point that afforded him a clear view of the clearing, the stream, and the surrounding area before settling against the tree’s trunk to keep watch.  The welcoming murmur of the old beech sank into his very bones, loosening tense muscles and energizing his weary body.  He closed his eyes for a moment, resting his cheek against the rough bark and sighing.

Nothing restored him more quickly than the forest’s song.  He had been so preoccupied with reaching Darius and later, bringing him safely through the woods, that he had neglected to absorb in full the music that surrounded him.  And before that, most of his time had been spent in the stronghold, attending his lord and coordinating the patrols of the realm.  He had had little opportunity to just sit among the giants of the forest and breathe…to feel the heartbeat of Eryn Galen and allow it to work its own brand of magic on his spirit. 

A vigorous splash from the stream caught his attention and he opened his eyes to check on Darius.  A reluctant smile tugged at his lips as he watched the man, clad only in his smallclothes, hip deep in the water, scrubbing the dust and grime from his body and hair as he sang a lilting song praising his lover’s eyes in a pleasing, if slightly off-key, baritone. 

The man had turned out to be a pleasant surprise – easy to talk to and amusing, with his stories of a youth spent in Esgaroth with three older siblings and all the trouble they managed to stir up.  Aravir’s smile deepened.  It was about time the King met a mortal that did not fit his preconceived notions.  Legolas’ description of Darius had been accurate – though incomplete.  You really had to meet the man to appreciate his character. 

“Aravir!  I’ll be ready to leave shortly!” Darius gave a shout from below, slipping on his clean shirt before tugging a wooden comb through his dripping hair.  Aravir stretched, standing on the branch as he prepared to descend and complete his mission.  Yes, he was looking forward to Thranduil’s reaction.

                                                                     XXX

“The King does speak Westron, doesn’t he?”  At the whispered question, Aravir paused to look at the pale face of his companion. 

“Fluently.”  Instead of reassuring, Aravir noted his words only made the man stiffen, and if possible, pale even further. 

The Commander stopped short of the huge doors leading into the stronghold, out of earshot of the standing guards, and gazed into worried indigo eyes.  “Deep breath, Darius.” 

He waited for the man to comply.  “Now, watch me.  The herald will announce us and we will approach the King.  Bow when I bow and wait for him to acknowledge you before you speak.” 

“Don’t think much will be comin’ out of my mouth,” the nervous man muttered. 

Aravir clapped him on the shoulder.  “Be yourself, Darius.  Speak truth to him - he would know if you tried to embellish your words.  You will be fine.” 

“Huh.  Easy words for ye to speak, Commander.”  Darius straightened his tunic one last time and nodded to the elf at his side.  “Let’s go, then.” 

At a gesture from Aravir, the guard at the entrance opened the doors.

                                                                    XXX

“The mortal, Darius, is here, my lord,” the herald announced.

The Elvenking of Eryn Galen, Thranduil Oropherion, looked up from his perusal of the list of applicants for trade within his realm. 

“This is the man Aravir was charged to bring to us?” he asked, observing the formalities while inside a little voice was complaining.  Finally they are here!  About time. 

The herald nodded respectfully.  “Aye, Sire.  The Commander accompanies him.”

King Thranduil motioned him back to his post and returned the list to Baranthor.  “A most comprehensive – and abbreviated – list, my friend.  I am pleased to see several names from the original have been eliminated through the interviews conducted by you and Berenthil.  We will take this up at the next council meeting, Baranthor.  See to it that each of the interested parties is notified.”

Baranthor took the list, replying, “I will see to it at once, Thranduil.”  As he turned to leave, Thranduil laid a lightly restraining hand on his shoulder, turning him around.

The advisor lifted one questioning eyebrow at his King, who smiled.  “Stay, my friend.  You know I have been waiting impatiently to meet this human who made such a positive impression on my son.  Legolas has requested that he be rewarded for his service to the realm.”

“Indeed?” Baranthor murmured, his surprise evident.  Thranduil had not mentioned that little fact in the meeting when he had shared the contents of Legolas’ letter with his councilors.  “I will gladly stay to witness this auspicious event, then.”

Thranduil chuckled at his friend’s somewhat sarcastic tone, returning to his seat as he raised his hand, a signal to the door warden to admit the human and his elven escort.  Legolas’ letter had been adamant that the man was owed some form of reward or recognition for his aid to both the Southern and the Eastern patrols.  Legolas, a most loving and faithful son, seldom demanded anything of his royal father, and remained constant in his loyalty to his King and his people.  Small wonder upon reading his report that Thranduil had decided immediately to give the situation his undivided attention.

Thranduil leaned back in his big chair as Baranthor assumed a position behind and to his left.  He looked over his shoulder, whispering, “I am trying to keep an open mind about this.  You, above all, know how difficult that is.  Still, Legolas has insisted.  I want you to watch and listen carefully, old friend.  If you see or hear anything which seems amiss, I want to know about it.” 

Thranduil paused.  “And if I seem unreasonable, I want to know about that, too.” 

He shot a wry grimace at the elf that had remained steadfast beside him during some of the worst times of his life and added, “A raised eyebrow or an odd look will do as a signal, I think.”  Baranthor grinned and nodded as the King turned to await the arrival of their ‘guest’.

Seconds later, the tall double doors leading into the Great Hall swung open and an imposing elf clad in the greens and browns of the Wood Elves entered, accompanied by a tall, sturdy, ebony-haired young man.

The first thing the King noticed about the man was his piercing blue eyes.  The second thing was his apparent curiosity and interest in his surroundings.  Those avid, intelligent eyes missed nothing and the human’s awed delight was almost palpable.  Then there was the surprising fact that, unlike many of the mortal visitors he often met, this one had obviously taken some care with his appearance.  He was clean, his long hair still damp from a recent washing, and dressed in simple, well-made clothing.  Thranduil straightened.  Seldom did men realize the importance of first impressions on their elven hosts...often to their detriment.  Perhaps there was more to this man than just a simple peasant who had happened to be in the right place at the right time to garner the attention of his only son.

His gaze shifted to the commanding elf at the man’s side, catching Aravir’s verdant gaze immediately.  A gaze that was bland and noncommittal.  Thranduil snorted to himself, his eyes narrowing as he noted a very faint lifting of the Commander’s lips.  Stubborn, secretive elfling!  So he will let me form my own opinions, will he?  The King returned to his study of the human pacing by Aravir’s side.  The two stopped many feet away from the low dais upon which the King’s chair sat, each dropping to one knee, heads bowed in respect. 

“Rise,” Thranduil ordered, gesturing them forward once they stood upright again.  He looked at Aravir, his expression expectant.

“My lord King, may I present Darius, son of Olwain?” Aravir introduced the man, stepping back once his duty was complete.

The young man bowed once more, murmuring, “Yer majesty.”  He lifted his eyes to the King and Thranduil was again struck by the straightforward, fearless gaze.

“Be welcome, Darius.  I have been looking forward to meeting you since receiving my son’s letter.”

Darius flushed slightly.  “The Prince is too kind, sire.”

Thranduil, increasingly impressed by the man’s humble air and careful courtesy, replied, “Oh, I can assure you, he is not.  Prince Legolas could not embellish a situation if his life depended on it.  It is not in his nature.”  

The man shifted a little under the intent stare of the Elvenking.  “You intrigue me, Darius,” Thranduil stated, his voice soft, thoughtful as he came to a swift decision.  Plans to reward the man only half-formed in his mind at that point solidified and became reality.  Legolas approved of this man…Aravir approved, and that was no small concession from his serious, security-minded commander.  And I can sense no deceit in him…only the curiosity of a child and a healthy respect and admiration for us.  Thranduil could now proceed without doubt.  “Might you remain with us for a time?” 

Darthon started at this unexpected invitation and Thranduil sensed Baranthor’s sharp intake of breath.  Even the impassive Commander’s eyes widened at the king’s words. 

“Yes, sire, if that be yer will.”  He paused, a shy smile stealing across his features.  “I…I…well, I thank ye fer the invitation, my lord.”

“Then stay for a day or so and rest before you return to your home,” the King invited, pleased further by the man’s hesitant response.  The prospect of spending a few days underground in the company of an alien people could not be a comfortable one.  Once more, the man displayed fortitude and a willingness to face the unknown gracefully.  Just as Legolas had described him.

“You are certain you are not needed by your family?” Thranduil pressed.

Darius shook his head.  “Nay, Sire.  My brother’s wife and their sons are stayin’ at the farm to help with the chores and keep my wife company until I return.  He planned to join them in a day or two.” 

The Commander stepped forward.  “Malvagor also remained behind to lend aid where needed, sire.”  Thranduil raised an eyebrow.  Malvagor stayed?  There was a story behind that simple statement, he was certain.  How…unexpected.  And entertaining.

“Excellent.”

Thranduil stood, signaling an end to the audience; a regal, imposing figure in his crown of summer flowers and his forest green court robe with its elaborate embroidery as he beckoned Baranthor forward.  “May I present one of my trusted advisors?  Baranthor, allow me to introduce Darius, son of Olwain, of Esgaroth.” 

Baranthor smiled at the flustered visitor and said, “Welcome, Darius. I hope you will enjoy your stay with us.” 

“Thank ye, sir,” the man murmured.

Exchanging a devious grin with Baranthor, Thranduil gestured towards the waiting Commander as he continued blithely on, “You already know Aravir, of course.”  Aravir’s green eyes narrowed.  What was the King playing at?  Of course, Baranthor knew him!

Baranthor nodded a greeting to the elf.  “Certainly.  Greetings, Aravir.  It is good to have you back.” 

The advisor’s merry grey eyes twinkled as the Commander bowed stiffly in return.  So, Thranduil is having a bit of fun with his commander.  And involving me!  Good!  Having carved wooden soldiers for this one when he was just an elfling, it had often tickled his sense of humor to observe the oh, so dignified expression that so often graced the young one’s face when he was on duty.  Lately, however, the child’s reserve resembled more of a withdrawal.  Baranthor had decided to dedicate his considerable talents to breaking through that wall the Commander had built to separate himself from his friends, much to Aravir’s chagrin and the King’s delight. 

“It is good to be back,” a stiff-lipped Aravir replied to the grinning advisor.  Darius watched the exchange with amusement.  It would seem Aravir was being gently teased by his elders.    

“I must check in with my aide, Sire,” Aravir informed the King.  “Do you require anything else at present?”

“Just your presence at the dinner hour, Aravir,” the King ordered, smiling when the startled elf was unable to contain his pleased nod of assent. 

“Darius, you will join us.  Baranthor, we will expect you also…and bring that brother of yours and his wife.  We will feed our guest, make him feel at home and tomorrow, he will experience a Woodland revel.”  

Baranthor chuckled softly, Darius looked alarmed, and Aravir unbent enough to arch one amused eyebrow at his lord in response.  The King laughed at what seemed outright impudence from the Commander and made a dismissive gesture.

“Ah, off with you, you scamp.  I do not know why I put up with your foolishness, Aravir!” 

The elf raised the other eyebrow, now the picture of provocative innocence, and executed a perfect bow before leaving. 

“The elfling grows confident, my lord,” Baranthor whispered. 

Thranduil threw him a pleased grin in agreement before turning to Darius, saying, “Pay no attention to us, Darius.  It has become a common practice of ours to attempt to rattle Aravir’s chains once an audience is over and business completed.” 

The human smiled, the glance he bestowed on the King filled with the understanding of one who had often suffered the same treatment from his own father and uncle.  “Of course, Sire.” 

“Come then.  We will show you to your quarters that you might rest and refresh yourself.  Later this evening, you and I will discuss that colony of spiders you discovered and helped destroy.”

The King, accompanied by Baranthor, led the bemused man to a side exit and conducted him through the corridors to the guest wing of the stronghold.  After showing Darius into the guest room, Thranduil paused at the door.  “Darius.” 

The young man turned towards him, a rather lost look on his face.  The King’s heart softened even further as he advised, “Rest, Darius.  Avail yourself of the bathing room, if you wish.  There is also fruit and a fine wine on the table over there if you are hungry now.” 

“Thank ye, sire.  Ye are most kind.” 

Thranduil smiled as he turned to leave.  “I will send someone for you when it is time for the evening meal.” 

Darius spent some time exploring his quarters, amazed at the sheer artistry used by the elves for the simplest things.  Rock walls were smooth and polished, or adorned with tapestries of such color and grace he stood before them for long minutes, lost in the stories depicted by each scene.  Even the bedding was lush and elegant, embroidered with gossamer threads of green and gold, covering a massive bedstead carved with woodland creatures. Thick carpets covered the stone floor, a small fire kindled in a brazier dispelled any chill in the room, and the oil from the burning rushlights was pleasantly scented. 

The bathing room was another wonder, and although he had recently cleaned up in a stream before entering the palace, he could not resist the deep pool with its heated waters and fragrant, elven-made softsoap.  Falling on the bed after his bath and a delightful cup of a fruity tasting wine, he stretched his arms above his head and sighed.  “Just a short nap, maybe…”

                                                                    XXX 

So Aravir found him several hours later.  Shaking the man awake, he smothered his chuckles at Darius’ frantic scramble to dress for dinner.  There, in what Darius decided was the family dining room, he found all his fears laid to rest by the welcome he received.  In between courses of fresh fish, accompanied by platters of squash and snap beans, braised mushrooms, fresh bread, and a trifle of sponge cake drowning in fresh berries and cream, Baranthor and his brother, Berenthil, offered many amusing stories while Berenthil’s wife, Miriel, provided a gentle presence, controlling their more exuberant discussions.  Aravir sat beside him, a familiar, reassuring figure, and even the King, who Darius was certain could be the most intimidating elf imaginable, proved a comfortable table companion, in spite of the constant spate of questions he threw at Darius. 

However, once Darius started relating his adventure with the spiders, he found it easy to describe everything in detail, from the size of the spider and the smell of its foul blood, to his horror at the sight of the grotesque webs overwhelming the trees, and his fear for the small elfling who trusted so completely in the strange man who saved him. 

At the end of the story, Thranduil had drawn a deep breath and said, “I can see why Legolas was so impressed with you, Darius.”  He held up a hand to halt the man’s protest.  “Nay, I have spoken with Aravir, and in the short time we have been acquainted, I know you well enough to see you do not wish any special recognition or reward.  But I find I must insist.”  He eyed the blush stealing across the young man’s cheeks.  “I will try not to make it too much of an ordeal, but tomorrow evening at the revel, I will introduce you to my people, that they may know of your efforts and honor you for your actions in protecting our realm.”

                                                                    XXX

The next day, after a breakfast consisting of a sweet nutty porridge with fruit and warm bread with honey, Darius spent the morning with Baranthor, observing the King as he greeted various courtiers or heard petitions in the Great Hall.  Having seen his father preside over the formal meetings of the different guilds of Lake Town, Darius was struck by the similarities between the rituals of elves and men.  It would seem we are more alike than we know…although the King presents a much more imposing, impressive figure than Father or the Mayor.  Even the King of Dale pales in comparison to the Elvenking.

After the final petition was heard, Baranthor delivered Darius to the King with a wink and an impudent bow, causing Thranduil to cast a mock-glare at his friend before turning to the man with a huff of annoyance. 

“I do not know why I put up with his cheek,” he groused to himself.  Noting Darius’ ill-concealed grin, he snapped, “What?” 

Darius cleared his throat and offered the elven ruler the truth.  “He keeps ye grounded, my lord.  After all, what are friends for…if not to remind us we are not all we think we are?” 

Thranduil eyed the man askance, amazed at the temerity of his observation.  Darius blushed, then turned deathly pale, as if just realizing how his words had sounded.  “My lord...,” he began. 

“Nay, Darius,” Thranduil interrupted.  “Do not spoil it with an apology.  I would be most disappointed in you.”  He studied the young man a moment longer, then gestured him to his side.  “Come along,” he said.  “Eloriel has been known to send my lunch to the Commander’s office if I am overly late.” 

Darius followed the elf, maintaining a respectful silence, all the while berating himself for his gaffe.  Why in Arda would he think that this elf in particular would be interested in hearing his ill-thought, too familiar observation?  It was a wonder to him the King had not had him escorted to the great doors and kicked out of the palace.

“Peace, Darius,” Thranduil suddenly said, looking down at the bent head of the man pacing beside him.  Darius looked up, the chagrin and shame apparent in his blue eyes.  Thranduil smiled at him…or perhaps a bearing of teeth would be more accurate.  “I do not mind the truth…most of the time.  And fortunately for you, I am disposed to allow your words…just this once.” 

“Yes, sire,” Darius breathed.  “Ye have more than made yer point.  Forgive my arrogance.” 

“Oh, you did not speak in arrogance, young one,” Thranduil remarked.  “If you had, I would not have reacted so…how shall I put it?  Calmly.”  The King swept on, leaving the man behind him swallowing heavily before he hurried to catch up.

Lunch started out a rather strained affair, until it was lightened by the elf maiden in charge of the servers who, after examining the table with a critical eye, began urging the King and his guest to take second helpings. 

“I know you have been in the Great Hall, my lord,” she explained, offering Thranduil another slice of the excellent venison pie.  “Just listening to some of that foolishness often causes your appetite to disappear.”  She ignored the King’s glare, adding some vegetables to the pie on his plate.  “You know you will need your strength for tonight, Sire.  All those guests…and every one of them wanting to speak to you.” 

“Eloriel,” he sighed, “I will eat at the feast…” 

“I have seen how you eat at a feast…you become so distracted during the festivities you do not eat enough to keep an elfling active.  Come now, my lord.  This is your favorite…Meneldur took time out to make it just for you.” 

“Meneldur should concentrate on his duties in the treasury,” Thranduil growled, taking a bite of the flaky crust with its savory filling. 

“Yes, yes…and you may remind him of that later…after you eat.”  She turned her serious gray eyes on Darius.  “And that goes for you, too, good sir.” 

Darius obediently picked up his fork and resumed eating, earning a bright smile from the maiden before she left the room and a smirk from the King as they both cleared their plates – as ordered.

Darius spent a pleasant hour in the King’s favorite garden, telling the elf about purchasing the land for his farm, in spite of his father’s objections.  He described his Cara and the coming babe in loving detail, and told Thranduil of their early struggles to clear the land and build their house and barn. 

“Still, things have been good fer us, ‘til this drought,” he concluded, his handsome face shadowed by the memory of dry, barren fields. 

“The rains will return, Darius,” Thranduil assured him.  “I know it is difficult for you, but have patience.  It sounds as if you are doing everything possible to maintain your land until that happens.”  He stood.  “Come.  I will take you to your room so you might rest and prepare for the feast this evening.  We will wait until Anor completes his journey and the heat of the day dissipates somewhat.”

Darius returned to his room and paced in restless anticipation before finally collapsing on the bed and dozing off.  He awoke in time to bathe and change into his finest clothing, packed at the insistence of Cara.  “Ye don’t know what’s in store there at the palace,” she had scolded.  “If the King wishes to thank ye in front of everyone, ye had best be dressed in a fittin’ manner, husband.”  Thank the Belain for his wife’s foresight.

Aravir arrived to serve as his escort and they followed the King out of the palace, crossing the courtyard to the wide expanse of lawn where rows of tables covered in finely-woven cloths, adorned with wreaths and garlands of flowers had been set up, facing a long table set on a low dais before them. 

The lawn was lit with lanterns strategically hung from the trees and candlelight.  Darius did not quite know where to look first, he was so dazzled by the sights before him, finally resolving to keep his eyes on Thranduil and do his gawking after the feast had begun.  Thranduil led him to the High Table, seating him on his left hand with Aravir on the other side.  The crowd of elves at the tables had risen at the entrance of their King, bowing deeply as he passed.

Thranduil stood, staring out over the crowded lawn for a moment, gathering the attention of every elf present, before speaking.  “It is with great honor and pleasure that I welcome each and every one of you tonight.  Long has it been since we have had an opportunity…no, a reason to celebrate anything other than the usual seasonal festivals.  Tonight, I am pleased to inform you that we have much to celebrate and be thankful for.  We have lost much over the years to the Shadow that threatens our very existence.  Loved ones, as well as our beloved forest, have fallen in the wake of its evil.  But we have persevered, and we shall continue doing so.  Even as we sit here tonight, our warriors patrol our borders, seeing to our safety.  And now, we have a new ally who has proven his worth by alerting our patrols to an incursion by the great spiders from the South.” 

Here the King paused to allow the alarmed whispers to fade.  “He not only helped our warriors locate and eliminate the threat, but he was able to save one of our little ones.”  Another pause as Thranduil turned to look off to one side of the High Table. 

“Darius!”  The sudden shout, followed by a blur as a small figure separated from the group waiting to be introduced and seated, startled everyone.  Darius stood just in time to catch Gilfileg as the elfling leaped into his arms, hugging the child close, his welcoming smile visible to every elf present.  The entire assembly burst into applause. 

Thranduil held up a hand, quieting the crowd.  “It gives me great honor to introduce to you, Darius, son of Olwain, of Esgaroth.  We bid him welcome to Eryn Galen and thank him for his courage and aid in ridding the forest of these enemies while saving one of our precious children.” 

Darius shifted Gilfileg to his hip, bowing to the King and the crowd, drawing more applause and shouts of welcome.  Thranduil continued when silence fell once more.  “It has also come to our attention that the villages farthest from us have been neglected of late.  That will come to an end, beginning now.  I have brought the leaders of these villages to the capital for the express purpose of determining their needs…and I will be returning with them when they go home to greet these stalwart, courageous subjects who remained behind those many years ago to care for the forest when we were forced north.” 

Another roar of approval sounded as Thranduil motioned the village leaders and Gilfileg’s parents to take their seats at the High Table.  Darius whispered a quick hello to the elfling’s parents and Dorlas, who greeted him with warm smiles of approval.  They turned to listen as the King continued to speak.  “I trust each of you will make them welcome during their stay here as they renew acquaintances and meet with me and my council.” 

He paused and the people stilled, listening intently.  “We have called this forest home for time out of mind, and the hardships we endure we face together, both as one people…and with the help of those we might not have considered in the past.  Those who now show us that friendship is often found when and where we least expect it.  Please…be seated now…and enjoy the feast!”

The people complied with laughter and chatter, and what a feast it was!  As soon as the King finished speaking, minstrels began wandering among the tables, playing softly as the dishes for the first course were brought out and served.  Darius released Gilfileg, with a smile and pat on the back, to his parents and sat down beside Thranduil, whispering, “Just what did ye say to them, my lord?” 

Thranduil grinned.  “Oh, this and that.”  He patted Darius on the shoulder.  “Nothing you did not deserve, Darius.  Now, enjoy yourself.” 

Darius nodded, waiting for the King to be served before helping himself to a bowl of fragrant soup made from the pulp of pumpkins.  The soup was followed by roasted boar, crisp and spicy, a crusty pie stuffed with rabbit and accompanied by braised mushrooms in wine sauce, thick slices of venison with warm, crusty bread, and a fresh salad of greens, garnished with chestnuts, tender fiddleheads, and parchment-thin slices of apples.  Each table was kept supplied with the potent wine favored by the King.  Darius took a careful sip and promised himself he would drink only water once his goblet was empty. 

As he ate, content to listen to the musical language flowing around him, he watched the elves, dressed in their fine gowns or flowing robes and thought he had never in his life seen such beauty.  His silent study was interrupted by the second remove of fresh fish, more warm bread with honey, buttery corn and squash. 

Aravir leaned over to whisper in Darius’ ear, “Eat sparingly from now on, my friend.  You do NOT want to miss the sweet I heard Eloriel has planned.” 

Darius nodded, “Thank ye, Aravir.  Just a bite of the fish, then.” 

The Commander chuckled, hoping the man did not make himself sick taking ‘just a bite’.  The final course proved to be everything Aravir had promised – flaky pastries stuffed with fruits and nuts, glazed with honey.  Darius had two, wishing he was Gilfileg’s age and could lick the sticky goodness from his fingers. 

Once the meal had ended, he walked around the gathering, nodding politely to the smiles and greetings of the crowd, enjoying the music and dancing.  In time, he found himself sitting at the base of one of the huge trees at the edge of the lawn.  Smothering a huge yawn, he leaned back, sighing, his vision slightly blurred by an abundance of good food and Thranduil’s excellent wine.  He watched the elves weaving an intricate pattern as they danced, tapping his fingers on his knee in time with the music, his eyes growing heavier and heavier, until at last he slept, watched over by the stars and the Elvenking’s Commander. 

“Asleep, is he?” Thranduil asked, looking fondly at the man resting against the trunk of the old beech. 

“Yes, I believe the combination of too much excitement and an excess of food, along with a healthy dose of your Dorwinion proved too much for him in the end.”  He smiled at the King, who placed an affectionate hand on his shoulder.  “But he did enjoy himself.” 

“Good.  Will you see him in, Aravir?” 

“Of course, my lord.  Enjoy yourself.”  Aravir watched Thranduil wander off in search of the archery contest beginning across the lawn before bending down to rouse the man and lead him to his room.

                                                                    XXX                   

The next morning, Thranduil spent several hours showing Darius the stables and the practice fields where the novice warriors learned their lessons with the bow and blade.  They ended up once more in the garden, Thranduil listening as Darius spoke of his youthful yearning that he might one day establish a friendly relationship with the elves of the great forest.  Thranduil found his early assessment of the man reinforced with every word that left his mouth.  He was intelligent, resourceful, and above all, honorable.

The next day when they met for the last time in the courtyard near the stables and Darius’ horse was readied for the journey home, Thranduil said to him, “Consider yourself and your family under our protection, Darius.”

At the man’s startled look, the King explained,” Your farm is the farthest from town, is it not?”

“Aye, my lord,” Darius replied carefully.

“You are close to the boundary of my realm, with the forest bordering your western fields and the river to your south and east?”  Another tentative nod of agreement.  “A small farm…unprotected and isolated from the larger settlements and farms of the area?

“Yes, my lord.”

Thranduil paused, considering the man before him.  “Unfortunately for us all, the Shadow of evil continues to grow.  Given the distance from your nearest neighbor, you are vulnerable.  But no more.  Our Eastern Patrol can easily keep an eye on you and your family.”

The man stuttered, “My l-l-lord, th-that would be very generous of ye!”

The King laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder.  “The forest is vast, my friend, and our patrols are spread too thin at times.  You discovered that huge colony of spiders, Darius.  You then proceeded to go out of your way, at considerable danger to yourself, to rescue an elfling separated from his parents, and when intercepted by Ohtar and my son, to apprise them of the situation and give them directions to the colony.  You were not aware of the three elven settlements located in that area or the families that live in those settlements… families with young ones.  Legolas has noted, and I concur, that you probably saved the lives of many of those villagers.”

He squeezed the man’s shoulder lightly.  “I do not count that a small thing, Darius.  We are in your debt and would be honored to consider you a friend…you and your descendants, for as long as they should live.”

The delighted young man smiled at Thranduil and bowed his head.  “As ye wish it, Sire.  To count the elves of the great forest and their King as friends has always been a hope of mine.”

Thranduil escorted Darius to his horse.  “Your hope is realized, then.  Go well, elvellon, and know that from this moment on we name you elf-friend.”

He watched as the young man mounted, surprising him when he added in parting, “Be certain to send word when your wife delivers the babe, Darius.  I would know that all of you are well.  May the stars shine brightly on your path, my friend.  I will inform Prince Legolas of my decision.”

A sudden frown marred the fair features.  “On second thought, perhaps you should inform him.  You will probably see him sooner than I will.”

Darius laughed at the disgruntled expression on Thranduil’s handsome face and replied, “Should I see the Prince, I will give him yer regards, my lord.”

Thranduil grimaced and the man suddenly saw only a father, missing his son.  “Do that…and tell him I said to write!”

“I will!” called Darius, as he turned his horse and joined Aravir and the elven escort waiting to lead him from the stable yard into the forest beyond.