Chapter 4:  Foreign Relations

Thranduil surveyed the common storerooms where the foodstuffs were kept with disbelief.  He had wanted to assess the food shortage his wife and mother had told him about, but the view before his eyes was drowning out all rational thought and he could feel his anger grow.  He stared at the neat stacks and piles before him and knew that they had not been grown by elves.  He spun on his heel and made to track down his wife, his eyes sparked with anger.

He found her sitting outside, in a circle of elves, who were weaving small intricately detailed pieces of cloth on hand looms.  She glanced up to see him walking toward her, and her smile of greeting died when she saw the expression on his face.

“Anólindë, I would speak with you,” Thranduil ordered, his voice stern and changing to one filled with anger after a slight pause. “Now.” 

She rose, confused by his manner, but unwilling to make a spectacle by responding to his tone. She brushed off her skirts and then cocked one eyebrow and gave a meaningful glance at their audience. 

Thranduil reached out, graphing her arm and placing it through his, and then set off back the way he had come, almost pulling her off her feet.  She stumbled once in surprise and then matched her stride to his, her own anger growing at his treatment.

Thranduil guided her back to the storerooms and let go of, pointing an accusatory finger at the neatly stacked supplies.

“Explain that!” he ordered.

She stared at him, confusion evident on her face.  “Explain what? These are our winter stores.  They are neither more nor less than what I reported.  There is just eno…,” she tried to explain.

“Enough!” Thranduil interrupted with a bellow.  “We did not grow this.  Where did it come from?”

Her eyes narrowed at her own temper soared.  “We traded for it,” she replied evenly, desperately holding onto her own temper.

“Traded with whom?” Thranduil asked, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.

“The human village on the western border, several miles west of the edge of the forest on the Old Forest Road.  They have come from the west to settle there,” she replied, trying to determine why he was so angry.

“We will take nothing more from the people allied with Isildur.  I will not tie our people to the fate of men.  What have you given them?  What have we supplied them?” Thranduil demanded, unthinking in that moment of rage.

Anólindë stared at him in shock as his anger boiled over for the first time since she had known him, but his words struck her and she would not let her governance go undefended.

“Why not?”

“I will not explain myself to you.  I have given the order. We will take no more from these people,” he replied, incensed that she had questioned his rule.

“We will take more from those people, regardless of how worthy you see them, or you may sentence your own people to starvation,.” Anólindë countered her own voice rising.  “How dare you condemn them, when you have not done business with them before!”

“We did not need to,” Thranduil countered, furious that she would argue with him.  “My father never drove his kingdom to the straights that you have driven us.”

“You would blame me for the harsh weather?” she asked incredulously

Thranduil stared at her, realizing his argument was false, but he was unwilling to back down.  “We will not trade with them, we will deal with them no more,” he stated with finality and turned to leave.

“If you make that order you will bring about more death,” Anólindë countered, desperate to understand his intransigence.

He turned back.  “What do you mean?”

“You asked what we give to the humans.  We trade them wood for their fires.  If you break our agreement and the winter is harsh, they will come to Greenwood and indiscriminately cut down the trees.”

“They would not dare,” Thranduil replied

“Then you will have to protect the trees with your forces, for they will dare anything to keep their families alive.  Just like I would dare all to keep our people fed.  Do you wish that?  That is what may happen if you make that order.”

Thranduil forced himself to even out his breathing and slowly brought his temper under control again.  Her words had merit, but she did not know what he did.  He had no wish for his kingdom to be dependent on others for their survival, especially men from the west.  Slowly, not wishing her to draw back, he brought his hand up to caress the side of her face.

“So fierce you are,” he whispered and then he sighed.  “I will not break whatever agreement you have made, but neither will I allow any new agreements to be forged except at great need.”

“But…,” her words trailed off as he moved his thumb over her lips. He replaced his thumb with his lips and felt the tension slowly drain from her body as she returned his kiss, inviting him further in.  Her arms came up to hold him, but he captured them and held them away from him.  He broke the kiss and set her back from him.  She looked as if she would protest, but he shook his head.

“I will not explain to you, not now.  Let it be.”  Then he stepped back away from her and strode from the building, leaving her standing there, bewildered, her emotions in turmoil.

**

“Celleth, is anyone in dire need of my company tomorrow?” Anólindë inquired her voice sounding strained as she finally found her aide that evening.

“I do not believe there is anyone who would object to being put off for another day,” Celleth responded.  “Are you going to visit the willow?”

“No, I do not think so.  I need to be surrounded by trees, and feel the wind on my face.  No…I think instead I will hunt,” Anólindë explained.

“Hunt?” Celleth inquired perplexed.  “The hunting parties are not leaving for several days and you yourself set the rules…”

“Celleth,” Anólindë interrupted.  “I am not hunting game, but bees.”

“Ah, I had forgotten you planned this,” Celleth exclaimed with a touch of relief.  “Do you wish me to accompany you?”

“Only if you wish to Celleth.” 

“In that case, I think I would like to stay here.  The king will be busy most of the day and that means Lamathen will have some free time and I find I would like to spend some time with my wife,” Celleth explained.

Anólindë smiled sadly and nodded.  “Enjoy your day then.  I am going to prepare for my trip.”

“I will have your horse and gear waiting for you in the morning,” Celleth replied and mentally cursed his tongue for inadvertently making her sad.  “Enjoy your hunt.”

“Thank you Celleth,” Anólindë replied and departed.

**

Anólindë stepped out into the courtyard at first light dressed for a hunt.  She wore the browns and greens that so characterized a Greenwood elf and her hair was braided down her back and out of the way.  Over her shoulder hung her bow and quiver.  She did not plan to hunt for game, but she was not going to turn her nose up at it if something edible jumped in front of her.  Today she was determined to enjoy herself and let go all her cares.

Waiting for her was a single male elf she vaguely recognized and two horses.  She was only going to be accompanied by one guard.  That was a bit unusual.  In the past she usually had three guards although she would have preferred none at all.

“Good morning my queen,” her young guard greeted her.

“Good morning…” she paused and raised her eyebrow in inquiry.

“Ahh, forgive me.  I am Mandel,” he answered.

“Well good morning Mandel. I take it you are to be my guard for the day?” she inquired, hoping he did not have companions hiding out of sight.  A day in the woods with just one guard was even better than three.  For where two horses could travel at speed, four sometimes could not and she always felt guilty when she temporarily would lose one.

“I am indeed.  Your regular guard was ordered to report for retraining.  So I am afraid it is just me today. Is that acceptable?”  Mandel inquired a trifle unsure.

Anólindë smiled broadly and swung up onto her horse.  “I am sure we can muddle through. Tell me, have you ever hunted bees?”

Mandel mounted his own horse and motioned her forward and then reined in beside her.  “Bees?  No I have never hunted bees.”  He seemed perplexed for a moment. “I assume there is some other purpose to hunting bees than shooting and eating them, but perhaps while I was gone someone invented a wonderful new delicacy of bee soup?” he inquired with a humorous smile.

Anólindë laughed delightedly. “No, not that I am aware of, but I will ask the cooks next time if perhaps they have a recipe.  My words are perhaps imprecise concerning this expedition.  We are not so much hunting the bees, as going on a trade and diplomatic expedition.  We venture forth into another kingdom to meet a foreign queen.  First, however, we must find her.”

Mandel grinned broadly and replied “At last I understand.  I know well what role I must play now.  It is my duty to stand silent behind you and look competent and menacing.  We must not let our kingdom be thought of as weak.  So we must make a strong showing.  It is too bad you did not explain that to me ahead of time my queen.  I could have brought the Greenwood standard and served double duty as both your guard and standard bearer.”

Anólindë threw back her head and laughed.  The image Mandel had painted in her head sent peals of laughter coursing through her.  She clutched her stomach and drew in a gasping breath.  She tried to control her laughter, but every look at Mandel set off a fresh wave.  She gave up and buried her face in her horse’s mane so she could no longer see him.  Eventually she managed to stop laughing and sat up.

She turned to regard him and said with all the dignity she could muster “I will be sure to inform you next time of the nature of our mission.”  She was proud of herself for only pausing once in that statement to stifle a laugh.

Mandel nodded, swallowing his own laughter disinclined to set her off again with his own amusement.  So he tried to be dignified but his eyes almost glowed with merriment.

Anólindë suddenly realized they were under the trees and on the trail.  She had not been paying close attention to their location, and was thus surprised to find herself clear of the settlement.  Her eyes took on a wicked gleam and she turned to regard Mandel.

“Tell me Mandel, do you like to feel the wind against your face and miles falling behind you?  I ask you to say yes, for I feel the need to run.  The trees beckon and the trail teases.  I would break the fetters holding me to this ground and fly.”

“Go as you will. You will not lose me,” He assured her and then leaned forward and said in a mock whisper into his horse’s ear.  “You had best not make a liar out of me, my hoofed friend”

Without another word they flew across the ground. 

**

Thranduil entered the garden that morning preparing to make amends and partial explanations.  He knew his behavior towards his wife the previous afternoon was unacceptable.  He had let his anger overrule his sense.  He would not change his stance, however, she deserved an apology from him.  He had spent much of the previous night preparing himself for facing his wife this morning. 

It took him by surprise when he realized he was the first to arrive.  He sat down and attempted to eat, but found the silence of the garden disconcerting.  He wondered if both his wife and mother had abandoned him this morning and was partially reassured by the one other place setting on the table.  It seemed only one of them would join him and he was almost surprised to admit he hoped it would be his wife.  He had spent so long preparing himself to apologize; he doubted he could convince himself to do it again.

He was doomed to disappointment however when his mother swept into the garden a short while later.  She glanced at Thranduil and then at the empty spot at the table before joining her son. 

“Good morning” Thalarîn greeted him.

“Good morning mother” Thranduil replied, his gaze flowing from his mother to the doorway behind her in the hopes that Anólindë had followed her in. She was not there.  Instead mother and son ate in silence.  Thranduil finished eating and again watched the doorway, hoping she would appear. 

Thalarîn cleared her throat and Thranduil turned his attention completely to his mother for the first time that morning.  He took one look at the expression on her face and wished he had not come to breakfast at all.  It was the look most children dread to see on their parents face.  Her expression was one of disappointment and clearly proclaimed that she expected better behavior from her offspring and that his actions had hurt her.  He hated that look, hundreds of years of being an adult and it still made his gut clench in shame.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Thalarîn inquired.

“I had hoped to apologize to my wife.  Do you by chance know where I can find her?”  Thranduil admitted reluctantly.

“She is gone”

Thranduil heard those three words and felt he was suddenly drowning beneath the weight of his own despair and anger.  They echoed in his head and he feared she had left him because of his harsh words.  “Gone where?” he asked his voice suddenly harsh with emotions.

“I believe Celleth mentioned she was hunting this morning.”  Thalarîn replied, secretly pleased by his reaction.  She had not meant to be ambiguous in her answer, but the unexpected reaction reassured her. Whatever issues lay between her son and his wife lack of feeling was not among them.

“Hunting?”  Thranduil repeated, unsure he had heard his mother correctly. 

“Yes.  I expect she will return this evening,” Thalarîn answered.

“Hunting” Thranduil repeated to himself and then stood quickly.  “Excuse me. I have duties to see to.”  Then he left without another word, leaving his mother sitting in the garden smiling at his back.

**

“Ai, grounded once more,” Anólindë lamented as she and Mandel drew their horses back to a walk.  “Would that you truly did have wings my friend,” she said while patting her horse on the neck.

“I think it is best she does not,” Mandel added, slightly winded.  “I think if you could truly fly, you would never choose to land.”  He had been somewhat amazed by the fierce way she rode.

She looked at him and her eyes were melancholy.  “Oh, I would land for her sake, but if I had wings it would be a different story.  Perhaps what you say would be so; I would fly until exhaustion took me and I could no longer keep myself above the trees.  I would fall, but perhaps I would have flown free long enough to die with no regrets.”

Mandel considered her words for a moment and was unsure of what to say.  “You may go without regrets, but do not doubt that you would leave others behind who would have them.  If you fell, I would never know the pleasure of carrying your banner before a foreign queen,” he reminded, trying to reintroduce levity to their conversation.

Anólindë smiled at his gentle rebuke and tried to shake her sudden dark mood.  “Indeed, I do think it is time we continued our quest.  Listen carefully for their singing.  They do not work silently.  If we can find a drone, he will lead us to his queen.”

They rode around quietly for a time, trading idle conversation and stopping at one point for a meal.  They continued their hunt until Mandel heard the buzzing of a bee.  He pointed it out and they followed it back to its hive.  Then Mandel watched as Anólindë sang a song of greeting, and a short while later the queen bee herself flew out and landed on Anólindë’s outstretched hand.  She sang again, but softly and he was only able to distinguish certain words like tree and flower and song.  She would pause every so often and listen carefully and eventually she stopped singing all together and nodded regally to the foreign queen perched on her hand.  The queen bee flew off and Anólindë stood there frozen for a moment and then turned to regard Mandel her eyes once again fey and full of happiness.

“I believe she will come.”

“I am glad.  I wonder, is this a common practice? I do not recall ever hearing of someone coming out to negotiate with the bees.”

“I do not think it is common in our home, although I may make it so.  We did it where I grew up, further to the southern edge of the Eastern bight.  My father was a great lover of all things sweet.  He went through honey like most of us go through water.  My mother finally got tired of hiking through the woods looking for the bees.  She tracked down the queen and entreated her to move her hive close by.  Eventually she found a willing queen.  It is not easy.  I have asked other queens before and failed.  This is my first success,” she explained.

“Congratulations,” Mandel replied.

“Thank you, but I have an ulterior motive.  My father was not the only one to have a sweet tooth,” Anólindë explained somewhat ruefully.  “There are other benefits as well.  We need candles, as summer turns into fall, if we wish to have any light at night besides the stars.  The bees provide wax for that task as well.  The honey is an added benefit.”  She paused then and glanced at the position of the sun in the sky.  “We should return now, I think. We have been gone awhile and it will soon grow dark.”

“I was about to suggest that,” Mandel agreed and the two of them set out towards home.  They traveled in companionable silence, Anólindë lost in thought and Mandel scanning the area for danger.  It came as some surprise to Anólindë when Mandel came to an abrupt halt and pulled his bow and nocked an arrow.  She halted her horse and quickly scanned the area he was aiming at.  Standing in a beam of light not far from them stood a buck.  He stood there, eyes locked with Mandel’s, frozen.  Mandel let out his breath suddenly and slowly let the pressure off his string and then returned his arrow to his quiver.  The buck chose that moment to escape and he disappeared into the bushes.

“That was him, was it not?” Mandel asked in a quiet voice.

“Indeed, it was,” Anólindë answered.  “As far as the forest caretakers have been able to determine, he is the last of the bucks in this area.  We need him to help repopulate his herd, which is why we laid down the rules about hunting in this area.  I am glad you were told.  We do not wish to lose him.”

“No, but perhaps one day when the herd is healthy and we again have plenty to eat I will find him again.  By then he will be a canny old fellow with the knowledge to be a worthy foe.”

She nodded and they continued their journey towards home.  A short while later, Anólindë grew tired of the silence.

“Tell me, Mandel, next time I go on a quest, can I count on you to accompany me?”

Mandel’s face grew serious.  “I do not know, my queen.  I do not think I am meant to stay in the guard.  I do not believe I am very good at it.”

Anólindë turned in the saddle to look at him.  “You are one of the troop commanders are you not?  If you are not good at what you do, how do you explain that?”

Mandel’s turned his gaze into the distance, searching his memory.  “I believe there were several abilities I had that were necessary at the time.  I speak and write fluent Sindarin and Westron.  We were tightly integrated with many of the units from the west.  Most of our people could speak Sindarin and some Westron, but there are few that bothered to learn to read either, which was a liability as you were never sure which language the message being delivered to you was in. Also,” he added somewhat proudly, “my command was never late.  If I had orders to be somewhere by some time, then we would be there.” 

Mandel shifted his gave from the horizon back to Anólindë who was watching him intently.  “I do not believe I am an inspired commander.  I received a great deal of help and support from those under my command, but not enough to change my nature.  I do not believe I was meant to be a warrior,” he explained, although the admission seemed to pain him.

“What else calls you?”  Anólindë inquired.

“I had thought once that I should be an artist,” Mandel offered.  “I used to take great joy in watching a picture form from lines on a page.”

“Used too? It no longer brings you joy?”  Anólindë asked.

“Not as it used to.  It brings me peace, but it is not how I wish to spend my time,” Mandel explained.  “So I will keep looking until I find something that does bring me joy.”

Anólindë watched him for several moments more, her eyes narrowed in thought.  Then she turned her attention back to their trail and they rode the rest of the way home in silence. 

**

A/N:  Thanks to Nilmandra and Daw for tag team beta-ing this chapter, also to Nilmandra for the in depth explanation on the problems of soldiers returning home from war.