Chapter 5:  Domestic Relations

The sun was low in the sky, providing a warm glow to the forest.  The shadows cast by the trees were longer and cooler and told of the coming night.  Through the occasional breaks in the tree canopy, Anólindë could see white puffy clouds ambling across the sky.  It was a lovely evening for a ride.  It had been a wonderful day and she pondered how she could finish it.  A filling meal, a touch of music and then a long sleep, she decided.  She snapped out of her reverie when she noticed Mandel tense.  She focused on their surroundings and knew her plans were not to be.  Up ahead, just out of sight, waited her husband.

“My Queen, someone…,” began Mandel.

“I know who it is, Mandel,” Anólindë replied somewhat wearily.

Mandel gave her a questioning look.  He could not yet see the person; they were too far ahead for even elven eyesight to determine identity and the trees were not forthcoming with details.

“The king awaits our return,” she explained, and then bit back a smile as Mandel began a quick check of his appearance.  He brushed the dust from his tunic, straightened his hair as well as he was able and sat taller on his horse.  By the time he was done, Anólindë had given up the attempt of hiding her amusement and grinned openly at him.

After checking the trail once more, he glanced back at Anólindë and caught her smile and realized what he had done.  His face was suddenly suffused with color and he shrugged.

“He is my king and commander,” Mandel explained, his face still rosy.

“He is indeed,” Anólindë agreed, still amused,  “but all your careful work will be for naught if you do not remove the leaves still caught in your hair.”

She dropped back further behind him and let him regain his composure.  Anólindë gave her own appearance a once over.  She too was covered with dust.  She checked her own hair for leaves and then stopped.  She had spent the day in the forest; she would make no excuse for her appearance.

**

Thranduil watched them approach and felt his patience seep away.  He wished they would hurry up.  Finally they drew near and he would wait no more.

“Mandel, take the horses and return home. I would speak with my wife,” Thranduil ordered never taking his eyes from his wife.  He watched her eyes flare with anger and then her face became expressionless, and he cursed his own impatience. 

Anólindë dismounted with deliberate slowness from her horse.  She paused to stroke her mare’s neck and whisper thanks for a wonderful ride in her ear.  Then she pulled an apple slice she had saved from her earlier meal and let her horse lip it from her hand.  She gave her one last pat and then nodded to Mandel.  She stood there, saying nothing until Mandel had ridden away, leading her horse home. When Mandel was gone, she spun around to face her husband, eyes sparkling with anger. 

“I do not…” she began, her voice low

“I apologize,” Thranduil interrupted, a hint of contriteness in his voice.  “I have been ordering Mandel around for the last several years, it has apparently become habit.  Let me begin again.  Would you walk with me this evening so we could talk?”

Some of the tension left her body at his words, and she nodded her acceptance.  They strolled back into the forest until they were some distance away from the trail.  He stopped and looked around and found a nice grassy spot and invited her to sit.  She sat and watched him try to make himself comfortable without damaging his clothes.

“You are a bit overdressed for a wander through the woods,” she commented.

“I came directly from a meeting with several of the heads of house.  Putting on a show for them seemed rather appropriate,” he replied, finally giving up on his clothing and sitting down.  “Did you enjoy your hunt?”

“I did. Is that what you wished to talk about?” she asked, not wishing to linger in small talk.

“You will force me right to the point, I see.  I owe you an explanation for my anger yesterday, but I am not ready to give it.  My heart will not let me share it with you yet,” Thranduil explained.

“I understand that whatever this is, it is causing you pain. I can see that easily, but I do not appreciate being locked out of your life because of it.  I do not want to only share with you those things that affect our realm and people.  I am your wife and I want to share your life,” Anólindë answered, emotion thick in her voice.

“I want you with me, Anólindë,” Thranduil replied but then he trailed off.

“That is good, my husband, because not even death will break our bond.  You may want me with you, but that does not mean that you will let me into your life and heart.”

“I have seen much darkness and suffering.  It fills me with grief and loathing.  I do not wish to inflict that on you.  I care for you too much to burden you with that,” Thranduil explained softly, staring off into the trees so she could not see the emotion in his eyes.

Anólindë closed her eyes, trying to see past her own pain.  “If you will not share it with me, with whom will you share it?” she asked, her voice intense.

“What?”  Thranduil asked surprised.

“With whom will you share it?  I have to assume you are not alone in bearing this burden of grief and anger.  Your warriors are adjusting well.  If you cannot talk to me, is there one of them you can talk to?” she responded, trying to be rational.

“I do not think so,” he replied thoughtfully.  “If my father had survived, I believe we would have eased each other’s minds.  My warriors can talk to each other.  They shared similar experiences and can find common ground.  They were not responsible for the orders that were given.  They went where I told them…and so many of them died.”  He choked on the last sentence and drew his knees up toward his chest in a defensive posture.

Anólindë reached out and put her hand on his shoulder but he shrugged off her touch.  She moved her hand to the grass and clenched her fingers tight on a fistful of grass.  “If there is no one here you will talk to, then get on a horse and ride until you find someone you can speak to.  There were other hosts on that battlefield. Other commanders had similar responsibilities. Find one of the surviving leaders and speak to him.  Your absence would be better than this half person you offer me,” she responded heatedly.

Thranduil’s eyes blazed with anger and he locked eyes with hers as his anger boiled forth. Her goad had done what her comfort could not, and the anger escaped despite his desire to contain it.  “I will not speak with either of those two.  It is partially their fault.  Do you know what they did?” he asked incredulously, then without waiting for her reply he continued, “It is because of them that evil endures!  Isildur kept the ring.  He kept it! He has failed all of Middle Earth, and you suggest that I speak to him about my grief?  I will not!”

Anólindë felt her own emotions well up at his words.  She had believed that they had won peace, and to find it was temporary was a bitter blow.  She swallowed back her own emotions, unwilling to ease up now that Thranduil was finally speaking with her.

“What about Elrond?  He ordered troops on the field.  Surely he would understand?” she asked.

“I will not speak to him,” Thranduil replied harshly.

“Why not?”  Anólindë asked, exasperated.

“He stood aside and let Isildur keep the ring.  They stood together on the edge of Orodruin, and Elrond let him walk away.  He failed!”  Thranduil explained hotly

“What would you have done differently?” she inquired, trying to keep her own voice calm.

“I would have made sure that ring was destroyed,” Thranduil replied.

“How?  Are your words more convincing than those Lord Elrond used?”  Anólindë inquired, a sharp edge to her voice. “I understand he is well known for his gift with speech; or perhaps you would have taken the ring from Isildur?  Wielded it, when not even the greatest of our people would choose to be near it.”

Thranduil made to reply, but then stopped to consider her words more carefully.  He was silent for a long moment as he turned over possibilities in his mind.  He had replied once in anger to his wife, and he did not wish to do it again.  Instead he tried to think through all the consequences of the actions he had thought would have been better than Elrond’s.  The conclusions he reached were as uncomfortable as they were surprising to him, and this realization quenched the flame of his temper, leaving him with the harsh truth.

“I think you are correct.  If Elrond could not sway Isildur with words then no one could, although I do not appreciate the unfavorable comparison.  If you feel the need to compare me to Elrond in the future, please choose something where I may come out ahead.”  Thranduil smiled weakly and continued,  “If words could not sway Isildur, that only leaves force.  I think that if I had been on that mountain, I might not have seen the evil I was doing.  I do not believe I would have chosen to wield it, although its evil is insidious so I cannot say for certain.  Instead I think I would have pushed that fool into the fire myself.”

“So the evil of the ring would have been destroyed,” Anólindë replied.

“Yes, and instead we would have been left with the evil of the elves.  I do not wish my name to be remembered in the same thoughts as those of Fëanor and his sons,”  Thranduil replied and then sighed.  “I am going to have to apologize to him now.”

Anólindë blinked surprised,  “Who? Fëanor?”

“No, Elrond.  Our words of parting were not kind.  I will have to think on this, for I hate apologizing.”  He again focused his attention on Anólindë.  “I did not mean to speak to you of this.”

“So you said,” Anólindë replied quietly, “but news of the ring would have reached us here eventually.   Grief is not such a heavy weight upon me as it is others.  My losses were suffered long ago, but I can see why you have not told the people.  To add this on top of their grief would be too much for many of them to bear.”  She paused and give him a considering look.  “This is why you have not released your warriors from service?”

“It is.  As long as Isildur can hold the ring, we are probably safe, but I do not trust the strength of men.  I would rather watch and be ready.  Never again do I wish to be dependent on the deeds of men for our safety.”  Thranduil closed his eyes again and leaned back against the tree.  They sat in silence for a long while before a small sound caused him to open them.  He watched his wife, staring past him, with tears rolling down her face and hands clenched tight in the grass.  It was the grass tearing that had alerted him.

Anólindë?” he asked, concerned.

“All those deaths,” she whispered, “and all they did was buy us time.  A hundred, a thousand, or a hundred thousand years of peace, it is time bought in blood.  We will have to do it all over again.”

Thranduil opened his arms to her, and she crawled into his embrace.  He was not willing to be comforted, but could not deny his wife the comfort she needed after he had caused her pain.  She tucked her face down onto his chest and cried silently while he stroked her hair, and he carefully considered his reply.

“We will have to do it again, but we will not do it the same.  We will be ready next time, trained, and outfitted to better withstand the evil of Sauron.  I do not intend to repeat the mistakes of the past.  Now you see why I did not wish to tell you any of this.  I should have trusted my instincts and not said a word.”

“You feel better, do you not?”  Anólindë responded.

“I feel both better and worse.  I have unburdened part of my heart, but caused you pain.  I would rather have spared you that,” Thranduil replied.

“You would have been wrong then,” she said, and sat back up.

“That seems to be the ongoing trend.  What am I wrong about now?”  Thranduil inquired with some acerbity.

“You can not hope to protect my heart.  I will feel your pain or your joy even if I do not know the cause.  I would rather you share with me what you can, and let us deal with things together rather than separately.  I would offer you comfort and receive it in return.  Is that not what married people do?”  Anólindë asked intently.

“I do not know if I can accept your comfort.”  Thranduil replied slowly.  “I still do not feel as if I deserve it.  It is all still a confused mess in my mind.  I want you to touch me, but every time you do, I think of all those others who are gone.  They can no longer feel the touch and care of their loved ones, so why should I be able to?”

Anólindë sighed.  “It was not your sword that killed them, you can not bring them back by refusing to find joy in your life.”

“I know, and I fear I am wallowing in my own guilt,” Thranduil replied.  “I think…”

“You are thinking too much,” she interrupted and then stood up and stepped away from him.  She walked under the limbs of a nearby tree and disappeared into it. 

Thranduil stared after her startled by her abrupt change in mood.  Her voice floated down to him from above.

“If I can not offer you comfort, perhaps I can offer you distraction. You have not had time for yourself since your return.  Instead you take over the rule of the realm.  I would suggest you go hunting, but game is scarce nearby.  So I will provide you something to hunt, a challenge: me,” she said.

Thranduil tried to find her in the tree, but the leaves were thick and he could not see her.  He felt his heart speed up at the thought of hunting his wife, and he wondered at his own reactions.  “I wonder if it would be a challenge,” he teased, but his voice was intense.  He let all the heavy emotions drop away as he responded to her words.  “I move through the trees faster than you.”

“I think my chances are pretty good, especially given your current attire.  But if you wish to make it more of a challenge, you should give me a head start,” she countered, and her voice was no longer coming from the tree in front of him.  She had moved through the trees and he had not heard her.

He felt energy course through him in response to her words.  He turned towards the tree her voice had come from.  “I accept your challenge, my fierce one.  How much of a head start do you think you need?” he asked, with a slight mocking tone.  He was answered with silence.  She was already gone.

He took to the trees and followed her.  He extended his senses, listening for her movements, checking the wind for her scent.  He let his cares and concerns drop away as he focused his whole attention on tracking his wife.  He heard a distant sound of a branch creaking under an added weight and he moved in that direction.  He moved quickly, but not as fast as was his wont.  The outfit that was so appropriate at home in his court was hindering his speed.  His wife was right; his clothes were slowing him down. 

She led him on a merry chase. He caught sight of her several times, but each time she slipped away and he wondered how she managed.  He was determined to end this game the winner.  He dropped back to the ground to attempt to even the odds that were so obviously in her favor.  He pulled his long tunic over his head. He folded it and left it at the base of the tree.  His shoes joined it until he was standing in just his leggings. 

He pulled his hair back behind his ears and let his toes curl into the cooling earth.  Slowly he let the feel of the forest wash over him.  He heard the trees and felt the breeze on his chest.  The feel of the forest swept away the worries that had lingered in his mind leaving him clear headed and even more intent on his goal. Then he dropped the last mental barrier without a thought and sensed the connection to his wife via their feär.  He grinned suddenly, realizing that was how she had stayed one step ahead of him in this game.  She had used all the tools she had and had tracked his location with their bond, but now that he knew it, it was no longer an advantage.  His grin turned predatory, and he once again disappeared into the trees.

**

Anólindë paused in the arms of a great beech tree and looked around.  She could tell that her husband was nearby, but not precisely where.  Until just recently, his own sense of awareness had helped her locate him, but it seemed that he had caught on.  If that was the case, then she was more than ready to be caught.  Pride however would not allow her to make it too easy, so she edged out along the branch and leaped to the next.  She landed silently and glanced back to see if there was any motion in response.  She saw nothing, but suddenly the branch she was standing on bowed further down as an additional weight was added.  She turned back and blinked several times in surprise.  Standing in front of her on the branch was a half naked elf, her half naked elf.

“Where…” she started.

**

Thranduil dropped squarely in front of his wife from a higher branch when her attention had turned to check her back trail.  With a heady amount of male satisfaction, he watched her reaction to having him in front of her.  Her attention seemed focused on his chest.  He heard her beginning to speak, but words no longer interested him.  His blood was up and seven years of abstinence was suddenly making itself heard.  He craved his wife, like the men from the desert craved water.  Before she could complete her thought, his mouth descended upon hers, cutting off her words.

He pulled her against his body; his arms locking her into his embrace.  He was gratified to feel her arms return his embrace and caress his back.  He kissed her until he thought his blood would boil.  He pulled back a fraction, trying to catch his breath, and realized they were still standing on a tree branch.  It was not the best place for an assignation, even for wood elves.  He glanced at the ground and then back at Anólindë. 

“Hold on,” he ordered as he pulled her hard against his body and made to jump.

“Wait, I can….” She protested, perfectly capable of getting down from the tree herself.

At the first word of protest, he reached down and swept her legs out from under her until she was cradled in his arms.  Then he jumped.  He landed easily even with the additional weight.  He carefully lowered her feet to the ground.

“I appreciate your capabilities, but I’m not letting you go,” Thranduil growled and kissed her again.

She pressed her body as close to his as she was able, and then dragged her fingernails lightly down his back.  He moaned softly into her mouth and threaded his fingers into her hair under the braid.  He pulled her head back in a move that was just short of painful and met her gaze.  His eyes were predatory and possessive.

“Mine,” he declared with a purr in his voice.

Anólindë’s eyes sparkled with both desire and anticipation.  “Prove it,” she challenged.

He did.

**

They lay entwined on a bed of leaves, their bodies exhausted and content. Anólindë lay curled around his body, her head resting on his shoulder while he held her.  She could feel herself drifting off to sleep content when the chest beneath her rumbled.

“Forgive me, Anólindë,” Thranduil said, the rumblings turning into words.

“What for?” she asked sleepily and cuddled closer to him.

“I am not sure how to answer that,” Thranduil chuckled.  “Either I have made no mistakes worth asking your pardon, or I have made so many you need me to clarify.”

Anólindë nipped him in response, hoping her pillow would stop moving.

“I shall take that to mean the latter.  Forgive me for what I said to you in the storage rooms.   You and my mother have done a wonderful job in keeping our people together and fed.  I said some cruel things and I am sorry,” Thranduil said quietly.  He got no reply.

“Anólindë?” he questioned, shaking her a bit.

“Hmmm?” she replied

“Did you hear me?” he asked, vexed.

“Mmmm hmmm,” she replied.

“Indeed, then tell me what I said,” Thranduil asked, disbelieving her answer.

“Hmm…you said that I am right, and you are wrong, and I am a wonderful person,” Anólindë replied

Thranduil laughed and sat up, pulling her with him.  “Come, my sleepy one.  We had best return before Mandel sends out search parties.  I do not think we present a very good image of command laying naked on the ground.”  He stood up leaving her sitting there and went to gather their fallen articles of clothing.

He returned to see his wife stretching like a cat, arms over her head, back arched and eyes closed tight in the bliss that can only come from a good stretch.  The sight of her aroused him again, and he wondered if maybe returning home could not wait a bit longer.

She eased down out of her stretch and saw him watching her, and she raised an eyebrow at his appearance.

“I do not know, Thranduil, you appear rather kingly to me,” she replied with mischief dancing through voice.

Thranduil took a step forward, but was stopped cold by a raindrop plopping on his forehead.  He glanced up, and Anólindë did the same.  What had been puffy white clouds earlier and changed to dark thunderclouds and they had not noticed.  Thranduil eyed their bed of leaves and the sky and sighed audibly.  Anólindë laughed at him while she dug through the pile of clothes Thranduil had dropped at her feet.

“Thwarted by the weather,” Thranduil groused, and found his own clothes and began dressing.

“I understand,” Anólindë began, pausing to pull a tunic over her head, “that there is a comfortable bed under a dry roof not too far from here.”

“Is there now,” Thranduil replied, returning her banter.  “Is this same bed near windows to watch the storm and a fireplace to keep us warm?” 

“Well, I suppose it is,” Anólindë answered, pulling on her last boot and standing up,  “but I rather hoped I could use you to keep me warm.”

“I will see what I can arrange,” he answered wryly and offered her his hand.  “First we should get home.”  She took his offered hand and glanced back up into the sky as the rain began to fall in earnest.

“I do not think we can avoid the rain,” she said, looking back down at him, “so we will return home drenched in any case.  Do you wish to search for the rest of your clothes?” she inquired innocently, admiring him openly.

“I think perhaps I had better,” Thranduil replied, reaching out and placing one finger under her chin, returned her gaze to his face.  “I should hate to distract you before we reached home.  It would be a long way to carry you should you fall and injure yourself.”

She mock scowled at him, but quickly fell into step beside him as he started back through the trees.  In almost no time at all they found his clothes and he finished dressing.  They moved quickly as the storms let loose the rains in full force.  Then they raced together back to the comforts of home, laughing all the way.

**

The next morning the storm still raged.  Lamathen had enjoyed her morning immensely, watching the storm safely in her husband’s arms.  She was loath to leave her bed, but duty called her.  There was not a whole lot scheduled for the king that morning, but what little there was needed to be addressed.

She knocked on the king’s door and waited a moment for his customary reply.  He was usually almost ready to go when she arrived.  Today there was no answer.  She knocked again, thinking perhaps he had overslept.  She was about to knock again when a voice answered her.

“Lamathen, is that you?”

Lamathen paused, and then smiled, recognizing the voice as Anólindë’s.  “Yes it is, the king has several things on his agenda this morning.”

Through the door, Lamathen heard a muffled grunt and then Anólindë spoke again. “Reschedule them for this afternoon or tomorrow.  Tell them all to go home and enjoy the rain.  Also, please inform Thalarîn that we will join her for the noon meal. After all that is done, take the morning off.”

Lamathen grinned broadly, glad they could not see her.  “I will see to it,” she replied and departed, already planning on how to spend the remainder of her morning.

**

A/N: Thanks to Nilmandra for introducing me to that little curvy thing she calls a comma.