Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

16. Like Snowfall in Midsummer

Ada is sitting in his favorite chair near the unlit hearth. An unfurled map of Valinor rests in his lap, the edges threatening to return to their original rolled state. One hand keeps the scroll flattened while the other loosely grips the delicate glass of his wine goblet. I am reluctant to interrupt his peace. But there is no one else. Faeleth is a world away, beyond the forest and over the perilous Misty Mountains. Middle-earth's great hurdle. More than ever I long for my sister's comfort.

"Did you know he had feelings for you?"

I stare into the empty hearth, rubbing the fabric of my sleeve between my thumb and forefinger. "I...suspected he was interested. Thranduil was adamant about it."

"His intuition is unrivaled."

"Yes." Letting go of my sleeve, I swipe under my eyes again. "I thought it was a passing fancy, a superficial curiosity...nothing more."

"I see." He steeples his hands under his chin and studies me, his gray eyes probing. "Why did you believe it was nothing more?"

I open my mouth to form a response, then pause. My throat tightens. "This is not about the past, Ada."

"Are you certain? Since Lord Ne--"

"Please do not speak his name."

"Since the day he left your life," Ada persists, "you have underestimated yourself. You allowed his puerile words to shatter your confidence and belief someone could find you lovable."

I clench my jaw. His choice of wording is coincidental and well-meant, but it is yet another piercing arrow to a gaping wound. Elros' comment already resides in the forefront of my mind, taunting me, but now I hear it louder, clearer, with more emphasis. "You are both...unlovable."

Unlovable.

If only Ada knew what he fears me believing is exactly what I heard today. I have not mentioned it to him, nor Elros mentioning my peculiarity. Ada is peaceable, not one prone to angry outbursts, but in this instance he would find offense, perhaps even confront him. It is better to let Elros leave tomorrow and let the matter to wash away with the summer rains.

"Elros hardly knows me," I say. "It is that fact which kept me from believing he felt something more, not a lack of confidence on my part."

"Then what keeps you from opening yourself to love?"

I stand. He is nothing if not determined. Regardless of my trying day, he has found a way to broach the topic again. Can he not see my suffering? Perhaps not. I keep my deepest wounds buried, far from the exposing light.

My fingers touch the grainy texture of the wood ledge above the hearth. I release a heavy breath.

"I have never said I am not open to love. Only that I have no intention of marrying. It will take great love for me to be swayed."

My own confession comes to me as a surprise. Like a snowfall in midsummer, I am unsure if I believe it.

"Then you have given me hope, for your heart has softened a little." Ada's eyes reflect a flicker of light. "Perhaps it is because you already know great love and have not recognized it."

I give a humorless laugh. "I do not love Elros."

"I did not m--"

"He is conceited. Thranduil has observed it as well. I told him Gwendes loved him, and he had the impertinence to ask if she was my red-haired friend. As if he needed verification." I shake my head and sit down again. "I fear for his future wife. I doubt she will know of his cruelty."

He covers my hand with his. "Forgive him, iell nín. While I do not defend his behavior, I believe it arose from a place of embarrassment at your rejection. It does not seem he is acquainted with being wrong...about anything."

"I can believe that."

"With age comes wisdom and humility. He is younger than you, as I recall. Let us hope he will learn from this incident."

We fall into a comfortable silence, and my gaze returns to the empty hearth. I imagine a roaring fire there, its blanketing warmth emanating through my father's chamber and lessening winter's chill. Thranduil sits in the chair opposite mine, envisioning plans for the future while Ada tells stories from the past. I enjoy listening to them, interjecting a comment here and there, telling a story or two of my own. Those are my favorite nights, and always have been. If it only was such a night.

I blink and the fire is gone. It is summer again. My thoughts drift back to reality. How ironic it is that Elros, with his air of superiority, has fallen into the same trap as Gwendes. Both believe they are in love with someone they do not know. I, too, believed it once.

"What creates infatuation, Ada?"

He looks up from his map. "An attraction, kind words, a glance, or even an appreciation. That is how it often begins: innocently. But then imagination begets an idea, one far exceeding reality. A person will believe themselves in love with someone, when really they are only in love with their idea."

It is the simplest of explanations, yet it speaks to a deep part of my heart. I look down at my lap. "Then what creates love?"

"Love..." He repeats the words, cocking his head to the side. "It is often born from friendship. From knowing someone's faults and accepting them, the good and bad and everything which lies between. From them speaking a language your heart understands. Infatuation is temporary, but love deepens with time."

"Infatuation has ensnared many, has it not?"

"Yes." His face turns solemn. "The Eldar are not immune, by any means."