Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

33. The Host

It is early eventide when we reach the stables, the forest a dusky grey. But the trees are gloriously alive, even though their branches are barren from the cold. The evil has not yet touched them. Home is a welcome sight.

The stablehands say nothing at our arrival, but their questioning eyes scan our soaked apparel as we dismount Gilroch. I offer no excuse. Neither does Thranduil. Our close friendship is well known in the kingdom, but with the rumor abound of an unhappy marriage, I cannot deny I am afraid our curious excursion will provide more fodder for the village gossips.

I rub Gilroch's muzzle in gratitude before departing and hope he will remember me next time. If there is a next time. The thought of never returning to the golden pool is too much to contemplate. A groom helps walk the beast to his stall and closes the gate door, a home far too small to contain him.

"If you set him free from that prison, I do not believe he would leave you."

Thranduil says nothing for a while, as though contemplating my words. "In only a day's ride you claim to understand him more than any other."

"He is much like Legolas. And you, also."

After ensuring all gates are secure, the young grooms leave the stables to return home for their suppers, a lone guard remaining to protect the animals. A horse suddenly makes a loud whicker.

"What do you mean?" asks Thranduil.

"He does not belong secluded in a stable, cut off from the world. He is an explorer, a warrior. He requires freedom to be who he is truly is. But if he remains secluded, he will forget. Perhaps he will become afraid."

Thranduil keeps silent as we head to the caves.

The amber lights of the stone halls are a warm contrast to the bleakness of the winter forest, the cavern stream like a gentle song. Looking forward to a warm bath and dry clothes, and also hoping not to run into any inquisitive neighbors, I say farewell to Thranduil and quicken my steps to reach my chambers.

As I begin to turn the handle, the door to the adjacent room opens. I stand frozen in place.

"Ada."

His eyes widen as he notices my attire. "Mae athollen, iellig. Have you been through a rainstorm? The skies were clear when last I was outside."

If there is anyone I feel safe telling, it is my father. He knows my friendship with the King better than anyone. "Nay, I was with Thranduil."

His puzzled expression softens to a smile. "Your time was enjoyable, I hope?"

Of all the questions he could have asked, this one catches me off guard completely. I shift my weight to the other leg. "It...yes, it was."

"That is good to hear, iell nín. You deserve a little fun."

My confusion must be obvious. Does he know where we were? Thranduil did not mention Ada's name among the small list of the pool's visitors, but perhaps he is aware of its existence.

"I am leaving to visit Randir, brother of Noruidor the Smith," he says. "He has sought my counsel on a business matter. And I am feeling generous."

"What kind of business matter?"

"I do not yet know, but his ideas have become bolder of late. I suppose it is to be expected given his recent dealings with the Men of Dale."

"Take care, Ada. Do not stay out too late."

I watch him leave, my hand still touching the handle to my rooms. He acted as if there was nothing strange about me returning on an outing with the King in a wet gown. Perhaps his mind was preoccupied with his meeting with Randir.