"An agent last saw Gurn Drivenn's traitors close to The Mark. He reports that they have broken their number and filtered into the lands, many of them. Some have embedded themselves in the Riddermark. Doubtless some are headed into Rhun. Their main body filters through trade routes, passes through open markets, and travels among the caravans to Gondor, my King. It is the most direct path, and one in which it is easiest to lose a man on horseback."
"Who was last to see his trail or men?"
"My King, it was Annundir." Dorondir said quietly.
Now the Elfking's head rose, "Your brother could track the passage of a moth over stone. If Drivenn stops moving, Annundir will find him."
Dorondir's head inclined gracefully, and a little further than was necessary for assent. "I shall tell him that you think so."
"He is not to engage. In fact… as there are Men of the Forces trained for surveillance, when Annundir does locate Drivenn, have him hold and observe until select among the Shadow Men can relieve him. An elf is out of place," he glanced at Samas, "but Men won't be."
"You have my word on that," said Samas.
"It has grown dangerous for elves to be abroad on the land, my Lord," Steed said with concern. "We should send the replacements quickly."
The Elfking sighed. "The evidence would argue it becomes difficult for elves to be abroad in the land unprotected. Elves like Annundir can hardly be described in such a fashion."
"Neither can you," said Steed, "Elvenking."
"The odds are low that there is an itinerant sorcerer roving the land with ampoules," he removed a dark red phial from his pocket, went to the table, and set it down on a tray, "filled with-"
"Dragon's blood." Lusis shot to her feet without thinking. She found herself pointing at it. "What are you doing with it?" She hurried around the table and snatched the flat-bottomed phial. It was hot enough, to the touch, to scorch her and smelled of that vague scent that made her hackles rise. Lusis held it out from herself by the silvery chain that connected the flask and the wax-sealed stopper. "Ugh. Doom's pits how do we get rid of this?"
The Elfking was fascinated by her behaviour. His tall body tipped a little right as if looking at her from that angle would somehow explain her reaction. "Lusis-dess, it needs proper study."
"It needs to be dumped into the deepest part of Long Lake with a rock tied on for good measure." She looked at the hated blood. "It is a curse waiting to happen!"
Quietly, he crossed to Lusis, and reached his long hand to the vial. His skin glowed with radiance when he closed his hand around the glass. He tucked it back into an inner pocket and told her, "It is less than an ounce of blood, and no more than that, Lusis. It cannot do me harm."
She couldn't quite prevent glaring at that. "You assume too much risk. There is no good to be had out of pondering dragon's blood."
A breath of winter trees passed around her when the King turned and resumed his place beside the window, "That is undecided yet, Lusis-dess."
She stared at his long, straight back, which was, in her opinion, unique, prized, and nothing at all like any other Sinda's. Lusis reminded herself that he was not frustrating her efforts to protect him on purpose, and that, while heart and mind were full of fire, the temperatures of the flames opposed one another. "I suspect you mean to hand it over to Osp so that he might pursue its components and various properties."
"That may be problematic after today." Said the Elfking, "Perhaps you will have your way."
"I doubt it. I wanted Nema Aragennya jailed, but she sits in all-too-comfortable house arrest at Buckmaster Station. Do you realize she is only leagues from this room?" Lusis pointed at the floor, "She is too close, and, I warn you, Nema is a dangerous woman."
The King stiffened, and his voice sounded dark and full of hate as he replied. "I know she is." He turned from her and looked out at the sunrise. He didn't speak about what had happened to him when he had been a thrall of Nema Aragennya. Lusis knew that he, unlike stricken Elrond, had still been aware while in captivity. She hated that worst of all.
"I pitied her," Lusis prowled along the table toward where he stood by the windows, "What a fool I was. My King, the dwarves offered to cage her in Erebor," in the very cage he'd been kept in, as a matter of fact. Lusis' teeth bared, "I think that would be very fitting."
He glanced down toward her, but without meeting her eyes, "Are you averse to information?"
"I'm averse to that woman. To anyone who would try to turn noble elves into living dolls."
For a moment, her King seemed frozen. Then his hand rose and he touched his forehead. "Lusis… thand. I cannot find fault with your animosity. Do you find fault with my love, Lusis-dess? I do not believe this is the end of our hardship. Our people suffer it, and it is for them that I… remain." He opened his graceful arms a fraction. "If Nema yet knows secrets among our foes, something valuable, for she is ever slippery, and endlessly connected, then we must keep her safe, comfortable… alive."
She hated it. Viscerally. Lusis only just stopped herself from telling him she should have killed the woman in the Counting Room. Instead, she focused on what she really feared. "And… do you mean to question her yourself? You know that you can get from her… anything you could dream to ask for." Lusis felt her displeasure surge. "Do you mean to see her face? Hear her voice? For your people?"
He looked away at the sun. "Ai, of all days… why business? Why today?" His head came up, as if astonished he'd said such a thing aloud. "If an attempt is made on her life, I will consider it a sign that our enemy is not vanquished."
Lusis' lips curled, "I'd consider it a sign that a member of the house staff has good taste. Aside from this, I urge you to remember that your wellbeing is the affair of a nation of elves, and a city of Men. Answer me-"
A pair of elves crossed the room and laid documents on the table. They minced away quietly to where Ewon stepped aside and let them out the door again. In her urgency, Lusis had nearly forgotten anyone else was there.
She breathed deeply before she continued, "Will you deal with that poison-painted maw of hers again?" If he had to, she had already decided she would be there. Her hand was already on her sword hilt as she thought about it.
The Elfking tipped his head up. He… shook out his silver cascade of hair, grown long from the tour. Lusis had never seen him do such a thing. She'd not noted the twitch of motion of any elf. Slowly, he returned to looking out the window. "With hope… I will never need to lay eyes on her again, nor shall she ever behold me or my sons, or my own in her remaining life. And if she should, by chance or accident of fate… it will be her last hour in this world." The room fell silent until the Elfking added. "However, getting her to talk has been… difficult of late, Yellow Istari. You did shatter her jaw." The King's blameless silver eyes peeked in her direction. His soft smile had returned.
Lusis pinched the bridge of her nose, and then swept back to her seat, "Blame me if you like. But it was like a teacup. I could have broken it with a hard word, I swear."
Half the table chuckled.
The King looked strangely pleased.
The door knocked, or rather, someone came to knock the doorframe. Ewon had allowed this to happen, so there was nothing to fear in it. Helin lingered, noiselessly out of sight, just inside. But there was no need for alarm – the elf could see this on the faces of the humans and elves in the room, which either smiled, or warmed.
Bess Bowman, her good black axe strapped to her back, stood in the doorway. She wore new leathers in brown and blue, a fur cloak of beaver pelts, elven boots to match, and a bright smile. "Do you know the hour, my King?"
Now the Elvenking exhaled the tension that was tightening his chest and shoulders. He started toward the door – only started – and that was enough for Amathon to come away from the wall and take up the War Circlet of the Elvenking. He held it with loving care as he approached the King. But the King merely set his fingertips against the woven Mithril, to push it gently away. "Baw. Not the crown of war, my young Elite.
Not today."
Bess stepped aside from the double doors and gestured toward the hall. "Greatest Elvenking, you told the staff to summon you at dawn, and here I am."
The King paused to look at her, "You are a princess."
"I am a friend of the King," she bowed her head to him. "And I would not miss the day for the price of a Kingdom." Bess broke out in unabashed smiles and glanced to one side of him, "Lady Lusis, are you ready?"
She wasn't sure, actually. "I don't know what goes into this sort of a thing." She glanced from Lord Elrond to the King and back, and followed them. She wasn't the only one, seeing as the Council and Rangers were all invited to the occasion.
Eithahawn eased in beside her and tipped his red-golden head. "Are you anxious, Lusis-Istari?"
Truthfully she was, and so she gave a single incline of her head. She was learning to do that where, once, she might have nodded.
"I don't believe there is record… of an Agreement Celebration attended by humans in the Mirkwood." He said lightly. "Eventful." But he said it as if there were misgivings about this among the elves, and Lusis could understand why from the next question to arise from this.
Cardoc Wence, Master of Lumber, was never one to steer clear of a festival of any kind. He glanced over at her and then up at Eithahawn. "If I may ask a question, Prince Eithahawn-"
"Lord." Eithahawn's lashes lowered and his head bent in humility.
The Elfking, just steps ahead said, "Prince is what I would expect among humans, ion. You will exhaust yourself trying to apply elven corrections to their perceptions of royalty and succession."
Wence scrutinized Eithahawn. "I'm sorry, Lord. I thought you were his son."
"Forgive me for confusing you. I am his son. That is not the same as being a Prince," Eithahawn made that clear. "What is your question, Master of Lumber?"
"Are they to be married then?"
The Kingdom's-seneschal was one of the few who had been selected to speak to the humans about the matter. "The King is already married."
Jan Kasia tapped Wence's elbow and said, "Ask quietly. Be careful, Car. But ask – I've always wanted to know."
"Where is the Queen?"
Eithahawn's face averted, but not significantly. He'd dealt with human brusqueness almost daily for half a year now, in the queue of Petitioners in the Mirkwood. Experience had given him insight about when Men meant to wound, and when they did not. He had learned to watch their faces rather than to try to rifle through their unspoken thoughts. In this matter, he felt their curiosity was natural. "Queen Ithileth is in the West… without her beloved King and without her son."
"And you're not her son?"
"Indeed, I am not," he confessed. "But being in the West does not break the bond between husband and wife. It places it in a permanent state of abeyance. Adar cannot be married to Lusis-dess."
Lusis had heard this explanation only once before. This morning, fresh out of her bath, she'd had an elf standing in her doorway with her face downcast. A tall Sinda wearing a dress of pale green and two layers of winter cloaks. Mithiel, who was the royal Protocol Authority.
She nodded her head at the ground, unable to forestall the action as she could never quite submerge what was human in her. Ahead, already on the staircase, went the King. She idly wondered at his feelings. Not knowing their extent made her decide to be personally cautious. One could love a fire's heat without going up in flames. The key was loving it at a safe distance. The cooler part of her head had already mastered that art when it came to him. It was clear something had broken inside of the great Sinda elf. Perhaps it was the shocks of so many Ages. Whenever he spoke about love, it was as a utility. The word had no other sense than an apparatus. He treated it like a lever. It lifted the Kingdom so that he could inventory and tidy everything underneath, and assured he could chart his course through it. It raised the banner for his subjects. He leaned on it whenever he needed loyalty to be pledged, and things to be done according to plan. 'Do you love me and my Kingdom on the lake, Jan Kasia?'
She caught sight of Dorondir somewhere off to her left. He felt her glance, or perhaps spied it, peripherally. When he returned it, he was warm, reassuring. Lusis felt she might have closed the distance between them in a matter of minutes. But she inclined her head to him and went down the first few steps to find the King waiting for her on the landing. He offered his pale hand to help her down. Whatever else their Contract did, it was written so that casual contact was no longer taboo. She put her hand in his, gratefully. These Scout dresses were long and layered – far more ornate than a real woman Scout would ever wear. In narrow staircases, they were tricky.
"No more of these," she told him, and pointed downward.
The King's brows quirked. "Stairs?"
Lusis smothered a laugh. As if he didn't know what was making her peevish.
In the downstairs hall, Bess stepped aside and let the King into the main building. Men began to applaud as soon as he appeared with Lusis beside him. She released his hand and let him take the final few steps forward, so that the winter sun could fall upon him from the upper floors. He looked up at the humans that ringed the balconies and a hush fell around him. The King spoke formal words in Sindarin, and then gave loose translation, "I should like to see you all, as Lake Township joins its friends in the Greenwood to celebrate Agreement. Please be with us today."
Applause rolled through the floors.
Cold-eyed, Lusis searched the crowd for weapons. It had become her ingrained hobby since the Township had been betrayed, and she'd caught more than one sleeper out to injure or kill officials. Legolas had flawlessly shot down a man who had decided to put a blade into the King's back, or, more accurately, to try. Glorfindel had run-through a former Forces man who had snuck into Jan Kasia's offices to attack the Kingdom's-seneschal, for it was known that Lord Eithahawn did business from the main building. But Dorondir and the Aglareb had begun weeding through the Forces in earnest and there had been no further actions.
All she saw now was joy, gladness, and a marked politesse about this Very Elven Thing they didn't understand, to which they'd been invited. Kasia had had meetings with them, she'd heard, where he'd tried to explain. It was a marriage that wasn't a marriage at all. An agreement that wasn't anything near as ordinary as an agreement.
Lusis didn't know what it was, just that she wanted it. And she wanted it to be over. She wanted to vanish into the background again, so that she could protect him. Instead, as he turned, his hand unthinkingly reached for hers. His tapering fingers searching. She wrapped her fingers around his as if guiding him through the dark.
The Elfking glanced at her. "We must part now."
"I suppose they want to sand away my scars and varnish my hair, our elven friends." She said, but even as she turned to see him, the general pooling of elves in the main building had pushed them apart. His silver eyes glinted as he glanced over her.
Likewise, many of the women elves were pulling her away from him.
"It's all right," Nimpeth glided in beside her and favoured her with a rare, broad smile. "This is all a part of Agreement ceremonies. Melethron o melethril – they must be parted. Or friend from friend, as the contract may be, such as with Glorfindel and his Lord, Elrond."
They were contracted friends? Lusis' brows rose.
Bess Bowman, who was just ahead of Lusis, began to beam, "To be part of a hidden ceremony such as this – how thrilling!"
"What is the Sindarin for 'nerve-racking'?" Lusis muttered, and Nimpeth blurted an unthinking laugh, before she could stay herself.
So Lusis didn't resist, but she also didn't move. Not until she caught sight of Ewon and two senior Elites with the King. They had long since earned her trust. Celondir, now fully recovered, broke from the general knot of edhel to bow after Lusis and Nimpeth. He had already told Lusis, many times, that his life was in her debt. Lusis lowered her lids and inclined her head in respect – she'd just recently learned the meaning of this one, from an amazed Eithah
awn, in fact, who hadn't realized such a gesture meant nothing but 'Yes' or 'Hi' to humans.
Celondir smiled at her. He was handsome and dimpled, and she felt happy every time she saw him hale.
They'd lost elves in this last battle. Losses would never cease to haunt them.
Aside from which, Lusis had the sneaking suspicion that young Telfeth was wistfully sweet on this particular elf, in spite of the fact he was far older than she was. That made the tall and private red-head even more interesting. She saw that Celondir stopped to flank Eithahawn.
A good friend.
10th March, 3007
Winter's tender fingers fumbled across the harp strings. Several discordant notes rang out as her unpractised hands attempted to summon a tune.
She stopped in resignation.
As a single-minded banjo player, it was rather disconcerting to attempt a second instrument. Oh, certainly, she could fiddle away on a piano fairly well, but mainly by ear and a rudimentary knowledge of the keys. The harp was another creature entirely.
Aeglossel had coached her for several afternoons with unmatched patience. Winter had willingly devoted hours to the cause, with no social appointments until the following week. Admittedly, the harp lessons were an unmitigated relief from worrying. It seemed that, in every other task, her mind was held captive by fear about her chance meeting with Boromir.
The Steward's son could not possibly approach her until her introduction at court. It would be unorthodox to call upon a lady without a formal meeting. Still, even the knowledge that nothing could happen for some days left Winter feeling nervous. Perhaps he was thinking of their first meeting. Yet what if he had forgotten her? Or found her repulsive and did not wish to associate in future?
I'm not sure what's worse, Winter thought, grimly.
At any rate, her pique at the harp's difficulty drove these thoughts from her mind. Her worries travelled with her everywhere else, including her shifts in the Houses. Thankfully, Ioreth had not relegated her to the store room again. She was once more part of a coterie of apprentice Healers, flitting about at Ioreth's whims and learning Gondor's remedies. Just this morning, Winter had been instructed in the setting of a simple broken arm. She'd performed her duty admirably, though she wasn't sure she could forget the dull pain in the small boy's eyes as she had treated him.
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