A Yuletide Conversation

A Yuletide Conversation
By Morannun

The elves of Eryn Lasgalen (called Mirkwood in the common tongue) was a wood, alive with light, laughter and music as the wood elves came together in the woodland court of Thranduil to feast and make merry in the celebrated festive holiday of Yuletide. Cakes, fruits, seasoned meats and a variety of other delectable dishes were washed down with liberal amounts of wine and sweet mead and all the elves from palace servant to soldier and scout feasted as one under the canopied trees, boughs laden with silver and gold lamps, and, round bright vermilion fires in circles of stone.

Most elves were at the Yuletide celebrations, save Thranduil, King of the woodland elves and his dearest servant Galion the butler. Instead, both were deep inside the king’s subterranean palace, in the heart of his throne-room, sharing a rather troubling and worrisome conversation.

“Mortality. The bane of Men and the grief of Elves who tie themselves too tightly to mortal friends and lovers”, Thranduil wearily rubbed his brow and sank listlessly to his gilded throne. “My youngest son Galion. The child of my heart will suffer the bitterness and regret of loving mortals when their short lives end and he is left wanton and lonesome in a world of shadows and gnawing grief. He will be lost to me and I am powerless to stop it” he sighed and bowed his golden head. “What am I to do Galion?” he murmured, piteous and vulnerable, “How am I to save him from himself?”

Galion sighed and gazed worriedly at his lord and king, clutching like a drowning man to the arms of his throne as if it were the only rock in the storm of his qualms and concerns about prince Legolas’s welfare, that could hold firm and bear him through. “I have not the answer my King” he replied, feeling uneasier the longer he lingered in Thranduil’s presence. “I am a simple butler who knows naught but the mundane matters of court-life and service, rather than Lore and the teachings of wisdom and advice. Mithrandir is wiser in such matters than I my Lord. Mayhap I could fetch him for you, or send a message. I am certain he would come if you willed it my King”.

“I would not trouble him with such matters of my house Galion” Thranduil replied, giving his butler a wearied glance, “Mithrandir is concerned more for the ways of Middle-Earth than the worries of a troubled King contemplating the future of a royal son”. The King of Eryn Lasgalen did not miss Galion’s tentative glance or the subtle shift of his feet from left to right as he shuffled apprehensively at the sight of his King and Lord so perturbed. Thranduil was oft a stern but compassionate ruler and bore himself with the steadfast confidence and unwavering dignity of a seasoned veteran and competent monarch, to see him otherwise was unnerving to the butler Galion, who had served him loyally for many years (but had rarely seen him so disconcerted).

Thranduil was a private elf, who kept much of his personal feelings in check and more oft then not preferred to sort familial matters out on his own. This time however Galion could see, was an exception and it made him uneasy, for he was a very mundane elf with little family of his own as he had never married and to be asked such a personal question of familial concern he felt, was altogether none of his business. “My Lord, I do not mean offence”, he replied, gazing uneasily at Thranduil. “But, I believe that I am not best suited to offer either counsel or advice in such delicate matters concerning prince Legolas. I am but a faithful servant Lord with little knowledge of how to be either husband to a wife or father to children and so, mayhap it is best if I do not give advice. I have neither the knowledge, wisdom nor experience to offer it”. He blushed embarrassedly for he (save his parents and four siblings) was the only elf of his immediate family that was unwed and childless, a sad stain that was ever a source of regret in his usually happy and mundane life.

Thranduil sighed as he glanced at Galion and saw the melancholic gloom in the elf’s eyes “Nonsense”, he said, rising from his seat and crossing the marble floor of the throne-room to stand before the dependable elf that had devotedly served him for most of his life. “You are wise in more ways than just simple service and court-life”, he said, placing wearied but firm hands on the butler’s shoulders in a gesture of trust and comradeship. “You Galion have enriched the lives of all my children by doing those things at times with them that I could not”.

Galion opened his mouth to protest, but Thranduil eyed him so fiercely that he fell silent.

“You read to them fables and histories when I was far from court marshalling the warriors and scouts to keep watch on the borders of the kingdom for the fell creatures of Sauron. You taught them the customs of trading with the men of Dale and the subtleties of court-life, manners and decencies when I was ensconced in matters of the White Council near and far from our kingdom. You tucked them into bed at night and whispered my apologies in the candlelight when I could not be there because the pressures of ruling drew me away from home”. Thranduil sighed and gazed gratefully at the elf upon whom he had heavily relied after his wife and queen had been tragically slain and he had been left a widower with five children to care for (three headstrong elder sons, the fourth a proud daughter and the last, the child of his heart, most akin in face and temperament to his beloved wife and Queen, Legolas Greenleaf, twice named for the woodland, his mother had loved in life).

“You Galion, were there for my children when I could not be, and, yet when I was able to spend time with them, graciously you stepped aside and allowed me to resume the fatherly duties I had so sorely neglected”. He smiled and gripped Galion’s shoulders so tightly the elf winced. “You have done more for me and mine than what was required of you” Thranduil continued, his usually calm composure slipping away moment by moment. “And you have borne more burdens perhaps than I should have laid on you” the King of Mirkwood said sorrowfully, easing his hold and gazing both repentantly and jadedly at his servant. “Such were my burdens of anguish and fury, for the murder of my Queen and despair for the hurts of my children, yet too young to understand and accept such crippling loss. My burdens Galion, mine alone that only I should have borne for that was and is my responsibility as an elf-lord and King and as a father who should have been strong for his children. Yet I was not strong enough and instead on you most of all I laid heavy my burdens and robbed you of the life, family and future you should have had with Emeldir, the maid who loved you”.

“Thrice guilty I am then, for failing my queenly wife and not being at her side when the orcs attacked and dragged her to her death; for failing you Galion, and laying thick my burdens upon your shoulders and stealing from you the one thing you have ever yearned for: a wife and children of your own; and lastly for leaving Legolas, last-borne of my house and my heart’s joy, to fend for himself amidst the lands of Men and make doomed friendships with those who will eventually die and pass beyond the circles of the world and leave him grieving and alone in the shadows of mourning”. Thranduil sighed and sank to his knees and clutched at Galion as a drowning man would a rock in the sea. “I have failed you all” he said, tears springing in his eyes and trickling like saline pearls down his smooth cheeks. “For me there can be no forgiveness”.

“My Lord!” Galion cried, astounded and fearful of Thranduil’s sudden aggrieved despair that seemed to permeate the very air around him in a fog of gloom and despondency. “My Lord please stand and do not speak nor feel thus!” the butler implored, struggling to pull the anguished king to his feet with shaking hands. “You have committed neither crime nor error against any of us my Lord! There is nothing that needs forgiveness!”

“Nay” Thranduil murmured, squeezing Galion’s hands and sighing wearily, “You say and think thus because you do not know the truth, and, you believe thus because you do not wish to doubt me or have cause to doubt me” he laughed bitterly and released Galion’s hands. “Hate me you would! If you and all the court knew why indeed my queen left the palace and wandered abroad in the wood with neither weapon nor guard ere the day she was caught and brutally slain by Sauron’s foul servants! Loathe me you would! If you knew of the deviousness I had done to keep you unwed and childless! Detest me you would! If you knew the deeds I had done to drive Legolas away from court and entice him to seek more the company of trees and strange folk than that of his own kin!” Thranduil gazed sullenly at Galion and smiled grimly, “Hate, loathe and detest me you would! If you knew the nature of my mind and spirit behind the façade of benevolent Lord and King!” he exclaimed, handsome face a grimace of fierce self-abhorrence. “You do not know whom and what I truly am Galion”, he said, “You do not know”.

“Nay Lord!” Galion protested, face ashen, “I would not! I could not! I cannot feel thus for the Lord and King I have served all my life and neither would your subjects! For they as I, have come to love you Lord, for the valour, courage and strength you have leant in the leading of us through war, famine, despair and all things dark that leak in stagnant tides from the shadowed mires of Dôl Guldur!” The fear in Galion’s eyes waned and pride waxed therein and his eyes were round and wide like silver moons as he gazed at Thranduil and perceived in him the elf-lord, tall, wise and steadfast, the son and heir of Oropher, that he and his people had come to love, admire and respect. “Strong, courageous and benevolent you have been to all Silvan folk who have ever resided in Eryn Lasgalen and to those who have travelled from our borders into the lands abroad and invested their lives therein with hope in their hearts kindled as a spark to tinder by your example of unwavering valour and kingship”.

A chill wind blew through the throne-room’s wide oak doors and broad un-shuttered windows, and one by one extinguished the room’s many flickering candles, ensconced torches and smouldering braziers, gradually drowning the room in oppressive darkness.

“I am not what you believe me to be” Thranduil replied from the shadows, face concealed in the lightless dim, “I am not who you believe me to be”.

Sometime later Thranduil’s woodland folk drew together and as one danced and sang in the firelight, long hair loose and streaming about their shoulders and feet skipping nimbly in time to the melody woven by their dulcet voices. Smiles wreathed every face and all eyes shone with the joy of Yuletide and the celebration of cohesion and unity the holiday promised every year.

But Thranduil, King of the woodland elves and Galion his dearest servant, were absent from the annual Yuletide celebrations and did not take part in the festivities and so both did not receive the holiday cheer or feel the unity it gave.

Instead, Thranduil sank into his gilded throne and sat listless and anguished as the night wore on and he was lost in his sombre and depressive thoughts.
Galion sought his own chambers and there spent the night alone, curled in his blankets, reflecting on the troubling conversation he’d had with the king.

Yet despite their absences, the woodland elves continued to feast and make merry deep into the night, with neither thought or worry for the absence of their king and his servant. For often in the past it had been Thranduil’s way to envelop himself in matters of court during Yuletide and leave the merry-making to his people and at those times Galion, the king’s butler had never been far from his side.

So the celebrations continued into the depths of the night till the stars wheeled and turned in their murky blue beds and were hidden behind round white clouds, grazing like fat sheep in a field of cerulean. The sun rose like a gold fruit on the horizon and bathed the woodland realm in light and warmth, and an early dawn greeted many elves who still were celebrating the Yuletide festivities and would continue to do so for seven more days and nights, while Thranduil, their king sank further into his anguished thoughts and Galion grew ever more troubled and listless.

FIN