“Daeron, enough.” Thingol sighed as the musicians abruptly halted their playing and the court minstrel sang a note off-key before stopping himself. “This is a feast of great joy, not a time for you to air your personal grievances. If I hear another song of lover’s scorn from you... just go. I tire of your voice sometimes,” he muttered as Daeron stepped down from the platform. With a forlorn look, the minstrel bowed, his eyes shifting in an attempt to catch the favor of Luthien.
Once the chief bard had removed himself from the stage, Thingol motioned for the entertainment and dancing to continue. At a table far removed from the rest of the crowd, Oropher yawned, looking somewhat bored. “I rather liked that song,” he said, plucking another bunch of grapes from a bowl at the center of the table. Hisre and Thaladir were currently among the dancers, leaving Thranduil at the table with his father and Erestor. Avisiel, never one for parties, opted to stay at home with the children.
Without Daeron, the rest of the musicians were not as exciting to be heard. Though they had rhythm and intonation, they lacked any emotional quality. By the end of the song, most pairs were wandering out of the center of the hall and back to their tables. At the front of the room, Thingol drummed his fingers against the top of his table. Oropher smirked, nudging Erestor to look, but the scribe barely took notice before returning to the wine goblet he had been nursing.
“Is there no one else here who can sing?” demanded Thingol, standing up at his table.
Melian stood up suddenly beside him. “The feast has been splendid; perhaps everyone is simply tiring.”
Her air of grace and attempt to diffuse the situation did not work. Thingol had been scanning the room, and Thranduil grimaced behind his hand when the king’s eyes fell upon their table. “Erestor! Come up here; give us a song.”
Uneasily, Erestor glanced over at Oropher, and then slowly rose. Hisre and Thaladir had been on their way back, and he passed them as he slowly walked the length of the room. Everyone parted for him, leaving a wide path for him to walk. When he reached the head table, he stood before the king and queen. “You are requesting that I sing for you?”
“Is there wax in your ears? Yes, yes, and yes again!” Thingol made a dismissive motion in the direction of the stage, but Erestor did not go yet.
“Why do you want me to sing?” he questioned.
Elu Thingol let out a long, weary sigh. “This is the Queen’s Feast; she has made it known to me these past few weeks that she would delight in hearing you sing. You do wish to show respect to your queen, do you not?”
Cautiously, Erestor met Melian’s eyes with his, and she continued to smile. Thranduil held his breath- it seemed there was someone else who knew Erestor’s carefully hidden secret. With great concern, but trying to exude an appearance of indifference, Thranduil watched as Erestor walked up the stairs to the raised platform. He went to the musicians and obtained from one a stringed instrument that was much like a lute. Experimentally, he danced his finger up one string and down to find the chords while Thingol impatiently cleared his throat. “I apologize that this is not a song suitable for dancing,” said Erestor.
Erestor’s song was a mixture of ballad and something altogether indescribable, with fast notes and words, but nothing at all like a waltz. It was almost harsh with every chorus that he sang, making the normally beautiful Quenya sound like a curse:
I trusted you, protected you, never rejected you
You were my stars, my sky, my life
I cared for you, loved you, put nothing else above you
I would have bound to you and made you my wife
But I was
Just another stone in your path
Now you’re facing the wrath
You turned around without looking back at me
Left me to die
And I’ll never know why
But for you – I’ll cross the sea
I wasn’t
Part of your plan
Then to the East you ran
Not a thought of what you’d do to me
You still hold my soul
I want you to just let me go
Why won’t you just set me free?
But I was
Just another stone in your path
Now you’re facing the wrath
You turned around without looking back at me
Left me to die
And I’ll never know why
But for you – I’ll cross the sea
Somewhere in my mind
I’m still with you
In our little house
The one with the view
When I come through the door
At the end of the day
I hold you close
You tell me to stay
We sit close together
I tuck our son into bed
But none of that will happen now
Because of everything you never said
I was
Just a stone in your path
Now you’re facing the wrath
You turned around without looking back at me
I’d still do it all again
Even knowing how it ends
For you, my love, I crossed the sea
For you... I crossed the sea
Looking not at all pleased, Thingol stood up again amid the applause. “That,” he announced, “was rubbish.”
At the table in the back, Thranduil simply started to clap harder. His father gently forced his hands down onto the table as the cheer ceased.
“What sort of mockery was that?” demanded the king. Erestor looked down blankly at him from his spot on the stage, while the other musicians cringed. “Sing it again, so I can understand you. In Sindarin this time.”
As Thingol lowered himself into his seat, he heard something he probably did not expect to hear.
“No,” answered Erestor defiantly.
Melian paled and Luthien covered a hand over her mouth. “What did you say?” demanded Thingol, midway between sitting and standing.
“I will not sing it again for you, and I shall never sing it in Sindarin. It is not meant to be heard in that tongue, and I will not change it for you or anyone else.” Erestor released hold of the instrument, for its owner had rushed over to claim it before huddling once again with the others at the rear of the stage.
Regaining his full height, Thingol pointed at Erestor. “You have not been given leave to decide how you will and will not do things. I would be well within my rights as king to have you put to death.” Several gasps of disbelief came from throughout the room, and Melian put her hand upon Thingol’s arm. He shrugged her off. “Do not make me ask you again. I am your king.”
“You are not my king.” This was even more shocking to those in the hall than the words Thingol had just said, and there were even a few ladies who fainted. “You can ask me,” said Erestor, taking a step down from the stage. “You can tell me.” Another step. “You can even try to force me.” He was on the ground now and walked to Thingol. “But, no matter what, it will not happen. I cannot be faulted because you were too lazy to learn such a simple language.”
“Oh, Erestor, you should not have said that,” muttered Oropher, who had been watching everything as calmly as possible from the back of the room. Thranduil felt ill as he watched the king call for the guards. It was Thingol himself who took the manacles from Guilin and set about tightening the restraints on Erestor’s wrists before all those in attendance.
Thranduil reached the front of the room to hear Guilin advising Thingol. “M’lord, if you tighten them too tight, you’re going to break his wrists.”
“It would not be half the punishment I have in mind for him,” growled the king as he twisted the rod in the center once more. “Where are you going?” demanded Thingol as Thranduil made to follow after Guilin and Erestor.
“I have been assigned to him as counsel. It is my right to be with him.” Whether or not it truly was, Thranduil was unsure, but Thingol considered this for only a moment before motioning that Thranduil was given leave to exit the room. He caught up with the guards, and soon was in the dungeons again, with Erestor locked on one side, and he sitting on the other.
After the door of the main chamber was closed and locked, Erestor sank to the floor and began to shake. “What was I thinking?” he asked himself as he wrapped his arms around his chest. “Why did I do that?” His voice had jumped up nearly and octave, and Thranduil sat helplessly trying to think of a solution. “I’ve ruined everything. I just... threw away whatever chance- well, your father can still carry on his plans without me.” Erestor stared down at the floor. “I was never really much of a necessity when it came down to it.”
“Erestor, stop talking nonsense.” Thranduil waited for his mentor to look up. “Somehow, we will figure things out. I do not know how right at this moment, but there must be a way.”
“I will not apologize to him,” said Erestor sternly, his voice back to the low hush it normally was. “He does not deserve it, not for demanding such things of others with that haughty attitude of his.” They sat in silence for a while. “What do you think he will do to me?” asked Erestor at last, more to make conversation and less for really wanting Thranduil’s opinion from what the blond could tell.
“At worst, death. At best, banishment.” Thranduil shook his head. “Unless he still has some use or need for you...” A click was heard on the other side of the door. Thinking it was perhaps Thingol, Thranduil stood up and brushed back his hair to make himself a little more presentable. Into the chamber walked Melian, and the door behind her was closed but not locked. Thranduil bowed to the queen, but her gaze was set on Erestor.
Slowly, the maia approached the cell. “I wondered about you,” whispered Melian after the door had been closed. “I saw it in your eyes, the very first time I met you.”
Erestor did not deny or confirm whatever it was Melian referred to, but it was obvious. As a ainu, she would know another when she saw one, even one who was only half.
“All he wants,” hissed Melian, holding onto one of the cold metal bars for support, “is for you to denounce whatever king this is whom you claim is yours, and to accept him as your lord.”
“That I can not do,” answered Erestor. “I will not bow to him as being above my king and my lord.”
“And who is that?” Melian looked to Thranduil when Erestor simply laughed sardonically and picked at the straw on the ground. “Whom is he speaking about?” she demanded. “Is it your father? Is it Finwe? Who?”
Thranduil shook his head, not wanting to supply the answer for Erestor, but unsure of what to do as he was being asked a question by the queen herself. Erestor stood up suddenly, not bothering to dust off the straw that clung to his clothing. “Of whom do I speak? Hast thou been away from home so long, thou doest not recall thine own king and Lord?”
Melian took a step back, still holding onto the bar. “You can not seriously mean Him. Aye, He is our leader in spirit, but here, in Middle-earth, in Doriath, it is Thingol who is king.”
“Not my king. My king sits on a throne of gold, crafted by the hands of Aule, and surrounded by the songs of all his birds and the shadows of his clouds. My king is Manwe, and ever shall be, unless Illuvatar tells me otherwise.” Erestor was as close as he could get to the bars, holding onto one with each hand. “I am here because it is His will, not because it is yours. I am here because He wants me to be, for whatever reason, and I put my trust in Him.”
“Fine. If that is how you wish it, I shall speak with Manwe,” replied Melian, letting go of the bar. Her wrist was caught in Erestor’s hand, which had shot out from between the bars and grabbed hold of her. She flinched, but did not jerk away. Thranduil stood from his chair, but felt as if his feet would not move. Melian waited for Erestor to explain himself, which he did, but in a voice Thranduil had not heard before. It both terrified him and calmed him into knowing things would be, in whatever way, alright. The words were not spoken, but sung, and yet, not really. It was the first and one of the few times that Thranduil had experienced Erestor as the Vala he was and not as the Elda he appeared to be. From Erestor’s mouth in a voice that did not quite sound his own came these words:
I am his voice
I have no choice
I claim full responsibility
I am his hand
Understand
To talk to him – you talk to me
Erestor’s eyes, the entirety of them, were a brilliant blue now. It was an eerie thing to watch, but Thranduil could not seem to move, and Melian did not, either.
If you look into your mirror
You’ll see a little clearer
And reflect upon what I said
So don’t be upset
When you finally regret
The life that you have led
I warned you once or twice
You haven’t been very nice
You chose the path to take
You know what happens to this city
Won’t be very pretty
Now live with your mistake
Those were the words Thranduil heard, but there was something else there, another message underlying what his ears picked up. Melian replied in some way incomprehensible to Thranduil, and Erestor merely gave her a shrug of indifference to her determined look. Slowly, the color in his eyes faded, and when he blinked, they looked normal again. Still, no one moved.
As the door was not locked, there was no warning when it suddenly opened. Unexpectedly, Luthien entered, along with a half-dozen hand maidens, who all looked less than thrilled to be stepping foot into a dungeon. “Mother, we have come for Erestor.”
Letting go of his hold on Melian’s wrist, Erestor turned his attention to the young princess and her ladies-in-waiting. None of them could be anything over a hundred years, if that, with the exception of Luthien. She approached the cell, holding in her hand a large key that she fitted into the lock. “Father said that we could keep you to entertain us.”
Thranduil frowned and gave a disapproving look that was unseen by everyone, but Luthien further explained. “I have wanted a minstrel of my own for some time. He has Daeron; why should I not have one? I only get to have Daeron when father does not need him, which is not always when I want him. But he said that I may have you come and sing or play for us.” The door of the cell was opened.
“I regret to inform you, I shall not be playing any time soon.” Erestor held up his hands, showing the swollen, bruised wrists to the ladies, who fawned over his injury. “I also have duties in the library as well.”
“Father has released you as a scribe. He said he would write a recommendation for you if you were to decide to leave, or else you could stay here as my bard.” Luthien examined Erestor’s hands briefly. “You’ll heal fine in a few days. Until then, you have not lost your voice, have you?”
