Mary Goes to Mirkwood

Mary Goes to Mirkwood

Chapter 26/?

Special Musical Edition

Featuring:

~ "Birds of a Feather" ~

Who will perform both their smash hit: "Thank Eru, I'm Not an Elven Lord!"* and their other crowd pleasing favorite: "The Ballad of the Girl of the Squirrels."

A Special Guest Mystery Author will be playing the part of "the Canary"

A Special Guest Mystery Elf will be playing the part of "the Swan"

Rated: PG 13 for mention of butts

Warning: Boisterous music and dancing

Disclaimer: Just playing with Tolkien's characters for fun, not profit, and do not claim to have created any of them. The King's seneschal, Thaladir, is our own creation.

Summary: The Royal Party reaches Esgaroth. Mary, Mal, the King, and all, enjoy an evening of music and laughter at the inn.

* "Thank Eru, I'm Not an Elven Lord!" is sung to the tune of "Thank God, I'm a Country Boy!" by John Denver


~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Mary ~

The Royal Mirkwood Party arrived in Esgaroth in the late afternoon. The sun was low in the western sky and the rippling water of the Long Lake had a beautiful golden tinge to it in the fading light. Mal and I heard the lake gulls calling before we saw the town, or the water, and poked our heads out of the carriage windows to catch a first glimpse of something other than flat swampy fields or low rolling hills.

The seneschal rode close by the carriage, frowning and muttering at us until we promised we would sit back in our seats like ladies once we drew close enough to the town to be seen by anyone. Soon after, we encountered traffic coming in the other direction and the people who rode by in carts or wagons would openly stare in awe at our caravan. A few were visibly frightened, but most seemed curious and smiled back at us when Mal and I waved at them.

The king had Thaladir and Anarion take care of escorting the royal party into the inn while he personally saw to Amarth's stabling. The mighty war-steed would have killed any human who was not prepared for his lethal nature, no matter how experienced they were with beasts. Even the Mirkwood stable-elves were leery of the king's horse.

It felt good to get out of the carriage, although the king had called a halt more than a few times along the way to allow us restless mortals a chance to stretch our legs and walk around a little. We had eaten our breakfast and mid-day meal while stopped beside the road, too, but we had stayed in the carriage. The rain-sodden fields and marshy wetlands that surrounded us, especially after we had left the last of the forestlands behind, did not make for good picnic grounds.

I was shocked to see elves from other realms in the inn's common room. There were humans there, too, and it looked like a grand party was taking place. The innkeeper assured us that the friendly crowd was mostly comprised of some local folk, and the rest were visitors who traveled to Esgaroth to celebrate the spring festival season.

Furthermore, we would not be interrupting a private affair if we chose to sit at one of the tables and listen to the musical entertainment while eating our dinner. Or, he suggested hastily when Thaladir's frown turned into a scowl; the king and his ladies could have their meals sent to their rooms.

The musicians had apparently gone on a break. Their instruments had been left behind as a silent promise of their return, and some of the partiers were clapping their hands and calling for a song. Happy serving girls wound in and out of the crowd with trays filled with ale tankards and wine bowls balanced on their shoulders.

There were elves with blond hair at one of the tables and my heart pounded for a moment until I realized they were not of the Galadhrim. Or, perhaps they were, but as they wore tunics and leggings more like mortal made than elven made, and seemed comfortable associating with the local population, I doubted it.

I begged the king, who joined us as we stood in the entry, to let us sit and listen to the music for a while before we went up to our rooms. Mal said that we should at least wash our faces clean of the travel dust first and I wondered if she had noticed the odd-looking elves, too.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Mal ~

When we came to the inn, it was even clearer than last time that this was a place where elves, and especially Mirkwood elves, were held in high regard. We had barely crossed the threshold when the inn-keeper began to fawn on us, obviously suitably happy to have such esteemed guests. I listened to his conversation with Thaladir, while Mary made big eyes at the motley crowd in the main room.

"The stars are shining on our meeting," said the man in imitation of the Elvish greeting. When Thaladir just muttered in reply, he skipped the rest of the polite phrases and moved on to the accommodatioocedocedure. "I trust the arrangements during your last visit were satisfying, my lord?" he asked the seneschal, but with a meaningful glance at me. "Will you be sharing your room with the same lady?"

"No," said Thaladir, very quickly and slightly louder than was necessary. "This is an official state visit, wherefore sharing of quarters will be unnecessary and, furthermore, a breach of protocol." The innkeeper shrank back somewhat, but soon was his jovial self again when he discussed the rooms and negotiated the price.

It turned out that there would be some sharing after all. The inn just didn't have enough vacant rooms for such a large company. I was to share with Ithilwen, and Mary with Miriel. Helca got a room of her own, and I just hoped it would be far enough from mine so I wouldn't have to spend my night listening to her and whomever she chose to share it with. There was no lack of hairy men here, so I was sure she'd find someone suitable for her taste, even if none were half as appalling as the wine merchant who, according to Mary, she favoured above all other males.

Our honour guard were to take their rest in the common room, after the inn closed for the night. There weren't any beds there, of course, but room enough on the benches that were fixed to the walls, and I guessed they would anyway take turns guarding us.

Thaladir had come to the same conclusion, and in the end the now less jolly innkeeper had to agree with the seneschal that the presence of such a number of warrior elves would greatly serve the security of the establishment, and thus there was no need to pay for their lodging.


~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Mary ~

After examining our small, but decent, rooms, Mal and I freshened up and changed into our new spring gowns, with help from Miriel and Ithilwen. Thaladir met us in the corridor outside of our doors to escort us to the king's table. I chose not to wear my shawl, but he barely seemed to notice my almost bare arms. At least he did not glare at me with disapproval.

The seneschal had also changed out of his travel clothes and now wore a more distinguished long fawn-colored tunic, with his blue robe over it, my favorite combination. Around his waist he wore a tawny-colored sash made of some kind of satiny fabric and he looked very elegant. He was no happier than he had been upon arrival, but he seemed resigned to joining the party downstairs.

I found him increasingly endearing as the night wore on, in a way I had never felt before. It was probably the wine that was served with our meal. The inn served it in bowls, just as Thaladir had predicted, but they were made of wood and seemed easier to drink from. I felt grateful towards him as I sipped without spilling, and that was an unusual sensation.

The king was focused on Mal, who was amused by a table full of dwarves that had noisily entered the establishment. I could feel the seneschal stiffen beside me, drawing his breath in sharply as he did so, when the bearded folk approached us before sitting down in their own places.

They had each in turn bowed and respectfully introduced themselves to the king and us, and offered their services in a most polite fashion. But the schaschal's frown did not waver until they had all left us in peace. I leaned over and patted his hand that sat in a white-knuckled fisted ball on the table.

"You are such an excellent Excellency, Your Excellency," I informed him. He almost jerked his head in surprise as he looked at me. Well, he did turn his head so that he faced me, which was a surprise to me. I think I jerked when he did that. It's hard to remember exactly. He did visibly flinch when a loud cheer filled the hall signaling the return of the musicians. However, when they began to play a lyrical Sindarin tune, he relaxed.

"My Lady," said Thaladir after I joined the whooping and hollering chorus from the crowd who were calling out to the musicians to play something faster. "Such a common display of enthusiasm is most…"

"Oh, be quiet. We aren't in Mirkwood any more," I interrupted him a little snappishly and then felt bad about it. He could not help himself to disapprove of my behavior any more than I could stop myself from applauding along with the rowdy crowd when the masked minstrels finally began to fill the large hall with a rousing tune that even I recognized, from my time in Rivendell.

Soon, elves, humans, and dwarves were dancing in the center of the room and any one who was not dancing was clapping and singing along with the more familiar songs. Mal was holding herself from laughing out loud as she watchee dwe dwarves attempt to keep up with the more swift footed dancers on the floor. She wiped tears from her eyes and held her sides.

The king leaned over to her and I believe he asked if she wanted to dance, because she turned to him, a startled look on her happy face, and shook her head. I heard her say that it was much too crowded for her comfort.

I did not blame her, as much as I would have loved to dance to the merry spring songs, the jostling dancers seemed likely to cause bruises and smashed toes. Ordinarily, this was to be coped with as a condition of such an activity.

But, according to Thranduil, Mal and I were both to present ourselves to the inquisitive Lord Bard, and his entire nosy Royal House, in good physical condition, in order to dispel the rumors that persisted of how we were being held captive in Mirkwood and were possibly being abused. It was best we sat and just watched the boisterous dancers.

I leaned over to Thaladir and asked, "Will you dance with me tomorrow at the wedding feast, Your Excellency?"

Ha! This time he did jerk, I swear it. Before I could pursue my request any further, however, I froze when a loud voice from the crowd demanded to hear a song about "the girl of the squirrels." I had a very bad feeling when the minstrels began to sing.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Mal ~

I would normally have preferred to stay in my room rather than being in that crowded room with all these people, but sitting with the king made me feel safe enough to enjoy dinner. It was actually fun to watch the other visitors, and nobody seemed to notice that I looked at them, and even if they did notice, they at least seemed not to mind my doing it. A few seemed to be amused, like the company of dwarves that arrived just after we took our seats.

They were taller than I had imagined, and looked much stronger too, but all had the funny, brightly coloured caps I remembered from the book. These, they swept from their heads when they approached our table, and they all bowed to the Elvenking, who remained calm. He even smiled amiably when declaring that he had no imminent need to take dwarves in to his service.

As if to put some weight behind his words, he lifted his chin and glanced to the table where our guards were busy with their bread and soup, but with not much more than an almost imperceptible flicker of his eyes. They immediately acknowledged their king's gesture and stood, all at the same time. It was an impressive sight, but the dwarves did not appear to be in all intimidated and I had to admire their resolve. Or perhaps it was just stubbornness.

There were other elves in the room apart from ours, but in some cases I had to look twice to see that they were indeed elves and not unusually tall and handsome young men. They seemed to be regular customers here and they merrily shouted to the staff for wine, just like the locals in their company. It felt a bit odd to see elves behave like that, and no doubt they would have earned more than a stern glance from Thaladir if they had been under his supervision.

The poor seneschal did not seem to have a good time at all, despite Mary's attempts to cheer him up. At any time I looked at him, he was wearing an expression of dislike, or even shock. The king assured me that there was no reason to worry, and I was more than happy to direct my attention to him. Unlike us, he had not changed clothes, just taken off his weapons. The leaf crown was gone, too, I had seen it being sent floating in the same brook where we stopped this morning.

What a pity that it would be Mary's turn to share his bed tonight! But at least I could try to make the most of his company where we were. He seemed to think the same, and when two oddly attired musicians began to play a soft tune, I was sitting as close to him as possible, with his strong arms around my waist. And sometimes, a little lower. Under the table.

Then the cheering became too loud, and the music too fast, and the dancing too silly. I just had to sit up straight again, and it was difficult not to laugh at the dwarves, who seemed to have no inhibitions when it came to having a good time. They jumped along with the elves and men and swung their caps in a ridiculous, but very funny manner. I felt a hand caressing my back, and then the king's voice was in my ear, as he asked, "Is my concubine entirely engulfed by the stunted folk, or would she care to serve her king in a dance?"

I would have liked nothing more, but I doubted it would be very enjoyable to be bumped into by the wild crowd. It felt awful to decline, but I was happy Thranduil didn't insist. And I made a point of not looking so much at the dwarves. His eyes, and mouth, and hands were much more interesting anyway, and I wished the minstrels would play something soft and melancholic again, like the first tune. But the roar that rose from the crowd when they started the next song told me that it would be far from that.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Birds of a Feather ~

On a small stage in the back corner of the inn sat the two minstrels, one strumming a lute while the other held a small harp on his lap. Both were mysterious in appearance, each covering the upper portion of their faces with intricately feathered masks, but their tell-tale pointed ears were not kept hidden. Thranduil's eyes lingered on the second musician a moment longer before he turned his attention back to those at his table.

The first song they performed after returning from their break, and as the patrons returned to their seats, was in Sindarin and told of love lost and the perils of the sea calling. The next few songs were happier tunes, and at first a few of the visitors to the inn began to hum or clap along, and eventually dancers began to fill the floor. It was obviously a popular duo, and, after one man at the bar shouted out, "Sing us the ballad of the girl of the squirrels!" the crowd erupted.

It was a duet, and a bit of a round, for though the singers began together, the harpist began the chorus one line after the lute player, and continued to sing the chorus while his counterpart sang the verses in a louder voice, continuing to strum her lute:

"Let us sing you the ballad of the girl of the squirrels,
No long bushy tail, instead hair with curls,
And across all the branches you can see her pitter patter,
Listen in the forest you will hear her chitter chatter!"

Here the lute player waited until the line was finished by her companion, and then as he repeated the chorus began the first verse:

"Into Mirkwood forest, she came one day.
Came to see the King, but not long did she stay,
Back into the woods, to the warden she did reach,
And the rootless mallorn went up into the tall beech."

The chorus was recalled, and much clamor arose in the inn as some joined in for the tune. If anyone took note of the table that was not rowdy as the others, they would have noticed one lady trying her best to discreetly slip beneath the table while the other feigned innocence as she looked in extreme interest to the ceiling. The second verse was slightly more telling than the first:

"Back to Mirkwood and back to the King,
Many times she did dance but he didn't make her sing,
Her reverence was perfect, her Elvish was divine,
And such a lovely backside – The perfect concubine!"

An abrupt cough caused both ladies to straighten in their seats. Most of the inn was in a fury of dance and laughter, while at the king's table the tone was quite the opposite as the third verse began:

"If you need to calm her, offer her a nut.
She was raised by squirrels –"

Here the song stopped abruptly and the masculine voice rose up suddenly and asked,

"Did we mention her fine butt?"

At the table, a deadly silence had fallen. Thranduil had his mouth covery hiy his hand, though whether it hid a smirk or a scowl, none knew.

"She used to dig holes and bury things and live in a tree,
Now she comes when called and curtseys for his majesty.

Let us sing you the ballad of the girl of the squirrels,
No long bushy tail, instead hair with curls.
And across all the branches you can see her pitter patter,
Listen in the forest you will hear her chitter chatter!

Now you know of the ballad of the girl of the squirrels,
Don't follow bushy tails, just hair full of curls,
No longer does she climb trees or go chitter chatter,
'Tis her charm and magnificent behind that really matter!"

They finished with a flourish to the sound of coins dropping into a hat on the floor, each of them bowing in turn to their audience and declining further song for the time. Leaving their instruments in their spots, the lute player scooped the coins up and placed the hat on her head. The pair strolled up to the front of the inn to refresh their voices with a mug from the bar.


~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Mal ~

The melody was pleasant enough to the ear, though a lot more simple and rustic than the others on the repertory of the two singers. The voice of the female was clear and high, and the male elf was an excellent companion with his lower notes. There was something familiar in how he pronounced some of the vowels, something that suddenly reminded me of Haldir. As did the mention of mallorn in the lyrics.

The words of the song were incredibly silly, but obviously the audience did not the slightest question the logic of someone, let alone a royal concubine, being raised by squirrels. It was a clear display of their simple minds and the superstitious beliefs about wood-elves. I expected the king to stop the outrageous thing, but he just listened calmly, with his gaze nailed to the feather-masked singers. I did not understand him at all.

Thaladir seemed to endure the show with the painful expression he had been wearing during all the more rambunctious songs, and Mary had suddenly stopped cheering, probably because he had told her that it was not proper. Not that it had ever hindered her before, but perhaps she had decided to at least try, for once.

As the verses succeeded each other, I began to feel a little uneasy, and by the time the lyrics became increasingly involved with the mysterious squirrel-girl's behind, I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment. What if someone would think that the song was about the present Mirkwood concubine? And they would look, and laugh, at me? And that male singer, wasn't he staring at me from behind his mask, and especially when shouting out that last remark about a "fine butt"?

The crowd literally howled with laughter, but the seneschal seemed properly appalled with the use of such profane language in public. The king, on the other hand, rather appeared to be inspired by it, and I felt his fingers slowly travelling down my spine, eventually to reach the mentioned part of my body. Which wasn't very easy, as I was sitting upon it, and for the moment perfectly contented with keeping it to myself, thank you!

Thranduil removed his hand, and took to patting my thigh instead. "But it is magnificent, my dear," he said in a mild, almost apologetic voice. As if that would help! I was relieved when the musicians finally left, and it was only at the king's command that I refrained from running off to hide in my room when the "Swan" approached our table.


~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Mary ~

All during the song about the girl raised by squirrels who then became a concubine, I waited for the Voice of Protocol to level some punishable charge at me, like treason, or sedition, for making up lies about the Royal Concubine, and her nut eating habits. And her digging and burying habits. And her sleeping in tree habits, although that part was not a lie. I stared at the ceiling, noticing that the lanterns were of a most unusually unremarkable design, and waited. But Thaladir did not say a word.

What I did not think of, as I sat wincing in fear, was that no one, except maybe the king, and definitely Haryl, knew where the tree-girl legend originated. Thranduil, when I took a chance at peeking his way, did not seem angry or even very disturbed by the shocking lyrics. He almost looked proud of himself.

And Mal? Well, I could not look at her at all. She would have known immediately that I was guilty if she looked into my eyes at that moment. I kept staring at the ceiling; the beams may have had interesting axe-hewn marks cut into them if they could have been seen above the clouds of pipe smoke.

After the terrible song was finally over, and the applause died down, I bowed my head and waited for doom to fall. But no one said a thing to me. Mal was quiet, but I could not hear weeping. That was a good sign.

However, when the musicians left the stage, I became frantic to avoid talking to her, and searched around for a diversion. I turned to Thaladir and asked him if he noticed where Miriel had gotten herself to, because I thought my braid was coming loose. While I spoke, I pulled part of it out on the side of my head away from the seneschal's view, and then turned to show him how untidy it looked.

Miriel was found and, as the unruly braid was put back into order, she whispered to me how happy she and the other Mirkwood elves were to see their king enjoying himself. To see him spending any time, let alone so much time, in a room with other elves, strange men and, most astonishing of all, a group of dwarves, was more encouraging to them than any distant tale of the Dark Lord being overthrown. They truly were all entering into a new Age if their monarch could be comfortabl suc such a situation.

The masked singers passed by our table on their way back to the stage. The taller of the two wore a white-feathered mask, which framed mischievous blue eyes that sparkled with elf-light. He paused to speak to the king, but I could barely hear him above the noisy crowd. His silvery hair shimmered when he nodded in agreement to something.

Thranduil seemed to know him, and I could tell he liked him by the way his eyes shone happily as they spoke. There were obviously no hard feelings about the concubine song, so I guessed that the king was not angry about it, and I hoped he would introduce Mal and me. But the swan-masked elf passed us by quickly to take his place alongside the lute player, who wore a merry yellow-feathered mask.

He had such a magnificent voice that it was hard to believe he sang only for pennies dropped into a hat at an inn so far north of the new kingdom in Gondor. I had the feeling he would be a very wealthy elf in Minas Tirith, if he ever traveled there to sing for his supper. I felt privileged to hear such a talented songbird.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Birds of a Feather ~

"Who is that duo? Familiar they are to me," remarked an elf in broken Westron to the men folk at the table he was sitting at. The men and elves were mingling quite a bit now, and everyone was in a jolly mood.

"They usually travel in a larger group - altogether, there are four of them when they are all present," explained one of the patrons slowly, and a few elves from other tables leaned closer to hear the tale, as well as a few mortals, including two mortal women, who did not lean ('twas not proper), but sat straighter and listened better than the rest. "Birds of a Feather, they call themselves. The Canary often regales us with tune or tale, but rarely does the Swan come to sing. It is a true treat this evening."

The musicians stood to return to the corner where they had been playing. Halfway to the makeshift stage, the Swan stopped as he came to the King's table. The Canary turned when she found her companion missing, and followed the path back. She blinked, swept her hat from her head, and bowed low and graciously. "Your highness, your pardon, I did not see you until now."

The King did not speak to the lute player, who placed her hat back upon her head and retreated to the stage. The Swan remained unmoved. "Yperfperformance has been flawless," said the monarch quietly. "Your voice does great service to your realm."

"My voice as an instrument of my realm is resting this eve, for it is in my own service tonight," came the answer, deep for an elf, and regal as well.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, not in malice but in thought. "Whatever came of that quaint drinking song you would play years past in jest?"

The Swan tilted his head. "Would it please his majesty to hear such a tune?"

"Only if it pleases you to sing it."

There was a twitch, a smile, and then it passed. "I shall consider it," was the answer before the Swan continued on his path.

"He's shall consider it?" sputtered an elf at another table. "He stands before a sitting King, he does not bow, and he says he shall consider it?" Many of the others looked aghast at what had transpired, but Thranduil raised his wine-bowl, and it took but a look to calm the crowd.

"He is an artist, and it is his art that is master over him. To deny him his own will over the matter would be to tell the sun not to rise. The wind blows as it wishes, flowers bloom as they fancy. And the songbird shall sing when he decides." Thranduil drank from his bowl, and none said further on the matter, and all was silent as the birds began to sing.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Mal~


When the minstrel came closer, I noticed that he was very tall, not only in compariwithwith his female companion. His hair had a silver shimmer to it, and I wished he would remove the mask. I was sure he wasn't wearing it to conceal some hideous feature, and he would be just as exotic all by himself.

He stood before the king, but unlike all others, including the female singer, who had bowed respectfully before they came within ten feet from us, he did not in any way acknowledge Thranduil's status. I heard someone clear his throat in the silence that spread in the room at this obvious breach of etiquette, but it had not been Thaladir. And the king wasn't angry, but said something about the liberty of artists. I did not for a second think he would be that forgiving for the mere love of culture, and as he spoke with the minstrel it became clear to me that it wasn't the first time they met.

They spoke quickly in Sindarin, and too silently for me to hear everything, but there was some mention of drinking and old times, and in the end both of them were smiling. As the silver-haired elf returned to his Canary, I wondered if the couple were lovers as well as stage partners. It reminded me of the king, and I quickly took his hand and leant my head against his shoulder, to savour the last minutes together before it was time for me to go to lonely sleep. Ithilwen would sit with Anarion and the other sentinels the whole night, of that I was sure. Perhaps Thaladir could be persuaded to be with me for a while, in all seemliness? I so did not want to be alone!

I felt Thranduil's lips gently touch my brow, and as usual I forgot all other thoughts. "Listen," he whispered, and my melancholy was turned into amusement as I listened to the lyrics of the song the minstrels were playing. This was much more entertaining than that silly squirrel song. My king had much better taste in music than the local scoundrels.


~*~ ~* ~ ~*~ ~*~

~ Birds of a Feather ~

The harp was in the hands of the Swan, but for now the Canary had exchanged her lute for a fiddle. She rosined her bow as she was given a few short words of instruction from her partner and nodded, resting the instrument under her arm and striking up a beat with her foot upon the floor.

Most of the crowd joined in, tapping feet and clapping hands and singing along when they knew the words as the Swan led them in song:

"Well life in the forest has always been good,
From Mirkwood's n trn trees into the golden wood,
Where there's a silver tree everywhere I stood,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

Well I love my daughter and I love my wife,
I never asked for nothin' but a simple sorta life,
I can shoot with a bow and hunt with a knife,
Thank Eru I'm not lvenlven lord!

Well, I got me a tall tree, but I like to travel,
I like to tell stories, and I try not to battle,
I can walk on snow an' all that other fiddle-faddle,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!"

Here now they began to play, Canary and Swan. The fiddle was frantic as deeper notes were plucked from the harp in time with the beat:

"More often are my hands upon bow than harp,
But about all of that you'll never hear me carp,
I just keep the strings tuned and my weapons mighty sharp,
An' thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

I'd sing and I'd strum if I could all the day,
But the Lady of the Woods wouldn't like it that way,
So I see to my duties before I head 'round to play,
An' thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

Well, I got me a tall tree, but I like to travel,
I like to tell stories, and I try not to battle,
I can walk on snow an' all that other fiddle-faddle,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!"

Quite a few of the patrons were no longer in their seats, those of the race of men dancing heartily around the large room and those of the race of elves either following along as best they could or being instructed by those who knew. Many of the elves were dancing with women, the men dancing with elleths, and the musicians delighting in the response from their song:

"Well, some elves now they like to have power,
They think about rings and taking down towers,
I'll trade all that for grass, trees, and flowers,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

An' other elves I know sit around and grouse,
Buildin' up realms and livin' in a homely house,
I'd rather sing a tune an' make love to my spouse,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

Well, I got me a tall tree, but I like to travel,
I like to tell stories, and I try not to battle,
I can walk on snow an' all that other fiddle-faddle,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!"

Mary appeared quite interested in this song, maybe because she knew what all of the words meant, or at the very least understood the language, unlike some of what had been sung throughout the evening. It wasn't until now that her eye caught movement and she saw Thranduil clapping along and giving a nod to the Swan, who tilted his head innocently enough, but it was obviously a gesture meant for the King. She was even more intrigued now to know who was behind the mask as he began to sing again:

"Well, I once knew of a famous Elven prince
His Ada said to me as he turned his head and winced
"Just do what you like, son," -- an' I haven't stopped since --
"An' Thank Eru you're not an Elven lord!

Twas my Ada who first taught me how to use a sword
Later made my harp when he saw me gettin' bored
He taught me to fight and how to strum a chord
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!"

The song finished in a great flourish and much cheering and applause rang through the room. Some even continued to dance about, hoping and calling for one more song. When finally the crowd was calmed and the fiddle put away, the Swan had already begun to strum thin, sad strings of notes along the strings of his harp.

Sitting down next to the Swan, the Canary leaned her head back against his shoulder, careful not to disrupt his playing as she began a soft and somber song that recalled the fall of Gondolin and an unnamed and forgotten hero. As they finished, this was not to be the end, for one more song did they offer - something livelier that brought the crowd back to their feet.

After the last tune was finished, the minstrels had bowed and smiled and packed their things to go as men and elves continued to clap and cheer and began to sing on their own. After one final stop at the bar, the bards made their exit with exaggerated bows and waves of their arms above their heads as the merrymaking continued in the inn.

Thranduil waited until the door to the inn closed and then stood. Mal and Mary exchanged looks and rose fluidly from their seats, but a sharp look told them twerewere not invited. "Excuse me, I shall return," he said to those at the table, but as it was most times, it was not a request.

Those at the table bowed their heads reverently as Mary and Mal sat back down upon theirirs.irs. They watched their king move through the crowd to a side door not blocked by dancers or merrymakers. Neither lady had seen it earlier, but now they watched as Thranduil silently disappeared into the night.


~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

~ M~
~

When the king abruptly left the table and slipped out of a side door, right after the musicians left, I was convinced that it would be the last I would see of him for the night. We were in the world of men, and I was sure he must have some type of kingly business to attend to while we paused beside the Long Lake. After a moment's pause, Thaladir bade Mal and me to remain seated where we were, until he returned, and then he followed after his king.

I still was neadyeady to look the tree-girl in the eye, yet, so I looked around the common room while pretending to wonder what had become of Anarion and Ithilwen, who I knew very well had slipped off upstairs earlier.

It was clear that the party would last all night as some of the Mirkwood elves were now making music with their own instruments, which they had carried along with them. Mal scooted over to sit closer to talk to me because the tables near us were still filled with noisy conversas. Ss. She had to lean close to me so I could hear her. I sent up a short prayer that she would not ask me anything about that song.

"What did you think of that song?" she asked.

"What song?" I replied, perhaps a bit too hastily, but she was still oblivious to what part I had to play in the legend of the girl who was raised by squirrels.

Before she could answer, I continued, "Oh, do you mean 'Thank Eru I'm not an Elvenlord'? I thought it was very clever. I especially liked the part, 'I can walk on snow and all that other fiddle-faddle', although that doesn't seem a very Elvish term to me, Mal. Fiddle-faddle. Does it to you?" I took at chance at peeking at her, and grinned.

"No, Mary. Not that song," she said keeping her voice low so that none of the nearby elves could overhear. "I mean that strange song about the concubine. Do you think it was supposed to be about me? I mean, what do you think all of that was about? The parts about the squirrels? And the nuts? It reminds me so much of Haryl and the things he would say to me…"

Her voice trailed off as her fine mind worked at putting the pieces of this latest puzzle together. I wished I could have helped her, but that was not possible, not without implicating myself, so I shrugged.

"Maybe it was some other concubine they were singing about?"

"Then how do you explain the "rootless mallorn" or the "magnificent behind"? She was not really asking me for an explanation, shs mes merely wondering out loud. I should have kept my mouth shut.

"How should I know, Mal?" I asked instead. "People around here just probably have some strange ideas about you and concubines and what concubines do when they get to Mirkwood, so don't blame me."

"Why would I blame you?"

"No reason!" I said it a bit too loud. I softened my tone. "No reason at all. Just don't, is all. In case you were going to. Blame me, that is." I craned my neck as if that would help me to see over the tall elves that surrounded us and pretended to be searching the crowd again. "I wonder where Thranduil went to," I asked her. "Do you think he's coming back?"

She stared at me for a few moments, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. But, before she could investigate any further, Thaladir returned and informed us that, as the king desired that we both retire to our rooms, he would provide escort for us. I think it was the first time I was actually happy to see him.

"Did you hear that?" I said to Mal as I promptly rose to follow the seneschal. "Time for bed! His Excellency says so, and that's good enough for me. No more time for chitter chatter about silly songs that don't mean anything anyway. And I am so tired!" I yawned and stretched to demonstrate a high level of utter exhaustion. "I am ready to go right to my own room, by myself, and fall right to sleep. How about you?"

"You're lying," she replied. I was dumbstruck for a moment. How did she know? How did she figure it out? Oh, she was always too smart to keep in the dark for very long. How was I going to explain?

"Mal, it was like this," I began. "I didn't mean for it to…"

"ow wow why you want to get rid of meshe she continued, not even listening to me. "Because it's your turn with the king." She gave me a knowing smirk. "And I know very well that you aren't planning on going right to sleep."

"Oh, yes! Yes, you are rigI waI was lying." I shook my head and clucked my tongue at my own behavior. "Silly me," I added. "Thinking I could fool you."

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