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Linnariel first noticed the other elleth when she was speaking with the apple farmer as she was wandering around the market, basket in hand and clueless look on her face. It was a half hour later when Linnariel saw the same elleth, notable in the area due to her flaming bright red hair, wandering in the opposite direction of before with nearly the same look on her face. The redhead was clearly lost, as her basket was still empty and she had the same look on her face. Linnariel guessed that this elleth was new to their small city.
There was only one thing that Linnariel could do: she would do her best to help the elleth find her way.
Knowing the marketplace significantly better than most, Linnariel approached the area where she thought she would next find the elleth and lay in wait for her quarry to approach. As the redhead passed by, Linnariel stepped into sync with her, and quickly asked if the elleth needed any help.
The elleth stopped in her tracks and tilted her head to the side to study Linnariel, as if judging her sincerity. The elleth took a long moment to weigh the options, and finally settled on one. “I would very much like to know where the baker’s shop is. I have been unable to find it as of yet this morning.”
Linnariel gave the elleth a soft smile. “Cithril’s shop is always a challenge to find, unless you know his pattern.” The other elleth raised an eyebrow in question – the bakery was only open on occasion? “He and his wife bake everything the night before, and only sell while they have inventory during the next day from a cart they move from locale to locale. He is often sold out within a few hours of opening, and almost always by midday. My husband and I make sure to order well ahead if we foresee a need.” Linnariel watched the elleth’s eyes sweep upward to the sky before coming back down to look at the basket in her hands. She bit her cheek, realizing she was likely out of luck for the day. Moments later, Linnariel came to the same conclusion and offered the elleth one of the two loaves from her own basket. “Here,” she offered, holding the loaf outwards, “please accept this one.”
The elleth just looked at Linnariel’s hand, again apparently judging the need for bread against a potential dislike for charity from strangers. “Thank you,” she replied, accepting the loaf and placing it in her basket. She brought out a coin purse to repay Linnariel, but the brown-haired elleth refused.
“Pass it forward one day,” Linnariel answered with a smile, waving to refer to the future. “Someone new to the forest will miss Cithril’s bread one day.” A confused smile grew on the redheaded elleth’s face but she nodded. The two split up to go their separate ways, but only after the redheaded elleth asked where the chandler was as well. Linnariel gave her directions with a smile.
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“How could you tell I was new here?” The question came a few days later when the redheaded elleth and Linnariel sat down for tea at a small tearoom at the edge of the market. She had bumped, rather literally and this time unintentionally, into Linnariel and her son when coming around a corner. Recognition ensued, names were exchanged and they agreed that some tea was in order. Tauriel and Linnariel took up one table while the ellon was at the next table by himself, pushing around two small armored figures and having them fight every few seconds. The elf always won over the orc, often in dramatic style, Tauriel noticed.
Linnariel blushed at the question, but waited until after they were served, smiling broadly to the elleth who poured them tea. This elleth bowed in Linnariel’s general direction, causing Tauriel’s eyebrow to raise slightly at her new acquaintance before mentally shrugging off the motion. Had Linnariel wanted to acknowledge who she was (if she was actually anyone of importance), she would have said. As it were, she had only said her and her son’s names, nothing else. She dropped a sugar-leaf into her teacup and swirled it, breathing in the aroma before mentioning it wasn’t that often people who knew what they were doing looked for Cithril’s bread cart after midday. She also fingered at a lock of her own hair, mentioning without words that there were very few elves with such a shade of hair in their forest.
This time Tauriel looked down at her just-below-shoulder length hair and nodded. That was a general truth, she was rather noticeable with such hair, but she was used to that by now, more or less.
“My parents, baby sister and I moved here a few weeks ago,” she mentioned, between testing sips of tea. She followed Linnariel’s example and placed a sugar-leaf in her tea as well. The maple flavor of the sugar was something she had yet to get used to. “We lived in a settlement near Imladris.”
Linnariel nodded. She knew a few of those villages existed, mostly populations of elves descended from the unflavored Noldorin who often found censure among other communitites. A number of these villages had recently had trouble with raids from orcs from Moria, knowledge gained from her husband. Normally the goings-on of small Noldorin hamlets was none of his business, but he was in the habit of collecting all sorts of information, her husband was. He was especially interested in information such as this, but would be less enthused that these people were fleeing to this city. “I hope the journey was pleasant for you,” Linnariel commented, her tone more bland than she meant it to be. “And I hope your family is settling well. This city can be confusing to newcomers, especially those unused to being shut behind locked gates.” Her tone for this sentence was wistful; she had given up – well, chosen to give up – her parents’ home for her husband’s. Anywhere he was happy, she would be as well, she was determined. The lack of trees bothered her at first, but she had grown more used to it. Tauriel nodded to this, and bit her lips between her teeth before hiding the gesture with sipping her tea.
“My father appreciates the security, and my mother appreciates the size of the city rather than a village.”
Linnariel grinned. “And what do you think?”
“I do not know what to think just yet,” she acknowledged. As much as she had known the elleth for five minutes total, she did already like her. They were about the same age, though Linnariel was a few years older, given she was married and had a five year old son.
“I like the security yes, but I find I have little to do yet aside from bumping into people at the market.” Tauriel paused, breaking piece of the crispy bread with her fingers. “I’m guessing you have some experience with relocating here?”
The other elleth nodded, at the same time swiping the toy orc-head from the floor and giving it to her son who couldn’t reach it. “I moved here after I married; I found the stone walls and branch pathways far too confusing for a while, but while my husband and his father have a flair for the dramatic, I got used to them.”
Tauriel’s brows creased but she did not ask again who the elleth was. She avoided saying her husband’s name, which was interesting. Conversation turned to ways to spend time in the city, as well as what each of their families did for work. Tauriel mentioned her father had run a vineyard before but had yet to find suitable employment in Eryn Lasgalen, something that piqued Linnariel’s interest greatly, while her mother had so far found a job at a tailor’s. Tauriel had yet to find a career, but she was looking at her options, which she had found were expanded now that they had relocated from a farming town to a city.
“Your father has worked at a vineyard before?”
Tauriel nodded, “he was a master-vintner at a winery. He was sad to find that there are precious few of them here.” She laughed at the excited look on Linnariel’s face. “What?”
“I just so happen to know of an open position in a role like that,” she replied. “There is a new vineyard being planted in a few weeks, as soon as the forest can be cleared and the soil turned.” She asked the ellon’s name.
“I appreciate the recommendation, but you do not have to offer my father a career without meeting him first,” Tauriel replied, her face looking flustered. “He could have been the worst vintner in Imladris.”
Linnariel shrugged, guessing this wasn’t the truth; though Tauriel had not said their reason for transplanting, most successful people would not uproot their families and move hundreds of miles on a whim. “I shall ask around for him, if that is all right by you.”
Realizing Linnariel probably wouldn’t take no for an answer, Tauriel nodded. “Thank you… oh!” she was surprised to find the miniature orc-head drop into her lap from across the table. Linnariel blushed and looked at her son, whose face was clearly embarrassed.
“My ada is taking me to shoot arrows tomorrow,” he interjected quickly before either of the ellyth had been able to say anything. “Errrr, you should come with me.” He accepted the small wooden head, his own face bright red. The two ellyth laughed at the boy, who so clearly had tried to get them to ignore his blunder.
Tauriel looked at the mother, but Linnariel shrugged, reaching to pat the boy’s head and run her fingers through his hair. This gesture was accompanied by the “mother” look that clearly conveyed a reminder of words they had spoken earlier. The boy half-crumpled but both mother and son turned identical cerulean blue eyes at her after a moment. “I have no issue with it if you come, my husband likely would not mind either. Please bring your family as well.”
Tauriel seemed taken aback by the open invitation, and understandably so. She had just met Linnariel, and had even more recently met the elleth’s son, but it was incredibly odd that such an invitation would come so quickly. “I, well, I don’t know,” she quaffed, her hands shaking against the teacup. “Perhaps another time.”
Linnariel shrugged and nodded. “Of course,” she smiled. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind getting tea again another day? It’s not often I get to speak to anyone else who is a transplant here, and I like to help others get settled in.”
This Tauriel had no problem with and they readily agreed on a day the next week when they would meet at the same tea-shop.
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Tauriel and Linnariel met at the tea-shop as scheduled, and their conversation was fairly easy. The two got along well, and it was pleasant for each to have someone else to talk. Linnariel was very outgoing and cheerful, Tauriel was a tad more guarded but they carried a line well. Tauriel had noticed that most people avoided Linnariel, and when they didn’t avoid her gaze, they would often nod their heads or back off and give the elleth space. Linnariel seemed not to notice, whether intentionally or not, and just continued what she was doing.
Linnariel was not at a loss for friends, just she found the artifice of a number of the court ladies irksome after a while. She also just really liked to help newcomers to Eryn Lasgalen settle in. It was a hard thing to get used to, the difference between the stars and the ceiling of a cave. Some lived in the forest above, but anyone who made it to this marketplace would be the ones who lived within the city.
The two met for tea, and one lunch, over a few more weeks and made plans to continue to do so every eight days. Each time Tauriel met with Linnariel, sometimes with her sister or her mother and sometimes Linnariel would bring her son, they grew closer as friends. Eventually, they were sitting at tea, and one of the attendants came in, curtsying to Linnariel before saying her husband and son were also here to see her and have tea. Linnariel looked surprised, then glanced at Tauriel with a bit of skepticism when the door opened to admit a tall blonde ellon along with Linnariel’s son. The boy was wearing a set of robes to perfectly match his father, and had a few blades of summer wheat in his hair to match the crown on the King’s brow. Tauriel of course recognized the ellon immediately as King Thranduil and stood up and bowed as they approached. The elder ellon waved her bow away and smiled to her, a pleasant expression that she had not expected from him. He leaned down to kiss his wife’s cheek and put his hand on her shoulder. Their son copied the motion on her other side and tried to emulate the severe look that Thranduil usually sported when he was being kingly. Legolas, as Tauriel could now more appropriately name him, only managed to look pouty.
Tauriel had seen the King before at some official function, though she had only been walking to the butcher with her few rabbits and small game to trade. She had not seen Linnariel and Legolas with him that day, or so she thought, but she had guessed a while back that Linnariel was from one of the noble families due to her clothing, the respect of the population and apparent lack of occupation. That she was the Queen, Tauriel had not anticipated whatsoever. Tauriel barely knew what to say, but the King, perhaps seeing the awkwardness that had come over the table, gestured to a chair and asked if he could sit. Tauriel of course nodded. Thranduil moved to sit down, Legolas mirroring him on the other side of the table, and mentioned he did not want to interrupt long, it was just that Legolas had wanted to see his mother. The small ellon had managed to continue his pouty face until his mother was mentioned and he let out an accidental grin before reschooling his serious pout.
Linnariel looked between her son and husband, her face softening with love for them, and Tauriel smiled at her friend. Tauriel felt a little odd about sitting here so, but she thought it interesting that the King felt so at ease so quickly. He was sitting back in the seat comfortably as one of the attendants set up a cup for he and his son.
“It is good to meet you, Tauriel,” King Thranduil ventured after a moment. “Lin has spoken of you often.”
“Thank you, your Grace,” Tauriel responded. “It is an honor to meet you as well.”
The King nodded. “I hear that you are very good with a bow,” he continued, his eyes meeting his wife’s for a brief second before returning his gaze to Tauriel’s. To the elleth’s growing expression of confusion – she had never spoken to Linnariel of her hunting work – the King explained: “the ellon you trade with is a primary supplier to the palace kitchens.” Tauriel nodded in comprehension as she watched the King added four of the sweet sugar leaves to his tea, almost pulling a face at how sweet he was making it. Legolas, of course, shadowed his every move. “Such skill does not go unnoticed, here. I happen to know,” he said conspiratorily, “that there are a number of openings in the Guard contingents, both in the Warden and Palace sections. They have fairly rarely in the past hired from the newer citizens, but I am sure if you would wish to consider such a position, you would not likely be declined.” Tauriel’s eyes widened at the obvious implication here. The King himself was giving her a recommendation; her, and elleth he did not even know. “Of course, it is a challenging position to hold in this Wood, but those that work for it do not go unrewarded here.” He shrugged after a moment, sipped his tea and inclined his head at Legolas. The boy sipped his tea and did his best not to gag on the sweetness of it, making Thranduil grin. “He always falls for that, every time.” He sipped his tea again. Linnariel rolled her eyes and poured half of her son’s tea into her cup and back out into his own to dilute it.
“Pardon my husband’s bad humor, Tauriel,” she commented, giving him a false glare. “He thinks it amusing to give our son large amounts of sweets and leave him with me to deal with the bouncy after-effects.”
Tauriel grinned at her friend, and at Thranduil’s not-even-a-little-guilty face. That certainly appeared true. Momentarily, Thranduil handed Legolas a frosted cookie from the plate and stood up. Legolas munched on the cookie. “Think about it, Tauriel,” he said with a significant nod before reaching for his wife’s hand and squeezing it.
“Just leave, dear,” she commented, pinning him with the same false glare before throwing a napkin at his retreating back. She looked at Tauriel, who seemed a little thunderstruck. “I’m sorry, Tauriel, I didn’t mean to surprise you with that. Please don’t be angry with me for not telling you who my husband is.”
It took her a few seconds to respond. “I… I am not angry, I think. I had honestly guessed along those lines, but not so far as that you were the Queen.” Linnariel shrugged, but Tauriel reached up and put her face in her hands. She angled her head down, her voice growing sad. “I do not think I can accept that position.”
“Whyever not?” Linnariel removed the chunk of cookie that Legolas had let fall on his leg and munched it. She looked a little hurt and figured out why Tauriel was saying these things. “Honestly, Tauriel, I only told him of your friendship to me, I did not even known you could shoot a bow until he said that. He had spoken of nothing about it, I promise you. I have nothing to do with that.” She paused. “And in all honesty, the Guard here is very skilled. He does not offer spots to those unworthy of them. He meant it. Perhaps my friendship with you made him come here today, but he would have found you to make that offer elsewise, friend of mine or not.”
Tauriel looked at Linnariel and shook her head. She guessed her friend was right, but the timing was hard to reconcile. “I guess. I have wanted to apply for training, but I knew that I was too new to the Wood. My father and mother would be so very proud of me if I could manage to make it into the Guard.”
“Then try,” Linnariel suggested, still worried whether she had upset Tauriel very much by keeping her identity a secret. It was always a challenge to find friends that did not think of her as a queen first, and she could very much understand Tauriel’s tribulations of being a transplant to this forest, so she had hoped they would be friends.
Tauriel looked over at where the King had been sitting a minute before. She stared at the seat and blinked a few times before looking at Linnariel with a grin. “So, Linny, how did an elleth from Lothlorien catch the eye of a King?”