Song for This Chapter
I will admit to being bored.
When you cannot venture even into the woods alone, and your kingdom's palace is a grand series of caverns in the ground, one begins to feel a bit stifled.
I had taken to frequent visits to the gardens on the west end of the palace. Here, the corridors rose upward again and led out of doors, through grand stone columns and a vast courtyard full of statues and carvings made of wood. Upon some, vines and greenery grew, as if meant to decorate them.
The gardens were backed to the Mirkwoods, but there was no path leading through them here. I imagined a back way of entry for possible enemy attack would be a very undesirable thing, and so they had left it as inaccessible to outsiders as was possible, thick, dense as can be, and nearly impenetrable without great effort and notice.
But, before the woods began, there lay a large series of grounds, all with a particular style that was rather aged and weathered. More statues were scattered throughout its many divides, and each piece was covered in a layer of moss or green residue.
Some sections were for flowers that grew wild, with long and spidered leaves that reached over their boundaries onto the path beside them. Other parts were neater, more contained. And then there were secret seeming alcoves beneath leaf and vine made arches, which led to stone benches amongst the cave of leaves. There sunlight poured through every nook and crevice, almost sparkling.
These little leafy havens were nearly my favorite part of the gardens.
But my most favorite part was the pond of fountains.
It was one large pool, though it meandered quite irregularly in shape, round a few corners and up to the woods themselves, and small trees and plants grew from its stoney center.
I would sit upon its edge and place my fingers in the water, for water was most dear to me, and consider how unhelpful I felt.
I knew that a lack of need for healing was a good thing, but I would have gladly helped in other ways, had they let me. But every time I had asked, Feren would tell me that I ought to enjoy the quiet and solitude while I could before encountering its opposite.
The king kept to himself, for the most part, though I was not certain how he spent his time.
Once or twice I saw him passing down one corridor into another, or emerging from the courtyard alone, almost as a ghost. But besides these times, it had been a few weeks with very little contact between us.
In the evenings I had taken to reading, but I was quickly running out of texts, and so I ventured down the dark corridors by myself, around to the Western end of the palace, and then back upwards to the library.
I had come here at night before, but tonight, I stood contemplating which collection of Elven poetry to read, some love sonnets featuring a Minstrel of Imladris, or some Tales of Great Kings by an Elven historian named Feldir of the Grey Havens.
Both sounded ìnteresting, but I had been reading nightly for hours upon hours, and eventually I decided perhaps I might visit the gardens, instead, as they were just down the corridor and out the Western door, and I was certain they would be lit somehow.
So there I went, past the statues in the courtyard, past the little leafy caves, which were now lit from the inside by the glow of orange light and not quite so appealing to me as the sunshine.
