Your Hands Are Cold

Changing Feelings

It’s still surprising to say to myself that for the past two weeks, the king has requested my company. The loathing I once had towards Thranduil has nearly fully perished. There are times when he displays hostility for palace staff when I’m seen with him around the palace, but I think it’s only because he is obliged to. No one else than Legolas or his departed queen has actually seen him in such a state of content. For the first few weeks, since the first morning Thranduil invited me to breakfast, I have not stopped thinking about him.

My hands were busy creating the finishing touches to an attire I was making for Thranduil. Something was odd, because Thranduil usually ordered clothing with dark colors, or something that would match the gloom of the woodland realm. However, he requested robes with light colors of gold with hints of violet.

I did my work as usual, when a knock appeared on my door. I expected the guest to be either Maerwen or Faelwen, but instead, Thranduil appeared on my doorstep.

It was still noon, and I expected Thranduil to be sitting on his throne, examining the current situation of the kingdom with palace staff. He looked more informal than usual, and dressed so casually that even his braids were off.

“May I come in?” he asked. I simply nodded, and hurried back into my work desk to stash away the robes I was currently making for him and placed it in my wardrobe. Thranduil stood in the middle of the room, as his eyes were looking around, and observing my chambers.

“You keep your chambers clean,” he stated.

“It’s more of organized chaos, really,” I smiled.

Thranduil paced towards a special wooden dresser in which I keep souvenirs and items of my old life. Along with the wooden carving my grandmother gave me, there were personal writings and paintings that I stashed away so that no one would find it. Well, no one except for Thranduil. He picked up a small sketch of my father, my mother and me when I was an infant. In the drawing, I nestled close to my mother as she held me in her arms. My mother’s figure was visibly robust due to the many years of training and working in an armory. My father, who stood next to her, gave a gleaming smile.

“Are these your parents?” Thranduil asked, as he gazed at the drawing.

“Yes, they are,” I replied. “Although I have very little memory of them,”

“You have no siblings?”

“No, not even one. After my mother gave birth to me, she was unable to have more children, and she chose not to, because she thought the life of the chief of the guard did not have much time to look after their children,”

Thranduil put back the drawing and then averted his gaze to me. I felt much smaller, and much more inferior when I stood before him. He was tall, much more robust, and the impression that he gave away was simply intimidating. But once the curve of the small smile appeared on his lips, all of the hostile demeanor that he gave off, completely disappeared.

“How are you, Maeneth?” he asked. “I want to know how you feel. I hoped your life in the palace hasn’t become too uncomfortable for you, after the events that have occurred these past month,”

“Melda tár, I can tell you that I’m more than fine,”

“Are you happy?”

I laughed, and replied, “My king, my happiness shouldn’t be a matter of importance of you. But if you must know, I am happier now than I was back home. Perhaps this is just another form of blissful content that I have not known,”

“The words that escape your mouth,” Thranduil smiled. “They are simply magnificent,”

“Well, I take that as a compliment, my king,”

“I would prefer if you stopped calling my your king ever so often. You may call be by my own name, Maeneth, as I do to you,” he spoke.

And with that, Thranduil left the room, with an expressionless look on his face, and not saying another word. Not even bidding me a good afternoon.

A/N: Moody ass Thranduil, SMH.