Your Hands Are Cold

Simply Unthinkable

“Forgive me, I had not known you were here,” I said, as my cheeks blushed red.

 I turned my head and took notice of Thranduil’s gifts. Again, the rosy colour on my cheeks worsened. There was something in me that urged me to run into his arms and hug him, but I stopped that urge. But then again, we were the only two elves of the room.

 “You shouldn’t have done this for me,” I said, as I gazed at the picture of my parents. I appreciated the artist who created the picture, for they paid great attention the detailing in the original picture. It was as if someone had enlarged the original drawing itself, due to such similarities.

 “But I did,” he replied. “Unless you don’t accept my gifts and want to return it back,”

“No, that would be absolutely ridiculous,” I protested. I was studying the framed picture in my hands when I sense that Thranduil wanted to talk to me about something. I could see that it was regarding something personal, and as I was still vexed by the Maerwen and Faelwen’s prying questions, I wanted to avoid all personal conversations that would involve the display of sentiments. But I didn’t put on an irritated expression on my face, and instead I chose to let Thranduil speak to me of his current emotions, which consisted primarily of either wrath, or ardor.

“Maeneth, do you wish for me to court you?” he asked politely, as he rose from his seat, and now stood before me as the giant, intimidating elf he was.

“I don’t really know how to answer that question, Thranduil,”

“I’ll pose a simpler question: do you want to be the queen of Mirkwood?”

“Thranduil, I have no desires to have a higher rank or position. I am completely, and utterly fine with the job I have now, and I do like the fact that we have to keep whatever it is between us a secret,”

“Keeping a secret for too long can be distasteful, don’t you think?” he replied.

Here we go again, I thought to myself. Thranduil is going to try to persuade me to do something that is simply unthinkable.

“Are you suggesting that we make our relationship public?” I almost gasped.

“Maeneth, I’m merely suggesting, I have given you my complete statement yet,” Thranduil spoke. “But have you never dreamt of being queen of all the woodland realm before, not even once?” 

“Perhaps I did when I was younger, but I no longer do. I am content with the life I have now,”

“Very well,” Thranduil’s face expressed a sense of disappointment.

“I am being selfless, you know,” I said. “If you were to wake up one day and had stopped loving me, while I had become queen and your wife, you would go on and despise me. And if I did become queen, I would have to prove myself worthy, and if I disappointed you, the consequent will be similar to the previous one; you would simply despise me, and then we could never be such in a state of happiness anymore,” 

“It’s not a matter of our happiness,” Thranduil spoke. “Well, your happiness matters more, however this kingdom needs a queen,”

“But have you not survived as the sole ruling individual of Mirkwood?”

“Yes, but I became blinded by my melancholy to see that through my arrogance. There has been talk that this kingdom no longer needs the bravery of a king, but the gentle touch of a queen. What is a king without a queen? There are many ancient tales that tell of mighty kings young and old, and these stories show that their queens show no significant role in strengthening their kingdom. But in truth, a queen does so much more,”

“I’m listening,” I replied.

“A queen softens the heart of the king, until it is able to sympathize with his people. A queen removes all the hatred off his soul, until the mighty king becomes the kindhearted person he is supposed to be. I have known only a small amount of elves who can do such a thing,”

“And that includes your deceased wife?”

“Admittedly, she made me become more sympathetic, but now she has perished,” 

“I predict that you are going to tell me how much I resemble her, how I am able to ‘soften your heart’ as you said and how I would be able to fill her shoes as queen of Mirkwood. Thranduil, it’s a pain to hear you talk to me of your wife when we speak. I admired her greatly, but every time you do, it feels as if I am her replacement, or possibly someone you might fall in love for a short amount of time because she reminds you of a lover that you could not forget and then leave,”

He stood there, speechless and looked down at the ground. Obviously, he was trying to think of words as a reply that would not come off as ambiguous or offensive. “I understand that you do not want to be my queen, but it’s difficult for me to accept that,”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I am too aggressive, too hostile, too rude, too arrogant, as an individual, and lacks the proper qualities of a queen that creates a more significant influence towards her people. Since I have not died yet and fortunately, I have fallen in love again, perhaps I thought you would accept my offer,” 

“I’d rather not let us speak of this right now, Thranduil,” I replied, wearing a fatigued expression on my face. The time had already passed 10 PM, my usual curfew. “I’m tired,” 

Thranduil, already in his night robes, sat on my bed.

“Are you expecting me to undress for you?”

“I’m not expecting you, I’m commanding you, as I am your king,”  Thranduil gave a proud smirk.

“Very well, then,” I sighed and began slipping off every single robe off my body until I felt the cool air against my skin. Thranduil too had already stripped off most of his night robes and instead wore only a white tunic, the exact one that I saw him wear on the first day he requested my appearance in his chambers. I sat on top of Thranduil, as his head leaned against the headboard of the four-poster bed. Moonlight shone through the windows of the room and glistened against our skin.

“Until you finally become my queen, I shall kiss you every night,” Thranduil smiled, and then pressed his lips against mine for a short, sweet kiss.

“So when I do agree to become your queen, you will no longer kiss me every night?” This time, I gave him a short kiss. In the end, we were currently exchanging kisses during conversation intervals. 

“No,” Thranduil smiled as he stared at my lips. “I shall kiss you every morning, every afternoon, every evening, every night, and every time I have the chance to kiss you, Maeneth,”

I wrapped my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer so that I could lie on his chest as his lips lingered on mine.

Well, if this is what being queen of the woodland realm feels like, I thought. Then being a queen might not seem so bad at all.