Wanderlust (Legolas LOTR)

Challenge Accepted

Earlier that day...

Legolas stormed into his father's study, his cheeks still burning from his recent conversation with Thaliniel in the kitchens. He had been so close to telling her how he felt, and the fact that he had been able to say that he wanted to be with her, but did not get to hear her response still rankled. He was sure that Galadhor's perfectly timed interruption had been no accident, and he knew just who to blame.

Thranduil's ornamental robe glistened in the light filtering down from the hanging lamps and skylights overhead as he looked up from his correspondence at his desk to peer at his son. The prince's flushed face did not go unnoticed. Thranduil smirked.

"Legolas, you will take my place at the Elders' Council this afternoon," Thranduil held up a hand before his son could protest. "Please emphasize to them that I will not endorse their foolish plan to send an emissary to the White Council, nor will I spare any of the guards to accompany them."

The king's words hit Legolas like a two-fisted punch; the Elders' Council meetings were notorious for dragging on for hours. He would not have any extra time to spend with Thaliniel. However, he kept his disappointment to himself and nodded obediently.

The king glanced at his son curiously. "You are not wearing your prince's crown," he observed with a frown.

"No, Ada...I forgot," Legolas heard himself say stupidly. Forget the fact that he was almost six hundred years old! With a withering glance, his father could still make him feel like an elfling.

"Well, see that you remember to put it back before the council meeting," Thranduil said and stood up from his ornately carved chair and adjusted the open collar of his tunic. "Tell me, son. How are you coming along at distancing yourself from your latest conquest? Thaliniel, is it?"

Legolas leveled an incredulous gaze at his father. "You know her name," he said flatly. "You forget, father, that I have watched you play these sorts of games with our subjects for years."

The king smiled blandly. "Then you should know that I always win," he replied archly as he crossed the room to leave. Thranduil paused at the door. "Oh, and Legolas? Do not let me hear of you leaving the Elders' Council halfway through the meeting like you did this morning. Your presence will be required for the entire time."

Thranduil swept from his study into his stateroom next door, where he knew Galadhor would be waiting. Without pause, Thranduil sharply eyed his chief-of-staff and inquired, "You spoke with her then, after the prince left?"

Galadhor nodded, one quick motion. "I told her exactly what you instructed me to."

The king crossed his arms and leaned back on the long angular table dominating the room, a shadow of a smile playing across his face.

"Good," said Thranduil.
- . - . - - . . -
Abandoning caution, Thaliniel flung open the door of the stable and was immediately greeted by the sweet smell of hay and the musty tang of horses. She spied Thranduil at the far end of the stables, which were quite expansive and well-kept. The doors and stalls were neat and fashioned from brightly polished wood, and even in such a utilitarian space, the carpentry was painstaking and elegant.

The elvenking knelt toward the back wall near an open stall, and his appearance caught the young maiden completely off-guard. Thranduil wore his immaculate, long hair pulled back in a simple tie, and he had traded his luxurious robes for a simple tunic; his long, clever fingers were devoid of any of his favorite showy rings. He almost looked...normal.

In fact, such was Thaliniel's fascination with the king's altered state that she failed to see a feed bucket carelessly left in the aisle. She stepped right into the pail just as Thranduil stood up and glanced her way.