Kingsfoil [Thranduil] LOTR

Dangerous

Autumn 2941, Third Age:

Failure left such a bitter taste in his mouth.

It was late, far later than the Elven King was known to stay on his enormous carven throne, now cast into a pool of darkness in the cavernous hall. If the king's antlered broach on his chest did not occasionally reflect the lamplight, then he would have easily been mistaken for the shadows.

"I missed them?" Narylfiel's voice betrayed her disappointment. She had never seen a dwarf before. It was just one more let down that she was going to have to let go.

"They may have escaped," the king admitted crossly.

"That's impossible!" she exclaimed and frowned.

"Apparently not," the king bit off his words. Narylfiel could not make his expression out very clearly because of the shadows, but even so, this might have been the angriest that she had ever seen her king.

"Tell me about what happened?" Narylfiel asked, looking up at the throne, hoping he would come down to her.

Thranduil uncrossed his legs and then crossed them again. He muttered something that Narylfiel could not quite make out.

Now, many a wise elf would have turned and discreetly left the king to his own dark mood at this point, but Narylfiel had never counted herself among the very wise. Instead, she climbed the stairs ascending to the king's enormous antlered throne and plopped down at the top step at his feet.

He scowled at her. She could see his face clearly now and the way his eyebrows seemed to curve into a singular frustrated line, but she remained undaunted.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked sharply.

"Well, I'm pretty hungry, having just come back from the southern border, but I wanted to spend some time with you," she told him, ignoring his pique.

"So you're just going to sit there?" asked the king. His eyes glittered coolly in the dark.

"With you, your majesty," she replied simply and gazed up at him. She knew he was angry, and his temper honestly frightened her from time to time. But they were also friends, and she could not in good conscience leave him stewing over the dwarves' escape all night.

"I might stay here all night," he countered, smoothing out an invisible crease from his tunic.

"Then I shall as well," Narylfiel said agreeably.

"I could order the guards to carry you to the dungeons," the king warned her.

"Apparently," she said, borrowing his own word from earlier, and smiled sweetly up at him, "they're not that secure."

Thranduil pursed his lips at her remark. Of course he was not going to laugh, even if it was funny; instead, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he said. "But only because I can't have you fainting off the steps from lack of nourishment."

He stood and then helped her to her feet. "I really despise those greedy little miners," he told her as they walked down to the kitchens. "They honestly believe they're better than the elves, Narylfiel." He snorted and pushed open the door to the dining room. "Delusional."

"Where do you think they went?"

"Oh, I have no doubt that they want to return to Erebor," Thranduil said tiredly as pulled out a chair for her and took his usual seat at the table. "This whole mess will end in a bloodbath, Narylfiel. Our people are not the only ones with claim to the treasure in that mountain. If the dragon does not kill them first, then..."