Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings Imagines

Thranduil ~ Book

I knew that very few understood my obsession with writing my book, they would always tell me that I could easily have better things to do.

But this was a part of me and I knew I would ever get little else done if I did not do it.

I can't even really remember how the tale came to me but I soon knew that that was all I could focus on.

So I bought a blank book, a fresh quill and lots of ink, and started to write.

The words seemed to flow so naturally and within several months, I managed to fill its pages.

But the story was still not done.

It was an instinct that I knew and I soon found another blank book in my arms and was filling these pages too.

Day and night blended together and there were many nights where I simply fell asleep where I sat, my head upon the open page I was working on.

It was on one of these nights that I first met Thranduil.

I was in the library fast asleep and surrounded by a wall of books, to keep away prying eyes, my quill having slipped from my fingers and rolled along the page leaving black marks, not for the first time.

I don't think I had ever seen Thranduil in the library before and I was more than a little stunned when I was awoken by a sharp tap on my shoulder.

I jumped and blinked rapidly, not remembering falling asleep. Then spun wondering who had woken me up.

My eyes stared into the steely blue eyed gaze of my king.

"King Thranduil." I squeaked. "What are you doing in here?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Am I not allowed to retrieve a book from my own library?"

I blushed darkly. "Um...sorry, that's not what I meant. I...I..."

His gaze had traveled past me to my open book.

"Ah, so you are the one who is writing a book."

It wasn't a question but I answered anyway. "Yes sir."

A smile quirks at his lips. "Be sure that I am the first to read it then. I would hate for something of poor quality to be placed into my library."

My mouth hung open a little as I tried to work out whether that had been an insult or not.

But he waves his hand as he turns away. "Perhaps you will allow me to read the first while you still work on the second, but I shall leave it up to you."

He leaves before I can say anything, leaving me more than a little stunned.

In all honesty I hadn't expected anyone to read it, it was just something that I needed to get done and wasn't worried whether anyone else liked it.

And now the King wanted to read it.

I sunk slowly back down, trying not to panic and think of ways I could get out of it.

No one had ever read what I had written before.

I stared at my half complete page with a sense of dread.

The next day I sat dead still in my chair, still surrounded by my wall of books, as I hugged my first book to my chest tightly. I hadn't slept at all that night and I had been so distracted that I'd barely written a sentence more in my second. It had taken a long time to convince myself to actually allow the king to read my book.

Now, I just sat and waited.

I didn't even know if he wanted it now, but still I sat and waited.

I wasn't sure who was more surprised, me or him, that he turned up or that I was sitting there with my book.

"So, you are going to allow me to read it?"

Still a little terrified of doing this, I simply nod.

"May I?" He holds out his hand and I shakingly handed it over.

Thranduil observes the thick leather cover, his fingers tracing the gold inlay and then loosely flicking through the pages.

"Thank you, I shall get back to you soon." He smiles, tucking the book under his arm and walking away.

I could feel myself shaking. Not only was someone going to read my work, that someone was the King.

What had I done?

It was the first time in a long time that I hadn't spent all day, everyday, writing. I was such a bundle of nerves and excitement that I couldn't focus on my book.

Then dread mixed in, concern of what he would say when he handed the book back to me and I found myself simply staring at a blank page, my quill slowly dripping the black ink onto the book.

There is a cough behind me and I jump, my hand knocking over my inkpot. I curse, hurriedly shifting my book out of the way as black ink spread across the table, then curse again realising that my fingers were already covered in it and now staining it.

A strong hand quickly pulled the book away from me and well away from all the ink.

I stared at a Thranduil as he winces at the black smudges all over it. "I would say it gives the book character but I'm not entirely sure that's how it works."

"It hasn't gone onto any of the writing has it?" I ask hesitantly, trying to get some of the ink off my fingers.

"It doesn't appear so." He looks it over. "Which is good as I would hate to see such beautiful writing get ruined."

He smiles warmly at my stunned expression, something I had never seen the King do before.

"Truly. You have poured your heart and soul into these and it shows. It is beautiful."

"Thank you." I said quietly, hardly knowing my own voice.

Thranduil bows slightly. "You are very welcome. Your grammar needs a little tightening but apart from that, it is flawless." His gaze looks me over. "If you wish, I can wait here with these while you go and clean yourself up?"

I nod, still in shock and my face burning from the compliment. I step away, mentally going over the best way to clean up the ink when I stop dead.

I look back at Thranduil suspiciously, eyeing both books in his hands. "No peeking."

He raises an eyebrow. "I would never."

"I mean it." I said. "I will know."

"I fail to see how, but I will not peek."

I snort, not entirely believing him, but walk away anyway.

Once I was sure I was a safe distance, and that no one was around, I beamed, laughing to myself.

I wasn't sure why I was ever worried.