Time Isn't Healing [Thranduil Fanfiction/The Hobbit]

V. Faeryn. Hail To Your King

"Are you ready?"

Faeryn asked Thranduil one more time as she was helping the elven prince with his hair. Professionally, the elleth turned to his back and began to straighten the king's famous golden robe. Should anyone did not know Faeryn, they would have thought she was simply a normal silvan elf for her skilled performances. The she elf made herself busy, dashing here and there, when to find the hairbrush, when to find his newly made shoes. Faeryn sometimes cursed, too, when she found out a stubborn strand of hair that just wouldn't settle where it was supposed to be.

"Don't get nervous, okay?" Faeryn reminded Thranduil carefully of what should he do when the time comes.

Since that morning when she made her way in and helped the prince ready, she had refused to meet his eyes. She had never been afraid to look in those eyes before, only this time she was truly terrified to show Thranduil how scared she was of this day. Faeryn was aware that thing were going to be different from this day on, to Thranduil and to both of them; he would be their king the moment the crown was set on his head along with such responsibility to the kingdom's fate and its people.

"You've told me the exact same thing for a while, Faeryn. I'm not even a bit nervous." She heard Thranduil said but all the elleth managed to do was to nod bluntly.

"I know... but just don't be." And then Faeryn went back to brushing his hair, for the fifthtieth time. She felt like fainting, which was absolutely ridiculous but the elf could not help the range. The elleth laughed silently in her head for being too sensitive.

Suddenly her hand became stuck, and Faeryn looked up to see a very annoyed Thranduil gawking his eyes at her. She tried yanking his grip away but like usual, the stronger elf just would not let go. "What are you doing? Let me go." Faeryn testily demanded her freedom as she started hitting his hand with the 'harmless' brush.

"I will if you guarantee that you'll stop it." She opened her mouth to protest. She did not do anything crazy, did she? Thranduil was faster, unfornatually, he had cut Faeryn off instantly by putting his hand over her mouth and blocked any possible verbal sense from being voiced. "And what I meant by it including doing my hair until you are suffice but apparently, you won't be until the next hundred years, soothing my clothes and won't stop even when there's nothing left to soothe and..."

"I get it! I'll stop." Faeryn rolled her green orbs, threw the brush and herself onto the bed. She had lied there and stared at the ceiling for a brief moment before telling the smirking soon-to-be king at the end of the bed. "How rude, Thranduil. How rude." Faeryn kicked her feet slightly in the air as they hit his legs, Thranduil caught one in one catch.

Faeryn bolted up in the speed of life and was about to crawl away when Thranduil pulled her back by the foot. "You shouldn't have called a prince rude, dear Faeryn," his eyes glowed with joy when he said so, "You will be punished for this."

"Ah ah, no! I'm ticklish!" She yelped and started laughing in panic as his fingers moved under her feet. "Not... f... fai... fair...! St... stop it, Thranduil!" Faeryn found herself having trouble breathing since all she could manage to form in verbal were hysterical laughter.

But only when the elleth's eyes had teared did her friend stopped; he could not help but chuckle at how adorable she was with her face all painted with crimson. Faeryn sank into the blanket where she had made sure that Thranduil would not play any tricks and glared at him with discontent. "You are going to pay for this." The she elf mumbled childishly with her face glued to the pillow.

Later of the incident, Faeryn had decided to be generous and set aside her little revenge. A silvan elf had come looking for her afterwards to get prepared and so she left Thranduil's chamber.