Sun streamed in through the windows of the Mirkwood healing hall. Thorin shielded his eyes as he sat up in bed, groaning at the bandages wrapped around his ribs. An eleven nurse rushed over to his side.
"Your Highness," she said. "How are you feeling?" She poured him a glass of water and handed it to him.
Thorin guzzled it down greedily. The water was cool and quenched his parched throat. He set down the glass on the bedside table and looked around. "Where am I?" he demanded.
The nurse wrung her hands. "Master Dwalin found you unconscious on the battlefield and we took you in. You're in Mirkwood, sir."
Horror flashed through Thorin's eyes. "Mirkwood!?" he cried.
"Oh, please, sir. Don't stress yourself. King Thranduil has already signed a truce with your short-term replacement."
Thorin's brow furrowed in confusion. "My replacement?"
"Your cousin Dain has taken over your duties until you recover."
Thorin groaned and rubbed his forehead. Dain? A king? He will probably alienate every kingdom in Middle Earth before he was well enough to walk! "Help me up." he ordered the nurse.
The nurse looked confused. "Are you sure? You're still hurt very bad - " she protested, but Thorin was insistent. He had to get back before a total disaster occured in Erebor. She helped him to his feet and started to leave.
Thorin stopped her. "One thing…" he said grumpily. "Is there anywhere I can…" he hesitated over the word. It was so humiliating. "...bathe?"
The nurse nodded. "There's a pool out back. It's completely private. I'll bring you a change of clothes" she explained. Thorin thanked her and started for the bathing pool.
- MEANWHILE -
The matchmaker ran out of the royal wing screaming. She stopped in front of King Thranduil, a wild look in her eyes. "This girl is a menace!" she shrieked. "You deal with her, or so help me I will have the guards banish her myself!"
Thranduil spluttered. "Ah- I'm sure it's not that bad?" The matchmaker threw the wriggling fish in his face and stomped off, tearing out her hair the whole way. Thranduil peeked into the Princess's room. Princess Lítina was sitting by herself on her bed, hugging her knees.
"Care to explain?" Thranduil started, sternly, crossing his arms. Lítina stayed silent with her back turned. "Alright, then. Don't tell me, but this behaviour needs to stop."
Lítina turned and glared at him. "You're not my father." she said bitterly.
Thranduil ignored her jab. "What is it this time? She pinched you too much? You need to get married! You're already 500."
Lítina got up and stalked past him. "Oh, shut up already." she snapped.
"You can't talk to me like that! I am not just your uncle - I'm your king!" But his niece just ignored him and kept walking. Thranduil let out an exasperated sigh. "Legolas was such an easy child..."
Lítina glided down the steps, her long black hair flowing behind her. That was one of her main differing characteristics. She was shorter than the other elves and her black hair made her stand out like nothing else could. She headed outside the palace and wandered through the trees. Being here, under the trees, helped calm her down when nothing made sense. Her blood still boiled as she cut through the undergrowth. How dare she. The matchmaker had told her she was a hopeless case and that her hair was too dark to attract a suitable husband. It's insulting. How DARE she?! The sound of flowing water caught her attention. She crept closer and surmised that someone must be bathing. An evil idea crept into her mind when she spotted the clothes hanging on the tree branch. She was going to make these elves pay for how they treated her. She snatched the clothes and started to walk away, when she heard the bathing individual slosh out of the water. A brief silence, then an ear-splitting yell. Lítina's eyes widened in horror. It sounded like a man's voice. He cursed in what she recognized as Dwarvish and the realization sunk in. Oh. That was -
" - OUR DWARVEN GUEST!" Thranduil exploded. "WE JUST SIGNED A PEACE TREATY AND YOU GO AND PULL THIS!?" He paced back and forth in front of his throne, furious.
Lítina poked her fingers together. "Okay, in my defense, I thought it was just some elf." Legolas pinched his forehead.
"JUST AN ELF?! JUST A-" Thranduil cut himself off and stared down his niece. "What has gotten into you? First the matchmaker, now this? The Dwarf King?!"
Lítina gulped and Legolas glared at her. Thranduil collapsed on his throne and poured himself some wine. "You are lucky Thorin left today for his coronation," he said after taking a long sip. "Otherwise he would have killed you with his bare hands." Lítina once more gulped as Thranduil sat up straight. She knew that was the pose he made when he was about to say something big. "Unlucky for you," he continued. "You are going to his coronation, and you will apologize promptly and politely to the King Under The Mountain."
Lítina let out an involuntary scream. "I can't!" she cried, face burning. "That's humiliating! I stole his clothes!"
But Thranduil wasn't swayed by her cries. "Oh, you can and you will, and I will be right there to make sure you do so."
"Please, uncle! Can't I just send a letter to him through a messenger? You can't possibly be so cruel as to think I would - " Thranduil waved his hand in dismissal and the guards escorted Lítina out.