Disclaimer: Everything/everyone you recognise belongs to Tolkien.

Beta: SilverySparks - she helped me so much that I'm not sure if shouldn't make her a co-author XD THANK YOU so much, dear - for patience, quickness and your work altogether.

Thranduil's new crown

Thranduil jumped down from his horse and patted Milutirith's neck. After all, it wasn't the animal's fault that the hunt had gone so wrong. He watched as Daeron lectured the two youths who had wanted to prove themselves and entered the hunting area without anyone's knowledge. They had almost been shot by Thranduil's group.

"Aran nîn!"

Thranduil turned at the sound and saw his advisor Kaladen with his circlet in hand. "The delegation of dwarves has finally arrived. Mirnis is walking them to their rooms right now," he informed him, giving him his circlet. Thranduil sighed tiredly, feeling his annoyance at the arrogant youths pick up once again. Great, instead of hunting now he would have to talk with those stupid rockeaters...

"Can't they wait ten minutes, Kaladen? They should have been there a week ago. They can't complaint about punctuality. I have to change at least," he said as his advisor ushered him in to the palace.

"Unfortunately, they gave us an ultimatum: You meet them in one hour or there will be no weapons for Greenwood. You are ten minutes late already, hîr nîn," Kaladen replied as they entered the palace and Limanae joined them, passing to his king a more regal white cloak. If not for the fact that he needed good swords and his best smith had journeyed to Rivendell for practice, Thranduil would have kicked the dwarves out of his kingdom himself. His mood darkened as the next realisation came to his mind.

"Wait, what have the dwarves been doing for almost an hour in my house?" He trusted his people not to let strangers go wandering around the palace on their own, but what would dwarves do if not dig around?

"As I told you, aran nîn, they were, well still are, walking to their rooms," Kaladen repeated and steered Thranduil in another direction when the king headed for the throne room. "This way sire, we will meet them halfway." The ellon smirked as Thranduil followed him to the corridor circling the practice grounds. The Elvenking noticed with a frown that in place of the paintings showing battle scenes other decorations had been put up.

"What is the meaning of thi-" he tried to ask, but was cut off by the sight of his scribe, Cadanir, who was carrying one of the paintings, and a few other elves with colourful curtains.

"Finally! These are the last that the dwarves haven't seen!" Cadanir gave a relieved sigh, but offered no further explanation as the elves started putting up new decorations.

"Am I missing something important?" Thranduil had an urge to throw his arms up in the air.

"The dwarves expressed a desire to look around the palace. We didn't think it wise but couldn't refuse and this corridor just happened to be shaped like an ellipse… So now Mirnis is leading them through it for the fifth time. Cadanir changed decorations so they wouldn't notice," Limanae explained quickly. Thranduil looked at her with astonishment.

"Shame that I was too busy looking for you to see that charade," laughed Kaladen. The elves with the earlier decorations hurried out of the corridor as Mirnis' voice approached.

"These are paintings of the great Sagordor," Mirnis droned loudly as he and the company of dwarves came around the corner. Six bearded faces expressed utter boredom and the Elvenking couldn't suppress the small satisfied smirk that tugged at his lips.

"Welcome, sons of Erebor," Kaladen greeted the visitors as soon as they were within earshot. Thranduil nodded a polite greeting. He wouldn't address them himself until the dwarven leader stepped forward.

"Welcome, welcome," grumbled a black-haired dwarf, his voice by no means respecting but just as civil as Thranduil expected. "You might have bazillions of different pictures but your architecture is definitely boring. This part of the palace looks exactly like the part we were in half an hour ago, oh Elvenking."

To Thranduil's surprise, the dwarf looked directly into Kaladen's eyes. His second advisor cleared his throat and stepped back until he was slightly behind his king.

"What, are you hiding behind your lover, your Highness?" asked boldly another of the smiths' company. All elves froze in shock. For a moment Thranduil didn't understand what the dwarf was saying. When the realisation came his vision turned red.

The moment of hesitation was enough for the youngest of the dwarves to gather his courage. "You truly are as beautiful as they say," he piped up.

"If a little flat on the chest," a red-bearded dwarf cut in, scrutinizing Thranduil's upper body. Limanae caught her lord's arm with a frightened gasp. The Elvenking's mouth opened and closed a few times before he found his voice again.

"I am no maiden!" Thranduil seethed. "I am the King of Greenwood the Great!"

To make matters worse, the dwarves – excluding a blonde one – seemed genuinely surprised.

"I told you she resided in Lórien!" grunted the only unsurprised smith, crossing his arms.

"Tall, blonde... blue eyes and a fancy circlet, they all look the same!"

"You… thought I was- I was – Gala- Galadriel?" The red disappeared from Thranduil's vision. Instead, everything seemed unnaturally clear and sharp now. He was going to kill them all. Slowly. With as much pain inflicted as possible. Limanae's grip tightened on his arm as she and Kaladen almost dragged him backwards.

"I've heard that the negotiations with dwarves didn't go well," Melianel prompted carefully as her husband readied for bed. He turned to her with his shirt half undone.

"They insulted me," he growled and went back to undressing but this time with more fervor than needed, almost tearing his clothes. "In the most humiliating way."

The queen raised her brows. "I was told that one of the dwarves called you beautiful. I don't think it's an insult. Or have you insulted me so many times without my knowledge, love?"

"They mistook me for Galadriel, Melianel. That wretched WITCH!" he shouted, giving in to the built up rage. To his astonishment, Melianel only laughed.

"That's all? Oh, good. Rumours were I shouldn't let you out of my sight-" she stopped, half closing her eyes but he could still see mirth in them. She then continued in a slow, seductive voice, "-with the way that dwarf flirted with you." Oh, yes, when he thought that nothing could surprise him anymore his wife proved him wrong.

"You cannot be serious!"

She chuckled, seeing his insulted and disbelieving expression. "Calm down, dear, you simply need something to set you apart from the beautiful Lady of the Light." He glared at her and her smile widened. "Come now, husband, tomorrow is your birthday and Legolas has made an amazing gift for you. It would be a shame if you were in a bad mood because of a sleepless night."

At at the mention of his son Thranduil's expression softened. He hadn't had much time for Legolas lately. As he lay down on the bed, he vowed to show his son absolute gratitude for whatever he'd give him – Thranduil would even wear 'it' if his son insisted.

Thranduil smiled warmly, looking at his son's beautiful blue eyes as his mind tried to work out what the thing in the elfling's hands was. What should he call that construction? It wasmade of leaves and twigs woven into a shape of a moon. Maquette, perhaps? Or simpler even – some art. An abstract form, maybe?

"Thank you, ion nîn," the Elvenking decided to say at last, taking the gift.

"Won't you wear it, Ada?"

Damn, what should he do now? Panic started to rise in him as his son waited expectantly with an angelic expression. Should he put it on his arm? Maybe neck or shoulder? Inwardly, he cringed. Its sharp points didn't look inviting.

"Won't you help me take it on?" he asked finally.

Legolas giggled and took back his gift, putting up his arms. Thranduil resisted the urge to grimace. He remembered clearly when he had told Legolas that he was too big to be carried around. He also remembered times when he would chastise Melianel for picking up their son. He spared a second to glance at his wife and saw a predatory smirk at her face. It promised that she would remind him of breaking his own rule whenever she got the chance. Wonderful. He decided that upsetting Legolas would have more severe consequences, though. He sighed as he picked up his son. To his surprise, the elfling put the construction on his head.

"It's the most beautiful design of the autumn crown I've ever seen, ion nîn," said Melianel, solving Thranduil's mystery.

Oh dear.

"Another name of Galadriel, Lady of..." Legolas' brows furrowed as he read the questions his teacher of politics had given him. It was a real relief that his father had agreed to help. They were now in the king's study, Legolas lying on the carpet with his notebook before him and Thranduil sitting in his chair. "The word has five letters."

"Fools," Thranduil answered with a smirk as Calanthe brushed and braided his hair. The maid's job was made difficult by a certain crown that still resided on the Elvenking's head but Thranduil owed his son that much. "Wait, don't write that!" he cried out as his son started scribbling in his notebook.

"Why? It fits and it's the truth," protested Legolas innocently but with dismay in his big eyes. "Haldir was stupid." Truth be told, the Lórien elf had only said a few wrong words concerning the prince's age and inexperience but all ellyn of Oropher's line had an (almost) unhealthily good memory.

"The truth is not always the answer, especially in politics. Write 'Lady of Light'." A knock on the door interrupted the silence as Legolas changed his answer.

"Sire, the meeting with the Rivendell guests is in ten minutes," informed him Kaladen, staring with amusement at the thing on the king's head. "Are you ready, aran nîn?" Legolas wasalready gathering his things, knowing that he had to go. Thranduil felt a pang of guilt as his child showed such discipline - and darn it, wasn't it a strange thing coming from a parent?

"I will come to your room later, ion nîn," he said before he could think better of it. Another promise he wasn't sure he could keep...

Legolas' face brightened at his father's words and he nodded enthusiastically, exiting the room. When the door closed after him, the king sighed.

"Okay, take off that crown," he commanded but Calanthe only looked at him, surprised.

"I-I hadn't thought you would want to take it off, sire. The braids are woven into the crown, forgive me, aran nîn, I won't be able to change it on time now."

Thranduil's expression was beyond words.

"Well, at least you are going to be original, my lord," laughed Kaladen and Thranduil felt an urge to hit his friend.

The meeting didn't go half as badly as Thranduil had feared it would. The guards and servants seemed already informed of the fact that 'the crown' was a gift from Legolas and only smiled discreetly, albeit no less warmly, at their ruler's dedication to his son. Two maids even quietly gushed over him in the corner. And the guests? Well, they were in no position to criticize their host. The Elvenking even started to enjoy their uncomfortable shifting in the seats and their unsure eyes straying to the top of his head. At least he could be sure that the next delegation from Rivendell wouldn't come too soon.

Later, in the warmth of his sleeping chamber Thranduil turned to his wife with a grin.

"Maybe I will wear that crown after all."

"At least dwarves will have no excuse for mistaking you for the Lady of Light," agreed Melianel with a laugh. Thranduil ignored the jest.

"Maybe I should think of something else as well? A throne made of antlers..." he joked instead and his wife snorted, rolling her eyes.

Little did they know that the prince was standing by the door, eavesdropping and was already thinking about how to gather the needed materials.

"Well, Lavan, you gotta eat much so your antlers grow big."

The great elk glanced at the hundredth carrot in the little prince's hand. "I really need them to build a throne for Ada..." The Mirkwood elves didn't see just how much Lavan sacrificed for them. With a long-suffering look he ate the offending vegetable.

Lavan – animal - usually applied to four-footed beasts; I'm using it for Thranduil's elk

What do you think about it?