Idril ran her hands over the smooth flowing fabric that now draped her frame. She was wearing a simple lavender dress that flowed around her ankles gracefully, her hair pulled back into neat braids that were expertly pinned atop her head. She was taken to a chamber to make herself presentable in order to serve under the great Elvenking of Mirkwood, her prior garb nowhere near suiting the job of pleasing the eye.

She studied her complexion closely in the mirror: she looked wiser than she did so long ago. She had been 19 when she mysteriously appeared in the mythical realm of Middle Earth. Three years had passed since then making her 22 years old. It had been difficult to fit into the mid-evil type of behavior and rhythms, it having taking a few seconds of thought to gather the proper words to speak, and now it came to her as naturally as though she had been speaking this way since birth. She supposed it was similar to those who learned new languages by living in a foreign country, immersing themselves into the new culture.

Elrond had been kind enough to take her under his care, teaching her the Elvish language, which was every nerd's dream come true, and teaching her the necessities of survival in Middle Earth. She was able to learn that the Desolation of Smaug had already occurred and been over with by the time she arrived, giving her slight relief in a sense, and giving her a good amount of time before the Lord of the Rings would take place.

She thought back to Thranduil's stoicness when she had first met the Elvenking, his features more attractive in person than through a screen or her imagination. She briefly remembered a time when she fantasized over the seemingly fictional character, gushing over his strikingly good looks and amazing actor with her female friends. Such frivolous thoughts no longer seemed important or worth the effort. Over the years she had been hollowed out of most emotions, her only obsession finding out how to get home and clinging to the little memories she still had.

She would be lying to herself if she said she didn't enjoy her time in Middle Earth though; she had learned so much and made many good friends over the past three years and she would miss them just as dearly as she did the ones she had left behind. Idril stared at her reflection in an almost painstakingly way before sighing, dubbing herself presentable for royal presence and turned away, no longer wanting to sit with her inner turmoil.

She was escorted to the throne room, to be scrutinized by the King's powerful gaze once more. Thranduil was everything she had once imagined; cold, calculating, and every bit regal. She would have to be careful not to upset him and stay on his pleasant side; she had no doubt he could kill her in an instant if he so pleased.

Once she arrived before him, she bowed her head graciously, waiting patiently for his instruction.

Thranduil descended his throne and approached his newly acquired maiden, circling her in close inspection, his eyes reveling in the pleasing sight before him. She was oddly fair for a human, almost as fair as an elf-maiden. He suspected this was a result from residing in Rivendell for a long amount of time.

He stopped right in front of her before grabbing her chin and tilting it upwards, turning her face side to side as he inspected her, her warm eyes never leaving his as he did, "Tell me, how old are you?"

"Twenty-two, your highness."

He stared down at her suspiciously, "You are terribly polite for someone who has been given the duty as a maid."

She gave a small, bittersweet smile, "I am fully aware of the consequences if I so happen to displease you, your highness."

Thranduil eyed her for a moment before letting go of her chin, "How long have you resided in Rivendell?"

"Three years, my King."

If the Elven King was surprised, he didn't show it. He silently noted that she must have been favored if Elrond had kept her under his care for such an extent of time, "As of this moment you will carry out your duties as my personal handmaiden. You will fulfill the duties as does the other maids of the palace with the exception of you will come to my aide whenever I so call upon your services. Is that understood?"

Idril bowed her head slightly, "Náto, amin Aran." Yes, My King.

Thranduil seemed to be satisfied with the exchange and turned back to his throne, dismissing her in the process. Idril was led to servant's chambers, given a room and a gist of jobs that would be expected of her daily until she was released.

A Few Weeks Later...

It wasn't long until Idril set a routine for herself at the palace, carrying out her duties punctually and with poise, keeping the palace more clean and orderly than it had been in centuries. Thranduil observed her carefully, trying to find at least one flaw with the girl but could find none. It was as though nothing he threw at her bothered her and she did every task she was assigned without complaint and followed through flawlessly. He found it entirely too odd for a simple human girl to be capable of. He would have to dig ever so carefully.

He started by giving her more personal tasks. He hosted a feast in the palace in honor of nothing more but the stars. He gave her the specific task of serving him at the head table, his eyes nearly never leaving her, searching for a fluke of some sort. What, he didn't know. He motioned towards her to bring him more wine.

She instantly brought up a pitcher filled with the strong redolent liquid, refilling his glass slowly with an appropriate amount. She looked back up at him with a placid expression, "May I get anything else for you, my King?"

Thranduil felt a small irritation bloom within him at the girl's calm but dismissed her appropriately, "No, that will be all for now."

Idril stared at him for a moment before looking away calmly. She was about to leave the table with the pitcher when Thranduil stopped her by grabbing her arm, "What is it? You looked as though you wish to say something."

She blinked in surprised before smiling softly, knowing better than to brush it off as nothing, "I was only thinking how lovely your eye color is, my King."

Thranduil seemed taken aback slightly by her answer, clearing his throat before letting go of her arm, "You may go then." His free hand had gone up to cover his mouth, something that most wouldn't find peculiar, but those who were around him constantly would see it as a small sign of embarrassment.

Idril smiled softly to herself as she bowed her head and left the table formally; she was no fool, she knew the Elven King had been watching her so intently and she had no intention of letting him unveil anything of her. She always made sure to retire at least a few hours after he did—never before—she always woke up before him or any of the other maids to make not only herself presentable but the rest of the lodgings.

She was very much aware of the other maids' whispers as they carried out their own duties, which were all together smaller portions of what Idril did herself. She didn't particularly mind as much; she was given a place to sleep and food to eat and she was able to retain what precious quiet time she had to herself in the mornings when she bathed alone.

Idril took it upon herself to escort the Elven King back to his own lodgings before performing her nightly duties and retiring herself. She was bidding Thranduil a good night before he stopped her in her tracks with one command, "Dress me."

Idril stood stone shocked as she stared at Thranduil, "You wish me to what?"

Thranduil looked at her with annoyance as he repeated himself, "To dress me. Any common maid can perform such a task." Perhaps it was the influence of the wine, but he felt a strong selfish desire to make her perform the task, wanting to make her ever so careful mask to crack even the slightest bit.

She slowly regained her nerves as she stepped towards him tentatively, "Right, of course..."

She held her breath nervously as she slowly worked at getting his shirt untied, hesitating before pulling it off over his head, "Excuse me, my King..."

It made her uncomfortable how closely he was watching her has she tentatively dressed him, trying not to blush at the sight of his bare torso, but she pretended it did not phase her as she always did, hoping her charade would fool his wise eyes. After she had finished, she went to grab his robe before stopping, her brow puckering ever so slightly as she stared up at it, "My King... I'm afraid I'm too short…" She had never considered herself very short until in the presence of elves, which was an odd thing to get used to, seeing as she was of average height for a human female.

He stood and reached over her as he spoke, "It's fine, I can do this much myself."

He secretly enjoyed the slightest of pouts on her features, seeing how much she didn't want to displease him and watching the silent battle she was having to keep her composure. He simply patted her head softly, something that was extremely unexpected and uncharacteristic, "You did well."

Idril blinked in surprise before smiling warmly, making the Elven King falter slightly, "Thank you, my King."

Thranduil cleared his throat uncomfortably as he turned his back, blaming the accursed wine for his odd behavior as he silently scolded himself, "That will be all, I shall be retiring for the night."

Idril bowed politely before she exited the chambers, speaking in the Elvish tongue, "Rest well, my King."