A/N Another short little chapter because I really felt like writing tonight. I also really like putting little elvish phrases into the story so there is another one in here. I looked it up so it should be correct - J x
Heruamin is elvish for 'my lord'
The King's dining hall is lavish and beautiful. A high table stands in the middle of the room surrounded by chairs, with one chair which more resembles a throne at the high end of it. It's not as exquisite as his actual throne of course, but it is still beautiful. The carved wood mimics antlers above the head rest and swirls downwards to form large armrests. The polished wood is decorated with elvish words carved into it; an ancient song I believe, although I've never been close enough to read what it says.
Thranduil already sits upon it, his position is relaxed with his arms draped over the rests, his body leaning back into the support of the wood, but his face looks tense and unhappy. No change there then. They say that Thranduil was once a happy man, kind hearted and loving until he lost his wife. The bitterness and pain of his loss has hardened him until we young elves can hardly believe when they tell us he was not always this way.
"Ahh, so nice of you to join us my son," The king sits more upright as he drawls at Legolas. There are other elves around the table too, high ranking members of the counsel or old friends of Thranduil. All have that look about them, the look of elves who have seen many years and much sorrow; a look of a person who knows much about the world. I suddenly feel very young and foolish. I try to shrink back behind Legolas but to no avail.
"And Tauriel too! Come; tell me, how is the title of Captain of the guard becoming you?" Thranduil leans forward onto the table that is laden with piles of rich food; platters of fish and meat, bowls of lush fruit and several loaves of bread. His other guests appear weary of his chit chat and look like they wish nothing better than to tuck into the feast before them. It makes me uneasy, being the centre of the king's attention but I would never admit it aloud. I'm about to answer his question when the doors clatter open.
The guests wear a mixture of expressions; some disgusted at being interrupted, others shocked, but the king stands to greet the arrival. It's the same guard that saw Legolas and I walk in, he looks flustered for an elf, when we are usually so composed. His bow is in his hand rather than at his back which make my fingers itch for my own, suddenly fearing a danger.
"Heruamin! The spiders have returned to our lands, we believe something has drawn them in for an attack,"
Spiders again? So soon after we rid our lands of them, it seems there is no escaping the foul beasts. My bow is in my hand before I realise it.
"Heruamin Thranduil, as Captain of the guard, it is my duty..." I trail off with my excuse, thinking only of the problem facing me. Thranduil puts his head in his hand for a second and exhales; I feel strangely embarrassed for him, as if I have intruded on a private moment of weakness.
"Yes, by all means go, Tauriel. Legolas, accompany them." I race from the room as quickly as I can; this is where I belong, on a hunt, or guarding our kingdom from foes – not in a room of elders and the king, trying to be polite. I'm almost out of ear shot when I hear King Thranduil's last command.
"Do your task properly this time and make sure they do not return." The comment irritates me but I brush it off. In no time at all I've gathered my guard and with Legolas and I leading, we head out into the night.
