A/N: I know it's been a while. Not edited, I wanted to get this out ASAP, so didn't read over it! Sozzies, all mistakes are mine!
The day passed much as the day before had done. Orophin and Haldir had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Thorin joined the elves in the drawing room. The quanta kard table, however, did not appear. Thranduil was writing, and Haldir, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter. Rúmil and Elladan were huddled over a chessboard, and Orophin was observing their game. Thorin removed a few silver beads from his pocket and withdrew a small, iron pick from his belt; and thus looking busy, he was free to amuse himself with observing what passed between Thranduil and his companion.
The perpetual praises of the Silvan-elf either on his handwriting, or the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, formed a curious dialogue.
"How delighted Legolas will be to receive such a letter!"
Thranduil made no answer.
"You write uncommonly fast."
"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."
How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of a year. Letters of Political nature too! How odious I should think them!"
"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of yours."
"Pray tell your son that I long to see him."
Thorin was surprised by the revelation. He knew the elf was uncommonly old, and therefore likely to have been married before; but the rumors, that spread through Dale like wild fire, only spoke of his availability and wealth."
"I have already told him so once, by your desire."
"I am afraid you do not like your quill," fussed Haldir. "Let me mend it for you. I mend quills incredibly well."He made a grab for it.
"Thank you – but I always mend my own," said Thranduil, pulling the quill out of his reach.
This prompted another surprised look. To think an elf of so much statue did anything for himself, was unexpected.
"How do you write so even?"
He was silent.
"Tell Legolas I am delighted to hear of his improvement on the harp, and please let him know that I was quite impressed with his beautiful design for a satchel, and I think its infinitely superior to Inglor's."
"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again?" Thranduil drawled with a hint of impatience. "At present I have no room to give them justice."
"Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see him this spring. But do you always write such charming long letters to him?"
"They are generally long; but whether always charming, I do not know."
"It is a rule with me, that a creature who can write a long letter, with ease, cannot write ill."
"That will not do for a compliment to Thranduil, Haldir," cried Rúmil, "because he does not write with ease. He studies to much for that."
"My style of writing is very different from yours," agreed the Sindar.
"Oh! Rúmil writes in the most careless way imaginable," laughed his brother. "He leaves out half his words and blots the rest."
"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have no time to express them – by which I mean that my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all," he joined in the laughter.
"Your humility, Lord Silvan-elf, "said Thorin, once the chortling died down, "must disarm disapproval."
"Nothing is more deceitful," said Thranduil, "than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion; or worse yet an indirect boast."
"And which of the two do you think fits my little piece of modesty?"
"The indirect boast – for you are in fact very proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them the product of the rapidity of your thoughts and ideas – which will promote further interest into the study of your character. The power of doing something with quickness is always praised, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told the wife of Thráin this morning that if you were to quite Lórien, you would do so at a moments notice, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric – a compliment to yourself."
"Nay," cried Rúmil, "this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honor, I believe what I said of myself to be true. I assure you Thranduil, I did not assume boastfulness, merely to show off before the dwarrows."
"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such swiftness. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any creature I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, "Rúmil, you had better stay till next week," you would probably do it, you would probably not go – and, at another word, might stay a month."
"You have only proved by this," growled Thorin, in defense of his host, "that Lord Silvan-elf did not do justice to his own disposition. You have in fact shown him off now, much more than he did himself."
"I am exceedingly gratified," said Rúmil, "by you converting what my friend said into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which Thranduil did not intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such circumstances I were to give a flat denial, and ride of as fast as I could."
"Would Lord Greenleaf than forgive the rashness of your original intentions, by your refusal to follow through on them?"
"Upon my word," cried the confounded elf, "I cannot explain the matter, Thranduil must speak for himself."
"You expect me," drawled the Sindar, "to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged?" he challenged the dwarf. Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Master Dwarf, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plans, has merely desired it, asked it without offering a single argument in its favour."
"To yield readily – easily – to the persuasion of a friend has no merit with you?" asked the dwarf.
"To yield without conviction is no compliment to either party."
After a moment of silent contemplation Thorin addressed him with some reserve. "It appears to me, Lord Greenleaf, that you allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. In ordinary cases between two friends, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great consequence, should you think ill of that creature for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"
"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance of this request; as well as the degree of intimacy between the parties?" The elf sat down his quill and turned his full attention on the dwarf.
"By all means," cried Rúmil; "let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting the comparative height and size of the individuals. I'm sure that will add more weight to your argument. I assure you Thorin, that if Thranduil were not such a great, tall elf, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful commodity than Thranduil, for his bulk is particularly intimidating, on particular occasions and in particular places; in Mirkwood especially, and in the evenings when he has nothing better to do, but stare down his subjects from the top of his antlered throne."
Thranduil smiled; but Thorin thought he could perceive that the elf was rather offended; and therefore checked his laugh, eventually. Haldir warmly resented the indignity his friend received, in reprimanding his brother for talking such nonsense.
"I see your design, Rúmil," said his friend. "You dislike an argument, and want to silence me."
"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Thorin will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me."
"What you ask," said Thorin, and smiled apologetically at Rúmil, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Lord Greenleaf had much better finish his letter."
Thranduil took his advice, and did finish his letter.
When that business was over, he applied to Haldir and Thorin for the indulgence of some music. Haldir moved with alacrity to the harp, and after a polite request that Thorin should sing, which the other as politely but more firmly denied, he seated himself.
Orophin sang with his brother, and while they were thus employed Thorin could not help observing over his craftsmanship, how frequently Thranduil's eyes were fixed on him. He felt overwhelmed at being an object of admiration of so great a creature; and yet that he should look at him because he disliked him was somewhat satisfactory. He could only imagine that he drew his notice because there was something about him more wrong and reprehensible, according to his idea of right, than in any other creature in the room. Thorin smirked. He liked him to little, beyond his own amusement, to care of his approval.
After playing some historical songs of the First Age, Haldir varied the charm with a lively elven courting song; and soon afterwards Thranduil, drawing near Thorin, said to him – "Do not you feel a great inclination, Master Dwarf, to seize such an opportunity for a dance?"
He smiled, but made no answer. The elf repeated the question, with some surprise at his silence.
"Oh!" said the dwarf, "I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say yes, that you might have the pleasure of despising my skills and remarking on the disadvantage of my height," Thranduil looked ready to disagree, but Thorin cut in with an easy laugh to show he took no offense. "But I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell you, that I don't want to dance with you at all – and now despise me if you dare," smirked the dwarf, without tearing his eyes of his ironwork.
"Indeed I do not dare," replied Thranduil at length.
Thorin, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of humor and archness in his manner, which made it difficult for him to affront anybody; and Thranduil had never been so bewitched by any creature as he was by him. He really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of his kin, he would be in some danger.
Haldir saw, or suspected enough to be jealous; and his great anxiety for the recovery of his dear friend Frerin, received some assistance from his desire of getting rid of Thorin.
He often tried to provoke Thranduil into disliking the dwarf, by talking of their supposed marriage, and planning his happiness in such an alliance.
"I hope," said he, as they were walking together in the shrubbery the next day, "you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue; and if you can compass it, do cure the younger dwarrows of running after the archers. And, if I may mention so delicate a subject, endeavor to check that little something, bordering on conceit and impertinence, which your intended posses."
"Have you anything else to propose for my domestic felicity?" asked the elf in complete dispassion, struggling to suppress his ill humor.
"Oh! yes. Do let the portraits of your uncle Dwalin and his wife; be placed in the gallery at Eryn Lasgalen. Put them next to your uncle Beleg the warrior. They are in the same profession, you know: only in different lines. As for your Thorin's picture, you must not attempt to have it taken, for what painter could do justice to those beautiful eyes?"
"It would not be easy, indeed, to catch their expression, but their colour and shape, and the eyelashes, so remarkably fine, might be copied."
At that moment they were met from another walk, by Orophin and Thorin himself.
"I did not know that you intended to walk," said Haldir, in some confusion, least they had been overheard.
"You did a terrible thing," answered Orophin, "in running away without telling us that you were coming out."
Then taking the disengaged arm of Thranduil, he left Thorin to walk by himself. The path just admitted three. Thranduil felt the rudeness and immediately said; "This walk is not wide enough for our party. We had better go into the avenue."
But Thorin, who had not the least inclination to remain with them, laughingly answered, "No, no; stay where you are. You are charmingly grouped, and appear to uncommon advantage. The picturesque would be spoilt by admitting a" dwarf, "fourth. Goodbye."
He then walked away at a brisk pace, rejoicing in thoughts of being at home again in a day or two. Frerin was already so much recovered as to intend leaving his room for a couple of hours that evening.
R&R