Chapter Eleven: The Talk
"The horror of it all!" Gimli despairs, slapping his palm against his brow. "We are to see…Thranduil! How can this unforgivable luck befallen upon us!"

"It is King Thranduil for you, Gimli," Legolas points out, eyeing the Dwarf as they walk to the King's room.

"I beg to differ," the Dwarf says. "He is not my King. He is King for the Elves here. Not for the Dwarves."

Legolas gives out a small sigh and shakes his head. "At least give my father some respect. He invited you in with open arms, Master Dwarf."

Gimli harrumphs.


"Knock!" Legolas hisses, shoving the Dwarf towards the door.

"What?! Why do I have to knock? You are the King's son. You should have the honor to knock on the kingly door of your father's."

Seeing that the situation is helpless, Legolas knocks timidly on the grand wooden door. The two wait for a reply, shooting lasers at each other. "That was such an easy thing I asked you to do!" the Prince whispers at Gimli. "You cannot even do one favor of mine."

"Not like you ever did one of mine, you Elf."

"It's-" Legolas starts, but is cut off when the deep resonating sound of the King's voice comes through the door.

"Come in," comes the voice of Thranduil. They stumble into the room, Gimli glaring up at the Elf for tripping him while coming in. How improper!

"Father," the Prince says, bowing respectfully to the King.

"Your Majesty," the Dwarf says sarcastically, not even bothering to bow before this Elf who imprisoned his own father.

Seating themselves carefully, Legolas and Gimli face the King. "Father," the Prince starts, "what is it that you have wanted to talk about with Gimli and I?"

"I just wanted to know how my son," and turns his angular face to the Dwarf, "and his little friend were doing in Mirkwood. I have already heard that a disturbance was made. The spiders were awoken once again." That last part is mostly aimed at Gimli who flicks the remark away as if it were a piece of dust.

"That was not my fault," Gimli mutters to himself.

"Pardon me, but what was that?" Thranduil asks, his sharp ears catching that remark easily. "Did you say that it was not your fault? I do not think that you have quite understood the situation, Gimli son of Gloín. The spiders have been roused because of your careless mistakes."

Gimli snarls, "A mistake is you wearing hideous dead twigs upon your head. That is a grave mistake that you have made, King Thranduil."

The King's pale face flushes with color and he says through gritted teeth, "I take your opinion as a beneficial factor to improve my image as the King of Mirkwood of Middle Earth."

The Prince looks at the Dwarf beside him with a newfound horror and awe in his eyes. Gimli, it will be best if you do not make my father your new enemy Legolas warns his friend telepathically, hoping that he receives the message one way or another.

Unfortunately, he did not. "You won't be ruling for long. You're probably reaching old age in Elf version. So then you'll have to hand down the throne to your son, Legolas."

"That will not happen until a few more centuries have past, my dear Dwarf," Thranduil says icily, giving Gimli a cool smile frosted with ice. Then he says abruptly, "Ah, my son. You have not uttered a single word since the Dwarf and I started talking," and turning to look at his son.

Clearing his throat, Legolas takes the time to probe for a eligible reply to that. "I just wanted to see how you and my friend will consider each other, Father," he finally speaks, hoping that is the correct answer.

"How considerate of you," the King says. "I have raised you well."

"If by raising well you mean locking them up in the dungeon and stuffing them with cotton in their mouths, yes, you're right," Gimli murmurs, no one hearing him but the Prince this time.

The Prince stiffens and gives a side-long glance of caution to the Dwarf, who actually nods his head.

There's a sudden knock that brings the two companions to their feet and on sudden alert. "King Thranduil, I have some urgent news!" comes a squeaky voice. Gimli instantly knows that it's Pyleaum.

"Urgent?" the King says curiously, ironically looking at his son to how he should proceed. "Come in."

Pyleaum bursts into the room and shouts on the top of his lungs, "WHAT DID THE OCEAN SAY TO THE OTHER OCEAN?"

King Thranduil takes a sharp intake of breath from the shrill shout. He massages his temples with his fingers for awhile and then points out blatantly, "Oceans cannot speak, small child."

"That's the point. So what did they say?"

Gimli lets out a small chuckle, and Legolas visibly pales. This small child is disrespecting his father. Not even addressing him as 'King Thranduil' or 'Your Majesty.'

"I have no time for your fun and games, child."

"Please?" Pyleaum begs, clasping his hands together and looks at the King like an angel would.

"I do not know. What did they say?"

"They waved!"

"They…waved?"

"Yes! Don't you get it?"

The Elven King looks genuinely perplexed. He thinks too deeply about it and makes himself even more entangled than he has to be. "I do not understand. Please leave as I think about this situation."

"You must be losing your memory because of old age, King. I could see wrinkles on your face now. Maybe you should hand over the throne to the Prince," the child suggests, not giving a care on Middle Earth that he just insulted his own King.

"No," Thranduil bluntly says. "Get out."

Pyleaum quickly runs out of the room, slamming the door behind him – slam! – startling the three occupants in the room.

"Father," the Prince hesitantly says, looking at his father through his warm brown eyes, "do you seriously do not understand the joke?"

"That was a joke?"

"Yes."

"Well, let me think about that. It must take some time to decipher such a message."

"It doesn't even take a piece of leaf to know what that joke was meant to mean!" Gimli mocks the King, a hearty laugh escaping his lips. "Legolas, let us go so that the King may 'decipher' the enigmatic message."

"We will leave now, Father," the Prince excuses himself, the two friends exiting the room. Being a good few feet away from the King's door they burst into an unstoppable laughter.

"How dense can the King be?" Gimli gasps out through his laughter. "How did he become the king in the first place? He does not even understand a child's amusement of hilarity!"

"I must certainly must agree to that!"

As they walk they decide to go outside to take a walk through Mirkwood as their mirthful laughter keeps ringing together like harmonious bells.


Finally. I had no idea what to do in this chapter. Grah.
A warning for my readers. Once school starts the updates may be quite sporadic. That does not bother anyone, correct? Correct. (I hope.)
-A.