A/N: Sorry guys, obviously my hiatus has been slightly extended *guilty look. Now that I'm back, I'll try to return to my old routine of updating every day or second day :) Please R&R so I know their's still interest in this story after my epic hibernation lol :P


When the elves removed after dinner, Thorin ran up to his brother, and seeing him well guarded from the cold, attended him into the drawing room; where he was welcomed by his two friends with many professions of pleasure; and Thorin had never seen them so agreeable as they were during the hour. Their powers of conversation were considerable. They could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humor, and laugh at their antics with spirit.

But when Thranduil entered with Rúmil, Frerin was no longer their first object. Haldir's eyes were instantly turned towards Lord Greenleaf, and he had something to say to him before he had advanced many steps. He, however, bypassed Haldir in favor of addressing himself directly to Frerin, with a polite congratulation; but diffuseness and warmth remained for Rúmil's salutations. He was full of joy and attention. The first half-hour was spent in piling up the fire; least he should suffer from a change of room; and after many protests of "dwarf's are made of sterner stuff" and "I assure you Lord Silvan-elf, if we can live in the damp rock under a mountain, we can withstand a slight change in atmosphere,"; he removed at his desire to the other side of the fireplace, that he might be farther from the door. The elf then sat by him, and talked scarcely to anyone else. Thorin, at work in the opposite corner, saw it all with great delight.

When tea was over, Elladan reminded his brother-in-law of the kard-table – but in vain. He had obtained private intelligence that Thranduil did not wish to play; and Elladan soon found even his open petition rejected. Orophin assured his husband that no one intended to play, and the silence of the whole party on the subject, seemed to justify him. Elladan had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the sofas, with his head laid across his husbands lap, and go to sleep; Orophin's gentle fingers carding through his hair, and lulling him into slumber. Thranduil took up a book; Haldir did the same; and Orophin sang gently under his breath, occasionally breaking away to join in now and again in his brother's conversation with Frerin.

Haldir's attention was quite as much engaged in watching Thranduil's progress through his book, as in reading his own; and he was perpetually either making some inquiry, or looking at his page. He could not win him, however, to any conversation; he merely answered the Silvan elf's question, and read on. At length, quite exhausted by the attempt to be amused with his own book, which he had only chosen because it was the second volume of Thranduil's; he gave a great yawn and said, "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! – When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library."

No one made any reply. He then yawned again, threw aside his book, and cast his eyes around the room in quest of some amusement; when hearing his brother mentioning a ball to Frerin, he turned suddenly towards him and said, "By the by, Rúmil, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Lórien? – I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I would be much mistaken if there are not at least some amongst us for whom a dance would be rather a punishment than a pleasure."

"If you mean Thranduil," cried his brother, "he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins – but as for the merriment, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as the bargeman returns with full barrels of wine I shall send round my cards."

"I shall like festivities infinitely better," Haldir replied, "if they were carried out in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a gathering. It would surely be more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day."

"Much more rational, my dear brother, I dare say," laughed Rúmil, "but it would not be near so much like a ball."

Haldir made no answer; and soon afterwards got up and walked about the room. His figure was elegant, and he walked well – but Thranduil, at whom this was all aimed, was still inflexibly studious. In desperation of his feelings he resolved on one last effort, and, turning to Thorin, said, "My dwarf friend, might I persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn around the room." Thorin watched him like he thought the elf might be slightly touched in the head. Haldir, not to be deterred, smiled charmingly and continued, "Is it not common among dwarf's to take a refreshing stroll after sitting about in one attitude for an extended while? I assure you it is a healthy practice among elves."

Thorin was disgruntled from being disrupted from his work, but wanting to remain civil with the elves, which in all likelihood might very soon become family, he agreed. Haldir succeeded no less in the real object of his civility; Thranduil looked up. He was as much awake to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Thorin himself could be, and unconsciously closed his book. Haldir promptly invited him to join the party, but he declined it, observing, that he could imagine but two motives for their choosing to walk up and down the room together, with either of which motives his joining would interfere. "What could he mean?" Haldir was dying to know what could be his meaning – and asked Thorin whether he could at all understand him. Thorin, at this point, was beyond fed up.

"Not at all," was his curt reply, "but depend upon it, he means to be sever on us, and our surest way to disappoint him, will be to ask nothing about it." Across the room he could see Thranduil smirk. Haldir, however, was incapable of disappointing Thranduil in anything, and persevered therefore in requiring an explanation of his two motives.

"I have not the smallest objection to explaining them," said he, as soon as he was allowed to speak. "You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that a body appears to its greatest advantage in walking – if the first, I should be completely in your way – and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."

"Oh! Shocking!" cried Haldir, with ill suppressed glee. "I never heard anything so abominable." He turned toward Thorin; whose eyes were wrinkled with suppressed laughter, and asked "How shall we punish him for such a speech?'

"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," said the dwarf, once he was sure he would not release his mirth, "We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him – laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."

"But upon my honor I do not!" protested Haldir. "I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, no – I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please," he chided, "by attempting to laugh without a subject."

"Lord Greenleaf is not to be laughed at?!" cried Thorin in mock outrage. "That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances, for I dearly love to laugh!"

"Haldir," said Thranduil, "has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of beings, nay, the wisest and the best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."

"Certainly," replied Thorin – "there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I certainly never intentionally ridicule what I consider to be wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without," teased the dwarf with a throaty chuckle, one that grew in volume at the affronted look playing dangerously on the elf's face.

"Perhaps that is not possible for anyone," Thranduil replied coolly, "But it has been the study of my life to avoid these weaknesses, which often expose a strong motive for ridicule."

"Such as vanity and pride," offered Thorin, with a wicked smirk.

"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed," conceded the elf, reclining into his chair and allowing the mask of indifference to cloak his face. "But pride – where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."

Thorin turned away to hide a scowl.

"Your examination of Thranduil is over, I presume," said Haldir – "and may I ask what is your verdict?"

"I am perfectly convinced by it that Lord Greenleaf has no defect," replied Thorin, allowing but a slight note of sarcasm to taint his tone. "He owns it himself without disguise."

"No" – snapped Thranduil, spinning his head to face Thorin, "I have made no such pretension. I have fault enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is I believe to little yielding – certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost for ever." He finished his self-assessment with a challenging look at Thorin, who simply smiled and turned away to study a shelf of books.

"That," he spoke at length, feeling the heated gaze of the elf, "is a failing indeed. Implacable resentment is a dark shade in a character of any creature." Selecting a novel he turned and met the elf's pale eyes. "But you have chosen your fault well, I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me."

This proclamation seemed to ease the tension in the elf, and he simply meditated a while. "There is, I believe" he finally spoke, "in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."

"And your defect is a propensity to hate everybody," said Thorin, not taking his eyes of the book.

"And yours," replied the elf with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them."

"Do let us have some music," cried Haldir, tired of a conversation in which he had no share. "Orophin, you would not mind me waking up Elladan?" His brother made not the smallest objection, and the harp was brought out. Thranduil, after a few moments recollection, was sincerely grateful for it. He had begun to feel the danger of paying Thorin too much attention.


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