Guys this chapter was going to be the death of me...it was actually seven pages longer but I cut off a bit earlier for the sake of making the chapter manageable. I also have typed and retyped it, and ooooo I just hope it meets every-bodies expectations?
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Jess: Clanduil it is then :) Or if you have any better suggestions please do let me know :D Thank you for the review I'm so glad you enjoyed the chapter
Lala: Thank you so much! And I did make it through barely lol. You like how things are heating up between our pair...well it just might sky rocket in the next chapter. I feel I should put up the rating :S Anyway I really hope you enjoy the update and as always I really love reading your reviews :D
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Right so who is ready to see Ithril get bitch slapped big time? Me I am I am!
Chapter 13
"Alright Clara, try that again…and with less attitude please!"
With a sigh I attempt to "float," as Gilron puts it up a flight of stone steps, in a gown that has more bloody layers than an onion! It has a cinched waist, which is apparently to make me aware of my posture, but in actually fact just cuts my lung capacity in half. It has a train, a train that is so stupidly long I keep stepping back and getting all twisted up in it! And shoes! With heels! I have been barefoot for months in this place, and at a push I wear boots, so why are heels introduced now? I never wore heels as a human because of the obvious deficit I had in co-ordination and motor skills, and mostly because I look awkward in said heels. As an elf I have better control of my balance, but I still look awkward as sin in heels, it appears here too you must acquire the ability to walk like a runway model, and no, apparently it is not something you are born with.
For the past fortnight in the run up to the feast I have been living and breathing everything Gilron says and does. She is my spiritual leader, my guru, my Yoda and my fairy godmother, but she is also a tyrant, and so strict and oh my poor hurting toes and mangled waist. I have been working my socks off, metaphorical socks of course if I actually had socks my feet would not be so crippled, to get this elf thing locked down. I have come to the conclusion that I may actually love Thranduil, and this scares me, mostly because of the overwhelming desire I have to be the elleth he needs. However I am absolutely certain I adore Legolas, he is my whole life, and I will not let him down! I will be the role model he needs to help him grow and develop, he needs an elleth capable of guiding him, and I sure as hell cannot be that if I can't live up to the standards of his society! I also am determined that, that she bitch, keeps her corrupted and dirty paws off my little ray of sunshine! Legolas will not grow up with that haughty attitude, he will not be that elf, Ithril will not have that hold over this family!
"Clara daydreaming is a lovely trait of yours, but not when you are working, up those stairs you go! Come now we almost have it!"
Gilron snaps me out of my dark thoughts and I square my shoulders and attempt my Everest. I am supposed to float up the stairs, take a seat on the garden chair come pretend throne and descend again. Not that I will be sitting on thrones, I just added that in there for the fun, well I had to learn to sit down properly and pretending I was Queen of the castle was helping spur me on. If Legolas was here he would be thoroughly enjoying himself, but alas he isn't and I kind of regret that. I need to keep this quiet though, I don't want Thranduil or Legolas knowing for a second, I am doing this for me, for my confidence and my self-worth.
"Clara!"
"Oh alright!" I jump and set my finely shod foot on the stone step of Gilron's split level pavilion, this is her garden and close to the surface of the caves.
"Attitude my darling, it is fine with us but will not be tolerated in regal circles," she replies with a gentle smile. I cannot hate her even if I tried.
"I'm sorry," I grumble, "Right here I go!"
"How about that attitude will not be tolerated by us or in regal circles?" Aradan pipes up from his stretched out position on the grassy bed of the garden, he is sunbathing or well just enjoying the bright light that pours into large garden from the mouth of the cave.
"Why are you even here?" I snipe and he lifts his head to smirk at me.
"Because I enjoy entertainment and you are very entertaining!"
"Ollie!" I roar and she scuttles from the kitchen holding a teapot and eyes me questioningly. "Do something with him!"
"Clara focus!" Gilron replies and rubs her temples in frustration.
"Aradan please be more thoughtful!" Oliel mutters and begins pouring everyone some tea, "You are only here to serve as Clara's dance partner, any more bad behaviour and I shall ask you to leave!"
"You would not!" he gasps and lops across the garden to retrieve his tea, as Gilron motions me to continue my incline.
"I would too!" Oliel confirms with a giggle and I smile smugly, yes we all know there is something blossoming between the pair and I totally deserve all the credit for making that happen.
I successfully reach the top of the stairs, do that silly little curtsey thing to the pretend guests and take my seat. I smile broadly at Gilron's approving applaud and then scowl when I find Oliel and Aradan not one bit interested, as he feeds her a slice of cake. Dammit what do I have to do around here to get noticed!
"Oh for the love of the gods, get a room!" I snipe and haughtily cross my left leg over my right to swing it in an irritated fashion. "Gilron, how do you stomach being around them all day?"
"Ah tis love," Gilron adds with a glint of joy in her starlight eyes and I grin back knowingly. Honestly I am ecstatic, they are my best friends, they know all my jibes are just for fun and they particularly enjoy goading reactions from me. I am envious they get to be so public with their affections, I can only dream of that with Thranduil.
"Right I am famished," I say and stand elegantly to my feet, which receives an approving nod from Gilron, and begin descending the rock steps.
I am doing really well, I think my brain has eventually clicked, Thranduil was right the mental block is in my head. I can do this, I am a graceful creature of power and beauty, and this damn dress is going to kill me! I catch the heel on the trailing hems and feel the fabric slip, my foot goes from below me and I throw my arms out to catch myself. With a rather loud yelp I fall with a thump on my ass, with layers of fabric everywhere! I slide down four steps before I come to halt and manage to gain some sort of balance. After a moment of recovery I launch back up on to my feet, and smooth out my dress and hair. With a resolute nod I glance to my now silent onlookers;
"Well that got your attention!" I huff and throw my head in the air as I strut down the rest of the steps; "And by the by I totally meant to do that!"
It is Aradan that kinks up first, but mercifully Oliel shoves the rest of the slice of cake in his mouth to shut him up. She is trying hard to hold back her own fit of laughter as is Gilron, and frankly their attempt to remain silent is pitiful as within a minute they all erupt into giggles at my expense.
"Oh it's useless!" I groan as I slump down on a free garden seat, and drop my head into my lap. "I will never be a lady!"
"You are a lady," Gilron corrects and I feel her firm hands around my shoulders as she yanks me upright; "And ladies do not slouch."
"We have been at this for a fortnight, the feast is tomorrow night and I still trip on my frock!" I grumble and sip my tea.
"Well elegance takes time, everyone struggles with it. It takes millennia to perfect trust me I know," She responds softly and comfortingly squeezes my shoulders. "It is the attitude and the way you engage with others that makes you a lady."
"Oh well then we may just give up now!" Aradan mumbles through a particularly large bite of cake, and receives yet another slap from Oliel and scowl from Gilron; "I am just jesting, you are all so sensitive!"
"Do not listen to him Clara!" Oliel replies and comes to kneel by me; "You are the brightest most loving elleth I know, you are a lady!"
"I would not say those things about myself," I sulk into my teacup.
"But you are," Gilron interjects before Oliel can have her say; "There is something very unique about you Clara, you shine light into dark places. A home that was once a silent and painful place is full of joy and laughter again, you did that child and that is more the sign of a noble elleth, than how she can walk in yards of silk."
"Exactly!" Oliel confirms, "Which means Ithril just wishes she was as stunning as you."
I blush violently and duck behind my cup; "I really hope you guys are right about this, because I have no more time left."
"We still have tonight!" Gilron responds, "and tomorrow we dedicate to dressing."
"Oh that sounds terrifying," I gulp as a look is passed between Mother and daughter that alerts me to their evil plans.
"Nonsense!" Gilron laughs and bounds to her feet, holding out her hand I graciously accept it and allow her to bring me to standing; "Very elegant Clara, now time for dancing, Aradan if you will?"
Aradan groans and shoots me a warning look; "I have broken toes because of this Clara, I hope you appreciate my sacrifice!"
"Well Thranduil never complains when we dance," I snort as he takes me by the hand in a courtly fashion; "Besides it is these stupid dresses, I can't see my feet and I sure as hell can't see yours!"
"Oh sure blame the dress, and Thranduil does not complain because Clara that is not courtly dancing! That is as close to a lover's exchange as dancing gets!" He laughs and waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
"And how do you know I am referring to that one dance, for all you know Thranduil and I dance all the time," I reply and engage in a complicated quick step but to my glee I master it effortlessly.
"Dancing? Is that what you young things are calling it nowadays?"
"Aradan! Seriously get your mind out of the gutter!"
"So there is no dancing? I knew it, honestly what do you two do all night, talk over cheese boards and wine? I swear I am going to need to draw him diagrams, this is getting boring!"
I purposely misjudge a step and plant my heel in his toe; he lets out a yell and glares at me in disbelief;
"What was that for?" he cries and stares at me with betrayed eyes.
"I am a lady, making inappropriate remarks about my private life is vile and degrading! That good sir was to teach you a lesson in manners!" I say in my best courtly voice, with a flick of my hair I reset our steps and await his compliance.
"Well done Clara," Gilron claps cheerily, "And that my boy is why you should never hassle a lady."
"Bravo Clara!" Oliel enthuses and I grin triumphantly at them both.
"Ollie! You are supposed to take my side," Aradan whines and then glares at me again.
"I do not take the side of scoundrels!" She replies airily and disappears back into her Mother's home with the dishes.
"Oh I guess you are not quite the charmer either my friend!" I say and lift my chin defiantly.
"Oh shut up!" he grumbles and I burst into a fit of giggles.
"Right back to formation, this is your last chance Clara and you are doing wonderfully!" Gilron instructs in her no messing about tone.
So with that we go back to our dancing lessons, and we dance until I cannot take another step. It is good and I think I have succeeded in remembering all the stately dances, I may not be super awesome at them but I can execute without trips or toe crunching. Aradan and I soon make up, and are back to bantering with one another with ease. He tells me later that I have nothing to fear, he cannot fathom how any elf could dislike me. He calls me endearing and proclaims that I shall be victorious at the feast, he predicts by the end of the night everyone will know who I am. Gilron is positive too and Oliel, who is more preoccupied with reigning fire down upon Ithril. Ollie thinks when the feast comes she will eat her words and never be able to look me in the eye again. I doubt this is the case but I appreciate all their encouragement. I only want to impress one elf, and that is the King, if I can gain his approval then maybe he'll not be against the idea of Thranduil and me. There is very little I can do now, I love him so much it scares me, the very thought of not being with him fills me with dread. So I have to earn my place, and make them notice me. This is my one shot and I have to make it count!
xXx
My feet are burning when I eventually get back home, and my mind is far too active to allow me to rest. I am too nervous to eat and unfortunately it is late and Legolas is fast asleep, his father filling in for the caring duties to allow me an evening off. So with no way of distracting myself and with insecurities knawing at my mind, I raid one of the libraries of historical texts on Greenwood and go sit by my favourite fountain.
The cool water is too inviting and I pull up the hems of my silken chemise night dress and dip my chapped, throbbing feet in the water. I groan in relief and wrap the woollen blanket tighter around my shoulders, settling down to absorb as much as I can about my home. Gilron tells me I must read something new every day, history archives are a good place to start, but it is hard to find writings that are translated from elvish to Westron. There are some, and it has been a useful tool in teaching me to read Sindarin, but it is a tedious task and often I give myself terrible tension headaches over it all. Still I will not be beaten I have to do this, I don't have a choice, if I want this second chance then I have to fight for it!
So this is where I sit until the lines of the text blur together, until I cannot sit up straight any longer and my body caves in exhaustion. It has been a very long two weeks and in some ways a very speedy fortnight. I don't dwell on Ithril's cutting words they are just that, words, I don't fear her but it has shaken me up a little bit. I have avoided Thranduil as best I can, which has not been that hard considering he is always in some sort of meeting or discussion with his father. I guess I don't want him to recognise the uncertainty in my eyes when I question myself, sometimes I just lie awake and make myself sick at the thought of what I have done. I have fallen in love with someone completely out of my reach; I barely have the skills to be a lady but a Princess? To actually be responsible for a race of people? The thought is enough to push me over the edge! I will come to terms with it; I just have to man up or elf up or whatever it is, and take responsibility for my actions. Seriously why couldn't Thranduil have been a farmer or something, our life would have been so much easier with none of these crazy responsibilities.
"Oh Clara stop thinking," I groan and scrub my face with my hands, as if I can wipe away the exhaustion. I try and tell myself that Thranduil has never actually commented on our future so realistically I have nothing to worry about. However this thought brings with it an avalanche of new worrisome questions which I refuse to dissect for the sake of my mental stability. I lie down on the stone ledge of the fountain and try to clear my mind, attempting to find peace in the trickling water and the quietness of night.
I must lose consciousness after a few hours because when I eventually come too, it is because someone is hauling me off the ledge of the fountain, and I am freezing. I startle and drowsily attempt to sit upright, blinking against the tiredness of my vision;
"Clara you are deathly cold," a concerned voice that warms my heart asks, "What are you doing out here, look at you? You are exhausted!"
"I'm fine, stop fussing," I mumble and try to amble to my feet, but I sway and Thranduil catches me with ease; "Well okay maybe I am a little tired."
I blink up at him and smile sheepishly; he frowns and shakes his head, worry creasing his brow. Resting me against ledge he shrugs off his robe and bundles me up tightly in it before scooping me into his arms as if I weigh less than a bag of grain. I don't say anything because I am just too relived to feel heat, and snuggle into his chest, all prior worries momentarily forgotten. He carries me back through the halls and to my bed, where I really should have been hours ago. I do suppose great big under eye bags, and dry tired skin is not exactly the look of a lady either?
Thranduil clambers onto to my bed to rest me easily on it, attempting to limit any unnecessary jostling and lets his hands glide to my feet, which are now like ice. He settles himself at the foot of the bed and takes it in turns to clasp his inferno hands around my dead feet, warming them slowly. This is nice, and for the longest time I just enjoy the sensation of it;
"Clara what is wrong with your feet?" He asks and gently rubs the painful scratched toes, making me wince slightly.
"Breaking in heels," I mutter groggily, "I don't usually wear shoes and I have been getting used to the idea in time for this feast."
"By what? Dancing on glass?" He jokes half-heartedly, "It is just a party, it is not worth causing yourself pain over!"
"Ah you are so naive," I laugh softly and peek at him; "Do you not know appearance is everything!"
"I live by that motto," he smirks but nods in understanding, and before I can protest he grips my left foot tightly and places a ticklish kiss there.
"Ugh what are you doing that is vile," I laugh and attempt to wiggle my foot free, "don't kiss my feet please!"
"I will kiss whatever part of you I wish," he threatens and slinks up the bed towards me, placing playful kisses on my knees, my belly, my arms and all the way up to my face, which he covers in ticklish kisses that make me giggle.
"You are incorrigible!" I gasp as he locks his arms around my waist and pulls me close to him, so that my back is flush to his body. His gloriously warm body, oh I am so cold and so sleepy that this is heaven.
"Mmm I do as I please," he murmurs in my ear, in that gravelly voice that makes me shudder; "Hush Clara go to sleep you are weary."
"Only if you stay with me," I yawn and fold my hands over his, where they are locked around my waist.
"I will always stay with you," he whispers back and grazes my shoulder with his lips. That is all I recall before I slip into a peaceful nothingness.
xXx
The morning comes all too fast and I am perplexed when I awake to find Thranduil gone. I wonder if I just dreamed up our little rendezvous last night, but when I exit my room fully dressed and looking near enough alive, I nearly trip over a box at the door. Trying my best to not curse, as per lady etiquette, I crouch down and lift the lid of the box. A single piece of parchment rests atop folded silk and I curiously examine it. I slowly unfold it and let out a soft laugh at the familiar script;
'Fine slippers are worn by Queens and courtly ladies alike!
They are much better for dancing in, and softer on fairer feet.'
I barely contain my excitement as I unfold the pale lilac silk to expose the most wonderful pair of beaded slippers I have laid eyes on. They are white and made of the softest silks and satins. Intricately designed with crystal beads and tiny pearls, they look like something sleeping beauty would have worn. The craftsmanship of elves never ceases to amaze me. As gently as I can I slip the shoes on my poor scarred feet, oh it is like slipping on silken gloves, and stand to my feet. I talk a few tentative steps and sigh with relief, it is like walking on clouds, soft fluffy clouds, I don't care what Gilron says I am wearing these tonight!
I hear Oliel approach and spin in the hallway to grin excitedly at her. She stops and cocks her head to the side questioning, she forms her lips to ask the question but I speak before she can;
"He gave me shoes!" I coo only making Oliel's brow furrow further in confusion. I pick up the hems of my skirt and point my finely shod toes more elegantly towards her; "Lovely, heaven sent shoes for my aching toes."
I twirl in a circle and attempt a few dance steps; Oliel giggles in understanding and shakes her head fondly. I stop and give another appreciate squeak of glee;
"Shoes!" I say again because I am literally so happy; "Shoes that I can wear and not fall down in!"
"Yes I see that," she just about manages to speak, as I squeak again and complete another celebratory dance.
I stop for a moment and sigh happily, eyeing Oliel with a starry eyed look I add with much feeling;
"Ollie I do believe I love him!"
xXx
"Clara stop fidgeting child!"
"I can't help it, it's so itchy!"
"I cannot fathom how it is itchy?"
"I hate my hair tied so tightly, it makes my scalp scratchy."
"Patience and I will loosen the knots shortly!"
Gilron runs her fine fingers through the tight twists of my hair held in place by twisted rags, supposedly this is to extenuate my natural wave; personally I just want to rip them out and scratch my scalp senseless. It is getting late and I am starting to panic if I will ever be ready in time, though Gilron seems unphased by mews of concern.
I rushed through the morning tasks, and left Legolas to the care of his Grandfather, who insisted on it. Thranduil as far as I knew was sulking, or that was how Oropher put it. I know he isn't sulking, I know he has locked himself in his room and is having an out and out anxiety attack! He doesn't want to be presented to his father's court so soon, he doesn't want questions or curious looks, and he certainly does not want the pressure of having to perform. He has made no secret of this to me, but I am used to the closed off and reclusive Thranduil, however it is becoming increasingly obvious Oropher is not. I am coming to the conclusion that the crux of their strained relationship is due to the fact that Thranduil has changed, and my mind is automatically drawn to the night I first perceived the prince. Injuries so grotesque that he was barely discernable as an elf let alone a man. Lord Elrond's words that night may have been somewhat truthful, Thranduil would not be the Adar Legolas remembered, but I now have the distinct impression the renowned healer was attempting to prepare Oropher that his son would not be the same again.
I sigh absently and wonder what Thranduil was like before I arrived here? Would I have even liked him or would he have even noticed me? Maybe the likes of Ithril would have appealed to him before; maybe Oropher is trying to force his son back into his old life in a vain attempt to help him? I suddenly realise the past several months must have been so utterly devastating for Oropher; alone and without another soul to turn to he was left to try and salvage the pieces of his family, with his wife gone only a few decades previously he must have felt completely isolated! I see the King in a new light and immediately decide that he deserves great respect, maybe even a little acknowledgment for his struggles. I vow to remind Thranduil of this next time he has a grumble about his Father, he is doing his best and Thranduil has the tendency to be very uncooperative.
"Are you quite finished arguing with yourself my dear?" Gilron asks with a smirk, and mercifully begins untying the tight rags in my hair.
"Huh?" I mumble and lock eyes with her through her reflection in the large mirror I am seated in front of.
"Whoever you are sternly reprimanding better watch out," she replies with a soft laugh and eyes me knowingly; "Ellyn are difficult creatures it takes centuries for them to learn anything."
I laugh so hard I can barely splutter out my question; "Was it that obvious?"
"My dear I have been married so long that I cannot even begin to count the years, so I know a peeved look when I see it! Tell me the sweet Clara, what has that rascal of a prince done to irk you so?" Gilron smiles fondly and her eyes are faraway for a moment. I did eventually confide in Gilron about Thranduil and she was extremely supportive, but she also told me she had sussed out my feelings for him a long time ago.
"You speak of him like he is a child?" I point out and raise an eyebrow; "That little rascal is a grown ellon you know!"
"Ah but he will always be a youngster to me, as you all are!" She playfully pinches my cheek and makes me giggle. "You will understand when you have children of your own. Now come tell me?"
"I was just making a mental note to remind him to not be so hard on his Father," I say with a resolute nod; "I am lucky, I never met the Thranduil that existed before his attack, but I am starting to realise it may not be so easy for everyone else."
"You are an intuitive youngster Clara, a sure sign of one of noble birth," Gilron replies softly as she works diligently with my long locks; "Indeed it is hard for those of us that knew Thrandul before, but many things have changed him not just the horror of war, and not all of them bad."
"How do you mean?" I ask innocently, feeling much more relieved as more of my hair is loosened from the tight bands.
"Well fatherhood suits him, he is less immature and reckless now that he has a child of his own to care for," She muses and I nod in agreement; "but then there is you, and my dear I have not seen Thranduil this agreeable in decades, you young lady may have tamed the beast."
"Was he really that wild?" I swivel in the chair to eye Gilron questioningly.
"Oh he was a nightmare, he constantly tried his father's patience and his dear mother broke her heart over his recklessness!" She grips her chest in mock horror and stifles back a few stray chuckles; "Combat was his speciality, he was tireless and ferocious in his endeavours to carve out a name for himself. So fixated on making he and his people into legends, that he often lacked the good sense to be fearful. In a strange way that injury may have been a blessing, I think he now realises he is not indestructible."
"Oh dear he really was a handful," I mutter as I am forced to return to my original seated position facing the mirror. Gilron sighs and continues on her assessment as I listen intently;
"He was, but he was also joyful, entertaining and very charismatic. He loved being centre of attention as a child; he could hold the attention of an entire room from he was little more than a youth. That is why his reclusive behaviour worries us so; it was not in his nature to be so cautious and insecure."
I catch of glimmer of sadness in Gilron's eyes and I quickly interject in an attempt to lighten her mood; "He just needs time, besides he is not that cautious he jumped from a cliff, with me as his prisoner! Oh and we were very much the centre of attention at one of those youthful gatherings of the guards."
"Mmm so I heard," Gilron frowns teasingly and raises an eyebrow; "Not at all ladylike Clara."
"Oopps," I try my best innocent expression and this seems to work as she laughs heartily at my apology.
"You see my dear you are the very reason I have hope for our beloved Prince," she states with confidence and lets out the last of the twists. "Our home has never been so bright with a lady as vivacious as you."
"Well the vivacious part I like, but the lady part I am still doubtful over," I grumble, "After all with the likes of Lady Ithril at my table, I will surely pale in comparison to her effortless elegance!"
"You are worth ten of Lady Ithril, for she may have been fortunate in to which family she was born, but that does not make her a lady," Gilron reminds with a stern look; "I have told you before it is the person you are that makes you noble, you are judged by your deeds and your character not by who your parents are."
"Let us hope then I am of good character," I sigh sadly and watch Gilron grow ever more frustrated with me.
She sets down the soft bristle brush in her hands and comes to kneel in front of me. She takes my hand in hers and uses the other to cup my cheek, and with a soft voice but starkly contrasting serious eyes, she continues her teaching;
"Ithril is a fine elleth, there is no doubting that she can speak well, and carry herself with grace and dignity. She can command a room with a mere look; she can impress a King with good manners and stately charm. She may even be knowledgeable in all sorts of political matters and possess fine leadership qualities, but she lacks something important. For of all the gifts that she has, she has neither love nor kindness in her heart, and what are we if we have not love and compassion for others?"
I frown in confusion and Gilron laughs softly and squeezes my hand; "We are nothing without love in our hearts. So do not feel anger or resentment towards Ithril, pity her for she does not have what you do; a good and loving heart. Do not let her goad you into a temper or make you feel insignificant, instead show her kindness and good humour, be the example of a noble lady."
"How do you ever become so wise?" I ask in awe, with my mouth slightly ajar, it seems as though my fears have evaporated. With Gilron's unwavering belief in me I suddenly feel a twinge of confidence begin in my heart.
"By making many mistakes," Gilron smiles and stands fluidly to her feet again, taking the brush she finishes soothing out my new soft curls. She resumes to less weighted chat and I find comfort in the sweeping motions of the bristles on my hair. Tonight's feast does not seem so terribly daunting now.
xXx
"Remember no slouching, no talking with your mouthful, no over-eating, no over-consumption of wine, and for the love of the Valar do not ramble!"
"Agreed, to all of the above, but I don't know when I am rambling. I mean how do you know if you have talked to much or too little? No-one actually points out what is a socially acceptable amount of time to talk. And you know some people don't like awkward silences, so is it not polite to fill awkward silences? And also rambling constitutes as something you do when you run out of things to talk about, what happens if I genuinely am interested in the topic and have lots of things to say, is that still considered rambling?"
"Clara?"
"I'm rambling aren't I?"
"Yes!"
Oliel gives me a stern look, whilst I awkwardly hug myself in my nervousness. I will have to enter with the King and his entourage, escorted by Legolas of course, and I am a little queasy at the thought of everyone looking at me. I plan to just focus all my attention on my little prince, who I sincerely hope is going to be so incredibly cute no-one, will care about me. However Gilron and Oliel's fine work mean I am looking a zillion times better than I usually do.
Gilron dressed me in a lace and silk gown of ivories and ice blues; it is a proper noble dress, not like the fun and flirtatious ensembles from before. The silk underlay fits me like a second skin, draping across my shoulders and skimming my curves. The lace and tulle overlay gives the gown presence and movement, with the long trailing sleeves and pooling train. Along the slashed neckline and soft bodice are intricate patterns of pearl and gems, and they happily match my slippers, which Gilron reluctantly relents to let me wear. My now curled hair is pined back softly, but with small complex braids and tiny white flowers entwined in them.
"Stop fussing Oliel my dear she will be fine," Gilron comments as she strolls into my bedroom all business and bright smiles; "It seems your handsome Prince has arrived and he is very dapper indeed."
"Oh I am going to cry aren't I?" I giggle and clutch my heart, "All grown up and going to his first feast."
"He just melts my heart Clara he really does," Gilron giggles too but holds out her hand to stay me for a moment; "You are not quite ready yet." I frown in confusion as she ducks her hand into her robe and pulls out a square blue box. She opens it to reveal a fine silver circlet and I gasp in response when she holds it out to me;
"I can't wear this!" I splutter in shock at the very suggestion.
"Yes you can and you will," She replies forcefully as she fastens it to my brow; "Besides it is nothing I have several of these old things lying around, gathering dust from my glory days. Tis a shame to keep them in a box, they should be worn, and given purpose again."
I feel the light weight of the silver against my forehead and instantly feel ready for my task ahead. I glance in my mirror and am surprised by the reflection, the familiar vision of the wild haired and wide eyed elleth is replaced with what I can only describe as a lady. Straight and sure, impeccably put together and with a serene countenance, my how things have changed?
I don't dwell too much on my gradual transformation, and am quickly ushered out the door with excited chit chat and giggles. Oliel is just as stunning in her lavender gown, the soft blush colours a contrast to her mahogany mane and thick fluttery eyelashes, Aradan is a lucky elf tonight. Gilron has chosen to stay at home, she states she is too old to be out feasting half the night, and is simply looking forward to a quiet night with her beloved husband.
The three of us saunter out into the hallway that connects our chambers to the Kings and to my surprise I find not only Legolas but both his Grandfather and his father, and to my dismay Ithril, but I keep composure nonetheless and smile enthusiastically to all of them. Bowing gracefully for his Majesty, this gaining an approving nod from Gilron and I internally praise myself.
King Oropher is as always the picture of an arch angel, dressed in silver robes and brandishing a majestic oaken staff. On his brow he wears a slender crown with a white gem that at first glance could be mistaken as a star; he is every inch the Sindar lord. I can feel his power and his nobility but his feature are soft and welcoming, and I sense the essence of his nature; fair and kind with no malice or cruelty, he is a good King. My eyes wander to Thranduil, and I am instantly filled with pride and no small amount of desire.
Like his father he wears silvers, starlight colours that speak of his heritage, but his circlet is more subtle; I guess it is made of mithril and looks like twined willow branches. The collar of his robe is high, obscuring a lot of his face from a distance, but despite the thick scars he is equally as noble as his father. Such fair features, such mesmerising eyes, even if one is clouded, it is no wonder Gilron said he could capture a room from childhood. One look from those eyes and he could render you speechless or hold your soul prisoner, yes he is powerful and gifted with something much more than just physical strength. And yet with me he is gentle and easy to commune with, even now his gaze morphs into that glimmering familiarity that makes my heart sing. That look is meant only for me and for the briefest moment his lip pulls up into tiny a lopsided grin. His gaze sweeps over me just the once, I catch a flame in his eye and the undeniable spark between us that only grows every time we are together, intensified by the fact that for the moment we must suppress it.
However all this is side lined when my eyes fall on Legolas, dressed in a shimmering silver tunic, that is just a tad too big for him, paired with grey breeches and fine leather boots, he is every inch the little master. His soft flyaway shoulder length locks have been smoothed back from his face, held in place by the tiniest most adorable simple circlet. He hides shyly behind his Grandfather's and looks up at me with big blue eyes, all wonder filled and innocent. I beam at him, and he ducks his face into his Grandfather's robe making us all chuckle in unison.
Thranduil leans down and pulls something from his robe to press into his son's hand, he whispers something to him, and I watch with delight as Legolas nods manically in agreement to whatever was said. Thranduil moves aside and Legolas tiptoes timidly towards me, he pulls from behind his back a delicate pale pink rose and stretches it up to me, ducking his chin into his chest and avoiding eye contact.
"For me?" I gasp and kneel down to be at his level, this seems to bring him around and he nods with a bashful smile. I graciously take the flower from his grasp and inhale its floral scent.
"I picked it out for you Clara, all by myself," He suddenly states quite brightly, "Didn't I Ada?"
"Yes you did," Thranduil replies adoringly and even Oropher looks upon us quite indulgently.
"Yes he did and kept us late with all his indecision," Ithril chortles haughtily from the Thranduil's side, but there is a hint of boredom and irritation in her voice that suggests she is not one for fluffy moments such as these.
Legolas' little face crumples for a moment in mild embarrassment and I catch the indignant look Thranduil gives her, which she happily ignores. Instead I laugh and catch his chin with my hand;
"Well I am so glad you took your time, this rose is perfect and how did you know they were my favourite?" I ask and Legolas eyes light up as he launches into his tale;
"Because you said so when we were in the gardens by the barracks, you told me you liked those roses there, and I remembered and I took Ada right to the exact spot and showed him which one, because I am not allowed to pick themself in case I prick my fingers and get blood all over my new clothes."
This begins a new chorus of chuckling; all of us except Ithril seem amused by his little tale. Obviously I am not the only one that struggles with the concept of rambling.
"That is so thoughtful Legolas, I am so lucky to be going to the feast with you!" I sing and he grins, clearly delighted with himself, he throws his arms around me and we cuddle for a moment. I am well aware that this is probably not courtly manners but I love this kid to pieces, he just trailed his father halfway across the halls to get me a rose that I liked, he is getting a bear hug!
After our little exchange is complete we make for the great hall, somewhere I have not frequented often and am excited to see it all done up for the feast. I wave my goodbyes to Oliel and Gilron, Ollie mouthing that she will see me there and I nod grateful for the presence of a familiar face.
When we enter the great expanse of room, filled to the brim with elves both guests and servants, all stand to attention to welcome the King. I hear whispers weave through the crowd as the people register the Prince is in attendance, some gasp too as this will be the first time many have laid eyes on him since the attack. Not all the elves live in the King's halls; many live in farms and outlying districts of Oropher's realm, but in times of celebration they all flock to the hospitality of their King's table. So there is a great deal of neck craning and gossiping as they try and place my unfamiliar face. It is flattering and unnerving all at once, but I don't really care about me, I worry about Thranduil. He is retreating into himself, I can see his posture shrink and his shoulders sag under the judgment. I resist the urge to comfort him, because I cannot, it would only cause more tongues to loosen.
We reach the table at the top of the great room and after a nod from the King we are seated, along with all the guests, this is the sign that the feast has begun. Minstrels play in the background elegant tunes that suit the dining ambiance, and I take this moment to absorb my surroundings. The hall is massive, but at the far end it cuts into a series of archways that lead to a cultivated and stunning garden. Lanterns hang everywhere and winter flowers are stuffed in every available space, rich fir garlands decorate the roof beams and archways and several grand fireplaces are lit, filling the air with the scent of peat and roasting pine nuts.
As well as our little entourage, our table also seats noble lords and their ladies that own land or farms within the realm. Sindar elves that have chosen to make Oropher their King, and settle in Greenwood, these are the aristocracy of the Woodland Realm. Talk is pleasant but regrettably slightly dull as the men dominant the conversation with talk of weather, poor yields and the old days. Their wives are more agreeable and some have brought their children too. Leyla a chestnut haired, rosy cheeked and bright eyed elleth, whose husband owns some grain farms, sits closest to me. She has a young daughter and son around Legolas' age, and they have all seemed to strike up a friendship, making entertaining them a lot easier.
We ladies all converse merrily and even Ithril joins in occasionally, but she becomes bored easily when the conversation turns to children. I don't mind, any advice is happily received, and after all I don't have much experience of elf children. During the course of the chatter, one of the ladies admits she is expecting and the conversation turns ever more female orientated. I listen completely horrified yet masochistically fascinated by the tales of labour and childbirth, obviously being an elf does not mean it is any easier in fact it appears somewhat more gruelling. Ithril is disgusted by the conversation and for an elleth that teaches children I find her indifference bizarre.
She has been trying and failing for the past hour to gain attention from Thranduil. He is not in the least bit interested, and skips between polite conversation with the other lords, to whisperings and musing with his father, and slightly more animated conversations with his son. Since my main duty is caring for Legolas, Thranduil and I often converse with him and I know this grinds Ithril. Part of me is a little smug and the other part reminds me of Gilron's warnings, so out of politeness I attempt to keep conversation equal with everybody, often encouraging a discussion between Thranduil and her, but it is always strained. At least my conscience is clear and I have done the right thing.
After the meal the music tempo livens up and more wine is supplied, conversation turns away from shop talk and tongues are freer. Legolas and his new friends go off to dance and play and I flit between watching them and joining the conversations. With Legolas away the seat beside Thranduil is free and he encourages me to move up so I can join the conversation more easily, I don't initially oblige but Oropher insists and I register I am slowly but surely winning his approval. Still I keep a trained ear on my little charges voice, and another on the discussions that I realise has now turned to war and battle.
"How many battles have you survived now young prince," A dark haired elf lord with navy eyes teasingly asks Thranduil, and I whip my head around suddenly slightly concerned.
"Too many," he replies evenly and let's his gaze fall to the table.
"What is this?" Another ellon interjects, a broad shouldered elf that has the essence of someone who has fought in battles before; "The woodland Prince has lost his lust for war? Thranduil what did that dragon do to you?"
I slowly watch the colour drain from his features, and he draws a shaking hand to his temple, whilst the other slips under the table to rest on his knee. His breathing grows uneven and he attempts to try and laugh off their jesting, but he is quite literally shaking like a leaf;
"Come tell us of the fire drake Prince?" The dark haired elf encourages, "What bravery eh? I vow there will be tales told of you centuries from now!"
"Yes my lord," Ithril grins excitedly and bounces on her seat; "Tell us of the dragon, is the fire like they say? Could it melt iron?"
Is she serious? Is she that stupid! I frown at all of them and watch helplessly as Thranduil twitches visibly from the word melt. I don't know if it can melt iron but it bloody well melts flesh and bone, how tactless these fools are! The three elves start chattering at a ludicrous level about dragon fire and the damage they have heard it causes. Thranduil tries to verbalise something but his words are jumbled and incoherent whispers, stress filling his face and a cold sweat starting to form on his brow. I can't stop myself, he needs me!
I drop my hand under the table and find his; he grips his knee so tightly that I feel his fingernails make indents in the skin. I soothingly lace my hand around his so as not to startle him, and once he registers the sensation his eyes focus steadily in front of him and he clasps my hand tightly in his own. After a moment he lets his gaze drift to mine and I silently hold his attention, attempting to distract him from whatever dark memories that have taken hold in his mind.
After a few moments the chattering abruptly stops when Oropher, who was intently listening to Raffyn, catches on to the topic and scowls furiously at the three culprits;
"There will be no talk of dragon fire in my halls," he snaps, "Nor of battle or war, my son is resting, you will give him the respect of any retired veteran."
"Retired?" I mouth at Thranduil suddenly taken aback, this surely was not something he would want, not after the stories Gilron told me. He sighs and squeezes my hand, devastation evident in his features; he places my hand back on my lap and takes a settling breath before speaking to father;
"I do not believe that was agreed on just yet Adar," he says through gritted teeth.
"You have paid your dues son, you deserve an honourable discharge," Is all Oropher replies. There is a moment of strained silence and I see the storm clouds gather in Thranduil's eyes, and I know he is losing control of himself.
"Dammit!" Thranduil cries in a temper and slaps the table so hard we all jump; "Stop telling me what I can and cannot do!"
"Thranduil!" Oropher warns and apologetically glances at his guests, who uneasily squirm in their chairs, In a more gentle voice the King begins to salvage the situation; "Son calm down, this is just part of the trauma, the angry outbursts are very normal just take a moment have a drink and gather yourself."
"Fine let us drink hm?" Thranduil snaps back and lifts his full glass above his head and in one swift movement knocks it all back, He wipes the wine stain from his lips with the back of his hand and slams the glass down, before rising to his feet to storm off.
"Where are you going?" Oropher sighs as he rubs his temples with fingers.
"Taking a moment to gather my thoughts!" He snipes and strides off without another word.
I watch him disappear into the crowd and hope he has the good sense to search out Aradan, he can at least get through Thranduil's anger. I shake my head in disappointment at the thoughtless conversation that led to the outburst, I guess there were faults on all sides but considering everything I think Thranduil handled it well. I mean I was fully expecting him to crack the wine glass over his father's head, so one should always look at the positives.
Oropher apologizes one more time and the conversation resumes, but I am distracted now worrying about Thranduil. So instead I excuse myself to join in the dancing with Legolas and the other children. Soon I am laughing and twirling about the dance floor, singing songs and teaching the elflings how to dance. It is most entertaining and every now and again my gaze lands on our table and I catch the King nod approvingly at me, or he gestures to the guests about me. I am filled with pride and hope, maybe I have done enough to impress him or at least let him know I am serious about his family, and his Kingdom.
The night wears on and in the midst of dancing with Legolas to a particularly jovial tune, a familiar hand taps me on the shoulder and the two of us spin to regard Thranduil. He looks rather ashamed but I brush over the incident and the three of us engage in a hilarious group dance. Legolas is thrilled to bits that we are altogether and he repeatedly tells us that, he also informs us that he is glad Ithril stayed away and left us alone, but alas he spoke to soon. Once Thranduil was back in view she was over to steal him away for couples dancing, being that she was his guest he could not refuse her. Regardless I carried on having a good old time with my partner, Legolas was even kind enough to share me with some of the Lords from our table and even Aradan got a dance, but only because Oliel agreed to dance with Legolas.
It is past midnight and way past a certain young prince's bedtime when the guests start to filter out and the festivities wind down. The music is softer and more lulling, as love birds sway together on the floor, I am delighted to see Aradan and Oliel as one of those said couples all gooey eyed and giddy. Legolas is still vibrating with energy so in attempt to tire him out I unleash him in the cool gardens, and for the longest time the two of us meander about the pools and fountains gabbling away to each other.
He is quite taken with the reflections of the stars in the pools, and so lying on our bellies, we gaze into the water to see the stars through the cracks in the overhead rocks. I point out constellations I have learned from my studying, and because he is a child and none the wiser it does not matter if I am completely wrong, he believes me anyway. Once bored with that he is distracted by a few fireflies that have travelled in through the openings in the rock, and I watch over him as he tires himself out following them around. I am so absorbed by him that I do not realise someone has approached me until a shoe noisily scraps the gravel, alerting me to their presence.
"Ithril?" I gasp in confusion as I turn to regard the supreme beauty before me.
"Do you think I am blind?" she snaps angrily and I cock my head to the side in confusion. "I saw how you behaved with the Prince this evening? It is disgraceful, you think a few yards of silk can make you a lady! What exactly is your game? Weasel your way into the arms of a Prince to gain a roof over your head, and food in your belly? Are the streets not good enough for you, you little harlot!
"Pardon?" I practically choke, I don't think anyone has ever called me that before in my life. I would find it funny considering I have practically been celibate for longer than I dare to remember, but there is an edge to the insult that actually hurts me.
She sneers darkly and eye's me up and down like I am nothing but dirt; "You disgust me, you vile little creature!"
"I am not playing a game, this is my home and I serve the King," I mumble awkwardly, my cheeks burning from the insult.
"Oh spare me; do you serve his highness too?" She spits her nose wrinkling in disgust; "Your kind make me sick!"
"My kind?" My voice is barely a whisper, and I let my eyes wander over the garden, silently praying Legolas stays distracted long enough for me to end this conversation.
"Uneducated savages, living in trees and rocks like animals!" She scowls; "Your heathen ways ruin the reputation of the noble elves. I cannot even fathom how the Sindar live among you woodland rats, and for Thranduil to allow one as uncouth as you to care for his son is heinous! You will corrupt that child!
"How dare you!" I reply evenly and attempt to keep the tears from my voice; "Prince Thranduil is an honourable ellon, he loves his people and has fought for them more times than you can even fathom. Those tree rats are his people, this is his home and you come here to belittle what he and his father created! Who do you think you are?"
She stops for a moment not expecting my curveball approach to her insult; I thought it better to remind her that she is also sullying a Prince's name as well by her gross accusations.
"Furthermore I am not some harlot, I am a member of the King's court, and you should show me the respect I deserve!" I say with a commanding tone, surprising myself at the authoritative note to my voice. "I do not know what sort of place you hail from but around here we are respectful to each other, regardless of station. You would do well to learn some manners."
I just about finish the sentence when I feel her palm collide with my face with a cracking great slap. I see stars, actual stars and stagger backwards from the force. I automatically cup my stinging face and feel the welt begin to form, I have never been slapped before, and I am completely in shock! It takes a moment for the pain to register but when it does it reduces me to tears, oh good god it hurts like hell!
"You ignorant little pup, do you have any idea who I am!" She hisses menacingly into my face, "I could have the King lock you up for offending me!"
"Hey! Leave her alone!"
My head whips automatically to the sound of Legolas' voice, and I stretch out my hand in warning, but it is too late he charges Ithril and shoves her with all his might.
"Legolas it is okay, be a good boy and go to your Ada" I try and send him away but receive another slap for speaking.
"Stop it!" He cries out and attempts to wedge himself between Ithril and I, "You are not allowed to hurt her." She scowls angrily at him when he pulls violently at the sleeves of her dress; his eyes brimmed with panic and tears. She raises her hand in impatience and my eyes widen in shock at her violent temper.
She lashes out and catches Legolas hard across the chest, the force of the blow makes him topple back and fall quite heavily to the ground. I cry out and scramble forward terrified he has hit his head on the stone ground. His tiny circlet clatters noisily across the stones, and in that moment everything slows down.
Ithril's other hand is still raised as if too strike me again but she does not get that far, a long and scarred hand latches around her wrist, and from the side of my vision I make out another form gathering Legolas off the ground, but most of my attention is on the shocked look on Ithril's face as Thranduil twists her arm back and glares at her with a murderous look.
"You dare lift you hand to my son," Thranduil spits vehemently as he tosses Ithril like a rag doll before him. She has paled significantly and holds her hands out in protest;
"My lord your servant girl she was highly disrespectful, and the boy he got in the way!" She pleads and I still stand were I am glued to the spot shaking violently.
"He is no more than an infant" Thranduil roars at record levels; "And that servant girl is his nurse maid, if he felt you threatened her he was acting out of fear!"
"My lord you are frightening me," she gasps as he enters into her personal space in quite at threatening fashion; "The girl is bad for him, she has twice mocked me and you would defend her? My father would have something to say about this!"
"That girl?" His voice grows deadly calm and he cocks his head to the side; "That girl is a member of my Father's court, not some harlot as you so eloquently put it!"
The elf that has Legolas comes to my side and wraps an arm around my shoulder, I glance upwards to see it is Aradan. He is not looking at me as he waves for another to come forward, Legolas is sobbing quietly and does not protest when he is handed over to Oliel. I suddenly find my voice and quickly whisper for Ollie to get him away, no doubt Oropher will have heard the commotion but Aradan prompts her to inform him nonetheless, she wastes no time and scurries off. All the while Ithril is spewing out her defences and actually wailing at Thranduil, as if she has anything to cry about.
"Enough!" Thranduil roars his face so darkened that his usually glimmering eye is like splintering ice. His temper is breaking and I am suddenly fearful for Ithril, if he does not control himself he will rip her apart. Aradan is obviously concerned too and steps forward, holding out a hand in a peaceful gesture, but it is a little too late.
Ithril obviously attempts grovelling and lurches forward to grip Thranduil's robes, this is pretty much the worst thing she could have done. He doesn't respond well to touch, unless it is expected or done so in a soothing manner. He automatically grips her forearm in a mixture of panic and distrust, he holds the arm so tightly that I am concerned he will break it;
"Thranduil!" Aradan warns as calmly as he can.
"Why do you defend her?" Ithril cries in alarm, "She is a mongrel like the rest of these inbred savages!"
"Savages? Mongrels?" Aradan scowls and suddenly drops his concerned look.
Thranduil has lost it, I can see his mind just click, his expression is dark as night and his ability to reason has left him. I can't let him do something he will later regret, this isn't him and she has goaded him into this. As much as she does not deserve my mercy, I will not have her breaking the control Thranduil has painstakingly put together since his attack. Without hesitation I rush to his side and place my hands firmly on his shoulders stilling his shaking;
"No Thranduil!" I say as softly as I can manage, "She is not worth it; let it be, let it go!"
He predictably shirks away from me, but stops when he registers it is me holding him back. The ice cold eyes soften slightly, and I see in them a great deal of shock and disorientation. He robotically lets go of her arm and works hard to control his breathing, I rhythmically stroke his upper arm in my vain attempt to calm him. He turns his hate filled eyes back on Ithril;
"If you so much as look at my child again, even by mistake, I will toss you out in the gutter and you can find your own disgraced way back to your father!" He snarls vehemently and leans heavily into me like I am his anchor; "And if you ever use such words to describe my people again, my wrath will be the least of your worries you treacherous snake!"
"What in the name of the Valar is going on?"
We all startle at the approach of Oropher flanked by Raffyn and two guards, he eyes the scene before him with a mixture of shock and disapproval. His alarmed gaze lands on his son and I detect a hint of disappointment in his stare. Aradan quickly steps forward and relays the whole sorry tale, missing out no details, and Ithril just curls up on the ground and cries pitifully.
"Lady Ithril I am greatly disturbed," Oropher eventually speaks and strides to her quivering form; "You have not only betrayed my trust but you have assaulted my subject, and however unintended you struck my Grandson. These are serious offenses for which I will demand your punishment. You will be deported to your home in the morning, in disgrace to your Father, and dealings between our families will cease. Is that understood?"
Ithril just nods in defeat and immediately halts her tears; "As you wish your Majesty."
At this response Oropher has the guards and Aradan escort the disgraced Lindon Lady away, she will be under their custody for the remainder of the night. The King turns his attention on Thranduil and I, and continues his assessments;
"Clara be assured I will request a public apology from her house regarding this," He confirms and then looks upon my burning cheek with regret; "Child go take some rest, have one of the healers bathe your face. I am so very sorry my dear, truly I am."
I bow deeply and he smiles fondly, gesturing for one of the servants to assist me home or to the healing halls I am not quite sure which. As I turn to leave Oropher addresses his son and his voice grows angry;
"Just get out Thranduil," he sighs heavily; "And when you have calmed down I expect your presence in my quarters."
Thranduil does not even argue, he just bows swiftly and leaves without another word. I see the exasperation on the King's face and the confused hurt in Thranduil's, and I am powerless to do anything about it. What a perfectly rotten end to a beautiful night.
Oh I think I have been extremely terrible to Thranduil in this chapter?! I do actually love him and I'm purposely trying to make his life a living a hell, I swear I'm not! Anyway please please please tell me what you think? And I might have to up the rating for the next chapter, because I am paranoid.
Anyway since the next chapter is practically halfway complete, hopefully I will update sooner but I can't promise anything. All I will say is things heat up, and they might just get found out?! Uh Oh!