Wanderlust

Chapter Twenty-one: Tea with Thranduil

Thranduil detested waiting, even in the perfectly charming already furnished townhome that Beriadan had procured for him in the finest neighborhood of the city. He had never been the most patient person, and by the second morning that his guards had left, both his porter and valet were completely exhausted trying to keep up with his demands. He wanted a bath drawn—just the right temperature, mind you!—then tea served, he wanted the shades lowered, he needed the settee and all the furniture turned facing east, was there not anymore of that excellent wine, and could the valet venture back to the market for some more of those berries? Needless to say, the porter was more than overjoyed when a willing distraction presented itself to take the king's mind off of the search for his son.

A young gangly elf had arrived at their door, seeking audience with the king. He claimed to have information of the utmost importance, and although the porter scoffed at this notion, the frazzled elf jumped at the chance to have someone else entertain his majesty—even if only for a short while.

Barathion, son of Baros, peered through the door to which that most unhappy of porters had delivered him. There sat the king directly across from him, posed regally at a long table, and the snowy crest of the Lonely Mountain gleamed through the bright window behind him. The table was neatly kept, with two piles of parchment—one of blank pieces, and the other of neatly penned correspondence. The king stopped mid-sentence and slowly lifted his eyes to the door at the first sound of intrusion. Barathion straightened, and then thought better of it and bowed somewhat clumsily.

Thranduil tilted his head, just ever so slightly at the unlooked for appearance of this young ellon; of course, he remembered the youth—the misunderstanding of the giant owls had been most amusing, albeit rather silly.

Barathion hesitated—the king's piercing blue eyes rattled all the coherent thoughts right out of his head! Then when he finally pulled himself together, all the words came out in a rush: "Your majesty, King Thranduil, sir—I know you only just spoke with me at Faendol vineyard, but I found something out—something you may wish to know!"

Thranduil steepled his hands together under his chin and nodded for the young elf to continue.

"I know that you were looking for Prince Legolas, who in turn had left to search for the young elf maiden who ran away—" but Barathion did not have a chance to finish this thought, for he was cut off by another smaller voice, who edged in front of him through the door frame.

"I did not run away," Narylfiel clarified, meeting the king's gaze directly. "I strategically left without notice."

A ghost of a smile appeared on the king's lips. Thranduil then rose from his table and crossed the room to greet her. "I do not believe that we have met," he said, battling mixed feelings of amusement and disdain for this child whose antics had already caused him quite a bit of trouble.

"Your highness, I am Narylfiel, daughter of Belchuil," she said smartly, tacking on a surprisingly dainty curtsy at the end.

"I have heard much of you, young lady, but I think that I shall like to hear the tale again, from your own lips this time."

He eyed Barathion. "I would like to speak with young Narylfiel alone," Thranduil said dismissively. "My porter will attend to your needs." Then he shut the door in Barathion's face and led Narylfiel over to a pair of cozy armchairs by the hearth. He could not help but notice the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the well-stocked tea cart.

"Please, help yourself," he said, "for you must be famished after the ride to Dale. Why did Barathion bring you here, young one?"

Narylfiel glanced up from her plate loaded with tiny tea cakes, berry tarts, and scrumptious looking cucumber sandwiches and decided in that moment that she liked the Elven King, very much so.

"Barathion means well," she began, her eyes round and full of all the serious wisdom of youth, "but sometimes he just does not think things through."

Thranduil nodded in agreement and took a slow sip of his tea before answering. "What makes you say that?"

Narylfiel looked down at her plate and poked at her berry tart with her fork for a second. She raised her eyes again to meet Thranduil's—not an easy task, for they were so intense, so intimidating—and confessed, "I tricked Barathion into bringing me here, Your Majesty."

Thranduil almost spit out his tea. Instead, he gracefully dabbed his lips with his napkin and returned his cup to the delicate saucer on the end table.

"Young lady," he chided, "you tricked him? But why?"

Narylfiel bunched up her napkin and then smoothed it out again. "I was worried, Your Highness—about my sister Thaliniel and Prince Legolas. After I got them to leave, I did not want them to worry about me too much."

"After you got them to leave…" the king repeated incredulously.

Thranduil paused. This little conversation was getting more and more interesting by the second.

"I think you had better tell me everything," Thranduil decided.

Narylfiel nodded. It was exactly what she wanted.

So she began her tale, in between bites of tarts and little biscuits, with the Elven King of the Woodland Realm hanging on her every word.

Long would her words linger in the king's mind.

Much later that day Narylfiel's two principle topics of discussion, Thaliniel and Legolas, communed together next to a smallish fire he had built. The company had stopped to rest for the night, and at first, Legolas and Thaliniel had welcomed the chance to be together, especially as most of the royal guard members had spread out—either to scout, hunt, or stretch their legs. They would reach Dale by the next afternoon.

At first their conversation had been rather easy—Thaliniel had commented on the fight with the wargs, which Legolas had been ecstatic to discuss in detail—but as the night deepened and the fire burned down into glowing embers and orange-hot coals, the elves' return journey weighed heavily on the prince's heart.

"I wish we were there already," Legolas muttered and gave his fire a sharp poke with a stick, which stirred up a swarm of sparks. "Then at least it would be all said and done with."

Across from him, Thaliniel nodded understandingly. "Will your father be very angry, Legolas?"

The prince did not hesitate, nor did he mince words. "Yes, he will be angry. About everything." Legolas absolutely dreaded the reunion, for the more he stewed over his actions over the past couple of days, the more he found fault with them. Many of his regrets—nay, most of them—centered on Thaliniel, and Legolas struggled to put right his feelings for her. He had appointed himself her protector and had failed miserably at the role in so many ways.

"I shouldn't have kissed you!" Legolas blurted out, and then clapped his hand over his mouth. He had hardly meant to say that out loud. Of course, he had been thinking it—he had been thinking about that kiss ever since that moment in the caves—but he never meant to broach the subject with Thaliniel, at least not yet.

Of course now, those words had been said, and Legolas could scarcely take them back, despite however much he may have wished to.

Ears burning painfully, the prince looked up at her through his lashes, barely able to make eye contact; he dreaded seeing a hurt expression on her face, or worse her total rejection of him, not that he did not deserve it.

Instead, her cheeks pinkened, but she nodded slowly in agreement. "No, you probably shouldn't have," Thaliniel said shortly.

Legolas stared at her for a second as the color slowly drained from her complexion, and even so the softness of her cheek still looked like a velvety rose petal in the firelight.

Wordlessly, Thaliniel stood, opened her mouth as if she were going to tell him something, then bit her lip and turned away to leave.

Legolas jumped up and was instantly upon her, reaching for her hand, drawing her back to his side, next to the fire, and for some reason, she let him.

"Thaliniel, I am so sorry," Legolas said, his words and feelings all a fluster. "I never meant to say it like that—I just feel so guilty for everything that happened in those caves. None of that should ever have happened."

He paused and realized he still held her hand. He let it go. Reluctantly.

He held her gaze and concluded softly, "You should never have been put at risk like that in the first place. It was my fault."

"I am sorry," he added again.

"Don't be," she said suddenly, meeting his eyes with a burning intensity behind her own. "I was as much responsible for anything that transpired in those caves as you were, Legolas," she said and added defiantly, "and I am not sorry for what happened."

Legolas stared at her incredulously for a moment. Did she mean the kiss, or the goblins, or a combination? He hardly knew how to ask her to clarify.

"Thaliniel," he began delicately, toying with the ends of his hair, "I know you cannot mean that. Those goblins—it must have been horrible for you…"

Thaliniel folded her arms with a huff. "Legolas!" she exclaimed, "I do mean it. I thought you, of all people, would understand. I felt alive back there," she said, gesturing behind her to the Grey Mountains, "—of course, the part of us getting captured was horrid, but the rest of our journey, our adventure together—was amazing." she fiercely declared and stared at the dwindling flames.

Legolas nodded, understanding finally beginning to sink in. "I suppose neither of us will be having any more adventures after this," he commiserated. "My father will have me under lock and key."

Thaliniel rested a reassuring hand on his forearm and the two of them locked eyes. "Legolas, don't let his judgment, or anybody's for that matter, make you feel like less of a person than that fearless elf I had the pleasure of seeing fight during our journey." Her voice softened. "You deserve so much more."

And somehow they both understood that she was speaking to herself as well.

Legolas poked the fire again, and gazing through the sparks, the prince became painfully aware that Beriadan, along with Elladan and Elrohir, had been observing them from across the field. Legolas' cheeks colored as he discreetly attempted to slide a little further away from Thaliniel, and the familiar sense of dread rekindled at the bottom of his stomach.

In less than a day's time, he would be reunited with his father.

In less than a day's time, he would have to say goodbye to her.

He should never have kissed her.

She was all he ever wanted.

And could never have.

.

Author's Note:

Okay, so the moment you've been waiting for-the Legolas and Thranduil reunion will be at the forefront of the next chapter! What do you think will happen? What would you like to see go down? And what do you think about all of Narylfiel's plotting?-and what exactly did she want to tell the Elven king so badly?

I have to say-one of my new favorite moments in this story has to be that of Narylfiel sitting down to tea across from Thranduil in the squashy arm chairs! Love it!