There was not a single doubt in Milandy's mind that the figure making his way down the staircase from his throne was King Thranduil, and there was no question about it – this man was definitely the father of Legolas.
If Milandy had thought Elrond was intimidating, she had been gravely wrong, for Elrond didn't hold a candle to Thranduil in all his grace and glory. To be honest, he even made Milandy, dressed in all her finery and as well presented as she could possibly bring herself to be, feel... drab, as though her dress was no more than a potato sack. As he arrived at the bottom of the staircase he looked over them all, all bowing before him, Milandy feeling his eyes on her, like a fire. Once they finished bowing she glanced up to him. Was he... judging her? Oh no. Oh no he was judging her. Oh no. Maybe she should have worn her trousers. Maybe she would have seemed more imposing that way. Or would that have been improper? Milandy panicked to herself in complete silence.
"My son returns triumphant," he finally spoke after what felt like a full minute of silence, a small smile on his face as he looked to Legolas. "A hero of the fellowship, a saviour of Middle Earth... the pride of our realm." Despite the authoritative tone, Milandy could tell he was being sincere, and as she glanced to him, she witnessed Legolas smile. "And with him," he continued, "he brings guests. Humans and a..." he paused, giving an exhale. "...Dwarve."
"Aye, My Lord!" Gimli replied, taking Milandy by surprise. He was brave, she'd give him that. "Name's Gimli, son of Gloin."
"Yes," Thranduil replied, his eyes thinning, not quite impressed. "I have been informed." He gave a solemn nod. "It was not a blink of an eye ago that your father entered these halls... as a prisoner." Without another word, he stepped away from Gimli, who looked rather offended but was stopped from arguing by Legolas' hand on his shoulder. Thranduil moved not to Eomer and Milandy, eyeing them carefully, sizing them up. "And the King and Queen of Rohan," he began, taking another long moment to stare at them, Milandy afraid to breathe. "We are honoured to have you as guests," he finally said with a nod, his eyes closed as he spoke, his hands behind his back.
"And we are humbled to be welcomed in your Kingdom," Eomer replied. Thranduil slowly moved to Milandy now, his back effectively turned to Eomer.
"Do not mistaken my intentions," Thranduil replied. "I have no interest in the Horse Lords of the south. Your Queen, however, carries blood within her veins of one that even we hold in esteem. A great honour for a human." Milandy instinctively reached out and put her hand to Eomer's arm at this, praying he wouldn't argue as Thranduil focused his attention on her. "I imagine humans do not care much for women who battle as their men. It does not come as surprise to me, however, that the descendant of the slayer of the terrible dragon Smaug would defy convention. How many years have you walked on this earth, then?" He asked her.
Milandy nervously glanced to Legolas before looking back to his father, trying her best to not stutter. "25, just turned in October."
"So you would have known your grandfather, then?" He asked, waiting until she gave a nod. "And I assume that he has told you the tales?"
"Yes, My Lord," she replied. "Many. Of the terrible dragon, and the dwarves and the elvish..." she trailed off, not sure if that one was one worth mentioning, but he raised a brow and she realised she was too late. "The elvish bow woman and the dwarve who fell in love."
"Ah, Tauriel," he acknowledged, looking downwards for a moment. "What a great disappointment she was..." He trailed off at this, locking his gaze with hers, even leaning in a little bit, like he was trying to get a closer look to her. "You indeed resemble your grandfather, however. Although your eyes are not filled with the duty and courage that his were. No," he spoke. "They are filled with the fire of a dragon."
"My grandfather would often say the same of me," she replied.
"And he would know. But fire can be unpredictable, something to be wary of..." with that, Thranduil stood upright once more, looking to the rest of his guests. "Tonight do we not only celebrate our guests, but Mereth Nuin Giliath," he announced. "We shall meet again and eat together under the stars."
This 'feast under the starlight' was enough to make Milandy redefine her definition of beauty. While the rest of the Mirkwood palace had been dark, green and brown and amber, the clearing where they had been lead for the feast was bright emeralds and silvers all around, the long tables which they sat at made of glass, the cutlery sounding so gentle that it all sounded like twinkling of the stars above amongst the laughter and song.
The ladies of Mirkwood had, apparently, been excited for her arrival, and had begun to adorn her in their gifts as soon as she returned to her chambers. A dress, of course, was provided for her, sewn weeks ago in anticipation for the Queen's arrival. The fabric was not one she was familiar with at all, and she wondered if it was one only elves were in possession of. In the light of candles it was a green, but under the starlight and in the open it seemed a light blue, almost a silver. Cut to be well fitted, the bodice structured and well tailored, it was truly a dress cut for an elf, and she almost felt unworthy to wear it.
"Your hair is so short," one of the ladies commented as she attempted to braid what length there was. Milandy's hair had indeed grown back somewhat, reaching her shoulders now, but while it was not too short to braid, it was not comparable to what it once was, or to the hair of the elven maidens that surrounded her. The threaded some of the braid through beads, and adorned her ears with elven ear cuffs, and hung a simple circlet over her head, a single stone in the centre, clear and absorbent of almost all light it came into contact with.
And now she sat at the table, between Thranduil who sat at the head of the table and Legolas, who sat to the right side of her, Eomer across the table. "Legolas tells me you have made efforts to learn our language," he commented, taking a slow sip from his cup. "I would be interested to see how adept a teacher he is."
"Ni ú-edhel!" She laughed, doing her best to switch to their tongue, joking that she is not an elf. "But I attempt my best." Her elvish was broken, she was well aware, but she glanced to Legolas, who gave an approving nod.
"Your accent is strong," Thranduil replied, Milandy unsure if he was speaking slowly so she might understand or if he was doing so to be imposing. "My son should take note to work on that. Your pronunciation is good, however. That I will grant you. How long have you studied?"
Milandy sat still, thinking on this, parsing the words. She had understood chunks of it, but not full sentences. The last part was... semi clear. At least she thought so. "Not long after the battle of Helm's Deep," she replied. "Difficult it is alone. But Legolas is friend, and help me well." She glanced to Legolas once more, wincing a little, knowing her sentence was broken, but he merely shrugged.
Thranduil nodded, eyeing her carefully. "Interesting. I will be curious to see how quickly you learn under Legolas," he concluded in the common tongue, obviously over the novelty of an elvish-speaking human.
"Dú viroist sa fallug og stjörnurnar fyr ofan oddir," Legolas suddenly commented to her, his Dalish sounding as though he'd been studying it for years – which would have embarrassed Milandy had he not told her she looked as beautiful as the stars above them. She held in a grin, hoping she was not blushing, impressed that he would dare say such a thing in front of his father, even though it was a language only they shared.
"Your father is right beside us!" she replied in her own native tongue, noticing as the King's eyebrow perked at the new sounds coming from the two. "You grow reckless."
"What is this?" Thranduil asked.
Eomer looked up from his food, glancing between the two. "Dalish. I believe they've been trading languages," he explained, his expression as though he'd just had a revelation.
"Even your 'husband' covers for us now," Legolas laughed, continuing in Dalish. "I am assuming you have come to a peace, then?"
"In a way," she replied. "I cannot believe how well you are speaking! How much have you been studying?"
He smirked at her now, "When I am challenged, I do not take it lightly. Besides, it means I can do this," he continued before taking his cup and holding it to her, as if to give cheers. "I love you!" He proclaimed in her language before drinking back, giving a laugh.
"What was that?" Eomer laughed, apparently taken by the absurdity of it all. Milandy shot the elf a look, before giving a slight shrug.
"He toasts to our progress," she lied, turning to address Thranduil. "Legolas challenged me to learn elvish, so I challenged him to learn Dalish... although it seems he is more proficient than I."
"Someone ask competitive as Legolas?" Thranduil mused, smiling at his son, a slight chuckle under his breath. "There's something that only seems to come around every hundred years or so."
With that, the conversation took a much simpler turn, Legolas telling his father stories of the Fellowship. And as she listened along with him, herself and Eomer and Gimli cutting in to add another detail every now and then, she watched Legolas intently, enthralled in how he regaled the stories.
And it was all she could do to not make it painfully obvious in her expression that she was completely in love with him.
Okay. This one was very short. More Thranduil in the next chapter. And yelling. But yelling about what? Who knows? Spooky... well, okay, not spooky. Also, I think I've figured out how this story will end. It won't be for a while, but it will come, and I'm prepped. I think.
Love you guys, as per usual. Every review makes my fingers smile – only not, like, literally, because that would be gross. But you know.