Hellooooooo
Not really sure what to say other than that. Enjoy the chapter I wrote in 3 days.
"Hi!" The queen of Greenwood vaulted off her husband's antlered mount and landed in a roll, coming to her feet in the same motion while her husband dismounted in a more traditional manner.
"Hello," Storm returned, leaning on one side of the yawning entry to the cavern-in-progress. "Any elflings on the way yet?" This had become his normal greeting for his brother-in-law and sister.
"We're working on it," she promised, trotting past him.
"You know, I'm starting to wonder if you're lying to me," he muttered as he followed her. "Hi, Thran."
"That is not my name, Coryn."
"Well, I can't call you prince anymore," the Silvan elf pointed out, unintimidated by the king's glare, which was only slightly less chilling now that his eye was no longer clouded over.
The three elves (along with the guards who always followed Thranduil around when he was on kingly business, but Sky tried to ignore those) entered the side of the hill, walking up and down stairs, past both elven and dwarven masons chipping away at the stone, and finally along a walkway that closely resembled a large branch and led up to a platform that would soon hold an elaborately carved throne. Here two elves (one of them quite small) and a dwarf looked over a set of plans.
"Ah, good morning," said the taller elf—Taensirion—when he noticed them approaching. "Allow me to introduce Gregor, who is working with our architects to design the palace. These, of course, are King Thranduil and Queen Eithryn," he told the dwarf.
"Sky," she corrected. "Call me Sky. Please." She sent a scolding look over the dwarf's shoulder at Taensirion.
The advisor bowed, grinning. "My apologies, my lady. I did not mean to offend the queen."
She stuck her tongue out at him.
"All is going well, I trust," Thranduil inquired of Taensirion, smirking at his wife's annoyance.
"Indeed. The skill of our dwarven visitors amazes me." Taensirion nodded respectfully to Gregor. "And my helper has made himself quite useful, as well."
"Just doing what I'm told," said the nearly five-foot-tall elf with the pinkish-blond hair. "Good morning, King Thranduil and... um, Queen Sky?"
"I'll settle for that," Sky sighed. "Hi, Firith."
The elfling wandered over to her as Taensirion and Gregor caught Thranduil up on their progress, a serious expression on his face. "It's a very impressive palace, or it will be."
"It will," Sky agreed. "I mean, I still don't understand why we need it, but..."
Firith folded his hands behind his back—Sky was sure he must have picked that up from Taensirion over the last few days—as he looked around what was already a massive cave. "Why is it underground?"
"Safety," she explained. "And it'll last longer. It means a lot to Thranduil, you know," she added, twisting around to look at her husband, "because his father designed it, or at least a rough version of it. It's based off a place in Doriath called Menegroth."
"Really?" Firith glanced back at the elves and dwarf going over the plans. "If it's so important, shouldn't they have figured out all the details before they started?"
That was Firith, organized to a fault. "They had the general layout worked out," Sky said with a shrug. "There's still time to make some minor adjustments if we need to."
"I guess..." the elfling admitted doubtfully. "Hi, Felrion."
"Hi, Firith," the healer said fondly. "You grew again, didn't you?"
Galion's son frowned. "I did not grow noticeably in the last four days, Felrion."
"No, perhaps not," Felrion agreed, laughing under his breath. "Anyway, I have a request to make. Gregor?"
The dwarf artisan looked up, and did not appear to recognize the newcomer. "Yep? What can I do for you?"
"I'm Felrion, the head healer? You said I could look at the healing ward to figure out the details."
"Right, right," the dwarf remembered. "Here's a map." He tossed a rolled-up piece of paper at Felrion, whose attempts to catch it resulted in a few moments of juggling before he got a good grip on it.
"Take Taensirion with you to keep track of what you want done," Thranduil added as the (somewhat embarrassed) healer started to leave.
Felrion gritted his teeth, and Taensirion went rigid. "I'd rather not," Felrion said without turning around.
Thranduil raised an eyebrow, his eyes glittering dangerously. "What did you say?"
Felrion took a step back, but repeated, "I said I'd rather go alone, my lord."
"I am afraid I am busy," Taensirion told the king, without even looking at Felrion.
Thranduil turned to his advisor, who gulped and lowered his head. "I told both of you I was tired of your little quarrel," he said slowly, a clear warning. "Go."
Both elves eyed each other, and for a moment it looked like even Taensirion might outright refuse until Sky spoke up. "I'll go... with both of them."
Thranduil smirked, Felrion opened his mouth to protest, and Taensirion wisely just picked up some paper and a charcoal stick and very, very slowly came over to join them. Sky folded her arms and smiled at Felrion in such a way as to dare him to say something. He did not.
Felrion walked on Sky's right side, and Taensirion on her left as they went deeper underground, into a cluster of natural tunnels that would be shaped and enlarged later—torches here and there lit up the stone just well enough to navigate, but they'd been promised their destination would have more. "Sky, has Thranduil been sleeping better?" Felrion asked after a few minutes of strained silence.
"Not really." She saw Taen glance over just the slightest bit—this topic interested him, too. "He's still having nightmares every other night. I don't know what to do other than help him go back to sleep." It was heartbreaking, knowing each night as they went to bed that chances were he'd wake up screaming at some point, or just shaking.
"You could try sleeping herbs, I suppose," Taensirion offered quietly.
Felrion spun on him. "Are you the healer here?! No! Keep your mouth shut!"
Sky jumped back, and her mouth fell open.
"I am sorry for trying to help," Taensirion hissed through his teeth.
Sky stepped between them. "If either of you say one more word—"
"Stay out of this!" Felrion snapped.
She slapped him across the face. And then, just so it would be fair, she spun around and slapped Taensirion, too, for good measure. "Both of you shut up!"
They stared at her, Taensirion holding a hand to his stinging cheek in shock, and Felrion looking positively stunned that Sky had slapped him.
"You two used to get along just fine!" Sky threw her hands in the air. "You're both some of the nicest elves I know! What happened?"
Taensirion looked down at his shoes. Felrion shrugged and stared at the wall.
This was completely ridiculous. "Fine. I guess it's time to act like a queen, then. Felrion and I are going to go ahead a little bit and have a talk, and then I'll come back and talk to Taen. Let's go." She grabbed Felrion's arm and yanked him around the next corner as Taensirion followed more slowly behind them.
The tunnels were awfully narrow and low here, Sky noticed; she didn't have to bend over, but she was becoming increasingly conscious of the small space. Hopefully the dwarves would enlarge this area quite a bit; she didn't want to have to deal with claustrophobia any time she had to visit Felrion for some reason or another. "Okay, Felrion. Explain yourself."
He was defensive. "I tried to apologize three times. It's not my fault he's holding a grudge."
"Taen can hold grudges?" Sky repeated. "Wait... are you saying you started this?" She supposed it had to be one of them, but what could her friend have done?
"He started it," Felrion corrected quickly, and, Sky thought, as though he wanted to direct the conversation away from that point. "I only apologized for my part—but he didn't at all," he added quickly.
Sky resisted the urge to hit her head against the wall due to the realization that she would be quite frustrated if her children ever did this. "I don't care who started it or who didn't apologize. That was years ago, Felrion. Two hundred years. I just want you two to forgive and forget. Both of you are very important to me, and I want you to get along. Please?"
Felrion winced, and Sky considered him successfully guilt-tripped. "I'm sorry... I promise I keep telling myself I'll be more civil to him, but I guess I'm not doing very well."
She sighed. "Just try harder, okay? I get it if you don't like him—well, no, I don't, but I can deal with it—but to have you constantly fighting is causing trouble for everyone, especially your wives." Kilvara and Lanthirel, paradoxically, had become best friends since their husbands decided not to get along. "You're not going to tell me what happened, are you?"
Felrion hesitated, then shook his head. "I'd rather not."
"I didn't think so, since you wouldn't tell Storm a while ago." Her brother had made his own attempt to end the conflict before the war, and found them very uncooperative. "Anyway, I'm going to talk to Taen now; see you in a few minutes." He went ahead, and she waited for the few seconds it took for Taensirion to come around the corner. "Could you write down that this tunnel needs to end up at least twice as wide and half again as tall?" she requested of the Sindarin elf. "It's getting to me."
"Do you want to go back up?" he asked, concerned. "I mean... we could manage, I think." He already looked ashamed of himself, but didn't he always whenever he and Felrion had a spat? It didn't stop him.
"I'll be fine. I'm not having trouble breathing this time, just feeling kind of funny."
"If you are sure..." He took a deep breath and turned to her. "I am truly sorry about my behavior earlier."
"Taen," she said, feeling tired of this whole thing, "apologize to Felrion."
"I..."
"Yes?"
"Never mind."
Rrrgh. "I'm serious. It doesn't mean anything if you apologize to me, because it'll still happen again."
Taensirion mumbled something.
"What?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know.
This time he spoke just loudly enough for her to hear him. "I am not sure what to apologize for."
She thought of several possible responses ranging from asking for an explanation to smacking him again, but decided to go with, "Don't specify. Just say sorry."
He looked down at the floor. "All right. I will. But... I would still rather not work with him unless I must. Please?"
"That's progress," Sky told herself. "Okay. I'll ask Thranduil, but you have to tell me what happened. I'm starting to think neither of you even remember."
"I remember," he corrected quietly. "But I do not think I should tell you."
This was one of those times when a younger Sky might have called him something having to do with the brain capacity of a creature of darkness, but she was enough wiser now to know he probably had a reason. "Why not?"
"It... You would understand if you knew what had happened."
Sky was getting rather irritated, and it didn't help that she was starting to feel unwell; she couldn't quite place the sensation, but it didn't quite fit in with her normal reactions to claustrophobia. Maybe she'd go outside for a few minutes after they got out of there. "I guess we'll never know. Fine. Just try to behave."
They found the proper place soon after; it was fairly large, with several smaller caverns leading off from it, including two where the dwarves must have enlarged the entrances to almost elf size. Sky nudged Taensirion toward the healer.
The Sindar approached Felrion reluctantly and cleared his throat. "I am sorry."
Felrion gave Sky a suspicious look, but nodded curtly to Taensirion. "Like I tried to tell you before... so am I." Without further ado, he turned away and began describing exactly how he wanted the room to look.
Sky sat down off to the side to watch, feeling drained. This room was larger than the hallway outside, but that wasn't helping any, maybe because she was still conscious of the massive amount of rock above her head, and she kind of wanted to lie down. Ironic that this was happening in the future healing ward, she thought. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something else.
Her thoughts drifted to Thranduil, who really had been having trouble sleeping recently. He tried to pretend he was okay when he was awake, even more so in front of their subjects, but he couldn't hide the pain when he was asleep. No one else could see the scars anymore, but she could, and she worried that the old wounds would be ripped open again someday. All the pressure of being king didn't hurt him as much as she'd worried it would, but it didn't help things.
She didn't mind being queen so much, either. Besides opening up new opportunities for mischief, it did give her the chance to change some things she'd never quite liked, but that Oropher apparently had enough that Thranduil couldn't change his mind. She was still trying to train quite a lot of elves (Taensirion very much included) out of their bad habit of referring to her by her title and full name.
Speaking of Taensirion, she wished he and Felrion would hurry up. She had butterflies in her stomach, except way worse. A whole flock of butterflies, fighting to get out.
"Sky?" a concerned voice asked above her. "Healer, come over here."
"It's just the tunnels," she mumbled. "I'm not dying, I swear."
"We should go back up," Taensirion suggested worriedly. "We can finish later."
Felrion pressed his hand against her forehead. "Sky, why didn't you say something? Thranduil's not going to be happy."
"Don't tell him!" she groaned. "He'll throw a fit! Ugh... at least you two agree on something." She got up slowly, not because of dizziness, but because of a vague impression that the butterflies wouldn't like fast movement. This really was weird.
The walk back up seemed much shorter without arguments or lectures. Taensirion supported Sky with one hand under her arm the whole way, which she didn't mind even though she didn't need it; it was just sweet. Felrion kept a close eye on her; Taensirion eyed him warily off and on, but he didn't seem to notice as his expression became more and more thoughtful.
"Sky?" the healer finally asked as they emerged into one side of the huge cavern they'd started from, if it could even be called one cavern. He put his hand on her stomach. "Does it feel bad right here?"
"Yeah," she said, curious despite her discomfort, which was still increasing even though they were out of the small space. Maybe she'd been wrong?
"And you think it's from claustrophobia?"
"Probab—wait..." Her eyes got very wide. "No... no, it's not, is it?" A huge grin spread over her face.
Taensirion looked at them funny for a moment, and then he got it, too. "Oh!"
Sky was beyond thrilled. Elves very, very rarely experienced nausea—that was what this was, she'd realized—but there were a few things that could do it. Food poisoning, though exceedingly uncommon, was one, as was drinking far too much wine. A third possibility—indeed, by far the most likely in her case—was abrupt changes in a body that had remained stable for centuries—specifically, those caused by a child growing inside said body. Even that only happened in maybe one in three elves, but when it did, it was often the first symptom to show up. "Yes! Finally! ...I think I need to sit down."
They led her to a bench as curious bystanders (both elven and dwarven) began to cluster around them, and someone found a bucket for her to hold until her queasiness went away. Everyone was fussing over her, but for once in her life, Sky was too excited to mind.
"Here she is, King Thranduil!" That was Firith, leading a very upset king who had heard several conflicting stories about exactly what had happened to his wife. He took one look at the color of her face, and turned a bit green as well.
Sky couldn't help giggling a little as Thranduil knelt in front of her, looking back and forth between her and Felrion frantically. "Eithryn? What is going on? Someone said you were ill..." He took in the grins of the three elves in front of him. "Are you playing a trick on me? It is not funny."
"Try again," said Taensirion, who clearly couldn't wait to see Thranduil's reaction to the news.
"I'm definitely sick," Sky told him, still grinning manically.
He blinked.
"Fine, I'll just tell you," she sighed. "I'm pregnant."
His mouth dropped open, and Taensirion, laughing, got up from his spot beside Sky and nudged Thranduil onto the bench. "Congratulations," he whispered before backing away.
"Are... are you really...?" Thranduil stammered.
She thought about that. Was she, for sure?
Yes. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. She nodded.
He sucked in a sharp breath, but then the biggest smile she'd ever seen appeared on his face.
She threw her arms around him, then pulled away just as quickly, leaving him confused again (or still). "I have to tell—" Oops, too fast! Something was forcing its way up... Oh, that didn't feel good.
Luckily, Felrion sensed what was coming and grabbed the bucket she'd dropped when she hugged her husband, and Thranduil yelped and jumped up to hold her steady (despite quite a bit of panic) as she threw up.
Afterward, she made a face at the unpleasant liquid in the bucket. "Ew. Anyway, where's Storm?"
"Right here," her brother said, appearing next to her. "So did you eat something really disgusting, or do I finally have a niece or nephew?"
She pumped her fist in the air. "I have a baby!"
Meanwhile, Taensirion was hugging Thranduil, who looked like he needed it in order to avoid fainting.
In case anyone's inclined to complain at me about accuracy, elf biology is different. So there.