Chapter 4
Even several-thousand-year-old beings have a lot to learn about emotional intelligence. Brene Brown doesn't exist in Tolkein, but there are many Tolkein characters who would benefit from her TED Talks.
...
She was walking Legolas back from his daily lessons when something the elfling said struck her. For his part, Legolas did not seem to think his statement carried any gravity for he went on talking and skipping his way down the cavern corridor.
"— Nemmeth went hunting with her ada last month. They didn't even bring her brothers! And Nemmeth said she climbed to the top of an oak that was so tall she could see all the way to the Lonely Mountain. Miri, do we have trees that tall?"
"Probably, Little Leaf," she replied absently. "But I don't think I'd like to see you up that high."
Legolas frowned, lower lip jutting out in the start of a pout. "Nemmeth's adar lets her climb whatever she wants."
If she'd known that allowing him to socialize with other children would lead to so much fretting, perhaps she would have fought Thranduil harder on the idea of formal lessons. She took a breath, resisting the urge to pinch the nose of her bridge.
"Nemmeth's adar may choose what he wants to allow Nemmeth to do," Miri said crisply. "But as you are my elfling, your ada and I are the ones who decide what is safe for you. I know you are an excellent climber, but it would make my heart ache to see you up so high."
"But Miri —"
"Legolas, there is not a tree in sight at the moment. Must we?"
What had once been the start of a pout turned into a fully-fledged grumble. Rolling her eyes, Miriel walked with him the rest of the way to the royal apartments, depositing him in Carwegeth's care for the time being.
"What is this?" the elleth cried upon seeing the prince's scowl. "Come now, Legolas, I believe Tuigalen likely has some honey cakes fresh out of the ovens for you."
This brightened his disposition enough that Miriel did not feel too terrible about leaving him after a fight. There was little Tuigalen's hot honey cakes could not amend.
Leaving her charge to be clucked over, Miri headed across the fortress. The concern that arose at Legolas's innocent words earlier roiled in her mind, melding with guilt that never seemed to shake loose no matter what she did.
When she knocked on the oak door, Thranduil's clear cold voice bade entry. He was standing over one of the tables across the room, Lord Morcion beside him, the pair pouring over a map the size of the tabletop. The pair glanced up, clearly surprised to see that it was her and not someone more important.
"Miriel," Morcion said lightly. "We were expecting Warden Beleg."
"Then my apologies." She dipped in a curtsy. "I was hoping to speak with his majesty. But I see that you are both occupied."
"No, I suspect something has held Beleg up. I was just about to go to the captain's office to inquire."
Turning to Thranduil, he silently awaited permission. The king gave a short nod. His eyes, however, stayed on Miriel. With that, Lord Morcion departed, offering Miri a small smile as he passed.
. The King dropped his gaze the second the door closed. He spent a long moment straightening papers before sweeping back to his desk and lowering himself to his seat. It felt to her like he was deliberately taking his time as punishment for the interruption. She stayed just past the threshold, hands folded against her stomach, waiting. Once he settled, Miriel approached.
"I hope this is not some matter that you could have sought Galion ought for," he said, lips pursing. "Or waited until dinner."
As she often did in his presence, Miriel suppressed an eye roll. Voice measured, she replied, "It is a matter regarding Legolas. I thought it would be prudent to bring it to you in a more private setting."
Thranduil made a small well go on gesture that made her grit her teeth. But she continued without comment.
"When I was walking him home from his lessons today he told me about Nemmeth's adar taking her hunting. It made me consider how he has not had much opportunity to see you by himself as of late."
"I do so love when you criticize my parenting," he said dryly.
Miri scowled. "It is not a criticism. Merely an observance that in no time he'll start wondering why he does not do the same things that Nemmeth or Sandis or Eiren get to do with their adars. He knows you are king, he knows you are busy. But he'll wonder regardless."
The king tilted his head. His expression was carefully blank, grey eyes perfectly clear. It was frankly unnerving."What do you propose?"
"I don't know. What did you do with your adar when you were an elfling?"
This question clearly brought him up short. His pale brow furrowed. After a beat, during which an appalled Miri was forced to pity the ellon before her, she sighed.
"Why not start with dinner?"
"We have dinner together every night."
"Yes, but I am there. Why not have a special meal occasionally, just the two of you?" She bit her lip, considering. "Maybe then you can get some ideas. He's eager to learn, Thranduil, perhaps you can take the time to teach him something."
The lines on his forehead deepened. "Will he not want you there?"
"That's not the point. He wants time with his ada. It would mean the world to him. He loves you"
While the wariness did not entirely drain from his features, he relaxed. Marginally. "I would like to take him hunting," he said finally. "Perhaps this evening we can discuss some other activities."
Miri smiled. "I'll let Tuigalen know to prepare something special for you both."
"But you will still accompany us most nights?"
The question surprised her. Surely he would be glad to have the opportunity to rid himself of her, even for a few hours? Some day Legolas would not need an elleth to help him dress, to walk him to lessons, to tell him stories before bed. She would cease being useful to them both. The official assignment of overseeing the household had told her that he was unlikely to throw her out of his kingdom the moment Legolas became of age. But she'd assume over time she would be gently pushed from the royal apartments, encouraged to find residence some place where Thranduil would not be forced to see her on a daily basis. It wasn't a thought that made her especially happy. But she'd grown resigned to the idea.
Until then, Thranduil saw her at dinner and on the occasions, she interrupted his meetings and when he deigned to find her to scold her icily.
Now he almost seemed…distressed? At the thought of her absence?
"If you would like me there," she replied, uncertain.
After a pause, she curtsied and made to go. But Thranduil held her back, calling out her name. Miri was surprised to see uncertainty in his gaze, his storm-cloud eyes suddenly troubled.
"You said he wonders about the other's adars," the king said slowly. He wasn't looking at her, but at a point just beyond her shoulder, eyes like glassy glaciers. "Does Legolas ever ask questions of his naneth?"
The ache in her heart, always present for Caladhiel, erupted into a blazed.
"No, not often," she said. "I've never hidden it from him she is…she is gone. He knows that he's different from the others in this way."
"But does he ever ask of her?" Thranduil pressed.
Miriel took a deep breath. She couldn't bear to look at the king, her eyes closing, tracing the ceiling, closing again. "Occasionally. I tell him stories. Describe her, speak of what she loved and how she filled her days, how she loved him. But he does not seem more than a little sad. He cannot miss what he does not remember."
The words feel like a betrayal, burning in her throat. She'd decided long ago it would not be fair to share her grief with the little elf. The burden was too great. She assumed Thranduil agreed. They'd never spoke of Cala during their shared dinners, nor any other times they joined together to entertain the elfling. His time alone with Thranduil was infrequent — Legolas always returned bubbly and eager to share all they had done together. She was confident that the king had never spoken of his wife to Legolas. To the prince, Caladhiel was nothing more than a shadowy figure of lore.
"No," he agreed softly. "No, he cannot."
…
Miri was apprehensive — though she would never admit as much to anyone. Legolas was still so small. Barely up to her hip in height and full of boundless energy. She could picture a myriad of ways he might hurt himself or others. Bruised by a bowstring. A miss-aimed arrow. A puncture wound in the foot. Gouged out eyes….
"Stop thinking so loudly," Thranduil murmured as they walked towards the range, where Legolas had already rushed ahead to meet Rovain, Captain of the palace guard.
She glance up at the king who strode purposefully beside her, pursing her lips. "I cannot help being worried, sire."
His mouth quirked. "The prince will be fine, my lady. He's my son, he shall be naturally adept."
"You're awfully confident in your own abilities," she replied, turning to face him as they stopped at the fence lining the archery range. Rovain was already walking Legolas through the different parts of the bow.
Thranduil kept his eyes on his heir. "Do you doubt them? The skills of a king who has led others into numerous battles?"
"I have not seen you in the field myself, I cannot attest to your skill."
"When we move on to swordplay, you're more than welcome to witness my abilities."
"But training an elfling is hardly the same as sparing."
She watched as Rovain give the princeling a small bracer. Perfectly sized for his small arm. Legolas laced it quickly, following up with a protective glove. He'd arrived wearing a chest guard, something Miriel had insisted upon. Rovain had not protested, agreeing that taking some extra precautions while the prince was still small could not hurt. Thranduil had rolled his eyes, noting that he'd not taken such measures when he was learning, but he's not objected either. In fact, the king himself had been the one to present the prince with the chest guard, crafted by the weapons master and embossed with green ivy.
"When shall we get you in the ring?"
Miri barely suppressed a snort. "Never, if we are lucky."
The king smirked. "How else am I to prove my skill to you, Miriel, if you will not indulge me in a friendly spar?"
Once upon a time, Miri and Cala had been handed wooden practice swords and made to learn the basic forms. It had not been Miri's favorite among their lessons, partially because she had not immediately excelled. She'd been unconvinced of the need to learn weaponry, anyways. In the years since abandoning court life, she'd been forced to gain experience with daggers and knives. The weight of a hilt was now a foreign memory.
"I doubt there is much you'd prove beyond your willingness to protect your ego."
"Are you teasing me, Miriel?" Thranduil was looking at her, eyes narrowed.
Miri turned back to the range. "I would never think to tease the King of the Great Greenwood."
Thranduil scoffed, shaking his head with amusement.
They watched the Captain correct Legolas's stance, kneeling behind him to guide his arm. The prince tilted his head slightly before being chided by Rovain gently.
"Both eyes open, my prince," he said. "Pull the string back, ah, keep the tension."
With a snap, Legolas let the arrow fly. It soared across the field, striking the straw target with a soft thud.
He didn't make the painted circles. But he'd still struck the target. Miriel clapped, cheering. The pride that swelled in her chest was surprising. It felt warm and comfortable like it had been nestled there for all time.
"Ada," he called excitedly, jumping with excitement. "Did you see?"
Thranduil smiled. "Very good, ion nin."
Rovain coaxed back his pupil's attention, giving a few tips as they prepped the bow together again. The king looked down at his companion.
"You see," he said smugly. "A natural."
...
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