Meetings

Chapter Summary

In this chapter, the guards have a breakfast feast, there are interrogations, and Thranduil gets little sleep.

Chapter Notes

I'm so glad to see all the kudos and comments! Please, keep the comments coming!

Now it's time for my really bad elvish translations!

* elleth/ellith - female elf/ves

* Vain - Chief or head of something but of a noble bloodline

* lefnar - an elvish work week;5 solar days

* Bwa - no

* yén - 144 solar years or one elven year

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 4: Meetings

Thranduil stood before his vanity, placing each ring on his fingers with care. Galion was behind him, hold the forest crown with reverence. It would be the last item the elvenking would put on this morning.

"Is everything prepared?" Thranduil asked his butler. The elvenking awoke this morning with a plan. Realizing the extent of the conspiracy to rid his kingdom of the descendants of the kinslayers and of any that harbored them, he knew what he had to do.

"Yes, my lord," Galion began as the elvenking turned and took the crown from him to place upon the Sinda's head. "All the Maite company are in the smaller dining hall along with the healers that witnessed the events at Solchbar."

Making a grunt of approval, Thranduil turned back to his vanity to ensure all was as it should be. His crown, currently with only the slightest hints of green and the earliest spring florals, sat upon the back of his head. His robes were of the richest silks from the far east and fell to just above his boots. The glittering soft silvers and blues today opened to reveal the purplish slate silk of his trousers. His velvet mantle of the day hung about his shoulders in a cross of a silvery green and the same purplish slate of his trousers. These were the colors of winter as it melts into spring.

Affirming that all was as it should be, the elvenking turned back to his butler. "The nursemaids for the gwinig," he began. "You have started the interview process?" Thranduil did not wait for an answer but moved towards his chamber's doors, the butler keeping up with practiced ease.

"I have set up interviews for this afternoon, my lord," Galion informed his king. "I have also set up an appointment for you past the mid-day meal to speak with the head of the interior arts regarding what forms the nursery will take." The butler held his small appointment diary open to double check the events of the day. It normally hung from his belt in it's richly tooled leather cover. The diary held lists of appointments and activities all of which were outlined in either charcoal, red ochre, or even ink when he was able to sit down and write.

The elvenking nodded. "Thank you, Galion," he responded somewhat kindly. No formal announcement had yet been made regarding Thranduil's taking in this orphan of the forest. He would wait until the current turmoil calmed enough and that the inner palace guard was sure they had all the kinslayers and traitors under lock and key.

Once the two ellyn reached the doors of the royal apartments, Galion moved to open them. Brushing past his butler, the elvenking stopped but a moment. "Ensure that Legolas attends as well for the appointment mid-day," he commanded.

"Of course, my lord," Galion responded with a slight bow of his head. Wrangling the prince and the elvenking into a room at the same time was not always the easiest of tasks but ensuring the royals were where they were supposed to be was part of the butler's job. Adding an elfling into the mix, well, Galion had at least a few months if not a couple of solar years to worry about that.

Thranduil made his way to the dining hall where the Maite Company would be waiting. Although an evening feast was more traditional for those that brought back survivors and dealt with the dead, a large breaking of the fast would suit the elvenking's purposes more. He needed the entire company to be awake and to have a day's reserve of energy in order for what he planned to do to work.

At the entrance to the dining hall was a table, and upon it, a vial of a darkened liquid. Snatching it up, Thranduil went inside, holding the vial so that it was hidden from casual view.

Upon seeing their king, all the company stood and bowed. They had been talking, even laughing, before the elvenking entered their mist. Thranduil nodded to the assembled elves which gave Captain Feren his clue to speak.

"We thank you, King Thranduil, for your kindness this morn," the captain declared. Before the sun even arose, all members of the company were given a note to meet in the dining hall and a reminder of not to speak to anyone regarding the events that occurred during their latest mission. All missions were classified beyond keeping the realm safe from the agents of Mordor anyway.

Moving about the room, Thranduil started at the further most stove – for there were six stove heaters in the room, meant to keep the occupants comfortable during any meals. Kettles were placed upon the brightly titled and glazed stoves as were small pots filled with water, orange slices, and the richly smelling cinnamon sticks. The latter was normally used to give the room a fragrance, but today would serve a dual purpose.

"Please, take your ease," the elvenking informed the assembled guards. Immediately, they sat down. While Feren was used to the ways of his king, some of the enlisted guards were not. He heard in passing from a few that they had never before been in his presence outside of the merrymaking festivals or official presentations. To have a meal for a few, where the king would attend, made them giddy. Feren was more thankful for the boost in moral that they so desperately needed than for the freely given food itself.

Before turning back to the Maite company, Thranduil undid the stopper on the vial and placed a few drops into the pot of oranges and cinnamon on the stove. Once it was in, he quickly moved off to the next stove, speaking as he passed the guards. "I hope that you will enjoy the meal today. I know the past two lefnar have not been easy upon you and it is my sincere wish that this small respite will restore your spirits," he stated as he moved.

The elvenking went from stove to stove, around the room, placing a small amount of the dark vial's contents in the slowly simmering perfumes. This was not the first time he has had to do this, nor did he believe it would be the last. Rather, he learned. Most of those assembled likely believed he was doing nothing more than adding a bit of a perfumed oil to further enhance the already pleasant smells emitting from the stoves. Very few ever questioned it.

"What is that you are adding, my lord?" one of Captain Feren's lieutenants asked quietly, as if he was unsure if he was allowed to speak to the king or not. Thranduil turned, smiling slightly, the vial somewhat visible in his hand. He noticed it was Lord Alagos' youngest child. The counselor of Military Affairs wanted his children to follow him. So far, his youngest son had shown some promise and his daughter already headed the internal investigations division for the Justice ministry. The counselor made them both start out at the beginning of the ranks and gain promotions on merit alone.

"A bit of perfumed oils brought back from the west, Lieutenant Aithrion. I thought them to compliment the oranges and cinnamon," Thranduil shared before walking to the next stove. "Do tell me what you think," the elvenking added before going to the last stove and adding more dark drops to a pot thereon lay.

Mollified but slightly embarrassed, particularly under the glare of his captain, Aithrion slouched back into his seat. He had been to court before and would speak with the elvenking prior to his acceptance into the guard. It was a difficult transition to go from being a Lord of the Court, in control of lands and helping his father, to being near striped of his title in place of a new one. Yet, he still continued on his course to increase in the military ranking system rather than abide by his blood alone.

Once Thranduil had added the dark drops to all the pots upon the stoves in the room, he turned to the Maite company and could already see the slight affects upon those sitting nearest the first stove he added the drops to. That was all for well in his mind for it meant he had done this correctly. The drops would only need a minute more to permeate the air and settle, affecting all those that were sitting at the table. Thranduil, standing, wouldn't be affected as quickly. Still, he stood before the steps at the entrance to the sunken room so that he could climb, if necessary.

"I am thankful that you were all able to return to my halls and managed to bring home a survivor," the elvenking began. Looking down the table, he looked for the elleth Legolas described. Though not many ellith join the guard, the Maite company boasted 37 such ellith. Finding the one named Nanessa was difficult with so many out of the 120 assembled guards. Thankfully, only one was a corporal and her uniform bore that proudly. "Corporal Nanessa?" Thranduil asked kindly so as to gather her attention.

Nervously, the Silvan elleth jumped up at attention, causing a few chuckles – particularly from the officer's table. The elvenking nodded to her, "My son asked for me to inform you first that, since we have not discovered the name given to the gwinig by her parents, I have named her instead."

Nanessa, without thinking, blurted out, "And what name is that which you have bestowed her, my lord?" She immediately mentally chastised herself for addressing the elvenking. Had not Lieutenant Aithrion, her superior in every way, just done the same? And was not Captain Feren still shooting daggers at him?

"Tauriel," Thranduil answered, nonplussed by the question or the break in decorum. To him, it only showed how much the Silvan corporal cared already for the child.

Blushing now, Nanessa looked up and smiled at her king before quickly looking back down. She rather liked that name as did many of the other guards based upon the murmur that arose. Thranduil gave her a wave of her hand to sit back down. He would need them all to be seated for the next part to work.

Once the corporal regained her chair, the elvenking continued, his hands now behind his back. He was trying very hard not to pace or fidget. "The job of seeing to the burials of our brethren is never an easy one and there is no shame in admitting to the nightmares that may come from the horrible sights you have borne witness to," he began. The somewhat jovial mood of the room quickly sombered. Thranduil hated this. He hated all of it. But it was something that needed to be done.

Looking out to the eyes of his citizens, the elvenking saw the slight glazed looks back. It was time. Calling upon the inner magic, Thranduil continued to speak in his native Sindarin, but now with a bit more urgency. "An attack by the Easterlings again, was inevitable. To have the orcs join them and decimate the entire village, save the one gwinig well hidden by her Silvan parents, is a surprise to us all," he informed the guard. None of the guard dared to correct him. In fact, they all gazed back with a slightly blank face, arms as the sides, and not moving. There was no more animation from them or hints of whispering.

Good. It was working. However, Thranduil could also feel the first fingers of the dark waters from the enchanted stream affecting him as well. Taking a step back, he rose up a step to get away from the heavy invisible mist. This would be better. Very few will remember it was a kinslaying. The traitors would not win.

There was nothing the elvenking could do about the murder in the palace but, at least, this might be covered up so as to protect the young survivor. If no one, save his son, knew that Tauriel was a daughter of a half Sinda lady in the village, then she could be hidden in plain sight even if there are additional treacherous plans going on in the palace. The waters of the enchanted stream have their uses, as this was one of them, to make others susceptible to persuasion. Add in a bit of known Sindar spells, and the guard would believe him to be a giant pink rabbit if he asked them to – and would do so for the rest of their days upon Arda as far as the elvenking knew.

"You each fought well and rid of us any lingering orc presence in the southeast," Thranduil continued. "You gave dignity to those that were slain, including the gwinig's Silvan parents," he re-iterated. The last thing Thranduil needed was for any to recall a half Sinda mother and a mixed Sinda and Noldo father. If all that had seen their hröa remembered the parents to be Silvan instead, then even the gwinig may not question it as she grew. For any she questioned, save Legolas or Thranduil, would recall only a village of commoners after an orc attack.

"Rejoice in that all of the Maite company were without serious injury and returned to the halls with our young survivor."

Ending the spell quietly, Thranduil moved back up the rest of the steps, opening the door slightly. The affects of the dark drops would last only a minute more before it dissipated completely – leaving the company to believe they battled Easterlings and Orcs without getting a scratch. "Please, enjoy all the feast I have asked be prepared for you," he ended with, giving the company a slight nod of the head.

"We thank you, our king," he heard a few mutter or variations on the same as they slowly came out of trance. It was always best to preform this particular bit of magic on subjects that had fasted for at least three hours but were full of energy. It was partly because, as the elvenking learned early on, if you preformed it at night, the mix of reality and what the subject was told to believe would come to them in dreams. This would leave a sometimes confusing story or stories as to what happened. It took a few hours for the thoughts the elvenking would impart upon the subject to settle into the brain and take root.

Leaving whilst allowing the kitchen assistants to enter with a variety of griddle cakes and fruit, Thranduil stopped in a small alcove off the main hallway and wept. He had not wished to tamper with his own citizens minds such as this but the current situation allowed no other choice. He could not allow anyone to threaten his rule or his blood.

The previous night

Marching through his halls after his son took his leave for the evening, Thranduil made his way down to the deepest regions of the dungeon. The upper parts were little more than cells meant to hold prisoners but hardly the things of nightmares. It was the lower cells where he could leave someone and forget for a yén or two. Torture was for orcs and goblins. Rather, the elves thought one of the greatest insults one could pay to another was to be forgotten by those that live forever.

Seeing Lord Alagos and his daughter, Vain Glossien awaiting him at this late hour near the deepest of the dungeon room, the fierce expression on the elvenking's face broke only for him to speak. "Report!" Thranduil bellowed. Exhausted emotionally and physically, the elvenking would broker no mere idle report that did not go much beyond the typical all is well.

"Lady Colleth is interrogating Lord Rhîwon regarding what he knew of his son's activities, my lord," Vain Glossien responded as she straightened her posture. She wore a serviceable feminine work robe out of a lesser silk and a sturdy leather bodice, but nothing of show as the ladies of the court do often wear.

Following her king further down into the cavern, and with father's support, she continued. "He claims to know nothing, your highness," the head of the investigations department informed her king.

At the door, the elvenking's hand faltered. He heard the slight huff from Lord Alagos. "You doubt this?" Thranduil inquired of his old friend, turning his head only slightly to acknowledge the head of Military Affairs.

"What parent doesn't have an idea of their child's thoughts?" the old warrior grumbled from the left side of his king. Vain Glossien kept her mask of formality about her when she spoke again.

"If every parent actually knew their child's thoughts, father, then you would know which ellon I favored," she stated with a hint of mirth creeping into her voice.

Thranduil turned towards her as he opened the door. The brazen grown elfling of Lord Alagos moved passed her king with only a slight nod of the head in deference to him, ignoring her father's fairly good impression of a koi fish. She went to stand slightly behind Lady Colleth who was bowing at the elvenking as he entered. When Lord Alagos finally gathered his wits enough about him, he too entered the chamber where, in the center, stood a near cowering Lord Rhîwon. Lady Colleth raised an eyebrow at Lord Alagos but said nothing. Her curiosity was of what clearly his daughter had imparted upon him and not his being in the room. Lord Alagos would act as both bodyguard to the king and commander of the military should Lord Rhîwon give them any information of other traitors still beyond the palace walls.

Lord Alagos shook his head slightly but kept his eyes more on his daughter than on the prisoner. Vain Glossien ignored him.

"Sit," Thranduil commanded of Lord Rhîwon, who looked nearly as gray and as weary as Thranduil felt. The -as of yet- still head of the Worker's Council melted into his chair. The others, except for the guards and Lady Colleth, took chairs from around the room. The head of the Justice ministry stood as patiently, almost indulgently, near Lord Rhîwon.

"Tell me again, has your son said anything to you of his activities with Lord Beinion," the Justice minister asked in almost a syrupy way.

Lord Rhîwon's head fell into his hands, his elbows on the arms of the chair in which he sat. He was called by Vain Glossien's department to reappear the morning that the guard came back with the prince. Since then, he has had an investigator or a minister interrogating him without ceasing. Lord Beinion's death has cast questions on his family and particularly Lord Rhîwon's son Aravar. The trouble his son was in now, Lord Rhîwon knew not of.

"I knew nothing of Beinion's planning nor of the murder of Lady Miluiel," he despondently responded.

"And of your son?" Thranduil sneered.

Lord Rhîwon looked up at his king, only to see the elvenking step closer and tower over the councilor. Gulping at the crushing presence of the king, the lord could only respond thusly, "You must ask him, for I know not what he has done."

Thranduil looked between Lady Colleth, Vain Glossien, and Lord Alagos. Neither the minister of Military Affairs nor his daughter gave the hint of movement. It was Lady Colleth that shook her head slightly. No, no one had told Lord Rhîwon yet as to what happened to his son.

On the outside, Thranduil only raised an eyebrow in question; inside, he waged a war with himself. Was it better to allow Rhîwon to continue to believe his son was alive and well or to give the Lord of the Worker's Council the truth? Thinking to his own beloved son, the elvenking thought not long upon the question.

"Out!" Thranduil bellowed. The two guards in the room – who had been impassive until now- quickly made their way to the door and open it for the Sindar to exit. "All of you! Out!" It was clear whom the elvenking meant – all except Lord Rhîwon.

Once the door was shut, the elvenking turned gracefully on his heel and brought his face down to Lord Rhîwon's, saying nothing. The councilor, under this close scrutiny, gulped again. He had never quite gotten used to Thranduil's mood swings nor completely understood the king. While the councilor was excellent at negotiating between the various guilds and workers, negotiating with the king was simply not a skill he wielded well.

The elvenking peered into the eyes of his councilor for a moment longer before near mouthing a question. "What has your son said to you of Beinion's works?"

Fidgeting now and near shaking in his seat, Lord Rhîwon tried to keep his king's gaze despite his fears. "Only that Guilin and himself were to camp and hunt last week. He promised me to bring back a deer or two," he answered. Thranduil saw no lie in the lord's eyes but continued to examine him.

"What of Lady Miluiel's daughter?" the elvenking interrogated him.

Lord Rhîwon's brow furrowed. What did this have to do with Nordil and Lady Miluiel's elfling? How old would that child be now? Six, seven hundred? He was unsure. "I have not seen her in centuries, my lord," the councilor answered truthfully. "What has my son to do with her?"

Slowly, Thranduil backed away. The councilor's eyes held not hint of deceit. Perhaps it was as Vain Glossien hinted – the father truly did not know what his son thoughts were.

Moving to a table where glasses for water were set out but, sadly, no wine, the elvenking moved to pour himself a glass. Turning slowly, he held up a glass to Lord Rhîwon to ask if he would care for refreshment. The councilor lowered his gaze and muttered a no thank you.

"Then you do not know that your son was doing in the village of Solchbar?" Thranduil inquired. A cloud of confusion further fell on Rhîwon's face. The poor councilor was never good at masking his emotions; even at the bargaining table over the prices of wares, the councilor would smile happily and seem to be almost ecstatic when a negotiated price was accepted.

"Solchbar? To the southeast?" the councilor clarified.

Thranduil nodded once in the affirmative before taking a sip of the water. At least Lady Colleth's assistants – perhaps Vain Glossien- was kind enough to add a bit of lemon to the drink so it was not without taste. "I'm unsure, my lord," Rhîwon stated, his brow scrunched up in thought. "I gave him no directives to attend," the councilor began, now tapping his chin before looking back to the elvenking. "Perhaps Beinion or another of the Agricultural ministry gave him orders before the dreadful business with Lady Miluiel?"

Stilling slightly, an incredulous look came across Thranduil's features. "Dreadful business?" the elvenking scoffed. Yes, that was one way to put it. Kinslaying, murder, traitorous, and felonious were all ones the king himself had used in the past month since the hints of a conspiracy arose.

Abashed, the councilor looked down at his hands upon his lap now. "My apologies, my lord. I know Lady Miluiel was kin to your son Legolas," he murmured.

Closing his eyes for only a second, the elvenking attempted to rein in his emotional turmoil as the memory of his wife arose unbidden. He had to focus on any clue that Lord Rhîwon knew of, whether the councilor realized it or not. Taking a sip of the water, Thranduil looked to the head of the Worker's Council again. "So, you knew nothing of your son's appearance at Solchbar?"

Lord Rhîwon shook his head slightly. "If my son has done any wrong, please, my lord, at least allow me to speak with him. I care not if Lady Colleth or any guard you may wish is with us. I only ask that I may see my son and understand what it is you believe he has done?" the councilor pleaded.

Placing the glass slowly upon the table, Thranduil took a seat near him. No, he felt the councilor did not deceive him nor play a role in this – at least not wittingly. He knew Lord Rhîwon far too long to believe he would abide by a kinslaying of any form. The ellon was far too gentle.

The look up on the elvenking's face stabbed fear straight into Lord Rhîwon's very fëa. "Bwa…" he mouthed as a look of pity overcame the elvenking's features.

"He was found in the village hall of Solch…" Thranduil began.

"Bwa!" the councilor roared in anguish, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the arms of his chair. "Not my son!"

Thranduil couldn't say he was sorry, for he did not feel it when presented with the death of a kinslayer. The only one the elvenking felt sorry for was the councilor before him and even then, he wasn't sure how much for not all of him yet trusted that Lord Rhîwon had nothing to do with this. "It appears he led the village host to the hall. He was found with most of the villagers," the king continued as he listened to the councilor's woeful sobs.

"Aravar," Rhîwon bemoaned. Sobbing into his hands, the lord said nothing for a long while. Thranduil waited but noticed, despite that it was only himself and Rhîwon, the councilor made no angry gestures or attempts against the elvenking, but sat mourning the loss of his son. The elvenking knew far too well the pain of losing one you held dear and doubted he would be any better than Rhîwon should it be Legolas who stood before the halls of Mandos.

"He….he told me he was going hunting, my lord," the councilor hiccupped. "Is there any possibility that he had gone to Solchbar to help…"

Shaking his head negatively, Thranduil began, "If it helps, the guards believe Guilin betrayed your son." This information set off a new set of tears for Lord Rhîwon knew, based upon his interrogation and this new information that his son had been caught in former Lord Beinion's plan.

Once quieting again as Lord Rhîwon thought of anything that may be of importance, that may vindicate his son, he recalled a meeting last year. The councilor had gone to look for his son only to find many of the Sindar ellyn, ellith, and even a few Silvans pouring out of a room near the old storage for fibers and woodcraft. His son had been among them as had Guilin and Lord Beinion. He knew many of the other faces as well. All wore identical looks of shock – save Lord Beinion- upon seeing the councilor there. It was if they were elflings with their hands caught upon sneaking biscuits and cakes from the kitchen. The councilor never bothered to ask what they had been doing. His son later informed him that it was a meeting regarding the history of the Kinslayers in the first age. Hardly a nice topic but a necessary history lesson. Why Lord Beinion spoke upon it rather than the archivists or why his son showed a sudden interest in history, Lord Rhîwon never questioned.

"Lady Nenneth," Lord Rhîwon began in a monotone voice. The elvenking raised an eyebrow at the sudden sound of a name.

"Lord Iorthon," the councilor continued. Thranduil knew that name and its association. Lord Iorthon was arrested a fortnight past for his suspected involvement, before they caught Lord Beinion. Quickly, the elvenking found a wax tablet and stylus to take notes upon as he wrote down the names that flowed from Lord Rhîwon's lips. Most, the elvenking knew of but a few surprised him.

The Silvan archivist, Telerynon, was named as was the head of the chambermaids. That an archivist may be a too enthralled with history and join in battles of others made some sense to Thranduil, but the head of the chambermaids, Gwanweth, he could not understand. That was, until the elvenking recalled whom Gwanweth worked for before becoming part of the palace service – she had been Lady Nenneth's housekeeper until the past decade. As he took down the names, Thranduil remembered; Lady Nenneth recommended Gwanweth when the previous head of the chambermaids suddenly declared she wished to visit relatives to the west. Now, the elvenking wondered how long and how far this conspiracy went.

Upon writing the name of the head of the fruit cultivator's department – one the internal palace guard already arrested- Lord Rhîwon fell silent. Placing the stylus upon its small leather pocket of the wax tablet, Thranduil gazed at him. The councilor looked to be a husk of his former self. "Those were all I saw last year, my lord. I did not attend the meeting nor know its significance. I only went…went to retrieve…" he began as the elvenking rose. "…ion-nin." Placing a hand on the shoulder of the shaking ellon, Thranduil whispered, "I believe you." This set off another set of tears. The elvenking did not have it in his heart to tell the still Lord of the Worker's Council what Legolas informed him. As a final humiliation, the guards left both Guilin and Aravar to rot without fire or burial. It would only break the councilor further.

When he left a few minutes later, telling Lord Rhîwon he was free to return to his chambers, he found Vain Glossien arguing with her father. A simply raise of the brow from the elvenking stopped both father and daughter's bickering but did not keep the bemused expression from Lady Colleth's face. Thranduil turned to his minister of Justice for explanation, the wax tablet in his hand.

"Lord Alagos is….questioning who his daughter has set her eyes upon," the minister of Justice supplied. Vain Glossien had the good grace to look down while Lord Alagos sulked behind the king.

Holding out the wax tablet with the names of the conspirators etched inside for Vain Glossien, Thranduil mused, "I understand it is either Lord Eregdon or that lovely ellon in archives." Glossien looked shocked upon taking the tablet from her king. It seemed with the latter of the two, Thranduil had hit his mark. Legolas had mentioned something of it as part of the idle court gossip to pass the night a few months back. Turning to walk back up to his chambers to rest, he added, "I believe his name is Linron."

Behind him, the elvenking heard Lord Alagos actually sputter while Lady Colleth came to walk slightly behind the king and get away from the chaos Thranduil was leaving in his wake. "A….a…Silvan paper pusher?!" the military affairs minister screeched. The elvenking smiled. He would finally get some sleep while his chief of internal investigations had to deal with her father.

Chapter End Notes

I'm sorry for all the OC's! I hate having to add so many but, really, the mythos of the Mirkwood is so underdeveloped for Tolkien. Luckily, a lot of the random names probably won't appear again. I mean, half of them are traitors to the crown and will probably be left to rot/fade in the various dungeons around the palace.

I promise the gwinig will be back in the next chapter! It will probably (finally!) be a bit fluffy too. I mean, the great warrior elvenking and his son, one of the greatest archers in all of Arda, are going to talk to an interior designer about a nursery for a baby girl. There is no way that can be anything other than pure fluff, right? Turns out, the characters might have different ideas...