Planning

Chapter Summary

In this chapter, Legolas steams, Galion smirks, and there are plots afoot!

Chapter Notes

I absolutely love all the kudos and comments! Thank you so much! They really make my day!

This chapter was supposed to be fluffy and...isn't. Once I started writing, it did not want to be fluffy. I mean, Thranduil was all for the fluff but Legolas was...not.

Really bad elvish translations you'll need for this chapter:

tûr - Master of a craft or ability

aphadon/Ephedyn - "followers" aka us. Silly little mortal humans.

Ilúvatar - Eru/God.

Aran - king

Caun - Prince

Nin - my/mine

kine - probably not a proper Sindarin word but it is a Tolkien concept; it's a bovine. Probably based off the extinct Aurochs.

I *think* that's all the terms beyond gwinig or elleth/ellon that might pop up. If I have forgotten one, feel free to point it out in the comments. I realized I spelled Telian wrong earlier and went back and corrected that. Whoops! Also, purpure - that's actually an early modern English word for the Tyrian dyes that were so expensive, various countries made various laws on them in the middle ages and renaissance.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 5: Planning

The scene before Thranduil is not one he had seen outside of some of the festivals, for none would dare other than during some merrymaking. He stood at the threshold of his son's apartments where they were to take the midday meal together, arms crossed with a bemused expression. Legolas, just beyond a set table in the middle of his sitting room, stood along with three Silvan ellith cooing and giggling over him.

No, that was not correct. They were all at least pretending to be taken in not by his son himself, but by the small elfling he held in his arms. Legolas, Thranduil noticed, smiled and laughed at the ellith but only looked warmly down at the tiny creature in his arms. None had yet to notice the elvenking's entry to the prince's chambers. Getting to witness his son thus was a rare treat for him.

"The poor little thing!" one of the ellith exclaimed as she reached for the babe. The elvenking raised a brow as the same elleth looked upon his son, her fingers getting dangerously close to the prince's chest.

"What chance it was for you to find her, my lord!" another cried, blushing prettily when Legolas' eyes turned to her. Oh yes, this was a rare treat indeed for Thranduil to see his son receiving such attention.

"Tell us again how you…" the third began, gently tugging on the prince's arm. She made as if to get a better view of the gwinig but a glance of her eyes and a slight movement to get even closer to the prince told a very different tale.

"Your majesty!" the second elleth blurted, having just seen the elvenking at the threshold. All the ellith jumped back a respectable distance from Legolas who seemed quite oblivious to their attentions. Their heads now bowed before their king, the chambermaid and kitchen assistants, Thranduil believed, looked now demure.

Striding into the room, Legolas turned his smile from the gwinig to his father. "Adar," the prince said in greeting as he bounced the tiny bundle in his arms.

"Ion-nin," the elvenking responded, drawing nearer to his son, the babe, and the three ellith. Legolas was too absorbed in the babe to notice his father's expression much.

As one of the ellith started to shake as a leaf in the wind under Thranduil's gaze, another nervously looked to the exit. None spoke nor took their leave for it was drilled into to all that served the royal chambers that they are to remain invisible and only dare to speak if spoke to. They are only to bring the dishes or the linens and not tally. Still, the elvenking found it rather amusing to see the ellith paw over his son and none did Legolas give attention to; save the babe.

Rather than say anything, Thranduil circled the small congregation only to sit in one of the chairs near the table. He pointedly ignored the ellith. If they wished to fawn over his son, as long as his son did not return such attentions, the elvenking would say nothing.

Quickly, there was a flurry of activity and apologies from the kitchen assistants. The chambermaid nearly ran from the room. Legolas came to sit for the meal only to be stopped by a wave of the hand from his father. Technically, both hands.

"Allow me to take her," Thranduil voiced calmly. A look to his father's eyes and Legolas acquiesced with ease. It was clear to the prince his father needed the babe far more than he. Whilst Thranduil had been dealing with the guard this morn, Legolas had gone to assess each of the prisoners they currently had. There were 41 thus far if one did count the dead as well.

Not a great number when there were thousands of elves within the Greenwood but it was a disturbing amount. Many claimed to be innocent only for another of their co-conspirators to turn them in. So far, only seven of great many appeared to be of Beinion's inner circle.

The gwinig- Tauriel- looked up to the elvenking and snuggled closer to him only to grasp a wayward lock of his hair. She giggled and pulled with glee. The babe was far too young to form words, even for an elf. She had yet to even sit upright by herself and Thranduil did not think she would be ready for such for another few weeks. Looking down at her, he thought on this morn and knew that she was worth all that he and Legolas were doing to protect her.

It had been early in the morn, for the elvenking could not sleep well given the events of the day and the days prior. He had awoken his son and the two hatched a plan together - Thranduil knowing he could not accomplish all alone. The problem was a simple one; none could know that the tiny survivor of the kinslaying was of the House of Fëanor – it would be best that none knew there even was a kinslaying. The solution was more complicated.

While Thranduil did follow through with manipulating the memories of the guard, Legolas was the chief interrogator of the prisoners. For it was now known that not only did Beinion kill his cousin, the Lady Miluiel, but also planned to kill the King, his father. The only others allowed in the cells were Lady Colleth or Lord Alagos, neither of whom would not have their memories altered. Lady Siladhiel had taken the gwinig that morn and kept her with her family.

Legolas learned much but said nothing of yet to his father. The kitchen assistants came back with the food as Legolas took his seat. The midday meal began with a fish dish and root vegetables. It was becoming difficult for the prince to see a carrot and not automatically smile. The elvenking saw the plates and sighed slightly.

"Is…is the dish not your liking, your majesty?" one of the kitchenmaids inquired. The other was trying to meet the eyes of the prince.

"It is fine," Thranduil snapped accidentally. His son chuckled which only sent a glare in that direction. The elvenking was tired and, currently, could not look at carrots without thinking of the babe in his arms. Said babe babbled to him, bringing him out of his foul mood quickly. More gently, Thranduil continued, "Tell Lord Ethiron to not prepare carrots for the time being."

The kitchen assistant nodded with a bow. Both left quickly – the quieter one stealing one last glance at the prince- before leaving. Once gone, the only sounds were of the fireplace and of the gwinig making a range of noises from purring to peals of laughter.

"Do you believe you will mistake Tauriel's head for your luncheon plate?" Legolas teased. Again, the elvenking sent a half-hearted glare to his son. This time, he gave the gwinig his fingers to play with. She seemed to believe the rings were items for eating.

"It is your fault," Thranduil replied but there was no heat to his voice. He was too busy holding the babe.

A stretch of comfortable silence arose between the two ellyn. The prince began with his plate, not wishing for a cold meal. The elvenking, with one hand, managed to grab a few pieces of food from his own. He was studiously avoiding the carrots.

It was not until Legolas was half finished with his meal that Thranduil spoke again. "She is worth it," he breathed.

The prince did not question what the it was. He had dealt with the prisoners all morn and knew well what his father had had to do as well. Peering across the table towards the babe, a twitch of a smile appeared on Legolas' lips. "She is," he agreed as Tauriel retook the forgotten lock of his father's hair.

When the prince began to eat again, Thranduil added, "And Legolas?" The fork stopped halfway to Legolas' mouth as he looked back towards his father.

"Do not seduce the kitchen assistants or chambermaid," the elvenking began as he looked up. Gazing upon his son as he held the gwinig, Thranduil caught Legolas' creeping blush. "As much as I would wish for a child of yours, I believe this one," he held up a gleeful Tauriel, "will keep us quite busy for a while."

With both ellyn and the gwinig fed, the royals awaited Lainodron, tûr of the decorators for the interiors. Galion assured the elvenking and prince that the decorator came highly recommended from others in the court and that the tûr would be able to start on the babe's chambers immediately. As the king's chambers and prince's chambers were right next to each other in the royal apartments, both ellyn agreed to give up a room, or two in Thranduil's case, so that the elleth would be between them and secure. This was a temporary solution until the gwinig was grown enough to have her own apartments. In the back of his mind, the elvenking tried not to think on the Queen's apartments as a possible future residence for the gwinig of high bloodlines. Those rooms were kept shut.

While the royals sat idly on the sofa within the prince's chambers, Galion informed them of various upcoming appointments, activities, the latest wines to arrive from the lands further south, and of the various applications for the nursemaid position. It was the last that caught both royals' attention. The babe lay on the cushion between the two ellyn, investigating her toes and trying to roll when she believed neither royal was paying attention to her.

"Of those that have applied, I have set up interviews for seven of them this afternoon, my lords," the butler informed them.

"Lady Siladhiel mentioned earlier we may wish to ask an aphadon woman as well," Legolas mentioned while the picture of ease. His right arm rested on the back of the sofa, propping up his head. His left hand currently was playfully grasping the gwinig's feet.

Thranduil turned to his son, and look of puzzlement on his features. Galion said nothing but awaited what more his prince would say. "Why would we need a mortal to care for an elfling?" the elvenking asked his son.

Only Legolas' head moved to gaze upon his father. "She is concerned that the gwinig may not get all she needs from the goat's milk or the soften breadcrumbs we can feed her," the prince stated matter of factly. "The healer is sure there are women among the Ephedyn who could suckle Tauriel so she might grow as best she can." Legolas watched both his father and Galion's faces. Galion seemed to be slightly confused about the idea while Thranduil at least pondered it.

"This is done among the mortals?" the elvenking asked. If Siladhiel felt the child needs more as she grew than what could be supplied through goat and grain, then it might be wise to turn to a nursing mother. However, among the elves, there were few nursing mothers and none that Thranduil would wish to care for the child. He wished to keep her hidden for now; there were still kinslayers about and loyalties were tested at best. Stealing a child out of the apartments would be far too easy for a caretaker of the gwinig, and many would be corrupted for greed to do as such – unknowing that they handed her to death. As the Ephedyn were also children of Ilúvatar, they may be able to care an elfling as well. A mortal may not be so caught up in elvish politics.

Legolas only shrugged his shoulders before they all three heard a knock upon the door. The three sets of grown eyes turned to that direction – the elvenking's right hand and his son's left on Tauriel so she could not roll off the edge of the sofa while they were not looking directly upon her. Galion took his place near the door as Lainodron strode in.

The first thing Thranduil thought upon seeing this particular ellon was simply that those who had dared to call the elvenking pompous and ostentatious had never before seen such theater as Lainodron commanded. Behind the tûr were a half dozen assistants carrying various fabrics and books, trims and tapes, of all colors but only the richest of fibers. Lainodron himself was wide for an elf, his silk cassock belted with a rare purpure velvet belt a bit too tight around his middle. The boots upon his feet with embroidered in bright threads and looked to be of white kine leather. His dark hair was braided back at the sides in the typical Silvan fashion. What wasn't normal about it was how slicked back it was with perfumed oils reeking from him.

Legolas looked confused by the circus that followed the tûr of decorators. Thranduil raised his brow not at the ellon in question, but at Galion for allowing as such before the elvenking. The butler lowered his head slightly in either amusement or mortification as he cleared his throat before speaking.

"Aran-nin," Lainodron interjected before Galion could speak. Turning to the prince, the decorator held his false joyful manner of speech, "Caun-nin!" With that, the large ellon put a hand over his heart and gave an exaggerated bow. The tûr's entourage bowed lower behind him in the direction of the royals. Thranduil's eyes narrowed while Legolas looked on even further confused.

"Hîr-nin," Galion began, looking quite irked at this tûr's lack of manners and decorum. The decorator turned to the butler with a pleasant smile plastered on his face. "May I introduce Lainodron from the artisan guild? He is here to discuss possible plans for the gwinig's rooms," the butler specified.

Giving a slight shake of the head as if the decorator found such introductions ridiculous, he smiled at the two royals and clasped his hands together. "And just where is this precious creature?" he asked. That got Galion. You do not speak to either the prince nor the elvenking especially unless you are directed to do so. Thranduil held up a hand to Galion as the butler bristled.

Legolas picked up Tauriel in her pretty but simple tan wool gown with pink embroidery. Immediately, the decorator gushed. "Oh, just look at that hair! And those ears!" Lainodron exclaimed. "Why, she does look like a carrot out of the garden!"

There was something wrong in that. While Legolas happily called the gwinig a carrot, his teasing was out of affection. Even the other guards had taken it up as an epessë for the gwinig but in a fond manner. This decorator saying it made it sound common and vile. The prince's eyes turned cold towards Lainodron, who did not seem to notice. However, both Galion and Thranduil did.

The decorator then had the audacity to reach for the child the prince held. A part of Legolas wished to fight this swollen elf, another part wished to see what the gwinig would do at being handed over. She may not yet speak but she knew well how to make her thoughts known when it came to others. Poor Captain Feren was a prime example of that.

Galion's jaw may have dropped a tad when the prince handed Tauriel over. The butler quickly recovered, however. Thranduil was awaiting the gwinig's verdict on this pompous ellon as much as his son was.

A sickening sweet but lazy smile grazed the tûr's face as he looked down at the small elleth he held. Legolas already began his count the moment his hands left Tauriel's chubby little frame. One..t…

She did not even give the small squeak of notice that the prince had become accustom to. Tauriel immediately screeched as if it were an orc that held her and not a fellow elf. Tears streamed down her tiny pale face by the time Thranduil pried her back. Seeing her king, the tiny elleth immediately calmed but looked so sorrowful, the elvenking wondered briefly if he should call some judgement on this ellon himself. Too bad the dungeon was nearly full.

With both royals now near glaring at him and the small hiccupped blubbering of the gwinig, the decorator finally seemed to appreciate the heaviness of the room. He stammered as he bowed his head, "I apologize, my lords. I do not what I did to cause the child to react as thus." Anyone else, including Captain Feren, Legolas would have laughed it off. However, the presumptuous manner this tûr of decorators has already behaved in made him ill favored by the prince already.

Thranduil's face corrected first. He put on his mask of indifference as he slowly strolled around the sofa, the small babe cradled in his arms. "She is very particular," the elvenking gave the ellon before his eye's flashed back to the decorator's assistants. They all still held their heavy bolts of fabrics and other loads while slightly bowed. Even the elvenking himself did not demand so much from his servants. This also made Thranduil displeased with the Silvan ellon.

Rounding the decorator, the elvenking came to stand behind him. "Please, take your ease," he informed the decorator's assistants. They all appeared to be confused for a moment before at least straightening. A couple were even brave enough to place their burdens upon one of the tables in the prince's chambers.

Walking towards one elleth who was fair of face with light brown hair, Thranduil fingered a bolt of fabric she carried. It was fine silk of bright mint and silver threads. Lovely, but nothing he would ever consider for a nursery. "Why do you carry these, my dear, rather than a book of swatches?" the elvenking asked her. The poor elleth looked nervously to the decorator. Thranduil could feel Lainodron boring holes at his back. Good. If anyone could give this pompous wannabe a good dose of medicine, it was the ill tempered elvenking himself.

"Aran-nin, I…I am but a mere assistant to tûr Lainodron," she stammered. "I only do as he bids."

"As he bids?" Thranduil trolled as he stood near the elleth, the babe in his arms now quiet and curled up against the elvenking's chest.

"Yes, aran-nin," she began. Then, as if rehearsed or as if a phrase told far too many times that it must be truth, she continued, "He is the greatest of the decorating artisans in your kingdom. It is an honor to work for him."

"Indeed?" he rhetorically asked as he rounded the poor elleth. The other assistants just appeared glad they weren't under the scrutiny of the elvenking. Lainodron had straightened his posture when she answered, clearly puffed up on her praise. However, the next words from the elvenking's mouth squashed his inflated sense of self.

"Then why does he make such lovely ellith and ellyn stand cowering behind him, carrying such heavy loads when not even a sixth of this amount is necessary and most certainly not for a nursery," he more stated than inquired. "Such honor as you praise him for should not be through works of his hands but also in how he treats those that help him with those works, should it not?" the elvenking questioned.

"My lord, I assure you that each of my assistants…" the decorator started only to find not the elvenking demanding his attention, but the prince.

"You have been given no such leave as of yet to address my father directly," Legolas simmered. Galion sniggered slightly from still near the doors and covered it with a cough. While many feared the King, it was the Prince who was quicker to act beyond words on his anger. It was simply harder to anger Legolas than it was Thranduil; once you did, you would never again forget exactly whose child he was.

Turning now to the prince, Lainodron had the good grace at least to bow to prince. It was clearly an effort to salvage what he could of this first meeting. "My apologies, caun-nin."

While Thranduil stayed near the elleth who clutched at the bolts of fabric in her arms, he spoke quietly to her, gathering her opinion on fabrics and furnishings for the nursery. The prince, still on the other side of the sofa from all others, narrowed his eyes on the decorator. "It is my father you need apologize too!" Legolas near roared. The slightest corner of Galion's mouth arose.

Turning, the decorator bowed to Thranduil. "Forgive me, your majesty," Lainodron appealed to the elvenking. Thranduil pointedly ignored him and continued his conversation with the elleth – who had now left her burden on a rather lovely credenza and was showing the elvenking which fibers she would choose for the gwinig's chambers.

After a second, the decorator started to stand back up only for Galion to raise an eyebrow at him. Realizing the error this time, Lainodron continued to bow, awaiting the elvenking's permission to be at ease. He waited a minute and a minute more. Just when the overstuffed ellon thought he could hold his position no more, Thranduil waved him to rise. Now, not just one of his assistants, but three dared to engage with the elvenking.

Although the decorator was given leave to rise, he was not given leave to speak or even move, much. The remaining three who were still watching him and not speaking or even laughing with the elvenking, were all very nervous. Lainodron could make or break you in the artisan world. If you came under his tutelage, you did not dare take the slightest hints of liberties around him. Far too many elves had been forced to reconsider their livelihoods due to his displeasure. However, as his assistants were now seeing, there were still others above their tûr who could easily command the decorator around.

"There is a line between delegation of responsibilities and ignoring that you have any," Legolas weighed, his anger broiling before the surface. The prince had come to stand next to the decorator, both watching Thranduil as he fingered fabrics and spoke with the two ellith and the one ellon who were brave enough to approach him. Galion leaned back against the wall, watching the show the royals – and even the gwinig- were putting on.

Lainodron turned to look at the prince, his jaw clenched. "You appear to have crossed that line," Legolas continued. When the decorator opened his mouth to speak, the prince shouted, "Silence! I have heard enough from you already!"

The sudden outburst from the prince caused the chatter to die where Thranduil stood. However, he quickly rectified this by ignoring his son and asking more questions on a fairly lovely sheer baby blue linen compared to a similarly sheer silk with white embroidery.

"You did not await a command to enter my apartments and you did not wait to be introduced. You did not show any courtesy to your assistants in forcing them to bear heavy loads of useless items when a book of swatches and one for notes would have easily done. I have seen all I need know of you and I will see no more. Leave," Legolas growled. He wanted nothing more to do with this glutted elf.

Gathering what little dignity Lainodron had left, he bowed to the prince and then to the elvenking – who was still ignoring him- before making his way to the doors. Galion was all too happy to knock on them for the internal guards to open and allow the decorator out. His assistants quickly followed, each regathering their burdens and bowing to both the royals – and even Galion in their nervousness- before leaving the prince's chambers.

Once the doors were closed again, Galion immediately started to apologize himself. "I did not meet with him in person but only sent word for him to come on the recommendations of several of the courtiers. I truly…" he began until Thranduil waved his free hand as if to brush all this off.

"I do not hold it against you, Galion," the elvenking stated as he came to stand next to his son. Legolas still burned with pint up rage. His son had a very clear view of right and wrong; of manners befitting ones rank, and of doing what was good for the sake of goodness. Lainodron had violated all of this in a matter of minutes.

"Go," Thranduil whispered to his son. "Find a sparing partner or to the range," he specified. Realizing the value in his father's design, he nodded his head and took towards the range. The prince needed to burn off his anger. However, before he left the room, Legolas heard his father say to Galion, "The tûr's assistants; make sure that they are brought back to work on the room. The elleth Mallowen has particularly good insight into what will be needed."

Galion gave a short nod to his king. "Lainodron is still the tûr of the decorators, my lord. He may make it difficult for her or the others to work without him," the butler reminded him. It certainly wasn't the first time someone of authority attempted to make life difficult for any that crossed him or her – Thranduil was guilty of that himself. Though, normally, even the elvenking would give leave after a few decades or so.

Sipping at a wine goblet in one hand and with the babe still in his other arm, Thranduil smiled down at her. "If you hear of anything, alert me," the elvenking bade his butler. Galion gave a nod of affirmation before turning to the doors of the prince's apartments. He would inform the assistant herself and see if the other two that spoke with the king would wish to join her.

As the butler moved to leave the prince's apartments, Thranduil added, "Also, Lady Siladhiel's idea." Galion stilled at the door, awaiting the rest of what his king had to say. "Yes, my lord?"

"Look into it. I will not have the child be bereft of anything due to all that was taken from her," the elvenking continued. Galion smiled slightly as he saw his king playing with the elfling in his arms.

"Yes, my lord." And with that, Galion took his leave.

Later that evening

Lavish was the word most commonly used to describe Lainodron's home. He lived just outside the halls, in a thatched roofed home of wood and stone, stucco on the outside that had been painted in a fashionable orange. He might paint it red next solar year.

Inside, the house had the choicest fabrics for drapery and cushion with rugs of either fur or treasures from the east. Next to his fireplace – covered in expensive tiles- the tûr of the decorators stewed in his seat. He had never been treated so terribly nor had everything gone wrong so quickly! How dare king and prince dismiss him so readily! At least his patron, whom sat across from him, was trying to help him for the situation.

"It's simply the way they are," his patron continued while sipping tea. "They do not see value in what long years of honest labor have brought about. Rather, they sit within those palace walls and…" the noble only stopped to sigh. Reaching for the decorator's hand – which Lainodron gave- his patron then smiled slightly. "Forgive me. I think only of my troubles with them and not of your own."

"There is nothing to forgive," the tûr effused. "Now with that little bat eared goblin they treat like a princess," he grumbled. "It may be three you will be forced to deal with and not two. And she's not even of their blood!"

The noble smiled. "It is a sad thing indeed to see them take in such a creature," his patron agreed. "Was she as common looking as the rumors say?"

"Hideous little thing with a scrunched-up face, bat like ears that were too big for her head, and red hair that will never go with any fashionable colors as of late," he groused before taking his own cup of tea.

Pausing, his patron looked to him, "Red hair?"

A slight smirk came from Lainodron as he thought on the creature he held for a moment before the little goblin ruined his day. "Looked like they shaved a fox and stuck that pelt on her head," the Silvan decorator informed the noble.

"Indeed? The poor little thing," his patron quipped. "One can't help such inferior genetics," the noble continued. However, a glint in his patron's eye had the decorator actually laughing. Lainodron knew the noble far too well after the past couple hundred years to even begin to think that his patron actually held any sympathy for the survivor of the massacre at Solchbar. No, there was no sympathy for that goblin but his patron may have a plan to help him mitigate any fallout from today.

Chapter End Notes

...don't hate me. I know. That's a horrible way to end a chapter. I'm sorry.