Torn

Chapter Summary

Tauriel speaks! Thranduil smirks! And the noble burns stuff.

Chapter Notes

...I'm still giddy from writing this chapter. I think it came out well. (I'll probably re-read it tomorrow and realize I forgot prepositions, messed up the endings of words, or other grammatical mistakes that make me cringe.) Let me know in the comments what you think!

Really bad elvish:

badhorbar - it means House of Judges...not a strip club.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 9: Torn

Thranduil was busy looking over scrolls and documents, trying to keep up with the general business of the kingdom and not focus solely on the kinslaying of Gwanweth. It may have helped his concentration, or at least his mood, to have wrestled a certain gwinig away and hold her while reviewing the never-ending paperwork. She was just big enough now to sit up with only a slight hint of support. For that reason, he had her upon a cushion on his lap so she could see what the elvenking was doing.

The tiny red-head – her hair now showing the slightest hint of soft curls- was a bundle of energy today. Thranduil was pleased with the improvements he was seeing in the gwinig's coloring and vitality. She had never been ill, per se, but it was clear she was going without before Rohesia came to help the royal ward. Tauriel was currently making all sorts of nonsense sounds and beating her tiny palms against the wooden surface of his desk. "Gah! Gah!" she would exclaim only to laugh. Looking up at the elvenking, she fell back against his chest with a gummy smile.

"Is that so?" he asked her as he continued with his replies and correspondences that laid upon his desk. It wasn't that Thranduil expected any sort of answer. He simply knew that if an elfling was to learn how to speak, you must speak to them.

"Ehe boo ada!" the tiny creature replied, stopping Thranduil from writing out a personal missive to Lord Elrond.

Looking down at the gwinig in his lap, who had fallen back and was currently giggling as she held her toes, he inquired, "What did you say?"

"Ah-da! Ada!" Tauriel giggled and reached up towards the elvenking's awed face.

He carefully moved the gwinig to cradle her in his arms, his writings completely forgotten. It did not matter that he was not her father in blood; Sarmo is the one that helped to create the tiny elfling. The moment Thranduil agreed to take her on as his ward – much to his son's delight- he knew he also agreed to raise her as his own. He would be her father since her's was taken from her.

"Yes, little one?" he asked quietly. Tauriel just gave him another gummy grin while repeating "Ada" a few more times.

Gently, he touched the side of her face. "Yes, I suppose I am now."

Legolas found his father a few minutes later at his desk in his apartment, with Tauriel babbling on his lap. The prince stood in the doorway, leaning against it while he watched the great elvenking of the Greenwood holding a conversation with a gwinig. Truly, his father was writing out various documents while Tauriel, barely able to see over the edge of the desk, would seem to point to something and babble a string of noises that sounded like a question.

"Oh, no, I don't believe so, Tauriel," Thranduil answered before continuing on in his writings.

The babe slapped her palm against the surface of the desk, "Gah!"

"While I agree, I do not think ion-nin might," the elvenking responded with the slightest hint of a smile. He knew his son was there, watching.

Straightening, Legolas tugged at his tunic before moving towards his father and the Lady Tauriel. "It seems I have been replaced," the prince teased.

Thranduil raised only a brow at that but did not pause in his writings. "If you wish to take some of these documents, you were already trained to do so over an eon passed," the elvenking began before finishing what he was writing and looking to his son. "She does not yet understand how the kingdom works and needs further instruction," he declared.

Coming up to the desk and sitting on the edge, despite his father's look of misgivings about it, Legolas reached out with one hand to the gwinig. He was mindful of the inkwell and not to interrupt his father's writing hand. "And what has she learned today?" the prince asked.

"That documents are not for eating," the elvenking mused as he thumbed the corner of a list dedicated to what positions needed to be filled given the current situation. He was currently writing to Lady Siladhiel regarding any recommendations from the healer's gardens to the Agricultural ministry. Those that kept the gardens for the healing halls worked closely with both ministries and he would rather have someone who he trusted completely to advise him on this matter. Granted, he could simply ask her but writing was considered the more formal and polite way to request such.

Legolas chuckled as Tauriel batted at his fingers. It took a moment but the prince noticed a change come over his father as the elvenking fingered the corners of the documents on his desk. "Ada?" the prince asked. Thranduil thrust Tauriel into Legolas's arms before standing, the cushion for the elfling falling to the floor, and quickly checking the corner of each document on his desk.

"Ada!" Tauriel exclaimed much to Legolas' shock. Thranduil turned his head only to smile briefly at the gwinig who was watching him and then go back to looking at each corner.

"I'm looking for…this," the elvenking stated. He pulled out the court cases list from the other day. He had meant to compile the listings and check off a couple of cases he wished to review. It was more for information on what was happening in his kingdom than it was to inspect the Justice department itself. Still, he had not thrown this one away or used it yet as kindling in the fireplace.

Legolas was half in awe at the babe in his arms and half questioning his father. He didn't know which to start with.

"Yes," Thranduil helped, as he gently touched the side of the gwinig's face, much to her delight. "She has learned to say 'ada'." Legolas grinned but it quickly fell as he looked to the document in his father's hand.

"The corner piece found in Gwanweth's cell?" the prince asked and he held Tauriel a bit tighter.

Thranduil nodded once. The letter and a half of his memory matched perfectly to the word badhorbar.

"The problem is that it could have been left by any of the investigators or archivists as well. Someone who carelessly handled the document and tracked the corner to the kinslaying," Thranduil pondered aloud.

"The bauble is the harder evidence," Legolas muttered unhappily. It still didn't narrow down their pool of suspects as much as he would like.

"Still, this may help Vain Glossein's department," the elvenking mentioned as he rolled his copy of the judicial court listings. "Keep Tauriel with you for now. Whoever this kinslayer is, they are likely still after her. Neither Rohesia nor Angreneth are skilled fighters," the elvenking ordered before he made his way out of his apartments.

Perhaps the head of investigations could help narrow down who this kinslayer might be with both the piece of paper and the bauble. There weren't many copies of the court lists made – one for an announcement board in the halls themselves, at least five for the Justice ministry, one to the badhorbar, one or two to the archives, and one here to the royal apartments. In total, there should be no more than ten. It could be possible to track down who received them, who made them, and who still has theirs. It may narrow the focus of where to look for the kinslayer if it was the kinslayer that brought it in. If the individual had both the bauble and access to the document, it would be an easier case against them. Legolas only hoped that no one else would die by the kinslayer's hands.

Galion brought Vain Glossien into the elvenking's informal sitting room. She had been here a few times before, normally with her father. Nodding in acknowledgment of Galion as she passed by him into the chambers, Glossien noticed three things. Mainly, King Thranduil, Prince Legolas, and a rather talkative Lady Tauriel. The head of the investigations bowed to the royal family, wondering why she was called. All Galion had mentioned was that the elvenking had requested her. More than that, Glossien didn't question.

"Vain Glossien," Thranduil announced with the babe in his arms.

"My lord?" she questioned, awaiting the reason for her being called.

"The piece of document you found in the cell, do you still have it on your person?" he inquired. Oh, that. She had followed procedures and handed it to the archivists to document before it would be given back and placed in the Justice ministry's own hold. For once, the hold or storage area was nearly filled. It was rare to have so many cases at once that would require more than a village or town moderator to deal with.

"No, my lord. I handed it over to the archivists to document," she stated simply. If he requested her to retrive it, she would do so happily. It would give her an excuse to see her beloved.

Thranduil grimaced and the Lady Tauriel became quiet, reaching for the elvenking's face. Glossien watched, slightly awed, to see the grimace melt immediately when he saw the gwinig watching him. Only Legolas ever seemed to have that ability before.

"When you receive it back from archives, please bring it here," the prince supplied. He was leaning against the back of the sofa, watching his father with the ward with a slight smile on his face.

"Of course, but may I ask why this change from procedure?" Glossien inquired, trying to make her curiosity as professional as possible. It had been just a small corner of a document, probably nothing at all. However, Gwanweth didn't have any documents in her room save a book for reading that did not match the corner found.

"I believe the corner to be from one of the court lists," the elvenking, this time, replied. Glossien cocked her head at that. The letters she recalled would work for the word badhorbar. Mentally, she ran down the list of individuals who might have received the list or had contact with it. Unfortunately, the pool was still wide for although there were only a few lists, they tended to pass through many hands; at least in the Justice Ministry. She could ask in Archives as well; yet another excellent excuse to go there.

"I understand, my lord. I shall bring the evidence as soon as I receive word that the archivists have documented it," Glossien gave.

Thranduil's mouth twitched, knowing that Vain Glossien would probably go to the Archives herself, under the guise of picking up the evidence on his orders. "That is all," the elvenking dismissed her.

Legolas, although he was technically the prince, he was also exceedingly polite on occasion. He stood when Vain Glossien bowed and knocked to have Galion open the doors so she could leave. It wasn't really that the doors were heavy – anyone could open them- it was part theater and part a way to keep from having multiple finger marks on the doorknobs.

"Oh, and Glossien?" the elvenking said to get her attention.

Turning, the head of investigations bowed again. "Yes, my lord?"

"Check if there are any merchants near the southwestern side of the market. I believe that is where I saw the sky blue silk, about the same color as the thread on the bauble," he offered as Thranduil continued to play with the babe in his arms.

"Yes, my lord," Vain Glossien acknowledged. It may be possible to create a list of individuals for each piece of evidence and cross compare them. Individually, the lists may be quite long. However, if the same names start popping up one each list? Perhaps this is a way to narrow down the suspect pool.

The noble stood in the courtyard of their home, hands behind their back in a relaxed gesture. However, there was little difference between the fire before their eyes and the fire in them. With each pop and crack of the small bonfire before the noble, their resolve strengthened. The pressure currently and suspicious was nearly as suffocating as the fire before them. Still, there was time. There was always time.

As the noble watched the previously rather lovely sky blue court garb turn to ash, they thought on all the reasons to continue. There were plenty of logical arguments to be made before Mandos himself, if need be. Give and take until Thranduil had taken too much and refused to give anymore. Humilate him. Force him to crawl. No matter how. Beinion's ideas regarding the kinslayers were simply a plan to leverage for what the noble wanted overall – Thranduil to have to give for once. For him to have to answer for his actions and words.

Another plan slowly formed in the noble's head. Yes, it would be necessary to still get rid of Nenneth and perhaps a couple of others lest they recall anything. Very few knew who else stood with Beinion.

Just as the noble considered how to go on to their next plan, a loud noise such as a door being thrown open and knocking items behind it to the floor, sounded from a chamber near the front of the courtyard. The scuttling of feet and suddenly, there stood the tûr of the decorators guild, Lainodron. He came skidding into the courtyard only to throw himself at the noble's feet.

"Please! You must help me!" he pleaded, grasping for one of the noble's hands. The noble jumped back at the sudden intrusion and denied their hand.

Looking at the bewildering scene before them and only half listening to the excuses of their personal guard for the home, the noble realized they could take this one of two ways: either give in to anger and throw Lainodron out or keep up the pretense of niceties and see if this ellon still had any worth to them.

Raising a hand only to gently stroke the side of the decorator's tear stained face, the noble inquired. "What on arda is the matter?"

"Please! The guild has called a quorum! After the disaster due to that little warg's whelp, the rest of the decorators are demanding a vote of confidence!" he wailed. The noble knew exactly who Lainodron meant by warg's whelp.

Slowly circling the ellon, the noble weighed their options. While the noble could intrude either convertly or overtly into the meeting the guild was no doubt having right now, how much use could the glorified merchant be? It wouldn't be terribly hard to find another that may be molded to give far too much information unknowingly simply by being in the homes of anyone who had the money to hire them. Still, the noble had poured two hundreds years of work into this one. Perhaps there was another way this ellon could still be of use?

Just when the noble decided to allow the decorator to survive this mess he created himself, the idiot of a tûr happened to catch a glance at the bonfire. There was still enough of the court garb to know exactly what it was and why it was being burned. The blood stains had proved too hard to remove from sky blue silk.

Lainodron's eyes went wide, looking at the noble in shock. "Y…yy..you?" he stammered as he pushed himself back and away now from the noble.

His former patron sighed. "Yes, me," the noble said as they slid out a dagger, concealed at all times in their sleeve. You never knew when you would need it.

Despite being fat for an elf, Lainodron was quick. The noble had to give him that much credit. When the dagger came down, the decorator managed to catch the noble's arm, deflecting the blade enough that it came down into his shoulder, rather than his neck.

Lainodron clawed at his former patron's arm, digging in with all his might. When the blade hit his collarbone, he screamed. Of course, so was the noble. The blade was now lodged in his shoulder, making his left arm next to useless.

His former patron held their arm, fingernail marks bleeding along the forearm. "You gluttonous goblin!" the noble shrieked as they held out the forearm for inspection. "How dare you try to attack me!"

The decorator, in more pain that he could ever recall, barely heard the insult. He struggled to his feet, knowing only that he had to get away. He had to leave. He would go to the elvenking himself and beg for mercy. The decorator would even happily put up with any punishment, so far as he lived.

The noble did not move. The fire in their eyes beheld Lainodron as he backed up, never thinking to look behind him. The noble's guard, one that had been in their employment for thousands of years, swung his blade right to left. The decorator's body slumped slowly back to the courtyard stones, his head sliding from his corpse and bouncing slowly before the noble's feet.

"Are you alright, my lady?" he asked.

The noble nodded. "I only need some of the tinctures in the cupboard," she breathed. Before saying another word, the guard came and near cradled her to his side, carefully taking her over to a nearby bench to sit.

"Wait here, my lady," he murmured before running off to grab the bandages and ointments. While the noble sat there, she looked at the body and pooling blood that glistened in the bonfire's glow. As the guard came back, she sighed. "My lady?" he worriedly inquired.

She held up the hem of her gown with the toe of her boot. "Now this dress is ruined too," she grumbled.

The guard smirked as he began to apply the ointment and bandages. "I'm sure we can find you another tomorrow," he informed her. There were always more dresses and baubles to appease his lady. Ever since she was barely more than an elfling, he would find a way to appease her. However, nothing ever satiated her broken heart.

Chapter End Notes

Okay, yes, not exactly a reveal but... Who do you think she is? Is it someone I've already introduced or one of the many other ladies of the court? :-)