Missing

Chapter Summary

Thranduil catches someone, Lord Rhîwon returns, and the decorator, Lainodron, gets dumped.

Chapter Notes

Really bad elvish for this chapter:

mellon - friend
hröa - body
echadhol - "skillfully decorated male bird" lit or, basically, a pompous peacock
ranga - a Tolkien measurement that is a bit over a yard but a little less than a meter at 38" or 96.5 cm
Daur - another Tolkien measurement that is about at three miles or almost five kilometers
Tûr - it means chief or head. For the purposes of this story, tûr is for those not of the nobility. Main (m) or Vain (f) means the same thing but I'm using them only for those of noble rank.
aphadon/ephadyn - "follower/followers" ie, us silly second born humans

I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. Tauriel isn't in it but well, there is plenty of other fun stuff. Please, let me know what you think! Thank you for the comments!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter 10: Missing

The elvenking was awaiting a report from the investigations department only to find that it was not with the documents Galion placed upon his desk. The corner document piece evidence indeed belongs to the court lists of a day prior to the murder of Gwanweth in her cell. Thranduil asked Vain Glossien to give him the list of possible suspects once the list she suggested was complied. It would be a list of names and the frequency they showed upon having possible contact with each item of evidence. She had promised it to him by mid-day. It was now near the evening meal and still no report had surfaced.

There were three ways he could inquire as to why such a list did not yet exist on his desk. One was to contact Lady Colleth, following proper procedure, and ask of her why the report from one in her ministry was not in his hands. Another was to be petty; quite petty if Thranduil were to admit- he could contact Lord Alagos instead. The head of investigation's father would no doubt have a word or several to say to her. Yet another way was to ask the elleth herself. While not by-the-book for him to seek out Vain Glossien, it wouldn't be unusual either.

Choosing to seek Glossien out rather than be petty or send Lady Colleth after her, Thranduil went directly towards the archives, wine goblet in hand. This was a new vintage Galion wished him to try. It wasn't bad but he still was unsure of it.

Strolling down the halls, Thranduil tried to pay no attention when elves of all ranks stopped to give him deference as he passed by. He simply sipped his wine and walked to the archive doors. The guards there fumbled slightly as they opened said doors- it wasn't often the elvenking himself visited this part of the halls and certainly not alone. He normally only came on official visits.

Entering the archives, the elvenking watched as several ellyn and ellith looked up in shock upon seeing their king enter the ministry. Still, it was getting late in the evening and there were hardly more than a handful of elves left at this point. The rest had already retired from their work for the day. Somehow, Thranduil heavily doubted that a certain head of investigations had. Or rather, that she had completely.

He hadn't asked where she was. Thranduil simply left his apartments and arrived here. He barely spared a passing glance to any of the poor ellyn or ellith he startled by walking by.

The archives were currently composed of ten stacks – chambers- that were each 96 ranga long and at least 6 ranga high though many were much taller than that. The stacks all had a multitude of shelves, each filled with documents dating back into the ages past. Thranduil would permit nothing to be lost. They had already lost so much after the fall of Beleriand. Knowledge of any sort, no matter how unsavory, needed to be saved. One never knew when it may actually come to be useful.

Truthfully, Lord Hallon, was worse about keeping everything. He took such a statement too literally and would keep the tally for the expenses to some of the ephandyn merchants in triplicate if Thranduil was not careful. He was unsure why he would need to know the price of flour three eons past nor, especially, of whom he paid coin to, but Lord Hallon viewed each document, all of the written word, as valuable as gold. It was the reason he had received his rank. Lord Hallon took the matter of preserving their history seriously – if a bit too seriously.

It was for this reason, it took a bit to find Vain Glossien for the stacks and the rows within them gave many an excellent hiding place. Something, his head of investigations was probably exploiting right now. Her father was rather quickly, for an elf, coming around to the idea of his daughter marrying what he considered beneath her station. Afterall, although she held the professional title of Vain, by birthright, she was still a Lady of the Court. This archivist she had her heart set upon had come from one of the western towns to the elvenking's halls a century or two past; the child of common wood-elves.

Approaching the area where the Justice ministry's latest case files were kept, Thranduil heard a breathless distinctly feminine moan. He stilled, raising one eyebrow before taking a sip of his goblet and continuing towards where the noise came from. Regardless of what was occurring – Lord Alagos would take a long time to forgive his daughter if she married without ceremony – the archive stacks were not the place for…romantic activity.

The sounds of what was clearly lips upon flesh and the ruffling of…papers? The shifting of a few boxes scraping across the wooden shelves lightly echoed down the rows. Turning to a row that was three rows from the very back of the stack and somewhat poorly lit, Thranduil witnessed Vain Glossien – thankfully still fully dressed- her head thrown back, eyes closed, as an ellon with golden brown hair suckled her neck. Her skirted knee was up and over the golden brown hair ellon's hip and his hands were clearly holding her up and against the stack.

Thranduil waited only a moment. Glossien or Linron would realize they were not alone shortly. He took another sip of his goblet when Glossien opened her eyes. She went from quite enjoying the attentions of her beloved to standing a few feet from him in a blink of an eye. Her own silvery blonde hair covered the increasing blush as she bowed her head before her king.

Linron was a bit slower on the uptake. He had been holding his love in his arms, enjoying her throaty moans, when she suddenly pushed away? What could…oh. He saw what exactly could cause her to pull away from him when he turned to see what she was looking at. The poor archivist quickly but nervously bowed before the elvenking.

Watching the matching blushes at being caught, Thranduil wanted to laugh. He remembered such moments himself many eons past. Tucking that painful memory away for now -though thoughts of his wife were never absent from his mind- he kept up his normal impassive demeanor. Another sip of his goblet and the elvenking finally greeted his head of investigations, "Vain Glossien."

"Your majesty," she murmured back, horribly embarrassed. She may have long since been given leave to use the less formal address of "my lord" to the elvenking but it was best to show upmost deference in this case. Being caught was bad enough. Being caught by the king? Horrible. The only thing worse would be being caught by her father.

Walking closer to the two elves, Thranduil looked from Glossien to Linron. Glossien was perfectly still, her silvery blonde hair covering her face as she bowed. The elleth was rarely…formal. She had near grown up with Legolas and given that she was Lord Alagos' daughter, the elvenking gave her leave to act in an informal manner that he would not tolerate from others. It was odd to see the top of her head from this particular angle. Linron also had his head bowed but, unlike his perfectly still beloved, he came off more as a deer looking for a way to bolt away from a mountain lion.

Another sip from his goblet. The wine was starting to grow on him. "You promised me the list of suspects at midday; it is nearly time for the evening meal," Thranduil informed her.

Going into full professional mode, the elleth straightened. "I gave it to the court runners not three hours prior, my lord," Glossien declared in a questioning tone.

Swirling the remaining wine in his goblet, the elvenking stilled. "Oh?" now that was interesting.

The elleth nodded before seeing her beloved out of the corner of her eye and quickly look down at her hands. Linron turned and was quickly fingering through some documents on the shelf. "Perhaps it is still with my deputy in investigations? It is possible the runners took it to my office, my lord," Glossien offered.

"Perhaps," Thranduil allowed before Linron gasped slightly. Both Vain Glossien and the elvenking watched as the archivist pulled out a scroll, sealed recently with both the Archives and Justice ministry stamps, smiling. The ellon held out the scroll with one hand on it's base, the other supporting it from underneath, for the elvenking to take.

"This is the copy, your majesty," the golden brown haired ellon offered with a bow.

A quick brow raise, Thranduil took the offered scroll and broke the seals. It was the list Vain Glossien promised. Nodding once in thanks to the Silvan, the elvenking turned to leave with the document. He only stopped upon hearing a murmur from Linron to Glossien, "That was close."

"Vain Glossien?" Thranduil called to her.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Do invest in higher necked gowns for now if you do not wish for your father to discover your….extracurricular activities," the elvenking offered.

Her hand immediately flew to where Linron had been well, not exactly kissing her exactly… "Yes, my lord," she muttered, horrified.

"And Linron?" Thranduil spoke next to the archivist.

"Y…yes, your majesty?" he stuttered. The poor Silvan was not only nervous in front of his king but nervous at being caught with his beloved in front of his king.

Holding up the scroll, the elvenking spoke, "Thank you for this. However, it may do well in the future to…engage your hopefully soon to be intended in less public a space."

The golden brown haired ellon blushed a deep red and could only offer a grunt in response.

Walking away while sipping the last of his wine – perhaps another bottle for the evening meal? He would like Legolas' thoughts on this particular vintage- Thranduil gave them one last bit of advice. "The door to the smaller courtyard on the upper terrace is easily barred." With that, the elvenking returned to his apartments, trying to sober his thoughts so he did not laugh at the couple. He would not tell Lord Alagos. After already calling her out during the interrogation of Lord Rhîwon, it would be nice to be back within the head of investigation's good graces.

The world passed slowly if it passed at all. Day. Night. Lord Rhîwon was unsure of the time or the season anymore. He sat, his woody dark auburn hair half tangled, his clothes wrinkled and at least a day old. Perhaps two. It wasn't something that occurred to matter to him anymore.

He glanced back to the bed. The lord sat upon its edge. His lady, his beautiful bright light, slept fitfully in it. She slept most of the time now. Edlenniel was close to fading and, in truth, so was he.

His son. Their son. How long had they worked to give their son everything they possibly could? All the material goods and even education were just to give their son the best they possibly could in life. Rhîwon worked as a carpenter originally. He had worked his way up through the trades, learning all he could about politics and trade. He found he had a knack for getting people to the table to agree on exchanges of goods. He thought about going to the emissary ministry and seeing if they would hire him at least to help with the deals out to the closer ephandyn settlements. Instead, the then head of the Worker's Council swept him up and gave him a position to negotiate between the guilds.

That had been in another age. As elves left for the undying lands, to go live outside the halls, or…or the Halls of Mandos, Lord Rhîwon made his way up to the Worker's Council itself. It was about then that Rhîwon met Edlenniel. They married quickly. When he was made the head, the elvenking had made him a lord in his own privy council. It was then that their son, Aravor was born. The world seemed perfect then.

But the world was not perfect and now their son was gone. He looked down to his pale hand and…stirred. His son? Their son? Letting orcs attack civilians? As arrogant and lacking in empathy that Aravor could be at times, he was not purposefully cruel – not without a logical reason. That he joined with traitors to...form a coup? To take over the throne? To what end? What was there that Lord Rhîwon or Lady Edlenniel had not given their son? He had position, wealth, …. Vaguely, Lord Rhîwon recalled King Thranduil mentioning Lady Miluiel's daughter, Glorindis. Had his son fallen for her? Had Aravar even mentioned her? Was this all for love of an elleth he could not have? It was not as if that had not happened before. Which son of Fëanor was it that professed his love for an elleth he could not have?

No, this was not a simple coup. There was something else here. Something his half fogged grief riddled brain could not see.

"My lord?" a servant called to him from the door. He glanced up slightly and heard his wife stir behind him.

"My lord, it's Tûr Alphorn," the servant began, wringing a dishtowel in his hands as he spoke. Even getting his lord to raise his head was an improvement from yesterday. Neither the lady nor the lord showed much interest in the world. The household knew, both were in danger of fading.

"He wishes to see you. He claims it is urgent, my lord," the servant stressed – praying his lord might be roused even a bit more. If they could even get him to stand, to do more than take a bit of porridge mechanically, then, maybe, he wouldn't leave for the Halls of Mandos with his son.

Lord Rhîwon said nothing. He sat there, unmoving still. After a few moments, the servant turned to go back and tell Tûr Alphorn it was useless. Neither the lord or his lady would be moved. Just as the servant made it back out to the hall and opened his mouth to speak, he saw Tûr Alphorn…smile. A true, brilliant smile. That startled the servant. What startled him more was that he felt someone approach him from behind.

Lord Rhîwon stood there. His tunic was half open and wrinkled. His woody auburn hair looked more akin to a squirrel's nest, dull and tangled. However, the lord stood and there was a spark to his eyes.

"I would not bring you news lest it be of importance, my lord," Tûr Alphorn imparted. Though the situation was serious, he could not keep the smile from his face, the joy from his voice - Lord Rhîwon was at least standing. That was better than the other few times he had stopped by. It was an improvement Alphorn was more than willing to take right now.

Grunting, Lord Rhîwon moved to go passed his servant and into the main hall only to stumble. His servant caught him but Alphorn quickly came to his other side. Looking to the servant, the tûr of the woodworkers commanded, "Get him a plate. Whatever is available now; grapes, fruit, cheeses; I care not!"

Lord Rhîwon's eyes narrowed a bit in confusion as his servant ran off, almost in glee, and his right side now felt like a falling weight. Softly, Alphorn whispered to his mellon, "I will explain as you eat, my lord." More carrying Lord Rhîwon than helping him to walk, Tûr Alphorn lead them to the study and guided his mellon to a chair.

A plate, topped high with a variety of cold foods to eat from cheeses and fruit to bits of bread with jams and butter, arrived in haphazard haste. The servant also carried a bottle of his lord's favorite wine and two of the finer goblets. "Is there anything else, my lord?" the servant asked. He was unsurprised when he did not get a response and turned to Tûr Alphorn instead. The ellon smiled but shook his head. They needed nothing more.

Once the servant left, Tûr Alphorn looked to his mellon again. "Eat and I shall speak to you of the news I bear," he bargained.

A bit of scrunching at the eyes, Lord Rhîwon's hand slowly moved to grab a bit of bread. Once Tûr Alphorn was sure his lord was actually going to have substance, he began. "Tûr Lainodron is missing, my lord," Tûr Alphorn might have said with a bit too much glee – not all of it due to a slight facial reaction from Lord Rhîwon. The tûr of the decorators – now former as of the quorum last evening- was not well liked among those in the Worker's Council at any level. Those upon the Council itself barely put up with him though none even considered giving him a position upon it. He may have been the tûr of the decorators but he would have no say in how any other of the departments were run.

"…Miss-ing?" Lord Rhîwon questioned as he took an apple to eat.

Tûr Alphorn beamed at hearing the raspy sound of Lord Rhîwon's voice. "Yes, my lord. The decorators finally took action to remove him from office," the tûr of the woodworkers added. It had been a sight to behold. Ellon and elleth, one after the other, came forth and shared their stories of how Lainodron silenced them or forced them out of their chosen field with threats and intimidation. The stories chilled Tûr Alphorn and he had already called to have a thorough investigations into all of Lainodron's actions and business dealings. Still, the council itself needed their leader – the elvenking had not taken Lord Rhîwon off of his privy council- and needed to appraise him of what was occurring.

Lord Rhîwon shot him a questioning glance. "The stories differ but the catalyst to his final call for removal appears to be due to a gwinig's crying – specifically, the ward of the king's crying when Lainodron was confronted with the tiny Lady," Tûr Alphorn informed him before pouring a bit of wine for both of them and taking a sip. "King Thranduil was far less than pleased," Tûr Alphorn added. One story went as far as to say that the elvenking, in a fit of ill temper, tossed the decorator out on his ear quite literally and forced him to carry back all his goods himself at the point of Narlugil. That did not seem plausible but it made for some humorous mental imagery.

It was a long moment before Lord Rhîwon spoke again. The only thing that held Tûr Alphorn's tongue was the near comical looks upon his lord's face as he clearly was deep in thought. Alphorn only made sure to push certain foods to his mellon and keep him eating.

A babe? What gwinig? The elvenking took in a ward? Since when did that occur? Thranduil did not seem the type to take on a ward unless it were for the sake of her status as a noble or….or if she survived what happened at Solchbar. Solchbar. Where Lord Rhîwon's son was…was…

His mind started to swirl in new directions. He knew not why his son helped Beinion to orchestrate this coup. However, the king asked after the Lady Glorindis. Specifically, he asked if his son had any connection to Lady Miluiel's daughter. That much Rhîwon recalled. A babe? Could…could his son? No. His son hadn't married yet but there was something gnawing at him, something he couldn't name about this information on a gwinig in Thranduil's care. It was something important and he couldn't recall.

"Solchbar?" Lord Rhîwon slowly asked. Tûr Alphorn hmm'd and blinked at his lord's curious face. "…the…ward?" Rhîwon managed to further supply.

Alphorn nodded slowly. He tried to think back over the past few weeks. Had no one told Lord Rhîwon or had he simply been so out of his mind with grief that he could not hear? Either were equally possible.

"The only survivor," Alphorn whispered. This set off a new set of tears trailing down Rhîwon's face. Aravar. His son did not survive. However, no one survived save one tiny babe? That was news to Lord Rhîwon though, he would admit he hadn't paid much attention to the world past the news of his son's death.

Looking down at himself and grimacing, Lord Rhîwon felt as if he needed a bath first and then, perhaps, attempt to rouse his wife from her slumber? Did she know? When did she last eat? Grief still gripped his heart but the questions swarming in his head helped to no longer crush it. He wanted to know how his son came to such an end, who this survivor was, and, firstly, where in the void Lainodron had disappeared to. Looking up at his mellon, he spoke, "Echadhol, pissed off…the king?"

Tûr Alphorn gave his lord a cocky grin. "We all knew it was bound to happen sometime. Just wish I could have witnessed it myself!"

The noble lady's guard was careful. He knew that anyone would easily see that the lady had been attacked and he acted in her defense but she was fretful over the investigators coming into her home, invading her privacy. She pleaded with him to take the hröa elsewhere, far from her. Of course, he obeyed. He would not see her so distressed.

Smuggling the body out of the home was not as hard as it should have been. Far too many elves were oblivious as to why the lady's guard pushed a hand cart, loosely covered in a bit of fabric and a haphazard dress, through the streets and out into the woods themselves. The noble lady was known to be a bit eccentric at times. If anyone saw a hint of blood on the dress, they did not comment. He doubted anyone saw anyway. It would easily be explained away – a nose bleed due to a sword fight or even her monthly; it didn't matter it was in completely the wrong spot. There were always ways to explain around things, he learned. And no one questioned the Lady.

He pushed the cart out to a far off stream – just a daur from the Lady's home- where some wolves were known to roam. It was too far off the common trails that anyone passing might see. There he would leave the former tûr of the decorators, Lainodron, to become nothing more than fodder for whatever predator found him first. If the border guards ever found him, he would be little more than bone and dust.

Once the hröa was left, the guard returned with the push cart. He never noticed an aphadon woman clutching the hand of an ancient elleth and talking to her excitedly in westron. His mind was on his task and that, currently, was to return to the lady.

Chapter End Notes

...uh oh. Is somebody about to be caught? What do you think of Lord Rhîwon? Do you think he will help or hinder things?