Tauriel follows the sound of a soft moan to Lord Thranduil's bedside, carefully feeling her path with her feet so as not to trip while she balances a tray in her hands.
"My Lord?" she asks. A miserable groan is her only reply, and Tauriel carefully feels her way over to the dresser to set the tray down. "My Lord, I brought you some water and a tincture for headaches. Is there anything else you'd like?"
"Too bright," the hung-over elf mutters, and she hears a shift of motion from the bed that she can only assume is him burying his head beneath the covers.
"I'll see what I can do, My Lord."
Trying to keep a smile off her face, she turns and makes her way to the window, stumbling over a few items in the unfamiliar room. It is not often that she is permitted entry into the King's personal chambers, but she has been in here often enough as a child, playing with Legoas, that she can figure out the general layout. His bed is in the center of the room – she used to hide beneath it while Legolas searched the room for her, pretending he didn't know where she was. The door to the room is off to the left, the wall behind the headboard and to the right of the bed both windowless, and there is one large pane in the center of the remaining wall that overlooks the gardens. Tauriel makes her way in that direction as best she can to close over the blinds as she hears Thranduil let out another grumble of complaint.
When she reaches the window, however, groping along the wall until she locates it, she finds that the curtains are already drawn.
"My Lord…the room should already be dark," she says mildly, biting back a laugh.
The king mutters something intelligible from beneath the covers, and Tauriel picks her way back to his bedside.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," she says softly, leaning over him with a smile.
"I said it's always dark for you," Thranduil mutters foul-temperedly. "So how would you know?"
"Now, now," Tauriel chides, trying to resist her rapidly widening smile. "Be nice. Otherwise I'll take that headache tincture right back."
"…cruel child."
"It's your own fault for drinking so much," she scolds, running her fingers lightly across the covers until they find the threads of her King's silken hair and trace them back to where his head is buried beneath the pillow. "And to think, you tried to get me this drunk as well. What kind of a sorry state would we be in if I had allowed that?"
"If I recall, you were more than willing to consume it, had we not run out."
"Fortunate for your hangover that I didn't, hm?" she grins.
"Don't pretend like you have the moral high ground here. As soon as I can stand again – and once the sound of my own voice no longer gives me a headache – you are going to hear it from me."
Tauriel hums out a little amused sound, smoothing the covers across her King's prone form.
"Well, My Lord, as much as I'm sure you want to sleep for the rest of the day, I do have to inform you that it's far past mid-morning, and you are needed."
"I'm sure you can handle it."
"Oh, I could attempt to write out the trade contracts, I'm sure," she says, and she can't quite keep the wicked smile from her face as she continues. "The question would be whether or not anyone else would be able to read them once I had finished."
Her King lets out a long, complaining groan, and she hears the covers shift as he rolls over.
"You're a smart girl, Tauriel, I'm sure you can think of something… Oh, my head…"
Tauriel takes a second to locate the headache tincture she brought and offer it out in the direction that she last heard his voice. A long few seconds later he manages to grab it.
"How much?" he asks groggily.
"It should say on the bottle. The healers always write down the concentration."
"…can't read it."
"Perhaps a bit of light to see by?" Tauriel asks, turning in the direction of the window with a smile.
"Don't you dare…" he threatens weakly from behind her and Tauriel feels a clumsy hand latch onto the sleeve of her tunic.
"Just an offer, my Lord."
"Stop offering to torture me and get back here."
Tauriel does as she is bid, returning to the bedside as she listens to her king mumble over the hasty script that is sketched on the side of the bottle. He must figure it out (or simply stop caring) because a second later she hears him uncorking the little bottle and pouring some into the glass of water that she brought him. He takes a few long swallows before setting the glass back on the dresser a bit heavily.
"Why did you let me drink so much…" he moans after another moment, the sound muffled by the rustling of cloth as he throws back the covers.
"Because the last feast that I tried to cut you off, you threatened to have me stuffed in an empty wine barrel and thrown into the river."
"I did not."
"You most certainly did," Tauriel replies, daring to sit at the foot of his bed as she listens to him struggle to his feet. "If you don't believe me, ask Feren. He was the one you ordered to fetch a wine barrel big enough to hold me."
"...I didn't actually have you thrown into the river, did I?"
"You thought you did," Tauriel replies with a smile. "Feren marched me out of the room, and we hid in the hall for ten minutes or so to make you think we'd gone down to the river. He even poured a glass of water over my head before I came back in so I would look wet."
"I really don't remember that at all…"
"Well, you were asleep in your throne by the time we got back, so we didn't really get to see your reaction, but Gallon about threw a fit thinking we'd actually done it."
Tauriel tracks the sound of Thranduil's movements as he stumbles his way around the room trying to get ready, turning her head to follow his progress.
She hears him dig for a moment in what she thinks is the closet, and a few seconds later she hears something that sounds a bit like cloth hitting the floor.
"What are you staring at?" her king asks defensively after a moment, and Tauriel forces an innocent look as she does her best not to smile.
"Does it really matter?"
"Don't get smart with me, miss," he chides, his voice muffled as the sounds of him struggling his way into a tunic reach her ears. "I know you're sitting over there, cheerfully listening to me undress."
"You are the one who decided to strip without letting me know first," she counters.
"I will have you know that I was not completely nude."
"That's a reassurance," she says, pausing for good measure before adding "I would not want to be scarred for life."
An indignant squawk and the sound of a sharp movement from Thranduil are her only warning before something soft hits her in the face, tangling around her head and arms as she flails in reaction.
"I am very attractive, you impudent little-"
The rest of his complaint is muttered too low for her to make out the words as she untangles herself from what feels like his bed robe and folds it into a sloppy lump to place on his pillow.
"There. I am ready," his voice calls a moment later. "Are you happy now?"
"Yes," Tauriel grins, standing. "Very."
"Good. Now go away and let me sleep."
Tauriel laughs at that, picking her way over to Thranduil's side.
"You need to do those trade agreements, then you can go back to bed."
"I really don't give an orc's ass about those trade agreements right now."
She smiles, groping for his hand, and begins leading him out of the room once she's secured her grip about his wrist.
"Come on then, you mal-tempered old grouch," Tauriel teases. "I'll fetch you some tea and something to eat."
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood. The next time you wake me from a hangover I'll-"
"It will be Gallion's turn next time," Tauriel cuts him off with a smile. "So he will have to deal with you, not me."
"You make it sound like a chore."
"I wouldn't call it a chore, per se," Tauriel hums, a cheery spring in her step as she leads the way to the throne room with her king trudging behind her. "More of a chance to torment you under the pretense of being helpful."
"…I knew you were evil."
"At least I didn't wake you by pouring ice water over your head."
From behind her, the king lets out a shuddering "ugh" of disgust.
"I could still kill Gallion for that, you know."
"I'm sure. I do recall hearing that you threw something at him, though."
"It was a pillow. And I missed."
"A shame."
Tauriel slows her pace as she gets closer to where the doors to the throne room are, and Thranduil takes the lead, letting her trail happily in his footsteps as he drags himself into the room and up to the dias.
She waits patiently as she hears him settle himself atop the throne, muttering complaints and curses the whole time.
"You said something about fetching tea?" he asks after a moment, and Tauriel darts off with a grin, just as someone else is entering the room.
"I see you managed to drag his royal pain-in-the-ass out of bed," Gallion's voice observes mildly, and Tauriel pauses to throw him a grin.
"I've done my share. Now you get to convince him to actually be useful."
"Oh joy."
Tauriel slips out of the room, trying not to giggle as she hears her king's exclamation of "What in Eru's name is that stack of papers?! You said a trade agreement!" echoing down the hall.
It is definitely going to be a long day.
With that in mind, Tauriel makes sure to grab her King an extra helping of his favorite breakfast pastries while she is in the kitchen waiting on his tea to steep.
After all, she's going to be stuck with him once his hangover wears off, and a little bribery never hurts when trying to dodge a lecture about mouthing off to her king.
Author's Note: I kinda got busy with baking things and didn't realize what day of the week it was. Again. I'm getting really bad about that, aren't I? Anyhow, this is kind of a follow-up of the previous chapter, because hung over Thrandy was too good to pass up.