Legolas grasped a handful of red cranberries lying on the long, wooden table. Idhmarel, chief cook on the court, looked at the prince with disapproval in his greenish eyes. Reminding king's son of importance of the frugality (especially during the cold winter, when the plants refuse to cooperate) was as meaningless as an attempt to establish a dialogue with the boulder. Well, king will be forced to eat modest dessert.
Idhmarel grabbed a wooden spoon lying on the table, and began to mix the contents of one of the bowls.
Legolas put some fruit in his mouth and leaned against a nearby wall.
''Any news, Idhmarel?'', he asked. He crossed his arms and looked at the too cooks who were fiercely quarreling over some topic. When they saw the prince, they bowed and immediately returned to work. ''I have nothing interesting to do and I am really bored. This day is really dull.''
Idhmarel put down the spoon covered in dough and turned to Legolas. He raised his dark eyebrow.
''Dull? I thought that sir Aragorn's awakening deserves to be called at least… interesting.''
Legolas almost spat out the last cranberry that he has just put in his mouth.
''What are you talking about? What awakening? I know nothing about it!'', he snapped. Black-haired elf who was cutting odd-looking, green vegetable, jumped in fear. Idhmarel reassured her with a delicate gesture and a gentle smile.
''Our dignified guest woke up from his coma about an hour ago. I thought Erael told you about this news, master.''
''As you can see he did not do that.'', Legolas shook his head. There was a growing restlessness in his voice. ''Does the king knows about it?''
''I do not know.''
Legolas whispered something that sounded like: ''Oh, by the gods'' and quickly hurried to the door.
Large, gold-plated door opened with a loud creak when Legolas walked into spacious, brightly lit chamber. His face was blushing from haste and anger.
The royal bedroom was so large that it could fit at least several dozen of people. Against one of the walls there was standing a huge bed with headboard carved in the shape of copper leaves. A light green duvet sparkled in the soft glow of a big chandelier hanging from the beige ceiling.
Legolas couldn't remember exactly when was the last time he was in father's bedroom. It must have been long ago – during his early childhood days. When he was a kid, there were many nights when he couldn't sleep. The only solution for his insomnia was sliding out from under the duvet and tiptoeing into the father's bedroom. Thranduil always let him wait out the crisis in his room. He was always stretching out his pale hand toward the son, encouraging him to come closer to the bed. Legolas loved this short moment when he was slowly walking to him with heavy beating heart. In the dim light, sitting on the bed, Elvenking seemed to him so beautiful, so mysterious, just like some godlike, out of reach creature. The young elf liked to imagine that he is some kind of a chosen one, to whom it was given to snatch a bit of paternal divinity. Ah, this wonderful feeling when he was standing next to the bed and he was able to admire his grandeur. Even in the middle of the night, awaken from sleep, the king of the elves looked stunning in soft light coming from an illuminated stream dripping down one of the walls. His beauty wasn't something obvious or universal. It was not the beauty of the faces of thousands of other elves who had something banal in them. It wasn't even Thranduil's perfect features that accounted for his extraordinary beauty. It was the details. Moist, azure eyes shining like marble, long, dark lashes, glossy hair. Prince could spend long hours looking at that face, he was never bored. Always majestic, always thoughtful and melancholic... And then just a gentle touch of his hand on Legolas shoulder and dreamy scent of chamomile, the scent of safety closing around him in the arms of his father.
And now… the prince is an adult. And what was required of him was associated with being serious, mature elf. Sometimes he wondered if his father also misses this characteristic tenderness, specific, innocent bond, which was uniting them when he was a child. There was a few times when he had the impression that he sees a strange, nostalgic flash in Thranduil's blue eyes, but he couldn't tell if it was just an illusion, or a reflection of reality.
Legolas shook off the memories and raised his eyes. Thranduil was sitting at a round, decorated table and was drinking something from the golden chalice. ''He still looks beautiful'', thought instinctively prince.
Father seemed to pay no attention to the guest. He stared at chalice for a long moment, gently stroking its rounded shape. Only when he heard his son impatient grunt, he slowly, with hesitation, looked up at him.
''I thought I taught you manners.'', he ran his finger over the base of the chalice. ''Or maybe you forgot what it means to knock on the door?''
Fidhail, who was standing near the big wardrobe, holding in his hands king's coat and wondering where to hang it, glanced over his shoulder.
Prince's left hand clenched into fist.
''Forgive me, sire.'', he bowed. His clenched fist slowly relaxed. '' I just wanted to make sure that you know about Aragorn's awakening. ''
''Of course I know.''
''And you did not think about informing me?'', although prince tried to mask the irritation, one could hear the anger growing in his voice.
Thranduil furrowed his brows.
''Apparently I had some reasons.'', he said. He turned his head and looked at Fidhail. For him the conversation with his son was over. ''Did you talk with the captain?''
Fidhail opened his mouth to answer, but before he could do that, a loud crash was heard from the direction of Legolas. Shocked, he looked at prince. Thranduil didn't even flinch. He fixed his gaze upon the wall and sighed quietly.
The remains of the once beautiful vase were lying on the wooden floor. Legolas was standing beside them, breathing heavily.
''You and your stupid reasons!'', he hissed through his teeth. Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
Fidhail blinked a few times and made an indefinite sound. He looked shocked. He cleared his throat and slowly turned toward the king, who was looking at the pieces of the vase with rather neutral expression on his face.
''I do not want to be nosy, my lord, but…'', started servant.
''Just ask.''
Fidhail bit his lip, then sighed and looked at his hands.
''Why did you not let Erael tell Legolas about lord Aragorn?''
Thranduil trembled at the sound of his words.
''Something strange happened...'', he started. It was the first time Fidhail ever saw anxiety and confusion on king's face. ''Aragorn does not recognize anyone… anyone but me.''
A/N: I'm really sorry that it took me so long to upload. I had so many things to do that I... well, forgot abut this story.
And I also apologize for any of my grammar mistakes... I guess I'm still not good enough to write properly in English :P But I'm trying! So please, be forgiving :)
