Chapter 4: Dominion

Sitting on a large, cushioned chair, embroidered with golden elkheads, in his council chamber as opposed to the high throne in his halls, Thranduil looked just as imposing and majestic as ever. Perhaps he was not yet as strong as to climb the stairs up there without swooning and falling over given the dangerous amount of blood loss he had suffered recently, but he was determined and convincing enough to preside over his court, sit with his back straight and look upon the gathering in a frivolous manner. "Dismissed." He announced, slightly nodding his head to emphasize his wish, making advisors and councilors retreat respectfully with haste, all having to corner Tauriel as she walked up to the king, the redhead being reason for the court to be sent away so abruptly.

"Have a seat, captain," Thranduil motioned to the chair closest to him Feren had vacated a moment ago. He was measured and composed, movements fluid and regal, ceremonial. If it wasn't for his pale complexion, thin frame and him slightly leaning to the right to relieve pressure to his injured side, nobody would've been able to tell that not a lot more than just a few days ago he had disregarded all calls for custom and laid his soul bare in front of her. Tauriel had no idea what to do with the revelation, and wondered whether the king remembered it at all. He had been at its worse then, at the time when neither the healers nor the elvenking himself held out much hope for survival, right before his poison induced seizure when Tauriel was once more shoved out the way and never asked to return since.

"Guren glassui seeing you well and up and about, hir vuin." She bowed respectfully before settling into the seat he had indicated previously. Perhaps if he didn't remember his own words, the better. "Ci maer?"

"Tired, but well enough," he admitted, "thank you for your concern,Tauriel."

"Is the wound healing satisfactorily?" She showed further interest.

"Report," he prompted aloof, impatient. His hands settled on the table before him, slender fingers slightly distracting Tauriel.

She knew her king well. Those beautiful hands were looking for purchase, extra security and support, however casual the posture seemed. He was not ready to be out of bed, he shouldn't have been. "How long have you been up, my Lord? I could assist you to your chambers and give an account of my report on the way."

Thranduil turned incredulous eyes at her. "Report." He repeated, firm and irate.

Tauriel sighed, "the last couple of days have been without major confrontations. Just one small spider, barely an adult, two wargs and a goblin. However, Lenwe's patrol recounted spotting fell beasts far on the horizon, flying North, probably surveying, like we had been." She frowned. All these potential threats needed dealt with, but since him getting hurt, Tauriel hadn't been so keen on suggesting endangering themselves voluntarily as much.

"Send half-permanent sentries to the site, see if it becomes a regular occurrence," Thranduil ordered.

His subject nodded, "yes, your Majesty. I will personally take the first trek out tomorrow to set up camp."

"No," he objected quickly, "let your men handle it. I need you here at the caverns to coordinate defenses in case I am not well enough to do so myself," he maintained.

Tauriel knit her brows. Did he just admit weakness? Not very probable, not at all in fact. It was most likely an excuse to keep her around. But why? Was it because he allegedly loved her and wanted to have her out of harm's way or was it because she was eventually always trouble when she was sent out on patrol? "Is there anything else? Or are you ready to return to rest now?" She prompted, "I could call for Galion to assist you if you like."

Thranduil waved her off, "there is something else. The matter is you," he stated evenly.

"What have I done wrong now?" The archer defended herself.

"Nothing," the king was quick to answer, "it is myself who put forward some words that will and should not be repeated in anyone's company."

"Ah," she paused, mulling over the fact that he did remember what he had said, "I wouldn't dream of it," she held. And if his colour looked like how he was before his injury, did that mean that he was blushing? Tauriel averted her eyes, self-conscious. "I'm merely a lowly Sylvan elf, it is of no consequence what you say to me in poison induced deliriums."

"But I wasn't delirious, Tauriel. I wanted you to know...that if circumstances were different, I would pursue a different path with you. Hence nothing is to change between us."

"Agreed." No matter how demeaning his attitude towards Silvan elves was, she had no interest in a love affair with the king. The girl stared right into his eyes, intent. It was now, or never. "But Thranduil," she called him simply on his given name, as she felt the occasion justified. "Do not ever step in the way of a weapon intended for my peril again, do you hear." She intoned firmly.

Thranduil leaned back on his seat, smiling deviously. He didn't deny having done it, not one bit. "You do not order your king around, little elf."

The End.

Glossary:
Guren glassui – my heart is joyous
Ci maer – are you well