AN: I know, it's late. To quote Han Solo: "It's not my fault!" There was something wrong with the document manager last night, so I couldn't get it posted.
Chapter Seven: Suspicions
Meluial did not know that she was being watched.
The sun had risen a few hours ago, giving pale morning light to all in the courtyard. The princess was out on the archery field, apparently to practice before any students came for their lessons.
Her aim was as true as any archer's, but today she was not focused.
Captain Brithdil sighed and leaned back against the wall of the palace. He had come out in the early morning, hoping it might help him think but now he was merely watching Meluial take out her frustrations on the archery targets.
The princess was a fair shot, but he could see her quivering with anger from where he stood.
He assumed she was unfocused for the same reason he was—namely, how had a little elfling like Legolas ended up in the lowest dungeon? True, the doors were left open (something Brithdil had remedied after last night, not wanting this situation repeated), but why would he have gone down there when he already had any number of good hiding places throughout the palace?
There were countless rooms and halls, places he could disappear to and not be found for hours, or even days, so why the dungeons?
The captain sighed again, this time loudly enough that Meluial whirled around to see who else was out.
Brithdil offered her a smile and friendly wave, and to his surprise she smiled back. "Captain Brithdil," she called in greeting.
"My Lady," Brithdil bowed, pushing away from the wall and walking out to the archery field. "Did you come out here to practice?"
The princess shook her head, her eyes on her bow as her fingers checked it for flaws or cracks. "I was trying to clear my head," she said softly.
"Ah. So was I."
Meluial glanced up, her dark eyes curious. "You?"
"I have been troubled, ever since we found your brother last night," Brithdil admitted.
"So have I," Meluial agreed.
"The door to that cell...it was heavy, was it not?"
The princess's brow furrowed. "I don't remember."
"It was far too heavy to have simply closed on its own," Brithdil said. "And there would have been no wind down in the passage."
"And the door in the hall?"
Brithdil shook his head. "Those are supposed to be wedged open when they are not locked," he replied.
The she-elf nodded slowly. "So you don't think he got there on his own." It was a statement, not a question.
"Do you?"
Meluial looked away. "I don't know," she finally said. "I have heard Belegdur's story of what happened, and Amarthwen's side of things, but Legolas has said nothing yet. But..."
The captain waited, but seeing that his companion was reluctant to speak gently prodded her on. "But?"
"I don't trust her," the princess said, turning back to face him, a faint blush stealing into her cheeks.
Brithdil frowned. "Why not?"
"I can't put my finger on it," she replied. "There is just something about her..."
The she-elf's voice trailed off, and her gaze dropped to the ground. "She wears a mask," Meluial finally said, her voice sounding as though she thought her words were foolish. "Every time I see her I feel as though she is wearing a mask and none of us have seen her true nature."
"I see," Brithdil said with a nod.
The princess's cheeks colored even more. "I can't explain it," she said defensively.
"I'm not saying you should," the captain replied. "But what are you going to do with your suspicions?"
The princess glanced up, brown eyes turning steely. "I'm going to watch her, and if I think she is hurting my brother..."
She grabbed an arrow from her quiver, spun on her heel, and fired it into the bull's-eye of the target.
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Thranduil huffed out an annoyed sigh. "Take the documents to Belegdur and ask him to read over them," he said to yet another council member who had come to the healers' ward to seek out the king. "He will instruct you on any changes you should make."
"But, My Lord," the council member hesitated. "Prince Belegdur has already seen these...I was hoping you could approve his changes?"
The king paused for a moment, closing his eyes to collect his thoughts. "Belegdur has been aiding me in tasks like this for well over a century," he said patiently. "I feel no need to check my son's work."
"But..."
A glare from the king silenced any further protest, and the council member hastily bowed and shuffled away.
Thranduil glared after the elf's back for a few moments, before turning his focus back to the task at hand. "Where were we?" he asked softly.
The elfling in the bed was looking down at his hands, a sad expression on his face. "Legolas?" Thranduil gently touched his son's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"They need you," he replied quietly.
"No," the king said with a sigh. "They think they do. Aranion and Belegdur have run the kingdom for me before, they only come because I am here. If I were gone the council would have no trouble accepting your brothers' guidance. This is where I want to be today, do you understand?"
Legolas nodded, but still seemed unconvinced.
"Now, where were we..." the king glanced down at the open book on his knees, scanning the page. He quickly found the spot and continued reading the story, hoping to lighten his son's spirits, which seemed to sink every time one of the councilors or advisors interrupted.
"My Lord?"
Thranduil valiantly refrained from launching the storybook at the timid councilor's face, instead putting on an expression of utmost impatience to face this new interruption. "Yes?" he said through clenched teeth.
"The human ambassadors wish to speak with you," the advisor said, taking a step back at the fury in the elf-king's eyes.
"Tell them I am unavailable," Thranduil said, annoyance creeping into his tone. Was it honestly so difficult to remember that the king was not to be disturbed today?
"I'm sorry, but they insist."
"Then take them to Aranion."
"They refuse to speak to anyone but you, My Lord."
Thranduil groaned. He had been afraid this would happen. These particular human ambassadors—from Dale—had been stubborn and troublesome. He could not understand their insistence on seeing only the king when the crown prince had more experience negotiating than any of them had been alive and was perfectly capable of taking care of their needs, whatever they may be.
"Have you explained that I cannot speak with them today?"
"They are most insistent," the councilor said quietly. "They...they wish to know why they should wait on your whim while you waste your days with your...son."
Thranduil nearly growled. Though he was sure the ambassadors' language was much stronger, the councilor should have known better than to say such things in front of Legolas. "Tell them I will see them in time," he replied, jaw clenching in anger.
The councilor bowed. "Pardon me, but if you were to tell them yourself...?"
Ah, so that was what the councilor wanted; a way out of further complaints from the human ambassadors. "I will not—"
"Ada?" a small voice interrupted what would have become a tirade, and Thranduil looked down into his son's quiet face. "You can go if you need to."
Thranduil shook his head, ignoring the suddenly-hopeful look on the councilor's face. "I said I would stay here, Legolas," he replied softly.
"But they need to talk to you."
The king sighed, his heart nearly breaking at the resignation in the elfling's voice. He couldn't leave, but unless he saw the ambassadors now they would probably come up here and disturb the entire ward with their demands. Hadn't any of them ever had a sick child?
Thranduil closed his eyes, the same resignation he'd heard in his son's voice filling his heart. Perhaps he should speak with them, just for a moment, just long enough to explain that he would speak with them tomorrow. "I will be back in a moment," he promised, kissing his son on the forehead as he rose to follow the councilor. Sometimes he hated being king.
Legolas watched his father leave, then rolled over onto his side and curled up into a ball.
Celebalqua slowly approached the elfling, sitting on the side of the bed and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Legolas?"
He didn't respond. The healer sighed, leaning over to check his forehead. He was running a slight fever—evidently they hadn't been able to prevent all infection from the rat bite. She knew Thranduil would return as soon as he was able, but it was more likely that the ambassadors would be able to drag him into a discussion for an hour or more, and then half a dozen elves would descend upon him with their own demands.
"I'll send for your sister," Celebalqua whispered, knowing Legolas shouldn't have to be alone just because of a group of ill-mannered ambassadors.
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The last of the councilors finally left, leaving behind them a frustrated and worn king. His "moment" with the human ambassadors had turned into hours of work as first they demanded to present their case today rather than tomorrow, followed by a steady stream of councilors pouncing on the chance for "just a moment" of the king's time.
It was mid afternoon and he had yet to return to his son.
Thranduil eyed the papers on his desk, wondering if it would be unkingly to sweep them all onto the floor in a burst of anger. He hadn't acted that way in several thousand years, but today...
He shook his head, instead stacking them to one side. What had possessed him to bring the storybook to his study with him? He should have left it down in the healers', at least then someone else could have read the story to Legolas.
Ah, but then this was only supposed to take a moment.
How could a book like that just disappear? He had moved the papers on his desk no less than three times, looked through the drawers on the unlikely chance it had fallen in there, and searched under every piece of furniture in the room. Huffing out a sigh he turned to look through the bookcase, wondering if perhaps one of the more "helpful" councilors had seen the book and put it away on the shelf.
He pulled out several volumes, frowning at those he didn't recognize. None of them were the storybook, and he was beginning to wonder if he had left it in the healers' ward, or perhaps somewhere along the way.
Thranduil pulled the last volume off, gave its cover and the first few pages a cursory glance before deciding it wasn't the right book and shoved it back onto the shelf. As he did so a piece of parchment fluttered out, and he bent down to pick it up.
A broad smile broke out on his face. It was part of a letter he'd begun last week, only to have to discard it when his pen made a large blot on one of the words. Legolas had found the parchment when he had come up to spend time with Thranduil, and had happily spent the time naming every letter on the document.
The king's smile grew as his gaze traveled down to the childish scrawl on the bottom of the paper. Legolas had wanted to write his name, so Thranduil had carefully spelled it out and let the elfling write it on his own. The result was barely legible, of course, but Legolas had insisted on writing it all himself.
Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he studied the script. He suddenly whirled around, sweeping papers off his desk and digging down to the treaty Belegdur had finished two days ago.
There. Stuck between the pages of the treaty was the paper Thilator had brought up to discuss Legolas' lack of progress.
The king held both pages up, a frown creasing his features.
His eyes traveled between the page that had fallen out of the book and one he had found on the desk. The letters on both were crooked and uneven, but while the second showed no sigh of discipline or concentration, the first had obviously been written with great patience and diligence.
He did not know whose handwriting was on the paper the tutor had brought up, but it was definitely not his son's.
Thranduil's eyes narrowed in anger. That elf...that elf had dared to stand before him and accuse his son of acting belligerently? Of being negligent in his studies? What other lies had Thilator told?
The king threw the door to his study open, surprising a councilor who had come by for a "moment" of his time. "Go get the tutor, Thilator," Thranduil growled, not caring that he was frightening the councilor. "Tell him I wish to see him immediately."
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