A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers, followers, and favoritors.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Brinya and Thranduil get dirty. Literally.
Chapter 5: Something Wicked This Way Comes
Brinya looked down distastefully at her dirt covered hands. She noticed King Thranduil's shoulders were shaking. He was laughing at her. Before she could think twice about it she picked up a clod of dirt and lobbed at his perfect face. It disintegrated before it hit him, spraying his pale skin and hair with tiny flecks of soil.
"Salt and pepper is a good look for you," she said, indicating the dirt in his hair. He only laughed harder and he didn't even seem to mind that he was dirty.
"When I suggested we get to know each other over gardening, I had no idea it would be so… difficult for you." Brinya might have felt insulted, but he was still laughing. It was hard to feel angry with him when he seemed so carefree. She couldn't recall ever seeing him so relaxed before. At least one of us enjoys being in the garden, she thought. He was so beautiful when he smiled that sometimes she had to look away from him. His perfection felt eerie and inhuman. He walked and talked like a human man, but there were times when it was painfully very obvious that he was something completely and disturbingly alien.
It was their third day working in the garden. A few rose bushes looked less choked by weeds at their roots, but otherwise they hadn't made much progress. Brinya was almost no help at all. She had no idea what to do and was too embarrassed to ask many questions. For his part, Thranduil had a vague idea of what should be done, but he seemed to enjoy watching her flounder more than giving her instruction. I hope this isn't a portent of what's to come in our relationship, Brinya thought grumpily. She stopped digging, shocked at her own thoughts. Where had that come from? She was pulled back to reality when she realized Thranduil was speaking to her.
"Will you be at the feast later?" she heard him ask.
"What feast?"
"The people of Mirkwood are gathering to welcome the delegation from Esgaroth. Normally we would not stand on such formality, but new leadership can mean new alliances. In this case, I hope to put new faces to my old allies."
She looked at him blankly, "Esgaroth?"
"Lake-Town," he amended, "It was known as Esgaroth in days gone by."
Brinya nodded. Sometimes she forgot how old Thranduil really was. He looked no more than thirty and she found it disconcerting that he would have been ancient when even her oldest relatives were born. Although she wasn't a diplomat she had a keen interest in politics, or at least she thought she did. She had only been permitted to learn a certain amount about such things. In Balinor, affairs of state were mostly run by men. She wondered if the same was true here in Mirkwood.
"What is your agreement with Lake-Town?" she asked.
Thranduil raised his dark eyebrows in mild surprise. He hadn't expected her to have much interest in the political mechanics of his kingdom. He was enjoying this conversation. People so rarely surprised him anymore. "Our relationship is primarily based on trade. We exchange wheat, poultry, and some of our wine for raw materials like wood, iron, and even some silver."
"You trade for wood?"
Normally he would have found that so many questions tried his patience, but coming from her they seemed charming. She was, after all, a foreigner, so he could not expect her to understand the intricacies of Mirkwood's foreign relations. "I know it seems strange that people living in a forest should look for an outside source for wood, but we do not defile the trees here. They are ancient and wise and we see it as our duty to protect them. The trees are a part of my kingdom just like the people are. I cannot see them desecrated to be used for firewood or carved into furniture."
"And the iron?"
"Just as we do not defile the trees, we likewise do not rape the earth. This is our sacred home. We do not ruin her body by digging for precious metals. If the earth wants us to find something, she will show it to us. The iron comes to us from the dwarf mines over the mountains. Lake-Town receives it as our intermediary for a price. I speak for many of the Eldar when I say that I would be happy to be relieved of a heavy purse if it means I can avoid dealing with the dwarfish merchants."
"It's admirable that you take such a personal interest in what goes in and out of your kingdom. I do not think we are so meticulous in Balinor. Speaking of which, is there any word from my father?"
Thranduil shook his head. "I've heard nothing from him but the letter you and your companions brought on your arrival. We are an isolated community here. Except for those we trade regularly with, we have little contact with the outside world."
"And even less with humans."
"Humans are… complicated."
"You find us distasteful." It wasn't a question.
"I find you unpredictable. When you've lived as long as I have, you learn that unpredictable can be dangerous."
"How long exactly, have you lived?"
"I am approximately 33,524 years old."
"Approximately?"
"I have a birthday coming up. I could be your great grandfather many times over. Tell me, is my age a source of concern for you?"
"It's not a concern now," she said, "but I don't know how I'll feel when you stay young and beautiful and I grow old and feeble. I think you would not want me then." Trying to lighten the mood she said, "Is my youth a concern for you? If elves live forever, you must feel a little like you are courting a toddler."
He smirked, "I admit that at first it was a little disconcerting, but our people mature at different rates. I am aware that among your people you are regarded as fully mature."
"It's true that I am fully grown. I don't know that anyone would describe me as mature. Anyway, I like to keep people on their toes. I don't have to live as long as you to know that predicable can also mean boring."
He pretended to be offended and gestured to fictitious guards, "Off with her head. The penalty for suggesting that I am not the most fascinating conversationalist in Mirkwood is death."
She laughed loudly. She hadn't known he could be funny. An uncertain silence followed. Thranduil cleared his throat and said, "It is possible that the delegates from Lake-Town may have news from Balinor. I doubt that they carry any personal communications from your family, those would no doubt be sent by a special messenger, but they may have some general news about the skirmishes on your borders."
Brinya smiled gratefully. She knew that she must seem desperate for news about her family, but she didn't care. Since her arrival at the palace at eight years old, she had hardly spent any time away from it. It was the only place she really thought of as home. It was maddening to think that something terrible could have happened to its inhabitants and she might not even know. A king, even great King Thranduil, thinking that she seemed desperate was the least of her worries.
"What do you know about my father's trouble with the Northern bandits?"
Again Thranduil found himself surprised, "In truth, I know only the information contained in his letter. He said that outlaws were troubling the merchants who traded along the border and that harm done without just cause to a Balinese person was considered an act of war by their government. Is there something else I should know?"
Despite the sun's warmth in the garden, she shivered. "I'm not sure. There are rumors, but not solid reports. I have heard tales of people returning to their homes after encounters with the bandits…," she trailed off, not exactly sure how to put what she wanted to say into words. She didn't want him to think she was a child, as if that could really be avoided. "They say that people come back different from encounters with the bandits. They say kind men become cruel. Wise men become foolish. Men who were brave are now cowards. My father says it's all just farmer's gossip, but I'm not so sure. What if there is something more sinister about these raiders? What if they are something beyond common thieves?"
Thranduil was deeply disturbed by what she told him. He didn't wish to alarm and he had no way of knowing if these rumors were accurate, but if they were, then he had a feeling he knew what these things, they were not men, were capable of. He would find out. If he was honest he didn't care much what happened to the people of Balinor. With the exception of Brinya and her family, he would be completely indifferent to watching them burn. But if this was the same evil he had encountered before, it would eventually spread into his land like a plague. He needed to find out if Brinya's rumors could be substantiated, and then he needed to ready his army to cut off the head of snake, before its venom poisoned them all.