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The rich aroma of roasted venison reached Legolas’s nose before the din of the full Feasting Hall. It wasn’t often the Greenwood entertained outsiders but the new leader of Lake-town had come to pay his respects, and if rumors were to be believed, make new demands.
Legolas nodded to the guard as he entered the cavernous space. A glance at the head table told him negotiations were not going well.
Ribehrt, the human leader, and his party wore deep frowns and picked at the food on the plates in front of them.
Thranduil, his father, wore a look that read bored to those that didn’t know him well. Legolas could see the irritation in the way he gripped his wine goblet and, was that concern, he saw in the corner of his eyes?
A glance to the seat on Thranduil’s left, gave him the reason for the concern. Nimue was absent.
Legolas stopped at the table reserved for the family’s closest attendants. He leaned close to Aemma and asked, “Has there been trouble between my father and Nimue?”
Aemma shook her head, braids trembling down her back at the motion. “No one has seen her since I served breakfast in the king’s room.”
Legolas lifted an eyebrow.
“Nothing seemed amiss.” Color dusted her cheeks. “Although, I’m not sure they paid me any heed.”
He thanked her and bowed his head in parting.
What could have happened? Father has been in the council chamber all morning and no one would dare to say something against Nimue, not anymore.
Thranduil motioned him to take Nimue’s seat when he reached the table.
Legolas nodded respectfully to his father and waited as a plate and goblet were set in front of him.
He exchanged pleasantries with Ribehrt and tried to keep the conversation flowing. I’ve forgotten how difficult it is to host. Nimue is a natural. It’s not like her to neglect guests.
Thranduil lifted his goblet and a servant appeared to refill it. That taken care of, he motioned with a finger for Legolas to draw closer.
“Yes, Father?”
“I’m worried,” he said without a flicker of emotion on his face. “Nimue cannot be found.” His eyes darted over the rim of his goblet at their guests. “I fear someone has upset her.”
Legolas frowned. “That would not be wise if they want to change the agreement between Greenwood and Lake-town.”
Thranduil’s eyes hardened. “I don’t give a damn about the agreement. I have the patience to wait for the next leader.”
Legolas hid his smile behind his own goblet. “What would you have me do?”
“I want these-” his fingers tightened around the goblet when one of Ribehrt’s men laughed loudly- “barbarians gone quickly.”
Legolas nodded. It had been surprising the council had been agreed to but Nimue had been slowly bringing more openness to Greenwood.
“While I handle these annoyances, will you find her and ensure she is well?”
“Of course, Father.”
Thranduil inclined his head to his son and stood.
The entire room stood with him.
“Come, Ribehrt,” Thranduil said in a tone that offered no room for disagreement, “I grow weary of the feast and wish to see you on your way before nightfall.” He swept from the room without a backwards glance.
Ribehrt’s eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. He opened his mouth to protest only to quickly close it. He gulped the remainder of his wine and nearly knocked the chair over in his haste to catch up with the king. The remainder of his advisors followed in his wake.
“My lord,” a quiet voice called.
Legolas motioned the youthful speaker to move closer. No sense in shouting along an empty table.
“My lord,” the youth repeated as he sat across from Legolas.
He tried to put him at ease, smiling and saying, “What is it you need? I’m not my father, speak freely.”
The youth fidgeted with the dirty utensils on the table. “It is a shame that I will not be able to see Lady Nimue. I hear she is most beautiful.”
Legolas studied the youth. “Do you know why she has not joined us?”
“My uncle didn’t mean anything by it.” His eyes widened. “Uncle is upset Ribehrt forbade him from marrying his own kitchen wench - er - maid.”
A deep sigh passed Legolas’s lips. All this time and she is still hurt by these comments.
“I don’t want the king to think uncle did this on purpose and -”
Legolas cut off his apologies. “It is difficult to know what my father will do. Nimue is his consort and he demands all respect her.”
The youth hung his head, hiding the tears filling his eyes.
“I will see if I can do anything,” Legolas said soothingly. “Where did your uncle make these remarks?”
Legolas closed the last door. He had checked the family’s apartments, kitchens, gardens, even the seldom used ones, and now every spare guest room but Nimue was nowhere to be found.
His mother, if she couldn’t be found in her wardrobe, would have been in the treasury. His father, when he needed time alone, would be in the stables. Legolas had a particularly ancient tree in his father’s garden that had absorbed more of his emotions then he would ever admit.
He had expected her to be in the kitchen, kneading bread or making a pie, but he had been told she hadn’t been there all day.
She wouldn’t have fled, would she?
He started back to the public areas of the stronghold. Perhaps he had simply missed her in his search.
A gust of wind moved a branch away from a high window, drawing his eyes upward.
Of course!
He hadn’t thought about his Grandmother’s turret room in ages but it had always served as an airy retreat for the family’s women.
He spun on his heel and hurried back towards the bedrooms. Passing the doors for his father’s rooms, his own, and what had been his mother’s, he stopped at the tapestry that depicted the great ships that carried his ancestors to these shores.
He glanced along the corridor to ensure he was unobserved and brushed the wall hanging aside, stepping into the hidden space behind.
Cheery sunlight illuminated the narrow stairway and he could tell they had been freshly cleaned. Climbing to the room itself, he observed a new plush rug covering the stone floor. A small table held a pot of tea and several books in a corner next to an armchair. Embers glowed in the hearth sitting across from the wide window that overlooked the gardens. Pale pink flowers filled a vase on the sill, releasing their sweet scent with every gentle breeze.
Nimue lay curled on the green velvet chaise. Her rich brown hair, so rare among Greenwood's gold and silver, coiled around her shoulders and brushed the floor.
Legolas quietly called her name and stepped closer when she did not respond. He frowned at the dried tear tracks on her sleeping cheeks.
I will let Father wake her. He is not going to be pleased to find her upset.
He moved towards the stairwell, footsteps as careful as they would be on the hunt.
“Thranduil?” a sleep heavy voice calls. “Oh, Legolas.”
How sweet, even in sleep she thinks first of Father. Legolas paused and turned back. “Forgive me, my lady. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Nimue rubbed a hand across her face, frowned at him, and then her eyes widened as they traced the slant of the sun on the rug. “I missed luncheon,” she stated with a sigh.
“Father is concerned. No one has seen you for hours.”
She sat up and put her head in her hands.
Legolas sat next to her and put a gentle arm around her. “What has distressed you?”
She straightened but did not shake him off. “I didn’t intend to fall asleep.”
He tightened his arm around her. “I can see that you have been crying.”
She rubbed her cheeks and sighed again.
He took her hand. “Who caused this?”
She turned her face to the window. “How goes the negotiations?”
“My lady-”
“Nimue.”
“Nimue, please, your distress is of great concern to my father and,” he squeezed her hand, “me, and all of Greenwood. Do not keep your burdens to yourself.”
Her fingers tightened around his and she lay her head on his shoulder. “It was far less worse than the things your grandfather said to me, and far more true.”
“Will you tell me who spoke to you so?”
“I should not have let it upset me.” She shook her head against his shoulder. “Your father will overreact.” She laughed softly. “Although, his protectiveness is endearing.”
Not when he still treats you like a child. But Legolas smiled, glad his father had found love again.
“Was it one of Greenwood’s residents?” he asked.
She shook her head again.
He pressed his lips together and waited.
“It was nothing, just teasing between men about unacceptable lovers.”
The youth had told the truth.
She straightened and tugged on his hand until he looked at her. “You won’t tell your father? It will be good to have friends in Lake-town.”
“Father is already displeased.”
She frowned.
“He wants them gone before nightfall.”
“I suppose we will have to remedy that.” She rose and crossed to the small table. Pulling out a piece of parchment, she wrote a quick note. “I’m assuming you are to report back to him? You will make sure he gets this?”
Nodding, he took the note she held out, careful to keep it folded despite the lack of a seal.
“I should see to things before supper. Thank you for waking me.” She smiled as she passed.
“My lady, Nimue, you should wash your face before …”
She brought a hand to her cheek and nodded.
He followed her down the stairs, watching as she headed towards his father’s rooms and not hers further down the corridor.
I’m glad she is no longer pretending to keep separate rooms. I can’t remember Mother ever going to Father’s rooms on her own. How different would things have been if Nimue was my mother.
Clearing his mind of thoughts of what could have been, he swiftly made his way through the stronghold to the council room.
The guards barely reacted when he reached the ornate doors, merely nodding in respect. Opening the doors, the loud noise of an argument spilled into the corridor.
Thranduil locked eyes with him and motioned him forward.
The voices slowly died as Legolas crossed the room to his father and handed him the note.
Thranduil took it without a word and held it so Legolas could catch a glimpse over his shoulder as he read.
My love,
Our vigorous breakfast had fatigued me more than I realized. Please apologize to our guests for my absence at luncheon. I hope to make amends at supper and to hear of the agreement with our neighbors. Having allies will allow me to worry less about your safety as the shadow grows. I trust you will make a decision that benefits your people above all.
Your devoted companion.
The corner of Thrandil’s lip twitched, almost smiling, before he folded the note and addressed the room. “I have more important things to attend to than listen to you men argue among yourselves.”
The man to Ribehrt’s right, a stout sandy haired man, opened his mouth.
Thranduil waved a lazy hand and rose. “You are fortunate that my lady wife has requested your presence at supper. We will continue this discussion in the morning and I trust by then you will have something sensible to present for my consideration.”
Legolas stood frozen as the men departed. Lady wife? Have they made it official and kept that from me?
“Son,” Thranduil interrupted his thoughts, “tell me how she really is.” He sat and motioned to the chair next to him.
Legolas took the offered seat and chewed on his lip. What to say that would not upset either?
Thranduil turned his icy gaze on him and crossed his legs.
“She was in the turret room.” He started with the facts. “I hadn’t realized anyone was using it.”
“She asked for a private chamber. I saw no reason not to grant it to her.” Thranduil’s eyes bore into Legolas’s. “You are avoiding the question, my son.”
He sighed. Better to have Nimue a little upset than Father. “She overheard the men discussing marriages of unequal status.”
Thranduil’s hand closed into a fist and an uncharacteristic growl left his throat.
“Father, have you …”
“Not yet.” Thranduil deflated. “I have been waiting until she accepts that my love for her has never faded nor will it.” He rubbed at where his crown sat on his brow. “And now this…”
“You are always talking about your eternal patience,” Legolas couldn’t help but quip.
Thranduil’s smooth face scrunched into a scowl, eyes flashing darkly.
“Peace, Father, peace,” he soothed. “I do not believe she would deny you.”
Thranduil’s expression melted back into its neutral mask. “I have already hurt her so much and will not tolerate anyone else doing so.”
Legolas patted his father’s shoulder. “She seemed more upset that she missed luncheon and that the negotiations were not going well. You dismissed the delegation for the day, why not spend the afternoon with her?”
Thranduil looked across the table at the various scrolls spread out.
“She has always given me good counsel.”
Thranduil arched an eyebrow. “Counsel on what?”
Heat rushed to Legolas’s face as he thought of Tauriel and Nimue’s gentle advice to talk to his fellow archer.
“We can speak on that when you are ready, my son,” Thranduil said with a slight smile. “You should know I would not prevent any union that you wish to make.”
“Thank you, Father.” Legolas bowed his head. “Perhaps, I should be giving you the same council. Nimue would not refuse you. I have grown to love her, as has all of Greenwood. Do not let past fears prevent your future happiness.”
Thranduil nodded and dismissed him.
The sun had just lowered past the tops of the great trees when Legolas dismissed the other guards from archery training. He gathered up the targets and carried them towards their storage locker.
Laughter drew his attention as he passed near the kitchen. Is that Father?
He set the targets down and crept close to the open window. He put a hand to his mouth to stifle the gasp at what he saw.
Nimue, unsurprisingly, was dressed in a flour dusted apron, mashing something in a bowl on the table in front of her. Thranduil stood next to her, dressed simply in a tunic and breeches. His hair flowed freely, unbound by its crown, and the long formal robe was nowhere to be seen.
Father never leaves his rooms unless dressed to hold court.
Thranduil laughed again, drawing his son’s attention.
Legolas watched as Nimue scooped something from the bowl and held it to Thranduil’s lips.
He savored the spoonful before drawing Nimue into a kiss. “Now that is a flavor that cannot be matched.”
She laughed and playfully hit his arm, leaving a floured hand print behind. “I don’t think you would approve of others having the same taste.”
“Absolutely not,” he growled and wrapped his arms around her from behind, leaning over her shoulder to watch her spoon the concoction into a pie dish.
Thranduil moved with her to put the pie into the oven, keeping her in the circle of his arms. When that was finished, she leaned back against him, smiling softly.
Legolas could not stop the smile from forming on his own lips, despite the small stab of pain. I never saw Father and Mother that happy together. I wish I had memories like that with them.
Nimue laughed again and Legolas glanced back to see her toss the apron at Thranduil’s head. “Come, my king,” she teased. “You need to get cleaned up before supper.”
“I can think of a few other things I’d like to do before supper.” He kissed her passionately.
“That kind of talk will only make us late,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I have already missed luncheon.”
“The men will wait. I am king after all.” He laughed when she shook her head and took her hand, leading her away.
Legolas smiled and hurried to resume his task. He too needed to dress for supper.
The Feasting Hall was ablaze with candles and the soft sounds of the minstrels warming up could barely be heard over the chatter.
The delegation from Lake-town cast anxious glances at each other, the entryway, and the guards as each minute passed.
Legolas hid his smile behind his wine goblet. Father has held supper for two hours before sending word he would not attend but for once I do not think Father is delaying to make a point.
Ribehrt started to rise with an angry look on his face when a hush fell over the room and all eyes turned towards the door as Nimue and Thranduil entered.
Thranduil was dressed as lavishly as always. A formal robe of silver with a deep orange lining trailed behind him. His crown was adorned with the pale buds of the new spring and a large diamond ring on his finger caught the light of the candles.
But it was Nimue that drew the most attention. She wore a dress of the same orange as Thranduil’s robe, its bodice cinched tight to accentuate her figure, before flowing effortlessly to the ground. Her hair was intricately braided around her head with similar buds woven in to mimic that of a crown. The style left her slender neck free to display the necklace of fine diamonds and sun-stones that sparkled with every movement.
The room stood as they crossed the hall to the head table. Thranduil helped Nimue into her chair and brought her fingers to his lips in a rare display of public affection before taking his own seat. With a wave of his hand, everyone sat and the servants brought out the food.
“You look stunning tonight, my lady,” Legolas said across the table to Nimue. “I have not seen that necklace before, is it new?”
“I had a few lesser pieces reworked to better match her beauty,” Thranduil said.
Nimue smiled and carefully traced the gems around her neck. “It is much too fine for -”
“Nonsense, my lady,” Ribehrt interrupted, much to the table’s surprise. “It is a husband’s prerogative to richly adorn his wife and let me say,” he turned to Thranduil, “on anyone else the necklace would be garish.”
Legolas cringed. Wife. Why did he say wife?
Nimue turned so suddenly to Thranduil, a flower bud shook itself free and tumbled into her wine goblet.
His face never dropped the regal mask as his eyes pleaded with her for understanding.
Legolas held his breath waiting for her to storm off like Mother.
Ribehrt laughed and pounded the table. “Does a man good to see matrimony has not cooled everyone’s passions.”
The spell broken, Nimue returned her focus to him. “You flatter me Ribehrt, but tell me, how are things in Lake-town? I believe last I heard a school had been started for the younger ones.”
Legolas relaxed as the meal progressed. Nimue was a natural host and kept the conversation flowing around the table. She even managed to coax Thranduil into contributing a few times, quite a feat when he was determined to dislike the outsiders.
When the last plate had been cleared and wine goblets refilled, Aemma approached the table carrying a pie. She set the dish down and curtseyed deeply. “I do not mean to interrupt -”
Nimue drew her out of the curtsy. “I’m so glad the pie has finished in time. Thank you.”
She stood and motioned for the others to keep their seats. Taking the knife from Aemma, she sliced the pie and carefully transferred them to plates. She handed the first plate to Aemma and sent her on her way before distributing the rest. The next to Thranduil, then to Ribehrt and his men, and finally to Legolas before returning to her seat with the last slice.
Thranduil took a small bite as a signal for the others to begin eating.
Delighted sounds filled the air.
“This is excellent,” Ribehrt said with his mouth full. “You must thank the cook for me.”
“My lady made it herself,” Thranduil said haughtily.
The men fell silent, sneaking glances between their plates and Nimue.
It was the youth that had spoken to Legolas at luncheon that recovered first. “What a wondrous skill. Pie making would be a useful talent for a wife.”
Ribehrt scowled at the youth before turning his glare on the stout blond man. He opened his mouth only to hiss when the man next to him quite obviously kicked him.
“Your name is Aleric?” Nimue asked the youth.
He nodded and shoved a forkful of pie in his mouth.
“When you are finished with your dessert, would you be so kind as to accompany me for a dance?”
Aleric’s face turned red and then drained of all color in quick succession.
Legolas set his own utensil down. I hope he does not faint.
The entire table looked at Thranduil with varying looks of shock on their faces.
“Well, are you going to answer my lady?” Thranduil drawled.
“Oh, oh. Yes. My lady. I would be greatly- It would be an honor to -” Aleric took another large bite of his pie to stop his babbling.
Nimue smiled. “The honor is mine. I would love to discuss more about talents you find useful in a wife.”
The stout blond man put his head in his hands, letting out a low moan only Legolas could hear.
He must be the uncle who wants to marry beneath his station. He glanced across the table at Nimue. Women always find interesting ways to bring men around to their way of thinking. I wish her luck in finding a solution. He snuck a look out of the corner of his eye at Thranduil. As long as Father doesn't cut the dance short.
The pie was soon finished and Aleric took Nimue’s hand, with only a little tremble, and led her to the open space between the tables. The minstrels began a lively tune and the pair took their places across from each other.
They made a lovely couple and once Aleric’s nerves settled, it was clear they were in easy conversation.
Thranduil’s eyes never left the couple, tracking each pass, each twirl, every press of Aleric’s hand to Nimue’s.
I wonder how long before Father-
Thranduil stood, leaving his robe behind. He strode across the room and deftly cut into the dance, seamlessly replacing Aleric between one turn and the next.
Legolas chuckled at the disappointment on the youth’s face and the surprise on Nimue’s, before she shook her head and continued the dance. I have never seen Father dance this much. He is quite good at it and a lovelier pair could not be found in all of Arda.
Aleric returned to the table and drank deeply from a goblet, receiving slaps on the back for his performance.
Ribehrt put his elbow on the table and leaned across to address Legolas. “Do you think I could have a dance with her? Would she put in a good word with the king about our trade deal?”
Legolas glanced back to the dancing pair. Thrandiul had Nimue pulled close to his chest and they swayed gently together, no longer attempting any of the steps. “I do not believe they will stay much longer in the hall.”
Ribehrt frowned and then shrugged, drinking from his refilled goblet.
When the blond man drew Ribehrt into conversation, Legolas excused himself, having caught sight of Tauriel entering the hall.
He took a steadying breath as he approached her to ask for a dance, as Nimue had encouraged him.
Perhaps courtly duties are not completely awful.