~Thranduil helps his good friend shop at the market and asks her out on a da- uh, concert. Just a harmless concert. Meanwhile in Ithilien, Lasriel also goes to the market and finds a very interesting Haradrim book.~

~♕~

"But we shouldn't."
"I know. That's what makes it fun."

– Lady and the Tramp

~♕~

16. Market

Winter was drawing close and the weekly market day had as usual been moved underground to the grand cavern near the palace. Thranduil rarely attended; all his purchases were handled by servants anyway, and though he had used to enjoy it before he became king it was now too much of a hassle to avoid everyone who saw an opportunity to talk to him without a formal audience. On his free day Thranduil didn't want to think about work and listen to people's grievances and injustices, hear them begging for a tax respite, or a hundred other things.

Today was an exception. He had been passing through on his way out for a walk when he caught sight of Thuriniel in the crowd. She was edging close to the cave wall, looking lost and out of place, clutching her basket like she was afraid it would escape.

As always his heart went out to her when he saw her discomfort. She clearly hadn't gotten used to being among people yet after living alone for so long, and now with her daughter gone she was obliged to do the shopping by herself.

She looked like she could desperately need an ally, someone to keep her company.

Deep down Thranduil knew he was telling himself that just because he wanted to be near her. She was attracting him like nectar to a bee and he couldn't resist, even though he had learned by now that each time made it harder to avoid doing something rash.

The fault was all That Kiss. Afterwards nothing had been the same. Afterwards she haunted his dreams, and his waking time too.

He just wanted to kiss her again. And more...

Subtly pulling his hood up and cloak tighter he ambled closer, trying to look like a commoner.

When Thuriniel noticed him her worried face brightened and she looked hugely relieved. "How good to see you!"

"I was just doing a bit of shopping when I saw you and figured we might as well make company." He offered his arm.

They then strolled between the stalls, talking amiably while they filled Thuriniel's basket and ate too many candied almonds. It was flattering to see how much calmer she became with him at her side and he decided he would take her out more.

"Are you busy tomorrow? There will be a concert here by the lake that I was thinking of attending. Would you like to come?"

She beamed at him, squeezing his arm. "I would love to."

"That is settled then." He returned her smile, pushing down the flutter he felt at her touch as well as the tiny voice insinuating he was asking her out for selfish reasons. He was not. He was being helpful, that was all.

It was completely innocent.

~♕~

The next afternoon Thranduil dressed with extra care and sprinkled a generous dash of his best perfume. At a concert like this the king would naturally be in focus and he needed to mind his appearance. That was all there was to it, no second thoughts at all.

He hesitated at the stand with his winter crown, a tiara shaped like bare branches with silver snowflakes and diamond ice crystals. He knew he looked very good in it but it was not comfortable to wear, and the concert would be lengthy.

His sense of fashion won. Wincing slightly he put it on.

At the lake, the temporary seats were filling up fast and the large cavern echoed with the murmur of subdued voices combined with the usual disorganized toots, whines and honks as the musicians tuned their instruments.

Thranduil immediately spotted Thuriniel huddling by one of the silver trees. Poor elleth. Would she ever get used to situations like this? Knowing how little she liked crowds he found it very brave that she had accepted his invitation so readily.

"There you are!" As she left the tree he saw she wore a lovely outfit as well, a figure-hugging dress in a pale blue that went perfectly with her eyes. In the dim light of the cave her eyes sparkled like they were full of stars.

She was simply gorgeous.

Taking her hand he put it to his lips without thinking, breathing in the sweet smell of rose essence on her wrist. Then he kissed it, allowing his lips to linger just a little too long.

When he put her hand on his arm he didn't dare look at her. "Our seats are in the raised dais over there. Shall we go?"

"My pleasure," she replied a bit breathlessly.

They ascended the short stair and took their seats. A new waft of Thuriniel's perfume reached his nostrils as she sat down and her arm brushed against his. He hoped she wouldn't move her chair aside and was glad when she didn't. He enjoyed feeling her so close.

Then the music began and Thranduil tried to concentrate on it.

It was certainly not easy.

After a while Thuriniel leaned closer, putting a hand on his shoulder so she could whisper in his ear. "This is stunning! They are really talented."

Her breath tickling his neck sent chills down his spine and her hand radiated warmth through his silk coat.

He swallowed thickly. Lowering his face to her ear, he allowed himself another mesmerizing sniff of her flowery scent before replying. "Indeed," he murmured. "And they should. They cost me a fortune."

She chuckled warmly. "I dare say you can afford it."

Then their gazes met and her smile slowly waned.

Thranduil drowned in her eyes. He couldn't look away.

As if she was a magnet he felt himself lean closer. And closer. And–

The sound of applause broke the spell; the musicians had finished their first piece. Guiltily Thranduil turned his face toward them, clapping with feigned enthusiasm and fervently hoping nobody in the audience had looked his way and noticed him on the verge of kissing another ellon's wife.

He must be more careful.

~♕~

Legolas' broodiness and silence didn't get better, rather it grew worse. He appeared more distant than ever and mostly spoke to Lasriel in monosyllables if he spoke at all. And he never suggested reading together again.

It felt like they were strangers under the same roof and she hated it.

He still came to her bed every night, and though he no longer had to touch himself to manage to finish, he looked like it was just another necessary task, one that he didn't particularly enjoy.

The act itself was still awkward and embarrassing, but Lasriel was slowly beginning to get used to it and found it had some merits. It was the only time she felt he was truly present, there and then, and in addition watching his eyes become unfocused and his breathing erratic gave her a sense of power. Even if he wasn't attracted to her he must at least find her body pleasing, or else he was a very good actor.

And as always she liked feeling his weight over her and being allowed to touch him.

About a week after the dinner at Faramir's the new arrivals from Lothlórien had finished building their houses, so Legolas' brought them and most of the other foresters with him on a journey to check on the more distant plantations.

The first night home alone felt strange. For the first time since Lasriel arrived in Ithilien there was no knock on her door and no Legolas in her bed.

She missed it. Despite everything, she missed it terribly.

The day was lonely too, doing her chores and then doing his as well, feeding the animals and mucking out their pen, bringing water to both them and the house and cooking dinner only to herself.

On the fourth morning Galion came by to ask if she needed anything else from the market, apart from the objects she had already put on his list previously.

With Legolas away Lasriel didn't feel much like home decorating anymore, but then she had an idea. "Why don't I go with you?" she suggested. "I might spot something I didn't know I needed."

He looked pleased. "Sure. It is a dull trip and I don't mind company."

On the road he explained he usually went to the market no more than twice a month because he disliked it so much. "I don't trust the humans there. It always feels like they are secretly laughing behind my back." He sighed and added rather bitterly: "I am a butler; I know about wine and what food goes with it. That's it. This assignment is wasted on me."

Lasriel felt sorry for him. "It was cruel of Thranduil to send you away."

His cheeks reddened. "I know why he did it. I stole from him," he admitted.

"Wine?"

He nodded sadly. "I have terrible self-discipline. I just couldn't resist a taste, and if I had one taste I couldn't resist a second one. I suppose I'm better off here with less temptations around."

Lasriel wisely refrained from mentioning the prevalent smell of alcohol in his breath. Something he must be drinking even here, but that was his problem and her meddling wouldn't help.

When they arrived in the marketplace Lasriel eagerly dismounted and started making a round to see what they had to offer. The market was much larger than the one she was used to in Lake-town, but also very similar with all the bustle and shouting that humans seemed so fond of. The din, the smells and the sights of the many objects for sale brought her right back to happier days when all she had to worry about was making ends meet, and hiding from her mother afterwards where she had been.

Very soon it became evident why Galion hated this chore so much. The salesmen took advantage of him, both with short-changing and – she suspected – manipulated scales, and just as he had said they exchanged shrewd leers behind his back.

After witnessing the poor ellon enduring that treatment twice she couldn't resist. "Can I try it next time? I love shopping."

"Really?" He looked at her like she had said she loved orcs.

"Really."

In the new stall things went very differently. Lasriel had already gone round to compare prices and knew what would be fair, even though the coin here was different from at home. In no time she was happily haggling with the trader and when she was done she had bought twice as much for a third of the price he first offered.

Galion was awed. "You are brilliant at this! Please continue."

He didn't need to ask twice, and when finally everything on the list was bought the pack horse was so loaded the poor girl could hardly walk.

"Time to go home?" Galion glanced at the sun that was already past its high point.

"Just one more thing: that book about grass weaving. You said there was a Haradrim shop here?"

The shop was a real one, located in one of the stone houses and not a simple market stall. A small silver bell chimed when they entered it.

Lasriel stopped right at the door, taking it all in. It was amazing. The room was cozy, with beautiful carpets on the floors and interesting paintings and tapestries on the walls, and crowded with items, one more curious than the other. The air smelled of some unknown spice mingled with a sweet, fruity aroma.

A short, dark haired man in richly embroidered clothes stood behind the disk. He raised his eyebrows when he saw they were elves, but then bowed very low. "Madam, sir. Welcome. What can I do for you?"

Lasriel explained what she was looking for and the man nodded several times. "No problem, madam, I have many books. Let me check." He went into an adjoining room, passing through a transparent curtain made of tiny beads.

She used the time to examine the shelves, picking up tiny figurines and trying to open an intricately carved wooden box. In one shelf there was a ship miraculously stuffed into a glass bottle and in another a doll whose eyes felt like they followed her around the room.

There was an interesting looking game on a table, with pieces of smooth stone on a checkered board.

Galion picked up a rule leaflet and started to read.

"Ah, you like playing chess." The man had returned, dragging a loaded bookshelf on wheels.

"Chess?" Lasriel repeated the foreign word. "Nay, I have never tried it."

"For a lovely elf like you I can make a very good price. Very good indeed."

She didn't let his flattery fool her. "I don't need a game. I have nobody to play with anyway."

"Ah, but your friend here, no? For you, sir, I can make a special price. Very reasonable price indeed. Perhaps as a gift for the beautiful lady?"

"It does seem fun." Galion put down the rule leaflet and picked up a piece shaped like a horse. "We have money over now that you did the shopping."

"You have good taste, sir." The man rubbed his hands together. "Follow me to the counter here. I shall give you a very reasonable price."

Lasriel suspected the reasonable price would be around three times what the game was worth, but she had no time to haggle at the moment. One of the books on the shelf had drawn her attention.

Glancing to make sure nobody saw, she soundlessly slid it out. The title was in Haradrim but the front image was... telltale. Inside there were more images, one more daring than the other. Enthralled, she couldn't stop turning the leaves. It seemed like an instruction. An instruction on... how to do it.

She badly needed a book like that. Was it possible to find one written in Sindarin or Westron?

Galion had finished buying the game and Lasriel guiltily pushed the book back, feigning great interest in another one that appeared to be about oliphaunts.

"Ah, I see you found the System of Nature. Very interesting, but do you read Haradrim, madam?"

"Uh, I don't, nay." She put it back.

"But then you must buy this!" He put another volume in her hand. "For you, I can make a good price."

A Haradrim-Westron dictionary! With that she could maybe translate the... but no. Buying a book like that in front of Galion was absolutely out of the question.

Maybe she could come here alone some other time?

When they left the Haradrim shop a while later they carried both the chess game, the dictionary, two books about grass weaving (one Haradrim and one Westron), and several bags of spices and oils the man insisted they must try. Nearly half the money Lasriel saved in the marketplace was gone.

Galion didn't seem to mind. "Would you like to play the game with me tonight? My evenings are utterly dull."

She grinned at his happy countenance. "Why not? My evenings are dull too with my husband away." She didn't add that they were usually dull with him at home too.

On the road back they overtook another company, on sturdy mountain ponies. Lasriel recognized the dwarves from Faramir's dinner the other day.

"Good day," said the foreman politely, lifting his helmet in a greeting. Apparently dwarves always wore helmets whether they were warriors or not.

"Good day, Master Glodson." Turning to Galion, who had not been present that time, Lasriel introduced them: "These are Faramir's workmen. They are building that beautiful residence on the hill."

"Workdwarves, if I may," said Cheery Glodson. But he said it kindly, apparently pleased with the praise. "It is a beautiful building, indeed. We never do anything by half measures."

"I wish I had a house like that. I can see the pillars all the way from here, and the arches where the windows will be. Will it be stained glass?"

"Ohh, I shall never get used to your elvish eyesight," said Cheery and sounded impressed. "Glad you asked. It will be stained glass, yes, set in lead."

The dwarves then took turns describing everything about the building and other projects they had been involved in, encouraged by Lasriel's obvious interest.

When they neared the colony she was quite reluctant to part with them.

"Is this where you live?" Cheery regarded the simple village with badly hidden pity. "I thought elves built beautiful cities."

"We usually do," Galion hurried to say. "This is temporary."

"Why don't you build something more robust at least? Timber, or stone maybe? These huts look like they could fall apart at the slightest breeze."

"We cannot afford that at the moment."

"Hm. But make bricks, then? You have plenty of clay in the marshlands and the river, and you can use reeds to mix in for strength. It would cost you nothing."

"How is it done?" Lasriel asked. If it was possible to make her own bricks she could build both a new house and a better oven.

Cheery helpfully explained the process in detail, and it didn't sound too complicated, at least if the weather remained dry.

Before they parted she pressed the dwarf's hand earnestly. "I am truly grateful, Master Glodson. This is just the project I need to keep myself busy."

The dwarf smiled warmly, at least it appeared so; it was hard to tell under that thick beard. "Please, call me Cheery. And next time I'm passing through I will check on you and see how you're doing. Best of luck!"

When the dwarves had left, Lasriel nearly danced her way home, eager to start making bricks. But first things first, she needed to make something quick to eat and then she had promised Galion a game of chess.

A dreadful smell hit her as she opened the door.

Legolas stood by the stove, stirring vividly in a smoking pot.

"Legolas! Are you home?"

"It would appear so, aye."

She put down her burden of spices, oils, groceries and the carpets she had bought for the floors and walls, and went to look at the sorry mess in the pot. "Um, what are you making?"

He gave her a suffering look. "I tried to make dinner because I was starving after riding all day. But I am a terrible cook, as I think I have told you." He glanced meaningfully at the list of chores on the wall. "Where were you?"

She swallowed. Something told her he wouldn't appreciate knowing about her haggling at the marketplace or buying strange items in a Haradrim shop. "Just... out. I picked up some groceries from Galion."

"I see. And that took you all afternoon? It has been hours since dinner time."

"Sorry." She looked at her hands. "Want me to cook something else?"

"It's too late now. Let us eat." He put the pot on the table a little too forcibly before opening the wrong cupboard. "Where are the plates?"

Lasriel fetched them from the other cupboard where they had always been, and then set out mugs and cutlery as well.

They ate the burned meal in silence and afterwards Legolas' yawned rather demonstratively. "I'm tired; I shall go to bed soon. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Then there would be no chess tonight she figured, and no sleeping with Legolas either. At least she had her new brick project left to look forward to tomorrow, that was something.

And then, maybe one day she could return to Osgiliath and take another look at that interesting book...

A/N:

Good old weaponized incompetence. A perfect strategy if you don't want to do something... such as learning to cook.(irony) ;)