~ Thranduil is Not Happy™. Wynne tries to talk reason with him. ~

50. A Furious Elvenking

"Adar," Legolas acknowledged, straightening his back.

Thranduil looked more regal than ever, wearing a spectacular gray tunic inlaid with tiny diamonds that created a dazzling brilliance together with his crown.

"What on Arda do you think you are doing?" His sharp, piercing eyes impaled them like they were his twin swords.

"Courting." Legolas' voice was steady but she felt his tension through their joined hands.

His father didn't reply. He didn't have to, that silent fury was more frightening than any words.

"Ada... Please..." Legolas swallowed, the feigned calmness swiftly dissolving. "I-uh figured, if you want to observe her, you could as well do it while we are courting." His forehead creased in defiance. "It is not like courtship is irrevocable."

"I thought we had an agreement." His voice could have frozen Mount Doom.

"Come." Legolas pulled on her arm, turning to walk away. Flee, more like it.

"Wait..."

She let go of him and went up to Thranduil, secretly wondering if she was sane. He towered over her, equally tall as his son, and his cool gaze sent tremors through her. There was not even a hint of friendliness in his eyes.

She reached out to take his hand, knowing that he would feel how much her own quivered. His many rings dug into her palm uncomfortably.

"We love each other, can't you see that?" she asked earnestly. "And if my behavior somehow displeases you, then teach me. I'm not stupid, I can learn." She silenced, hoping to discern a softness, a sign of resignation, but there was none. His clear eyes didn't even blink.

Suddenly she became annoyed with this cold-hearted statue of a king who thought he could command other people's feelings. She hated quarreling, she hated when others were angry, and she was sick and tired of having to constantly weigh her words and actions to keep someone placated.

Living in her mother's house had felt like cohabiting with a sleeping dragon. And now here Thranduil was behaving exactly the same way except he didn't sink to act out his rage physically.

She glanced at Legolas, taking in his sullen resentment, his jaw set and cheeks pale with anger and disappointment. Did Thranduil even know what Legolas had sacrificed to spare his father's heart? How much it cost him to stay when he wanted peace and healing in Aman. And this was how he was repaid, with cold fury and impossible demands.

A flood of emotion overtook her and she heard her mouth speak heartfelt words without asking her brain permission. "I make your son happy but you only drive him away!"

Then she realized what she had said and her anger dissolved. She dropped his hand like it had burned her. "Sorry... that was... I didn't really mean that. You love him, I know that." She took a step backwards. "I just don't think it's right to frighten and threaten others to get your way. Your own son too. That's not what a father ought to do. A father should be the one you go to to be comforted, not be the cause of the pain..." Her words tumbled over each other. Why couldn't she just shut up?

Thranduil remained silent and she hardly dared look at him after her outburst, but then she did anyway. His eyes were still fixed on her, but the coldness was gone, replaced by shock. As if he had been hit over the head, hard.

"Sorry," she mumbled again.

A hand caught hers. Legolas had come to stand by her side.

Thrandul's features smoothed and became an expressionless mask. "Then do as you please." He swept past them, striding toward the dining room without another word.

"Sorry." This time she said it to Legolas.

"I guess... that could have gone worse?" He smiled somewhat shakily and bent down to kiss her cheek with cold lips. "No need to apologize. You only told the truth."

The dining room was almost full when they got there. Three musicians on a dais in the corner played a merry beat and the guests were spread out in small groups, talking and laughing.

Wynne's eyes seeked out Thranduil, who was easy to spot in his shining clothes, but he didn't acknowledge them with so much as a glance.

So, it was going to be the silent treatment, then.

Despite the Elvenking's frostiness, she found herself enjoying the feast immensely. Legolas subtly arranged with the butler to be seated by her and then treated her most attentively during the meal. Galion, Sidra, Gimli and Éowyn sat around them and they soon found that the five of them got along really well.

When the musicians, by popular request, sang the Ballad of the Ring, they all joined in the chorus: "Brave, brave, brave / Brave the Hobbit!"

Sidra was on her third glass of wine and more talkative than ever. When the song had finished and the applause and cheering died out, she leaned somewhat unsteadily across Gimli to nudge Éowyn in the shoulder. "I'm so impressed with your part in the ballad. You must be an amazing swordswoman!"

"Thank you." Éowyn smiled amiably enough, but Wynne noticed a shadow pass over her fair face.

Maybe Legolas wasn't the only one with bad memories from their adventures.

"I'm curious about one thing though," Sidra continued. "When you went to war with an army of men... how did you manage to hide that you're a woman? I mean, didn't you need to pee?"

That made them all burst out laughing, Gimli loudest of them all. Seated between Sidra and Éowyn he seemed pleased like a meara in a cornfield.

A few chairs away Cheery looked less thrilled. Quite the opposite.

"Well, I crouched behind bushes so often my comrades probably thought I had the worst case of an upset stomach." She giggled. "But I was grateful to have Merry with me, for he at least knew about me. He helped smooth out many little difficulties along the way." Her grin widened. "But you would not believe the way men talk when they think there are no women around! It was... educational."

"I can imagine," sniggered Sidra. "I traveled with a group of uruk-hai, remember? They didn't care much about my sensitive ears."

"What did they say? Dinnae be shy, tell us!" Gimli moved closer to the Haradrim and lowered his voice. "Ye can whisper if ye wanna."

There was a shuffle when Cheery hastily stood. "I'm off. I shall be busy washing ma beard tonight," she hissed. With that she stomped away in her high-heeled boots.

Gimli didn't seem to be bothered by her outrage and remained calmly seated. "Well, talking about soldier's slur... we had some fine battles in that war, didnae we?" He looked nostalgic. "Both in Gondor and Rohan." Then he gave Legolas a sly look. "Do ye remember our wee competition at Helm's Deep, Master Elf? I got forty-two kills. How many did ye get, again?"

Legolas pretended not to have heard. He downed the contents of his glass, wincing slightly at the taste. "The wine down here is none too great," he remarked.

"Forty-one, was it nae?"

"Have I told you about that time when Master Gimli was caught by the Lothlórien elves?" Legolas refilled his glass from a crystal decanter. "It was right after he had told us how great his eyes and ears were. Then he almost walked straight into Haldir's arrow."

After everyone had laughed at that, Gimli retaliated by describing the drinking contest he and Legolas had had once.

"I did not have to be carried out of there," Legolas objected. "I could walk perfectly well."

"Really?" Éowyn cut in. "Because I remember having to ask a servant to help you to bed."

"Ach, he's nae a strong elf when it comes to the drink, ye ken." Gimli took a deep draught from his ale tankard that the hosts kindly had provided for their dwarven guests. "Poor wee laddie! We ought to give him fruit juice instead of wine."

"Maybe that was why he was so affected by the poppy medicine," suggested Galion, happy to get his revenge after Legolas exposed his misfortune with the Elvenking's wine barrels the other day.

"Poppies? Tell me all about it!"

Legolas gulped down his third glass, face redder than a Thaun Môr grape. "Would you like to take a walk outside, Wynne?" He rose unsteadily. "It is rather hot in here."

"I'd love to."

They left the others' laughter behind and went toward the patio, passing Thranduil on their way out.

He stood alone, wearing an indecipherable expression, distractedly swirling the wine around in his untouched glass.

A/N:

In the book Gimli won the killing-orc contest but in the movie PJ made it the other way around, and the drinking contest that Legolas won was only in the movies too. But I headcanon he lost both and embellished the truth a bit when he told the story to others. XD 

I mean, come one, dwarves are TOUGH.