Chapter 15: Behaving like an elfling

Later that afternoon, after the guests had time to recover from their journey and the merrymaking, when the noon sun was broiling in the sky, a servant knocked lightly on Thranduil’s office door.

“Come,” he replied distractedly, not looking up from the reports in front of him. He was surrounded by his council and assistants as they led him through the afternoon’s work reviewing patrol reports and letters from village leaders and communications from Mannish representatives and a thousand other things. It was days like this one when Thranduil wondered how--and why--his father had ruled Eryn Galen for three millennia. He had done it for barely a yén and he was ready to go mad. There had to be a more efficient way to manage all this information.

The servant entered—Thranduil heard that—but he had not spoken yet. The king’s brow knit together. He looked up and found himself faced with one of the servants from Lothlorien and Lindomiel. His expression instantly softened.

“I am not certain you can find the time for that tour,” she said studying the pile of parchments, ledgers and other assorted materials on the desk.

He looked at her wryly. “Just watch me,” he said opening a drawer on the desk and sweeping all the reports he had been reading into it. “Suddenly diplomacy--and specifically forging ties between Lothlorien and Eryn Galen by entertaining you--is my highest priority,” he said, smiling. He stood and offered her his arm.

“Thranduil, what do you think you are doing?” Engwe exclaimed sharply.

As breakfast that morning had proven, the king found Engwe’s character difficult to deal with personally and politically. Engwe often seemed to be of the opinion that it was he and not Thranduil who ruled the council and Eryn Galen. He also was a very effective military strategist and tactician, so Thranduil could not afford to dismiss him. At least not from his council. Today he intended to show him a very dismissive attitude.

“I am going to keep a promise to visiting dignitaries to give them a tour, Lord Engwe. We will continue this in the morning. You are free until then.”

Engwe’s eyes widened angrily. “This will not wait, Thranduil,” he said imperiously, stabbing his finger down on the desk over where the ledgers and parchment now lay in the drawer.

The King of Eryn Galen turned and opened the drawer where he had shoved the papers, looking into it dramatically. Then he looked at Engwe. “No, it seems you are wrong, Engwe. All those reports waited right there in the desk drawer for me. They will continue to do so until morning. And so will you. Good afternoon.”

With that, he led Lindomiel towards the door.

Lindomiel laughed lightly as they walked away. “I fear I am disturbing the peace in Eryn Galen,” she said glancing meaningfully at the shocked looks Thranduil’s advisors were casting his way as they left his office and headed for the stairs leading to the ground.

“They are not accustomed to me yet,” he explained leading her down the stairs. “My adar worked dawn to dusk. I admit I am beginning to see why. I am just not yet ready to surrender. So when I do not behave as my adar did, it shocks everyone a bit.” He smiled at her. “But that is enough conversation about duty. Did you rest well this morning? Is your talan satisfactory?”

She graced him with a radiant smile. “It is lovely. That stream that runs by it…is it fed by the river?”

“The Celduin? Yes, it is. There is a tributary of the river that flows through here. It is almost as wide as the Celduin in places and provides us with the necessary water and transportation.”

“I would love to walk by the river if we can while we are looking around.”

Thranduil agreed, all too happy to show her anything that might interest her. He spent several hours showing Lindomiel the sites in his capital. It lay in the western glens of the Emyn Duir amongst the firs, beeches, oaks and elms. The elves around the capital lived in simple flets in the trees or cottages on the ground. The public buildings were located on a large clearing where the previous night’s festivities had been held. The clearing served as a public courtyard where elves met to conduct business or entertain themselves. On its edges in various places were several small decorative gardens cultivated simply to provide a beautiful place to sit. To the northern side of the courtyard stood a Great Hall used for official functions as well as for celebrations. A public dining hall with kitchens behind it was located near the Great Hall. The elves that lived in the capital, especially those that served the Royal Household, took communal meals in this hall. Thranduil and his family regularly dined there as well. On the southern side of the courtyard stood the flets and other buildings that housed the Royal Family and its offices. In addition to the family quarters and the king and council’s offices, this series of buildings also included a library that stored both records and literature. Paths led from the courtyard into the forest to the cottages and flets of the citizens. One such path ended at the river tributary and some relatively shallow pools along its banks where it was common to swim. This was the last place Thranduil showed to Lindomiel. This tributary of the River Running flowed mostly east to west along the northern side of the capital. It was fed by runoff from the mountains as well as the main river. It ran deep and swift in places and was a powerful presence in the capital. Lindomiel was very fond of the water, so it piqued her interest.

 “Do you have time to walk along the river for a while?” she asked.

“As you like,” he replied allowing her to take his arm and pull him along the banks.

They walked for nearly an hour before she led him over to sit on a large stone next to the river under a lone tree where the river’s water pooled peacefully. The water lapped gently against the rock where they were seated, making a lulling sound that, combined with the afternoon heat and the fact he had not slept, threatened to drag Thranduil into a catnap by the river.

“I love the water,” Lindomiel said, pulling Thranduil from his reverie. He happily focused on her. She idly dipped her hand into the river and her face brightened. “Oooh, that is warm.” She quickly removed her shoes, hiked her skirts a little and dangled her feet in the water.

It looked like a good idea to Thranduil. Though they were sitting in the relative shade of a tree that overhung the river, it was dreadfully hot. The long walk through the forest and now along the river had left him ready to cool down a bit. That was not likely to happen until the sun set. Even in the shade it was stifling. At least he could have a drink from the river. He hopped down from the rock and bent down enough to scoop some water into his hands to drink.

When he did, a wave of water hit him squarely in the side of his face.

He looked with shock at Lindomiel, who was giggling uncontrollably. She had splashed water with her foot. A lot of water. The whole side of Thranduil’s face and hair was drenched. At his astonished expression, she only laughed harder.

“You must have wanted some water if you were bending over the river,” she giggled.

“A drink, not a bath,” he exclaimed indignantly while wiping water from his face dramatically.

“A bath! Now that is a wonderful idea. It is terribly hot.” With that, Lindomiel began to unlace the bodice of her dress.

Thranduil’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “What in the world are you doing?”

“I am going for a swim. Would you care to join me?”

“Here?” he asked, averting his eyes from her hands as they worked the lacings of her gown.

“Yes, here,” she replied.

“There are pools in the city where we normally…”

“Yes, but they are at least an hour walk away and far too crowded right now for my taste. You are not even armed. It must be fairly safe here.” She began to slip the now fully unlaced gown off her shoulders.

He stopped her with a hand on one of those lovely, soft shoulders. ‘Valar!’ he thought, averting his eyes again before speaking out loud. “I am not carrying a sword or bow, but I assure you, I am armed. More to the point, I am also always followed by at least one guard. You may not see him, but he is here, probably in the trees near the forest line. He is undoubtedly very curious as to why you are undressing.”

She smiled at that. “Then we shall have to make sure that he sees it is because I am taking a swim.” She shrugged off his hand and slipped the gown off before he could say anything else.

Thranduil turned his back automatically. She was still wearing a silken shift that covered her fully. It fell to her mid-calf, had a very modest neckline and had sleeves that reached her mid-arm. But it was also white. And very thin. He could hear her wading into the water and moaning in pleasure as she did.

“This feels so good. The temperature is just perfect. Are you sure you do not want to join me Thranduil?”

He dared a glance behind him. She was submerged in the water to nearly her chin.

She smiled when he turned. “You might as well come for a swim. You are half soaked anyway.” She laughed. “Your hair is dripping on your tunic and that is not going to do the fabric any good at all. You should at least take that off. Are you not hot?”

Without a word, Thranduil leaned to the side slightly and ran his hand through his hair to wring out the water. He noticed the shoulder of his tunic and frowned. She was right. It was soaked and likely to be ruined. He scowled and began unfastening it. Perhaps if he put it in the sun so it would dry quickly. That done, he walked back over to the rock and sat in the shade.

“Your adar is going to have quite a few words with me when you come back to the city soaking wet,” Thranduil commented as he sat on the rock. Looking down on her from the rock, he could easily see how the thin shift clung to her in the water, outlining the curves of her body. Her hair trailed out behind her, carried slightly by the current, an undulating wave of gold. He forced himself to look away.

Lindomiel pouted at him dramatically. “I cannot believe you will not come for a swim. It is really delightful. Come on. Take your boots off and come in the water.”

“I do not think so, my lady.”

She frowned at him playfully. Without warning, she launched herself in his direction, catching him by one leg. He pulled back, alarmed, but could do very little without hurting her. Before he could mount any real resistance, she tugged off one boot and threw it near his tunic in the sun.

“Lindomiel, what are you doing?” he exclaimed as she let go of the first leg and seized the boot remaining on the other in both hands. This foot was planted firmly on the rock where he had jerked it reflexively when she attacked the first boot. She began to haul at the boot without any real hope of actually moving his leg. He was relieved when she gave up the struggle.

If he had thought she had surrendered, he sorely underestimated her. She gave up on the boot. Now she stood up in the hip-high water and threw her arms around his waist, water from her shift soaking his shirt and leggings.

“Lindomiel!” he fairly squealed trying to stand up and pull away. The movement only threw him off balance on the rock. With that advantage, she easily twisted him into the water using her full weight to pull him completely down. The King of Eryn Galen landed in the river with a loud splash.

He surfaced immediately, spluttering furiously. “What in the name of the Valar do you think you are doing?” he exclaimed, reaching under the water, pulling off his remaining boot and pouring water from it dramatically.

“I offered you the opportunity to save your boot but you refused…”

“I cannot believe you did that!” he said, still fuming.

She looked at him contritely. “You are not truly angry with me, are you?” she asked softly.

He returned her gaze and sighed. “Not really,” he replied in a quiet voice and with reflexive gallantry due to her distressed expression.

“Good,” she said, smiling again. And she splashed him in the face.

“By the Valar you are asking for trouble,” he said wiping water from his eyes and feeling a smile begin to tug at his lips.

When he had finished, she splashed him again.

“See here, you wench,” he said laughter coloring his voice. He lunged toward her.

“Wench!” she exclaimed indignantly and splashed him again while hastily backpedaling to elude his grasp.

She was far too slow. He picked her up bodily, lifted her out of the water, let her fall back into the river and shoved her down with a hand on her shoulder. As soon as her head dunked under the water, he removed his hand, but she did not resurface. He had a moment of fear at that until he felt her hands pull his legs out from under him. She again used her full weight against him, this time falling on top of him in the water to shove him under.

When he stood, he was growling and she was laughing her head off. He glared playfully at her and forced a wave of water at her with one strong swipe of his entire upper arm and hand. She shook the water off easily and laughed even harder, capturing his wrists with her hands to prevent him from splashing her again.

He laughed involuntarily. Her grip on his wrists was tight, as if she sincerely thought she could hold him. He was tempted to make it clear to her that she was woefully unqualified for that task. It would be all too easy to pull from her grasp and return an attack she could not hope to defend herself against. And the thought of doing so amused him. But he was acutely aware how pleasant he found even this simple contact. If he allowed the game to escalate too much, there was far too much in this situation to take advantage of. He did not trust himself not to fall into further temptation. He was far too attracted to her and he could no longer deny it to himself.

“You are a menace, my lady,” he finally said, effortlessly twisting his wrists from her grasp and sinking into the water up to his neck. He might as well enjoy himself now. He was soaked anyway.

She only laughed in reply and continued frolic in the water like an elfling.

Thranduil enjoyed the cool water and watched her, initially a relatively sedate figure next to her playfulness. But she drew him in—in more ways than one.  The sight of the water carrying her hair captivated him. He found himself hard pressed to restrain himself from reaching out to touch her hair as it floated around her shoulders. He also found the musical lilt of her laughter as she teased him distracting. And she did continue to tease him. Splashing him, pushing him over, dragging him into the deeper water or simply verbally taunting him into some sort of a response, Lindomiel led the King of Eryn Galen into simply foolish behavior that he had not indulged in for centuries. By the time she declared herself exhausted and headed to the shore, Thranduil was laughing harder than he could ever remember doing.

When she stood and walked to the banks, Thranduil remained in the water, following her with his eyes. Water streamed from her hair and off her shift. The thin white fabric left very little to the imagination as she emerged from the water, each step revealing more—the curve of her breasts, her slender waist, the swell of her hips. She was reaching to gather her hair and wring it out when Thranduil remembered himself. He hastily turned back to face the opposite shore of the river and heard her laugh at that when she turned around on the bank to see if he had followed her.

“Do you really think one of your guard is around here somewhere?” she asked as she wrung water from her hair.

“I am certain of it. At least one always follows me.”

“But he would be all the way over in those trees, right?”

“Yes,” he responded. “Why do you ask?” He dared a glance over at her. She was pulling the clinging shift away from her legs and wringing it out half-heartedly.

Seeing he had turned back around, she smiled at him. From her expression it was clear that she had no idea what effect the view she was giving Thranduil might inspire. “Because I need to wring out this shift or it will never dry enough for me to put my gown back on. Turn your back again, please.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened as he realized what she was going to do. He lowered his eyes and spun around quickly. “Lindomiel, you are not seriously going to…” He heard water pouring on the ground as she did indeed wring out the shift. He closed his eyes even though his back was fully toward her and found his breathing came with much more difficulty than it should. “Lindomiel you know you are standing on the open bank of the river. There is no way the guard does not see you.”

“Surely your guard would have enough honor not to stare,” she replied calmly. He no longer heard the water sound, but instead the flapping of fabric. Now she was apparently shaking out the shift.

Thranduil did not comment further. If he was the guard, hidden safely in the trees, he knew he probably would have stared. He shook his head. Elves were not overly modest, but they were not exhibitionists either. The elves in the pools closer to the city would have been swimming in leggings or shifts. In fact, Thranduil would have been considered very modest to leave his shirt on. He normally did not when he swam in the pools. And the ellyth often stepped behind a screen of shrubs to take off their shifts and wring them out after they emerged from the pools. Nothing they had done together would be considered unusual or improper. Somehow it seemed a little different out in the woods alone. With Lindomiel. Who he knew he was attracted to.

“You may turn around now,” she said calmly.

He did and looked cautiously at the bank. She was sitting in the sun next to his tunic, her shift back on and hanging more loosely since it was relatively drier. She was drawing her fingers through her hair to try to straighten it. Thranduil hauled himself from the river and sat next to her. After he did, he unfastened his shirt. If she could strip naked to wring out the shift, he could certainly at least dry his shirt somewhat. She did not bother to avert her eyes as he pulled it off and wrung it out. He looked at the damp shirt a moment and laid it on the grass next to his tunic rather than putting it back on. It would dry faster that way.

She smiled at that not making any pretense of concealing her appreciation of the view before her. The king laughed slightly and looked down.

“Thranduil would you do me the favor of untying this braid?” she asked turning around partially and grasping the braid down her back. “My hair will never dry while braided and it will tangle if I try to do it myself.”

Thranduil stared at the braid in her hand silently for a moment. He certainly wanted to comply with her request. He had spent the entire time they had been swimming thinking about what it would feel like to entwine his fingers in her hair. And that was why he hesitated now.

She looked over her shoulder at him, eyebrows raised slightly, an expectant look in her eyes. And nothing more. Many people would see her actions as flirtations, but he saw no such intent in her eyes. Drawing a quiet breath, he reached for the braid, banished any untoward thoughts and began untwisting it. Her hair was soft. Silky.

He shook his head slightly and searched for a distraction. “So tell me your first impression of Eryn Galen, my lady. Is it as fearsome as your lord father described?” he asked in a neutral tone of voice.

She grinned mischievously, looking around herself dramatically. “Strangely I see none of the horrors my adar described. Quite the contrary, I would have to say that my initial conclusion is that Eryn Galen is a lovely forest. Bright and beautiful. Denser than Lorien, I think, but so much greener. I love the forest at home, but the trees here seem so old and wise. I look forward to spending some time simply listening to them.”

Thranduil smiled despite his promise to himself that he would not pressure her or lay too much significance on first impressions. “I hope you will allow me to accompany you while you do so,” he replied softly. “And the people?” he continued, still in a neutral voice. “Who did you meet at the banquet last night?”

She smirked. “You brother, for one, as you know. Valar, Thranduil! He fits adar’s description of you far better than you do. He is quite a flirt.”

Thranduil laughed softly. “Yes, I was just saying to him this morning at breakfast that Lord Amglaur had me confused with my brother. But he is not the evil Oropherion that you were led to expect, I trust,” he teased.

“Hardly,” she responded with a giggle. “He was very courteous in truth. And your lady mother is very warm. I spoke to her briefly and I did mention the weaving to her as you suggested. She invited me to meet her tomorrow in her workshop. I am looking forward to that.”

“And did you meet anyone else?”

“Some of your advisors. A few other people casually. The elves that danced with me mostly.” She turned as much as his grasp on her hair would allow and looked at him mischievously. “You dance very well, my lord. When you dance at all. Do you not enjoy dancing?” she asked pointedly.

He smirked and tugged her hair playfully. “I love dancing, my lady, but etiquette does not permit a courteous person to monopolize every dance with a particular individual as my brother observed,” he replied with an exaggeratedly proper tone. He paused and added more softly. “And you might not like the attention you would get if I danced every dance with you.”

“Ohhh,” she responded dramatically. “So that is what I must do to see the true colors of the people of Eryn Galen…monopolize the attention of their king.” She paused for affect. “Yes, I was aware that some folks did seem to take more notice of me when I was with you. Ellyth primarily. Surprising, really. In Lorien I am more accustomed to attracting the attentions of ellyn,” she joked.

“I imagine you are,” he replied softly, notably not pursuing that line of conversation further. He had finished untying the braid and could not resist pulling his fingers gently through her damp hair under the pretense of straightening it.

She allowed him that liberty with a slight smile and then turned to face him again when he let his hands fall to his lap. “Again this unwillingness to discuss the topic of the attention that you attract. Why? Are you afraid I will see that my adar was correct and your brother is not the only flirt?” she asked with a playfully challenging tone.

His expression became serious at that. “Certainly not, my lady. As I said last night, I do not seek such attention. That is all.”

She studied him a moment. “So how is it that you are still an unmarried king?” she asked candidly, still looking at him intently and leaning back in the grass.

He looked at her sidelong. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

She raised her eyebrows with an amused look. “How could you have gone so long without getting married? You lived in Menegroth so you must be nearly four millennia old.”

“I am,” he replied dryly. “And you have already deciphered the answer to your question, my lady. I am from Menegroth. While my parents and I were fleeing from Doriath to Sirion to Lindon and trying to settle into a life in those places, I had no time to consider marriage. Then my adar moved here and we had to resettle. Then adar became king. Then there was war in Eregion between the elves and Sauron’s forces. Then the war in Mordor. And we moved several times from Amon Lanc further north. My life has hardly been stable enough for me to take time to seek a wife.”

She nodded, her expression neutral. “So this is not where your adar first settled when you came east?” she asked idly, changing the subject.

“Indeed not, my lady. We have actually moved north and further east three times since my adar became King of Eryn Galen.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Tell me about that. Why did you move? It seems a terrible lot of work.”

He looked at her a moment, lost as to the purpose of this interrogation and wondering what Amglaur had told her about Eryn Galen. Nonetheless, he began telling the stories she had asked for. It was rather later than he had planned when they wandered back to the city in damp clothes and with tangled hair.

*~*~*

Thranduil escorted Lindomiel to the stairs of her flet, but declined her request to join her family upstairs for dinner citing that he was soaking wet and needed to change into drier clothes. She excused him with a knowing grin and he fled before Amglaur had a chance to confront him. Nevertheless, he knew he could not hope to escape all commentary—especially that of his own family. As he walked by the sitting room in the royal chambers to his own rooms, most of his council was present.

“Tell us, since you abandoned afternoon council, do you intend to grace us with your presence at dinner, Thranduil?” called Engwe’s voice as the king passed by the entrance to the sitting room.

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. He did not appreciate Engwe’s tone or words earlier this afternoon. He stopped and turned into the sitting room, looking at his uncle evenly. “Yes, uncle, I intend to join the family for dinner. I declined Lindomiel’s invitation because I could not bear to miss dinner with you,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

No one reacted to his response because they were too shocked by his appearance.

“Thranduil, what happened?” Hallion breathed, his eyes running from Thranduil’s tangled hair to his damp tunic to his soaked leggings and ruined boot.

To their surprise, Thranduil only laughed softly. “I went for a swim,” he answered simply.

Aradunnon looked at him with bright eyes. “With your tunic and shirt and one boot on? I doubt it. Methinks you fell into the water somewhere and there is a story here,” he said teasingly. “Tell it, muindor nin. We will not let you escape otherwise.”

Thranduil returned his brother’s mischievous look, glancing quickly at the other occupants of the room. Celonhael looked equally amused. Hallion was concerned, but unable to conceal a smile as well. Golwon and Engwe appeared a little shocked and certainly confused. Fortunately, his mother was not present. Thranduil snorted softly.

“I did not fall into the water.” He looked down, shaking his head and laughing lightly. He knew the reaction his next statement would cause. “In truth, I was dragged…perhaps thrown would be the most honest description…yes, thrown into the river.”

“What?!” Aradunnon exclaimed, exploding with laughter. “You were with Lindomiel. She did this?”

Thranduil only nodded, still looking down and laughing. Hallion and Celonhael covered their mouths with their hands in an attempt to hide their amusement. Aradunnon made no such effort.

“Oh, I definitely like her, Thranduil,” Aradunnon declared firmly with dancing eyes. “Any maiden who would throw you in the river has my complete approval. Indeed, you desperately need such a lady in your life.”

“Any maiden who would throw the King of Eryn Galen into the river only demonstrates a complete failure to understand court propriety and respectable behavior,” Engwe replied stiffly. “Really, Thranduil. Such unseemly behavior. And look at you. Did you walk through the courtyard like that? How many people saw you? This maiden may be a child, but you are well past the age to behave like an elfling.”

Hallion cringed at Engwe’s words, expecting an explosion especially after the earlier confrontations that day at breakfast and during the council meeting. All eyebrows rose when Thranduil only burst out laughing.

Finally he looked at Engwe, still grinning. “Indeed,” he agreed calmly. “A good number of people saw Lindomiel and I coming back from the river and they all laughed at us. I have no doubt that I am quite a sight. I suppose I have behaved entirely like an elfling today. It was quite a bit of fun. I think it may have been very good for me and it was certainly good for you. If I were in any less of a perfect humor I would never tolerate the attitude you have demonstrated this day, uncle.” He paused. “And rest assured, Lindomiel is no child,” he concluded with a meaningful tone that caused Aradunnon to stare at his brother with wide, bright eyes. It sounded more like something he would say.

With that, Thranduil turned and left the sitting room.

When Thranduil's extremely proper valet, Sandethrin, helped him prepare for dinner, he raised his eyebrows at the utterly ruined boots and leggings and the state of the king’s hair, but said nothing. Thranduil just laughed to himself.

*~*~*~*

Ellon/ellyn--Male elf(s)

Elleth/ellyth--Female elf(s)

Adar/ada--Father/dad