Chapter Eighteen : Beware the Nursemaid

The tender moment was broken by the sound of a hesitant knock on the doors to ThranduilÂ’s study. Father and son reluctantly broke the comforting hold and Legolas quickly wiped his tearful eyes with the back of his hands. He smoothed out his shirt and signalled his preparedness to his father with a slight nod. Thranduil smiled in return and called out to whoever waited outside.

“Enter,” came the brief command.

A single large door swung open to reveal Arienur, one of the KingÂ’s many advisors.

Legolas knew the elf well but they had never been close friends. Arienur was always serious and his face bore a perpetual frown, the young Prince could not recall a single occasion where he had ever seen the older elf smile. But what he lacked in pleasant humour, he more than made up for in his ability to barter goods.

The elf bowed respectfully before his liege, causing his chestnut tresses to momentarily hide his face.

“Apologies my King, but the trade negotiations appear to have come to an end, it seems both sides have finally reached an accord, however I wish to seek your approval before a final settlement is agreed upon and there will be documents requiring your signature and seal,” he explained, indicating to the collection of parchments tucked safely under his left arm.

“Of course Arienur,” the King beckoned, “come in, leave the documents with me and I shall examine them as soon as is possible.”

Legolas caught a brief flash of dissatisfaction on the advisors face before it quickly returned to its neutral demeanour. It seemed that the advisor was keen to see matters settled as soon as possible in order to see the Lake-town delegation promptly on their way and before they had time to change their mindsÂ…Â…..again.

The Prince decided that he would keep his father from his duties no longer. He had been very pleased with the way things had passed between them so far, he could wait for another time to discuss the many other matters which were currently on his mind, besides he needed more time to think upon how he would broach the subject of his proposed move to Ithilien.

“Adar, by your leave, I shall see to our guest and leave you free to attend your duties,” the Prince bowed before his father and Lord.

Realising that his son had already made up his mind and would not be wheedled into changing it, he gave him leave to call on Gimli.

“Very well my son, go to your friend and I shall see you both later at dinner.”

Legolas bowed respectfully once more and quietly made to leave the room. As he passed by the KingÂ’s advisor, Arienur caught his attention.

“We are most fortunate to have you safely returned my Prince, your people and the trees have missed you, you have done us a great service,” said the dour elf as he performed a formal obeisance.

“You have my thanks Arienur, it is good to be home and as for my service…….. it was no more than any other elf in this Kingdom would willingly undertake.”

With that parting comment the young elf left his fatherÂ’s study and unfortunately missed the ghost of a rare smile which graced the advisorÂ’s face.

“Come old friend, let me see how our people shall fare in your latest dealings with the men of Lake-town,” the King beckoned as he made his way over to his desk.

“Of course my King.”

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Thranduil had taken his time and poured over the many documents brought to him by his advisor. Some matters needed further clarification but all in all it seemed as if Arienur had once again managed to strike a bargain which would be of benefit to the
inhabitants of Eryn Lasgalen.

He dipped a long white quill into the glass ink pot one last time and signed his signature with an elegant flourish. Then he carefully placed a red wax stick into the yellow flame of a near by candle and watched as a generous amount of wax dropped onto the parchment. Before it cooled he pressed his seal firmly into the pliable material and then blew gently over it as it hardened.
He meticulously checked over everything one last time then handed the various documents to the waiting advisor.

“Please see that these documents reach the proper parties concerned Arienur, no doubt you are as anxious as I to see the delegation safely on their way,” the King teased lightly, knowing how his old friend felt about the men of Lake-town.

ArienurÂ’s countenance took on a look of feigned innocence.

“I know not of what you speak my Lord, as for the documents, I shall see to them at once,” he said as he carefully gathered the precious bundle of documents representing several days of hard negotiating.

Bowing low before his liege one last time, the trusted advisor hastily left the chamber, leaving the King of Eryn Lasgalen alone once more but not for long.

Thranduil returned to the fire side and gingerly threw another small log into the greedy flames, as the wood crackled in the building heat he retrieved his glass and drank the remainder of his wine. Standing before the glowing embers, his mind began to wander as his eyes focused on the hypnotic dancing flames but his private musings were disturbed by yet another knock on his solid doors.

“Enter,” he called out once more.

A single door was pushed open without hesitation as Gwaithwen entered the KingÂ’s personal study. She carried with her a small wicker basket filled with short logs in case the KingÂ’s stock needed to be replenished.

“I have brought you more wood my Lord,” she said, explaining her appearance.

It was a ruse of course, her true intention was to calculate the KingÂ’s humour and thus judge how things had gone between father and son. She cared deeply for Legolas and she would not see him worry and suffer unnecessarily, the young elf had endured much already.

“Of course Gwaithwen,” Thranduil replied as evenly as possible.

It took considerable effort not to allow his scepticism colour his voice. The wily elf maiden was up to something and he had a pretty good idea what, but he would play along.

As she crossed the room to the hearth, Thranduil moved to refill his glass. Gwaithwen laid down the basket beside the identical one already there, she could see that the basket was still quite full.

Perhaps I should have used a different excuse, she thought.

Unwilling to leave the study and give up so quickly, she removed a long slender taper from a box beside the fire.

“It grows dark my Lord, shall I light more candles,” she asked, already lighting the taper in the fire.

“If you wish,” came the neutral reply.

Gwaithwen then moved about the room lighting extra candles here and there, every now and then she would steal a glance at the King who would catch her each time as his intent eyes followed her every move over the wide rim of the glass held before his face.

Gwaithwen knew that look and she saw flashes of barely veiled humour in his eyes, he was laughing at her, she knew then she had not fooled him for an instant. So she tried to take some of the focus away from herself.

“I see my Lord has not eaten any of his luncheon,” the house maid accused as her eyes looked to the untouched tray of fruits, bread and cheese she had prepared earlier.

“I had not the taste for it,” he lied, in truth he had been much too angry earlier to eat.

“But you have taste for the wine I see,” she censured once more.

Emotions rolled swiftly like the fast flowing currents of a river as humour changed to annoyance as the King felt unnecessarily mothered by the maid.

“Gwaithwen…….may I remind you that you are my son’s nurse maid and not mine,” the King chastised brusquely and then proceeded to drain his glass.

“A position which I would not wish to reverse for all the mithril in Moria my Lord, thought I doubt the young Prince would like to hear that you still think he requires a nurse maid,” she teased lightly.

“That is not what I meant and well you know it,” he pointed out, trying to remain stern but was fast losing the battle.

It was difficult to remain angry with Gwaithwen, they had been through much together since the death of his beloved wife and he knew he could never repay her for the loving way she helped him to raise his son.

“Aye my Lord, I know, he has grown much since he has been away, I doubt he shall ever have need of a nurse maid’s services again,” she sighed sadly, knowing now that there would be many experiences she would never share with the Prince again for he had indeed grown up and moved on.

Thranduil heard the sorrow in the maidÂ’s voice and saw the regret clearly on her face.

He moved to be beside her at the fire and gently touched her on the shoulder.

“He may have no need for a nurse maid Gwaithwen but I suspect he shall always have need of you for you are much more than that to him,” he consoled as he tried to comfort her.

She looked up at her King with tearful eyes and yet she smiled, silently thanking him for his kind words.

“Come sit down,” he offered, smiling, “for I sense you have questions you wish to ask, even though you are trying your hardest not to ask them.”

If she had her spoon with her, she probably would have been sorely tempted to use it on her King at this moment, it was probably for the best then that she did not.

“Thank you my Lord,” she replied as she sat down in the chair previously occupied by her former charge.

“Would you like some wine,” he asked politely.

“Nay my Lord, I shall wait till the feast later,” she answered equally polite, still hesitant to ask what she really desired to know.

Sensing this Thranduil decided to put her out of her misery, she above all deserved to know how things stood between him and his beloved son.

“All is well Gwaithwen,” he said softly.

She looked at him and studied his features for a brief moment then breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks be to the Valar,” she whispered under her breath.

“We discussed much while he was here, though I sense there are other matters he will raise ere he leaves, however we have settled matters concerning the dwarf, I have agreed to accept him as Legolas’ friend and he is welcome in my halls, in fact I have come to the opinion that his friendship with Gimli may be of great benefit to him,” Thranduil admitted.

“That is good to know Thranduil,” she said relieved yet again, as she slipped into addressing the King on a familiar basis. She was one of the very few elves in the Kingdom that could call upon that privilege but she had earned it.

“You know he loves him very much,” she stressed.

“I know I could here it clearly in his words,” Thranduil disclosed.

“Nay Thranduil, I speak of the dwarf,” she revealed.

The King merely raised one lone interested eyebrow.

“Think of it, he has come here of all places by his own volition for the sake of friendship, he has placed himself in your son’s trust in a realm where he knows there is no love for his kind, where his father was detained and where he knew he would
eventually meet you……..it could not have been an easy decision and yet he made it willingly because he cares deeply for your son,” she explained, “and I have witnessed how they react together, there is playful banter and jibbing but there is also a deep respect and comradeship……I do believe they would trust one another with their own lives.”

The King nodded in agreement, he knew that his son did not make friends easily or lightly and yet when he did offer his companionship it was usually to people he shared similar traits with, therefore this dwarf must be a courageous, trustworthy and
honourable being.

“Yes, Legolas said as much in the dwarf’s defence……..in fact he actually said that they had much in common, which brings me to another yet similar matter dear Gwaithwen,” the King said in a mock threatening tone.

“Oh my Lord and what matter would that be,” she enquired as innocently as her voice would allow, knowing that she was some how in trouble.

“It has come to my attention that you seem to feel that having your Prince share similarities with your King is a bad thing, something along the lines of he has too much of my blood in his veins, I believe were the words used,” the King accused lightly,
demanding an explanation.

“Oh come now Thranduil, you know I speak the truth and do not dare to deny it,” she admonished, “that elf shares the same stubborn, pig-headed, wilful and reckless traits shared by your father’s line and you know it and I can give you a million examples how he was just the same as you were when you were growing up, while only two days before he left for Imladris he…….”

Thranduil sighed as Gwaithwen proceeded with her litany of examples of how alike they were while he inwardly groaned knowing there was no escape, maybe his son was right, this discussion was not going how he had intended, he has stirred up a hornetÂ’s nest and perhaps his ears would be left burning after all.

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