Kingsfoil [Thranduil] LOTR

Stunning

...Four hundred years ago...

She had never seen him before and had only heard stories, so when the day finally came, Narylfiel was fairly certain that he could hardly live up to her expectations. After all she was a young impressionable elleth with a very vivid imagination. Her father had told her stories about his bravery during the Battle of the Last Alliance, her aunt had filled her ear with tales of times that she had seen him pass by on the way to Dale, a set of sleek elven warriors on either side of his mount. He rode taller than most in the saddle and, in her aunt's words, was impossibly fair.

Yes, she could imagine quite a bit.

So when at last she had a chance to see the King of the Woodland Realm for herself on a fateful day in Dale, Narylfiel thought she was better prepared than most for the meeting.

She could not have been more wrong.

She was glad, so glad, that her neighbor Barathion went through the door first that day, clumsily explaining their errand to the king and giving her a chance to collect herself before necessity would require introductions. For just a moment there when she first peeked at the king sitting at his desk, Narylfiel found herself speechless, her heart strangely aflutter in her chest.

She could not have named for you the strange feeling coursing through her veins that day, but she felt as though all of Arda might have fallen away and been replaced with a brighter, more luminous version of itself.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
July 3018

Thranduil. Long had he been her refuge, her confidante, her rock, but only now, Narylfiel felt more inclined to punch him in the face. She was sure that it had been on his orders that her patrol duty with the Forest Guard had been cut short.

She tapped her foot impatiently outside the king's study, while one of the royal guards secured permission for her to enter. She hardly ever had to wait, for she was a regular visitor to the king, but the guard Elfir must have sensed that something was amiss. He was probably warning off the king right now. Caution: crazy elleth outside. Narylfiel narrowed her eyes at the thought until Thranduil's voice called for her admittance. She brushed past Elfir with a sneer, almost feeling bad at the abject look of hurt in the elf's eyes. He had long been one of her favorites, ever since she was a young elleth, but no one, no one, could ever rise so high in her estimation as King Thranduil.

Even in her angry, generally disgruntled, 'I really want to hate you right now' frame of mind, Narylfiel almost forgot herself as their eyes met across the room. He was just so...stunning? Handsome beyond compare? Immaculate? She had grown up under the protection of his halls, as one of his favourite companions, and still she struggled to find words to describe him. She broke eye contact and pointed a smudged finger at him. "You!" she bit off the word. "Did you, or did you not, tell your son to send orders requesting my return to the palace?"

Thranduil eyed her for a minute, gauging for himself the level of her pique. In truth, he sort of enjoyed seeing Narylfiel worked unto a huff, her cheeks faintly pink and her eyes blazing. "I am glad to see you returned safely, Narylfiel," he told her, his voice as smooth and warm as the cup of tea in his hand. He took a slow sip and crossed his legs, leaning back in his chair, comfortable.

Her eyes sparked. "You did not answer the question, my lord," she prompted him.

"No, I did not," replied the king, faint amusement coloring his tone.

"No, you did not send the order, or 'No' as in you did not answer my question?" She prompted him.

"Legolas sent the order, Narylfiel," corrected the king as he gestured toward the settee by the fire. "Have a seat. Try some of these delicious tarts, your favorite," he tempted her.