Love and Hate - Alliances Made
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,835
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,835
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Love and Hate - Alliances Made
The dark panelled council chamber was gloomy in the afternoon light and the air seemed thick with tension. The king of the Woodland Realm sat, surrounded by his advisors and scribes, his outward appearance giving the impression of an elf whose full attention was on the words being spoken by the dark haired elf. But Cúdin, the King’s seneschal of a millennium knew better.
There was a storm brewing.
Thranduil tapped the tip of the quill in his hand against the table, a simple gesture, one that could be put down to any number of innocent reasons, a habit from his student days perhaps or a nervous gesture. Nay, perhaps not a nervous tick, for King Thranduil of Greenwood the Great was far from timid, rather he stood as a great oak, tall, strong in body and will, and noble as the greatest of elves.
Cúdin cringed as the advisor made yet another appeal to the King’s good nature, which he was sure, would only raise Thranduil’s ire. The King rolled his eyes and looked sharply at his advisor, Cúdin immediately rose.
”Good elves, you have given us much to think on, let us continue our
council on the morrow and please enjoy the hospitality of this realm until then.”
Thranduil rose abruptly and with nary a backward glance strode with sure
steps and a swish of robes out of the chamber. The seneschal made a hand
gesture and at the nod of a pale haired youth scurried after the king.
”My Lord?”
Thranduil paused briefly to look out of a window, giving the advisor time
to catch up to him and then spoke, “Remind me again Cúdin why I must be
present at these tedious meetings?”
The seneschal’s lips turned up slightly at the familiar game, “That would
be because you are King, Sire.” He said bowing slightly to emphasis his words.
”Ah, is that why it is?” Thranduil sighed and reaching the door to his private chambers entered, ignoring the guards posted in the corridor, and tossing the papers he was carrying onto the desk.
”I am tired of it, my friend, that elf would no doubt benefit from a spell in the dungeons, he is beyond impertinent.” Thranduil looked thoughtful for a moment as he undid the clasps on his outer robe. “Though I daresay he is fair enough, perhaps I should bed him and be done with it.”
”My Lord!” The seneschal looked horrified, “I hardly think bedding Lord Elrond’s young advisor will endear you to him.”
The king looked sharply at the advisor, “what do I care what Elrond thinks of me? We do not need what they are offering, and I care not for his friendship. I have always found that elf tedious.”
”My Lord at this time, perhaps we do not need this alliance, but there is a darkness coming. These woods are not as they once were, and the spiders grow ever more abundant. There may come a time, My King, when the warriors of our allies are all that stand between us and the darkness that seeks to extinguish us. We need this alliance.”
The king sighed heavily, “Aye you are right, my friend.”
Having discarded his formal robes, Thranduil pulled on a well-worn pair of brown suede leggings and a slightly oversized and rather shapeless green tunic. Sitting at the dressing table he pulled back his hair and braided it into one long plait that fell to dance against his lower back.
Cúdin was struck then by the similarity between the king and his son, save for the colour of his eyes, it would be easy to mistake one for the other when the king was dressed so casually.
”We should go over the reports that were submitted today, in preparation for tomorrow’s council.”
Thranduil fixed the seneschal with a tired gaze as he picked up his quiver, bow and finally a set of long knives. “Cúdin I appreciate your diligence, but there is naught that can persuade me to spend a moment longer inside with parchment and quill.”
”But My Lord, we should be prepared.”
”I trust you, old friend, to know what needs to be known on the morrow, I am going for a ride.”
Cúdin bowed his head, recognising well the finality in his King’s voice. “But you will be present for the evening meal?”
Thranduil smiled slightly, “perhaps, but if I should be ‘detained’ I am confident Legolas will act well as host in my stead.”
The seneschal bowed his head again as the king left the room, his eyes falling upon the symbol of royalty worn about the necks of the royal family lying discarded upon the desk; he sighed and picked up the discarded papers before leaving the room. At the end of the corridor he witnessed the king having sharp words with the captain of his guard, shaking his head he continued on to the library.
There was a storm brewing.
Thranduil tapped the tip of the quill in his hand against the table, a simple gesture, one that could be put down to any number of innocent reasons, a habit from his student days perhaps or a nervous gesture. Nay, perhaps not a nervous tick, for King Thranduil of Greenwood the Great was far from timid, rather he stood as a great oak, tall, strong in body and will, and noble as the greatest of elves.
Cúdin cringed as the advisor made yet another appeal to the King’s good nature, which he was sure, would only raise Thranduil’s ire. The King rolled his eyes and looked sharply at his advisor, Cúdin immediately rose.
”Good elves, you have given us much to think on, let us continue our
council on the morrow and please enjoy the hospitality of this realm until then.”
Thranduil rose abruptly and with nary a backward glance strode with sure
steps and a swish of robes out of the chamber. The seneschal made a hand
gesture and at the nod of a pale haired youth scurried after the king.
”My Lord?”
Thranduil paused briefly to look out of a window, giving the advisor time
to catch up to him and then spoke, “Remind me again Cúdin why I must be
present at these tedious meetings?”
The seneschal’s lips turned up slightly at the familiar game, “That would
be because you are King, Sire.” He said bowing slightly to emphasis his words.
”Ah, is that why it is?” Thranduil sighed and reaching the door to his private chambers entered, ignoring the guards posted in the corridor, and tossing the papers he was carrying onto the desk.
”I am tired of it, my friend, that elf would no doubt benefit from a spell in the dungeons, he is beyond impertinent.” Thranduil looked thoughtful for a moment as he undid the clasps on his outer robe. “Though I daresay he is fair enough, perhaps I should bed him and be done with it.”
”My Lord!” The seneschal looked horrified, “I hardly think bedding Lord Elrond’s young advisor will endear you to him.”
The king looked sharply at the advisor, “what do I care what Elrond thinks of me? We do not need what they are offering, and I care not for his friendship. I have always found that elf tedious.”
”My Lord at this time, perhaps we do not need this alliance, but there is a darkness coming. These woods are not as they once were, and the spiders grow ever more abundant. There may come a time, My King, when the warriors of our allies are all that stand between us and the darkness that seeks to extinguish us. We need this alliance.”
The king sighed heavily, “Aye you are right, my friend.”
Having discarded his formal robes, Thranduil pulled on a well-worn pair of brown suede leggings and a slightly oversized and rather shapeless green tunic. Sitting at the dressing table he pulled back his hair and braided it into one long plait that fell to dance against his lower back.
Cúdin was struck then by the similarity between the king and his son, save for the colour of his eyes, it would be easy to mistake one for the other when the king was dressed so casually.
”We should go over the reports that were submitted today, in preparation for tomorrow’s council.”
Thranduil fixed the seneschal with a tired gaze as he picked up his quiver, bow and finally a set of long knives. “Cúdin I appreciate your diligence, but there is naught that can persuade me to spend a moment longer inside with parchment and quill.”
”But My Lord, we should be prepared.”
”I trust you, old friend, to know what needs to be known on the morrow, I am going for a ride.”
Cúdin bowed his head, recognising well the finality in his King’s voice. “But you will be present for the evening meal?”
Thranduil smiled slightly, “perhaps, but if I should be ‘detained’ I am confident Legolas will act well as host in my stead.”
The seneschal bowed his head again as the king left the room, his eyes falling upon the symbol of royalty worn about the necks of the royal family lying discarded upon the desk; he sighed and picked up the discarded papers before leaving the room. At the end of the corridor he witnessed the king having sharp words with the captain of his guard, shaking his head he continued on to the library.