To Live Again: In her Hands {Lord of the Rings / Thranduil fanfic}

6. Worlds Apart

150 Years Ago - Southern Harlindon, Ossiriand.

The mansion is full to the brim, I could barely move as I was led through the throngs of guests. All Sindar nobility of the South Harlindon City; aristocratic, elegant, fine-featured, and dripping in the finery of the Noldor. 

I felt my nose scrunch upwards in a disgusted grimace as I caught their appraising looks. I saw how they looked upon the Silvan who had journeyed with us - they stared at them with brazen haughtiness.  I even noted how some looked horrified, or just plain confused by our coarse apparel and naivety to the dazzling brightness of courtly life. No matter what expressions they all held, there was a familiarity in all of them...pity.

Pity that their lord's daughter would be bound to such an uncouth nation. Pity, that one such as the Lady Bregeth would have her fine talents wasted in such a faraway and savage land. I felt my jaw set in a hard and uncomfortable position...this was not how I imagined this day.

"Thranduil," Raffyn, my father's second in command, lowered his head as if to whisper something pleasant in my ear. "You will frighten the young lady by wearing such a scowl."

"Good!" I snarled in response, "then at least she will understand her place...I will not tolerate such indifference to our people."

"Thranduil...please attempt to be understanding," Raffyn continued, with that still stupid smile plastered across his face. "You are asking the young lady to leave the only home she has ever known to be your wife...this is no small thing."

"She knows what she has agreed to," I growl, still maintaining my cold mask.  "If this is to be a union out of duty, then let us keeps things as detached as possible. Logic led us to this point, there is little use for emotions now."

"Ai, Thranduil," Raffyn groans, and lets me stride past him to be welcomed by our host...Lord Bregon of East Harlindon. A noble Lord of the city, a fine warrior, and an elf dripping in foreign wealth. I am certain Adar is being compensated handsomely for this marriage.

The elf in question is equally as tall and lean as his daughter, with the same distant blue eyes that see far too much.  Unlike his daughter he does appear to be enthused by my presence, and greets me with all the ferocity of long parted friends;

"Prince Thranduil, welcome," Bregon embraces me warmly, clapping a hand on my shoulders to guide me through to a dimly lit private lounge. "It is always so wonderful to be in the presence of one of Lassiel's blood. I am certain you hear this often, but you are truly like your mother's kin...honourable people they were."

"Yes," I reply coolly, as I shrug off my cloak and toss it uncaringly over the nearest armchair; "but they say I have my father's bearing." With a smirk I unsheathe a hidden long knife and present the handle to my host; "They say I enjoy the thrill of war too much...here, my lady probably does not approve of me lounging around her home with deadly weapons."

"i would agree that she would not," Bregon replies with an unimpressed sniff, and elegantly takes the knife from my grasp. I suppress a wicked grin, Adar warned me these folk were not accustomed to the wild freeness of our own culture. He had also warned me to remember my manners, I was raised to adhere to both my heritages and therefore should not offend those of my kin...but the opportunity was to good to pass up.

"My daughter shall be here shortly," Bregon continues, as he saunters to a ornate mahogany sideboard laden with various wines and malts. "She is most excited to be with you once again my lord, she has been looking forward to the day in which you both could official announce your engagement."

"Hmm, well that is not how I remembered her parting last spring. She told me not to rush back," I reply and raise an eyebrow, I cannot abide liars, especially not those who blatantly lie to ease my pride.