Everlong

76

To say that Thranduil was displeased, was the understatement of the century; or in his case, the many centuries that he had been alive for. The tent, which he first thought was an ideal, yet quiet place for Liruliniel to eat and continue resting, soon got changed. Some of the survivors had managed to clean out, slightly with broken brooms and whatever else was to hand, and light the torches and braziers within the main hall of the town. From what Thranduil had learned, it was where the women and children were to hide during the battle.

It wasn't this which was causing the displeasure, and his face was a fair representation over how he felt at this point in time, no; his displeasure came from something as simple as food and drink. Perhaps, more the drink than the food. It seemed, despite of everything, the dwarves were rather rambunctious to say the least, especially when Dáin had come over to greet his cousin loudly, almost thunderous laughter was tinged with some sly comment about who Thorin was currently keeping in company of.

And who would that have? Well, none other than Thranduil and Liruliniel, more her than himself. Thorin, through some act or another, Thranduil swore down that it was just to irk him some more after their conversation earlier, was sitting on the other side of Liruliniel, the pair nattered on and off, but Thorin sat at this table with them. The clean up of the city had not been forgotten, nor those which still laid in the bloodied streets, but for the most part, the orcs had been cleaned away; or at least, some had, a great many still remained. As for those of the allies which were lost and in the streets, they had been moved and all covered with any material possible in another large space, perhaps an old manor house or another hall. Of course, there were still a lot of the undead to recover, to lay out, and allow those closest to come and mourn before a burial was to take place.

But as for now, it seemed those that survived were wishing to celebrate the victory, while also celebrating those that gave their lives for this victory. Though they could not be here to see them, to know that this city would prosper once again, they would not be forgotten that without them, this perhaps would not be possible. Victory always came with a great loss, unfortunately that was the way in which battles and sieges went.

Hearing some remark or another, Thranduil merely and silently turned his face towards the two dwarves which were still conversing, Dáin being louder than Thorin, evidently the more drunker of the two. Liruliniel awkwardly sipped at her cup and looked around with wide eyes. She didn't have a comment to Dáin's, no response, asking his cousin if he was now a lover of woodland sprites was...awkward, Liruliniel coughed quietly and rubbed at her chest, the alcohol burned a little on its way down and she probably didn't help matters by coughing suddenly. Her ribs didn't like her for that action at all.

Shutting his eyes, Thranduil just relented, he didn't even bother to voice anything, the cousins were still here, still talking, and he wished he could opt out of listening to them, but they just spoke so loudly! Sipping at his own cup, Thranduil just watched those which had crammed into the hall. Beorn was still present, his hulking frame looking most comical as he sat at a table, surrounded by some of the dwarves who seemed to be pestering him too, and some elves which were curious to talk to their neighbouring skin-changer; some had never seen him, heard him perhaps, but never seen and any tales usually came from Liruliniel as she had had contact with Beorn already.

Some of the other dwarves, be them from Dáin's army or those that were in Thorin's group, had commenced a drinking contest to one side, taking over a whole table just for the occasion. The one which Thranduil recalled being called Dwalin seemed to be winning, although he seemed to be tied with the redhead known as Glóin. Thranduil had not really learned their names when he had them imprisoned. It was only Thorin which he conversed with, but Liruliniel had said a quick run-through of their names. Though he dearly wished to say otherwise, he wasn't sure whether Legolas was watching or taking part. He was standing alongside Tauriel and Kíli, the dwarf hadn't been too hurt in the fight, only mere cuts and bruises which had been seen to rather speedily earlier on.