My Lady Dís

Chapter 18

Callon ran around the ball room carrying a stuffed animal as Dís directed the hanging of the decorations for New Years. It had been three weeks since they had returned from Erebor. Thranduil was quieter after they returned and Callon wondered what was bothering him. She spun herself dizzy and collapsed onto the floor, giggling. The servants moved around her as if she were not there.

"Dear Heart, you're getting in the way," Dís called. "No, no," she turned to the woman standing beside her with a pile of fabric. "We used those last year. I only want to see like-on-like embroidery. The colours should speak for themselves. Subtle."

The elf bowed and hurried off. Callon stood up. "Gram, I'm hungry."

Dís nodded. "Okay."

She looked over the room, and decided she could leave it for a while. She took Callon back to their apartment for lunch. To her surprise, the king was lounging in their sitting room, doing paperwork.

"Don't you have an office?" she asked. He nodded as Callon trotted over and climbed into his lap.

"I do, but it is, sadly, in the most direct path to and from the ballroom."

"So work in your own apartment if you need quiet."

He smiled. "But I like working in here. Besides, now that you have interrupted me, I guess I could stop for lunch."

"There would be no interruptions in your apartment," she muttered.

Callon sighed. "Gram, please don't fight."

"No-one is fighting, Dear Heart." She went to go and see about the food and Thranduil looked down at Callon.

"I really only came over because I knew it would annoy Gram," he told her quietly.

Callon giggled. "That's not very nice," she chided.

Thranduil nodded. "I know," he offered the child a smile. "Since Gram is so busy right now, what if you and I sneak off and have fun this afternoon?"

Callon put her hand over her mouth to muffle a giggle. "But, you have work."

"Well, right now, I'm being a Bad King."

Callon nodded and threw her arms around his neck. "Okay, but only for a little while," she said. As she pulled away, something hard buried him hair scratched her arm. "OW!"

Callon pulled his hair over one shoulder and began sifting through it. Dís came back into the room.

"Dear Heart, the food's—what are you doing?"

"The king has something scratchy in his hair," Callon paused. "Oh! Pretty!"

Dís shook her head and moved to take the toddler from his lap. "Dear Heart, you really cannot be . . . taking . . . Oh, Mahal! Where did you get that?"

Callon had found the lone braid in the Thranduil's thick, normally immaculately straight hair. The silver bead on the end of the braid was square, which is why Callon has scratched herself, but the swirling wave pattern gave it a rather elfish look.

Callon fingered it for a moment then let the braid go. "Mine are round," she said, pulling her hair forward and showing him her braids. "See?"

Thranduil patted her on the head and stood up, holding the child and towering over Dís slightly. "Yes, I've seen them. Gram made those for you, didn't she?"

Callon nodded. "Before I walked," she said.

"Yes. I recall vividly the visit I got from the smith afterwards, too." He turned into the dining room, forcing Dís to follow them.