Kingsfoil: the Secret Scenes!

Narylfiel discovers a secret...

Narylfiel had been married to the Elvenking for two entirely wonderful days when she discovered something about Thranduil that she would have never suspected.

It began innocently enough when she returned to the Royal Chambers earlier than expected from the archery range. The rain had picked up enough to ruin the visibility completely, not to mention that it was a mix of ice and sleet. She had just peeled off her wet outer tunic and left it in a damp heap on the floor when she heard a voice crescendo into a loud, boisterous melody:

Oh, the Elvenking loves to drink
All around him hear the glasses clink
He's the bravest in the Hall
Yes, feared and loved by all!

Raise your glass to the ElvenKing!

The lively singing clearly originated from the bathroom. Narylfiel waited a beat, listening. She heard the sound of water moving, the gentle clink of something being set down. Was her husband—King Thranduil, the Elvenking of the Woodland Realm—in the bath...singing? A song about himself, no less. It was too much, and Narylfiel had to bite down on her lip to keep herself from laughing. She stood completely still, waiting to see if he would break into the next chorus.

Narylfiel, who considered herself something of an expert on all things Thranduil, had never imagined a world in which he belted out rowdy drinking tunes while lounging in his bathtub. She was not even sure if she had ever heard him sing...anything! Even on festival days and celebrations, she never heard him voice so much as a single note.

King Thranduil is a merry old soul
He reigns on high in his mountain, Oh!
With his crown of leaves,
He's the envy of thieves!

Raise your glass to the Elvenking!

Narylfiel carefully crept toward the door to the bathroom while he sang the next chorus. His voice was warm and fair beyond measure, she thought; of course, she could be a little biased, but she was just so surprised. He had a lovely rich tone—it was beautiful to listen to him sing.

She peeked around the corner, grinning. There he was, oblivious and ensconced in an almost immoral amount of bubbles, singing happily to himself while he lathered up his hair. His eyes were closed while his long, talented fingers worked the soap through his long, slick hair. He continued to sing as he gave his scalp a few more good scrubs, and then Thranduil sank down under the water completely.

He emerged a few seconds later, blinking and wiping the water away from his eyes, and Narylfiel handed him a dry towel.

"Narylfiel!" he exclaimed, taking the towel from her to pat his face dry. "You returned surprisingly early from the range. I had thought you would have been gone for most of the afternoon."

She smiled a little then. "It started sleeting, so I came back early."

"Oh," he said and folded the towel over the side of the tub. She could not be sure if it was due to the heat from the bath water or not, but were his cheeks a little more pink than usual?

"Well, I don't want to interrupt anything," Narylfiel told him. "I just came in to let you know I'm back."

"Do you—" Thranduil sat up a little taller in the water. "Do you want to join me?" He looked up at her with those long, wet lashes and smiled.

Narylfiel nodded, like she needed to think about it. "I don't know, Thranduil," she told him mischievously, "if I join you...will you sing to me?"

To his credit, Thranduil did not blush at her admission—much. Instead he crooked his finger and beckoned her over. "Come down here," he instructed her and kissed her, one long warm kiss. "I know a variety of tunes guaranteed to entertain, my lady," he promised.

And he did. He really did.