~ Thranduil is wary about Wynne's mother and receives a proposal that fuels his suspicions. He confronts Wynne and demands to be told the truth. ~
56. Pride and Vanity
That day's meeting was held in King Elessar's throne room and Thranduil looked around him with appreciation. It was a large room, with high pillars similar to the ones in the feast hall Merethrond. The floor was tiled stone, smooth after centuries of feet walking on it, and the walls had several large tapestries between the arched windows. Chairs were placed in a semicircle before the throne and Elessar already sat on one.
So typical of that man, to sit among his inferiors like an equal rather than using his throne. Thranduil had to hold back a smile at the thought of himself doing something of that ilk back home.
While waiting for the meeting to begin, he slowly walked from one tapestry to the other, admiring the colors and materials and trying to figure out what part of history each pictured.
That one was easy; the Battle of the Pelennor Fields – the oliphaunts were a telltale clue. They had made his son a lot taller than he really was, he noticed. And had he killed an oliphaunt single-handedly like that? He certainly had not mentioned it when he recounted his adventures. Probably artistic license.
It was time to begin the meeting and Thranduil took his place next to Nugu and Sidra, curiously eyening the others. There was the Rohan king, who Thranduil had changed a few words with yesterday; he had seemed coarse and uncouth. Beside him Elessar and Arwen, and at his other side Faramir, Éowyn, Legolas and his dwarf friend. Then followed a row of Gondorian lords, and a similar row of Rohirrim lords, with the addition of Lady Morwen, the horrible woman who was Wynne's mother.
Everybody stared at the uruk-hai couple beside Thranduil and he could tell from Nugu's nervous fidgeting with the hem of his tunic that it unsettled him. No wonder. Thranduil was thankful to not be in his situation.
The council began and very soon turned into a heated argument. The Gondorians seemed mostly positive to the suggested peace treaty but the Rohirrim took an opposite stance. Morwen was clearly the most averse of the lot. Though Nugu sat right in front of her she unabashedly compared him to a horse and described how a stallion with bad traits would pass them on to all his offspring. Many of the other nobles seemed to take her side, but Thranduil couldn't discern whether it was because they shared her opinion or if they just didn't dare oppose her.
As the discussion droned on at length without really getting anywhere, he found his thoughts drift.
That woman. Why did he feel a slight chill everytime she opened her mouth – which was often – and every time he looked at her? She was beautiful for a human, with well chiseled, regular features and dark hair in an intricate updo, she dressed elegantly and moved gracefully. Her manners were polite of sorts, albeit unrefined, but that went for most of the other Rohirrim nobility he had spoken to.
Was it her pride and ambition that made him uneasy? But those were not necessarily faults; he himself wouldn't have become king without them and the same went for his adar.
His adar. That was the reason. There was a certain ruthlessness and cruelty in Morwen that reminded him of Oropher, a complete lack of regard for others' feelings. She had beaten her daughter yesterday and that was not the first time; Wynne's lie had come too fast, too easily – he should know, having fabricated the same falsehoods so many times over the years.
To have this woman as his son's mother-in-law would mean he must accept her in his own life. He could imagine her in his court, conspiring and plotting, perhaps even scheming to turn his subjects against him if it could increase her influence. It would either work or make his people laugh at him, Thranduil knew not which was worse.
His temples were beginning to throb. Why had his son brought this mess on him?
oOo
The meeting lasted well into the afternoon with only short breaks for refreshments and lunch in Merethrond. When Elessar finally decided they would have to continue the next day, Thranduil's throbbing temples had matured into a splintering headache and he longed to remove his circlet.
Not wanting to speak to anyone, he was about to swiftly leave when Wynne's father and that woman came up to him, asking to exchange a few words in private, if they may?
Thranduil couldn't think of an excuse to refuse and soon found himself listening to an elaborate oration – by the father, surprisingly – about the benefits of accepting his daughter as wife for his son. He brought up future connections with Rohan, trade deals, a dowry – silver, pearls, gems, horses, anything could be arranged it seemed. Lord Vinur spoke as if he held a well rehearsed speech and it was not hard to guess who had written it.
How could this Rohirrim couple know so much about Thranduil's circumstances and his kingdom after only one day in the city? The Woodland realm was the most remote and secret realm of them all (if he didn't count Goltur's orc city) and he doubted even Elessar knew this much about it.
It seemed impossible unless Morwen had known about Legolas' and her daughter's attachment beforehand and had had time to do research...
He had a growing suspicion that was exactly what she had, and the reason why made his blood boil. Yet, he remained silent, allowing the man to finish.
He let them wait for a minute while he restrained his emotions and gathered his thoughts. He couldn't outright refuse, at least not yet – he needed more information.
"I shall consider your offer and return my answer as soon as I have done so." He bowed curtly and didn't stay to listen to any added speeches by the woman.
Instead he left to find Wynne. She would tell him everything, or he was not the Elvenking.
oOo
Thranduil found the girl on the lawn outside King Elessar's private house, where she had been tasked with babysitting his and Faramir's sons and the orclings together with Galion. She seemed almost as worn out as he felt.
"May I have a word in private?"
She looked terrified when she followed him and he realized he must have been frowning rather deeply. Well, let her sweat.
He took her to his rooms in the guesthouse and told her to sit in one of the chairs. He had been provided with a comfortable apartment; a large sitting room, a bedroom, and a private bathroom with a copper tub and running water which he had made good use of so far.
He longed to take a nice, scalding hot bath before dinner, but first things first.
Removing his torturous circlet, he placed it on a sideboard before seating himself opposite to Wynne. As usual he was silent for a while which had a double advantage: it would make the other person anxious to talk, while providing him time to think of what to say.
The poor girl looked very small in Thranduil's big chair, nervously pulling at a loose thread in her hose and not daring to meet his gaze. She was back in one of the simple tunics she had worn during their journey and wore her hair loose without the pretty little hairnet. Such a shame.
"Your parents came to see me," he said at last, noticing her blanch. "They offered your hand in marriage to Legolas."
She didn't seem surprised so that was obviously no news to her.
"W-what did you answer?" Her lip trembled. She thought he had refused.
"I said I needed to think."
Now she looked up, a tendril of hope in her features. She was nearly as easy to read as Legolas.
"And then I did just that. I thought." He paused to give impact to his words and to construct the next sentence in his head. "I thought of how you, unbidden, joined my company along with the mearas." He emphasized the word, sending the message he had not forgotten he had been tricked about the horses as well.
Her gaze immediately dropped and the pallor in her face was replaced with a blush.
"And I remembered a certain time," he continued, "or more than once, actually – when your behavior seemed rather flirtatious."
She was crimson now, guilt written plainly in her countenance.
Thranduil's anger flared and though he didn't allow it to show in his features he couldn't entirely banish it from his voice. "Tell me the truth, Wynne."
To his surprise she promptly did, without hesitation or even trying to defend herself. In a trembling voice she confessed that her mission had been to catch either himself or Legolas and make them marry her. She also said how very sorry she was.
Well, she should be! Even though this was exactly what Thranduil had suspected since the conversation with her mother it was all he could do to remain calm. The nerve of this girl!
He recalled the way she had been in the beginning, so innocent and yet tempting. There had been one occasion when he almost was affected by it himself, despite everything, and only the thought of his wife had sobered him.
How dare she! Cold fury ran through his veins. He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled, this devious, false girl, and then yell at her to leave and never show her face to him or his son again.
She was crying silently and he realized she expected him to do exactly that.
Had he been like Oropher he would have beaten her up without hesitation, but Thranduil was – thank the Valar – not his adar. Instead he remained standing, willing his heart to cease its frantic pacing, refusing to let his features betray the storm within.
He had learned the hard way never to act rashly, never to make decisions in a rage.
When his breath finally slowed he noticed the slight swelling on Wynne's cheek where her mother had struck her the previous day. He saw her red eyes and runny nose and how her slight body shook uncontrollably.
He didn't like it when females cried.
In a pretense to admire the view, he turned his back on the sobbing child. It helped. A little.
She really was a child, though. Nothing about this had been her idea. What had he expected her to do? Come clean to him that first day by the Anduin and expose her mother's schemes, say sorry, leave the horses and go home? Of course she couldn't do that; it didn't take much imagination to picture what would have happened to her when she returned.
Wynne was not to blame for doing what her mother had forced her to, no more than Nugu was to blame for Saruman's evil deeds. They had both been slaves, bent under the strong will of someone else.
Thranduil knew how hard it was to break free of that kind of shackles.
He realized he had been unconsciously pacing back and forth, and stopped. What about her alleged feelings for Legolas – were those a lie too?
No, that was a ridiculous notion. He wasn't blind; the sparks between them were almost palpable. It might not be real love yet, but they certainly desired one another and showed a great deal of fondness too.
Legolas claimed his heart was already committed and the more Thranduil had seen them together lately, the more he believed it might be true. If so, giving up Wynne meant his son could never love anyone else.
Whichever decision Thranduil made would have a bad outcome. If he accepted Morwen's offer of her daughter's hand, Legolas could only be married a few short years before Wynne died like all mortals did, during which he would have that deceitful dragon for a mother-in-law. She would come between them and ruin what they had – unless Wynne broke with her entirely, and that was not likely, given how intimidating the woman was. Even Thranduil had felt it.
On the other hand, if he refused the match Legolas would be miserable and alone for the rest of his life. But wasn't that better than a very short and unhappy marriage? And as for Wynne... if she survived the certain fit of temper her mother was bound to have, she would be back on square one, under her mother's shadow.
She deserved better.
At least he ought to ease some of her worry. Returning to his chair, he put his hand over her small one. It was dead cold and she flinched at the touch like a beaten dog.
"I am not angry with you." He tried to make his voice soft.
She met his gaze with red rimmed eyes, clearly not believing him.
"I am, however, livid with that vain woman you had the misfortune to be born by."
"Sorry." She sniffed.
"Do not apologize for her actions." He carefully turned her face to expose her swollen cheek. There was a faint reddening near her ear where the skin had almost broken.
She stubbornly set her jaw. She didn't like that he had seen it.
Thranduil knew that feeling. The shame.
His chest grew tight. Maybe he would be able to make her life a little easier, at least. He could talk to Elessar, see if there was something to be done. An invitation to stay in his court, perhaps?
For, the more he thought about it, the more certain he became. He would have to refuse her mother's offer.
A/N:
I have loved writing Thranduil's perspective for a change. Hope you liked reading it. :) I can reveal there might be another one ahead. And also, there is my new story about him, Thranduil's Shadow and my other WiP Matched From Birth.
Big hug for the comments and votes!