{Dedicated to rubies_gems because DAMN I have never seen anyone read that fast.}
True to his word, the very next day Bofur and I picked up a pair of ponies in Dale and proceeded at a leisurely pace toward the Woodland Realm. Bofur and I chatted happily the entire way, camping out in a small cave or grotto each night if we could find one. The land between Erebor and the Woodland Realm was considered fairly safe, and the distance was only about a week long at a light pace. We sent a raven ahead of us since Bofur said it wouldn't be polite to just show up without warning.
"But I told them I'd be visiting soon after returning and the elves who saw us through Mirkwood know we're back," I pointed out.
"That was a year ago."
"You suffered no such compunctions at Bilbo's house."
"Well we know Bilbo."
"I know Thranduil."
"He's an elf, he's different. And he's a king. Bilbo's just a wealthy hobbit."
I heaved a sigh. "Such double standards. You were probably right to send a bird though. That way if they don't see us in a week they can send out a mass manhunt to find us from whatever gorge we've fallen down inside."
Bofur rolled his eyes at me. "Maybe he'd send out a manhunt for you-Thranduil doesn't care a whit about me."
"Someday maybe I'll get that to change." A grin erupted across my face as I made a sudden comparison that I hadn't before. "It's like I'm the child of a divorce and I'm being shuttled back and forth between my two fathers."
Bofur shot me a dark look. "I don't think I like how you've stipulated that you feel like myself and that king were once married."
I laughed until I nearly fell off the pony.
Bofur in no way wanted to reenter the Woodland Realm, for which I couldn't blame him, but he was entirely willing to do it for me. We stopped several hundred feet short of their fancy main entrance-through which we'd been hustled in our respective ropes or shackles the last time we'd entered together-and knew very well the sentries stoically guarding the doors could not only see us but probably identify us as well.
"You don't have to come inside, Bofur," I pointed out to him as I dismounted and transferred my small pack from my pony's saddle to my back. "It's not as if I've got enemies here. This place is like a home to me too."
Bofur had dismounted with me. "Well. I'd hate for anyone to say I'm not looking after you as I should...."
"Bofur. What on earth is likely to happen to me between where we stand and where they stand?" I wanted to know. "I can run to the bridge from here and their arrows can probably get to us from here, so they can definitely shoot anything they don't want around. You've seen how possessive Thranduil is-do you really think he'd let anything eat me? And right on his front steps-bridge-no less."
Bofur sighed. "That's a solid point you make. You won't think any less of me for not engaging in small talk with him?"
I smiled and clapped a hand onto Bofur's shoulder. "Nope. Were I in your position I wouldn't small talk with him either. Remember it took me months to learn to like him."
So Bofur and I said our farewells, and he took my pony with him so he wouldn't have to pay for its rental for however long I felt like staying-I'd told him I wasn't sure. I highly doubted Thranduil would make me walk back when I decided to go, let alone walk back alone.
I skipped right into the Woodland Realm and no one even batted an eye at me. I hadn't met every elf in the Realm but apparently they all knew of me even if they'd never seen me. I'd come through this entrance with my guards once to play in the trees outside so I found my way up to Thranduil's throne platform fairly easily, even though it had been over a year since I'd been here. It was remarkable how fast time was passing.
The Elvenking was alone on his platform-shocker-and pacing as he thought, hands ever tucked into the small of his back. I sprinted up the steps because I could and only gained speed as I hit the flat surface of his platform. I ran to him and leaped, having missed him far more than I'd either expected or realized. He watched my hasty approach with a small smile and caught me at the last moment, very nearly grinning. Wrapping me firmly into his arms he kissed the hair on the right side of my head and murmured something. I squirmed. "Still deaf on that side, Thranduil," I said, exasperated.
He compliantly adjusted. "We have missed you of late."
I sat back, supported by his arm. "Well you ought to be missing me every day, what's wrong with you?"
In a lesser man the sound he made would have been considered a snort. "I apologize for no longer living up to your standards of what one of your many admirers ought to be." He returned me to the ground. "How were your escapades with the dwarves?"
"Bilbo introduced me to tea."
One dark eyebrow lifted. "That is the most notable occurrence from your travels?"
"I also brought home a pet rabbit named Greenly."
Thranduil gently rolled his eyes. "Clearly we must instruct you in report-giving before permitting you to leave the region again." He strode up the twisted steps to his throne and took a seat, drawing out a tightly wound scroll from a basket beside the contorted seat to read it.
I followed him up and sat on the ground next to him, pulling a loop of yarn out of my bright green apron-the frock underneath it was an equally bright yellow and I loved it. "Permit me to leave? Pardon me but I thought I was a free woman."
"A free child perhaps," he drawled. "Am I excluded from having a say in your welfare, just as your dwarvish protector is?"
"My dwarvish protector considered coming in to say hello today but he didn't think he'd be welcome, considering the last time we entered your realm together."
Thranduil had the decency not to verbally refresh his displeasure that the dwarves he'd once imprisoned had so flawlessly escaped, instead asking, "Have they converted you to their dresses, then, or have you simply tired of trousers?"
"Well they are-between the two races we are discussing-the ones more likely to make a fuss if I don't wear what they think of as proper garb for a female. I was opposed to it at first but Freda-that's Gloin's wife-sent ahead for a number of dresses to be made in my size before we returned to Erebor and I found they weren't as awful as I feared they'd be. My legs don't get all tangled up in the fabric like I'd thought, and I never get wedgies."
"Is that a term specific to your people?"
"You don't know what a wedgie is?"
"It sounds unpleasant."
"It's when the fabric of your pants gets stuck in your butt when you stand up. It's highly unpleasant. And I rather like having an apron. Mostly because most aprons have pockets and I like pockets."
It took all of my strength not to collapse into giggles and roll down the steps at imagining whether or not the Elvenking ever got wedgies. But I managed. It was lucky we weren't quite looking at each other, because I was sure my face was a lovely fuchsia color from all the effort I was putting in. Once I'd controlled myself I cleared my face and gazed up at him, glad to be able to bask in the glory of his pretty face again after a year of beardy dwarves. Not that I didn't love my dwarves. But they certainly weren't as pretty as elves.
Thranduil noticed my observation and I watched one of his eyebrows rise again. It was a favorite gesture of his, I believe, the raising of a single imposing eyebrow.
"Your hair is tangled," I said to answer his inquiry.
"Oh dear."
I tucked my loop of yarn back into my apron pocket, stood and clambered up into the root-antler-contorted branches that splayed out behind his throne, standing balanced between two of the lower ones so I could run my fingers carefully through the silvery smooth tangles and set his hair to rights again.
After several minutes of this Thranduil asked, "Would you like me to send for a comb?"
"Oh no, just carry on as you are. I'll be finished soon. Your hair is very soft."
"Thank you."
"How many different crowns do you have? I've seen you wearing two, I believe, so it stands to reason you may have more."
"A small number."
"Are they for different occasions with a different amount of significance or are they more like an accessory, meant to fit what you're wearing or doing?"
He probably rolled his eyes again. "Different occasions and different allowances. It would not be prudent to wear the one you met me in while in battle."
"It's very good for intimidating people though. Did you switch out the fall leaves yourself or did someone else? That's holly you've got woven in there now, isn't it?"
"Yes it is holly. I find the seasonal additions myself, thank you."
"Don't they start to wilt though, at the end of the season?"
"They do not."
My fingers paused where they were straightening the ends of his hair. "How? They just wilt naturally, don't they?"
"With us they last far longer than they would if cut by any other hands."
"Hm. I wish I could understand why." I finished straightening his hair so it lay like a snowy sheet over his back and down in front of his shoulders.
Legolas came trotting up the long steps and the corners of his mouth curled up when he saw me. When he saw me arranging Thranduil's hair he laughed. "Are you enjoying yourself, Mabyn?"
"Yes I am!" I swung down from where I'd been perched behind Thranduil and bounded down the stairs toward Legolas, throwing my arms around his waist. My burst of affection startled him and he had to slide one foot back to brace himself against it.
"It is good to see you again as well," he said with a chuckle, his hands on the backs of my shoulders. "I trust you are well?"
"I am phenomenal, thank you for noticing." I released him from my affections and looked between the son's bemused expression and the father's. "Why are the two of you giving me such peculiar looks, like I've just expressed an undeniable desire to bury my feet and emulate the trees? I thought I was family. I expect it from him," I said of Thranduil, "but what kind of brother are you to look at me that way?"
Legolas smiled in that faint way of his, casting about as though looking for his answer. "Apparently not a very proficient one."
"Well I'll teach you what it's al about."
"Oh really? Tauriel told me you had no siblings."
"No but thus far I'm still doing better than you, so there."
Legolas lightly rolled his eyes. "Mabyn, I must speak with my father, will you give us a moment?"
I nodded. "Sure thing." I reached for my satchel.
"You may leave that here," said Thranduil. "I will have it sent to your rooms later."
"Thank you. Don't gossip too much about me while I'm gone." I whirled and darted down the long flights of stairs.
I tried to sneak up on the few people I could hear having themselves a between-shifts conversation in the guardroom but that plan backfired. Really I should have known better. I was just creeping around the corner toward the open door when I felt something tug on the ends of my hair and spun with a startled shriek, throwing my hands up.
A grinning Mirinel caught me by the wrists before I could inflict what minimal damage I was capable of. When I saw her I flung my arms wide as she released me and then threw them around her neck, since she was crouched low enough for me to do so. "We have missed you, Mountain Girl," she said. "How were your travels?"
"They were great fun. I like traveling. I brought a rabbit home, and some tea."
She chuckled. "That is all you have to tell us? It cannot be. Come. Are you hungry?"
I didn't know any of the other elves in the guardroom but they lifted their hands or their mugs in greeting when they recognized me. I waved as well. Mirinel poured me a cup of water and we sat at the bench to further elucidate on our respective years.
Guards came and went as Mirinel and I caught up. I got to see and rejoice with my six most regular guards. Tauriel lifted and spun me around just as she had when I'd proved my survival a year ago. I didn't ask how the trouble between her and Thranduil had finished after the last time I'd seen them in each other's presence, and I never intended to. I could be quite content in my ignorance when I wanted to be.
After several hours a young woman came to the door and something about her made the dozen guards in the room cease their chatter and watch her as they waited for her to speak. "My Lord Thranduil requests Milady Mabyn's presence at supper." She extended her hand toward me, smiling.
Off the bench I went.
"Mabyn, how long are you staying?" Cerian asked.
"I've no idea yet," I said as I walked backward toward the young woman-granted all elves looked young to me. "A week or two perhaps?" I had planned on spending a great deal of time here initially, but, to my slight dismay, I was finding it harder to play the child than I had expected. The elves expected a different version of me than the dwarves, and the version the dwarves expected was closer to who I more consistently was. Or perhaps I was just tired today. Or perhaps I felt guilty for supposedly living in Erebor and having spent less than two weeks there in the last twelve months. But there was something.
The elven woman led me upward in the forested mountain. We climbed a great deal of stairs and traversed a great number of wide, carved-wall hallways. "Where are we going?" I asked at last. "It's too cold today to eat outside, and I'm not dexterous enough to eat with mittens on." Indeed the first days of November had passed on Bofur's and my journey around Long Lake. Soon it would begin snowing again. I couldn't wait.
"To Thranduil's dining room," she said. "In his home."
"Oh." This surprised me. For all of my lighthearted teasing I didn't consider myself part of Thranduil's family like I did with Bofur and the rest of the Company. Thranduil's family was Legolas, and it was only Legolas. I didn't think he had room in his heart to truly care about anyone else, particularly not a mixed-blood child whose only defining character trait was that she happened to amuse him. Amusement came from things Thranduil did not predict, from small, uninfluential, relatively powerless people who pretended they were omniscient and strong. It was an act I played quite well since it matched my inherent flair for the blatantly ridiculous. But I did not think Thranduil loved me. I had only ever believed in his trust in my usefulness to him.
That wasn't to say that I thought the Elvenking had little regard for me. I knew there was some form of value there or he wouldn't be so displeased when my safety was threatened and he wouldn't welcome me to visit like this.
But I knew where the love was in my life. And Thranduil was far too old to have any room in his heart for anyone but his son. That didn't stop me from loving him, but at least I knew where my folly lay.
Thranduil's home was beautiful. There was a small set of-surprise surprise-stairs leading up to a round balcony overlooking a wider, open area of walkways and half-enclosed hallways, and behind the balcony came an ornately-carved door of some dark, reddish wood. My guide opened the door because I'd sunk back and made it very clear that I wasn't going to, and I stepped over the threshold with my mouth open in awe.
The woman-I suspected she was a handmaid of sorts-politely paused, smiling, to allow me to take in Thranduil's entryway. Its ceilings were what caught my attention first: high and arched like those in a mosque, painted a rich green like the needles of a scotch pine, and every corner and line in the wall overlaid with a detailed, curling engraving. I wanted to immediately request the presence of a ladder so I could examine them more closely. But chances were that inspection would have to wait. The engraved pieces were in a paler shade of the emerald so they matched and drew attention without standing out too drastically. There was a wide, thick rug woven with multiple shades of warm, deep yellow and gold spreading the floor, and tall hallways leading off into three different rooms or directions.
"Goodness gracious," I murmured, dazed. "Does he want me soon? I might have to sit down a moment, regain my wits."
"I believe he has a higher faith in your wits than you do," she diplomatically replied.
"I don't know if I've ever seen a place more beautiful."
"Be sure to tell him that. He takes great pride in his home."
"As everyone should," I sighed. "A man's home is a representation of himself."
"Even more reason he should appreciate the compliment," she said, in a 'just between us' manner, and the corner of my lips turned up.
"Well. Let's get on with this food thing. I've heard it's a healthy habit."
The very humored elven woman led on, taking me down several passageways and through several rooms of equal beauty before showing me into a room that was smaller than I'd expected, but somehow that only intimidated me more. Small dining rooms were specifically for family, not for guests. Or they were in homes that frequently had no guests. The walls and tile floor of this room were entirely white. It took me an extra moment to spot the wall's engravings, in the same style as those in the entryway, but also in white and therefore less noticeable. The dining room table had room for perhaps four and was made of a lighter wood, and had a pale, embroidered cloth running down its center from one end to the other.
Legolas was seated with his back to me and Thranduil stood at a window shaped like a drop of water that had been flattened on the bottom. Both turned when I entered, and smiled when they saw my expression. Like the handmaid, they allowed me my awestruck moment in silence.
"Doesn't the dust just show up better with all this white?"
"Oh no," declared Thranduil, coming to the table and pulling out a chair for me-opposite Legolas-before seating himself. "If a speck of dust should ever fall in my house it is immediately taken care of."
"My apologies for assuming dust should fall in your gorgeous home," I grandly returned, making my slow way over to the table, head still thrown back.
"My gratitude for appreciating it," said Thranduil, sitting back as three people emerged from the kitchen and simultaneously laid down small white plates with lacy, cut-out edges. The plate was laid out with perhaps two dozen large red raspberries-each one the size of the first joint of my thumb-that were stuffed with what looked like blueberries. I stared down at them for quite a while.
"Did your realm not have raspberries, Mabyn?" Legolas asked.
"No it does. But. Raspberries grow in August or July, don't they? How did you get them in November?"
"They were harvested this summer and preserved. In an icebox," he added, when he saw my prevailing bafflement.
"Oh." I hadn't realized Middle Earth had that sort of refrigeration.
"You told me your realm had something similar," Thranduil reminded me, taking up his outermost fork-there were far too many utensils at each place setting to make me feel at ease-and poking one of the berry duos.
"Yes but I. Well. I didn't realize you had it. Middle Earth. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that elves have the best and brightest of everything."
I could sense their smugness even if neither one was directly looking at me. Even the humblest of elves radiate smugness like stars radiate light. They can't help it. It's in their nature.
"How are you getting along with the other dwarves, Mabyn?" Thranduil inquired after I had mastered the art of spearing round things on the end of my dainty tiny fork.
"So far we've all gotten along really well. I've even made friends with a group of ladies, which is a nice change of attitude, since to be honest most of the people I know and am friends with are men. I actually accidentally made friends with Master Bard's children yesterday. I think I startled the poor fellow when I showed up unexpectedly at his lunch because his youngest had wanted me to eat with them. That was fun."
"Have you met Dain yet?"
"Dain of the King persuasion? We've talked."
This got their attention and I didn't at first understand why. But then I did, because who knew me who didn't know that by counting my words they could also measure my satisfaction? I hoped this wasn't enough to make Thranduil insinuate something awful to Dain-it wasn't as if I disliked him for logical reasons. I barely knew the dwarf.
"Oh come on," I implored. "I've only spoken to him three times! And the second and third time we only exchanged a couple of sentences."
"Are you so reserved with your opinions of others?" Thranduil wanted to know. Our delicate berry plates were removed and tart, leafy salads were brought.
"You've got your own opinions," I said, poking through my salad with evident curiosity. "What do you need mine for?"
"Your opinions of the man who rules over your chosen home are very relevant to me." His blue eyes had narrowed, taking my refusal to elaborate as a negative sign.
My shoulders dropped with exasperation and I narrowed my eyes right back at him. "I don't know enough about him to make a clear impression of him. I certainly didn't like you when I first met you either."
"No but neither did you avoid me."
"I said nothing about avoiding him!"
"But it is clear that you are."
I looked to Legolas, hoping he might turn his father aside from his interrogation. But one glance and it was clear from the way Legolas held himself and from the way his eyes met mine that he too wanted a better answer than what I had given.
Damned elves. Always taking on more responsibility than they needed to.
I huffed irritably. "I have no veritable reason for not liking him. He introduced himself to me the day I woke up, if I'm not mistaken. We made some small talk and I was in a tiff with him because he implied-from my perception of it anyway-that he had more a right to decide how I lived my life and what was best for me than I did. I called him out for that, I'll have you know, and the only thing he raised back at me were his awful bushy eyebrows. He wanted me to foster with Gloin because Gloin has a wife and children of his own and he thought that would be a more fulfilling family for me-he pressed at it-but I wanted to stay with Bofur, and the next day I heard through the grapevine that he'd allowed it. He followed my opinion even though he disagreed with it, and that I value.
"The second time we spoke he only said he'd heard that I was going to the Blue Mountains with the other and said 'it's a long road' and we left it at that. The third time-" The third time, as I reiterated for them, had been just before Bofur and I left for Mirkwood, as we were walking out the main entrance. Dain had been standing halfway up the stairs to the balcony above the stone curtain talking with a collection of stonemasons. When he'd seen us he had shouted, pointed down and said, "And there's the reason we need to do it, lads! If that wee lass can scale this wall then others can do it too. I'll not have a weak spot like that right on Erebor's nose. Fix it! I don't care how." He'd then saluted me and gone back to his discussion.
The two of them were still looking at me. Legolas was frowning. "Why do you dislike him?"
I shrugged. "I have no idea. Because he's a king? Because he introduced himself to me instead of the other way around? Because I suspect he wants me on his side?"
Thranduil laid his fork down. That got my attention. He folded his fingers together before his plate. "Mabyn," he said, "do you realize what an uncommon position you are in?"
"Yes."
"Then do you also realize how very pleased Dain is that you-the daughter of another king-chose to remain in his kingdom instead of returning to the one that first welcomed you?"
My gut turned solid. "What?"
"I am sure I am not the only one who knows how much of a triumph this is for the dwarven king," he went on. "I have openly accepted you as a foster child of my own yet you remain in Erebor, the foster daughter of a dwarf of no particular standing. And yet you still claim friendship with me? Most people see that as very odd indeed. Dain is among them. But he, unlike most people, is in a position to wish to use this oddity to his advantage. After all, who would not wish to lay a claim on the child who has the attention of so many ruling men? The man who could influence her could have great influence over the others as well. Particularly those who express an attachment to her, no matter what form that attachment may take."
I felt very sick very suddenly. I heard Legolas murmur something to his father and while I didn't understand what Legolas said, Thranduil replied in the language I understood.
"She ought to understand."
"Yes," I gasped, pushing my salad plate forward a bit so I could rest my head on my arms. "I want to understand. I just hate that I didn't see it myself."
"And."
"And I hate that everybody seems to see me as something to be used! Yes, you do it too, Thranduil! Or you have done it before. This is exactly what you did to Thorin when you had me ride out with you to speak with him when we first saw the dwarves on the balcony. I hated that and I hate this and I don't care if I know what people are trying to use me for because that gives me the choice of whether or not I will allow it. People trying to manipulate me without my realizing it frightens me, that's why I hate it."
"And now by the looks of it you are well on your way to establishing a friendship with Bard as well," Thranduil intoned. "Were I you I would tread carefully, Mabyn. Not everyone will take to your multiple loyalties with the same equanimity, or any equanimity at all."
"I am aware."
"It might be prudent to allow Dain to like you-and to think you like him-as well. People are less apt to manipulate those they have affection for."
"Guh."
"I shall assume you understand. You have never proven yourself to be slow."
"Poo."
"Is that really necessary. This is a meal after all."
I lifted my head and flicked my excessive hair out of my face. "Oh bugger that. Here you are talking about how my entire life I'll have to be walking on tenterhooks so I don't offend one of the important people I know or accidentally allow myself to be manipulated by said important people and all the while you've somehow questioned me so frequently I've hardly had time to eat a bite myself. And how is it that you've done so much talking and you're already finished?" I demanded at the end, holding a hand out toward the empty plate he was sliding past his elbow so one of the kitchen staff could clear it.
He gave me a miniscule smile, satisfied that I understood the gravity of my abnormal situation. "I have many talents."
I groaned, and at last started in on my own salad.
"Why did you choose to live with the dwarves?" he asked next, taking a sip from a clear, etched goblet of what, knowing him, was probably some heady wine. I knew better than to ask to try it.
"Because I still felt more loyalty to them at the time, I suppose. Initially at least. I traveled with them first, I fell in love with them first. They left me behind because they couldn't find me and because they believed you would be better able to take care of me and my condition than they were at the time. If I had been healthy and they'd been able to find me they would have taken me with them-they considered me one of their own. That was how it was supposed to be, if I'd been healthy.
"Soon enough though I did feel equal loyalty to both elves and dwarves, and I was very sad that I didn't believe I could spend equal time with both of you."
"Why could you not?"
I met his eyes squarely. "I can't live two separate lives like that, Thranduil. I can't spend six months here and six months there, always missing a season somewhere. I chose to live with the dwarves because they remind me more of my own people and because they have children and because they act in a way that is more familiar and comfortable to me. I do love your home, but I think I would get bored here eventually."
His brow furrowed. "Bored?"
I shook my head, edge of my mouth quirking up. "You know you will never see me as anything more than a child, Thranduil. I'm too small and my personality too lighthearted to ever dislodge that impression from your mind. Even when I've gone gray and soft I'll still be a child compared to even your youngest elves. Being so diminutive in both age and size in comparison with everyone else would eventually begin to wear on me, to stress my happiness, and I would no longer be content. Besides I could never work here, even when I was an adult by everyone else's standards. What could I possibly do to be useful to elves? I'd only ever spend my days following you or other elves around. I'd get in the way eventually."
"You make fair arguments," he said over his steepled fingers, regarding me closely, his focus narrow. "Why did you select Bofur? If it was the presence of other youths you were after you should have fostered with Gloin."
"I can spend time with other children whenever I want, especially his, since Gloin and Bofur are so close. I chose Bofur because of all the Company he was among those I had known the best, and because I loved his unwavering good cheer. Good cheer is something I need in my life."
"Was it just his pleasant disposition that separated him from the others you were closest to?"
A painful stab, a wrench in a sensitive place. A little bit of a bleed. I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't see his concern, or his son's, because I knew they both had seen my reaction and now saw my hesitation. "No. The other died."
A pause. I tried to put a few more clumsy stitches in the slice I couldn't stop myself from taking. How long would the very implication of him, of them, have to hurt like this? Why did I have to fall in love with someone after my tears had fallen on his corpse?
"I am sorry for your loss," Thranduil said at last. "What was his name?"
"Fili. And his brother Kili. Though I knew Fili a bit better. I-" I what? I was suffering from a regret of not having known him better? My imagination, so sparse in all other aspects of my life, had convinced me to love someone only after I could never know another second in the same world as him? The madness of it. I prayed whatever drove this crumbled before much longer. I didn't want to be in pain for the rest of my life. Not when I hadn't even thought I would live. To lose one curse only to be dogged by another....
I pushed my salad aside and it was almost immediately taken away. Neither one of them being particularly 'sensitive' people, neither elf pressed me for an update on my emotional status, for which I was grateful.
The third course was some form of spiced potatoes with curled strips of marinated meat. It was excellent, of course, just like everything else created at the hands of elves, and I was glad when we were able to move onto other topics of conversation. I did love my elves. I just wished I could love certain dwarves a little less. Not because of anything they had or hadn't done, but simply because they were no longer here.
"Where did you have my satchel sent?" I asked after doing my best to finish slices of some strange orange fruit that had been drawn-over in pale blue cream. Delicious it may have been, but I was full, and even after a year with the dwarves I wasn't accustomed to being able to eat more than my share. I did manage not to stuff any food down my bodice in front of the elves though. As funny as it would have been to see the looks on their face, I decided it would be best to resist.
"It is here," Thranduil answered as though he'd expected me to make this leap on my own.
"Here as in your home?"
"Of course. I cannot have you returning to your dwarves with stories of how you slept in a disused corridor."
"I don't know, I guess I thought you'd have guest rooms somewhere."
He stood and pushed his chair in behind himself. "We have a guest room here. Come."
(pg202)