Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Da!” Gimli called as he poked his head into the Records Room.  “You in here?”

There was some muffled cursing from …somewhere, but Gimli could not see his father.

Gimli entered into the room, and Legolas followed a step behind.  The elf examined Erebor's Records Room with interest, actually spinning around once to take it all in.  Gimli shook his head.  Silly things, elves.  Even his elf, who was more sensible and level-headed than most, had a distinctive silly streak.

“Well Master Elf?  How does it compare to your father’s record hall?”  he asked, mostly to see those sparkling blue eyes fix themselves on him.

Legolas smirked.  “ My father’s is much bigger” he teased.  “And- it would appear- better organized than this one.” He gestured to the nearest table. It’s top is heaped with books and letters and scrolls tossed about all higgledy-piggledy.

Then the smirk fell from his face and Legolas tilted his head to one side thoughtfully.  “But I suppose the Greenwood has had far fewer dragons to muddle things up.”

“Aye.” Gimli said softly.  He reached out and took Legolas’ hand in his own, threading their fingers together.  “Come along, let’s see if we can’t find which of these stacks has swallowed my Da.”

They picked their way across the room, finally locating Glóin at a half-cleared table in the very back.  He was sitting on a low bench, examining a heavy roll of vellum and swearing.

“What were those idiots thinking?” Glóin grumbled as they approached.  “Did they not discuss this at all with- oh hello lads.”

“Da.” Gimli said. “Ma sent us to rescue you from paperwork.”

Glóin sighed.  “It’s too late for that lad.  This one-” he waved the offending roll of vellum at them, “may have done me in.”

To Gimli’s surprise Legolas slid onto the bench beside Glóin and began examining the scroll as well.

Gimli sighed, “What is it Da?”  He moved to stand at Legolas’ side and started reading over the elf’s shoulder.

It was some sort of contract- a trade agreement he thought.  Judging by the language used it was very very old.  At the bottom in spidery tengwar was Thranduil’s signature along with several Dwarven name marks.

“This is the last real trade agreement Erebor negotiated with Mir-the Woodland Realm,” Glóin said.  He turned to Legolas. “Did you know your ‘Da will be here in a few days to negotiate a new one?”

Legolas nodded. “He wrote me.”

“Aye, so the King wants me to help with the negotiations.” Glóin continued.  “I think he’s hoping you two’ll have a positive influence on events.”

Legolas and Gimli shared a look.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that Da.” Gimli said.

Glóin harrumphed. “Don’t worry I’m not.  That’s why I’m here looking through these papers.”

“To read up on our trade agreements from before the dragon?”  Gimli asked.

“Not from before the dragon lad!” Glóin roared. “From when Erebor first became a kingdom! This treaty is over a thousand years old!”

“You haven’t re-negotiated since then?” Legolas asked.  Gimli was too stunned to speak.

“Nay. Not really.  Most of our dealing since have just been one time agreements or extensions of this one treaty.  And it’s terrible.  Look at these tariffs!  Those damn elves have been bleeding us dry for years! Centuries! It’s like the dwarves didn’t even read half the damn thing!  Either that or Thranduil strong-armed them into it somehow. That-”

Gimli elbowed his Adad before he could say more.

“Oops.” Glóin muttered. He sounded genuinely sorry, Gimli was pleased to note. “Sorry lad. No offense.”

Legolas had gone pale, Gimli noted with concern.  But he also didn’t look like he was listening.

“Legolas?” Gimli asked.

Legolas bit his lip- a sure sign he was nervous- and carefully reached out to unfold the lower right corner of the agreement.  The vellum was very old and slightly singed, the corners curled up on themselves.  In the very corner of the document was a tiny lop-sided flower, drawn in nearly faded pencil or charcoal.

“It’s a wee flower.” Glóin said.  “Wonder where that came from?”

Legolas put his head down on the table and started giggling hysterically.

Glóin stared at the giggling elf, then looked up at Gimli. “Does he do this often?”

“More than you’d think.” Gimli admitted. “Legolas?”

The elf made a strange hiccupping sound.  Gimli took this as an indication Legolas was listening. “How’d you know that wee flower was there?”

Legolas sat up, visibly fighting down giggles.  His ears were bright red and the blush was spreading across his cheeks.  For a long time Gimli hadn’t known if all elves blushed like that or if it was just his elf.  Eventually he had conducted a series of experiments during Aragorn’s wedding celebrations and discovered the ‘ears first’ blush was standard across all elves- this did not make it any less adorable on his elf.

“I drew it.” Legolas said.

“You were at the negotiations?”  Gimli asked.

“Not officially,” Legolas said.  “I was very very young.  Only single digits.  But I think I know how my Ada negotiated such an unfair treaty.”

The bulk of the Mirkwood Royal Complex lies underground in the expansive cave systems carved by the river.  But not all of the palace is below ground.

The Royal Nursery, for instance, is built at the very top most reaches of the cave system.  The round room pokes up through the earth giving the royal offspring a 360 degree view of a secluded-and when the nursery is occupied, heavily guarded- glade.

Legolas had not known that though.

He knew a lot of course.  He wasn’t dumb, but he knew there were lots of people who knew more than him.  Like Ada.  Ada knew everything.  And Mistress Meluiwen, his tutor.  And Galion.

He was only a little elf after all, and he had forever to learn more.

Legolas laid on his belly on the padded window seat that ran all the way around his room.  It was raining outside.  Through the glass the mist and raindrops blurred out the edges of the trees.  It was so pretty.

He was not supposed to be awake yet, he knew.  It was too early.  Ada would be… not mad, and not sad- although yes sad, Ada was always sad now- the other one… disappointed.

Legolas glanced across the room at his bed.  He wasn’t sleepy though.  He stayed by the window instead watching the rain and the grass and the trees.  Eventually the sunlight began filtering its way through the trees.

Thranduil walked into the nursery to wake his son.

The bed was empty.

He panicked for a split second.  All of his worst nightmares come to pass- then he saw the tiny blond form curled up on the window seat.

His heart started beating again.  Thranduil took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Legolas was fine.  He was right there. He had not noticed Thranduil yet, so once he calmed himself Thranduil moved to stand behind his son.

Legolas was still in his nightshirt, and his hair was a mess.  His son’s hair was finer than Thranduil’s own, and had a tendency to get… fluffy if not properly tamed.  Legolas’ hair was yellower than his own too, more like his mother’s…

It had been nearly two years, and the loss still hit him like a sword thrust to the gut.

Legolas noticed him at last, and Thranduil was quick to compose himself.  Legolas had already had to deal with too much of Thranduil grief.

“Ada!!” Legolas was always so happy to see him.  His little elf rolled onto his back and grinned up at him. 

Thranduil could not help but smile back.  “And what are you doing up so early?”

Legolas grabbed one of Thranduil’s hands with both of his own and tried to pull him down onto the window seat.

“Ada come look!”                   

Thranduil acquiesced. He had nowhere he needed to be for hours yet.  He stretched out on the window seat behind Legolas and pulled his small son back against his chest.

“Look!” Legolas pointed out the window at the rainy forest.  “Isn’t it pretty?”

Thranduil could feel Legolas’ heart beating in his chest.  One of Legolas’ small hands is still wrapped around his fingers.  And he was probably making an even bigger mess of Legolas’ sleep- mussed hair.

“It is beautiful.” Thranduil said.  He hugged Legolas tighter.

I will die without this, he thought. 

It was the worst kept secret in his realm.  No one spoke of it but the only person who did not know was Legolas.  Thranduil was healing slowly and poorly.  Another loss would finish him. 

Legolas was all he had left to lose.

Elves saw so much time it was easy to become lost in it.  Minutes could be indistinguishable from hours.  Thranduil let his focus drift, and simply held his son.  He was aware of nothing else until someone entered the room behind him.  He recognized the footsteps.  Thranduil reluctantly let go of Legolas and sat up.

Legolas’ tutor was standing just inside the door.  “My lord?” she said hesitantly.

Thranduil understood her confusion.  He insisted on waking Legolas in the morning and seeing him dressed and his hair done, but by now his duties had usually called him away.  He was rarely there when Meluiwen collected Legolas for breakfast and morning lessons.

“Meluiwen.” Thranduil said. “We’re having a bit of a slow morning.”

“Yes my lord.  I can see that.”

Legolas giggled behind him.

Thranduil glanced back at his son and considered his schedule for today.

It was a bad idea- almost certainly- but he was going to do it anyway.

“Meluiwen, Legolas will not be attending lessons today.”

Legolas gasped behind him and Thranduil was hard pressed to stay straight-faced.

Meluiwen’s lips quirked up, just a bit. “Very good my lord.  Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Can you tell the kitchens to send breakfast up here?”

“Of course my lord.” Meluiwen bowed and left.

Thranduil turned back to Legolas.  His son sat beside him wide-eyed and confused.

“Ada?”

“I have some very important things to do today.” Thranduil said.

Legolas nodded solemnly.

“Do you want to help me?” Thranduil asked.

“For the whole day?” Legolas asked excitedly.

“The whole day.” Thranduil promised.

Legolas grinned hugely and hugged him.  “Yes!”

Thranduil held Legolas close.  “Then we had better get you dressed.”

Meluiwen found Hádhanar -one of the head chef’s assistants- in the kitchens chopping carrots and let him know the king’s wishes.

“It’s no problem.” Hádhanar said.  “We’ll have it right up.  Is…” he hesitated, and glanced around the crowded kitchen.  “Is the prince… well?”

No one in the kitchen stopped working, but it got noticeably quieter. 

“Prince Legolas is fine.” Meluiwen said.  “I believe the King is just being indulgent.”

Hádhanar smiled. “Good.”

Breakfast came up while Ada was teasing knots out of Legolas’ hair.  Ada was very good at brushing hair, he never pulled it. 

Legolas ate while Ada braided his hair back away from his face.

“That is far too much honey.” Ada said.

“But it’s good.” Legolas said.  He stopped adding honey to his bread though.  Ada had put him in one of his nicer tunics, so he would need to be extra careful not to get food on himself.

Ada just shook his head, and kept doing Legolas’ hair.  It was taking Ada a lot longer than usual.  Legolas finished eating, and cleaned off his fingers, and Ada still wasn’t done.  Legolas tried his hardest to sit still for Ada, but it was hard.

“There,” Ada said at last. “You can wiggle all you want now.”

Legolas hopped up and went to go see his hair in the mirror.  Usually Ada just tied the front part back so it was out of his face, but this time he had braided the hair back on each side of his face and then braided the braids together in the back.

“What do you think?” Ada asked.

“It’s pretty!” Legolas said.  And fancy.  He frowned and looked up at his Ada.  “Is today going to be hard?”

Ada thought about it. “Perhaps a little.  It will likely be frustrating and possibly quite boring- but nothing too hard really.” He answered.  “Do you still want to come?”

Legolas thought.  Boring sounded, well, boring.  Frustrating didn’t sound fun either, but Ada said he needed his help.

“Yes.” Legolas said firmly.  He was big now.  Big enough to help Ada with things that weren’t fun.

Ada took his hand. “Let’s go then.”

First Ada had to ‘make the rounds.’  That meant, Ada said, that he went around and checked on everyone to make sure they were alright.

It wasn’t only Ada’s job to make sure people were alright.  Usually Galion and Pestor the steward did it, but it was good for Ada to check in now and then.

They talked to Nídhwen, who was in charge of housekeeping, and Ioriston the librarian.  They went out to the sparring field and talked with Captain Orelneth.  Then they got to watch the guards practice archery! That was Legolas’ favorite thing to do.  Ada had promised he could start learning archery once he was ten.  It seemed an unfairly long wait to Legolas, but Ada would not be moved on the subject.  He had tried everything.  Even asking Galion to help. 

Once archery practice was over- Amrúnion had beaten everyone else again- they went to the kitchens and Hádhanar sneaked him cherry tomatoes while complaining about ‘all these mortal mouths to feed.’

Ada promised him they would be leaving soon.

“Who’ll be gone soon?” Legolas asked as they went down the steps to the wine cellar.  The steps were a little steep for him, and he clung to his Ada’s hand with both of his own.

“There are Men and Dwarves here now.” Ada said.

 “Really?” Legolas asked hesitating a little at the next step.

Ada tugged on his hands to get him moving again.  Legolas hopped down onto the next step. “Yes.  You will be meeting them later.”

Legolas stopped completely, “Really?!”  He had never ever seen Men or Dwarves before.

Ada stopped and looked down at him.  He did not, Legolas realized, look as excited about this as Legolas was.  “Really.” He said.

Legolas was going to ask what was wrong- but then Ada gripped Legolas’s hands tightly and lifted him up in the air.  Legolas giggled as his Ada carried him one-handed down the last five steps.

Felanir, who was in charge of the cellars, was waiting for them.

“My lords.” He said, bowing to them both.

“Felanir.” Ada replied.  He set Legolas down.

“I have the wine and ale lists for this afternoon ready if you would like to look them over.”

“I would.” Ada said, going over to the small table Felanir was by.

They started talking about wine and ale then.  It was a little boring in Legolas’ opinion.  He knew Ada liked wine but he couldn't have any until he was grown up.  He let go of Ada’s hand and looked around.  The cellars were really big, he knew, so he shouldn’t go too far.  He could probably explore a little bit though.

Iessel walked down the stairs to the cellars as quietly as possible.  The King was supposed to be making his rounds today...

Sure enough the King was there by the stairs discussing wine with Felanir. 

Iessel gave the conversation a wide berth.  Thranduil was a good king of course, but he was also –intense, and a bit frightening to be honest.  If at all possible Iessel wanted to avoid him.  She’d gotten this job in the cellars to avoid dealing with people, after all.  Not to have to talk to their literal king.

She was busy trying to creep by undetected.  That was her excuse later for why she had nearly run down the young prince when she turned the corner.

The prince was very quiet- but no, still not a good excuse.

At least she had caught herself before actually bowling the elfling over.  She even managed to bite back her curse when she realized exactly who she had nearly trampled. 

The prince was not concerned or fazed by Iessel’s appearance at all.

“Hello,” he said.  “What’s your name?”

“I-Iessel.”

“I’m Legolas.”

Iessel smiled nervously. “I know who you are my lord. …Is there something I can do for you?”

Legolas shook his head.  “I’m helping Ada today.” He explained.  “But he doesn’t need my help right now.”

Iessel glanced back to where she knew the King was.  She couldn’t just let the elfling wander around…

“…Perhaps you could assist me for a bit my lord?  Until your father needs you again?”

Legolas looked delighted by the idea. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well I’ve some barrels I need to send down river.  Can you help me with that?”

Thranduil had not realized Legolas had wandered so far off until he and Felanir finished going over the beverage choices for lunch.

“Legolas.” He called- and did not get an answer.

“I believe I saw him following Iessel around earlier My Lord.”  Felanir said.  “They’re probably over by the barrel hatch.”

Thranduil nodded and headed that way, Felanir falling into step behind him.

As they neared the hatch the sounds of the river grew louder.

“Won’t they get sunk or smashed up?” he heard Legolas ask.

“Sometimes we lose a barrel or two,” someone else said.  Iessel most likely.  Thranduil did not believe he had ever met her before. “But that’s why we sealed them up so well, if they don’t fill up with water they float over most of the rocks and are just fine.”

“And then they go to the Lake and the Lake-men get them?”

“Exactly.  Now do we have all ten barrels?”

“… Yes.” Legolas said.

Thranduil stopped as he came upon the hatch at last.  He was behind Legolas and the other elf.  Neither of them had yet noticed him.

“Alright.” Iessel said. She was a slim elleth with light brown hair.  “Now we pull the lever and…”

She reached out and pulled the hatch release lever while simultaneously fisting her other hand in the back of Legolas’ shirt.

The barrels plunged down into the river.  Legolas leaned forward to get a better look, only to be brought up short by Iessel’s hold on his shirt.  Legolas didn’t try to pull away from her grip, but once the hatch closed he looked up at her curiously.

“I wasn’t going to fall in.  And even if I did I can swim.” He said. 

“I am sure you can my lord, but if you did fall in I would have to go in after you- and I am not a very good swimmer.” Iessel said.

“Why would you have to jump in too?” Legolas asked.

“Your Adar would worry if you fell in alone.”

“I most certainly would.”  Thranduil said.

Iessel startled badly.  She nearly tripped over her feet as she whipped around. Thranduil decided to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

Legolas lit up like the dawn and ran to tug at Thranduil’s robes.  “Ada! I helped send the barrels!”

“I saw.” Thranduil said, picking up his son.

“Are you done with Felanir?” Legolas asked.

“Yes.  We’ve other places to be.”  Thranduil nodded to Iessel.  “Thank you for minding my son.”

Iessel nodded wordlessly.  Thranduil turned and headed back to the stairs.  Behind him he heard Felanir speaking softly to Iessel.  “See that wasn’t so bad was it?  …Mellon nin remember to breathe.”

Thranduil smiled as he carried Legolas from the cellar and headed toward the main conference chamber and his first trade negotiations of the day.

“Legolas,” he said as they walked.

“Yes Ada?” Legolas said.

He hadn’t gotten dirty.  Thranduil noticed.  Likely Iessel had not let him do anything to ruin his clothes.  That was good.  They did not have time to change.

“We are going to meet with some Men from the Lake now.” He said.

Legolas goggled at him.  His son had never seen mortals before.

“Really?” Legolas nearly squeaked.

“Yes.  It will probably be very boring.”  Thranduil warned.  “We are working out trade agreements.  We are nearly done though. Hopefully it will not take long.”

“What should I do?” Legolas asked.

“You will need to be as quiet and polite as you can.” Thranduil told his son. 

“Most of the Men speak only Westron.  If they speak to you you should answer in Westron as well.  I will help you if you need it.”  Legolas had been learning Westron from the cradle, but it was the language he had the least practice with.  “A few of them speak Elvish, but only Sindarin.  No Silvan.  It is rude to speak in front of others in a language you know they cannot understand.”

“Yes Adar.”

They were outside the chamber now, but Thranduil stopped.  He caught Legolas’ eyes.  “You know that mortals die when they get old.” he said.

Legolas nodded.

“They also grow old much quicker than elves.” Thranduil explained.  “A normal man is considered very old if he turns 100.”

Legolas’ eyes widened.  An elf of 100 was only just grown.

“There are several men here who are ‘old’ in the mortal sense.  You must not stare Legolas.  As Men grow old they wither, like fruit left uneaten too long.  Their hair turns gray or white and their skin sags and hangs from their bones.  And this is just how Men are. Do not stare.”

“Yes Adar.”

Thranduil tried to think of anything else Legolas would need to know, but he could think of nothing.  He would likely remember three more things as soon as they entered the room.

…Should he put Legolas down?

Legolas straightened up in his arms and bit his lip.

No, he decided.  Legolas was nervous enough without being smaller than everyone else.

“Are you ready?” Thranduil asked.

“Yes.” Legolas said.

Thranduil pushed the doors open.

You could hardly tell you were underground really, Vidar thought.

That was probably the thing he found most interesting about the Halls of the Elvenking.  Sometimes in fact you were above ground, but didn’t realize it.  If his quarters hadn’t had a balcony he would have assumed they were underground.

He honestly could not tell if the room they were in now were underground or not.  It was downstairs from their quarters but that meant nothing.  Their first day here he and Jess had tried to find the library without help.  They had gone down two flights of stairs from a room they had thought underground only to find a courtyard open to the night air.  The Elvenking’s palace was positively labyrinthine.  All the elves he had met were glad to play guide, but Vidar had hoped to be able to find some things on his own.

…He would be glad to be home.  His father felt the same way, he knew, and Olaf’s sighs over his wife and children back home were growing steadily louder.

At least they were nearly done.  The negotiations were going very well in fact.  They had to hammer out the shipping schedules still, but barring any catastrophes they should finish today.

Assuming Thranduil showed up.

That was probably unfair of him.  Thranduil was usually there before them, true.  But they had only been waiting a few minutes.

The door opened just then, as if his internal complaints had been heard and answered.

Thranduil looked much the same as he always did.  Graceful and ethereal, and well, beautiful.  The brocaded outfit was bronze today, his wrap gold and dark green- and that, sitting in the crook of Thranduil’s arm watching them shyly was the tiniest elf he had ever seen.

Olaf had asked after their welcoming banquet where all the children were.  ‘Elves don’t have so many.’ Rob had said. ‘They hardly need heirs considering how long they live.  And you won’t be seeing the ones they do have.  They keep a closer eye on their little ones than a dwarf keeps on his coin purse.’

The Elvenking had a son.  Rob had told them when he warned them not to speak overmuch of family.  Thranduil’s wife had died not long ago- and grief hit elves harder than it did Men.

The little elf certainly looked like Thranduil. Same eyes, same skin, same pale hair with oddly dark eyebrows… that must be an elf thing.

The head of their delegation, Arngeir, stood to greet the King and the rest of them followed suit.

“My lord,” Arngeir said as he bowed.  The little elf, who had been watching them wide-eyed, hid his face in Thranduil’s hair.

Thranduil nodded back. “My son Legolas will be joining us today.” He said.  He offered no apology for his lateness or explanation why his son was there.  “I hope that will not be a problem.”  He added in a tone that made it clear that if any of them did have a problem with it they could go have it somewhere else.  Vidar bit back a smile.

“Of course not my lord.”  Arngeir said.  No one else said anything.  What could they say?

Thranduil nodded and sat, settling his son on his lap.  The little elfling seemed very shy.  He did not speak and mostly hid his face in his father’s chest. 

They got down to business.  Vidar didn’t have much to do, honestly.  He and his father had just been there to help hammer out hunting rights and such but that was all done.  They only had the schedules for the supplies ferries to work out now, so he sat quietly and tried not to stare at the elfling.  The little Prince was doing something similar he noted.  He would peek out and look around him and then hide his face again.  Vidar caught the elfling looking his way a few times, he would smile at the prince, and the little one would hide his face again.

Legolas seemed to be avoiding looking at Rob or his father…Vidar wondered if he had not seen older Men before.  As he watched-subtly of course- the little prince looked up again, not at him this time, and- grinned hugely before hiding his face again.

A short while later the prince glanced back up and did it again.

What was he…?  Olaf was making faces at the King’s son when he looked that way.

…And Thranduil had noticed.

The prince was giggling now, although he was trying hard to stay quiet.  Thranduil looked amused.

Arngeir elbowed Olaf and cleared his throat.  “My apologies my lord.”

Thranduil nodded serenely.  He did not seem concerned at all about his son giggling all through the rest of the conference. 

“It is no matter.” The King said.   “Shall we continue?”

“Yes of course-” Arngeir said.

“Have you gone over your needs for transport protection?” Thranduil asked.  He almost seemed to be ignoring Olaf- who had started making faces again- and his son’s giggling.  It would have been a more convincing display if the Elvenking’s lips had not quirked every time the little prince laughed.

The treaty was signed.  The Men would be heading back to their homes tomorrow.  It had gone very well.  The Men had gladly agreed to most of his proposals and the few disputes had been easily worked out.  Legolas had even said goodbye to the delegation- in hesitant but correct Westron. 

Galion brought him the paperwork he would need for the next meeting- along with far more scratch paper then he would ever need, and numerous pencils.

Legolas had wiggled off his lap after the Men left, and was currently exploring underneath the table.  Attendants began bringing in food- the next meeting was a lunch meeting.  Thranduil slid from his chair and sat on the floor as well.  He set the extra papers and pencils down.

“Ada?” Legolas said.  He crawled over to his father.

Thranduil touched his son’s face.  “I have another trade agreement to negotiate now.”

Legolas looked up at him. “After lunch?”

“They’ll be joining us for lunch actually.” Thranduil told him.  “These negotiations won’t go as smoothly I’m afraid.”

“Who’s coming?” Legolas asked.

“Dwarves from Erebor.”

“Oh!” Legolas frowned.  He sat in silence for a long moment and then asked, hesitantly. “Ada, are dwarves… bad?”

Thranduil bit back his first response.  This was not Doriath.  The dwarves of Erebor were not those dwarves.

“Dwarves are different than Elves or Men.” Thranduil explained. “They do not feel as we do. Precious metals and gems are more important to them than anything else.  But they are not all bad- not like orcs.  And these dwarves are not bad. I would not let bad dwarves come here.”

“Alright.” Legolas said.

“The dwarves will not be as friendly as the Men were.” Thranduil warned.  “They may yell and be angry.”

Legolas bit his lip.  Thranduil pulled his son up onto his lap.  “Dwarves are often loud.  And stubborn.  Do not worry, nothing bad will happen.”

Legolas curled up against his father’s chest. “Alright.” 

They sat like that for a while, while the table was loaded with food. 

Legolas looked up at him. “Can I... maybe stay down here?”

“Under the table?”

“Yes.”

“You could…” Thranduil considered, looking around at the space under the table.  It was roomy enough-especially with the table full of dwarves- and would keep Legolas out of the dwarves’ scrutiny for at least a little while.

“My lord,” Galion said softly.  “The dwarves are coming.”

Thranduil left the drawing supplies, Legolas, and his wrap on the floor.  He stood and filled a goblet with water for Legolas.

“Stay put and be quiet.” He told his son as he handed him the water. “I’ll hand you down lunch in a bit.”

Legolas nodded and settled back down on the wrap with the scrap papers.

Thranduil straightened, double-checked he had everything he needed, and composed himself.

The far door of the conference room opened. The dwarves were here.

Thranduil was standing at the head of a long table when they entered.  Looking haughty and tall and far far too Elvish for Ardi’s taste.

At least there was plenty of food-including, he was pleased to see, a large quantity of meat.

“Told you.” Svior murmured to him.  “They’ve got to eat meat.  What else would they eat?  They can’t live on berries.”

Ardi smiled at his friend.  “Well you never know with elves.  Maybe it’s all for us.”

When he looked back toward the table he could have sworn Thranduil was staring at him.

Fraeg, the leader of the negotiation team, stepped forward then to formally greet Thranduil.

Ardi kept quiet through the greetings and pulled up a seat near the far end of the table with Svior.

They would be eating first and talking business later, so Ardi settled down to eat with a will.  He did keep half an eye on the Elvenking though, to see if he actually ate any meat. 

It was because he was watching Thranduil that he noticed the King was fixing two plates.  One was directly in front of him-obviously his own- and a second one off to the side. 

Why was he doing that?  Ardi did his best to watch the Elvenking as subtly as he could.

Thranduil had loaded his own plate with salad- untouched by the dwarves- and venison, but he seemed to be trying to get a little bit of everything on the second plate.  Venison, goose, berries, salad, a slice of bread with honey, some potatoes.  Small portions of all of them went on the second plate. 

Thranduil was picking tomatoes out of the salad and loading them on the second plate when Svior distracted him.

“What are these?” he asked, gesturing at a steaming plate of what looked like black crab.

“Those are spider legs.” Thranduil said.

Svior managed not to respond to that beyond a very carefully neutral. “Oh.”

Some of the other dwarves were not so tactful.

“Disgusting!”

“Are you trying to poison us?”

Thranduil’s face was set. “It’s similar to shellfish.” He said. “And not poisonous.  And no one is making you eat it.”  That last bit sounded a bit put out.

Bavör, the one shouting about poison, shot Thranduil a dirty look.  Ardi rolled his eyes, like it was the elf’s fault that Bavör had been rude.

Bavör was actually sitting far closer to Thranduil then he probably should be.  Iri, the only dwarf between them looked nearly as put out at the seating arrangement as Thranduil did.

Svior pretended there hadn’t been any outburst and picked out one of the legs to try.  “I do like shellfish.”

It was enough to end any continuation of the discussion.  Things settled and Ardi had almost forgotten about the second plate.  The food was very good if a bit unusual, elves seemed to use more herbs and less spices than Ardi was used to, but it was still food and Ardi was still technically a growing dwarf…

But then Thranduil took the second plate and put it under the table.   Ardi watched him straighten up without the plate.  Thranduil had dogs- but he hadn’t leaned over far enough to put the plate on the floor...

  Ardi waited a bit, until everyone had gone back to eating, and then made like he had dropped something.  Ducking down as quickly and unobtrusively as he could.

There was a tiny elf under the table.

The wee lad, at least Ardi thought they were a lad, was laying on his stomach on a blanket-no it was one of those huge shawls Thranduil wore- of green and gold.  He was drawing or writing on a sheaf of paper and as Ardi watched he reached out with his free hand, grabbed a piece of tomato from his plate, and popped it in his mouth.

He looked like Thranduil, Ardi realized.  Most elves looked… similar to Ardi he would admit, but he could definitely see the family resemblance.  Thranduil had a son, Ardi recalled.  A very young son, and a dead wife they were absolutely not to bring up.

The little elf had frozen like a deer.  He slowly turned to look at Ardi.  Elfling and dwarf regarded each other.  Then, hesitantly, the little lad waved at him.  Unsure of the protocol for meeting what was almost certainly a prince while they were under a table at a trade negotiation Ardi waved back- and sat up abruptly as Svior elbowed him in the side.

“What are you doing?”  Svior hissed. “Find buried treasure?” 

“There’s a wee lad under there.”  Ardi whispered back.

“What?” Svior said, far louder than Ardi liked.  But before Ardi could explain Svior stuck his head under the table too.

Thranduil had noticed. The Elf King was glaring at him.  Every horror story Ardi had ever heard about the wrath of elves came back to him.  Thranduil looked like he would gladly skin Ardi alive right here at the meeting, with a table knife.

“It must be the Prince.” Svior said, sitting back up. “I-” he cut off abruptly when he noticed the look Thranduil was now giving both of them.

Ardi managed to tear his gaze away from where Thranduil was calculating how many dwarf-skin chairs he could get out of the pair of them and looked to Svior.

“What do we do?” he whispered.  At least no one else seemed to have noticed them peeking under the table.

Svior straightened in his seat. “Nothing.” He said.  “Lad’s not hurting anything. We eat lunch and we negotiate.  And we don’t kick our feet too much.” He added.

Ardi nodded.  As he turned back to his plate Ardi noticed Thranduil was now ignoring them utterly. Had he heard them?  Elf ears couldn't be that good could they? Whatever the reason the Elvenking’s eyes were now fixed on the papers before him, reading as he ate.

Fraeg bit back another sigh.  He was going to have a long talk with the king about Bavör when this was over.  He never should have been allowed on this delegation- he was far too argumentative.  It wasn’t like they were in a great bargaining position to start with, they were still a new colony after all.  They had precious little to offer right now except raw metal- not something elves were fond of.  That Thranduil had agreed to speak to them at all was a miracle- he had ignored them utterly while they were establishing themselves in Erebor.  Maybe agreeing to this conference now was because he was taking the long view of things- an elf would- or maybe he just liked lording his power over them, either way the last thing they needed was to make an enemy of the Elvenking.

Fraeg had been willing to accept Thranduil’s proposal for twice monthly escorts for their caravans- they didn’t trade that much with the lands west of the Misty Mountains, they hardly needed more.  But Bavör was arguing the elves should provide escorts whenever the dwarves wanted.  Fraeg wanted to smack him.  They had more important things to argue about, like the ridiculous tariffs Thranduil had proposed.  Fraeg looked over the most revised version of the agreement.  They’d been focusing on smaller issues so far.  But it was high time they moved on.

“Well I hardly see why we should have to suffer because the Elf-King can’t manage his guard!” Bavör snapped.

Fraeg sighed aloud that time.  Across the table Ardi and Svior flinched and exchanged looks.   Well at least the younger generation was learning how not to handle elves.

Thranduil was smirking.  If the last weeks of negotiations had taught him nothing else it was that that smirk was never good.

“My guard are very organized.  It is being at the beck and call of Erebor that would be disruptive.” He said.

“Only undertrained troops are unable to act at a moment’s notice.” Bavör shot back.

“All my guard has been at their task since before you were born.” Thranduil replied serenely.  “They are very well trained.  Too well trained to waste their time helping dwarf merchants over tree roots, but I was trying to be neighborly.   If my guard aren’t up to your standards perhaps Erebor can  supply their own guards to mind their caravans.”

Bavör went red in the face and Fraeg stood.  Best put an end to this before Bavör started a real fight. “Enough.” He said, looking at Bavör.  “King Thranduil is being more than generous with his offer and we will accept his proposal.”

Thranduil nodded, graceful and composed as ever. Bloody elves.

Bavör bristled. “Don’t go flattering the daft tree-hugger while he kicks us in the teeth!”

Fraeg saw the flash of genuine irritation on Thranduil’s face.  The King replied before he could hush Bavör.

“Oh I wouldn’t do that.” Thranduil said, his voice dripping with disdain. “It would ruin my shoes.”

More than one dwarf started shouting then while the damned elf just sat there smirking- but Bavör was by far the loudest.

“You- You! Some King you are!” he roared. “Nî durzumêzu kekhaf ma zamahkekhefmi ai-hu!”                                                                                                                                                                        

“WHAT?” Gimli and Glóin said in unison.

Legolas frowned.  “I’m probably not saying it right, and I’ve no idea what it means.”

Gimli hesitated and shot his father a look. Glóin looked torn between hysterical laughter and shock that anyone could be so stupid.

“Nî… Nî durzumêzu kekhaf ma zamahkekhefmi ai-hu?” Gimli said slowly.

Legolas nodded. “Yes.  That was it. What’s it mean?”

“If your face were a latrine I wouldn't even defecate on it.” Gimli said honestly.  Glóin started chuckling.

Legolas brows rose in shock. “They were very lucky my Adar doesn’t know any Khuzdul.” He said softly.

Glóin bit his fist until he got his laughter under control.  “So what happened next lad?”

The silence was immediate and deafening.

Did Thranduil know Khuzdul?  Some of the older elves did, Fraeg knew.  The Elvenking was utterly still.  He looked calm, but you could never really tell with elves.  Thranduil would know it was an insult either way, but if he understood Khuzdul they were all dungeon bound…

In the dead silence there was a quiet shuffling sound from under the table.  Thranduil looked down, his face still and unreadable, and made a ‘come here’ gesture.

Fraeg noticed Ardi and Svior simultaneously bury their faces in their hands.  Then the little elfling crawled out from under the table and Fraeg wanted to join them. 

The wee lad stood beside the King’s chair- his head barely peeked over the table- and handed Thranduil a sheet of paper that looked like it was covered in childish doodles.  The king took the paper and examined it carefully before setting it down with the other documents before him.

“Ada,” the little thing said, and then he said more in Elvish too fast and lilting for Fraeg to catch.  Iri, the other dwarf in the delegation who knew Elvish had gone pale beneath her beard.  She spoke Elvish better than Fraeg, maybe she had caught more of what the lad had said.  Fraeg had understood enough though.  Ada the lad said.  Oh good.  Bavör had insulted the King in front of his son.

“Westron Legolas.” Thranduil said.

The prince ducked his head slightly, “Sorry.”

Thranduil waved a hand dismissively.  “What did you do to your hair?”  he asked.

“Nothing!” the wee lad protested immediately, hands flying up to pat at his braids.  Mahal save them he was so little.  And he had been there the whole time.  Some of the other dwarves were shifting uncomfortably, aware some of their behavior thus far had not been suitable for small children.

Thranduil scoffed and scooped the elfling up.  He set his son in his lap and started fussing over the lad’s hair.

The little prince fidgeted and tried to look up at his father.  “Ada what did that dwarf say?”

Thranduil stared at Bavör, a faint smirk on his lips. “I don’t know.” He said kindly enough. “Why don’t you ask him?”

There had not been anything wrong with the boy’s hair.  Ardi was certain.  Thranduil was just dragging this out to torture them.

Bavör was red faced with embarrassment already, but he paled completely when Legolas bit his lip and looked at the dwarf sideways.

“What did you say?” the elfling asked.

Bavör sputtered and didn’t respond immediately. “I-” he began when no one else jumped in for him.  “It’s not something that needs translating lad.”

“But it is.” The prince protested. “Because I didn’t understand it.”

“I didn’t want you to.” Bavör said.

The little elfling frowned.  “Ada says it’s rude to say a thing in a language not everyone understands on purpose.”

“It is rude.” Thranduil said, still smirking.  He was slowly and meticulously picking apart the perfectly good braid at the back of his son’s head.

“It’s… a little lad like you doesn’t need to know.” Bavör tried desperately.

Legolas frowned again.  “I’m not little,” he said in direct contradiction to all obvious facts.

“You’re seven.” Thranduil said.  “That is fairly little.”

Seven.  Ardi flinched, and several other dwarves gasped.  He had thought the lad was older than that- but of course an elf child would be taller than a dwarf child of the same age.  Bavör looked horrified.

Legolas did not seem to notice their surprise.  He huffed and tried again to look at his father.  “But I’m not a baby.”

Thranduil’s face when soft and indulgent for a moment as he regarded his son  It was a startling contrast to the looks the dwarves had seen these past weeks. “No,” he said. “You are not a baby.”

Legolas looked back at Bavör- who looked like he wished he could sink into the floor.  The little prince still looked extremely confused about why Bavör wouldn’t tell him what he had said.  Then his blue eyes went wide, “Did you say something bad?”

Bavör cringed. “Aye, lad.”

“Why?!” The elfling sounded shocked.

“I was not thinking clearly,” Bavör admitted.  “And had I known you were here I would certainly not have said that.”

Thranduil had started re-braiding his son’s hair, Ardi noticed, very quickly. The new braid looked no different from the old one.

“That doesn’t make it better you know.”  Legolas said, with the rock hard moral certainty of childhood.

“No it doesn’t.” Bavör admitted meekly.  Ardi almost felt sorry for him.

“There.” Thranduil announced, tying off his son’s braid.  “Now,” he continued, keeping the small boy on his lap. “If you are through teaching my son new… vocabulary.” The look he shot them all was scathing. “Perhaps we can get this treaty signed?”

The little prince sat on his father’s lap watching them all curiously, and Ardi can see already the effect his presence will have on negotiations. Hard enough to make Thranduil concede a point in their favor, it will be harder still with his wee lad sitting there frowning whenever their arguments turn heated.

Ardi looked at Fraeg and he can see Fraeg knew this too.

Fraeg smiled politely. “Might we have a moment to discuss …things before we go forward?”

Thranduil nodded. “Of course.”

The dwarves huddled together at the far end of the room and began talking quietly.  While they did that Ada went to get his other papers from under the table for him.  Ada settled Legolas back on his lap and then just watched the dwarves while playing with Legolas’ hair.

Legolas tried not to stare at the dwarves, but until they had gathered to talk together he had not realized how short they were.  What size were little dwarves? He wondered.  If that was how small grown-ups were?

But there wasn’t much else to do besides look at the dwarves- and Ada was doing it…  But they’re just talking.  It’s a little boring, just like Ada had told him it would be.  Legolas turns his attention to his papers and started drawing again.

…He could still hear the dwarves talking though.  They were not very good at whispering.

“You’re the idiot who almost got us thrown in the dungeons.”

“…not my fault he snuck his-”

“Shut up all of you. Let’s just sign it.”

“It’s not like we’ll never re-negotiate.”

“But the tariffs-”

“Should have thought of that before you never shut up about the escorts shouldn’t you?”

“We can’t just not-”

“You want to spend the next week-at least- trying to negotiate while the lad makes worried faces every time someone raises their voice?”

“Or demands explanations whenever we’re impolite to his Da?”

“…Fine.”

Oops.  That last flower was on one of Ada’s papers.  Legolas folded under the corner of the sheet the little flower was on and moved his papers on top of it.  Hopefully Ada wouldn’t notice.

“Alright.” One of the dwarves announced loudly, and Legolas cannot help but start.  Not very good at whispering but good enough at shouting it seemed.

The dwarf who spoke eyed him before continuing. “We’ve decided the treaty in acceptable as is.  We’ll sign it.”

Ada smiled. “Wonderful.”

He pulled a paper from the mess of papers in front of them.  It was the paper Legolas accidentally drew on.  Legolas bit his lip, but Ada did not notice.  He just signed the paper in script far neater and prettier than Legolas could yet manage and passes the paper and quill on.

Legolas saw the paper when it came back to Ada.  The dwarves had drawn funny little pictures instead of writing their names.

Ada asked the dwarves if they needed anything else, but they all said no and the loud one said they were leaving tomorrow.  Then they were going. They walked really loudly too- their boots were heavy and covered in metal so they clanked against the stone floor.  Legolas wondered when he would see another dwarf- he had never heard of dwarves coming to the woods before.

As soon as the door closed behind the dwarves Ada jumped up and spun them around in circles.  Then he kissed Legolas on the nose.  Legolas giggled and hugged his Ada tightly.

The door behind them opened and Pestor came in looking worried.

“My lord I heard the dwarves left- was there a problem with negotiations?” Pestor asked.

“No.” Ada said, “Negotiations have ended that is all.  Alert the household staff the Erebor delegation will be leaving tomorrow, and have a copy of the agreement made for our records.”

Pestor looked surprised.  “Of course my lord.”

“Ada,” Legolas said as Pestor hurries off.  “What do you have to do now?”

Ada hugged him.  “I actually don’t have to do anything else today.  What do you want to do?”

Legolas grinned.  “Can we go watch the archers again?”

Ada smiled at him and tugged on his ear, “Of course.”

Gimli laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“The mighty dwarves of Erebor,” he choked out.  “Brought down by a cheeky wee elf lad.”

Glóin grumbled, but good naturedly.  “Still don’t see why they never renegotiated.”

Legolas sighed.  “I would not be surprised if Ada was… difficult about it.”

“Most likely.” Glóin said.  “Well hopefully these negotiations will go smoother.” He examined Legolas.  “At least you’re too big to fit under the table anymore.”

Legolas laughed and looked back at the treaty.  “You know,” he said slowly.  “This treaty specifies free passage for two dwarven parties a month.  It doesn’t say they have to be merchants.  Technically the Company of Thorin Oakenshield should have been allowed free passage through the wood.  And a guide should have been provided at your request.”

Glóin roared with laughter. “I’ll have to bring that up!” he said.  “See what Thranduil has to say about that!”

“Just don’t tell him I told you.” Legolas said.

Glóin ruffled Legolas’ hair fondly.  It was not an Elvish custom, but Legolas knew enough of dwarves to bear it good naturedly.  “No worries my lad, my lips are sealed.  Now come on.”  He stood and headed toward the door. “Before the Missus comes looking for us too.”