16. Homecoming

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A/N: This is a huuuuge chapter. So I hope your prepared.  Galour you're for it! Hehehe

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The council chamber of the King is not always the most welcoming of places, nor was it ever designed to be. I liked to keep my dealings in such a place to a minimum as much as was possible when Oropher was alive.

Often, when I received the summons to attend a council session it was merely just for showing up purposes. I would spend my time tucked a few seats away from the King, pretending to listen with rapt attention to things - that in those early days - I knew very little about. I had not the knowledge nor the experience I do now. The burdens of having to deal with, and thrash through, the tough day to day running of an entire kingdom had not yet landed at my very ill prepared feet. Now however I am not so innocent, or as easily intimated, at least not since my humiliating display in front of Galour months before.

The room itself is an interesting roundish shape, with the chairs and tables set in a sort of 'U' shaped design.

At the head table...which by this stage is now laden with pitchers of wine and sliced up crusty loaves with tangy cheeses and the odd picked through bunch of grapes...sits the King. The fact that everyone has easily fell into the way of referring to Thranduil as King, is oddly disconcerting. I know he is now King, and Valar only knows I of all creatures should be more prepared for the title change than most, but there is no doubt that this is extremely surreal and difficult to wrap my head around. I can't quite help but think that if I am having such trouble with it, then Thranduil must be in a state of shock?

Well, if he is he doesn't show it!

Thranduil has taken to interpreting the phrase 'as still as a statue,' extremely seriously. I have yet to see him twitch even a muscle, not even to demonstrate his agitation or discomfort at the tediously long session. His face is entirely unreadable, and his eyes - those eyes that I search so often for the truth of his emotions - are void of thought, just cold coals of ice that barely flicker. He only speaks if necessary, and even then it is nothing above a breathy almost bored question, which would be fine if only his body language didn't scream intimidation and fury. He is frightening like this, and I am not sure if even I have the ability to temper his emotions if he decides to unleash his anger on Galour or his traitorous subjects.

So far this hearing has lasted well into the night, and everyone involved has been brought before Thranduil to give their version of events, right down to the very ladies who I turfed from our home that night. There really isn't much difference between all the stories, most elves have now had a time to stew over their misguided actions, and are only searching for some kind of pardon from their new King, but Thranduil is saving his judgements.

If any subject begins to spew heartfelt apologies, he merely tilts his head away slightly, and some guard trails the poor soul from his presence. It is both thrilling, and slightly terrifying to observe.

I have only ever seen Thranduil in an official capacity on a handful of occasions, and usually when he has a temper or an opinion everyone hears it - but not tonight. I get the distinct impression something has changed in him during these wars, he isn't himself, or maybe he doesn't trust himself? Either way he grips that staff of his like it is the only thing that keeps him sat on that chair.

Haston - which is Galour's nephew - sits on the left of Thranduil, a spectator of the proceedings. I sit closely by my husband's right side, by his request of course. To him I am the victim and deserve an honoured position in which to observe fair judgement. I also believe this is merely a show on his part. I am his wife, the mother of his children and his chosen Queen, he is not about to allow that matter to be thrown up for debate.

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