Queen of the Woodland Realm [Thranduil]

Chapter 11: Bound

Author's Note: Betrothals are my absolute favorite thing to write, and here we are!! I hope you enjoy Anona and Thranduil in this chapter. The song on the side is from The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but I thought it absolutely fit the magical atmosphere of this chapter :)

Dedicated to @JosieSullivan0 for her wonderful support on my works <3

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Preparations began right away, and with great urgency. The hall was decorated, the floors swept, and the dresses sewn. I had never seen so many elves in one place, working together with such efficiency.

I was told to stay out of the way and get plenty of rest, for I would be woken up very, very early for my dress and makeup to be worked on. Thranduil was shooed out of my bedroom; it was bad luck for the ellon to see the one he was to be betrothed to before the ceremony.

I personally did not believe in such decorum, or such silly superstitions, but I knew better than to argue with the Queen. She came in from time to time, to make sure I was using whatever masks I was given, and to ask me what colors I preferred for the dress.

“You’ll be getting your very own lady’s maid tomorrow,” she said the third time she came in. I nearly sat up and ruined the mask, but the elf that was working on my face hissed and I relaxed my face.

Growing up in the servant’s hall, I had too often heard the lady’s maids complaining about their work, and how their masters would slap them if they were too slow, or too hasty with the ironing. I knew too many tales of what the nobles did to the maids who dressed them, and was not about to give the servants another reason to gossip about me.

“I really don’t think that’ll be necessary,” I protested, and I could almost imagine her waving away my opinion.

“I insist, my dear.” With that, her footsteps receded down the hall, and I let out a great sigh.

“Hold still!”

I didn’t move again.

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 The next morning, peeling my eyes open against the heavy mud was very difficult. I groaned and almost rolled off of the bed in my disorientation. There was knocking at the door, which soon changed to frantic rattling, and I remembered that I was getting betrothed that day.

“Come in,” I managed through the cracked layers of mask.

“Miss?”

That voice. I knew it. I opened my eyes a crack larger and glimpsed a pale figure with raven-colored hair closing the door after she entered. My first thought of her was that she had good manners.

“I’m here to get you ready,” the voice I knew said, and I felt the mask being pinched away. I closed my eyes and waited for the pain to be over. They say beauty is pain, and Mr. Baggins, they are absolutely right.

I don’t recall being miserable for long, because my new maidservant ensured that she was quick and efficient, much like the rest of my betrothal. I wondered if Thranduil was getting this sort of treatment as well.  I could almost imagine him in his bed, writhing as the servants removed his mask and politely asked him to stay still.

Finally, I was able to open my eyes, although the brightness hurt them at first. My eyes searched the room until they found the maid. She was readying my towel and soap.

Suddenly, I knew exactly where I had seen her face before! “Raweru?” I asked cautiously.

She whipped around and smiled wide. “Oh, Anona.”