PAINTING THE WOODS RED
Overall rating: (very mild) orange (see rating explanation below)
Category: slash (two male Elves in love).
Pairing: Thranduil/Lórindol (called "Nonfindel")
Status: complete
Warnings: none
Beta: Eveiya the Ever Efficient
Summary: we learn about King Oropher's slightly excentric taste in arts, and Nonfindel finally gets to do something useful...
CHAPTER 3
Back in his chambers, Nonfindel reached for his sketchbook. While he flipped through the pages to find the drawing he had been working on, he considered his situation.
Thranduil was proving to be far more difficult to win over than he had expected. When the king of Mirkwood had fallen out of a tree, right into his arms, Nonfindel had taken it as a sign from the Valar. He often thought back on that day, when the battle over Námo's ring had been won. Thranduil had felt so right in his arms, and immediately, there had been a bond between them.
A bond Thranduil had stubbornly decided to ignore ever since. Nonfindel often felt his eyes on him when Thranduil thought he was not paying attention. When he took a walk in the woods around the Great Cave, Thranduil watched him from the window of his study. On one unforgettable occasion, Thranduil had carefully laid a blanket over Nonfindel when he had found the Elf seemingly asleep in front of the cold fireplace in his main hall.
This had only confirmed Nonfindel's assumption that Thranduil did care for him. He had tried the subtle approach, but to no avail. Whenever he had tried to flirt, Thranduil had briskly cut him off, had once even thrown him out of his study. So he had decided to go for the more obvious. He knew he was fair, and maybe, with the carrot dangling in front of his face, Thranduil could be persuaded to take a bite?
Nonfindel, having found the drawing, took a piece of graphite and began to work out the details on the draft. It was a portrait of Thranduil. He was featuring predominantly in all of Nonfindel's work since he had arrived in Mirkwood. The first ten pages in his sketchbook showed trees, trees and then some more trees - a precaution to distract prying eyes. But then followed page after page of his favourite model:
Thranduil reading.
Thranduil eating.
Thranduil thinking.
Thranduil sleeping.
It was not easy to fix on paper what he saw in the king's face, because Thranduil usually looked reserved, bored, angry or annoyed. But Nonfindel portrayed him smiling, tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. A fair face, peaceful, at rest. Nothing of the worries which seemed to weigh the king down showed in this piece of art.
Nonfindel was just about to begin work on the hair when he was disturbed by a knock on his door.
"Come in," he called, and the door opened to reveal advisor Lionel. Nonfindel arched an eyebrow, as the usually so tidy looking Elf was covered with a thick layer of dust. There was a dark smudge on his nose, and his braids were askew.
"Lord Lórindol, I am here to ask you in the name of King Thranduil for your assistance," he began, trying to catch a glimpse of the drawing the artist had been working on. But Nonfindel closed his sketchbook quickly, and gave the disappointed-looking advisor his most cheerful smile.
"Your king's wish is my command, dear Lionel. What can I do for him?"
"Please follow me, my lord. I will show you."
Nonfindel followed the advisor deep into the cave. He had been in Mirkwood for over a month, and still he found new corridors, halls and chambers every day; the Great Cave was a labyrinth. Finally, they arrived in a hall Nonfindel had not seen before. It was large, and along the sides, seats were hewn in the walls. The ground was covered with soft, black sand, and a throne stood in the middle. It was not much different from the other stone seats, but its position in the centre of the room made it obvious to Nonfindel whose seat this was.
"This is the Black Cave, where the king holds his meetings with the elders of the clans," Lionel explained. "It is one of the oldest parts of the Great Cave, and this is why we have problems now."
He crossed the hall, and Nonfindel followed him. This place had an odd atmosphere. There was something archaic about it. Elves had sat here in council in a time when Imladris had not even been built. Maybe Mirkwood was even older than they had thought?
Lionel stopped, and pointed at the wall in front of him. Nonfindel looked up, and saw what the problem was.
A part of the ceiling had collapsed, probably weakened by water. The falling debris had covered the back of the hall with stone dust and partially destroyed the large wall painting which had decorated it. The crumbled rock had been carried away already, and Lionel, judging from his looks, had been involved.
Nonfindel shuddered. What a horrid painting!
"Good grief," he gasped, "who is that?"
Lionel winced, and quickly looked over his shoulder to see if they were alone before he answered.
"It is a portrait of the mighty king Oropher, father of King Thranduil. This painting shows him in the glorious battle where he lost his life. It is very - heroic."
Nonfindel shook his head. Oropher was portrayed larger than life, a wild expression on his face. A halo of sunbeams surrounded his head; his naked chest was covered with tattoos - marks of his great victories. Orcs were shown, fleeing in terror, and behind a bush, Elves could be seen, wringing their hands and crying in fear.
He pointed at one particularly terrified-looking Elf, and asked: "May I ask who this might be?"
Lionel cringed.
"This... I guess it is supposed to be the High King, my lord."
Nonfindel laughed out loud, making Lionel once again turn around fearfully.
"Now wait a minute, my friend. Are you trying to tell me that this picture shows Oropher fighting heroically while Gil-galad cowers behind a bush? Say, who wrote your history books - the village fool?"
"Shhhh! Do not speak so loud, somebody could hear you!"
Nonfindel still snickered.
"I am sorry, my dear Lionel, it was not my intention to be disrespectful. But this is nonsense. Gil-galad may not be my favourite Elf under the sun, but he is certainly not a coward. Might it not be time, after all these years, to finally admit that King Oropher was not quite the flawless hero of your books?"
Lionel cleared his throat, then he straightened up.
"Be that as it may. My king Thranduil wondered if you could restore the painting, as he likes it very much."
Nonfindel rubbed his chin, still staring at the painting. There was one figure which had caught his attention. It was a young Elf, kneeling in the mud of the battle field. He was armed with bow and arrow, and aimed at an Orc who was attacking Oropher. His face showed concentration and fear, but also the will not to move, no matter what. It was the face of an Elf who was determined, if necessary, to die for his king.
It was the face of a very young Thranduil.
"I would be honoured to do this," Nonfindel finally said, "but on one condition: I do not wish to be disturbed, as I need to concentrate, and nobody shall see the painting until it is finished. Could you agree to this?"
Lionel, glad that the discussion about the probably not so heroic deeds of Oropher had ended, nodded eagerly.
"Of course, my lord, all shall be as you wish. Tell me what supplies you need, and I shall make sure you are provided with them."
Nonfindel rubbed his hands.
"Wonderful! I will begin immediately. And please, Lionel, give your king my thanks for trusting me with such a prestigious task. I really appreciate it and will not disappoint him."
Lionel promised to pass on the message. He felt a little guilty, as Thranduil's actual words had been "keep this individual busy in the most distant corner of the cave and out of my braids for as long as possible", but he did not have the heart to tell Nonfindel so.
The artist stared at the wall and the half-ruined picture. He knew exactly how to save it.
* * *
TBC