#antleredthrone

But then I would be even more of a distraction than I already am for you.

"Oh!" The door to her rooms had hardly opened before a bouquet of flowers was thrust into her face, a bright smile lighting up her face as she took in the sight. Blue eyes looked up to Thranduil as she took the flowers into her arms, sniffing them as she hugged them to her chest.

Thorin sat on a banister near his grandfather's throne, a pipe filled with a weed that made him feel all happy but relaxed inside, he had finally earned the right to braid his beard and had his first bead in the long tresses of it. He haid it twisted around itself thrice before the square bead he ahd hand crafted was placed, and he was quite proud of his looks. This meant that he was offically an adult as seen by all dwarves.

He was young still but had proved his worth early and was readily accepted as a full fledged adult within their society.

Grandfather groaned as he stood, Thror was getting on in his years and there were times he seemed even older than he was. Today was one of those days after meeting upon meeting with councilers that he had rather just postponed. Thorin ahd chosen to sit in on the meetings, paying attention to learn at his grandfather's side so as to help ease his burdens.

"//Thorin, ye will stay in my stead while I go get a bite to eat, aye?//"

"//Of course, Grandfather. I am honored.// With that Thror wearily wandered off, presumably to the kitchens or maybe to be distracted by a small nap. But as all meetings were done, and the people ahd been seen to, barring an emergency this was all just semantics. Someone to be seen as in charge in case anything arose but in all likelihood naught would.

Twenty minutes had passed at most while Thorin kept his perch on the banister, watching the forge far below with envy as he wished to be down there now, but not willing to leave his post because he was a responsible man after all.

Click, Click, Click

The sound of footsteps he did not recognize had him turning to look at the visitor. Men often dragged their feet or hurried as if they ahd better places to be, and dwarves were always heavy footed. But this being only clacked because they wanted to be heard, their graceful stride would have been absolutely silent had they chosen so.

Thorin held his pipe in his hand to keep it from falling as he wanted to drop his jaw. The man that sauntered the walkway was no Man, he was an elf. A race Thorin had heard of but never been allowed to see yet, let alone interact with. This elf though was like no one Thorin had ever seen, tall and graceful, silken hair as pale as the moon, and eyes as blue as the lake below. His cheeks were high and jaunty while his jaw was strong. Not a lick of hair upon his face other than thick eye brows and long lashes.

The sound of clicking died out and Thorin didn't notice as the elf still walked. Finally the elf was close enough that he realized he still sat like a love struck idiot staring at his first crush when he should be in his grandfather's seat to greet the elf like a king would. Clearing his throat he stood finally and set the pipe down to walk towards the elf. If he could not be regal in his grandfather's seat, he could at least greet the elf as if a friend.

Celebrían huffed a laugh.

“You sat down 30 seconds ago.”

Celeborn laughed, detaching Thranduil from his arm. He knelt down and put his hands on his shoulders.

"Me, my lord?"

The elf who had 'accidentally' found his way into the gardens of the king of Doriath was classically Sindarin, soft features and silver hair, and he bowed, deep and reverential.