(GIF not mine)

Imagine that upon first meeting Thranduil, a dignitary within his court speaks of you with condescension and insults you heavily in Sindarin. Believing that you couldn’t understand him, because you are not of the Elvish lands, though born to an Elvish parent. Unbeknownst to those before you, you had been listening and indeed, understanding everything the men had been discussing. Particularly what had been said about you, firing back a string of Sindarin so polite and yet so venomous, the nobleman shrunk down beside his king. Thranduil was thoroughly amused and made no attempt to defend his fellow elf.

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(Everything said after the initial greeting will be Elvish, until someone speaks directly to Etain, then it will be specifically noted)

Note: Etain (eh-tayn)

Warnings: Mentions of mixed blood/race. Mentions of prostitution and thieving.

“My king! I present Etain of Oban! Sent by Lord Elrond to be reunited with her people.” Was the cry from an anonymous guard before the mentioned Elleth. Etain didn’t take her gaze from the throne, didn’t dare look away from the king. Lest he see some sort of weakness on her behalf. Though she didn’t falter in her strides to stand before the throne, the floor seemed to pitch and sway beneath her. Etain had always been so sure of herself. Why now, did she question her place in the world? Perhaps, she thought dryly, it was that icy gaze of the Elven King. Regarding her as one might a tiresome child.

Standing before the throne, no longer surrounded by guards was no different. In fact, she thought, it was worse. Etain had to stand alone before King and Council, waiting for some sort of cue from any of those on the steps in front of her. When Etain received none and the noblemen continued their fervent discussion, she simply waited. There was no resentment. No irritation. Immortals of a certain age either gave no regard for how time passed for others. Or they simply didn’t care. They had eternity. They were patient. They could wait. Etain had already decided that she would bear no mind to the challenges of her character - for she knew that their ignoring her presence and speaking in a language they assumed she didn’t understand was just that.

Etain wasn’t sure how long she had stood before the throne, but tried to ease the discomfort in her feet by shifting her weight slightly. To her toes. Then her heels. Then foot to foot. Only subtle changes. Just enough to keep her blood flowing and to stop Etain from passing out. King Thranduil spoke to his council without moving his attention from the Elleth “What do you know of her?” “My lord?” “The Elleth, what do you know of her?” “She is of Oban. A small city. Raised only by a mother. A widow. Human. We…do not know of her father. Simply that he must have been an Elf.” The man speaking gestured to her, “Her eyes and ears give her away to any that gaze upon her. But…the rest is clearly of her mother’s blood.” Thranduil knew the man spoke of her physical build. The King studied her a moment. This Elleth was tall for a woman of any race, though not uncommon for an Elf. Her figure was most definitely not of a she-elf. Instead of lithe and lean, her figure was full and strong. Curved in the way most men admired. It was most definitely telling of her parentage. As the King studied her, he noticed that she was not, in fact, looking at him…but through him. Thranduil knew she had been waiting for some time and he vaguely registered that Etain was shifting about to stay upright. Were this a dire matter to the Elleth, she would have brought attention to her presence. Her casual demeanor in the current situation irritated him “Etain of…Oban,” the men in front of him sniggered as they moved aside. “Why now, have you come to us?” When the Elleth remained unresponsive, the King called again “Etain.”

It was when she began the fifth round of her exercise that she became vaguely aware of someone calling her name. Etain focused her attention and when she noticed all eyes on her, Etain knew she had missed something important. The greasy smirking of one councilman in particular told her as much. His next statement confirmed it. The fact that he chose to speak Sindarin more so “Do you see, my king? A mixed blooded creature, such as this one, could not hope to be accepted here. They’re errant. Soft-minded. Oft’ weak willed and feeble when compared to their…kin”. The Ellon was so fair that such disdain could not seem possible. Yet it dripped from his every syllable. Etain felt her patience wear incredibly quickly when the King hummed with his half-hearted agreement. But she made no move to correct the Ellon. Not when the gaze of the King was so focused on Etain’s every move. Instead, Etain smiled. A smile, she knew, had brought more vicious men to their knees. “I apologize, King Thranduil. I became lost in my own thoughts. What was it you asked of me?” The King couldn’t form an answer before that same Ellon began spout Sindarin “This only confirms it, my king! We must turn her away. Who is to say that her father was of Mirkwood? He could have been any Elf of any land, of any time! What’s worse, is the mother! A human! A mortal! And she could have very-well been of a rather…dishonorable standing in such a city as Oban. Do we truly want a child of such breeding among us? To thieve and whore as much as her dam?” Etain’s pride took the hit terribly. Fire lacing her veins as quickly as the insults fell from the Ellon’s mouth. Etain didn’t throw her hands up. She didn’t cry. She didn’t raise her voice. But when she spoke, that Sindarin rolling elegantly from her lips…the room fell quiet. “I would like to think that I have shown patience thus far. I would like to believe that I have been nothing but respectful. To the King and those of his court.” Though the volume of her voice did not rise, the words slid past her teeth like blades from their scabbard. Quiet. Cold and sharp. “Respect that was not returned from the moment I entered this room. You all gathered before me, turning your backs and speaking of me and my apparently obvious character flaws right before my face. Speaking of me so openly because you believed me too naive or stupid to understand my mother-tongue.” The Elleth’s steely eyes pinned the councilman, her tone growing colder still “Calling me errant. Soft-minded. Weak willed and feeble. Then going so far as to insinuate that I must thieve and whore because of my mixed blood and insulting my mother in the same breath.” Her lip curled back and Etain all but snarled “Never would I have thought those who represent the King to be capable of such contempt.” After a pause…Etain smiled. But it wasn’t happy. It wasn’t warm. It did not reach her eyes. “Perhaps Councilman, it should be you your King should be concerned about. Because you clearly know a great deal of thievery and debauchery. Enough to identify such character by a mere glance.” The Ellon began to shrink back and Etain knew that if Elves could blush, this one would be a rather ugly shade indeed. “Do not stake claim to knowledge you have no basis for nor claim to.” Etain returned her attention to the elven king only to find him watching her already, a smile on his lips so small she hadn’t been sure it was there to begin with. Perhaps, the King thought, there was more to this Elleth than a pretty face.

I feel like there could be a part 2…let me know!