The Pygmalion Effect
May 9, 2018 3:59:41 GMT -5
Post by Thranduil on May 9, 2018 3:59:41 GMT -5
Thranduil had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Welcoming a new Queen of the Mirkwood was supposed to be a joyous occasion. Despite the fact, this preparation to yield to fresh blood, tasted sour and spoiled, like fruit left too long in the sun. Legolas hadn't been, surprisingly, the party who had been impeding the natural evolution from interest to commitment. No, that fault sat firmly between the shoulders of his intended, Tauriel. The girl was far from perfect even if his son thought differently. She had kept Legolas at an arm's length for a long time, and she didn't seem to care that he'd reserved a place for her by his side for most of their adult lives. Thranduil hadn't been blind to the slight at his heir, and he was very direct with her during the brief dalliance with that piece of garbage which had floated into his realm through a sewer grate.
Nevertheless, loyalties to his son came first.
For now, he would bite his tongue and do his best to herd this wildling into wearing proper grace and dignity. Standing in the wings was a natural branch which held more than a dozen dresses. Adjacent, were boxes of shoes, gloves, jewelry, and of course, a compliment of stays to keep her figure. Thranduil had requested a modestly panel to be erected a few paces off from the collection of attire, and he was pleased to see that his attendants had also remembered to include a padded seat in case Tauriel was in need. In the center of the main room was a table laden with silvered cloth, and a simple arrangement of plates and cutlery. Lesson one was to give a baseline of the elf's skills. Thranduil had no doubt that she was a competent hunter and tracker, but he wasn't here to assess her prowess in that area. He had no recollections of precisely where and when Tauriel had turned her back on more traditional roles; but he was about to find out.
Naturally, the King of Mirkwood did not expect a miracle. He understood that in order to sharpen a blade, the metal had to first be tempered and unless she could lay aside her willfulness, that was impossible. Legolas' choice of wife had devoted her life to flexing useful, talents to be sure, but what he needed to teach her was how to at the very least, wear the mask of a Queen when the need demanded. Calmly he observed the shift of light from the distant chamber to his left and he stood from his throne to descend the carve of stairs. "I trust you did not have any trouble finding a suitable replacement for your post?" Thranduil forwent the niceties of formality with deliberate intent. The lesson had already begun. Now it was time to see if she would lay aside a barbarous retort in exchange for grace to win this subtle exchange.
Nevertheless, loyalties to his son came first.
For now, he would bite his tongue and do his best to herd this wildling into wearing proper grace and dignity. Standing in the wings was a natural branch which held more than a dozen dresses. Adjacent, were boxes of shoes, gloves, jewelry, and of course, a compliment of stays to keep her figure. Thranduil had requested a modestly panel to be erected a few paces off from the collection of attire, and he was pleased to see that his attendants had also remembered to include a padded seat in case Tauriel was in need. In the center of the main room was a table laden with silvered cloth, and a simple arrangement of plates and cutlery. Lesson one was to give a baseline of the elf's skills. Thranduil had no doubt that she was a competent hunter and tracker, but he wasn't here to assess her prowess in that area. He had no recollections of precisely where and when Tauriel had turned her back on more traditional roles; but he was about to find out.
Naturally, the King of Mirkwood did not expect a miracle. He understood that in order to sharpen a blade, the metal had to first be tempered and unless she could lay aside her willfulness, that was impossible. Legolas' choice of wife had devoted her life to flexing useful, talents to be sure, but what he needed to teach her was how to at the very least, wear the mask of a Queen when the need demanded. Calmly he observed the shift of light from the distant chamber to his left and he stood from his throne to descend the carve of stairs. "I trust you did not have any trouble finding a suitable replacement for your post?" Thranduil forwent the niceties of formality with deliberate intent. The lesson had already begun. Now it was time to see if she would lay aside a barbarous retort in exchange for grace to win this subtle exchange.