Thranduil resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the polished surface of the long oaken table. He gritted his teeth together and tried to maintain the black, emotionless facade on his face as he listened mindlessly to the stout human at the fat end of the table, rambling on in his gruff, monotone voice about the trade negotiations and how it would benefit all involved.
To the Elvenking, the most beneficial thing right now would be for the man to close his large mouth and sit down. The elves on either side of Thranduil, two of his most trusted advisors, exchanged nervous glances.
Nuimon sighed inwardly. He feared for what might come to pass, if the human from Dale did not sit down.
Just as Lord Celemir had decided to intervene, the man stopped talking and re-seated himself with a large, satisfied sigh, his chubby fingers resting on his considerable belly.
Thranduil eyed the belt fastened around the human’s waist. The leather was pulled as tight as it could go and the buckle was straining visibly. A smirk tugged at the corner of the king’s lips as his mind conjured up the image of the belt snapping. He bit the inside of the cheek to stop himself from grinning outwardly.
Lord Celemir glanced sideways at his king through the corner of his eye. He could easily see the spark of mischief glinting dangerously in Thranduil’s ice blue eyes. He mentally groaned. Now was not the time for Thranduil to start amusing himself.
From mid-way down the table, Legolas glanced up and frowned, wondering what his father could have possible found that was so amusing. However, none of the humans had realised what was going on among the elves.
Nuimon gently touched the sleeve of Thranduil’s robes. “My Liege, should you not sign the documents?” His soft words pulled Thranduil from his thoughts.
“Indeed.” His voice did not betray his earlier thoughts. The room was silent except for the sound of the Elvenking’s quill scratching the paper as he placed his signature on the trade documents. “There, have these documents sealed with my insignia.” Thranduil slid his signet ring off his finger and handed it to Lord Celemir, who stood and gathered up the new trade agreements.
Thranduil pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “If you would follow Lord Nuimon, he will be happy to provide you with plenty of food and drink to satisfy your...appetites.”As Thranduil passed by his son, the prince could see the smirk playing on his lips. With a sigh Legolas shook his head. Whatever his father had found so amusing about the traders from Dale, he was sure he didn’t want to know.