Meanwhile, Thranduil had gone back to the throne room, fairly certain it would be empty. He needed a quiet place where no one would bother him and he could try to figure out who the murderer might be. Thankfully the room was empty and he strode to his throne. However, this chamber still held Arabesque’s seat, which was situated beside his, and everywhere he turned the memories of her plagued him. Then he recalled her lifeless body on their bed. “Arabesque, my love, my Meleth!” he cried, a mist coming over his eyes. He leaned over and held his head in his hands, his crown of leaves and berries tumbling to the ground. His heart, broken and torn beyond repair, caused him to fail to notice his diadem’s plunge. The simple things of life, even those he cared about, didn’t matter anymore. How could he go on with life without his beloved by his side? She had always been there for him, knew his best and worst moments, and loved and cherished him all the same.
After several minutes, the Elvenking regained his regal composure and set about trying to recall who last saw the queen, besides himself. Everyone knew he couldn’t possibly be the killer; it was obvious to even the elf who had only just met them that the couple thoroughly loved each other and would never willingly hurt the other. Suspecting Legolas was just as preposterous an idea; who would murder his own mother?
The only other person that close to the queen was Fairion, Thranduil’s right hand man. He had been there for the couple ever since their marriage. He took his position when Oropher, the Elvenking’s father, was slain long ago in the War of the Last Alliance of men and elves, and his second-in-command along with him. Fairion had been a good friend throughout Thranduil’s life, and he knew his assistant loved Arabesque almost as much as he did, although not in a romantic way but rather closer to a sister.
A serious expression on his dazzlingly handsome face, the Elvenking tried to remember when he had last seen the Elvenqueen alive. They had woken up that morning and had breakfast in bed together, then set about to their daily duties. After going their separate ways, they met again at lunch. Then Arabesque had gone to their chambers to tidy up a bit. Even though they had many servants who could do those sorts of things, the queen always insisted she was perfectly capable of cleaning up her own room and if she couldn’t do that she wasn’t worth anything as a queen.
So lunch was the last time he had seen her alive. He’d had some unexpected duties and took longer than he intended to return to his chambers. Many times the royal couple would set aside a time in the afternoon just to enjoy each other’s company in the privacy of their own room, a time both cherished immensely; it irked him to have to see to it that the kingdom was in proper order before seeing to his precious wife. In the three hours Thranduil had been apart from his wife, any number of people could have entered their room and done the dreadful deed.
A hard look swept over his gorgeous features, and anyone who saw would have cowered in fear. Tonight at their evening meal, he would make sure he got a complete list of everyone’s activities in those three hours. He would find that evil murderer if it was the last thing he did!
~
Finally, everyone gathered in the great hall for their meal, from the greatest to the least. Thranduil stood erect at the head of the table. “Is absolutely everyone present?”
The elves glanced around, quite frightened at his menacing tone. “Yes,” they whispered, not noticing anyone missing. They knew what would happen to the elf who failed to obey the king’s orders, and it certainly would not be pretty.
“Good. As you well know, we have had a great tragedy amongst us today. I command that everyone give me a detailed description of where you were from lunch this afternoon until about three o’clock. I want the reports brought straight to me the instant you have them written. I have had my chambers moved to the other side of the palace, so you will find me there. Any questions?”
His glare sent shivers down everyone’s spines and they hunkered down, not daring to even whisper amongst themselves.
“Fine. Eat your food, then immediately write your reports. I suspend all your duties until you have that done.” The Elvenking sat and picked at his food. He had little appetite, since some of Arabesque’s favourite foods were on his plate, a vivid reminder of his devastating loss. Come to think of it, he didn’t even care if he lived any more. Life without his true love was a miserable swamp of despair, like he had fallen into a dark, grimy hole with no light and absolutely no way of escape, his heart so heavy it weighed him down even further. How he hated the pitying glances his royal subjects shot him from time to time. He knew they really cared about him, but he didn’t want their pity. All he wished for was to have his beloved, beautiful Elvenqueen by his side once more.
At last the long meal ended, feeling like an eternity of nostalgia and grief. Thranduil strode to his new chambers, where his elf cats meowed at him, purring and climbing on and off his lap. Even his precious pets brought back memories! However, he enjoyed their comforting purrs and rubs. If only the animals could talk! Surely they had seen what happened, considering their utter distress when he first discovered the body. But alas, even elf-cats cannot communicate in common speech, and the elves had yet to learn their special language.
Tap. Tap. Someone lightly rapped at his door. “Ada?” Legolas tentatively called.
“Come in, ion .”
The blonde elf gently opened the door and stepped inside, then sat next to his father. A cat immediately jumped into his lap. “Ada, do you need a report from me as well?” His eyes looked sadly into the cornflower blues of the Ruler of Mirkwood, the deep depth of despair causing their colour to become even more pronounced.
“Well, I did say everyone in the entire kingdom, no exceptions. I suppose I should report to myself, although everyone knows I didn’t do it. But you may just tell me where you were. I know you would never murder anyone, my ion .” As much as he hated to admit it, he liked have Legolas there with him. They both needed each other in this time of grief and utter despair. After hearing a detailed description of his day, the two sat in silence. Legolas had been near his parents’ room because his own was located just a few doors down and it was easier to pass by that way; he had been in a portion of the palace that meant he’d either have to go a very long way around to get to his chambers, or simply pass by his parents’ room, so of course he chose the latter method as usual. They absentmindedly stroked the cats while trying to further process the day’s tragic events. Hopefully someone would turn up some useful information. But until then, they would just have to wait, something the Elvenking is quite adept at.
~
Although his royal subjects were prompt with their reports, it took Thranduil, Fairion, and Legolas several days to sort through everything. After all, there were literally thousands of elves living within the halls of the Elvenking. At last they narrowed it down to 200 elves who had been in the vicinity at the right time. The Elvenking sighed. “Fairion, I shall need you to summon these elves for an intense interview. Please make out a schedule. I will be in my throne room.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
Thranduil stalked out of his new chambers down to his throne room, utterly ignoring anyone he passed, his eyes glazed over. Incredibly overwhelmed and grief-stricken, he was unsure how he would make it through the day. Just before he reached the door, a deep need for chocolate swept over him. He turned to face the frightened maid who happened to be passing by at that moment. “Would you please run down to the kitchen and have the cooks send something chocolaty to my throne room?”
“Right away, your highness!” She curtsied and trotted off, much relieved that she didn’t experience his gruesome wrath.
The kitchen staff fulfilled the order in record time and the head cook personally delivered it. Once she disappeared, the Elvenking delicately took a forkful of a dark chocolate cake, moist and gooey. “Mmm.” There was nothing like chocolate to help clear one’s mind and give him focus on the task at hand. However, even the sweet treat brought back memories of Arabesque. She too had been an avid chocoholic and at least once a week they would share a delicious dessert in the privacy of their chambers. Why did every little thing have to remind him of her? Was there no escape?
~
About 30 minutes later, the first victim arrived and timidly knocked at the door. “Come in,” the Elvenking called, sounding much testier than he intended.
A young maid stepped inside, visibly trembling. Thranduil instantly knew she had nothing to do with the murder but questioned her some anyway. This was going to be a long day, one of many, he sighed to himself as she exited.
It took about a week before the last ten elves were to appear before the Elvenking’s throne. So far every single elf obviously cared about the Elvenqueen and showed signs of distress at even being suspected of killing her. Their ruler was surprised at their open honesty; no one even denied where he or she had been and Thranduil hurt to even have to question them, even if he did seem rather frightening and vengeful to his subjects. However, they all understood his past had wreaked much havoc on his soul; with his parents dying tragically in battle along with two-thirds of their armed forces, and now his wife the victim of a brutal attack, it was little wonder to anyone that he appeared so angry.
Fairion was one of the last to come in. “Here I am, sire.”
“Fairion, why do I even bother asking you anything? You were with me practically the entire time I was away from my beloved.” The other elves wondered the same thing but soon realized their ruler remained just, as always, and could show no partiality.
“I know. But you said you would question every single elf, so you cannot exclude me.”
So Thranduil questioned him, even though both knew it was a useless endeavour. Finally, he sighed. “Do you think the killer is someone not from our own kingdom?”
“King Thranduil, you know how tight our security is here. It is impossible for anyone to infiltrate our kingdom without our knowledge. It has to be someone from our own midst, and I daresay someone quite near to us. How many more elves do you have to question?”
The Elvenking looked at his schedule. “Only one. Nulad, Legolas’ best friend. I’m glad you saved him for last; he seems to have taken my Elvenqueen’s death almost as hard as Legolas has.”
“Your majesty, someone has to be lying. Make sure you question Nulad extremely thoroughly.”
The handsome king gave his second in command a quizzical look, leading the man to explain. “I don’t trust him. He’s always seemed shifty to me, as far as elves go.”
“I trust your judgement, Fairion, although I am quite sceptical. You are dismissed,” he waved his hand to shoo him away.
A few minutes later, Nulad was summoned in. He stood tall and proud, his gorgeous flaxen locks falling perfectly into place. A favourite among the female elves and quite a lady’s man, he was the third handsomest elf in Mirkwood, following Thranduil and Legolas. The best friends enjoyed joking about the way women were drawn to them like magnets and both enjoyed all the attention quite thoroughly. They fought side by side fearlessly, watching each other’s backs and then congratulating each other on their success, although it tended to be mostly Nulad complimenting Legolas. Now, as he stood before his ruler, he looked directly into Thranduil’s eyes, bold and unafraid as he would be in a battle.
The Elvenking remembered Fairion’s warning and would not spare the man anything. Glaring at him, he demanded, “Where were you between the lunch hour and three-o’clock in the afternoon, exactly ten days ago?”
“Sire, you have received my report and know that after eating lunch, I spent some time with Legolas then walked in the vicinity of your royal chambers.”
“Yes, and you never did explain just exactly what you were doing near my room,” he hissed.
“I told you, just taking a stroll, thinking up some poetry to impress the ladies. Besides, Legolas’s room is so near to yours that it’s easier for us to pass by whenever we go there to see to his cats.”
Thranduil’s eyes blazed with fury. “You will tell me right now exactly what you did, or else I shall send you down to the dungeons.”
The elf continued to vie with his master, the only royal subject who had resisted telling everything. “Nulad, I know that you are hiding something, so you had better not deny it. You killed my wife, after all the loving kindness she bestowed upon you! How dare you do such a thing in my kingdom!”
“No!” Fear flashed in his eyes before they hardened into a stoic expression.
“Guards!” Thranduil shouted, and two elves armed with spears rushed in. “Take this sorry excuse for an elf down to the dungeons immediately! Put him on the rack until he squawks. We shall have more questioning later on, and justice will be served.” He glared at the younger man as the guards dragged him away.