There was a strange look in Tauriel's eyes when she came into his throne room that evening, curiosity hiding some other emotions as she looked at him. "There is a visitor here to see you, my lord," she said simply, not bothering to further elaborate and instead waiting for a sign that Thranduil did indeed wish to hear more of what she had to say. All it took for her to continue was a rather bored wave of the Elvenking's hand. "He is a Man of Laketown, arriving here no longer than half an hour ago and reportedly here on the Master's behalf," Tauriel continued, her shifting on her feet giving away her emotions.

"Oh?" Despite the apparently interested tone the word took, it was plain to see that this tidbit of possible change from his daily routine caught absolutely none of Thranduil's attention. "Does he give a reason for his coming? Or is it simply because the Master is a lazy bigot who does not desire to leave his place of so-called luxury to face me himself with his complaints?"

His captain of the guard cleared her throat. "This Man offered no such explanation, my lord. He carries with him a letter addressed to you from the Master, however, and he appears to be greatly troubled by having to enter your lands without your permission. No doubt he has heard tell of the many tales told in your name, my lord," Tauriel added, inclining her head slightly in respect to him.

Thranduil sighed internally before he began to sit up on his throne. "Bring him in, Tauriel," he said, once he had sat up completely. With a quick nod, Tauriel turned on her heel to leave the room, before returning shortly afterward with the Man behind her. "Does the Master of Laketown find me to be so unimportant that he refuses to meet with me himself?"

It was amusing when it seemed the Man wasn't sure how to take Thranduil's statement, even if it appeared that he agreed with the Elvenking. "I was not told of his intentions, my king. I only know that I was told to bring this message to you and prepare for a very lengthy stay in Mirkwood," the Man said, dropping to one knee in front of Thranduil's throne as he held out a rolled up piece of parchment, presumably the Master's letter.

Something about the Man nagged at Thranduil as he stood from his throne and descended the staircase. "I would have you walk with me," the Elvenking said after a moment of observing the Man, taking the letter from the stranger as he did. "I understand that it is a far journey from Laketown, though perhaps not as far as it may well seem. None the less, I shall offer you my hospitality, if only as gratitude for doing what the Master himself does not see fit to do," Thranduil continued, rolling open the letter without looking at it and choosing instead to watch the Man follow him out of the corner of his eye. He gave Tauriel a nod to where she was waiting, silently indicating that she follow them.

"I offer you my most sincere thanks, my lord," the Man said, following Thranduil with his head still bowed slightly and at least two steps behind to indicate his inferior status to the Elvenking. Normally such a gesture would leave the king unruffled but with this Man it seemed entirely unnatural, as if the action was not his default gesture when dealing with another. Thranduil silently kept that as a note in his mind as the three of them continued down the grand halls towards the Elvenking's study. "I must say, however, that I am unworthy of such a thing as the hospitality of the Elvenking of Mirkwood," the Man added just as they were reaching Thranduil's study.

Upong reaching their desired destination, Thranduil gave Tauriel a look, to which she nodded, signalling for her to stay outside of her king's study. Silently, she assumed her post, holding her feet apart and her hands behind her back. This having been done, Thranduil continued inside his study, closing the door for privacy once he and the Man were both inside. "Now, what matters are of such importance that it involves ordering one of his men to prepare for an extended stay in my kingdom? I offer no such offense to you," Thranduil added offhandedly to the Man awkwardly shifting from foot to foot in his study as he turned his attention to the letter in his hands.

My most honorable king Thranduil,

In return for the services you have offered the people of Laketown in their most desperate times of need - here Thranduil suppressed a scoff as the Master had no doubt hoarded away the gold sent to Laketown in order for them to continue their trade for the most basic of life's necessities - I send you this most humble of gifts. This is one of my servants who I believe will benefit from a short stay in your care. He is not perhaps the most obedient at his best, but I firmly believe that he will learn under the firm grip of your mastery. Should he prove uncooperative, I have found that a whip or hot iron is a good instrument to remind him of his place. - Thranduil turned his eyes back up to the Man briefly, no doubt in wonder of how many times this Man had spoken out against the Master and been punished for it - Still, it is best to remember that I offer him to you freely as a gift as a gesture of thanks from the people of Laketown, and not least of all myself.

Your most humble servant,

The Master of Laketown

Thranduil forced himself to repress a shudder as he crumpled the letter in his hands slightly before forcing himself to toss it carelessly on his desk. He clenched his hands into fists briefly, only moments before he spotted a container of wine thankfully sitting on a table. Beside the container sat two goblets, which Thranduil was eternally grateful. He did not know exactly how his servants had known that he would bring the Man to his study, but he was glad that they had ways of communicating his needs without him knowing.

"If I am not out of line in my asking," the Man began rather hesitantly, drawing Thranduil's attention back to him. "What exactly was the Master's reason for writing and sending the letter now sitting on your desk?" Thranduil wasn't exactly sure if the unspoken part of the Man's question which he then ordered me to bring while preparing to stay here or which caused such a reaction from you. Either way, Thranduil would have applauded the Man for voicing either one of his thoughts.

In lieu of providing an acknowledgement to the Man's question, which Thranduil later considered was fairly rude, the Elvenking moved straight to the unopened container of wine, forcing it open with considerable aggression before moving back to where he had stood previously with the container of wine and the two goblets in his other hand. "It seems," Thranduil began, forcing his voice to remain neutral, "that the Master has seen fit to gift you to me as my servant to do with as I please." As he finished speaking, Thranduil placed the container of wine and goblets down rather forcefully onto his desk.

Thranduil had to give the Man credit - he didn't flinch, not when the container made a rather worrisome noise with the force Thranduil used to put it down, nor when he discovered he now essentially belonged to the elf in front of him and whose study he was currently standing in. "Was there anything of a more pressing nature that the Master saw fit to put in his letter, my king?"

"No," Thranduil said, giving the letter a dirty look, his anger simmering down somewhat as he took time to pull himself back together. Instead, he turned his eye back to the Man. It was with a curious eye that the Elvenking looked over the Man before him, taking a moment to study this stranger. It was a bit bizarre, this whole affair, beginning, no doubt, with Thranduil's choice to bring the Man to his study in the interests of privacy. Thranduil knew he shouldn't become attached to a Man, whose life span was nothing was nothing compared to the eternity of an elf's life span. And yet…

And yet something about this Man drew Thranduil to him, intriguing the elf as he watched the way this Man held himself and behaved behind his manners.

"What is your name?"

Obviously, the Man had not been expecting to be asked this question, as his reaction to it was rather slow. Thranduil supposed he shouldn't really take offense when the Man looked as if he was contemplating the king's question. "If I may, why do you ask?"

Thranduil inclined his head slightly to the Man, indicating that it was not out of the Man's place to ask the elf such a thing. "If you are worried that I will punish you by mocking you with your own name, I assure you I do not stoop to such a level. Nor do I resort to base physical torture," he added, not without disgust as he gestured widely to the letter from the Master of Laketown sitting, still open, on his desk. "It often escapes me how Men seem to take it upon themselves to torture their fellow kin for petty little things."

It appeared that the Man was not used to being treated as an equal, more as an inferior if his reaction to Thranduil's statements gave the king any indication. "Would you take it as an offense if I were to keep my name to myself, my lord?" Thranduil shook his head, indicating the negative, as if a little thing like privacy could offend him. "I have learned in my time that a name is more powerful than an average man tends to believe."

"You have learned well then," Thranduil commented, pouring wine into two goblets. "If not by your name, what may I call you?"

The Man considered this for several moments, Thranduil waiting until he'd made a decision to hold one of the goblets full of wine out to his new servant. "Back in Laketown, the people called me Dragonslayer, if only as a mockery."

Thranduil looked at the Man curiously, his eyebrows furrowed the tiniest bit. "Why would they give you such a title in mockery? To slay a dragon is not feat to be scoffed at," he said as his servant - Dragonslayer - took the goblet of wine from him.

Dragonslayer looked down into the wine, shaking his head just the tiniest bit. "Because I am the man whom they sent to kill a dragon to prove my worth and failed," he explained simply, bringing the goblet to his lips in order to avoid further discussion on that topic. "If that name should displease you, my lord, it should be known that my previous occupation was as a bargeman," Dragonslayer said after a long sip of wine, glancing up at Thranduil before taking another long drink.

"Very well then," Thranduil said, once the silence that stretched on between them seemed to go on for too long. "You shall be known as Dragonslayer here, and only Bargeman if you should so desire. However, you should know that none of my people treat a title such as Dragonslayer with mockery. We elves have faced the wrath of dragons before, so we do not devalue any person who has the bravery and courage to face one on his lonesome."

His new servant dipped his head low, acknowledging Thranduil's words. "I will do well to remember that, my lord. As it is, the title remains a mockery in my recent memory. No doubt more than one person was happy to hear that I have been sent to work among the elves as the Master's gift to you," Dragonslayer said, fingering the goblet while he looked into the liquid with sad eyes.

"Have you no one there to miss you, Dragonslayer?" Thranduil looked at Dragonslayer again, not quite understanding how it could be that this Man could have no one left in the world, let alone in his own home. It may appear as though Thranduil was heartless and uncaring, but that did not speak to his ability to observe things. He knew it was uncommon for a person such as the Man before him to lack attachments of any kind.

"If I do not offend you, once again, my lord, I would prefer to keep my sorrows to myself." Dragonslayer dipped his head again, the action seeming to have been ingrained as the proper action when his submission needed to be shown.

Thranduil, however, was not pleased with this action, though he took no offense from Dragonslayer's decision. "I respect that a person has things which they wish to keep to themselves. However, I do not respect the way in which it appears you have been treated previously, by the Master of Laketown and by your fellow Men in that town. From this point on," he continued, making a very rash decision indeed. "You are under my protection. Should the Master find some issue with this declaration, he is free to take his complaints to me directly." As he spoke, Thranduil turned to face the fire crackling in his chambers.

Out of the corner of his eye, the elf watched as Dragonslayer looked at Thranduil with complete and utter surprise, only to bring his head back down once he noticed that the Elvenking was turning back to him. "I do not know how to thank you, my lord, or even if it is in my capacity to repay you for such an act," Dragonslayer said, his eyes focused on his goblet of wine.

"Your payment can begin when you look me in the eye as you speak," Thranduil replied, almost too quickly for his own tastes. Still surprised, Dragonslayer slowly brought his head up so that his eyes could meet Thranduil's, granting the Elvenking with the sight of a gorgeous, earthy brown to contrast the king's own ice blue. "Very well." Thranduil startled both of them when he spoke, his voice coming out much softer than he had considered it would. "You are dismissed for the night. Tauriel will show you to your quarters. Should they be dissatisfying in any way, inform me in the morning."

Dragonslayer's surprise seemed as if it was going to become a common thing as he nodded again to Thranduil. "Thank you, my lord," he said quietly, just before he slipped out of the door to Thranduil's study.

It was only after Dragonslayer had left that Thranduil put a name to the thing that had drawn the elf to the new servant. It was nobility.

This revelation left Thranduil reeling slightly, but not off-balance enough that he was unable to put pen to paper in order to inform the Master of Laketown that the man "gifted" to him as a servant was now under his protection and that no harm would come to him, if Thranduil were able to stop it from occurring.

If he were not able to stop it, Thranduil had no doubt that he would unleash his full wrath upon those who saw fit to treat this Man with so much nobility in his stance, in his behavior, in his very blood as anything less than an equal. Should Thranduil discover who it was that had decided that a mighty title such as Dragonslayer be a mockery for a failure, whether it be some lowly common person or the Master of Laketown himself, the elf again had no doubt that they would be the first victim to his wrath.