TRIALS OF A KING by Erulisse (one L)
Mar. 28th, 2019 12:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
erulissedances posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memB2MeM Prompt, Card and Number:B15 Pollen (32-Yellow), Rituals and Traditions (35-Indigo), Purple Prose (36-Purple), Lingerie (136-NSFW & Kink)
Format: Drabble
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Thranduil
Creator’s Notes (optional): Sometimes imagination can be a saving grace in a tremendously boring situation. Here, Thranduil finds himself stuck in a situation that he, as King, can’t get out of, except through his imagination.
Summary:A trade delegation has proposals, and if they would actually come to the point, Thranduil would probably be more amenable to the suggestions being made.
TRIALS OF A KING
Thranduil was bored. After more than a mark of listening to posturing, empty praise and hollow platitudes, he imagined the corpulent trader wearing a set of lace-trimmed lingerie for the Lithe bonfire. He turned his laugh into a cough which he quickly hid behind his hand.
“My apologies, your Highness, are you ill? Is it even possible for an elf to be ill?” the flustered trader asked. It was obvious the cough had derailed his prepared speech, for which Thranduil was silently grateful.
“No, it’s the spring pollen. Please continue telling me the fascinating details of your proposed trade agreement.”
Format: Drabble
Genre: Gen
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Thranduil
Creator’s Notes (optional): Sometimes imagination can be a saving grace in a tremendously boring situation. Here, Thranduil finds himself stuck in a situation that he, as King, can’t get out of, except through his imagination.
Summary:A trade delegation has proposals, and if they would actually come to the point, Thranduil would probably be more amenable to the suggestions being made.
TRIALS OF A KING
Thranduil was bored. After more than a mark of listening to posturing, empty praise and hollow platitudes, he imagined the corpulent trader wearing a set of lace-trimmed lingerie for the Lithe bonfire. He turned his laugh into a cough which he quickly hid behind his hand.
“My apologies, your Highness, are you ill? Is it even possible for an elf to be ill?” the flustered trader asked. It was obvious the cough had derailed his prepared speech, for which Thranduil was silently grateful.
“No, it’s the spring pollen. Please continue telling me the fascinating details of your proposed trade agreement.”
