A/N: Nothing in this story belongs to me except the plot. I'm soooooo sorry for not updating for so long. I wish I had an excuse but I don't. Thanks, though, for all the reviews and favorites. I'm so grateful that you all seem to love these characters as much as I do. Anyway, here's chapter 3.
One Month Later:
Artie was walking down the corridor towards the laundry room, baskets full of dirty clothes and uniforms floating behind her like ducks in a row. She was thinking of the events of the past few weeks. Tauriel had been freed from the dungeons and reunited with Legolas. Artie was now helping them plan their bonding ceremony. She was also running interference between Thranduil and the chefs, seamstresses, and decorators. He was much more interested in the ceremony and was determined to make it the event of the millenia. Unfortunately, he was also the king and he abused his powers to intimidate the staff. He threatened to hang one of the chefs by his toes in courtyard if he didn't perfect the hors d'oeuvres. Therefore, she was now handling all the face to face meetings, while Thranduil stewed over color choices and floral bouquets because apparently, "Ivory is light and airy, whereas eggshell will damn all of Middle-Earth to Hell."
"Artanis!" Thranduil yelled, panic evident on his face. All the laundry baskets behind her crashed to the floor.
"What? What happened? Is Legolas all right?"
"Yes, yes, my ungrateful spawn is fine. But, look!" He said exasperatedly, looking around the room.
"Look at what?" Artie quizzically asked.
"Exactly, we still haven't decorated the laundry room!"
"Why would we decorate the laundry room?"
"Excuse me, this castle has to be perfect for the bonding. No nook nor cranny can be left untouched."
"Thranduil, will anyone see the laundry room?" She asked calmly.
"Well, no, but still!"
"Ugh, sweetie, please, I know you want to make this ceremony the best it can possible be, but don't you think you're going a little overboard?"
"Of course I'm going overboard, but I think I'm allowed to, seeing as this might be the last soul-bonding I'll see in my lifetime." He pulled away from her.
"What are you talking about?" She walked closer to him.
"Well, what do you think! He's my son, Artie. And as much as I'm glad he's found someone. He's still leaving me! Everyone's leaving me! The dwarves hate me, Gandalf doesn't trust me, my kingdom fears me, even you wanted to leave!" He started inching closer to her.
"Yes, I wanted to leave. Emphasis on the ed. Past-tense. You honestly think I would want to leave now? After everything we've talked about? Everything we've shared? You stupid elf! I don't want to leave, I never want to leave! You're the only family I've got! Don't you get it? You're it for me! There's no one else! You-"
All of a sudden, the door swung open and a maid bustled in. Her eyes went wide in shock when she looked up and saw the Elvenking and his personal maid so close together with their chests both heaving and tension so thick, she could cut with a knife. She squeaked, though, and ran away, fearing the king's anger.
Artie spoke first. "Well, that was...awkward."
"Heh, yes, I suppose it was." Thranduil chuckled nervously.
"Look, why don't we all just calm down and forget about this?" Artie had lost her confidence and was now conceding.
"Of course, I'll see you this evening for dinner. What is on the menu?" He asked stiffly.
"Um, mushroom soup with crackers and hummus." She replied, devoid of emotion.
"That sounds adequate. I'll see you then."
"Yes, I suppose you will."
She then started for the door, but just as she was about to walk through it, she turned around and left Thranduil with words that would haunt him for the next few weeks.
"Don't worry, you're still quite eligible. I'm certain you'll be able to find a compatible match, someone who's just like you."