Gayahithwen arrived at this time, and saw that things were not at all as they should be in the throne room of Thranduil. Guards stood with bristling spears about the King. A prisoner was held down to the floor by many elves. A strange elf, unknown to her, picked himself up off the floor, where he had obviously fought with the prisoner.
She paused only a moment, but seeing that matters seemed to be in hand, she continued on, with other elves of the kitchen behind her, and they quietly laid a table for the refreshment of the king's audience.
Gayahithwen waited by the table to serve whenever the king should conclude his judgments. Thranduil noticed her and smiled, for he was kindly appreciative of his subject's consideration.
But the king had other business at hand. Thranduil ordered his guards to return to their stations, and was not as kindly to them.
"What guards I have! I see that we have grown slack since the Necromancer was cast forth from Dol Goldur. Legolas! Before dawn, I will see the host of this Woodland Realm assembled. The day shall be spent in martial contest, so that we may see if all my kingdom has grown as slack as these in my hall.
"Now, as for this traitor, pick him up. All here have seen his intent. I would know more. And I will know more! You! What have you to say for yourself?"
The prisoner seemed spent and lifeless, as much from sudden physical weakness as from utter despair and self-loathing. He said nothing. Thranduil was not pleased.
"Have you nothing to say?" cried the king. "We will loosen your tongue soon enough. Take him away, for there is malice behind this that cannot be ignored. We will question him, and none too gently, for the safety of my people is at stake. And when we are done, justice will be served. Are there any here who would say why my hand should stay and his life be spared?"
The chamber grew silent and the prisoner stared in abject misery at the stone floor.
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