Thranduil woke up in a most wonderful way. Despite the fact that his right arm had fallen asleep and was tingling in a rather unpleasant manner, and that the blankets did not quite cover his toes, things were pretty must better than he could ever imagine them being. The funny thing was how things could go from the best moment of your life to the worst moment in your life in no time at all.
“Thranduil?”
His head swirved, looking away from the dark-haired elleth that was cuddled next to him and to the doorway, where only a curtain hanged in the natural passageway of this alcove of the cave to give the occupant some privacy. Occupants, at the moment actually. Had it been his fault that Avisiel had a nightmare, and that he had heard it and come to comfort here, and had ended up spending the night? Not at all. Was it his fault not to remove himself back to his room before the rest of the household woke and found him here? Well, yes, very much his fault he decided as he wiggled his way out from under his sleeping companion, trying to smooth back his hair and not wake Avisiel.
His hope was that he could make excuse to his father he had merely come to wake her. If only he could get out of the bed. But as he dislodged his arm, Avisiel sleepily awoke, smiling up at him. Her arms wrapped around his stronger one, closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against him shoulder. She did not, therefore, see when the curtain was pulled back by Oropher, nor the glare he gave to his flush-faced son.
As soon as the curtain fell back in place, Thranduil swiftly moved away, set on protecting their mutual honor. Kissing Avisiel chastely on the cheek, he threw back the covers and bounded to the doorway. Ducking around the curtain, he found his father still outside the door, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I can explain everything,” Thranduil whispered in a very calm and diplomatic tone. Oropher gave a nod, and Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief. “First, nothing happened. Nothing that shouldn’t have happened, happened, I mean,” he said hurriedly. “That is, nothing that would anger you. We touched, yes, but nothing improper, or at least—“ Groaning to himself, and at the look of confusion that was deepening on his father’s face, he said, “I came to comfort her from a nightmare, and I did not want to leave her alone until morning. That is all.”
Oropher’s eyes searched Thranduil’s face for something before he asked, “You did not bind to her.”
“Good gracious, no!” he exclaimed, and then, mortified at his own outburst and denial of his feelings, quickly added, “Not that I... do not want to.”
Stepping forward, Oropher reached up and placed a hand upon Thranduil’s shoulder. “I have always been proud of you, ion-nin. You know that?”
“Yes, Adar,” he said with a nod.
“Most of all, your honestly. You have had trouble articulating the truth sometimes, but you have always been honest. To that end, you are the best son a father could ever hope to have. It would be a great disservice to you if I were not to teach you to be the best husband an elleth could ever have.”
“Well, I have learned a lot from you,” Thranduil answered. “Honestly.”
Oropher smiled and squeezed Thranduil’s shoulder. “You have, but there are some things which I have put off, thinking you too young. You are well beyond your majority, old enough that most your age would not have stayed themselves as you have. Through your actions, you have shown you are not only of an age to marry, but of a mind to as well.”
“Thank you, sir,” he answered humbly. He knew his father had always been proud of him, but it had never been elaborated upon in such a manner. Besides loving his father and liking him without complaint, he respected him greatly. Such words from one he so admired would never be forgotten, and neither would he forget what was spoken of next.
“You need to learn to fight.”
“What?”
“With a sword, with bow. You will need to be armed. Once you marry, the protection of your family will be your greatest concern,” Oropher said gravely. “I wish I had taken the time to teach you myself, but as a lad you had no reason to carry one like you Noldorin friends did. We are in a different world now.”
Thranduil grimaced. “Adar, I do not want to carry a sword.”
“Then I cannot give my consent,” he said simply. “As guardian to Avisiel, I will not permit you to court her any longer.”
“But look what it did to my friends,” pleaded Thranduil. “I do not want to kill, I do not want to end up like that.”
“I am not asking you to be like them. I am asking you to remember all of our kindred, all those who perished on our ships. All those who could not protect themselves, their wives, their children, as they were slaughtered and cast into the sea. I do not want that to be your fate,” he said in a stern, yet gentle tone. “I love you too much for that. I am rather fond of Avisiel, too,” he admitted with a smile. “It is for the best, if you love her. Ultimately I cannot stop you, but please, consider what I have said.” Oropher began to walk down the hall when Thranduil halted him.
“Will you teach me?” he called out.
Oropher turned around. “Actually, I have someone else in mind for the task, if he will agree to it.” Walking back, he added, “I should like to have you spend a little more of your free time in more academic pursuits as well. Think about what you will do with yourself, what occupation you plan to have.”
Thranduil shrugged. “I thought I would just cross over the sea with her, back to Valinor.”
Considering this, Oropher slowly nodded. “That may work, but you will still need to decide what to do once you are there. You may wish to speak with her about that – we still do not know anything about her, her family, or even where she comes from. Unless she has spoken to you.”
“No, she has not said anything, and I do not wish to press the matter. As for an occupation, I shall speak with Erestor. He may have some suggestion for me,” mused Thranduil.
“A wise choice. You... you may wish to seek his advice on... relations with an elleth as well,” suggested Oropher, he now becoming the slightly bashful one.
“Oh, I know all about that already,” Thranduil replied. When his father’s brow rose up, he added quickly, “Yet, not as much as I could know.”
- - -
“When you angle the bow, the higher your angle, the greater the arc. The greater the arc, the further it flies.” The elf that had been training him suddenly stepped forward and tilted the tip of Thranduil’s arrow down slightly. “You do not ever want to have an arc that close to a ninety-degree angle, unless you want the wind to catch it so that your enemy doesn’t have to shoot you himself.”
“Sorry,” apologized Thranduil, lowering the bow and rubbing his shoulder. “This is a lot tougher than you make it look, Thaladir,” he said, grabbing his own wrist and stretching his arm behind him, wincing. “Are the longer ones any easier?”
Thaladir shook his head negatively. “I would not imagine giving you one of those for another few weeks at least,” he promised, upon seeing the pained look on Thranduil’s face. “Let us see if you can manage to his the target a few times more before lunch,” he suggested.
Thranduil nodded and raised his weapon up once more. Squinting to make sure he had focused on the bulls eye, he drew an arrow from his back and in one fluid motion had drawn it back against the taut string. So far, so good, at least his elven grace allowed him to look like an archer.
*Thwack!*
Even if he could not shoot like an archer.
“Oh... damn...” was all Thranduil could manage as he bowed his head. Thaladir had raised a hand to cover his mouth in shock and looked down to where Thranduil had crouched down in humiliation as other archers began to look over to his mark.
Grabbing a long pole that had a red flag flying from it, Thaladir raised it up and shouted for the others to stop. Already, one of the Captains on the field had run toward the spot that Thaladir was calmly approaching, a yellow flag fluttering from his pole. Peering through the fingers that covered his face, Thranduil stood back up with a sigh and brushed himself off as the Captain and the Lieutenant walked back to his mark.
”Your kill, m’lord,” jested the Captain, holding out the arrow to Thranduil. With a wry smile, Thranduil took hold of the shaft. “Not bad, from the distance. Most of my archers could not have hit it.”
“I swear, it was not my target,” apologized Thranduil.
“Sometimes in battle, what matters is that you just hit the enemy, not necessarily the one you were aiming for.”
- - -
The lesson had been cut short after that, due mostly to the fact that Thranduil was merely too embarrassed to continue after making his ‘kill’, and that he wanted to bury the poor, unfortunate squirrel away from the field where he could not be seen by the others before heading to lunch. Thaladir had been patient with him, perhaps even amused by his actions, but it was difficult to tell, for he seemed to have a calm that surpassed even Erestor’s stoic manner.
“Can I ask you a question of a personal nature?” queried Thranduil as he walked with Thaladir to Erestor’s study after lunch. Twice a week they, with three others similar in age to them, met with the wise elf for discussions of history and philosophy, and other things a young, well-bred elf nearing or just past his majority should consider and contemplate. The conversations were quite casual in topic, but the manner in which the sessions were conducted were not. Even on days when the pair started on the training fields, they were expected to be properly dressed and well groomed – though it was never said, it was to be expected, and it did confuse Thranduil slightly as to why they all needed to present themselves in such a way for a few hours of tea and conversation which sometimes turned to such things as the types of grasses that grew or the activities planned for a particular festival. It seemed to him they would all be much more comfortable in a simple pair of leggings and a tunic.
Thaladir had been pondering the question already asked for a short time before answering, “It would be rude not to answer you, but I feel personal questions tend to bring up things that are rather private and should be left unsaid.”
“Oh. I am very sorry then to have even asked,” said Thranduil. “I only wanted to know why it was that you leave your entire uniform on out in the practice fields when even the Captain is casually dressed.” He glanced sideways at Thaladir, hoping his sly attempt at asking had not offended him. Expecting to have received some polite answer explaining it was not his business to know such a thing, it surprised him to be given such a detailed reply.
“When I am on the field, whether or not anyone else takes their job seriously, I myself do. I am expected to present myself in a particular way. Uniforms would not even be required if they were not meant to be worn. Even those who remove only a single article of the uniform are showing, even if they do not mean to, that they do not have pride in their position. And, it is unseemly,” he finished.
“Unseemly?” questioned Thranduil, having not heard the word before.
Thaladir halted them as they came closer to Erestor’s study. “Improper. Would it be proper for Master Erestor to attend a meeting of the council in his boots and leggings and nothing else?”
“Well, no, I should think not,” answered Thranduil.
“Precisely. And would a king greet visitors in his hall wearing a shirt and trousers?”
“I should hope not,” he said, laughing at the image that had been painted in his mind.
“We are each of us our own king,” said Thaladir. “We are the ones who choose how we are presented. If we slouch in our throne, or if we walk down the street, dignified with head held high. If we take our lunch with our hands, or if we eat civilly and converse politely with others at the table. If we court an elleth by kissing her openly in the courtyard for all to see, or if we are discreet and woo her in the most appropriate manner.” Thranduil blushed slightly as Thaladir continued. “Contrary to popular belief there is only one who makes the majority of our decisions. How to act, how to look, how to dress, how to speak, how to live. And thus,” he concluded, “I shall continue to make the decisions in a manner fit for a king, as it were.”
Thranduil wondered if anyone noticed how much quieter he shut the door when he entered, and how much straighter he sat during the discussion that day. When they adjourned for the day and Thaladir gave him a nod and a smile, he did the same, and walked back to his home with his head held high.
