A/N: Okay, I know I've been gone for a very long time and I also remember that I have other stories to finish. The thing is I got pretty much stuck. I tried to write more, but it only resulted in a major writer's block, which has kept me from writing any half-decent fanfiction for the better part of the last half a year. The fact that I'm still studying and also working on a novel isn't helping much either. I will try to return to my other stories soon enough, but for now I decided to try and write sth different than my other Thranduil/Tauriel stories. I hope you don't mind :)
What about this story is different, you may ask? I decided to play a little trick and do a switch, which impacted the canon a lot, to be perfectly honest. I will not tell you more though, because it'll spoil all the fun. You will know some of my plans soon enough anyway. The chapters will be a bit shorter than in my other stories, more or less like this one.
If you like it, please remember to favourite/review!
Enjoy!
ALL THE LITTLE LIGHTS
"We're born with millions
Of little lights shining in the dark
And they show us the way
One lights up, every time you feel love in your heart
One dies when it moves away"
-Passenger, "All the Little Lights"
PART 1
Thranduil
Thranduil is bored.
Once upon a time, when he was still a child, he would have been excited beyond measure for the arrival of the Sindar elves, but, as it is, he is simply trying his best not to seem too unimpressed with the leisurely marching procession of his kin, though it isn't by any means an easy task. Even standing still proves to be difficult, since the elves located right behind him insists on pushing him forward every now and again, which in turn makes him stumble gracelessly into his father. Lord Oropher, who is normally mild-tempered and patient to a fault, bears a look of annoyance on his face the likes of which are rarely seen and Thranduil knows that if he doesn't stop with this ludicrous behaviour, he will be lectured about it at length later on at home.
He grimaces when someone's elbow connects rather painfully with his lower back, but he manages to hold still and thus avoids yet another reproaching look from his father. His thoughts drift to the little excursion he and his friend have been planning for a while and wonders if they will be able to leave Amon Lanc the following morn as they wanted. The delay is quite possible due to the arrival of the lords and the ladies from Lindon, which sours his already spoiled mood even further.
He looks across the road in search of his closest friend and comrade, Elhael. They grew up together and since Thranduil has no sibling, he thinks of Elhael as a brother he always wanted to have. The ellon in question is standing off to the left and in the back with his parents and two younger sisters. Their golden hair is quite easy to spot in the crowd consisting of mostly Silvan elves, whose hair is brown more often than not.
Elhael must have been looking for him as well, because their eyes meet almost at once. Thranduil feels his stomach drop a little in disappointment, when his friend lightly shakes his head and sighs, signalling to him the bad news. It is all he needs to know. They will indeed have to stay in the city for a bit longer before embarking on their journey up North.
Now he is not only bored, but irked as well, but there is naught he can do about it, no matter how much he wants to. It is his obligation to welcome the new lord of Greenwood, as well as his family and court, though the responsibility is tedious at best.
A sigh escapes his lips as he glances once again at the marching Sindar, since he has nothing better to do anyway.
It is in this very moment that he sees her.
The soft light of the slowly setting sun makes her red hair look like an inferno. Her green eyes shine with amazement as she tries in vain to take all of her surroundings in at once and the radiant smile that adorns her fair face is enough to make his breath catch in his throat. There is a circlet of mithril placed upon her brow, which indicates her station as the daughter of Lord Silevon, but he pays little attention to it and what it implies as his hungry gaze follows the slender slope of her pale neck down to her collarbones, visible still in the modest neckline of her luminous light green dress. There is a small mithril pendant resting at the hollow of her throat, though Thranduil can't decipher what it is.
He is mesmerized by her as he has never been before by anything or anyone. There is nothing he can do, but look at the vision of beauty and perfection as she rides past him on her young mare, though he longs for her to turn her head just a friction and bless him with a simple look, if not one of those enchanting smiles of hers.
She doesn't do any of those things though. Her gaze never falls upon him and, soon enough, she disappears from his line of sight. He is left there in a state of shock, unable to move or even think. Even though he has heard about her beauty, he thought the stories were largely exaggerated and thus he was certainly not prepared to behold it. He knows that he is smitten with her in an instant, but the fact that she is the only child of his lord and future king makes him realize bitterly that he doesn't stand a chance. Although he too is Sindar, as were all his ancestors before him, he is also just a young warrior of no station whatsoever. His father is a lord in name only, though he likes to boast about his title from time to time. Thranduil is not stupid. He knows that no matter what he does, she will be forever out of his reach. This thought shakes him out of his stupor. He follows his parents home in silence and remains quiet for the reminder of the eve, keeping mostly to himself as he ponders over his misfortune.
In the end he decides to forget about her. Nothing good can come out of his infatuation with her anyway.
-o-o-o-
It doesn't take him a lot of time to realize that getting the elleth out of his mind is easier said than done. He catches himself thinking about her during the most unfortunate of times and even suffers an injury because of his inattention when Elhael's sword grazes his forearm during practice a month or so after his encounter with the fair lady.
His inability to forget her annoys him to no end, but at the same time he cannot force himself to do so. He is suspended in limbo, right between admiration and malice, and he thinks bitterly that escape is simply futile at this point.
He comes up with an excuse to postpone the journey up North and Elhael, who suspects something, but stays quiet, agrees to go in a few months' time without complaint, though it is obvious that he is not happy about it. Not that Thranduil actually cares all that much.
The image of her smile is too vivid in his mind to let him think straight anyway.
-o-o-o-
"I was promoted," his father announces during dinner one day, almost half a year after Lord Silevon arrived in Amon Lanc and was crowned the King of the Woodland Realm.
His mother looks up from her plate and gives her husband a look of mild surprise.
"Is that so?" She inquires with interest. At this point Thranduil is also listening, his tepid vegetable soup long forgotten. "Tell us then."
"I will be the Captain of the King's Guard." The smile that lightens up Oropher's face after this proclamation is honest and bright, something that doesn't grace his features often enough.
Thranduil is struck speechless, just like his mother. The two of them look at his father as if he has gone mad, but he doesn't seem bother by it at all, since his smile doesn't weaver and all but turns into a true grin.
"Sweet Eru, what wonderful news!" His mother cries out at last. "I have always known that someone would notice your potential, melleth! You worried about your future in vain, I told you!"
"It's wonderful news indeed," his father says a moment later. "I'm afraid we will have to leave the comforts of our lovely house behind as a result, though I do hope that our quarters in the palace will hopefully be to your liking."
Even though his mother looks momentarily horrified by the possibility, Thranduil knows she will adapt quickly. He has heard her complain about their house often enough to know she would love to have a bigger garden and a proper room to weave in peace. She will surely have all of this and more in the palace, which will abide for the fond memories of their cottage soon enough.
He knows he should be happy as well. It's an opportunity for him as well – to train with the palace guard and hone his skills to perfection. At the same time he wants to stay where he is, because he knows that his attraction to the young princess will only continue to grow if they start to live in such close proximity. Meeting her in the corridors, during feasts, or on the training grounds will be just a matter of time, which makes him uneasy to say the least.
Truth be told, it's a disaster in the making and he already knows the consequences will be dire.
"What do you make of it, my son?"
His father's question forces him back into the realm of reality. He looks at the man he admires so much for his strength, wisdom, and loyalty, and he cannot bring himself to say what lies heavily on his heart, because he knows that his father will move Arda itself to make him happy, even at the cost of his own happiness. He won't sacrifice his father's dream for his own comfort.
"Congratulations, ada," he says in response with false cheer and a smile plastered like a mask across his face. He is a good actor, maybe even too good. At any rate, his parents are too overjoyed to notice anything amiss. They spent the next few hours talking about the future, completely oblivious to the turmoil inside Thranduil's soul.
-o-o-o-
True to his prediction, he sees her at least once every single week after they come to live in the palace.
His father is busy with his new duties, which demand much of his time and leave him exhausted by the end of each day. His mother divides her time between weaving, gardening, and socializing. She has made so many friends in the palace that their quarters are constantly buzzing with conversations and laughter, since her guests seem to come in at every hour of the day.
For his part, Thranduil feels strangely estranged from their joy. His training with the palace guard keeps him busy throughout mornings and early afternoons three to five days each week, but otherwise he is free to do as he pleases and he finds himself with more time on his hands than he would have liked.
Elhael, who has decided to follow in his father's footsteps and become a scholar, spends his days in the vast library, learning all there is to know and helping the librarian. He has informed Thranduil shortly after they have postponed their journey for yet another few months that being a warrior was never truly his dream, which he accepted with a thoughtful nod of his head. To be honest, he has known it all along. As a result of Elhael's decision, he visits the library often to talk with his friend, but mostly he simply reads every book that he can get his hands on.
He feels a little bit less lonely when he is doing something.
The tales of battles long past, the beautiful poems written by authors of different races, and the occasional novel that pass through his fingers make him forget about the image that haunts him still.
Seeing her on a regular basis is both a curse and a blessing. When his eyes land on her, he is reminded of everything he will never have. Yet, at the same time, he is tempted to try and catch her if she lets him. This internal conflict tears him apart bit by bit and yet he cannot confess his confounding feelings to anyone for fear of ridicule and laughter.
"I will suffer in silence until it goes away," he decides one day in the middle of December as he beholds her in all her glory, moving gracefully only one level above him in a glimmering silver gown. She looks particularly beautiful that day and he cannot bring himself to move or look away just yet, even though he normally would have just stolen one glance before leaving her be.
She stops in her tracks and looks down suddenly as if sensing his presence. Either he doesn't move fast enough or her reflexes are sharper than his. Whichever it is, he will never know, but it results in their eyes locking for the very first time. A shiver goes down his spine as he savours this unexpected gift. Her eyes grow wider and her cheeks turn a faint shade of pink, which is blatantly visible against her fair skin, even from a distance. They stay like this for a few long second before her lips quirk into a soft smile. She pays little attention to the flabbergasted group of court ladies, who are probably wondering what has gotten into her all of the sudden, since they apparently can't spot him as easily as the princess.
In a move that is both tentative and daring, he raises his left hand and waves to her in a greeting long overdue. She responds with a small wave of her own before giving him another smile. Then she turns back to the ladies of the court and engages them in small talk. Her eyes sought his two more times before she is gone, but it's already more than he could ever ask for.
As a result, his mood is better than it has been in years for the rest of the week.
A/N2: Silevon means "shining white male" and Elhael means "wise elf" in Elvish, in case you were wondering :) Both of those characters deserved nice names, since they will play a major part in this story. No, I won't tell you anything else.
Next chapter should be up soon. Probably before the end of the week ;)