It all started when the three elves came across the personal supply of vintage wine kept in Oropher's oak cabinet in the study. The three elves specifically being Lórelion, the eldest son of King Oropher; Thranduil, the second-born; and Tindomel, daughter and youngest child of the king, although nearly an adult herself. They had left after dinner for Tindomel's room, where they spent some time talking and reminiscing together about the day while relaxing in the large armchairs. Eventually they had decided to create fun for themselves in the bountiful hours before bedtime, and, slipping out of the chamber in their nightclothes, grinned as they ran all the way to the staircase. With bright eyes they padded down the stairs, laughing in anticipation of the unplanned caper that was about to unfold. The elves tried to keep quiet to avoid being discovered, but it was with poorly hushed voices that they told each other off whenever one laughed too loudly.
As the trio came to the bottom of the staircase they turned left into an arched corridor leading to the ground floor rooms. On their right appeared the entrance to the dining hall, but they ran past and continued down the carpeted corridor, their dressing gowns billowing behind them. They didn't yet know what they were going to do, and so they looked around with wide eyes at their surroundings, hoping for inspiration.
Lórelion was at the front of the party. He was partially leading the way, although he was just as clueless about what to do as the others were, and they were all equally keen to find something of interest. He stopped outside a door open slightly ajar, which happened to belong to the extensive palace kitchens. After looking through the crack he turned back to his siblings with a smile.
"What about the kitchens?"
Tindomel peered over his shoulder. "I don't think so; there are probably people in there yet."
"Well then, let's keep looking." He turned and ran stealthily further on. The other two laughed at him and followed closely behind.
Thranduil noticed the library, marked by double oak doors, which was less likely to be occupied at this time of night. "Wait," he called, and stopped in front of it. "We could look in here." He beckoned the others over with his hand. His brother and sister noted the suggestion and took a few steps his way. Thranduil turned the handle of one door slowly and pushed it open enough to see inside. It looked promising at first; the huge room was dimly lit and very quiet, and could easily turn out to be a good setting for a game of hide-and-seek or fort-building, or any other possibility they thought of. He pushed it open a little further, but then an elder elf was revealed sitting at one of the tables on the far side, accompanied by a lantern to illuminate his reading. Thranduil closed the door quickly.
"We can't go in there." Lórelion looked at his brother and voiced their shared thought.
However, this had not dampened their spirits in the slightest, and the three of them carried on. There was bound to be a lot of rooms in the extensive palace in which they could have fun.
Tindomel gave a gasp and darted forward. "Adar's study!" she cried at the familiar sight of the entrance to his workplace, which unusually had been left open. The youngest elf barely took the time to glance around and meet the eyes of her brothers before slipping through the doorway. Thranduil and Lórelion brushed through the entrance after her and stopped inside the room.
"It's very dark in here, I'll get the matches!" said the eldest.
It was not a room they went in often, as it usually did not have anything of great interest, or else was occupied by their father who would work busily without want of interruption. However, in their state of heightened glee and the beckoning emptiness inside, it now held a new array of possibilities. The three elves scattered themselves eagerly in search of something to do.
Lórelion bent over a large chest at the back of the room and opened it. Inside it he saw a pile of parchments, but he soon recognised them to be accounts and disappointedly closed the lid to carry on searching.
Soon afterwards Tindomel gave a loud chuckle. "Look what I found here!" The other two stopped and looked up. She reached down into another chest. As Thranduil stepped nearer to see the finding, she lifted up what looked like a clumsily-depicted mule, which was embroidered onto a cushion resting amongst other bits of haberdashery.
"Do you remember this?" she cried. "I made it for Adar's birthday years ago. I think it was supposed to be a horse!" Tindomel inspected it with amusement.
"Oh yes, I remember. I would never be able to tell from looking at it!" Thranduil jested.
"It's lucky I still have an idea, then! I did not know he kept it in here." The princess held the cushion for a moment longer and then placed it fondly back in the chest, and shut the lid.
Lórelion, meanwhile, had walked over to the king's writing desk and noticed a pile of blank parchment in an ornate tray. He picked up a quill from the ink pot. "Shall we play a game?" he asked.
"Yes, go on!" called his sister.
"How about the game where one of us writes a story, and the first letters of each word spell a message?"
"I haven't played that in ages!" called Thranduil. "Yes, let's play it. You can think of the message. Make it about Tindomel!"
Tindomel grinned as she moved towards the desk and leaned forward to place her elbow on it. Lórelion sat down in the chair and took up the writing, while Thranduil rested against the back of the chair to look over his shoulder.
Their mission for merriment was well underway by this point. They played the writing game for a few minutes, but then Lórelion noticed something intriguing on the other side of the room.
"I wonder what Adar keeps in that cabinet over there?" he motioned to a fine oak cupboard in the corner furthest from the door. His siblings looked up.
Thranduil, who was already standing up, walked over and touched the wooden handles. "Should I?" he said with a smile, waiting for affirmation. They both nodded enthusiastically. He turned around and opened the cabinet doors. Inside were immediately revealed several shelves of fine wine.
They all made noises of admiration. This must be their father's personal collection of wine, rarely touched, and much more valuable than any of them realised. After a moment, Thranduil decided to take a bottle down to inspect it. He carefully lifted it off the shelf and held it with both hands to read the label.
Thranduil pulled the cork out slowly with his father's corkscrew, which they all knew was kept in the drawer under the desk. He sniffed the bottle. "Mmm..." he hummed at the strong scent. "It smells delicious."
"I am sure it tastes delicious, too," added Lórelion pleasantly, but also with a subtle hint.
"Why don't you pour it out?" said Tindomel. She smiled at Thranduil and then nodded at the goblet on their father's desk.
Thranduil did so, and after setting the bottle back down next to the glass he sipped at the drink. He handed the goblet over to Lórelion, who took a large sip himself and then passed it on to his sister.
Lórelion noticed two chairs positioned on either side of a large bookcase, got up, and pulled them over to the desk. They all sat to continue with the wine.
By now the three elves were having a very merry time and Tindomel was ready to pour the next serving for them to enjoy. She leaned over to get the bottle, which was sitting next to Lórelion's right arm. However, Thranduil, who was also more than happy to pour the next glass, reached at that moment to pick the bottle up for himself, and as his arm moved forward he struck the side of Tindomel's own arm, which pushed over the contents of the uncorked wine bottle into Lórelion's lap.
Lórelion jumped back in his chair with a gasp. "Oh by the Valar, you are going to pay for that!"
Tindomel shrieked with joy and jumped off the chair. With a laugh, Lórelion waved the bottle in her direction, sending a cascade of wine through the air and onto her gown. The princess gasped and grabbed the corkscrew, and made a dash for the wine cabinet as she realised she had to provide a counter-attack. She gracefully pulled a bottle out from the shelf and turned around to face her brothers, ripping the cork out and dropping it to one side. She stepped back towards them. Thranduil, who had been greatly enjoying watching the brief spar between his siblings until that point, caught their eyes and noticed that he was now the only one unarmed. He decided to grab a bottle himself from the cabinet, but as he ran past his brother he caught more than a splash of wine on his nightclothes. The wine was going to be more fun than they had anticipated!
.
Oropher had noticed the absence of his three children for several hours. He hadn't seen them since leaving after dinner, and usually they would come to bid him goodnight before retiring for the evening. Walking along the middle floor hallway he made his way to Lórelion's chambers first, hoping to find the three of them inside. He stood outside the closed chamber door and tapped his knuckles firmly on the wood. Yet after knocking on the door and calling their names he heard nothing.
The king then decided they must be in the room of one of the younger two elves. He turned around and proceeded to Thranduil's rooms, further down the corridor, and knocked on his door.
"Thranduil, are you in there? Do you have your brother and sister in there with you?" There was silence, and after a moment he knocked again. "Thranduil?" The silence continued.
With a sigh, Oropher left and made his way to the chambers of Tindomel, which he reasoned must be the location of his children. Upon arrival he knocked and called out his daughter's name. After hearing nothing once again he turned the handle and walked in.
It was clearly empty.
He walked further inside and looked around the small sitting area. Then he went up to the door of the bedroom itself and pushed it open to reveal a perfectly made bed with no one in sight, although a servant had recently lit the candles.
Oropher began to suspect something was going on. His children were usually very well-behaved, as was expected of royalty, but on rare occasions their youthfulness and close bonds with each other led to things getting out of hand. He headed off down the corridor to search for them with a deepened expression on his face.
.
By now the three young elves were heavily engaged in their wine fight. They ran around the room chasing each other, throwing wine around and laughing at the top of their lungs. Each of them was now already onto their second bottle, having discarded the first and rushed to get a replacement from the cabinet. They unconsciously came nearer and nearer to the study door.
Eventually the trio got hold of each other in an effort to prevent their getaway, and they wrestled for a moment. Suddenly Thranduil's back hit the door, pushing it open.
.
The king stood in the grand corridor outside the dining room with his arms crossed, watching the sight heading swiftly towards him. Tindomel was mounted on Lórelion's back, attempting to pour wine over his fair hair while at the same time evading Thranduil's efforts to do a similar thing to her. All three were soaked with the drink and their clothing had begun to turn a suspicious shade of red.
"No, you won't get me!" cried Tindomel, and she gripped Lórelion's shoulder even tighter as her head lurched away from Thranduil.
They carried on with their play, oblivious to the fact that their father was in the corridor with them.
Lórelion gave a great laugh and tried to throw off his sister as more wine ran down his head, and Tindomel giggled as she nearly fell to the floor. By chance she looked up – and quickly sobered. The trio halted immediately as they saw who stood in front of them.
There the king stood, his arms crossed and his feet firm, enrobed in his regal green velvet dressing gown. Oropher raised an eyebrow but otherwise showed no reaction. He simply stared at them as they stared back.
After the initial shock, Tindomel slid off Lórelion's back and onto her feet. She hid the freshly empty bottle of wine behind her back; the other two quickly did the same. It was, however, a futile attempt to feign innocence and they knew it. For a while they were silent, unsure of how they could explain their actions to their father, and yet it was Oropher who spoke first.
"Would you care to explain yourselves?" The king's face was for the most part unreadable, and yet there was something about him that defied his usually serious tone.
The younger elves exchanged nervous glances.
"Adar," began Lórelion, stuttering. "I... It is my fault. We were trying to find something to do to amuse ourselves, and I noticed the cabinet of wine in your office-"
"And what were you doing in my office, may I ask?" the king interrupted.
"That was my idea," said Tindomel, and her father's eyes quickly darted over to her. Suddenly she began to feel the great power of the king's gaze and the brief impulse of courage quickly faded. There was a pause before she managed to find her words. "While we were passing by I noticed the door to your office was open and I suggested we go in. I... I thought we do not often go in there and... I thought there might be some interesting things inside."
Suddenly, Oropher realised with dismay that his prized vintage bottles must have been the source of the wine they had used in their game. Pushing that thought aside for a moment, he continued to speak with his arms folded. "And you didn't stop to think about whether you had permission to enter in my absence, not to mention go through my personal possessions?"
His children cast their eyes down and the question went unanswered.
"And," he looked about them with even greater incredulousness, "how do you even begin to explain how this happened?" He gestured at their wine-sodden clothes.
It was finally Thranduil who spoke up. "I think I must take responsibility for that, Adar. You see, while we were in there, Tindomel was holding a bottle and I must have pushed my arm into hers, because it spilled into Lórelion's lap, and that's how this started." He glanced down at the stains on his robe to indicate what he meant.
"But I made the first deliberate strike," said Lórelion as he glanced at Thranduil. He certainly didn't want his brother to get the blame when he felt most responsible. Lórelion then allowed himself a small joke in spite of the interrogation. "I could not let my clothes get stained while theirs escaped without a mark."
Tindomel slowly bent down and put her empty wine bottle on the floor. It was while she was doing this that Thranduil noticed for the first time the glimmer in his father's eyes as he watched the guilty bottle being placed down, almost in surrender. Thranduil's lips parted slightly with the uncertainty of whether or not to smile, finding the simple gesture quite amusing himself – although it was certainly not intended that way by Tindomel – and he waited in suspense for the king's next move.
"And the other two," said Oropher, looking at his sons. They quickly remembered the bottles in their own hands and promptly stooped down to place them on the floor.
Although by now they had all begun to sense something strange about the king's manner, Lórelion felt that they hadn't given their father the apology he was obviously owed. Besides, they wouldn't be able to leave without offering one.
Lórelion gave a small sigh and began in a gentle voice, "Adar, we really are sorry. We were bored and looking for amusement, but didn't mean for it to get out of hand as it did."
"I see," said Oropher quietly.
His son added thoughtfully, "if you like, we shall clean up the mess before going to bed."
"That won't be necessary," the king replied, "I shall have the servants attend to it now before it sets into the carpet. I suggest you all go to your bedchambers and retire for the night," he said firmly.
The three elves gratefully accepted.
The king then returned his attention to their sodden garments. "Now, I think you had better change your nightclothes." They nodded in response and together they slowly turned around to leave.
"And take the bottles with you," he added. There was almost a smile, although they did not see it.
"Yes, Adar."
..
Thranduil stirred from his thoughts of that distant memory and the people who were no longer with him. A sweet and treasured memory it was, and he chuckled to himself as he sat up in the chair of the study that had once been occupied by his father. Now it was his domain in which to rule over the Mirkwood people, in a way he hoped his father would be proud. He lifted his head off his hand and looked down at the pile of work on the desk. There were several trade orders and scout reports to be read through, as well as some private letters of correspondence. And, he noticed, a receipt for the latest delivery of wine caskets to be signed for the cellars. In his heart he secretly wished that perhaps one day he might catch his own son in a similar scenario, in which he could play the part of his father and watch the moment with both disapproval and amusement. He clung to that hope with a wry smile, and picked up the quill to sign the receipt.