Sometimes the King dreamt of days long gone, of days when he still had family left to call him spring.
Thranduil stood at the prow of the great Elven-ship, his eyes focused on the horizon. The land that lay there was known by many names for the Quendi:
Aman.
Valinor.
The Blessed Realm.
But most importantly, home. And home he wished it could be.
Thranduil tipped his head up and hauled in a deep breath. The salty tang of the ocean drew him in, as usual. Thranduil gazed out across the endless span of water, wondering, what if he jumped overboard and simply sank to the bottom of the sea? Would he be missed? Would the never-ending roar of the ocean inside of him finally cease? His gaze flitted back to the fast-approaching shoreline as another Elf stepped up beside him.
Himeliel rested her hand lightly on Thranduil's back. "What are you thinking of?" she murmured.
"I am thinking of my brother." Thranduil's answer was a low rumble in his chest.
Himeliel turned to him, her eyes lingering a moment on the scarred left side of his face. Thranduil remembered her reaction when he'd sawn her after the initial injury, and then again after nearly a millennia under Gil-galad's service. To put it lightly, the Sinda elleth had been horrified. Himeliel hadn't understood why he didn't use a glamour to cover his marred skin. Thranduil, who'd also picked up a tattoo or two, hadn't seen the point.
Himeliel's soft voice drew Thranduil back to the present. "It has been over four Ages since we lost him," she said, "and if Námo has been kind enough to return Glorfindel to us, then I have hope that Galadaer has been restored as well."
Thranduil hummed but said nothing to the old elleth, lost in his thoughts as he was. Galadaer was not the only Elf that the former King was anxious to see: If Námo had been kind, there was hope that Thranduil would see his family again.
Aman's shores grew steadily clearer, and Thranduil could soon see the forests that grew upon the land. Buildings and piers made themselves known, and then suddenly Thranduil was helping Círdan dock the great swan-ship. He ushered his people onto the shores of the Blessed Realm, helping the children, sharing their excitement, and then --
As soon as Thranduil stepped off the ship, he knew that he could not stay. All the mental pep talks he given himself on the voyage fled his mind with tails tucked between their legs. How could he ever have thought that a child of the sea itself could find peace in a land where nothing changed?
The dull roar of the ocean inside him grew to fill Thranduil's chest. One day, he would have to leave this place and leave his family again.
That was a rather depressing thought. Thranduil shook his head, pushing his misgivings to the back of his mind. He would worry about the future when the waves of time grew too powerful to ignore.
But for now, Thranduil's eyes swept the crowd for a head of golden hair. His tithen-las was waiting.
oOo
Galadaer watched the boats arrive perched in a tree, high above the other Elves' heads. His eyes alighted on the blond elf standing on top of the gangway. The ellon was helping the smallest elflings down the walkway and onto solid ground.
It was not, however, the Elf's golden hair that caught Galadaer's attention. Rather, it was the state of the ellon's face.
The poor guy's left eye was a clouded, milky white. Shining scar tissue stretched from his temple all the way down the left side of his face. There were scars on his hand as well, and doubtless more hidden by clothing. It made Galadaer's heart ache for the ellon. He wondered if the Elf had used a glamour on Arda; If he had, then he must have had a heart attack when it failed to work as he neared Aman. Magic worked differently on this side of the Sundering Sea.
Galadaer could not hear what the Elves on the ship were saying, but he could see that the scarred Elf was high up the social ladder from the way they addressed him. There was quite a lot of bowing from ellith and ellyn alike.
As the last of the newcomers found solid ground, the blond ellon followed his people down the gangway. Galadaer cocked his head in interest when the ellon's steps faltered when his feet touched the dock. A look of what could only be described as utter despair flashed across his face.
Galadaer leaned forward on his perch. What could be so depressing here in the Blessed Realm?
The ellon's eyes were now sweeping over the gathered crowd. Galadaer's slight forward movement must have caught his attention, for the ellon suddenly looked upwards at his tree. Their eyes collided, and Galadaer felt his heart stop.
The ellon's unclouded eye was a clear, crystalline blue. It was a blue that matched Galadaer's own, a blue that he could recognize even asleep.
"Thranduil."
Suddenly, the ellon's dark brows in contrast to his light hair were not so strange. The lines of his face that remained untouched by his scars were all of a sudden familiar to Galadaer because they belonged to his spring.
Galadaer was down the tree in a fraction of the time it had taken him to get up it. He barreled through the crowd of Sindar and Silvan Elves, ignoring their indignant cries of surprise as he pushed them aside.
Thranduil had not moved from where he stood on the dock. Galadaer could not help but grin stupidly as he crashed into his little brother and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug. To hell if Thranduil didn't recognize him. He'd been waiting far too long for his little spring!
Galadaer dug his fingers into his little brother's hair, noticing that Thranduil was hugging him back. Galadaer's heart jumped giddily - his brother knew who he was!
Somehow, it was Galadaer who pulled away first. He grabbed his brother's shoulders and held him at arm's length, eyes surveying the muscular ellon his scrawny little brother had become.
Thranduil's lips were tilted upwards in a lopsided smile, but his eyes were guarded as he watched his brother. Galadaer reached out, the tips of his fingers ghosting over his brother's mutilated face. "Who - what did this to you?"
Thranduil jerked away. Galadaer could not help but feel disappointed. Had he been truly gone so long that his own brother did not trust him?
"'Tis not the time nor place to dwell on such matters," Thranduil said. Galadaer noted the lilting accent on his brother's words. He sounded quite like the Noldor who lived by the river. Had Thranduil stayed in Lindon after the war?
His little brother ducked his head suddenly, smiling. Galadaer laughed at the motion. "I see you are still the darling angel around me, eh? What do you want? Come, spit it out!"
"I'm looking for my son." Thranduil's eyes were sweeping the portside city again. "You wouldn't happen to know of an Elf named Legolas?"
Galadaer let out a bark of laughter. "You mean the blondie with the dwarf is your kid? I should have known!"
Thranduil gave him a withering look. "I have not seen him in centuries, Laer. Where is he?"
Galadaer took his brother's hand. "Come," he said, "I will take you to him."
And as the two brothers joined the throng of Elves besides the port, Galadaer could have sworn that the sun shone a little brighter. After all, spring was here at last!
oOo
Galadaer - Radiant Summer: Thranduil's older brother, an OC of mine. He died in the War of Wrath.
Tithen-las: Little leaf: A family name for Legolas
I've recently started reading the LotR books, and let me tell you, they are something indeed! This is my first fic in Tolkien's universe, and you can definitely expect more! These characters are very fun to write.