Disclaimer: I only own Thranduil's sibling's, nothing else. I also don't own the cover image.
Himdor paused from brushing his silver-white steed down, listening to the commotion outside with mild interest.
That was all he ever felt anymore. Not joy or sorrow, nor grief or pain. Just, the interest since his littlest brother had died.
The patrol had just… vanished. They had no one idea what had happened, but that was six months ago. They were all still trying to accept it. But that was hard. Death was not common for elves, especially in a time of such peace, and those who felt it had never known anything to hurt or sting so much.
"It's him!"
"The prince!"
"Isn't he dead?" Himdor's heart leaped into his throat at the last comment. Hope was spreading through him, unchecked. He squashed it. They were not talking about Thranduil.
Still, he could not stop himself from setting down the brush and trying to walk slowly outside, but he knew that he failed.
He saw where the crowd was around and pushed his way to the center. He saw the figure the crowd was around, his back to Himdor. Blonde hair, pale skin. And slowly, the elf turned.
"Thranduil." Himdor breathed and felt something for the first time in six months- joy. He rushed forward to hug his little brother, but the aforementioned elf held up a hand to stop him.
"Mae govannen Himdor." Himdor's heart broke at those words. They were cold and flat, emotionless. "I must speak with the king." And then he just turned away and started walking toward the palace. Himdor reached out a grabbed his wrist, but he didn't expect Thranduil to flip him and hiss in his ear as he lay held on the floor by his always so kind brother,
"Do not touch me." And then, he was gone. Only Himdor noticed the carefully concealed limp he had, or the pain that had shown in his eyes.
"My king, your youngest son wished to speak to you."
Oropher sighed. After Thranduil went missing, everyone started calling Melchanar his 'youngest son', filling the place that Thranduil had left. He knew his son was gone, why did they have to rub salt in the wound?
What he didn't expect in a million years on this side of the sea, was Thranduil- his elfling- to kneel before his throne and say,
"The Orc presence has grown stronger on our western border. They are becoming bolder and we can barely hold them at bay." The king's jaw dropped, not at all regally. His son went missing for half a year, and then showed up to give him a report as if he had been gone for no more than a week?
"Ion-nin…" Oropher said, rising to stand but Thranduil held up a hand.
"Please, my king. I am tired a wish to retire to my room." Oropher nodded and reached out to hug his long-lost son or at least place a hand on his shoulder, but Thranduil hissed,
"Do not touch me." Oropher jerked away quickly as if burnt and Thranduil took the opportunity to flee, leaving his father with one arm outstretched and gaping.
Only later, did Oropher realize that there had been fear in his son's silver eyes. Why was he afraid of his own father?
Only when he was in his room, did Thranduil begin to cry. He cried for how long he had been away. He cried for all he had missed. But most of all, he cried for the fact that he felt like a stranger in his own home.
Author's Note:
I'm procrastinating again. I swear, this is a short story, but it hit me and I couldn't let it go!
I hope you enjoy it!
Translations:
Mae Govannen: Well met (Hello)
Ion-nin: My son
How was the first chapter?