Prologue

F. A. 412

A rather dark scowl formed on the face of the young ellon as he pulled at the new armor he wore—which was currently chafing his armpits— while his mother fussed over him. When all that straightening of his collar and brushing off of imaginary dust became too much, Thranduil stuck out his hands and pushed his mother back a few steps, needing to get away from her incisive fretting. "Nana," he whined.

"Leave him be, Calassiel," his father scolded, looking his son over. "He's fine."

"Oh, you always say that," the golden haired elleth pouted to her husband, before turning back to her son. "A mother must make certain these things," she replied haughtily before licking the tip of her thumb and standing up on her tiptoes so she could rub at yet another invented imperfection.

"Nana!" Thranduil moaned, pushed her hand away in horror. "For the last time, there's nothing there! It's just a shadow or something."

"Just to be certain," she winked up at her son, who couldn't help but roll his eyes in frustrated disgust at his mother's unwanted playfulness.

"Mind your mother, ion nín," Oropher chided sternly, before carefully guiding his wife away from their annoyed offspring. "Now, are you ready to go?"

"Yes," the young elf drawled in exasperated suffering. "I've been ready to go since forever."

Calassiel laughed at her son's dramatics, her voice as light and soft as tiny bells caught in a gentle breeze. While Thranduil would never admit to it, especially at times when her mirth was caused at his expense, he loved to hear his mother laugh. It was so pure and lovely. It instantly soothed the young ellon's nerves no matter the situation. He had noticed, too, after much observation, that it seemed to have the same effect on his father, though it was sometimes hard to tell. Oropher was always so stern and stoic that it sometimes surprised his son that his parents had fallen in love at all. They were just so dissimilar.

But he was shaken from his musings when his father clasped the younger elf on the shoulder. "Let's be off," he said simply, gesturing towards the door. "The king needs to inspect you before you're assigned to your first official duty."

Thranduil couldn't help but make a face at the obviously proud speech. "I still don't understand why I have to be a guard," he muttered. "Aren't you like a prince or something? Shouldn't you be assigned as some kind of advisor to the king?"

Oropher gave his son a flat look before turning to walk out the door, forcing Thranduil to follow, but not before giving a quick wave to his mother as he went. "I suggest you temper your tongue before you are presented to the king," the elder elf advised once his son had caught up, sending him a pointed look. "King Thingol does not tolerate cheekiness."

The young ellon smirked as he fell into step beside his father. "I'm not cheeky, Adar," he argued. "I just appreciate wit."

The silver-haired elf gave his son another dry look before turning away. Together the two walked in relative silence. Since his father was in no mood to speak, Thranduil took the time to breathe and prepare himself for the meeting with the High King of the Sindar for the first time.

Well, it wasn't the very first time, the ellon corrected himself. King Thingol had come to inspect his great-great nephew when he was born and to bestow a blessing, but that had been the last time the sovereign had taken any interest in his youngest great-great nephew. Which was unfair, really, since Thranduil believed himself to be incredibly interesting.

But that was the way of things. The king was only concerned with those that were useful to him, and now that Thranduil was finally of age, he could be useful. It was apparently a major concern to his father that this meeting go well. Oropher was in favor with the king currently for his steadfast loyalty and his prudishness in politics. Apparently the more boring one could be, the more he was esteemed by the king. It made the young elf scrunch up his nose in revulsion. How tedious.

A part of Thranduil knew that he should probably be worried about this meeting with the king, yet the greater part of him found he couldn't muster the energy to bother. It was too much effort to concern himself with something like this. It was just one meeting, after all, and his father always made such a big deal about everything that had to do with the king. If things went poorly, the ellon would just shrug and hope he could pull at family ties. If the king found any failings in Thranduil, the younger elf would just gently point out that it came from Thingol's side of the family, he supposed. Not his fault that he inherited the 'Sindar boldness' as his mother called it.

At last they reached the king's audience chamber and paused outside the door. Thranduil scratched at the armor rubbing under his arm before his father slapped his hand back. The younger elf grumbled, looking away resentfully, but his father's hand on his arm drew the elfling's attention back.

Staring down slightly into blue eyes so similar to his own, though usually so guarded, the young elf saw many things swimming within the sapphire orbs. It stalled his sulkiness at having this meeting. It was the first time in a long time since Thranduil could remember seeing his father looking so…open. "Adar?" he asked, confused.

The shadow of a smile graced Oropher's lips as he studied his son's face with a gentleness that was not typical for him. "Today is the anniversary of your conception," he explained quietly. "And it is now also the day you are grown. You are no longer an elfling, ion nín, it is time for you to step up and accept responsibility."

A weight began pressing down upon the young elf at his father's speech. It was heavy and felt precious, and was something Thranduil found he did not like. Oropher was making this of far too much importance, yet strangely, the young ellon felt compelled to live up to his father's expectations despite the rebellious side that wanted nothing to do with what his father was silently commanding. He didn't want this life, he didn't want to have to walk in anyone else's shadow when the sun shone so brilliantly just ahead. Yet the weight that had come upon him whispered to Thranduil, and the young elf knew that even if he did run, it would catch up to him in the end.

So, with his father staring at him so keenly, the young elf bowed his head formally. "Yes, Adar."

And with only one more pat on the shoulder, Oropher turned his son towards the door and sent him in. Thranduil couldn't help imagine a lamb slowly trekking into the wolf's den. The great doors were instantly closed behind him the moment he stepped through the threshold of the king's chamber. He was trapped. There was no turning back.

As he looked up, he saw sitting there before him, seated high upon his throne, King Thingol himself. The greatest of the Sindar.

Story of the High King of the Sindar had spread wide throughout Middle Earth, of his radiance and stature, but Thranduil was convinced it hadn't done the elf justice. He himself was considered quite tall, taller than most because of the Vanyar blood from his mother, but Thingol was taller still. The tallest of all the Eldar many said. And his head was crowned with long, shining silver hair that twinkled under the light like the heavens at night. His eyes, too, were deep silver, as if the Valar had plucked two stars from the sky and placed them into the face of one of the First Born.

The young elf found himself intimidated, but his pride would not allow him cower. If anything, it made the younger ellon stand up straighter, ignoring the itchiness under his arms, to keep his shoulders square. While Thingol might have been the king, Thranduil was convinced that he was not beneath the elf sitting upon the throne. He had every right to be proud, and that pride instantly found its way into his bearing and gate as he walked towards the throne with long, confident steps.

Beside the king, watching him, was Prince Celeborn, his father's cousin. Celeborn, like his father, held the king's favor. But while Oropher served as the head of the king's personal guard, Celeborn was the king's chief most advisors. Oropher held the king's life in his hands while Celeborn held the king's ear. Thranduil could never decide which was a more powerful position.

Once before the throne, Thranduil got down upon his knees, as he'd been taught, and bowed down to the king, hands out before him on the ground, his face to the floor. It hurt his ego to have to perform such a humbling act, as if he were nothing more than a sniveling beast, but then, he did not wish to cause his father any problems. Especially not after what had just passed between them moments ago. So, while he silently fumed at being made to stay on the ground until the king fancied, outwardly he remained perfectly still and submissive. Or at least he hoped it looked that way.

After what seemed a little too long, making the young elf wonder if the king was playing games with him, Thingol finally spoke. "Rise, my dear nephew. Rise."

Doing as he was told, Thranduil stood from the ground and regained his proud disposition. He kept his face as neutral as he could, though his father always scolded him for bearing a constant arrogance in his features. His mother claimed that it was merely confidence, while Oropher always doubted the look. Whatever it was, the young elf was sure it was there now, but didn't worry much about it. It was not something he could help, at any rate, so he would allow the king to judge him as he truly was.

And it seemed the king was doing just that. Thingol sat silently a moment, looking over his great-great nephew like one might a horse they were preparing to purchase. Thranduil tried not to let the comparison burn his dignity, but it was difficult. Especially when he saw Celeborn giving disapproving frowns at him. What were they looking for?

"Well," the king spoke again, a slight smirk on his face as he stood and came down from his throne, Celeborn following after him. "I never would have imagined that one of Oropher's sons would have so much pride."

Keeping himself still, the younger elf watched as Thingol circled around him, becoming both angry and nervous. He couldn't stop himself as he asked, "Is having confidence in one's self offensive to you, my lord?"

The moment he uttered the words Thranduil snapped his mouth shut, suddenly afraid that he had not only ruined this meeting, but had gotten himself and his family into serious trouble. Etiquette dictated that he wait until the king allow him to speak, yet his own sense of protocol had always demanded that he defend himself when attacked. At the moment, however, he cursed his loose lips, almost wishing his parents had been sterner with him when growing up.

"Hold your tongue, child," Celeborn chided, scowling at his younger cousin.

Just as embarrassed shame started to make its way to the young ellon's mind, the king held up his hand before more words could be passed. "No, no," he said, stopping directly before Thranduil, half a head taller than the younger elf. "It is not often I hear candidness. Speak, child. You have more to say, I can tell."

The situation suddenly became confusing. The pressure of doing well for his father's sake did not go away, but pushed down heavier upon the young ellon as he stared up at the king. But he was given the freedom to speak, which appealed to young elf very much. Yet there was also palpable tension in the room between himself and Celeborn, the elder elf seeming to dare his cousin to open his mouth again. Strangely Thranduil found he did not feel as suffocated when before the king as he was when he looked over at his cousin.

Knowing he had to say something now, especially since the king ordered it, Thranduil dipped his head in an act of humbleness that was probably not convincing. "I meant no offense, my lord," he replied slowly, studiously ignoring Celeborn's gaze boring into him. "It is that I merely do not understand why pride is to be perceived as something negative. Pride is what keeps realms standing and united, it is said. It is what keeps rulers strong."

The king nodded once, silver eyes dancing. "Interesting assessment. And you do not believe that pride is at all harmful?"

"I suppose it can be…if used incorrectly."

Thingol laughed out loud. "And how can pride be used 'correctly'?" His silvery eyes sparkled in amusement.

Feeling as if he was being appeased, as though he were a child, Thranduil straightened himself up, trying to match the king's height, though knowing it was a useless gesture. "Pride is an effective weapon. One must be strong to wield it or else they fall to shame. It can rally peoples and bring honor. Those who have no pride rarely accomplish much in this world and are usually swept away; forgotten."

"And you have no plans of being forgotten." The king's grin unnerved the younger being.

Blinking once, not truly understanding why these questions continued when he'd explained himself, Thranduil shook his head once, despite knowing the king's last words were rhetorical. "No. Why should I?"

The king laughed again, actually reaching out to clasped the young elf on the shoulder as his father had, grinning widely. "Such nerve for one so young! And you are only a century?"

Feeling uncomfortably juvenile, Thranduil tried not to squirm under the king's touch. "Exactly today, my lord."

"That's right," Thingol nodded, before looking hard at his great-great nephew. The intensity of the stare burned. "You have the look of your mother," he said sobering slightly. "Though I see traces of your father..." He paused. "All the better. Now, tell me of yourself, young one. Why do you wish to be inducted into my services?"

I don't, Thranduil thought to answer, but in that, he held his tongue. "I wish to fulfill my duty and serve my realm and king, my lord."

Thingol gave him a look that clearly said he knew what the younger elf truly thought, but nodded anyway. "And you wish now to step up to serve beside your father? To give yourself to the realm that has protected you since your birth?"

"Yes," the blond nodded once, becoming stiff, repeating the words that had been beaten into him for many years now. "It is my duty to give back to my realm any way that I can."

"Indeed it is," the king nodded, his face sobering as he looked over his young relation. "Very well, young one, you may make your pledge to me." The king held out his hand expectantly.

A wave of dread flooded over Thranduil as he looked down at the offered hand, but he took it and knelt down before his king anyway. For all of his previous bravado, his nerves had finally caught up with him and as he sat on his knees staring at the jeweled rings on the large hand, the young elf had to take a moment to breathe. Even though there was only the king and Celeborn in the room, Thranduil felt as though everyone in the realm was staring down at him, daring him to rise up and run away as an uncomfortably great part of himself screamed for him to do just that. This was not the life he wanted. There was so much more he could do, so much more he could give to the realm besides standing behind the king.

But there was one pair of eyes in his mind that forced the young ellon to stay rooted in place, and he knew they were waiting just outside the door for him. Taking one last deep breath, Thranduil began, "I, Thranduil, son of Oropher, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend my realm and king against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the King of Doriath and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to the laws and Code of Warriors. So help me Valar."

The words sat heavily upon Thranduil's tongue as he spoke them, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. And when he had finally spoken the last of them, he stared down once more at the hand before him, fighting the urge to sneer. Instead, however, he managed to lean forward and kiss the fingers before releasing the king's hand.

The moment he let go, Thingol placed his hands back upon the younger being's shoulders. "I accept your pledge, my nephew. Rise."

Thranduil did as he was bid, and stood, feeling heavier and more trapped than he ever had before. But he worked to keep his inner musing to himself, not wanting the king to guess that his nephew was already regretting the pledge.

Forever was a long time, and Thranduil knew he would not be satisfied with his work for that long. But what else could he do? There was not much choice for him here in Doriath, nor would there ever be. He was the king's guard now, his warrior, and could do nothing save with the king's consent. It was a depressing thought.

But pushing such gloomy feelings away, waiting as patiently as he could, Thranduil watched as the king looked over him. There was a strange glint in the monarch's eye that made the younger ellon uncomfortable. What was he looking for?

A smile once more found its way onto the king's lips, and a rather pleased expression set itself on his features. "I believe I have kept you here long enough," Thingol declared at last. "You may leave, Oropherion."

Utter relief swept over Thranduil and he tried not to let the king see it. But as he began to bow, he realized something was not right, and blurted, "You have not given me my assignment yet."

Another disapproving look from Celeborn told the younger elf that he probably should have at least tacked on a 'my lord' for good measure, but the time was past now. Adding it now would only make him look more foolish, so he held his tongue― and his breath― hoping he hadn't been too rude. He probably had been, though. His great-great uncle didn't look like the kind of ellon that took disrespect well, nor as a king, would he be used to it.

That same smirk from earlier when he'd first spoken out of turn revisited the king's lips, and Thranduil suspected that he was going to have to watch himself around the Sindar king from now on. That twinkle in his eye didn't ease the younger being's worries. "There will be plenty of time for that, my dear young nephew," he said with what sounded akin to insincere comfort. "Today is your conception day! You need not be hindered with responsibility just yet. You will have the rest of your immortal life for that."

The remark hit Thranduil hard, but a blow harder still came when Thingol continued, "Come to dine tonight with my family." The blond blinked, sure his eyes were the size of the moon. "Bring your family. We will have a private celebration for your coming of age and your induction into my services."

Thranduil stood speechless, looking up at his sovereign, not quite knowing what to say. Behind him, Celeborn cleared his throat, and it was only then that the younger elf found his voice again. "I-I…Yes! Yes, thank you, my lord, we would be delighted." Another stern look from Celeborn spurred Thranduil to add, "And honored." He stopped himself before adding a vulgar, I suppose.

The king laughed once more, shaking the youth's shoulder in a too familiar fashion. It amazed Thranduil that Thingol felt this comfortable with him considering that ellon hadn't bothered to see his great-great nephew since the day of his birth. But then, he was king and could do whatever he pleased. Sometimes the younger elf wished he could be king, if just so he could get away with breaking protocol.

And with only a wave of the hand, the ruler dismissed the young elf with a chuckle, annoying the blond soundly, but he knew he'd pushed his luck enough for one day. Instead of wrinkling his nose in distaste at the treatment he received, like an obedient servant of the king, Thranduil bowed low, bent nearly to ninety degrees, feeling ridiculous, before he straightened and turned to stride out of the room. The farther away from Thingol's unpleasant joviality and Celeborn's disapproving stares, the better the blond felt. In fact, the moment he was out the door and they closed behind him, he felt comfortable enough to pick at his underarms, bemoaning the fact that they still itched.

He didn't get the sweet satisfaction of scratching them long, however, before his father came rushing over, an uncharacteristically worried expression on his face. "Well?" Oropher demanded the moment he was beside his son, simultaneously slapping his hand away from itching his underarms. "How did it go?"

Thranduil nearly groaned. He didn't feel like being interrogated by his panicky father after the uncomfortable introduction to the king. But it did seem unavoidable. "Well, I suppose," he shrugged, not looking the other in the eye.

Oropher frowned, grabbing his son's shoulder and leading him back towards their home. "Did you mind your manners? You followed all proper etiquette?"

Flashes of memory from only minutes before rushed past Thranduil's eyes― Celeborn's disapproving glares that were too similar to his father's every time something tumbled out of his mouth. But the younger elf pushed such thoughts away to roll his eyes instead. "Yes, Ada, I bowed and remained at attention and even enunciated all my words."

The silver haired elf scowled at his son. "Don't get smart," he snapped. "I sincerely hope you minded your mouth in there."

Again, Celeborn's scowls came to mind, but were replaced with images of the king's smiles. "The king was not offended with me," he answered carefully, which was true enough. He just hoped his father didn't ask anything more specific.

Thankfully today Oropher's mind seemed particularly distracted and he did not call his son out for his aloofness. "Excellent," he nodded once. "And where did the king station you?"

Thranduil itched at his arms awkwardly, trying not to meet his father's gaze, which did not go unnoticed. "Don't tell me he put you on guard duty in the southern wing," the older elf groaned. "What did you say for him to place you there?"

"He didn't put me there!" Thranduil cried in defense, before deflating an instant later. "He just…didn't…put me anywhere…Yet."

Apparently of all the scenarios going on in Oropher's head, that had never been one. Immediately the silver haired ellon stopped dead in his tracks, staring over at his son with wide, shocked eyes. "He didn't accept your pledge?" he whispered in horror. "Valar, what did you do that would offend him?"

"He wasn't offended!" Thranduil cried in exasperation, throwing up his arms, which only made the itch fiercer. "Look, all he said was that he didn't want to ruin the anniversary of my conception day by giving me duties. He said he'd get back with me on it."

At Oropher's disbelieving look, his son sighed in loathing. Why did everyone insist of treating him like a dishonest elfling? "Really! He even invited all of us to dinner tonight to celebrate my conception day."

Another surprised expression passed over Oropher's usually impassive face as he stared into his son's eyes, searching for any signs of deceit. When he saw none, the elder elf's entire body tensed, and Thranduil was actually afraid that his father might fall over. He'd never seen his father so…expressive before, and it was starting to worry him. "Ada?"

Slowly, the other elf drew a deep breath. And just as slowly, he let it out before repeating several times. "The king…King Thingol… asked us to dine with him this evening?"

A smirk wormed its way onto Thranduil's lips now, his eyes beaming with barely concealed smugness. "For my conception day."

"He offered this?"

"Yes."

"Freely?"

"Graciously."

One set of blue eyes narrowed suspiciously while the other merely twinkled. It wasn't every day Thranduil had the upper hand over his father. But now that he did, he wanted to enjoy the sweet satisfaction to its fullest. And with all the looks Oropher was giving him, it only served to amuse the younger ellon immensely.

At last Oropher released his son from his gaze and began walking back towards their home. Thranduil trailed behind happily, smiling cheekily at anyone who bothered to look his way. The more he thought about his invitation to dine with the king, the more he liked the idea of it. He'd gained the special attention of King Thingol in the first meeting! How many others received such honor? The young elf was willing to bet it wasn't many, which only fanned the flames of his already expanding ego.

When they walked into the door of their home, Calassiel was by their sides in an instant, an expression of barely contained excitement on her face as she raced forward to plant a kiss on her mate's cheek before throwing her arms around their son. Finding he particularly loved his mother's exuberance today, Thranduil hugged her back fiercely, even going so far as to kiss her on the cheek, knowing she adored it when he did that. The she-elf smiled warmly up at her son, before grabbing his arm and leading him towards the kitchen.

"Tell me everything!" she exclaimed once there, Oropher trailing along behind the two blonds. "Where are you posted? When do you start? What did the king say? Oh, my dearest, I am so proud of you!"

Again, the young elf couldn't help the swell of pride in himself for having pleased his mother so greatly― and she didn't even know anything that had happened! Unlike her husband, Calassiel was free in her expressions and affection, showering her son with it often and generously. No matter what happened, Thranduil knew he always had his mother's love. Which always made it worse if he ever let her down. His father, on the other hand, while usually more stern despite his interrogation after his son's meeting with the king, also appeared proud of his son. Looking at his sire now, young ellon knew he had his father's support.

So, once they were all seated around the table, Thranduil quickly launched into everything that passed within the king's throne room. Although, he did deem it prudent to leave out the parts where Celeborn had scowled at him in disapproval... And the few times where he might have spoken out of turn before Thingol gave him permission to speak freely. But they didn't need to know about all that. He told them only what was important, and that was having gained the king's favor.

As expected, his mother was beaming, her smile rivaling the sun in its brightness once her son's tale was complete. "Oh, Thranduil!" she cried, taking his hands in hers. "This is wonderful! I am so very proud of you! But we will need to prepare for this evening! You must wear your best!"

Oropher only shook his head at his wife's antics as she prattled on about how they would prepare for the night, before excusing him to get back to work. Now having the entire day free, Thranduil was pleased he could relax and enjoy his conception day properly. While his mother continued to fuss about the dinner, the young ellon decided to relax in his room. After all, he deserved it.

When he entered his room, the first thing he did was remove his armor, liberally scratching at his underarms, before flopping down on the bed. A content sigh escaped him, and a pleased grin spread across his lips as he thought of his parents' proud smiles. There was nothing quite as satisfying as pleasing not only his mother, but father as well.

But just as he was becoming too satisfied with himself, congratulating himself on winning the king's favor, the words of his recent pledge came back to hang over him. His smile faltered, and the young elf found himself staring up at the ceiling, the weight from before returning with intensity. He had sworn allegiance to King Thingol.

Forever.

Forever was a long time, and it sent a chill down the young elf's back. Once more, his mind was assaulted with doubts. His father had been so happy when Thranduil had decided to follow in Oropher's footsteps, but that had never been what the blond had wanted. He had only wished to please his father― and he had. But at what cost?

Rolling over onto his stomach, hugging his pillow, resting his chin on it, Thranduil frowned at nothing. Could he really do this? Could he serve King Thingol forever? Be nothing but one of his personal guards? Do the same thing day in and day out, standing behind the throne, not moving, for hours at a time all day every day? Could he bite his tongue and keep his opinions to himself? Could he really allow himself to waste away within the walls of Doriath, never to see the outside world?

The thought terrified him. Ever since he'd been a child Thranduil had dreamed of more, of a world beyond his home. But now he had solidified his confinement. He'd killed what little freedom he'd had ever had once pledging himself to the king. Now that he was in the service of the king, he would never be able to do as he wished. His movements, his actions, his words, would now be monitored strictly, a reflection upon the king himself. He would have to do whatever the king wanted, be whatever the king wanted, and he would have no say in the matter.

This would not do. Sitting up, Thranduil walked back out into the main living area, intent on finding his mother. If there was anyone who could distract him from such gloomy, heart-breaking thoughts, it would be her. And so, helping her prepare for the evening, the young ellon pushed aside his doubts and fear to instead focus on the frivolous, not wishing to spoil what had been such a triumphant day.

Forever could wait. For now he would enjoy himself. And maybe things weren't as hopeless as they now appeared...

Author's Note: I know I'll sound a little hipster, but I always loved Thranduil even before the Hobbit movies came out. I loved the mystery behind him, and pretty well filled in my own history for him, which, believe it or not, the movies actually lined up pretty well with some of my head cannons. This is going to be the history of Thranduil, and how he became the way he is often seen—bitter, a bit cruel, and dangerous. This will be my attempt to reconcile the books, movies, and my own head cannons, so let's see how it goes!

This story will slap you upside the face with a lot of Tolkien history, events meticulously studied and reviewed in order to complement and enhance my own ideas. More will be explained throughout the story, so don't worry.

So, we know that Oropher and Celeborn are cousins somehow, and that Celeborn was the great nephew of Thingol. So, I made Oropher a great nephew of Thingol by making his grandmother Thingol's sister. It's not recorded that Thingol had a sister, but since Tolkien sometimes leaves out certain women, I made up one. My reasoning for having Oropher be 'royal' will come up later.

I can see a young Thranduil being quite arrogant and full of himself and being doted on by his parents. I can't help but like him, even if he is a bit of a brat.

Reviews and feedback will be greatly appreciated!