The lights of Spring were starting to dawn upon the forest of Greenwood the Great, announcing the end of the winter that had been terrorizing the elves for months. With the new season, the fresh air and bright light also came the excitement of the younger elves to go outside.

Amongst those was Thranduil, prince of the realm. He had already strapped on his belt, his sword hanging from it, and was now making ready to leave for the forest. His pack was nearly done when there was a cough behind him. The young ellon froze, not turning around.

"And where to do you think you're going?" a voice asked behind him.

Thranduil would've muttered several profanities if it weren't for the person that had now entered his room. "I was merely…"

"Packing, by the looks of it."

"Adar, it is Spring! I wish to enjoy the sun and the wilds once again," he replied, turning around to face Oropher. The man didn't look exceptionally pleased with him. "Gin iallon, adar. I promise I'll be careful."

The man shook his head lightly and his hands remained behind his back, his posture tall and stiff like a tree. "You know why I will not allow you to go, iôn nin."

"I understand that it is dangerous, adar, but-"

"Do you understand though? Sometimes I am not sure if you do, Thranduil. It is a different world out there. One that you are not ready for yet. I will not have you go out into the wild," the man said. His voice left no room for arguments. "Now, I wish for you to get dressed. There are visitors coming. Silvan elves. You as Prince will be greeting them with me."

"Ben iest gîn, adar," Thranduil grumbled as he undid the belt.

The man looked at him one last time before leaving the room. The Prince kept grumbling to himself as he undid his armor and changed into a silver tunic. He didn't care in the slightest about the visitors. He'd rather be out in the wild than inside listening to the politic-influenced talks.

As soon as he was ready, he stepped out of his room. He'd taken out the warrior-braids, allowing his gold-lit hair to fall freely over his shoulders. Thranduil let out a breath of air as he wandered through the halls, not paying any attention to the people around him. Finally he joined his father in the throne room.

The man was now seated on the throne, his crown resting on top of his head. Father and son were alike in many ways. People often said that Thranduil was Oropher's spitting image, with the stubbornness doubled. It seemed to run in their family's blood, they said.

As the doors of the throne room flung open, both the King's and the Prince's head flicked up. A crowd of people entered, a tall and slender elf leading them. The Silvan and Sindar often visited each other and helped one another out. Unlike with the Noldor from Imladris, the two seemed more akin than any others.

They all dipped into a courtesy before the King and Prince and Thranduil's eyes caught those of a young elven lady amongst the crowd. She immediately lowered hers, though for the moment that they'd looked at each other there had been something interesting in her and he tilted his head slightly. Perhaps it could still be an interesting Spring.

Bibliography:

Ellon – male elf

Gin iallon, adar – I beg of you, father

Adar – father

iôn nin – my son

Ben iest gîn, adar - as you wish, father