A small knock on Thranduil's door had him looking up from his book.
"Come in," he called. The door quivered, opened a little bit, as if the hinges were rusted metal. Then it fell shut for a moment. Finally, it swung open and a small blur dashed inside before it could shut again.
The blur solidified into a small child about three years old, dressed in a simple, scoop necked blue gray tunic that went to her knees. There was a gray silk belt about her waist, the ends of it going between her leather clad legs. She wore no slippers, preferring bare feet.
Wide, storm grey eyes looked out from a heart shaped face framed by mahogany waves. Two braids at her temples kept most of it out of her vision. She approached with swift steps taken with the balls of her feet, for she was faster that way. She laid a hand on his knee as he leaned forward to better hear whatever she had to say.
"Ada," she said, voice naturally husky, even for a girl-child. "Will you come outside with me?" She tilted her head. Thranduil's allowed his lips to tug into a small smile.
"What do you wish to do outside, penneth?" he replied.
"I was hoping you'd maybe come outside and listen to me play my flute," she said, eyes hopeful.
"Bring your flute, Lissë," he used the nickname he'd given her when he accepted her as daughter. "We have time enough, today." She beamed at him, pretty white teeth lighting up her whole face.
"Okay," she replied. "Will you wait for me at the garden door?" He nodded and she dashed off to get her flute. He stood and marked his page before heading for the garden where he waited at the door and looked outside.
It was sunny and a faint breeze blew. No wonder she wanted to spend time with him outside. He turned when he heard the pattering of bare feet. Erulissë had her ivory flute in her hands and she was bright eyed and eager.
"Come on, Ada," she grabbed his hand and pulled him outside to her favorite spot underneath a cedar tree. They both sat, and she bargain picking long stemmed daisies. She showed him how to weave them together, saying he should have a flower crown as well as the wooden one. Then she played an old song that was often used to soothe frightened or sad things.
Thranduil's long fingers deftly wove a crown, but it was far too small for his head. He placed it on hers instead, ice blue eyes smiling at her when she gasped in delight. The hours passed quietly enough, brightened by sun, a certain penneth's tinkling laughter, and the Elvenking's deep voice speaking soft words instead of the sharp barbs reserved for Dwarves and those who tested his patience.
Thranduil's and Erulissë spend the day together. At this point, she has the body of a seven year old, but the mind of an twenty year old.
Ada ~ Dad, shortened from Adar which means Father.
Penneth ~ Small One
Tinuamin ~ My Daughter