Demons
I wanna shelter you
Thorin woke up in the middle of the night. He didn't remember how he got there or what had happened or how much time he had been there either… He sat up and his head started spinning. His palm instinctively grabbed on the pillow in an attempt to steady himself. Something cracked faintly under the pillow. Concentrating and making sure his eyesight and balance were able to work with him in this, he sat at the edge of the bed and searched under his pillow until he found a small piece of paper. He unfolded it and realizing it was a small note he took the lit candle beside his bed and started reading.
'Thorin,
Prince of Erebor,
I am sorry that it came to this but since you are unconscious for three whole days now and finally tired of avoiding your grandfather I had to attend to other urgent business at my kingdom. Talk to your mother. You will see me soon.
The Elven King of Mirkwood,
Thranduil'
There it was… and Thorin couldn't believe it… He read the small note many times but he couldn't find it in himself to throw it away with anger or disappointment. What kind of a goodbye was that? Thorin read it again and again while two fingers were playing with the curls of his hair nervously. Thranduil was calling him Prince. Was this ironic? He couldn't know… He surely wasn't a Prince… Not anymore… His grandfather's mood hadn't improved… Not in the slightest. Plus Thranduil had promised him to stay a few more days in order to decide what was going on between them and what they should do. Now Thorin felt hurt and slightly betrayed. How the Elven King dared to give him orders on what to do next was another matter. What talk-to-your-mother was supposed to mean? Talk to his mother about what exactly? Was she supposed to help him figure out what was going on? Well if this was Thranduil's plan, it couldn't possibly work, and Thorin was burning again but not from fever. As for the you-will-see-me-soon promise… Thorin knew that nowadays his grandfather invited the Elves a little less than once a year! How was Thorin supposed to see the Elf soon? But still he couldn't throw the paper away or do anything else, but hold it in front of his eyes… or against his beating heart…
Knowing that no answer would come to his questions even if he shouted them in all the halls of Erebor he lied back to his bed and sighed with the note folded neatly inside his fist, resting above his chest… His eyes found the ceiling that stared back through the darkness and as he could not sleep anymore he started thinking of what had happened and caused him to fall unconscious, what had occurred in these three days and if it had something to do with Thranduil calling him a Prince. At some point he unfolded the note again and read it so many times that Thranduil's writing style was imprinted in the inside of his eyelids. At least there was one thing he could understand personally… Although it sounded insulting. The need for the Elven King to avoid his grandfather was purely understood and respected from the point where Thorin stood at the moment… the same point he was standing for more than two years now…
The Dwarven Prince sighed and closed his eyes until finally an uneasy sleep came to help him pass the time, up to the point when the sun dawned from somewhere opposite the general direction of the Woodland realm…
Thranduil was standing sleepless at his window observing the sun rising from the east… His mind overwhelmed with worry… He hadn't predicted it would take so long for Thorin to wake up… Eventually he had to leave for his realm as murmurs spread through Erebor that King Thranduil had almost forgotten the insult of the Dwarven King for something else entirely… Nobody knew what that something was, but many pry eyes would seek and were more than eager to find out… Sooner or later their search might come to an end… So the Elven King left Erebor against his will… He hoped the note wasn't too bold but he hadn't the time to compose a whole letter nor he dared to, for something like that could easily be detected by the clever eyes of the Queen… Although Thranduil trusted her… and that's why he urged Thorin to speak with her… He hoped she would explain only what was necessary for the Young Prince to understand…
'Ada?' the Elven King was so focused on his thoughts that the light footsteps of his son approaching had gone unnoticed by his Elvish ears. He turned and smiled wearily at the young Elf in front of him and he received a worried glance in return.
'I am alright, Legolas…' he rushed to reassure with a sigh and a slight roll of his eyes. His son was always so protective over him but he didn't usually show it so openly. This protectiveness was mutual and not only because of the father and son relationship. It was mainly because they shared more than the elegant and strong appearance of their bodies or the colour of their eyes. They shared a loss… The loss of Legolas' mother… When the King of the Woodland Realm would dare to observe his son's hair, his bearing, his gentle movements with the bow, the light of his eyes when he spoke… He was always reminded of her… Legolas was used to this look by now and he received it as fatherly love but now… Now the grey eyes passed through him and fell to the floor thoughtfully without any emotional change… And that's what worried him the most… Truth be told Thranduil had his thoughts fixed on something or someone else entirely… And his eyes longed to gaze at only one person… Or rather… one particular dwarf…
'Adar… What troubles you?' Legolas approached his father carefully with a serious tone this time… He once thought his father's parting was close… That the time for him to become King and to wave his goodbye to his father who would leave for the Grey Heavens was drawing near… Legolas was always shadowed by grief at this thought… But then suddenly something had changed into his father's eyes… There was a sparkle in them Legolas had never noticed before… That's why these last few decades Legolas was even more protective over him. His heart rejoiced as his father had chosen to remain with him, no matter what his reasons were, but the Young Elf Prince was often lost in thought trying to find out what had changed him… Never receiving any answers… And now his father was acting even more strangely… In a way Legolas couldn't interpret at all…
'Nothing troubles me, ion nin...' Thranduil spoke shaking his head slightly, sceptical, not noticing his son's glare…
'Adar… You are being thoughtful, you didn't eat or sleep but you say you are well since we returned…?' Legolas insisted.
'I am just thinking…' Thranduil turned to look at the sun once more and steadied himself at the parapet with his hair, golden in the rising sun, run free like sunrays around him…
'About what happened there…?' the tone was soft, his son's eyes falling towards the mountain, yet the Elven King sighed and played with the idea of telling his son the truth… Finally a small inclination with his head and his son was right beside him… 'Father… Do you still go to it? Do you still remember the path?'
'I do remember… How could I ever forget…? But I have given up on visiting a long time ago… Dwarves might see… Dwarves might find it… I was telling to myself that if I stopped going… It would stay buried forever…' now the proud head of the Elven King was hanging in front of him in defeat… He had finally realized what had really happened in those stony halls… He had finally accepted it… The Young Dwarf Prince had kept his mind occupied all these days that the Elven King didn't even think about what had happened seriously… Now… There was nothing left to do… He could not protect what was his anymore… His sacred heart…
'That's why you didn't ever take me there… Not even once…' Legolas whispered, fighting the instinct of placing a comforting hand over his father's shoulders…
'Yes…' his father nodded…his voice fading…
Silence fell between them and the sun kept rising until the clouds high above them blocked its light… The forest fell silent as well and a soft drizzling rain started to fall on the already weeping trees…
Elvish translations:
Adar = Father
Ion nin= my Son