"Eithryn, you will feel much better if you eat something."
Sky wrinkled her nose at the toast in front of her. "I don't think I will."
"And which of us is the expert in hangovers?"
"If yours were like this, you wouldn't have had more than one." She shoved her plate across the table and stomped off, pausing before she disappeared to lean on the doorframe for a moment so she wouldn't fall over.
. . . . . .
"Hello, Taensirion," Thranduil said as he came across the other Sindar half an hour later.
"Ah, Thranduil, I was looking for you. Do you know why your father has a black eye this morning?"
The prince's eyes went wide, and he gulped, smiled nervously, and set off for his father's office to make sure Oropher still had his sense of humor from the previous night.
Taensirion was left alone with his many new theories.
. . . . . .
When he returned home that night, Thranduil was concerned to find the bedroom door closed, and Galion confirmed that he had not seen Eithryn much that day, and was certain she had not eaten anything. The prince was careful to be quiet as he pushed the door open and made his way to the bed. "Eithryn?" he murmured.
The lump under the covers groaned. "I hope you die. Painfully."
"Perhaps you should be quieter next time I have a hangover," Thranduil suggested dryly.
"No, I'm really going to enjoy making as much noise as I can."
Thranduil noted that never before had pain totally removed her ability to empathize. "I did try to help..."
"Go away before I hurt you."
Thranduil probably should have done so, but he continued, "You would have felt much better if you had—"
. . . . . .
All things considered, Oropher was not surprised to find his son at his door that evening. "May I stay here tonight?" Thranduil asked. "My wife is... rather unhappy with me."
Oropher smirked and held the door open. "Your nose is bleeding."
"And your eye is purple and black."
This, I am sure, was neither the first nor the last time Thranduil got kicked out of the house.