The silence in the healing chamber settled. Oropher, with his eyes closed, was more acutely aware of Harune's presence. The elf spoke.

"I do not know what you deem a father to son relationship," Harune said.

"No doubt your entire family tree has its own narrow definition!" Oropher replied forcefully. His blue eyes flared open, rankled by Harune's even voice.

Harune smiled. "On the contrary, my king, my grandfather firmly believed there was nothing a firm spanking could not solve."

"Indeed?"

"The cycle breaking began with my father," Harune replied. "I was, I understand, a relatively easy child to raise until curiosity set in. I lit a fire in a basin in my room. My father was furious when he discovered it and was quite determined to spank me for the first time. He sent me to fetch a switch. I brought back a rock, thinking it did not matter what he hurt me with since every trust I had in him was about to be shattered.

"I watched my father make a choice that day. Many times he had told me he loved me, but he proved it by deciding trust and connection were more important to him than hurting me to impress a lesson. When I became a father, I knew what I treasured in my relationship with my parents, and I knew how I wanted to teach my children."

"My parents often came to see as a child," Oropher said. "It was enough for me. I did not expect more."

"I always imagined your childhood was quite akin to the time you spent with Thranduil as he grew," Harune replied. "It was never appropriate to inquire."

"It was. I was never permitted for form any attachment to those who looked after me. I knew from birth who my parents were and who my obligations were towards."

In his sleep, Thranduil shifted a little and winced. His eyelids fluttered before settling.

"I could have denied Thranduil the love and connection and kindness he needed," Harune said. "In fact, after he called me ada, I . . . thought about leaving and never coming back. I foresaw the rift ahead."

"You stayed," Oropher said bitterly.

"I could not go," Harune said softly. He looked down. "He cried himself to sleep in my lap. I saw the rift sure to come, but I also saw what would happen if I left. I could not bear the agony of walking away and leaving Thranduil to the unkind and rigid hands of those who would replace me. I thought—here is a chance to change what Mirkwood is becoming. Here is a chance to introduce kindness and compassion and gentleness into the home I cherish."

"I could call you a usurper," Oropher said. "But I admit I . . . allowed you to stay."

"My intention was not to raise Thranduil to be a usurper or traitor," Harune said. Force crept into his voice. "I wanted only to teach him as I had taught my children, to give him the necessary skills and encouragement to grow into who he is, not what society wanted him to be."

"Natelle did not want children," Oropher said. His voice floated away. "Neither did I. She hated children. She hated what . . . pregnancy did to her body. But we both had a duty to provide an heir. We did our duty." He blinked. Stared at the ceiling. "I . . . did not care enough about Thranduil to trouble myself with dismissing you when I too sensed the rift ahead."

Harune sighed. "I am sorry, my king, that the crown forced so much upon you."

"In a way, I expected Thranduil to go from an elfling to a responsible and dutiful heir. I expected him to be perfect. I expected him to be to me what I was to my father."

"I know."

Oropher looked toward Harune. Twin tears stung his eyes. "Does it hurt? Is there not a hole where she used to be?"

Harune raised a slender hand to his heart. "Yes. It is a wide and gaping hole. Sapphire was—is—so much a part of me, her absence cuts. I grieve for her every single day, but I cannot begrudge her passing. She died doing what she believed in. There is—no better way to die." His voice cracked. "I miss her."

"I cannot seem to hate you."

"Is that a crime? I do not hate," Harune said hoarsely, lifting a handkerchief to his blue eyes. "But I admit I have often disliked and harbored resentment towards you each time you have hurt Thranduil."

"I wonder—if the hole heals."

Harune drew in a deep breath. "I do not know, my king. I know I will always miss Sapphire, honor her, and cherish her memory. It is not enough, I know, but it is all I can do. I have to open my heart to love if I want to move forward without . . . breaking myself."

"You have people to love. I do not think . . . I have anyone left."

A smile spread across Harune's face. "You have one person left, at least. As my father said, even if you have been turning right at every intersection in your life, it is never too late to start turning left."

Oropher looked down at Thranduil sleep with a hand under his cheek. He lifted a hand and carefully pushed a thick strand of blond hair off the prince's forehead. He thought perhaps Harune was right. He did not admit it. He did not admit he did not know how to turn left. He suspected Harune read his thoughts in the air.

The door cracked open and Nimrethil peeked in. She cleared her throat and advanced into the room bearing a tray. "My king, I regret my earlier insensitivity towards your situation. With as much compassion as I can muster, I have cooked this meal especially for you. I consulted your personal chef on the matter and understand it is a personal favorite."

Oropher looked at the tray. Under the blankets his hands and body clenched. Buttered oysters swimming in clear sauce. Garlic bread. A heaping salad doused in white herb dressing. Chocolate curls atop a crusty, flaking pastry.

Natelle sprang into his mind. Her teeth popped a tomato. She was laughing, smiling at him, tipping her head of glossy hair back.

She was still with him. Not in body, but still present.

Unknowingly Oropher turned left at an intersection he did not see. He tried to sit up and winced. Harune came quietly and offered a hand.

"You may still be trying to poison me," Oropher said haughtily, as he sat back against the pillows Harune heaped behind me. "But I accept your peace offering."

"Lovely!" Nimrethil exclaimed. She pranced into the room, timidity gone, and placed the heaping tray over Oropher's lap. "The poison is in the pastry, but you will love it, nonetheless. Your personal chef was decidedly unclear and very rude to me—I resent his attitude—and I did not know from his jumbled talk if you preferred red or white wine, or the nasty looking liquid he tried to convince me was your drink of choice for this dish, hence I have brought nothing and demand your choice. My king," she added.

Oropher narrowed his frosty blue eyes at her. "Bring me a glass of moonflower cordial and cream."

"The nasty liquid," Nimrethil mused, and rushed out of the room.

Oropher looked at Harune standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back. The elf turned at his glance.

"My condolences on Sapphire's passing," Oropher said. The words cost him. Truth stung, but it healed a little more.

Harune's gentle, grieving eyes glowed quietly. "Thank you, my king."

Sleepily, Thranduil stirred. His eyes flicked open and met Oropher's looking down. He stretched hesitantly and slowly sat up.

"Nimrethil's servings are beyond my capacity," Oropher said, after thought. "Perhaps you would like to share."

Thranduil's eyes lit up. "Gladly, my king."

It brought me great joy to write this, a chapter of healing.

Thank you kindly for reading; your suggestions and comments are graciously welcomed!

Dear Guest: Regrettably, it is FanFiction that does not allow the a logged-in user to post more than one review to the same chapter, else I would turn it off. I am honored you find my writing evocative enough to call you back, despite my ideas not aligning completely with the historical accuracy of Tolkien's beautiful and rich world. I started writing to offer a different perspective on characters (namely Thranduil and Elrond) that were beginning to fall into molds within the fan fiction community, so I am a little disappointed in myself for treating Oropher so roughly!

I love that you share the origins of Oropher's start as King; he is an inspiring and richly woven individual. In My Prince, the one creative liberty I have taken that has formed Oropher into the not-historically-accurate character he is, is to have made Oropher not the founder of Mirkwood, but a descendant of the Sindar elves who founded the vast and beautiful Kingdom. Hence, Oropher's ancestors are the kindly and inspiring elves whom the Silvan elves chose as their King, not Oropher. This makes sense to me as a way to portray Oropher differently but within the realm of reason and in keeping with the 'history' I have created in writing my Nin Chronicles series. Admittedly, I am not a traditional fan fiction writer, so when so little is known about a character from Middle Earth, I begin to enjoy changing and reimagining things.

Also, I agree absolutely! Elves are the world's best and most beautiful, respectful gentle parents, which is one more reason I am an elf lover. I wish more of their kindness and compassion and rejection of things like spanking and violence in teaching children is something more or our world would adapt to. For the sake of the story, though, I have given the elves too a learning curve.

I love thoughts in all forms, so thank you so much for sharing your thoughts on My Prince's story arc, as well as posing some interesting questions and historical backstory! I hope I have answered your inquiries and I am always open for further discussion. Also, I am delighted you have enjoyed the Benders Saga so much! Thank you for reading; your presence is encouraging.

Happy to hear back from you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)

Next Chapter: Further healing.