p dir="ltr"Mereth e-nGilith was one of many feasts Thranduil was cursed with overseeing. He might've enjoyed himself if it weren't forced upon him. Or if his wife was still by his side./p
p dir="ltr"When the night had gone on long enough that it was suitable for him to retire, Thranduil returned to his chambers. His long robes dragged behind him, making contact with the stone floor audibly, yet so lightly that he was sure they would appear freshly washed even after the long walk./p
p dir="ltr"He thought of nothing as he walked. A purposeful nothing. He reached the door to his chambers and reached for the handle. He paused and let his hand hover. Why should he enter? Entering his chambers was no different than entering any other room. It was dull and matched his clothes perfectly./p
p dir="ltr"It never used to be. It used to be adorned with ancient scrolls on hand-carved shelves, bright curtains, ornate statues, and beautiful artwork that took its painter a century to complete. It hadn't felt right to keep things that way when there was no one to share the space with. He parted with pieces one at a time until there was nothing left but a blank, dull room./p
p dir="ltr"Thranduil had no intention of replacing anything but there were some days where he didn't want to see the empty rooms. They were a reminder of why they were empty./p
p dir="ltr"He let his hand drop and, as it did, he gripped the handle and swung the door open. The room in front of him, one of many in his chambers, hadn't changed while he had been performing his duties as the Elvenking. It hadn't changed in centuries. It was like Thranduil, frozen in time./p
p dir="ltr"The sound of something metal falling to the floor rang through the open-sided halls, shocking Thranduil back into the moment. He took a deep breath and let himself close his eyes, taking a moment to try and shake the numbness that overwhelmed him, and stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. /p
p dir="ltr"With the thick wooden door closed, the echoes of the Kingdom's celebration and footsteps and the cacophony of sounds everpresent to elven ears were silenced. As with all of his kind, Thranduil could tune out these noises when he wanted. They were a constant, like the sound of one's own heartbeat or breath. Never gone, but only noticeable when they're at the front of one's mind. /p
p dir="ltr"On nights like this, when he made himself think of nothing to survive, there was an empty place that the sounds slid into. He could not tune it out. He could only try to ignore it. Like trying to ignore anything with no distraction, he could not. It was these nights that the reminder his rooms served was the most painful, yet they were his only escape from the noise./p
p dir="ltr"With silence surrounding him at last, it was a little easier to stay present, to move. He made himself walk across the room to... He didn't know where. In the centre of the room, he paused, realising that there was nowhere in this room or any other that he wanted to be. /p
p dir="ltr"Where do I want to be? He thought to himself. It was the first conscious thought he'd had in some time. Since he was still at the feast. The turning of corners and the opening and closing of doors had been done mindlessly, by a part of his mind that he was not aware of./p
p dir="ltr"He thought long and hard, trying to answer his own question. He could conjure no answer. Well, no answer that made sense./p
p dir="ltr"He wanted to see the dwarf./p
p dir="ltr"When the night had gone on long enough that it was suitable for him to retire, Thranduil returned to his chambers. His long robes dragged behind him, making contact with the stone floor audibly, yet so lightly that he was sure they would appear freshly washed even after the long walk./p
p dir="ltr"He thought of nothing as he walked. A purposeful nothing. He reached the door to his chambers and reached for the handle. He paused and let his hand hover. Why should he enter? Entering his chambers was no different than entering any other room. It was dull and matched his clothes perfectly./p
p dir="ltr"It never used to be. It used to be adorned with ancient scrolls on hand-carved shelves, bright curtains, ornate statues, and beautiful artwork that took its painter a century to complete. It hadn't felt right to keep things that way when there was no one to share the space with. He parted with pieces one at a time until there was nothing left but a blank, dull room./p
p dir="ltr"Thranduil had no intention of replacing anything but there were some days where he didn't want to see the empty rooms. They were a reminder of why they were empty./p
p dir="ltr"He let his hand drop and, as it did, he gripped the handle and swung the door open. The room in front of him, one of many in his chambers, hadn't changed while he had been performing his duties as the Elvenking. It hadn't changed in centuries. It was like Thranduil, frozen in time./p
p dir="ltr"The sound of something metal falling to the floor rang through the open-sided halls, shocking Thranduil back into the moment. He took a deep breath and let himself close his eyes, taking a moment to try and shake the numbness that overwhelmed him, and stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him. /p
p dir="ltr"With the thick wooden door closed, the echoes of the Kingdom's celebration and footsteps and the cacophony of sounds everpresent to elven ears were silenced. As with all of his kind, Thranduil could tune out these noises when he wanted. They were a constant, like the sound of one's own heartbeat or breath. Never gone, but only noticeable when they're at the front of one's mind. /p
p dir="ltr"On nights like this, when he made himself think of nothing to survive, there was an empty place that the sounds slid into. He could not tune it out. He could only try to ignore it. Like trying to ignore anything with no distraction, he could not. It was these nights that the reminder his rooms served was the most painful, yet they were his only escape from the noise./p
p dir="ltr"With silence surrounding him at last, it was a little easier to stay present, to move. He made himself walk across the room to... He didn't know where. In the centre of the room, he paused, realising that there was nowhere in this room or any other that he wanted to be. /p
p dir="ltr"Where do I want to be? He thought to himself. It was the first conscious thought he'd had in some time. Since he was still at the feast. The turning of corners and the opening and closing of doors had been done mindlessly, by a part of his mind that he was not aware of./p
p dir="ltr"He thought long and hard, trying to answer his own question. He could conjure no answer. Well, no answer that made sense./p
p dir="ltr"He wanted to see the dwarf./p