Thranduil scrunched his chin onto his knees and wrapped his arms around them. He hunched his back, but small roots and crumbles of dirt still tickled the back of his neck.

"Thranduil!" Harune's voice brought a glimmer of light into the crevice but Thranduil could not look up without bumping his head. His tailbone dug into the ground and he shifted, wincing as a shower of dirt peppered his blond hair.

Harune's feet appeared at the small entrance Thranduil had wriggled through, his boots peeking out from under the hem of his green robe. Thranduil held his breath but Harune's face appeared as his father dropped to his hands and knees and peered at him.

"This is not safe, Thranduil," Harune said. "Oropher grows angry when you run away."

Thranduil pressed his chin to his knees. "He tried to hit me again."

Harune sighed and shifted to lie on his stomach. "Oh, ion nin."

"I cannot face him, ada," Thranduil whispered. "He is bigger then me, and he does not listen."

"I listen," Harune said. his blue eyes betrayed a sliver of hurt. "There is a reason I am here."

Heat seeped into his cheeks. Thranduil tried to look away but bumped against the wall instead. As Harune's eyes steadied on him, Thranduil slid forward and ducked out under the low overhang of the crevice's mouth. He squirmed to free his shoulders and tumbled onto the mossy forest floor. He glimpsed the sky through the scattered spring foliage budding on the trees above him.

"I am sorry, ada," Thranduil said. "Maybe I—I feel weak running to you every time Oropher tries to hurt me."

Thranduil sat up. Harune sat close enough to him to reach out and brush the dirt off Thranduil's head. Thranduil smiled at the touch and ducked his head to make Harune's hand slid across his cheek.

"Oropher says it is weak of me to run to you," Thranduil admitted. "I did not want to prove him right."

Harune snorted and clasped his hands in his lap. "Let the king think what he lies. We both know what is true. What happened?"

"You know I do not like meeting with him," Thranduil complained. "He tried to slap me, but I ducked. When his face turned red, I ran."

Harune nodded and one of his brown braids came loose to slap his nose. As he brushed it back, Harune stood. "Come, Thranduil, it is almost noon."

Harune's green robe matched the fresh moss Thranduil sat on, long enough to hide his boots but short enough he never tripped on it when he walked. Wide, welcoming sleeves contrasted with the high collar at Harune's neck, but his cheekbones curved smoothly below his blue eyes, always ready to stretch gently when he smiled. Above his eyes, his eyebrows rested like hawk wings in flight.

Thranduil came to Harune's waist when he stood but never found his father's shadow intimidating. He knew the embrace of Harune's strong arms and the caress of his cool hands. He knew the comfort of Harune's shoulders and the steady beat of his heart.

Harune rested his arm around Thranduil's shoulders as the two elves walked, following a spindly deer trail in the forest floor back toward the main path. The deep green of Mirkwood in summer was paler now, as leaves budded and opened in the spring air smelling of damp soil. Grass grew alongside the path, but underbrush thickly covered the forest floor where no feet walked. The elves passed a few cottages tucked back behind trees with small lawns before them.

Too soon the path linked into a wider road made by horses' hooves, which linked into yet a wider strip of hardpacked dirt. The dark shapes of the trees thinned out and sunlight turned the light yellow.

A wall rose up; an abrupt wall of grey stone partly hidden under a veil of ivy leaves crawling between the cracks in the rocks.

Thranduil's smile faded. Behind and above the wrought iron gate rudely shut where the path ended, the first tops of the palace rose. Light wood trimmed with darker eves and window boxes of flowers marked the upper windows, while latticing and moss hung heavy at the roof's edges.

Harune squeezed Thranduil's shoulders as the two stood in the shadow of an oak tree between two of its curling roots. Thranduil nudged old acorns with his boot.

"Why do I have to live here?" Thranduil asked.

"You are the heir of Mirkwood," Harune replied. "This is your home."

Thranduil thought of the wide halls guarded by elves who might as well be statues; only their eyes moved when he ran past. "I would rather live in a small house with only the trees for a wall."

Harune looked up at the spikes running along the top of the wall ahead. Though half-hidden under ivy, the black metal still glared at him. "Some things I can convince Oropher to do and some things I cannot."

As Thranduil stepped onto the path leading to the wrought-iron gate, the hollow notes of a horn sounded and the gate opened for him, leading into a vast garden. White pebbled paths snaked between hedges of trimmed bushes putting out green buds and beds of flowers, their green shoots peeking out from under the damp soil. Fountains trickling with rainwater played their songs with the birds, and alcoves hid benches and bowers where the court ladies often sat and picnicked.

Thranduil had barely passed the first bed of roses when a voice rang out. His hands clenched at the sound, but he turned around. In the corner of his eye, the gate shut and he shuddered, reassured by Harune's presence behind him.

Two stone pillars with a slab of stone over top of them provided shade for a stone bench. Without a back, the bench's solid legs sat embedded in the earth, twined with moss. An elf rose from the seat and snapped, "Where have you been?"

Thranduil swallowed. "I went into the forest to calm down, my king."

The elf stepped closer, his white robe gathering in angry swirls at his ankles. "Ada. I am your ada!"

"I will not call you father!" Thranduil shouted. "You are not my father!"

Oropher's blue eyes turned two shades darker and he flung out his arms, his boots leaving prints in the pebbles behind him as he strode forward. "You grew from my seed. You are my son, my heir to all of Mirkwood. You will wear my crown!"

Thranduil steadied himself, centering his feet in Harune's shadow. "I may have grown from your seed, but you thrust me away! You do not tuck me into bed at night and tell me stories. You do not share breakfasts and lunches with me, nor swim in the river come summer and climb trees come fall. You did not teach me to ride. Harune did all of that and—"

"Harune!" roared Oropher. "Is your nanny!"

"Harune is my father!" Thranduil shot back.

Oropher's blond eyebrows climbed up his forehead an almost touched his hairline. His eyes flared open. "Look at yourself. Look at me. You—"

Thranduil shrank back as Oropher grabbed Harune's arm and jerked the elf to stand beside him. Oropher's orange-blond hair danced with the sun's reflection as the light played down the tight braid lying over Oropher's shoulder. Thranduil's hair flowed loose down his back, a joyous tangle of braids that has escaped their fastenings, but the color was the same as Oropher's. From the angular chin to the delicate cheekbones, to the blue of his eyes and the upswept point of his ears, Thranduil knew he resembled the king. Only his shoulders and arms and legs spoke of his mother's lithe form.

Thranduil blinked at the tears in his eyes. "I do not care if I look like you. I wish—I wish I looked nothing like you! I do not want to be your son."

"I never want to hear you speak like this again," Oropher said. his head dipped down, casting shadow under his eyes. "And I never want to learn you have left the palace again. It is dangerous beyond the wall."

"There is no forest inside the wall," Thranduil answered. He bowed. "My king."

"Stop mocking me. Leave Harune and I and go inside. I do not want to see your face until sunset! Rest assured you will be punished."

Thranduil's jaw trembled. "I do not care." He whirled, grinding a hole into the pathway with his heel, and fled past triplet stone fountains and a trellis of honeysuckle. He left the garden behind and dashed up the steps to the front doors of the palace. Though the doors he went. The halls smelled of spring flowers, but the smell only brushed his nostrils as he ran past the statue-like guards and slammed the door to his bedchamber shut behind him.

Thranduil's chest heaved as he stumbled to his bed and flopped down on his stomach. He shut his eyes and whispered, "Oh, ada, I am so confused!"

Welcome, dear readers, to Nin Chronicles: My Prince. I am so excited to be embarking on a new journey with you all, so be sure to drop me a note to let me know who, new and old, is reading!

I went into this tale expecting the story of Thranduil's youth to be grim, but I have found there are pockets of sunshine hiding throughout! Bless Harune and his stalwart presence. And, as I write each new chapter, this story grows on me. I hope it grows on you to.

Next Chapter (coming to you weekly on Thursdays): Thranduil is punished. But not in the way he expected.