Thranduil hunched between the pillows and the headboard of his bed, burying his face in Harune's rust-colored dressing gown. It was all he had left of his father and it still smelled of cherries and roses. The cloth grew damp between his hands as he sobbed. The downy mattress failed to dull the throb in his behind, squeezing further tears out of his eyes.
A fist hammered on his bedroom door. "Prince Thranduil? Open up by order of the king."
Thranduil curled closer to the headboard, his back tired and taunt from a sleepless night and treated the elves outside the door to cold silence. The pounding grew louder.
"Not hungry!" Thranduil yelled before his voice cracked. He heard footsteps recede.
The window threw light into the deepest corners of the room but left his face in shadows. He snuffled before he heard the voice return.
"Prince Thranduil, I am sorry, but I have orders to break down the door if you do not cooperate."
Thranduil shut his eyes. A gurgled laugh broke free of him. "Do it!" He held Harune's robe to his face and waited.
The door crashed to the floor and feet tromped to the bed. Shadows laced across him and Thranduil shivered.
"I do not want to hurt you," said the voice.
Thranduil shook his head. The pain of his tangled hair jerked in knots was nothing compared the rough hands that grabbed his shoulders. He clung to the headboard and screamed, "Let go!"
"The king requires your presence at breakfast," the voice pleaded. "Be reasonable."
"I hate him. I hate him!" Thranduil howled. Harune's robe slipped off the bed. "He took ada away."
The elven servants dragged him off the bed. Thranduil took half the sheets and pillows with him to the floor as he clawed for a handhold.
"I do not want to see him," Thranduil sobbed.
"You are in shock, my prince. You will feel better after a hot bath and a meal."
Thranduil curled on the cold floor. "No. I want to die."
The two pairs of hands prodding him stopped. The voice said, "My prince, Valar be cursed by such dark wishes! You are our future."
Thranduil stifled a guttural whimper. "You do not understand. I cannot have a future without ada. There is no one else who—"
Thranduil broke off and stiffened as Oropher's voice demanded, "What is this? Are my wife and I expected to wait for you to do your job?"
The voice apologized. "Forgive me, my king, but the prince refuses to cooperate. He fights us every step of the way."
Thranduil heard Oropher advance into the room. "I asked you to bring me my son. What could be simpler?"
"Forgive me, my king." Thranduil watched the servant bow from the corner of his eye.
Oropher's feet poked into Thranduil's vision. He shied back against the bed, afraid of a kick. "Get up," Oropher demanded. "You are not a rat or a street urchin. This is undignified."
Thranduil turned into the heap of sheets on the floor, covering his head with his hands. He yowled as Oropher twisted his ear; the pain forced him to sit and face the king.
"I said get up," Oropher said. "I will not say it again."
At the sight of the dried snot and tears on Thranduil's face, Oropher dropped his hand and wiped it on his thigh. "Make yourself presentable! You will eat your breakfast alone, and your tutors expect you in an hour."
"I will not go," Thranduil said. His voice whispered out as a croak.
"Do you want a spanking?" Oropher threatened.
Thranduil raised his chin. "I do not care."
Oropher's green eyes glittered. "I will make you care!" He turned on the two servants hovering beside the wardrobe. "Bathe and dress my son and escort him to the library. I do not care how you do it as long as it is done!"
"My king," the elves bowed.
Thranduil scrambled to hide under the bed as Oropher strode out the door. One of the servants snatched his wrist and held him back.
"Please, my prince, do not be difficult," the elf pleaded. "We do not want to hurt you."
"Then leave," Thranduil invited.
"Our families depend on the wretched work we do!" snapped the second elf. "Leaving is not an option."
"You are as ill-tempered as your father," the first elf exclaimed through gritted teeth.
Ada. The tears slid down his cheeks. "Ada is not ill-tempered!" He hung on to the bedframe with one hand until it seemed the elves pulling at his other arm would drag the whole bedframe with him. His fingers slipped on the wood and he tumbled onto the floor between the dresser and the bed.
Thranduil looked up into the eyes of the servants as he rubbed his shoulder and was surprised at the desperation etched on their faces.
"What will happen to you if you cannot take me to the library?" Thranduil asked.
One of the servants snatched a damp washcloth. "I do not care to think of it."
As the washcloth scrubbed his face and the second elf held his shoulders, Thranduil squirmed on his sore behind. He wanted to kick until his legs ached but the glimpse of desperation he had seen held him back.
The lukewarm porridge Thranduil choked down sat in his stomach on the walk to the library. The arched double doors at the end of a wide hall glared at Thranduil, the elven faces carved into their centers cold and stern in the torchlight flickering from the wall brackets. At his approach, the guards swung open the left-hand door and the hush of the library seeped out.
Thranduil glanced at the servants walking behind him. They would not leave until he passed the door. He stepped into the library and half-turned as the door shut behind him. He stood alone and realized an elf stood waiting for him.
"Prince Thranduil," the elf bowed.
Thranduil tensed at the elf's stiff cuffs and high collar; dressed in a black knee-length tunic, the elf's pale skin had a yellowish tint. His black eyes matched the sheen of his hair, and his tight braid reminded Thranduil of Oropher.
"I am Tayan," the elf said. "Amber and I," he gestured to the woman who appeared at his elbow. "Will supervise and initiate your teaching."
Thranduil liked the woman less then Tayan; her hair pulled tight into a bun and stretched her skin tight until her grey eyebrows distorted and she seemed to smirk.
"Prince Thranduil," Amber bowed. Her smile turned her blue eyes flinty. "It is an honor to be appointed your tutor."
Looking at her silver hair, Thranduil thought she could have taught Oropher. Tayan took his elbow and guided him into the library. They passed black walnut shelves stacked with volumes. Some leather spines cracked and curled while others were new and waxed and still more were loose pages bound with thread. The carpet underfoot hushed quiet footsteps until the rows of bookcases ended at the edges of a circle where light brought alive the colors of the carpet.
Thranduil looked up and saw a domed glass roof. Small branches waved above it and a lump formed in his throat at the wind he could see but not feel.
"A pleasant space to learn, you will agree," Tayan remarked.
Thranduil glanced at the lone desk sitting in the center of the circle. With four legs, six drawers, and a wide surface, it faced a crescent shaped table with two chairs behind it. He shrugged.
"Young elf," said Amber. "I have taught hundreds of elflings. If you think you can come in here and continue to have no interest in bettering yourself, you are mistaken."
"It is lonely," Thranduil said.
"Lonely," Amber repeated. She set a stack of books on Thranduil's desk. "Perfect for studying."
Thank you all so much for reading! For me, writing and sharing My Prince with you is a glimpse into a world I can heal, whereas I cannot do anything to help the world I live in now recover . . . I hope you are all staying safe and healthy and (possibly) doing something new! As always, I love hearing your thoughts.
Earthdragon: You have no idea how lovely it is to hear from you! And maybe Thranduil is a spoilt brat but I have found I have to leave room for my characters to grow. I am happy I could write something good enough to encourage you to share your thoughts; thanks so much.
Next Chapter: Thranduil meets a witch.