The gruel tasted of stale oats and forgotten milk from the back shelf of the icebox. Thranduil fed it to the mice who gathered in the corners of his cell. It hurt his right hand to lift the spoon; blisters lay thick on his skin from Amber's pointer, and he spilled more gruel then he tasted using his left hand.
In the gloom he sat and listened to the jailers laughing and clinking wine glasses in their room at the end of the hall. As the day passed, he grew aware of breathing around him; other prisoners of the kingdom. When he slept, the breathing lulled him to sleep. Without the sun, he thought perhaps two days had passed.
On the third day, after setting is gruel out for the mice, he crawled to his door and looked at the elf in the cell opposite him.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"I might ask you the same," the elf replied.
"I refused to take a beating," Thranduil said.
The elf sat in shadow but the yellow of his eyes gleamed out. His voice husky, he said, "I was caught stealing. That my pregnant wife was starving did not matter to the King."
"Starving?" Thranduil said.
"Where are you from?" the elf asked.
"I have never gone far beyond the palace," Thranduil admitted.
The elf snorted. "Then no wonder you are ignorant of Mirkwood's troubles. It is a cruel world, elfling. Orcs kill our children and the King takes our grain and meat and gold. There is no life save labor and little gain for those not blessed with noble blood."
"I should like to make a vow," Thranduil said. He grasped the bars and shouted up the hall, "With all of you as my witnesses!"
Thranduil heard the jailers scrape back their chairs. Light lanced into the dark as a door opened and a jailer entered the corridor. "Be quiet!" the jailer snapped.
"I vow," Thranduil said, "That when I am king, Mirkwood will be a beautiful home. I vow that Mirkwood will treat its citizens fairly. I vow—I vow to be a kind king."
The jailer fell silent. Thranduil watched his shape leave the corridor and shut the door.
"Prince Thranduil," said the elf opposite him. His voice echoed and seemed to reflect, as Thranduil reflected, the meaning of the title.
Four more bowls of gruel passed. The fourth bowl heralded the arrival of King Oropher. Thranduil held his feet together by his ankles and looked up into Oropher's eyes. Two torchbearers held flames behind the king, and the light danced on the damp stone walls.
"Are you ready to behave yourself?" Oropher demanded.
"No," Thranduil said. "I like it down here. It is peaceful."
Oropher frowned. "I receive daily complaints from servants and guards worried about my treatment of you. I will not have my dignity questioned because of you."
"You are cruel," Thranduil answered. "I am glad I am not the only one who sees it."
"Give me the key to this cell and I will show you how cruel I can be!" Oropher growled.
"I will agree to a compromise," Thranduil suggested. "If you bring back ada, I will do my duty as your son."
Oropher smacked the cell door. "I will not bargain with a child. Sit here and think about what you have lost."
The torchlight faded and died as Oropher strode down the corridor and the door banged shut after him. Thranduil drew his legs up to his chest and sighed.
"I miss you, ada," he whispered.
The elf across from him said, "I miss my wife. I have not even seen our child."
Thranduil flushed hot in the cool air. Here he was complaining about trivial matters when this elf had not even been there for the birth of his child—but it was not trivial! It was ada. Home. Everything!
"I cannot live like this," Thranduil sobbed.
Down the corridor, sitting at their wooden table, the gathered jailers stared at each other over clasped hands and listened to their Prince's sobs. The clock on the wall had barely moved its long hand between two numbers before one elf rose and left the room. His hands were clenched.
In his cell, Thranduil sniffed and wiped his nose. The liquid stung his injured hand even through the swelling had subsided. With his back to the wall and his knees pressed into his chest, he listened to the footsteps hurrying up the corridor. A jailer appeared with keys in his hand. Behind him came an elf with a tangle of hair. Thranduil squinted; the elf's shoulders were familiar.
The jailer unlocked his cell door. Thranduil scrambled forward with a cry as the elf stepped inside toward him. "Ada!"
Harune knelt to catch him in a hug. The cell door shut behind him.
"I thought you left," Thranduil whispered.
"You cannot believe everything you are told," Harune said gently. "I refused to leave you, and Oropher locked me in the dungeons." His hands circled Thranduil's back. "I will never leave you."
"I did not know what or who to believe," Thranduil murmured. "It seems Mirkwood is filled with liars."
"What happened to your hand?" Harune asked. His cool fingers soothed the heat in Thranduil's palm as Thranduil blurted out Amber's name.
"I did not mean to scratch her," Thranduil finished. "I was confused. . . and I-I did not want to be hurt, ada. She said she would beat me—and I looked in her eyes—and I knew she was not lying."
Harune caressed his cheek. "I see mistakes have been made. But no matter, this imprisonment is truly unacceptable. I will strangle Tayan and Amber!"
The anger in his voice made Thranduil look up in surprise. He had no chance to say anything as the corridor door banged open again. Thranduil heard Oropher's cold voice and a woman's he did not recognize. He turned with Harune to look out into the passage as Oropher stopped in front of him. The woman with him took her angry eyes off Oropher and stared at Harune.
"This is monstrous!" Oropher exclaimed. "Even my jailers defy me."
Harune stood and Thranduil rose with him, squeezing his father's hand.
"Your jailers seem to have the heart you lack, my king," Harune said. "You shut me in the dungeons and treat your heir like a common criminal?"
"I will not be lectured to!" Oropher snapped. "Your wife has come to fetch you."
Thranduil's eyes shifted to the woman beside Oropher. "Your real family," he whispered.
Harune stiffened and the woman exclaimed, "Oh no! You are part of our family, Thranduil. I have only ever supported Harune in this decision."
"Sapphire," said Harune. "Why have you come?"
Sapphire stamped her foot. "Valar above, I hear my husband is jailed and you expect me to sit home and mend? I think not! Jade came close to declaring all out war."
A smile tickled the corner of Harune's mouth and Thranduil grinned.
"You may take your wife and leave," Oropher said. "Be thankful I will forgive this outrage one time."
Harune shook his head and dropped his arm around Thranduil's shoulders. "No, my king. I stand by my decision to stay with Thranduil. Surely you see he needs me."
"He is dependent on you!" Oropher spat.
"He is my father!" Thranduil flared up. "Maybe if I felt safe living with you, I would not need ada as much but you—you never listen to me!"
"It is your duty to listen to me," Oropher said, leveling the tone of his voice.
"I cannot hear your voice when you shout," Thranduil replied. "I cannot respect you when you are cruel."
"You are one to talk!" Oropher cried.
Thranduil looked up at Harune. He had his father back but the elf in the cell opposite him had not even seen his child. Each prisoner in the dungeon had lost their families. If wearing a crown was the way to fix the bleeding eyes of Mirkwood's people, then wear a crown he must.
"My compromise still holds," he said.
Oropher's chest heaved. "I have a mind to disown you."
"Do it!" Thranduil said eagerly.
Oropher's blue eyes scowled at him. "You may leave the cell. And Harune may stay. I will consider revising your schooling plan." He spun around and strode down the corridor. As the heavy fall of his boots on the floor faded, a jailer hurried to unlock the door. Harune stepped out of the cell to embrace his wife before he took Thranduil's hand and guided him out of the dungeon and into the light.
Thanks kindly for reading! I think this has been my favorite chapter to write so far; some right has come back into Mirkwood again.
Next Chapter: Thranduil meets a servant girl and makes a friend.