Thranduil sighed as the familiar mossy eaves of the palace rode into view. He looked at his father riding beside him and Harune reached over and patted his thigh.
"Are you not happy to be home?" Harune asked.
Thranduil guided his horse with one hand on the path around the palace toward the stables. It was a narrow strip of land through the grassy forest floor, with trees above and dappled sunshine.
"I never thought, ada, I would look to the palace with so much joy. Yet after the things I have seen, it is comforting to see something I know."
Harune dropped his hand off Thranduil's leg and sat up straight. "I know. That is why I did not wish for you to tour Mirkwood until now."
"I do not regret going," Thranduil said slowly. "Maybe I hoped I would not see some of the things I saw, but I am glad to have seen them. I cannot change things I am not aware of."
The horses stopped at the stables. The guards riding behind Thranduil dismounted and a throng of waiting servants circled Thranduil and Harune to strip away their luggage and escort them into the palace.
The fire was lit in the hearth in the family room Thranduil shared with Harune. Thranduil stood in the doorway and smiled at the familiar leather of the sofa and the small table where he and Harune often ate breakfast; there was a covered tray on the table now. Even Harune's armchair and his own smiled at him.
Thranduil dropped down on the rug by the hearth and peeled off his boots. He stretched his bare feet out to the flames as Harune sat down beside him.
"I have missed this," Thranduil said, wiggling his toes.
"It has been a long year," Harune replied. "I know spring is almost upon us but let us take some time to breathe before taking on any new responsibilities."
Thranduil stared into the fire as Harune stood up and went to take the tray off the small table. He put it on the floor between him and Thranduil and poured two cups of sweet chamomile tea.
Thranduil picked up the note on the tray as he stirred his steaming cup. He smiled. "Compliments of Ailunia through Nimrethil. She says it will help us sleep. It is sweet of her to remember I am home."
"She knows it is not proper to be late," Harune replied.
A chilly breeze swept through the curtains hanging over the open doors leading out into the balcony. Harune went to shut them and Thranduil breathed in the warmth of his tea. He felt hollow, empty inside.
When he walked up to his bedroom, he found the room had been dusted by a quiet hand. So clean it was, he might as well have slept in it for the past year.
Thranduil dreamed. He dreamed of muddy streets and the wind whirling through cracks in ramshackle houses. He dreamed of the ragged elflings who had hurled rocks at him and cursed and the elves who stood and looked at him with hate in their eyes. He dreamed of summer leaves and woodcutters almost too tired come nightfall to hug their wives. He dreamed of manors and saw tears.
Thranduil awoke smothering under his blankets. He threw them back and suddenly shivered with the frost on his windowpanes. He stared at the ceiling receding into shadow and his lips curled as he realized he would have to see Oropher and Natelle come morning.
He had not followed the route Oropher had planned for him to take through Mirkwood. He had refused to see glorified visions of happiness and instead sought out what the King tried to keep hidden; what the crown ignored. He had seen it and he hated it.
It was time to change it.
The sun greeted Thranduil the next morning, melting the frost on the windows. Thranduil dressed in a warm patch of sunshine on the floor and went down to the family room. Breakfast was hot and filling, with a welcoming note from Nimrethil on Thranduil's plate. As he ate the last bite, a servant glided into the room and offered Thranduil a less welcoming note on a silver platter.
Thranduil nodded his thanks to the servant and took the note. He did not have to open it to know it was a summons to the throne hall.
The palace had not changed, Thranduil noticed, as he walked toward the throne hall. Here were the same rich dark walls and gold candlesticks, the same paintings in silver frames. The same lords and ladies walking in silk and velvet; the same children with adult eyes.
The throne hall was long to accommodate many a ball. At the far end opposite the double doors, the King and Queen's thrones sat on a raised dais. As Thranduil approached, Oropher and Natelle rose from their seats.
Thranduil accepted a tentative hug from Oropher and a kiss on the cheek from Natelle before he stepped back.
"Welcome home, dear child!" Natelle exclaimed.
"It is good to be home," Thranduil said suspiciously.
Natelle flicked a golden curl off her bosom. "Darling, it is only proper for us to welcome you home appropriately. Your father and I have planned a lovely gala ball for this evening, and we expect you to be there."
Thranduil bowed. "I will attend."
"Lovely!" Natelle said. She smiled. "There is someone you must meet."
"You kill me with curiosity," Thranduil said politely.
"You have reached an age where play is now behind you," Natelle said. "You are Crown Prince, Thranduil! Your lessons will resume as normal and your nights will be filled with social occasions. You will receive many an invitation, I am sure, and you will answer them with due respect towards your duty."
"Of course, my queen," Thranduil said, as he bowed over her hand.
"You may go," Natelle said.
Thranduil bowed and stepped away. once outside the throne hall, it occurred to him this was Oropher and Natelle's way of finding him a wife. The thought was so absurd, he chuckled.
Thranduil ducked into the closest door into the servants' passages housed within the palace walls and trotted down to the kitchens. The wide room stretched a long length of the palace and opened out onto the kitchen gardens. Heated by the massive ovens at one end, the kitchens smelled of sugar and spring spices. The kitchens hummed with racket; eggs whipped in a bowl, a cook screaming at her charges, beans pouring into a pot, the constant chatter of the maids.
Thranduil stood on one of the stairwells leading onto the floor and looked for Nimrethil. He soon spotted her purple head nodding over a floury table in the center of the floor. He wove his way through the tables down the center of the long room, where cookies and pies and bread cooled until he reached her.
Her hair knotted at the base of her neck, Nimrethil wore a fitted lilac dress and a black apron as she rolled out a flat of dough with smooth movements. She jumped when Thranduil breathed down her neck.
"Why, Thranduil, is that any way for the likes of you to behave?"
"Never!" Thranduil insisted. He grinned. "I missed you too."
"I am slaving over tables of food for the gala ball tonight," Nimrethil exclaimed. She turned back to the table and sliced a ball of dough into stripes. She deftly twisted the stripes into a rose.
"It is pretty," Thranduil said.
"Dusted with a little sugar and baked golden brown, it will be a sheer delight," Nimrethil replied. She waved her hand. "And I only have to make several thousand of them." She shoved him. "Now run along, you distraction, you. Go greet Hyrondal and Jailil!"
"How do you know I have not done so already?"
"I have my ways," Nimrethil whispered.
Thranduil shook his head as he left the kitchens, sneaking a cookie off a tray cooling on a table. As he mounted the stairs and looked back, he knew Nimrethil had seen him.
The healing ward, compared to the kitchens, was quiet. Robes swished and healers murmured to each other, but there was no explosions of laughter or shrieks over a pot over-boiling. Thranduil reached Avaron's office and went in. Avaron looked up from his desk and Thranduil asked, "Have you seen Jailil?"
"Welcome home, my prince," Avaron replied. He used his pen to point to the sofa against the wall at Thranduil's left. "You will find your esteemed friend resting; he had a headache."
"I thought it was not allowed for healers to get headaches," Thranduil remarked. He stood over the sofa and looked down at Jailil until the elf's yellow eyes flared open.
"Thranduil!" Jailil exclaimed. "Your gaze could give anyone nightmares."
Thranduil smiled. "I see you have a new belt."
Jailil looked down at the gold threads laced through his broad black belt. "Yes. I am licensed to reset broken bones and perform small operations with a healer present."
Thranduil folded his arms. "Then why do you look so down?"
Jailil slid his legs over the edge of the sofa and sat up to make room for Thranduil to sit beside him. "Being a healer is harder than I thought."
"Surely you are up to the challenge!"
Jailil shushed him as Avaron shot them a look. "Of course, I am up to the challenge! But, I tell you, Thranduil, over the past year I have seen no less than five girls stumble in here to birth hate children they then abandon. Avaron said servants have a different set of civil rights. I looked and he is right."
Thranduil clasped his hands on his lap. "I saw unwelcome things out in Mirkwood too."
"I cannot keep standing by and being told it is all part of life!" Jailil said.
"No," Thranduil agreed. "Let us change the definition of life, starting right now."
What are friends for but to help us meet universal goals and share in our wishes?
May the holidays take root soon for you.
Next Chapter: Enter Marseille (who?).