Thranduil, of the House of Oropher- King of Mirkwood, blonde hair, ice-blue eyes
Adilya Eluríel, of the House of the Lost Prince- Queen, killed 18 years before by orcs, ebony black hair, green-blue eyes
Aluir- son of Adilya and Alaron, the Queen's first husband who died when Aluir was three years old
Avladion II Thaëlíon- oldest son, platinum brown hair, cobalt blue eyes, thought to be dead
Alerus Cundulaurë- 2nd son, golden-blonde hair, sky blue eyes, thought to be dead
Calen Mahtarmelehta- 3rd son, ebony black hair, green eyes, banished for Alerus' murder
Luthien II Hanohína Merillë- older daughter, ebony black hair, blue-green eyes, 25 years old, married to Prince Maedhion of the Grey Havens, Cirdan's nephew, has two sons, Thalion, Rilien, and a daughter
Adrahil Orinqua- 24 years old, dirty-blonde hair, blue eyes
Daëron II Lindalalïe Mairotúr- 22 years old, dirty-blonde hair, green-blue eyes
Tasarin Lindonwë (Lindon)- 21 years old, blonde hair, green-blue eyes
Saeros Túrinalassë- 19 years old, blonde hair, deep-blue eyes
Tyelpëlin Aranwë- 18 years old, blonde hair, ice-blue eyes
Legolas Greenleaf- 17 years old, blonde hair, gray-blue eyes
Klêrassia Faërwyn- younger daughter, golden-blonde hair, sapphire-blue eyes, killed by orcs at a month old
ages are equivalent to human years, because I don't what they are in elven years
A/N Please read and review =)
Disclaimer- all recognizable characters belong to Tolkien, the genius and creator of Middle Earth.
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Aranwë stared at the marble floor at his feet, his very heart suffocating with a strangled kind of fear. On the other side of those imposing doors sat the King of Mirkwood, his angry father, waiting for him. Aranwë had no doubts that a punishment was due. In fact, he was quite sure.
But standing here, delaying things, was only going to make it worse. He took a deep shuddery breath and raised his ice-blue eyes to the huge double doors of the council room. He had gone through this many times, he could do it again.
He opened the door on the right, stepped quickly in and closed it behind him. And his heart sank. His father was sitting at the head of the round council-table, but he was not alone. Two of Mirkwood's most important lords, the fathers of his best friends, were present as well.
Captain Rumathil watched the prince slowly make his way to the table, his head bowed. It was obvious that Prince Aranwë was frightened. Very frightened, no matter how much he tried to hide it. The kind captain's heart went out to the young elf. Rumathil had known Aranwë since the prince had become best friends with his son, Ranion. Ranion, Atralon and Aranwë had been inseparable since childhood. Rumathil shot a look at his fellow advisor, Trelondil, Atralon's father. Captain Trelondil was watching the prince approach, his face also pitying.
Finally Aranwë drew near to his father, and he went down on one knee, bowing his head, so it was nearly touching the floor. He stood up again, faltering in his step. "Forgive me, My King. I came as quickly as I could."
Rumathil sighed, almost angry. No man- or elf- should be as afraid of his father as Aranwë looked to be. He knew why Aranwë was in trouble, and it was hardly the prince's fault.
Still seated, Thranduil gazed at his seventh and second youngest son with contempt. "I sent for you a half hour ago," he said, clearly expecting a good excuse.
Aranwë's eyes remained fixed on the marble floor. "Forgive me, My King. Tegi ordered me to stay later."
"And what Teglin orders is more important than what I order?"
"No, My King."
"Then why did you not come as soon as I sent for you?"
The silence in the room was crackling with tension. Aranwë ducked his head even further down, wishing that the floor would just swallow him up. He could feel his cheeks burning with shame. What must Lord Rumathil and Lord Trelondil think of him now?
"Well?" Thranduil prodded. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I am sorry, My King. It will not happen again."
Thranduil still had not moved. He surveyed his son, wishing as he had many times before that Aranwë would not continually hide his face when he was speaking. After a long moment, he spoke again. "And what is this I heard from Teglin's classes from yesterday? You drew a knife on Nyvelon is that not correct?"
"Yes," came a barely intelligible murmur.
"Do you have a good reason why you would do such a thing?"
There was a minute of silence, and suddenly Aranwë looked up, his pale blue eyes flashing sparks. "Yes, yes, I do have a good reason. Because he drew on me first. Of course, you wouldn't think that is a good reason, you would rather I just got killed so you wouldn't have to deal with me anymore. Oh, don't worry, Adar/father, I know you hate us. All of us. Is there any other reason why you banished Aluir? Is there any other reason that you refuse to act as a father would? It was Alerus and Calen who took your place, giving us something they never had. Because you are just a king. You are not my father."
Thranduil's eyes glittered with fury. "How dare you speak to me in this manner! I have a kingdom to run, and it is the kingdom that comes first, not my family of insolent elflings. You know not of what you speak." The king turned to the Captain of the Guard, who stood silently beside the double doors leading to the hall. "Delantir, remove him. Take the prince to his room, lock the door. Post a pair of guards just outside, they will trade shifts for the next fortnight. No one is to go in or out of there until I release him from his room."
Delantir opened the door and beckoned to two guards who were currently lounging against the wall in the wide hall-way. They quietly entered the room with bows to the king and took firm hold of the eighth Prince of Mirkwood, one on either arm, and led him from the room. The double doors closed with an unusually loud clank!, and Lord Rumathil winced. Aranwë was scarcely 18 in the equivalent of men's years. And it was that nasty-tempered, arrogant Nyvelon that drew first.
Aranwë's eyes flashed dangerously as the guards yanked him up the hall. He struggled to free himself, knowing full well how terrible a long two weeks spent in his room was like, but the guards were just as determined not to let him go. They had no wish to lose their heads.
They finally arrived at the prince's chambers, and managed to drag him inside, but Aranwë had had enough. He clenched his jaw, crossed his arms, and planted his feet firmly on the ground. He wasn't going any further. Not today he wasn't. The guards, after a rather unsuccessful attempt to move him, decided it was good enough. The prince was in his room, after all. They quickly left and closed the door, making sure to lock it behind them. It would not do for the prince to escape as he had done before, and bring the king's anger down on them again.
Aranwë's sharp elven-ears caught the rattle of the key in the lock, and his heart sank. He plopped down on his neatly made bed beside a hastily discarded pile of books from his lessons earlier and sighed.
Why, oh, why did he always seem to have the knack of saying exactly what he shouldn't to the king? Alerus would be so disappointed in him for losing his temper. Aranwë shook his head suddenly, blinking back unshed tears. Now was not the time to be thinking of his dead brother.
He moved his right hand in an attempt to find a more comfortable position on the bed and hit it on the corner of one of the hardcover books. There was a moment of silence, and then the book hit the wall with a resounding thud and fell, opened, to the floor.
~*~
"Give it back!"
"No! It's mine!"
"I had it first!"
"No, I had it first!!"
"Did not!"
"Did so!"
"Well I saw it first!"
"I did!"
"Hey!" A muffled shout came from behind the heavy red silken cushion that had just been thrown across the room at the first elf. The cushion fell to the floor, revealing a handsome face with striking dark-blue eyes sparkling with mischief and mussed-up, long golden hair. "I still had it first! Give it back!"
"Not on your life!" There was a moment of silence before the victor spoke again. "Mmm… That was sooo good… I just love raspberry tarts! That soft, flaky crust, and the sweet-tangy flavor of the raspberries, all glazed with sugary icing." The voice had an overly dramatic tone to it, for the initial purpose of making the other mad.
"Daeron, that was my tart!" said the first elf, the one with the striking dark-blue eyes.
A roguish-looking elf grinning wickedly, his blue-green eyes twinkling. "It isn't anymore. Unless of course, you want me to regurgitate it so you may have it…"
"Ew! No, Daeron!" exclaimed the younger elf.
" 'Ew! No, Daeron!' " mimicked his brother. "Come on, Saeros. Let's go get some from the kitchen. If we sweet-talk Lanwë she'll give us anything we want."
The elderly head cook doted on the princes and could never refuse 'the poor darlings' anything they asked for, and they had been quite aware of this since childhood.
Saeros jumped up, his dark-blue eyes dancing with the thought of the suggested crime. "Ok, but you have to give me one of yours because you stole mine."
Daeron glanced merrily at his younger brother. "Well you stole it in the first place. Anyways, if you want one of mine, or rather any at all, you best run, 'cause I'm gonna take 'em all if I get there first." And with that the young elf raced from the room.
That proved to be enough for Saeros. He grabbed the cushion that had previously hit him in the face and ran from the room not 5 steps behind Daeron, shouting at the top of his lungs as they flew down the hallway.
"Daaeeerrrrrrroonnnnnnnn!!!" came the shriek from Saeros as he pursued his older and naughty brother down the halls, passing amused guards and startled maids with trays and dust-rags.
"Catch me if you can!" came an even louder shout from Daeron, who was shaking helplessly from laughter as he came to the end of the corridor. "I'm- oof!"
Daeron, dashing around the corner, ran headlong into someone, and Saeros and crashed into Daeron. The pair looked up, smiles, sparkles and all traces of laughter vanishing from their faces.
"My Lord!" was all Daeron managed to choke out as he backed into Saeros, who had remained silent, shock, dismay and panic all showing on his face.
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Thanks so much for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I plan to post chapter 2 tomorrow.
~Aërlinwë Greenleaf