The Orphans of Greenwood some called them. Even if not all of them were technically orphans. Some, like Legolas, only had one parent die. Some, like Farlen, were passed to other family members, for him personally it was to the care of his two older brothers who were more than capable of raising an astounding young elf. Somebody Thranduil was happy to have as one of Legolas' best friends.
Some, like Avaleina and Eloisa had both of their parents taken on the night of the attack. Some of the younger ones were adopted by members of the wood who loved and cared for them, some were too old and so were passed into the care of the king, trusting him to come up with a good solution to the problem.
And he had done his best.
Rooms were made for them within the mountain with plenty eyes to keep on the children. Guards who reported to the king personally made sure they were in their beds at night, Belur made sure they kept up with their studies, Galion himself insisted on making sure all of them ate proper meals. Because they lived in the mountain with Legolas and had consequently become good friends with all of them, Thranduil found himself being the one they turned to with personal problems more and more often as they ages and grew more comfortable with him and their new home.
It was Thranduil who gave them something to do with their anger, it was him who bent their focus and will into something good and strong instead of chaos. Even if that meant them training at an early age. Even if, in the long run, it made them far harder to control and far more infuriating. But perhaps, later, the best asset the wood had in the war. That had not been the intention, the intention had been to keep them forcefully out of their own swirling darkness that skulked within parts of their hearts.
Galion had never once heard him complain. Thranduil had more than enough parental speeches, concerns, advice, forcefulness and love to go around. More than Legolas could ever have need or use for. Regardless what anyone said about him.
The end result was a small band of incredibly trained and dangerous warriors with a nearly unparalleled loyalty to their king.
To say it was inspiring to the people was an understatement, even here, at the end of things.
Weeks into what might have been called a siege of Dul Guldur in a desperate attempt to contain the darkness. A siege that seemed like nothing more than constant bloodshed and exhaustion. A battle their bodies had no hope of continuing much longer, regardless of what their wills and minds wanted.
They were vicious, determined and desperate. But they were not invincible.
Galion had read tales and heard songs of great battles before, he had watched and listened to Legolas and the others discuss them to learn from the mistakes made. But they all seemed to neglect to mention the love and trust they should have had in those that led them to the end.
Because even though he could see the troubling walls of the crumbling city, could hear his kingdom somehow solving crisis after tragedy, somehow rally for every attack all Galion could feel was the love.
He wondered if Celeborn and Galadriel felt the same when they arrived, felt it when Avaleina desperately called for 'Thranduil' and not 'My King' to find him when she came sprinting into their part of the line, an expenditure of energy she couldn't afford.
He wondered if they saw the genuine panic and concern in the kings eyes at the sound of her voice, reaching to take an instinctively steadying hold of her arms the second he melted from the crowd, "Ava?"
At a loss for words or perhaps just out of breath she pointed behind her to where the Lord and Lady stood, some of their archers not far behind. Galion wondered if they saw the tenderness in which Thranduil helped her to sit on the ground in her exhaustion instead of crashing into it, or how she leaned into his legs for support, and the comforting hand he placed atop her head.
Galion wondered if they saw a father's relief in the tears that wanted to spill but never would when they offered their help.
He wondered if anyone would ever realize that the name was horribly inaccurate if not hurtful and insulting; they were obviously no longer orphans for they had been adopted by an impossibly soft heart long ago, just not by name.
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I always thought of Thranduil as that one parent that knows all the gossip and problems in their child's friend group and gives them all advice and gets called 'Dad' by literally everyone but will also 10/10 kick your ass if he catches you doing something dumb at any point in time. But would also probably buy them cheap beer, let's be real.
Can't wait to hear your thoughts!
