I wrote this one in 2 days :) because it's super short :( but now I can start on the next one :)
No Sky in this one, sorry. We'll be seeing her again soon, though.
Storm waited patiently outside the meeting house, sitting on the frosty ground and sharpening his swords absentmindedly. He had no idea when the meeting was supposed to end, but he had time, and this was important. He was waiting for Thranduil.
It was in this very spot, under the willow tree to the left of the window, where his sister had taken to waiting for the prince—her future husband, she had told Storm.
He shook his head disbelievingly. His sister—Skyfire, the fierce little creature he had raised from a baby, the child who had once tamed a grown wolf and brought it into the house—was going to marry Thranduil, the very elf who, she had once complained, had almost no sense of humor. How was it even possible?
It was incredibly hilarious, yes, but at the same time, Thranduil was just so intense sometimes, and Sky was just so... so everywhere; she was going to make him mad at times. What if he lost his temper with her? Storm wouldn't worry about Sky if someone dumped her into a pit full of wargs, but she couldn't stand it if someone she liked was really, truly angry with her.
Their mother had, with her dying breath, made Storm promise that he would take care of his little sister, and he planned to. He respected her choice, but she just happened to be on patrol this week, so he'd decided this would be a good time to have a "talk" with his future brother-in-law.
Just in case.
. . . . . .
"Whenever you're ready, prince," Storm said, swords at the ready.
Thranduil eyed him warily.
Storm offered a friendly grin. "Come on, Thranduil."
The prince raised an eyebrow. Ever since Eithryn had promised to marry him, he had been noticing Coryn giving him looks that were very out of character for the normally friendly Silvan elf—so often that he was rather glad their blades were padded. Still, he was afraid he would end up with more than a few bruises if they fought. "I told you, I am very busy and do not wish to do this today," he said, backing away.
"Not too busy to spend most of your time with my sister," Coryn pointed out, sidestepping to block Thranduil's path. The prince turned with him. "And you weren't exactly working yesterday, either, so you don't have any excuse."
Thranduil narrowed his eyes at him, but reflected that he probably could not outrun Coryn anyway. "Very well, then." He went into a defensive stance.
Coryn just waited. Right, Thranduil realized, he was supposed to be doing the attacking. Well, Coryn could not have too much more patience than his sister. The prince did not move.
Neither did Coryn. He just matched Thranduil's gaze with those strange two-color eyes of his, reminding him that this was not Eithryn he was dealing with.
Storm noticed the prince's frustrated look and the way he kept shifting his grip on his swords and knew he'd won even before Thranduil growled, "I have things to do, Coryn".
Storm just spread his arms out wide as though to say, "You're the one who's taking so long."
Thranduil huffed and started to circle him.
Storm moved only as much as he needed to so that he could stay facing the prince, watching Thranduil carefully. He didn't miss the way his opponent suddenly tensed. A split second later, Thranduil's sword sliced in—but Storm was already far out of its path, and it was Thranduil who had to scramble to avoid a blade.
The prince quickly realized that he was in trouble. Coryn was not quite as fast as his sister, but he, unlike Eithryn, appeared perfectly focused—and perfectly serious—and he seemed to know Thranduil's moves almost before the prince himself did.
Actually, Storm was grinning on the inside, especially when he got both the prince's swords to one side. Granted, it did take both Storm's blades to keep them there, but it didn't take a weapon to knock Thranduil down—just a good kick in the chest. Storm was about eight inches shorter than Thranduil, but he was strong.
Thranduil pulled himself back to his feet, brushing the dust off his clothes. "I do not like you," he remarked to Storm.
The Silvan elf shrugged. "I'm not the one you're marrying. Again?"
. . . . . .
Several fights later, when Thranduil was limping and very dirty, Storm finally took mercy on him and sheathed his weapons. He had not won every fight, no, but the prince seemed to have gotten the message.
Thranduil seriously considered giving Coryn a few bruises of his own now that he was unarmed, but he had learned enough that day to think better of it. Storm noticed that and nodded to himself.
"I really don't have anything against you," the Silvan elf said, almost apologetically. "But that's not going to help you if anything happens to my sister."
"Is that a threat?" Thranduil asked wryly.
"No," Storm said. "Just a reminder."
This was inspired by what my dad said he's going to do if I ever bring a boyfriend home.