We begin with another "Poor Oropher" scene...
"My lord?"
Oropher looked from the report he was reading to the blond elf standing in the doorway. "Did you find her, Taensirion?"
In response, the other Sindar moved out of the way, and Eithryn stepped into the king's study. "She came willingly," Taensirion noted with a trace of humor.
"Thank you, my friend," Oropher said, waving his hand to dismiss him.
Sky looked around the room, noticing a high percentage of breakable things. Then she turned to Oropher with a glint in her eye. "Oh greatest, most powerful, and wisest of kings—" she began with a bow.
Oropher groaned.
"—may I ask that you grant me permission to inquire as to why you have most wisely risked the lives of your guards to summon me?"
He reminded himself that many of his subjects would be angry if he imprisoned her, not to mention... "I would like to speak with you about my son."
"You have a son?" Eithryn asked, feigning surprise.
"You know very well who my son is, Eithryn. Please do not touch that." He was trying to imitate the way Thranduil spoke to her sometimes, because that was at least slightly effective on occasion.
Sky hastily put down the glass whatever-it-was she was holding—too hastily for Oropher's liking, according to his expression. "No, I—wait, is Taensirion your son?"
"No, he is not." Oropher took a piece of paper from his stack and began quietly mangling it. That helped a little.
"Hmm. Is Felrion—wait. He's Silvan." She picked up another breakable thing, then gasped. "Or is he?"
Ripping the paper was no longer helping. Oropher's hands clenched on his desk. "Enough, Eithryn."
"Oh, I know. It's the prince, isn't it? What's his name—Thrandy-will?"
Oropher put his head in his hands.
"Hold on. You're the king, and your son's the prince? That's quite a coincidence." She tossed the breakable thing into the air and caught it. "Have you been abusing your power, Oropher?"
He was not dealing with this for as long as it would take for her to finish. "My son has been spending a lot of time with you, Eithryn."
Sky picked up three more breakable things and started juggling them.
"No matter how—" He had to look away. "No matter how my son feels," he continued, expecting at every moment to hear a crash, "his first priority must be to his kingdom, and—"
"Oropher?"
He could not hear her, he could not hear her... "—and therefore, he must choose—"
"You have a lot of wine in here."
"—a wife who will make a proper—"
"And a lot of candles."
Oropher looked up.
. . . . . .
Thranduil froze in mid-step as Eithryn burst out of his father's study, Oropher right on her heels. The two guards by the door jumped noticeably.
"NEVER THREATEN TO BLOW UP MY OFFICE AGAIN!" Oropher roared.
Eithryn spotted the prince and inched toward him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You come here, you..." Oropher stalked forward menacingly.
Thranduil quickly stepped in front of the she-elf. "Eithryn, what have you done this time?"
"I was just looking at his wine bottles," she said innocently.
Oropher shook his fist at Thranduil. "The trouble you are causing me..." He got a thoughtful look suddenly. "But I am the king, am I not?"
"If you're not sure, you probably shouldn't be," Eithryn observed.
Thranduil turned to her. "You are so helpful."
Oropher didn't seem to have heard either of them. "I did not want it to come to this," he told Thranduil apologetically. "Come."
Thranduil and Eithryn exchanged a look, and then the prince went over to his father.
"As I have already informed Eithryn, your relationship has the potential to harm the kingdom," Oropher explained. "Thus, I forbid the two of you from seeing or speaking to each other until further notice. Into my office, Thranduil."
The prince's mouth fell open. "You cannot—"
"I think you will find that I can."
The prince started to protest, but his father shoved him inside with some help from the guards.
Sky was left alone in the corridor.
. . . . . .
Thranduil did not feel like getting out of bed the next morning. Oropher had kept him busy for all of the day before, reminding him when he finally walked him home of the consequences if anyone saw him with Eithryn. He had even left Taensirion, one of his closest friends and advisors, to keep an eye on Thranduil. The prince was beginning to feel like a misbehaving elfling who had been put in time-out.
He finally got up when Taensirion knocked on his door some time after sunrise, and reluctantly got dressed and went out to see what he was going to have to do today.
Taensirion waited in the hallway. "Someone is here to see you," he said, gesturing toward the front door.
Thranduil sighed heavily. "Thank you, Taensirion." He trudged in that direction, the other Sindar following close behind, and paused for a moment before opening the door to erase the frown from his face, just in case whoever was there was not his father.
It definitely was not his father, unless Oropher was disguised as a mildly annoyed copper-haired Silvan she-elf. "It's about time," Eithryn said. "Thanks, Taen."
Thranduil turned to his father's friend, and Taensirion shrugged. "Oropher is my king, but I think he is wrong this time. Just remember that if you get caught, I will be punished as well." He walked past them to stand at the top of the stairs, winking at Eithryn as he passed.
Thranduil was impressed. It seemed Eithryn could accomplish anything if she put her mind to it, including getting one of Oropher's most loyal followers to turn a blind eye. His energy returned as he realized that he just might get to spend the day with her after all. "Would you like breakfast?" he offered.
"Sure."
He raised an eyebrow—that was a first. "Do I want to know how long it has been since you last ate?" he asked as he led her inside.
She grinned and took his hand. "No."
. . . . . .
"I should probably do some work," Thranduil sighed as they—well, he—finished breakfast. Even when Eithryn ate, it was only about half what Thranduil did. The prince had to wonder where she got her unbelievable amounts of energy. Maybe she photosynthesized.
Eithryn looked offended. "Why?"
"Because otherwise my father might become suspicious."
"Oh." She made a face. "Well, if you must."
Thranduil thought about it and shook his head. "I would rather spend time with you."
"Are those mutually exclusive?" she asked, trying to balance a spoon on the rim of her cup.
Thranduil could not tell if she was serious or not. "They are if I wish to make any progress in my work."
"I can be quiet."
Thranduil highly doubted that. "You will also need to hold still."
"Right. Still." She folded her hands in her lap and froze.
Thranduil waited.
She lasted about fifteen seconds before she sprang out of the chair and grabbed her cup, squeezing it as if she badly needed to touch something. Thranduil was actually rather impressed with how long she had gone.
"Okay, so I can't hold that still," she admitted, "but I'll hold still-ish. And I'll be quiet."
"Ish," Thranduil added.
"Ish," she agreed, still playing with the cup.
Thranduil decided he might as well try it. "All right. Would you put the dishes by the sink?"
She started stacking them. "I could wash them, too, if you want."
Thranduil, observing that she was trying to carry all the dishes at once—knives included—said, "No, I will do that later." He disliked washing dishes—he would not do it at all if he had a butler—but he was sure that she would find some way to make it dangerous. He went to get his paperwork.
Sky took the dishes to the sink, then went over to the bookshelf, determined to find something quiet to do. She chose a book that was written in Quenya, and another about the history of the human kingdoms, and settled herself on the couch just as Thranduil returned. He did have quite a stack of work, she observed.
Thranduil glanced at her chosen source of entertainment. "Do you read Quenya?" he asked. He had not known she could read at all, as they had quickly given up trying to make her participate in their new education system.
"Not yet," she said, unconcerned. "What's all that?"
He held one paper up. "Plans for the new outpost." He placed a pile off to the side. "Reports... Letter from Lórien—not for you," he added as she tried to snatch it, "more reports, complaints from unhappy subjects... You get the idea."
Was she going to have to do these things if she... "Do you ever wish you weren't the prince?" she asked.
He nodded. "Always."
Interesting. "Really?"
"For one thing," he told her, "it keeps me so busy that I cannot spend much time with you."
"Not anymore," Eithryn said, opening the Quenya book and snuggling up against him. "You might want to start; you have about ten minutes before I get bored."
Thranduil chuckled and reached for the stack. This was the first time he could remember when a day of doing paperwork did not sound so bad.
. . . . . .
That evening, Oropher heard a knock on his study door. "Come in," he called.
Thranduil came in, balancing a pile of papers. "Good evening, father," he said as he deposited them on Oropher's desk.
The king relaxed, recognizing the calm tone of his son's voice. He was forgiven, apparently.
He sat up straight again when Eithryn entered carrying the rest of the stack.
Sky put her papers on top of Thranduil's and watched with a grin as Oropher's face slowly turned beet-red, returned almost to its normal color, and then went even darker than it had the first time as the king apparently thought of something else. Thranduil pulled her close to him as though he expected his father to attack her, which did look likely.
It took several minutes, but Oropher did finally manage to calm himself somewhat. "What have you done with Taensirion?" he asked, his voice sounding strained.
"Tied him up at your house," Sky answered matter-of-factly. They'd enlisted Kilvara to bind him when she heard the king approaching; they couldn't make him stay tied for as long as it took the king to return, could they? Not after what he'd done for them.
Thranduil took a deep breath. "Father," he said carefully, "I understand why you do not approve of Eithryn, but I..." He looked to Eithryn for approval, and she nodded. "We have made our choice, whether you like it or not. So we are giving you a choice. Either you give us your blessing, or..."
"Or we leave?" Eithryn asked.
He hesitated, not wanting to go that far.
"Or you keep trying to separate us," she corrected herself, "and it doesn't change anything, because no matter where you lock him up, I can get him out. And if you lock me up... I have friends. So."
They waited. Oropher's expression was unreadable.
Finally, the king spoke. "Thranduil, hand me that bottle of wine on the shelf, please." The prince did so, and Oropher poured some of it into a glass and drained it in one gulp, then leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "There is nothing I can do to change your minds, is there?"
"No," Thranduil said firmly. Eithryn echoed him.
Oropher groaned. "Will you promise me one thing?"
Thranduil and Eithryn exchanged looks. "One," Thranduil agreed.
"Swear to me that you will not invite any dwarves to your wedding."
. . . . . .
"I cannot believe I let you talk me into that," Thranduil told Sky as soon as they were safely outside.
"It worked, didn't it?" she pointed out, although, to tell the truth, she'd been sure Oropher would try to lock them up at least once.
Thranduil laughed and took her hands in his. "It did. So when are you going to marry me?"
Her eyes went wide. "Um."
"You agreed you had made your choice," he reminded her.
"I have, but... marriage?" She gulped. She was only a thousand and three, and she was supposed to be a... she wasn't sure whether "princess" or "wife" would make that sentence scarier.
He frowned. "Is that a no, then?"
"Um... well... hold on." She looked down at the ground. How did she feel about this? She was scared, yes, but it wasn't like she was going to marry anyone else, so... why wait? That was all the thinking she needed to do. "Okay. Yes."
Thranduil's smile got almost as big as it had the first time he'd seen her bracelet (which, coincidentally, was what had tipped Oropher off to the fact that he was running out of time to do something). "Really?"
She snorted. "You were worried! Silly prince."
"Silly Silvan elf, not knowing what you wanted," he returned.
"I knew! I just hadn't had time to realize I knew, what with your father trying to keep us apart and all." She made a face at his doubting look. "If I hadn't known, would I have accepted your shiny rock present? Or made it into a bracelet? Or stayed here and put up with Storm instead of leaving Middle-Earth entirely?" Her brother's teasing had not gotten any better since the day they had walked into the feast hall holding hands, and this was not going to help matters.
Thranduil chuckled. "Well, I still knew first." He went silent, looking into her eyes, and Sky got the impression he had forgotten they were having a conversation. She was having some trouble remembering that herself, actually. She noticed that they were unconsciously leaning toward each other; she knew where this was going, but she didn't think he did yet.
So she kissed him, just so she could say she'd done it first.
It was a very short kiss, just long enough for him to realize what was going on before she pulled away, but it had the desired reaction—she could see Thranduil trying to get his brain to restart. So the stories she'd heard about males and kissing were accurate...
"I just thought it wasn't right that we were talking about marriage when we hadn't kissed yet," was the explanation she gave.
"No, that was not right, was it?" Thranduil agreed. "Of course, that hardly counted as a kiss..."
Psst-you there! Yes, you- -the one using the electronic device. I have a mission for you. It's very dangerous, but you are the only one who can do it. The world is in danger, and the only way to save it is to post a review! Quickly- -there's not much time!