"Thank you for that report, Taensirion," Oropher told the blond elf with a nod. "Now, about the home that was crushed by a tree earlier this week..."

Across the room, between Greenwood's prince and princess, a hand crept to the snow-covered branch outside the open window.

"No one was hurt, but the building was—" Oropher cut off suddenly as a powdery chunk of snow exploded in his face. It was not hard to guess whom the culprit was, and the king instantly spun to face his daughter-in-law. "This time you have gone too..." Oropher's sentence was again cut short, this time when Eithryn pointed at her husband, who held up his snow-covered hands with a smirk.

Oropher did not seem to know what to make of that. "Thranduil!"

Whatever had possessed the prince to act in such a manner seemed to still be in effect, as there was no trace of an apology on his face. "Yes, father?"

Oropher narrowed his eyes, but then turned back to the other elves. "As I was saying..."

Sky leaned over to her husband. "Is he going to kill you after the meeting?"

Thranduil winked. "I know my limits."

. . . . . .

Sure enough, Oropher told his son to wait behind when the meeting ended, but he was half-smiling as he waited for an explanation. "Was it her idea?" he asked, indicating the green-eyed elf who waited by the doorway.

"For once, no," Eithryn answered for Thranduil, sounding proud.

The king highly doubted that she was entirely innocent in the matter, but he decided not to argue the point. "If you wanted my attention, you could have simply asked," he joked, shaking his head at his son and turning to go.

Thranduil laughed as he followed Oropher out the door. "Ah, but father, I thought you would enjoy a moment of play. You are always so very busy, after all."

Oropher snorted, but his son had a point. "An inevitable part of being king, I fear," he sighed. "But I am free this evening. It has been too long since we spent time together, has it not?"

"It has," Thranduil agreed, but he glanced back at his wife, who was following at a respectful distance, tossing a snowball from hand to hand.

"What are you looking at me for?" she wondered. "I can entertain myself for a few hours."

"I believe that is what we are afraid of," Oropher noted with a warning glare.

Sky grinned, but she knew how little time her husband got with his father these days, and that it was as much because of her as because of Oropher's occupation. "I promise I'll behave," she told them reluctantly, but sincerely.

Oropher actually threw back his head and laughed at that. "Oh, yes, I am sure you will."

Thranduil gasped in anger. "Father!"

The king threw his son a doubtful look.

"She is not joking!" He turned back to his wife. "Are you?"

"I meant it," said Sky, who wasn't all that offended given that she hadn't exactly tried to earn Oropher's trust.

Thranduil was less forgiving, as he always was where his wife was involved, but he settled for a piercing glare at his father (who was not impressed, since he had invented that particular expression). "Where will you be, Eithryn?"

She shrugged. "With my friends, I suppose."

He nodded and set off with his father across the snowy ground. "Where shall we go?" After a moment of thought, he added, "Miraculously, I still have a butler, if that would affect our decision."

"I have five, and that fact does not surprise me, unlike your choices in life," Oropher said with a resigned chuckle. "How do you put up with her?"

"I merely—Duck!" He dropped to the ground as a snowball shot through the air where his face had just been, and then rose again without a noticeable loss of dignity. His wife was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

"You merely duck?" Oropher, who had not heeded his son's warning, asked dryly as he brushed the snow out of his hair, sending a nasty glare at the trees behind them.

"Indeed," Thranduil agreed. "Snow, mud, arrows, falcons... though she does not throw mud often anymore, thankfully. At me, that is."

"Arrows," Oropher repeated with a shudder. He would never forget when he had personally experienced Eithryn's extraordinary aim, and he decided it had better stay that way if she was using his son for target practice.

. . . . . .

It didn't take Sky long to track her friends to Felrion's house, where she entered through the window to find her brother sitting in the corner reading a book and the other two by the other window, making a valiant effort to have a conversation despite their current inability to figure out how exactly they were supposed to do that. Both their heads turned as she entered, and both looked immensely relieved. "Sky!" they exclaimed at the same time.

"Hey," Sky returned, and she couldn't resist adding, "Storm, are you ready?"

Kilvara froze, and Felrion gulped. "Going somewhere?" the latter asked, with a hint of panic in his voice.

"Siblings only," Storm said, catching on. "Sorry."

"We thought you two might enjoy some time to yourselves," Sky added.

Felrion and Kilvara looked at each other, and Kilvara blurted, "I just remembered I have to go do... something..." as Felrion stammered something incoherent.

The copper-haired elves almost died laughing. "Kidding!" Sky managed to say.

"That's just sad," Storm noted.

"And you're cruel," Kilvara muttered.

Storm turned to his sister. "Maybe we should leave them alone; I mean, it's been years now. They should be able to handle it."

Sky eyed their friends, who both had scared smiles like they were pretty sure Storm was kidding, but didn't want to risk saying anything just in case. "Or we could spend the evening teaching them how to talk to each other."

"Let's do that, please," Kilvara agreed.

"I don't know if we—I mean, if you want—might be dangerous—" The poor healer never seemed to get a sentence out properly anymore—at least, not around a certain she-elf.

"I think he's trying to say, 'Be careful what you wish for,'" Sky put in.

"Yes, that," a relieved Felrion agreed.

. . . . . .

Meanwhile, Thranduil and his father were approaching the prince's home. "Should I be concerned?" Oropher asked.

Thranduil shrugged. "Galion removes some of the tripwires now," he told his father casually. "But it is simply not worth his time to disarm them all."

"If I did not know better, I would say you sounded proud."

Thranduil smiled.

"I truly do not understand," Oropher admitted as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"You were never proud of Mother?" Thranduil turned as hoofbeats sounded off to the side and his magnificent elk trotted over to greet him. "Good evening, Brethil."

The bull head-butted him carefully in the chest, but still with enough force to send the elven prince back a few steps. Thranduil just laughed and scratched the elk behind the ears. "An extraordinary animal, is he not?" he teased his father. After all, the king had reacted with apparent irritation when his son brought the beast back years before.

What Thranduil did not know was that the king sent smirks at any other parents nearby whenever he saw his son with the elk, as though to ask what dangerous wild beasts their children had tamed recently. "Yes, he is," the king sighed with mock annoyance. "And of course I was often proud of your mother. It was merely for very different reasons."

Thranduil grinned and gave Brethil a goodbye pat before starting up the stairs. Oropher was careful to step only where his son did, knowing that the lack of any clear places to tie wires likely meant nothing, but both of them made it to the top in one piece. A pair of falcons eyed the king suspiciously as they entered the house, but apparently anyone who came with Thranduil had permission to enter.

They were greeted at the door by a very cheerful butler who, as always, bowed and greeted Oropher with remarkable manners for a Silvan elf (although most of them tried to be respectful, the king had to accept that it simply was not in their blood). "What may I get for you, my lords?"

"Wine, please," Thranduil told him. "The best we have."

Oropher nodded in agreement, and the butler vanished into the kitchen. "Miraculous, indeed," he told his son as they sat down at the table. "How is it that he has survived?"

Thranduil shrugged. "The same way I have, I suppose. He became her friend, and she is careful not to go too far for fear of losing that."

"I suppose that would not be an option for me," Oropher mused.

"If you would only make an effort—"

"We have had this conversation many times. I have tried."

"Not as hard as you could."

"Thranduil."

"Father," the prince replied in a tone so similar that an eavesdropper might have thought the same elf had said it, "All you have ever done was try to reason with her so that she might be controlled. That does not work with her."

Oropher took a deep breath to calm himself as he accepted the wine Galion handed him. "And why should I try when she does not?"

"She does—she does try. It is simply in a different way than you are used to. She treats you as an equal, father, if one she does not very much like. Whereas you insist on acting as though she is a servant. As you do, I might add, with all the Silvan elves."

That drew an indignant gasp from Oropher. "I am the king," he growled at his son. "I expect even Taensirion to treat me with respect."

"And that is what Taensirion is accustomed—"

"Do not interrupt me, Thranduil. I was going to say I have attempted to—"

"You have not, and nor have you tried to understand—"

"Nor has she!"

"That does not mean you cannot try to—" Neither elf noticed when Galion quietly took back their untouched wine to hide it until they calmed down.

"Why SHOULD I, when she refuses to do ANYTHING of use—" Oropher was half-shouting now, and his son's voice rose to meet the challenge.

"IF YOU WERE NOT TOO PROUD—"

"IF YOU HAD CHOSEN A PROPER WIFE—"

"DO NOT—"

"NO, YOU—"

"JUST LISTEN—"

"THRANDUIL, YOU—"

"—SHUT UP—"

"—DO NOT TELL ME TO—"

"—YOU ARROGANT, UNCARING—"

"THRANDUIL! SIT DOWN AND SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

Silence fell as the two Sindar stared at each other from across the table, fuming, and finally Thranduil lowered himself slowly into his chair, still glaring defiantly at his father. After a few moments, Oropher did likewise and their identical icy blue eyes stayed narrowed at each other for a long time before Oropher finally said—stiffly—"Perhaps we should speak about something else."

. . . . . .

Storm put his hand on Felrion's shoulder as they watched the she-elves try to shoot each other's arrows out of the air (which they often succeeded in doing, although then they had to hunt through the snow for the wayward projectiles). "Don't worry, she thinks it's cute that you can't talk in front of her."

Felrion eyed him. "And why do you say that?"

"Because I asked her, and that's what she said," Storm answered matter-of-factly. "Amid a whole lot of blushing."

Felrion blinked a few times and looked back at Kilvara, who glanced at him at the same moment and thus almost shot Sky by accident.

"I think you're both adorable," Storm added.

. . . . . .

"So..." Oropher began after several minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"Yes?" Thranduil sipped the wine that had been returned to his hand as soon as he and his father had ceased to shout at each other. He could not bring himself to be annoyed at his butler despite his vague feeling of being trained. If you behave like a good prince, you may have your wine back.

Oropher knew he needed to steer clear of any mention of Eithryn, even though he was sure their talk would eventually find its way back to his son's favorite topic. "You have settled well here, I think. Better even than I hoped when we left Doriath."

Thranduil smiled. "I, too, am surprised, but yes, I find that I like the Silvan elves very much. They are so cheerful, and yet so brave. And I like the forest as well... even when it does not much like me."

Oropher decided not to comment on that bit—he still suspected his daughter-in-law had talked Thranduil into eating hallucinogenic berries that day. Yes, his people often did go around talking to trees, but he talked to his ceiling sometimes (generally about something stupid one of his subjects had done) and that did not make it sentient. Besides, Silvan elves were strange creatures. And trees did not have muscles to move themselves with, anyway. "Yes, I like it here as well. Do you have more trust in my decisions now?"

"I still think you were mad to set off across the world looking for a new home," the prince said with a smirk.

"Perhaps," Oropher conceded. "But we could not stay there long, anyway."

Both Sindar's shoulders slumped as they thought of the empty place on the map where their home had once been. "You could not stay there any time at all," Thranduil said softly. "You were already planning to leave, were you not?"

Oropher closed his eyes and nodded.

Thranduil leaned back in his chair to gaze up at the ceiling. Would he be able to stay in that house, he wondered, if the worst happened? If he lost Eithryn?

He would likely fade, he knew. It was hard to imagine that he would find the strength to live without her. How his father had done it, he did not know... but Oropher had always been so much stronger than he was. He had not even seemed to come very close.

. . . . . .

"FATHER!" Thranduil shouted over the pounding of feet and the clanging of armor as elves rushed this way and that in a rush to prepare for the next horde of attackers. "FATHER!" the young Sindar called again, wrapping one arm around himself in an effort to stop the flow of blood from a shallow wound in his side. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

Someone caught him, and he found himself staring frantically into Taensirion's gray eyes. "The south wall was breached. I saw Oropher running that way."

The south wall? But that meant... Thranduil broke into a run without pausing to thank Taensirion, not that his father's friend waited for it. Down a flight of stairs he went, and up another, and around a cart that held elves he recognized even in the split second he had to see their still forms, but he could not stop to pay his respects. A knot was growing in his throat, and he knew somehow that there was no time to lose. He pushed himself faster and faster until he thought his lungs would burst.

It was not a large city, but by the time he reached his parents' home, he was too short of breath to call out for them. He could hardly make himself look when he threw open the door, but everything was in perfect order, with no sign of blood or a struggle. The other rooms were the same way... but his mother was not there.

It was only when he stumbled back outside that he noticed that the door of the next house over was open and swinging back and forth in the hot breeze.

. . . . . .

Blood was dripping from Oropher's jaw, but he was not aware of it.

His left hand was nearly touching the corpse of a child, but he was not aware of it.

All he could see was his beloved wife's face as he stroked his thumb across her cold cheek. "I am sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I should have sent you away, far away where you would have been safe." A tear ran down his face to fall in her hair. "But few places are safe anymore, and I was afraid I would never see you again." His voice broke. "I am sorry." He bent to kiss her forehead and took her limp hand in his, unconsciously rubbing to warm it up. "And you had to come find Laerdim's daughter, of course. Selfless to the end."

He heard a quiet noise behind him, and wondered if he even wanted to turn and fight. After all, what was the point of protecting an empty shell? But then his fatherly instincts took over as he realized, somehow, who it was that stood there.

He squeezed his wife's hand one last time, then stood in one abrupt motion and turned to his son, who was staring at his mother's body in a state of pure shock. "Come, Thranduil."

"Mother..." The younger elf murmured, seeming not to hear him.

"Come," Oropher repeated firmly, putting his arm around his son and guiding him out the door. "You need a healer, my child..."

. . . . . .

Greenwood's king drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes. His son was still there, looking upwards as if he could see the stars through the roof. Oropher wondered what long-lost day he was seeing... or if perhaps he had fallen asleep. It was hard to tell at times.

As peaceful as the younger elf looked, Oropher knew well that it was not good to dwell on the past for too long. "Thranduil," he called softly.

. . . . . .

Several hours later, Oropher paused in his recounting of some of his more... interesting moments as king (this particular story was about a Silvan elf who had been arrested for trying to murder her enemies' houseplants) to roll his eyes as his daughter-in-law entered, as usual, through the window. He was not sure whether to sigh or smile as his son instantly forgot about his presence and rose to greet her, but he did have to admit (in one of his rare moments of honesty) that they did look good together.

"You enjoyed yourself, I hope?" Thranduil was asking.

Eithryn grinned evilly. "I did. We didn't break anything," she added quickly, with a mock-bow at Oropher. "As promised. We just tormented Felrion and Kilvara."

"Ah, yes, how are they doing?" the king asked, with a look at Thranduil that said, "I am being good, are you paying attention?"

"Well, Felrion's still having trouble with sentences," the Silvan elf explained, waving to Galion as he came to the doorway to listen, "and Kilvara can't concentrate when they make eye contact... but they're making progress. Slowly."

"About time," Thranduil noted.

Eithryn snorted. "No kidding. And right before we left, Felrion kissed her on the cheek. I think she almost slapped him, she was so surprised, but it still might have been the sweetest thing I've ever seen."

"That hurts," Thranduil muttered, making Oropher laugh.

"Well, he almost passed out trying to work up the courage to do it... Fine, it's the sweetest thing I've ever seen except all the things you've done that are clearly much sweeter than that."

"Much better," the prince said, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "Father, I suppose you must be going soon?"

Oropher took the hint and nodded. "Good night, Thranduil... Yes, and you as well," he told Eithryn, who poked her husband in the ribs when he tried to narrow his eyes at his father. "Thank you, Galion... I do not suppose you would change your mind about my offer?"

"Sky said she would let her falcons live inside if I told you about any of her plans," Galion said politely.

"I see." Oropher had to admit he was impressed at the loyalty of his daughter-in-law's friends. After all, it was very mysterious that she had known to threaten the butler... "Well, I shall be on my way, then." He nodded to the three of them and left, but he paused as he reached the stairs to listen to the laughter coming from inside, every bit of it filled with joy and contentment, and he remembered who it was who made his son laugh like that. Perhaps, he thought, it was a good thing the pesky little creature was so good at getting out of trouble.

Fun fact: I used to share Sky's feelings about Oropher, but then the first time I wrote from his perspective I realized, hey, he has a reason to be annoyed. I wonder what would happen if I wrote from Professor Umbridge's perspective... Ugh, nope, not trying that. No way.