Oropher never knew what to expect from his daughter-in-law; he could never tell when he spoke to her if she was going to smile at him, make fun of him, or just plain ignore him. She had never punched him before, however.
He had never realized just how fast the little monster was. He had seen her stagger out of the feast hall and gone to investigate, wondering if she was ill—while food poisoning was rare in elves, it was not unheard of—and had unwisely continued to approach even when she backed away with a wild look in her eyes. Now he was left reeling from the unexpected blow, at the mercy of a possibly insane she-elf. He held up his hands to defend himself from the expected attack, but it did not come.
. . . . . .
Inside, Thranduil returned from a short chat with Taensirion and looked around, wondering where his wife had gone.
. . . . . .
Oropher dared to open his eyes when he heard a quiet thump, and he quickly realized that he was no longer in danger. Eithryn was lying face-down a few feet away, but she quickly got back to her feet—quickly, but not gracefully, and Oropher smirked as he finally realized what was going on. He offered to help her to a nearby stump, but she slapped his hand away and promptly fell back onto the grass. "I see my son finally convinced you to try wine."
She muttered something that was probably an insult into the ground.
Oropher shook his head. "And I see that you liked it." He made his way to the door, pausing before he opened it to note that the Silvan elf showed no signs of moving and had most likely passed out.
. . . . . .
Thranduil had just reached the door when it opened, and he judged from the way his father's shoulders were shaking that his wife was indeed outside, and that he was going to regret his attempt to get her drunk, which he had thought had failed until she mysteriously disappeared.
Sure enough, there she was, lying with her face in the dirt. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry as he rolled her over, but the choice became clear to him when she moved enough to kick him and muttered, "Goway."
"You only had three glasses!" he half sighed, half chuckled as she curled up in a ball. "Oh, Eithryn." He picked her up, pausing to send an amused glare at his father, who thought all of this was quite funny, and started off through the trees. First that horrid coffee substance, and now this... Perhaps he should not let his wife drink anything from now on, just to be safe.
. . . . . .
Thranduil poked the lump in the covers as he passed on his way to the closet. "Planning to get up anytime soon?"
Eithryn groaned, though the sound was muffled by the pillow over her head. "I hate you."
. . . . . .
"Eithryn, you will feel much better if you eat something."
Sky wrinkled her nose at the toast in front of her. "I don't think I will."
"And which of us is the expert in hangovers?"
"If yours were like this, you wouldn't have had more than one." She shoved her plate across the table and stomped off, pausing before she disappeared to lean on the doorframe for a moment so she wouldn't fall over.
. . . . . .
"Hello, Taensirion," Thranduil said as he came across the other Sinda half an hour later.
"Ah, Thranduil, I was looking for you. Do you know why your father has a black eye this morning?"
The prince's eyes went wide, and he gulped, smiled nervously, and set off for his father's office to make sure Oropher still had his sense of humor from the previous night.
Taensirion was left alone with his many new theories.
. . . . . .
When he returned home that night, Thranduil was concerned to find the bedroom door closed, and Galion confirmed that he had not seen Eithryn much that day, and was certain she had not eaten anything. The prince was careful to be quiet as he pushed the door open and made his way to the bed. "Eithryn?" he murmured.
The lump under the covers groaned. "I hope you die. Painfully."
"Perhaps you should be quieter next time I have a hangover," Thranduil suggested dryly.
"No, I'm really going to enjoy making as much noise as I can."
Thranduil noted that never before had pain totally removed her ability to empathize. "I did try to help..."
"Go away before I hurt you."
Thranduil probably should have done so, but he continued, "You would have felt much better if you had—"
. . . . . .
All things considered, Oropher was not surprised to find his son at his door so late. "May I stay here tonight?" Thranduil asked. "My wife is... rather unhappy with me."
Oropher smirked and held the door open. "Your nose is bleeding."
"And your eye is purple and black."
. . . . . .
CLANG.
Thranduil reached over to grab the other pillow and use it to cover his pounding head.
CLANG.
"Eithryn..." he growled weakly.
CLANG. The sound was getting closer.
Thranduil curled into a ball.
The door opened. CLANG.
"I SAID I was sorry," he snarled, although his current position made his threatening tone less convincing.
CLANG.
"Eithryn," he begged. "Please. Let me sleep." Of all the times for his wife to hold a grudge...
There was a pause, and then:
CLANG.
"EITHRYN! I will do anything!"
CLANG. "Just don't try to give me wine again."
"I will not, I promise!"
Pause. "But you already did..."
"Three glasses of wine should not have—"
CLANG. Right. Next. To. His. HEAD.
Sky gulped and put down her frying pans with an apologetic grin as her husband sat up and flashed her a cruel smile.
. . . . . .
"...so where are we going?" Sky asked meekly as Thranduil carried her through the forest, still with an expression that suggested he would very much enjoy torturing her to death.
"Somewhere you cannot bother me," he answered sweetly.
She decided it was time to get out of this situation. "I'm really very sorry," she said in her best I'm-small-and-weak-and-helpless voice.
"Good. That means you will not do it again." His cruel grin widened. "But, to quote you, you already did..."
She laughed nervously. "You're not going to throw me in a cave, are you?"
"No."
"...are you going to tie me up somewhere?"
"That would be ineffective."
"Are you... going to hit me on the head and throw me in a pit?" Sky, who was running out of ideas and really didn't like the look on her husband's face, asked quietly as Thranduil reached the river and turned to walk upstream, wincing as the sunlight bounced off the water to sting his eyes.
He frowned down at her. "I do not believe I have ever been that angry at you."
She thought for a moment. "If I start yelling, will you put me down?"
"If you start yelling, I will knock you out and leave you in a pit," Thranduil, whose headache was not being helped by walking, promised.
Eithryn shifted to look around for any sign of help. "You're starting to scare me here..."
Thranduil sighed. "I will not hurt you, Eithryn, even though you hurt me. You know that."
"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said in a small voice.
"I know, but you did." He looked down into her eyes. "But at least it was my head, and not my heart, and so I forgive you." The smile came back. "But I am still going to throw you in the river."
Sky froze. "What? Wait, no—"
SPLASH.
This chapter should not be taken as encouragement to drink alcohol, punch your father-in-law, or dump your spouse in the river.