Author's Note: In response to the question posed by Noface (Guest) in the area of their ages we get into a little bit of tricky ground. Physically speaking Himelon is older than Thranduil but appears younger. In the overall spectrum Thranduil would be around the same age since he would have been "born" around or maybe slightly before Himelon back in Valinor before elves came to Middle Earth. However Himelon has been physically in Middle Earth longer than Thranduil and is thereby physically older. Himelon awoke in Middle Earth along with a group of the first elves to arrive but had practically no memories of his life before so he never had any recollection of going through the infant to adulthood process. Also since he didn't really had extensive contact with other elves in Middle Earth for most of his time there he can come across socially awkward and potentially younger than he may be in particularly uncomfortable situations. Ex: Panicking after being captured by wood elves and ultimately escaping when he could have stayed and rested. Thranduil having full memory of going through the stages of infancy to adulthood and being surrounded by his kin leads him to be less inclined to act rashly and/or panic when placed in a particularly uncomfortable situations. I hope this helps to clear up the age situation a bit. Sorry if I just made things more confusing. OTL And my question to you or anyone who may know. OMC. Does it mean "Original Male Character" or something else? Sorry for not entirely understanding the acronym. Anyway. Carry on.

As the raven haired male fell into unconsciousness Thranduil gently reached out to shake him. He had encountered, once or twice, individuals who would feign unconsciousness only to attack ore escape later and based on Himelon's actions as of late the elven King wouldn't exactly put such a thing passed him. Himelon was however indeed unconscious. His skin was as cold as death and his breath and pulse were barely detectable. Had the situation been different Thranduil may have mistaken the other for a dead body. Yet he had found the pulse and breath that indicated life.

A swell of relief washed over the starlight haired king as he scooped up the limp elf and situated him on his elk. The ride back to Greenwood had been silent and slow. No one was in a particular rush seeing as how they'd pushed their mounts so hard to catch Himelon. As long as Thranduil did not show urgency his guards would not. As the group entered the trees the light of the moon was waning ever so slightly and Thranduil took the opportunity to look into the mind of his peculiar captive. All elves had abilities that the other races called magic. Some healed particularly well of were given the gift of foresight while others had elemental attributes or could manipulate the living creatures of Middle Earth. He had been gifted with a kind of telepathy. And so with a deep breath and a soft touch to Himelon's icy forehead the elven King gently let his mind slip into that of the raven haired male.

Darkness. That was all at first. Then there were words. Words whispered in the forbidden tongue of Mordor. They spoke of decay and rot. They grew louder and louder and the darkness flowed and seeped into every inch of Thranduil's consciousness. It's hold tighten mercilessly until the elven king felt as though he would fade into it entirely. No matter how he twisted or reached for the path that had led him here it was nowhere to be found. The black speech laughed a murmured promises of the destruction of his kingdom. It seemed like an eternity he had been forced to choke and listen when it all began to fade. He felt more and more like himself until the dank seep of the black speech had been entirely exercised. When his vision returned to him there was before the hands of Thranduil a door illuminated by such a fragile blue light that he thought it may shatter at any moment against the abyss. The door was silver and encrusted in frost and surrounding it was a form of elvish long since forgotten to time. It was the language spoken only in Valinor that none were thought to even be able to recall in Middle Earth. Yet it's meaning imparted fully to Thranduil as his gaze traveled over the elegantly inscribed runes. It was an ancient ward against the dark mass through which he had just passed yet there seemed to be no way in. Few if any elves practiced shielding their minds any more. It was not necessary in recent years so it was only logical to assume that this blockade had been erected before the recent years had come to pass.

Thranduil ran his hands over the door pushing and pulling softly trying to find a way in where there was none. It quickly became evident that he would proceed no further without permission. Permission that he would likely never receive. Even so he had learned much. He had learned that something foul slept here and that it sought to consume the mind of the raven haired elf male. This worried him greatly. Perhaps it was this foul shade that had led to his violent nightmares. Perhaps his visions of Himelon being killed in various horrific ways and the world falling to ruin at the feet or pale skin and black hair were not simply dreams but his mind sensing that which slept in Himelon's mind. As Thranduil's ice blue eyes stared out into the abyss before him he felt gripped with fear and sorrow. Fear because he would have to try and traverse that abyss to return to his body and sorrow because he had no way of currently knowing if Himelon was willing ferrying the darkness into the world or if it was simply being contained here so it could not corrupt Himelon's heart. With a sigh and a soft prayer Thranduil took one step forward, then another and another until he was on the very edge of the blue light's reach. He glanced one more time back at the door and strode out into the darkness as he walked the light followed him on the way out and soon enough he saw the path through the darkness before him and did not hesitate to take the quickest rout out.