Summer was slowly becoming Autumn in Greenwood. The leaves, unlike the rest of the world's trees, remained a resilient, vibrant green even as the soft nip of winter spread across the land. The air filled with the overpowering scent of gardenia and plumeria blossoms and the soft ground grew ever more firm as the frost began to creep across the uncovered forest floor. The colors of the many gardens, inside and outside, of the palace were becoming less of summer and more of fall. Where citrus fruits and watermelons had grown now were pumpkins and blueberries. The brilliant and colorful flowers gave way to rich orange and gold with hints of blues. The sunlight itself seemed to take on more of a muted golden-brown that it previously had displayed.
Throughout his time in Greenwood Himelon had taken to amusing himself with elflings, walks in the woods, and keeping up on his skills with bow and blade. On this particular Autumn afternoon the raven hair elf was showing a few of the more introverted elflings how to shoot a bow and arrow. Twilight was nearing and the elflings had been at it since sunrise. More than once Himelon had asked them if they wanted to call it a day but they never did. One little boy was having the worst luck of all. He had golden-brown hair and scarlet eyes with a darker skin tone than most other elves. He wore a pair of green pants and a silver tunic with black ankle boots. He was tall for his age and just couldn't seem to shoot the arrow right. First he'd shot himself in the foot. Then the bow string kept snapping on his ear and cheek. Then his fingers kept getting nicked by the sharp arrowhead and the arrow would never fly straight. Finally half the times he'd pull out an arrow it would fall out of his hand and, in attempt to retrieve it, he'd end up spilling the rest of the arrows all over the forest floor. The other elflings had laughed and pointed. Making fun of him for his skin, eyes, hair, skill, and whatever else they could find. Himelon had expected the red eyed elfling to leave at the first given opportunity but he hadn't. Even when all of the other children were gone, he continued to try.
"Why don't you go home," Himelon offered softly laying a hand softly on the elfling's shoulder, "You've shown more dedication than the others and you must be tired." A small smile graced Himelon's lips as he gently lowered the bow in the child's hands. The red eyed elfling let out an exasperated sigh and plopped down on the ground while fiddling with the feathers on the arrow he was planning to shoot.
"I need to get this," the red eyed child groaned placing his head in his hands, "If I've ever going to get them to stop teasing me I have to get this!" The tears threatening to spring from the small child's eyes and the way he grit his teeth in frustration were the only things to betray the depths of emotion the elfling felt. Himelon gave a soft sigh and hauled the red eyed child back up onto his feet.
"Hold it like this," the raven haired elf began taking a grasp of the elfling's hands and arms to move the bow into position, "Keep your arms straight but relaxed and pull the string back with your arrow." The child took a shaky breath and did as instructed with Himelon there holding onto his to guide his movements.
"Feel how the string tenses and the wood bends?" Himelon whispered gently and the elfling nodded, "Then point the arrow and the center of the target with both eyes open and let it fly." As the elfling took aim The raven haired male released him and took a few steps back. As certain as the sun rises the red eyed elfling's arrow flew straight into the bull's-eye of the target.
"I did it," the red eyed youth more gasped than said as he turned to look at his instructor, "I did it! Did you see that?" As the reality sunk in for the young elf he became ever more excited and fired off a few more to make certain he knew how to do it. Ultimately the red eyed elfling latched onto Himelon's leg and was jumping around like most children do when they're excited. Himelon let and small smile cross his face and a gentle laugh broke from his lips while watching the child. The raven haired elf could practically feel the glare of the two guards who were most certainly still keeping an eye on him. More than once a Silvan elf or two had expressed their dislike of him being around the elflings. Yet no one seemed to care to stop him if he was only dealing with the misfits.
"Hey," Himelon announced as he grabbed onto the red eyed elfling's arm to stop his excited parade, "How about we go get something sweet from the kitchen as a reward?" Shortly after a gasp and a look of uncertainty the elfling gave a sharp nod and they were off through the winding path of the palace of Greenwood The Great.
Baking pies. It was a hobby Thranduil had taken up back in his younger days as Prince of Greenwood. It was a good stress reliever and seemed to help him focus on what needed to be done while he worked. His hobby was, unfortunately, looked down upon by most. Cooking and baking were tasks for servants and women not Princes and Kings. At least that was the common opinion so naturally he only entertained his pie making in secret. He would occasionally sneak down to the kitchens near nightfall when most everyone was busy doing something else. Since the kitchen was always stocked with the freshest ingredients there was never any trouble being able to make a pie perfect for any season or worry he may have. The flavor of the day this time was blueberry and the problem he was working out was the matter of going North.
There had been a council meeting and this time it was decided who would go north to face the orcs that were terrorizing the elfish trading posts. It was also decided when. On the side of the who it was to be him and his most skilled warriors. They were the closest and were thereby selected to go. Of course it hadn't been entirely against his will. Thranduil understood the reasoning behind it and was unable to find a reason to disagree. If the information they had been given was correct there wouldn't be too much trouble. Just a few orc packs that needed to be put back in their place. It had been initially reported that there were dragons but apparently those scaled furnaces had passed to different prey upon realizing there was no treasure to be found in the trading towns. And yet Thranduil felt so uneasy about this. It wasn't his first time going to war and the battle for Middle Earth had been plenty trying. But something just didn't feel right. The starlight haired King couldn't put his finger on it but something was not as it seemed. He was worried there was something more to this trading post battle and he was anxious about leaving Greenwood and Himelon.
No matter how many pies he baked or how long he sought solace in his forest Thranduil simply could not put the raven haired elf from his mind. The time that they were to leave and go North was only two weeks away as well. Thranduil had ordered for preparations to be made the moment he knew but the closeness of leaving was unnerving. From Greenwood it would take three days to reach the trading towns if they didn't stop and rest. It would take five if they did stop to rest. Thranduil had yet to decide if they should stop along the way. Their kin needed aid as quickly as possible and going without rest would be no problem if they truly were dealing with only orcs. However if there was something else to this then resting would be wise so that everyone would be able to perform their best.
With a sigh and a hand full of flour the Elven King set himself to beginning to make the first of three blueberry pies. With elegant movements and light footsteps Thranduil made quick work of the first pie and set it to baking. As the first finished the second was ready to go in and as that finished the third began baking. Letting out a long sigh as he finished the third pie Thranduil plopped down on a seat and cut into the first of the pies seeing as how it was cool enough to eat and the others were still too hot from the oven. Just as he was finishing the slice he'd been eating on the starlight haired elf king's ears picked up on the sound of footsteps heading for the kitchen.