Chapter 28

What Makes a King

Erynlith had never felt so needed before.

It was hard to believe that some weeks ago; she was Captain of the Elven-guard. Now, she was pacing back and forth in the palace. It felt different to be back in a dress, to have a long skirt limiting her movements. For years she was required to wear nothing but the heavy tunic and trousers; now, she felt like a lady again. And she was needed by everyone. Elrond and Círdan often turned to her for assistance for both elf lords were unfamiliar of the ways in the Woodland Realm. Erestor was fine at his own pace, and he was incredibly independent. The dark-haired Celairis also moved at her own pace; the management of the palace relied heavily on her while the prince was occupied.

Thranduil let no one near him except Erynlith, and she did not mind at all. With some of Santien's lessons, Erynlith learned how to dress a bandage properly, to coat his injuries with medicinal herbs, and everything. It had been a few weeks ever since their arrival, and Elrond visited Thranduil every once in a while. He tried to give hints about their plan of returning to Rivendell, also Erestor's plan of taking his sister with him, but Thranduil had always snorted it off.

"It's hopeless," Elrond whispered to Erestor when they were back in the palace's drawing room.

"Perhaps what is needed is direct approach, direct words," Círdan offered. "But let me tell you: it will be hard for them, not when Thranduil relies on Erynlith for his recovery. And he is restless and he is angry with everyone."

"He grieves still for their loss, and he refuses kingship," Elrond added. He had no idea why he was troubling himself with that matter. It was a decision Thranduil needed to make.

"Either way, Eryn still has to return with us," Erestor pressed. It was rare for him to demand something, but he had an explanation behind it. There was no reason for Erynlith to stay in Greenwood. With King Amdír lost, no one would watch over her the way the previous king did. Amroth was occupied with duties that he could not keep an eye on her anymore. And what if the orcs attacked again? Erestor would not risk that happening. He had sacrificed many years without her, and there would be no more.

"Does she already know?" Círdan asked.

Erestor shook his head. "Yes. I have made my intentions clear for her, and she understands. Although she still seems to choose and stay by Thranduil's side…"

"Let them be for a while," Elrond interjected. "Thranduil needs his time to rest."

In the grand chambers of the soon-to-be Elvenking, the silence was very much appreciated. For days none dared to enter unless the prince willed it, and those who did not ask for permission were shrugged off. He liked his time alone, to ponder in his thoughts, to decide things on his own. He was alone in this decision, to become king. Years before, he was ecstatic about the idea of taking his father's crown and rule his people. Now, he doubted everything. He doubted the words of his counselor; he doubted Elrond's careful words. How could a blind Elvenking rule his people?

Thranduil paused at that thought. From his desk, he carefully brought his fingers on the white cloth wrapped around his eyes. It had been weeks of darkness, and darkness was not entirely new to him now. The pain that lingered there after the battle had vanished, but the memory was bitter. Elrond assured him that his sight would return after a few more weeks. His patience was running thin, and he needed no pity from the elves around him. That was the outmost reason why he isolated himself; he did not want to be pitied on, to receive assuring words from others.

Behind him, he heard the soft creaking of his chamber doors. He tilted his head slightly, feeling the presence of another elf. As he faced his desk, his hand continued to his previous business, a sketch he was trying to finish. His days locked in the chambers were boring, and he was always left to himself. The sketch he was working on was rather a product of his complete boredom, and he himself did not know how it looked like. The image was engraved in his mind. He heard no footsteps behind him, and he hid a curling smile.

"If you think you can sneak up on me, think again," he said gently, turning to the side of his desk and tapping his nails on the table.

Erynlith smiled sheepishly, although knowing he could not see. She brought a silver tray in her hands, filled with the herbs Elrond and Santien recommended. "You make feel terrible for not doing so, tra-lay," she sang, walking towards his desk.

Thranduil chuckled lowly. "Erfaron should be better than just sneaking up on me."

"Don't get me started with that, tra-lo," she snorted and peeked over his shoulder. On the small sheet of paper, she could see the rough sketch that Thranduil did out of boredom. "What is that?"

"What do you think?" he said, lifting the paper up. He knew he couldn't see his work, but it couldn't be that bad. He waited for an answer from her, but she seemed to be buffering. He sighed exasperatedly. "It's a foliage, you silly elf. Remember the one you gave me years ago?"

"Oh, yes," she finally said in realization and handed the paper back to him. She laid the tray on his desk, removing the other drawing tools the prince had gathered there. "Santien wants to visit here, but I told her no. Do you want to reconsider?"

He shook his head quickly. "I don't want others here, especially Elrond."

"Why not?" Erynlith continued the conversation, laying out the things she needed. Bandages and ointment, a cup of wine for his liking. She grabbed a chair and sat in front of him, her hands reaching behind his head to remove the bandages. Thranduil sat still, occasionally sipping from his wine.

"He has been talking nonstop about something," he replied irritably.

When the bandages slipped from his eyes, he tried to blink, just like he always did, but darkness greeted him. Inwardly, he seethed. He had had enough of this everlasting darkness! He yearned for the light, for the faces of his friends and people, for the trees and blooming flowers, and most importantly, for her smile. All he could do was to imagine how she looked like after seven years, and it made his mood fouler by the passing second.

Erynlith knew well that he was frustrated. She could not do anything about his temporary blindness, and every night she sang as short prayer to the Valar. To reassure him, she brushed her fingers on his long lashes and tapped his nose lightly.

"Stop growling, tra-la," she teased, pulling the bandages away for new ones.

"I can't help it." He scoffed. "I am so done with everything and everyone."

"Even me?" she suggested, her voice laced with sadness.

Quickly, Thranduil flinched and shook his head. "What? No, of course not! Never!"

She laughed heartily at his defensiveness. She poured the ointment on her hands to soothe his aching cheek. The left cheek was still heavily burned and Elrond mentioned that it would take years to heal. "Hold still. This might sting."

"Everything stinks." He glowered, and then sighed at her gentle touch.

She laughed again. "I said sting, Thranduil, not stink."

"I know, Erfaron," he emphasized the name.

Erynlith pouted as the brooding Prince of Greenwood in front of her began to frown once more. She looked around the room, trying to come up with something that could lighten his mood. Then, suddenly, she burst into cheerful singing:

*"Yellow, yellow flower, dancing in the sun.

Oh yellow, yellow flower, you tell me spring has come.

I can hear a blue bird sing, and hear a robin call.

But yellow, yellow flower I love you most of all!"

Thranduil laughed and clapped his hands in delight. "Wonderful, Erfaron. You make a better minstrel than Captain of the Guards."

For a moment there was silence, before he remembered something of importance.

"Has Elrond mentioned something yet about returning to Rivendell?" He wanted to press that conversation between them. He was no fool not to notice Elrond's insistence on the matter. He merely shrugged of every hint Elrond gave him, and he knew it was troubling the half-elven.

Erynlith pursed her lips, and began pulling a new roll of bandages for his eyes. His wine was almost finished, and he thirsted for more. Gently, she raked her hands on his pale golden mane, soothing all the slight tangles before slipping the bandages behind his head.

"Erestor mentioned it once… I think, tra-lo," she answered and saw the furrowing of his brows. "He really wants to go home, tra-lay. The remaining elves from Rivendell think the same. And Lord Círdan is restless. It is a shame the High King never returned… I miss him."

"You are close to him?" Thranduil asked out of curiosity. The hands behind his head were removed and he was already missing her touch. He felt something pressed on his lips, and he parted them slightly, allowing the liquor to slide down his throat. Instantly, he recoiled from the cup and openly shuddered. "What in Arda was that?! That better be not one of Santien's concoctions!"

"It is." Erynlith laughed, placing the cup aside. "And no, not really. I mean, I know him only as probably the most important elf in all of Middle-earth, and I don't really talk to him, tra-lil-lay. He does talk to me, though. He was… very friendly… Feeling better?"

Thranduil flicked his tongue, trying to remove the nasty taste. "I think I feel worse."

"You have to get used to it," she replied and began cleaning up the desk. "Do you want to return to your bed?"

He shook his head, already standing. "I don't need help."

"Oh," was all she could mumble. She watched as Thranduil stood up from his chair and dropped on the edge of his bed. He had already got used to the darkness, and he memorized ever corner of the room. He knew exactly where the desk was, the bookshelf, his wardrobe, and the curtains. His stern decline of her help proved his pride and independence, and all she wanted to do was help. She continued to watch as he slipped beneath the white covers, groaning slightly on the pain rising in his back.

"Do not take it too seriously," he whispered. "I did not mean for it to sound so… demanding." Both of them fell silent. So, he continued: "Back to Elrond and that matter about Rivendell…"

"What about it?" She casually asked, although she preferred not to discuss it.

"Are you leaving with them?"

She hesitated. Erestor had made his intentions clear to her, and she understood. But she chose to ignore it, knowing that she could still spend more time in Greenwood. "I do not know," she answered, and it was the truth.

Thranduil nodded quietly. "Do you want to leave?"

"No."

"But do you want to return to Rivendell?" He tried pushing his luck on her again.

Erynlith pressed her lips before answering. "Well, yes… I haven't been home for quite a while now. I wonder what has changed, tra-la."

Again, Thranduil nodded pensively. "I will rest for now. Will you return here for dinner? And stay here after that as well? Oh, and be a good girl and bring me wine when you return. Thank you, Erfaron." He smirked and even under the bandages, she knew his eyes were glinting in mischief.

"Enough with the Erfaron or I will not bring you your precious wine."

"Okay, no," he quickly replied, still chuckling.

And then, silence followed. He received no response from his friend. Carefully, the latch on his chamber doors sounded, and he knew he was left once more to himself. His smile faded into frown, that same forced smile he always had when she was around. Now that he was alone, he could ponder more to himself. And those bitter thoughts were always successful into lulling him to sleep.

It was almost dinnertime and the kitchen was bustling. Cooks ran to and fro, preparing several dishes for their guests to serve, and more importantly, the soon-to-be Elvenking. He was quite picky with his food ever since his return, but his wine was consistent. Erynlith entered the kitchen and approached the cook and spared him a few words. In a few moments, her hands were occupied by another silver tray, ready to be delivered to the elf prince. As she turned to leave, she bumped onto someone, spilling the wine on the elegant blue robes and shattering the glass.

"Oh, no!" She exclaimed, and looking up, it was Erestor. His robe was drenched with the liquor and he gasped at the sudden wetness. "Oh, Erestor! I am so sorry!" She attempted to grab a washcloth, but accidentally snatched the table mantle instead, and all the food was splattered on the wooden floor with a loud shattering of glass.

Everyone gasped.

"Oh, boy…" Erynlith breathed and turned to everyone. They were all glaring at her, with the exception of Erestor. Slowly, she dropped the mantle and knelt to clean the mess. Erestor quickly knelt beside her. "No, oh, please, no. Erestor, stop," she pleaded him.

He shook his head. "It'll be over soon."

The Silvan watched as the two elves helped each other in cleaning up the kitchen mess. Erynlith thoroughly expressed her apology to the distressed cook and his helpers. But the cook was in a terrible mood and shouted at her for messing everything. She bit her lip and nodded, and then slipped from the back of the kitchen. Erestor followed her outside, his elegant blue robe still damp. Erynlith noticed and tapped the damp part, hoping to get it dry soon.

"I am very sorry, brother, tra-la," she sang, smiling up at him. "Too clumsy for the kitchen, huh?"

He laughed softly. "Oh, I'll say. You're better off in the outpost than in the kitchen. Are you alright? The cook shouted at you too much?"

"I really deserve it, you know. Now, they'll have to redo everything they worked for. I just hope Thranduil is not yet too hungry or he'll lash out in anger, tra-la." She trailed it off with a slight laughter. Suddenly, she turned sober, and her probing hands on his robe stopped to clutch the cloth on his chest.

In an instant, he looked at her worriedly. "What's the matter?"

"He scares me, Erestor. Thranduil really does. I don't know what has gotten into him, tra-lo. Our conversations are always lighthearted like before, but there is something about him that always scares me. I am not sure if it is the scowling or the harsh words about other people, but…" She sniffed, as though she was a crying elfling.

"Does he speak rashly to you?" Erestor questioned, instantly annoyed. Thranduil had isolated himself with Erynlith, and Erestor had no idea how they usually spent their time together in the chambers.

"That's not what I meant!" She was quick to defend the elf prince. "What I am trying to say is: Thranduil is different. He is not the same laidback and haughty elf that I remember. I know it has something to do with the loss of King Oropher, or maybe even King Amdír and the High King. Or maybe what drive him frustrated always are his wounds, tra-lay. He always complains about his eyes, how he wanted to see and do things like before. I sympathize with him, I really do, but he shrugs everything off, tra-lo. His greatly dislikes the idea of Elrond and the others staying here. It is like he doesn't want other people around him. I don't know what else to do, Erestor."

"He seems to enjoy your company," he offered uselessly.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, thank you for noticing. But… you said so yourself, right? Should I really return to Rivendell? Can I not stay here for a few more years?"

"Eryn, Thranduil cannot rely on you forever. He is supposed to be an Elvenking soon. He will have countless of counselors and captains to attend to his every need. You have no reason to stay… unless you decide to pledge yourself to him."

Erynlith gasped at that unthinkable offer. "Erestor! Do you even hear yourself?"

"I know! I'm sorry I mentioned it. But unless you have some sort of commitment here in Greenwood, you cannot stay any longer. Everyone in Rivendell misses you: Lady Celebrían, Lindir, and Gildor— especially Gildor. He is already ticked off to travel with you again, and to influence you with his crazy antics. And Elrond and I need you." Erestor paused and placed both hands on her shoulders, holding her firmly. She looked up to him attentively, her grey eyes meeting his own. "Do you remember what the High King asked of you before he left?"

She tried to remember. It had been so freaking long. "To stay by Elrond's side in Rivendell, because he will need us, tra-lay."

"Exactly," Erestor said and kissed her forehead. "Do the High King a favor, please. I am sure he will appreciate it from the White Shores."

She nodded. "But what of Thranduil? Elrond says it will still take months for him to recover. And his eyesight is still terrible, tra-la…"

"I would be more worried about his kingship."

"What do you mean by that?"

He blinked at her. How could she not know? She spent more time with the elf prince, right? Thranduil must have given her hints. It was either Erynlith was back in her usual clueless self or the prince never really made mention of his plan. Erestor shook his head in answer.

"Thranduil plans to refuse the kingship, to refuse his father's crown and be Elvenking."

"No…" She gasped. "How could he even think of that?"

"Apparently, he does. Elrond thinks Thranduil will refuse the kingship without waiting for his full recovery. He feels too down to be king at the moment."

"Then enlighten him." She shrugged.

"That's it," the other elf beamed at her. "Eryn, you're a genius!"

"I know, brother, tra-la!" She sang happily.

"No! I mean, yes, you should really enlighten Thranduil. Coax him into becoming king." Now, Erestor was filled with hope. He sincerely wanted Thranduil to take the crown.

"I don't go around coaxing people to do things, brother…" Erynlith countered.

"But he needs you… Before returning to Rivendell, give him your final counsel." And with that, Erestor left, the need to replace with damp robe had risen. At this new conversation, he wanted to see Elrond and Círdan. He believed Erynlith could talk things out with Thranduil.

He never listened to anyone except her, after all.

*Flower Song - Writer unknown

Author's Notes: Brooding Thranduil! *shudders* I think he needs more love. Awww. I think we would have a little misunderstanding between Eryn and Thrandy, so we shall see how it would turn out. Stay tuned!

*Limbairedhiel - No worries; fabulous Thrandy will not stay blind for too long. I could imagine him going, "It's just a phase!", and then walk away. Even if he needs Eryn, there is also Erestor, sooo there could be a catfight. LOL.

*Asmodeus Black - Guess you'll have to read more to find out. Ha-ha! And I hope this quick (?) update satisfies you. Cheers!

*Nuredhel - Oh, welcome! Nice to have you here! Thank you for a wonderful review! Eryn could sure be a handful. You could ask Erestor about it. XD

*llcyyxx - I am glad Erestor is faring well in your home. I could be a little mischievous once he gets comfortable there. Mixing honey and milk seems very helpful; I should try that with Thrandy next time, to make him stop brooding. And awww, good luck on your Duke of Edinburgh practices! Say hi to the #scaryllamas for me!

*xSiriuslyPadfoot - Loki with a kitty! How sweet! Yes, poor Thrandy. *sniffs* Oh, and about the Haldir/OC fic, I still haven't written anything but I have the plot and personality of the characters planned. Hopefully, after some of my other stories, I could start and publish it right away! Sorry of it takes too long.

*Rousdower - Heyyy, Rousy! Erestor has been a bad elf lately. Bad, Erestor, bad!

*Charlottees - Welcome and pleased to meet you! Thank you for such a wonderful review; I have been grinning like a child while reading it. And about An Unexpected Adventure, it is my first story and the way of writing and plot is very amateur. *cringes* Hope you enjoy this story more. See you~!

P.S. Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy reading the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you all next time!