Work Text:
Thranduil Oropherion was happily occupied coloring pictures. He had his own table in his father's spacious, sunny office. Thranduil liked coloring, but he was a little sad. They had been supposed to go to the zoo that day while his mother Felith and Ivoniel went shopping, but then Thranduil's father got a message, looked angry, and said that he had to go to the palace so that he could write a bunch of letters. Thranduil didn't want his father to miss out on the zoo, so he said he'd go to work with Ada and try to help him get his work done faster so that they could go to the zoo sooner. Oropher didn't think that was likely, but he had thanked Thranduil for accompanying him. Thranduil was unimpressed with the entire situation, on the whole, but he did like to color. And since his mother wasn't here, it was a good opportunity to draw a picture just for her. He wanted to use lots of blue, since Thranduil thought his mother looked very pretty in blue. And then, to add insult to injury, Thranduil's blue wax stick broke.
"Ada," Thranduil complained to Oropher, "I need a blue one. It broke."
"Hmm," remarked Oropher, not even looking at Thranduil.
Sighing, Thranduil went over and climbed into his father's lap. Once he had Oropher's attention, Thranduil showed him the broken blue wax stick. "Both pieces are too small to color with." Thranduil explained sadly.
"I'm sorry, laes-nin," Oropher said with some sympathy, "But why don't you just use another color."
"Because I need this one." Thranduil explained, his voice beginning to show his frustration.
"I'll get you one soon, Thranduil," Oropher said with exasperation, putting his son back down on the floor and gently pushing Thranduil in the direction of his drawings and the other wax sticks.
Thranduil waited, for awhile. Apparently, soon didn't really mean soon. So he sighed again, and walked to the door. He paused there, waiting for his father to notice him. When Oropher didn't, Thranduil decided that he could probably go out and find a wax stick on his own, before his father even noticed.
Thranduil walked down the hall. None of the other offices looked familiar, except for his Uncle Vehiron's which was dark and closed. Thranduil was thinking that perhaps this wasn't the best idea and he should just go back and wait for his father to supply him with a wax stick, when he saw a familiar office, all lit up, with an elf working inside. It was Elrond's office. Thranduil's face lit up, because he liked Lord Elrond and thought that Lord Elrond would most certainly be willing to lend him a wax stick.
But the ellon at Lord Elrdon's desk wasn't Elrond. Thranduil paused at the threshold in surprise.
The delicate, dark-haired, dark-eyed ellon looked up at Thranduil, appearing even more astonished than Thranduil. After a moment, his mouth widened into a welcoming smile. "Ah...hello?" The ellon said to Thranduil, his expression kind but bemused.
Thranduil tilted his head at the strange ellon. Brushing a blond lock away from his blue eyes, Thranduil reflected that he was glad that this strange dark-haired elf wasn't like the mean, ick advisors who had been mean to him, stolen his rabbit, and who routinely made his father angry and frustrated. This elf even reminded Thranduil of cousin Elrond, as there was a gentle manner to him. But still, he was NOT Lord Elrond, so Thranduil indignantly asked, "Who are you? Why are you in Lord Elrond's office?"
"Ah...I am Lord Erestor.," The ellon explained, "Lord Elrond is my friend. As a junior advisor to our King, I assist Elrond with many of his duties. Particularly during months when he is out in the field." The ellon brushed back a dark braid, still bemused at the presence of a blond elfling in his domain. Well, Elrond's, but evidently Erestor's as well.
"Oh. That's ok, then, I guess," Thranduil replied, having some trouble picturing the sophisticated, scholarly Lord Elrond in a field.
Erestor's delicate features showed his gentle amusement, as he said gravely, "I am glad that you approve. May I ask your name, tithen pen?"
Thranduil cocked his head inquisitively. He'd thought that everyone knew who he was, and he recalled something his parents had said about not speaking to strangers. After the last time he'd ended up meeting Ereinion's other advisors, Thranduils was a bit cautious of making the acquaintance of any others. But Erestor seemed nice, and he was a friend of Elrond's, so Thranduil supposed that it was alright. "I'm Thranduil," He answered, "And I'm thirsty and I need a blue wax stick. Can I have one of Lord Elrond's?
Erestor blinked in surprise, "Ah...we have wine, I can water it down for you. And it's 'may' you have a wax stick...wait, hmm, perhaps "can" is actually correct. I'm not entirely sure that Elrond has wax sticks of any color whatsoever. Whatever do you need one for?"
"For coloring pictures, of course." Thranduil informed Erestor, thinking that although Erestor was nice, he might be a bit slow. Thranduil accepted the watered wine with a perplexed expression. He sipped it to be polite, but couldn't avoid screwing his face up in disgust at the bitter taste.
Erestor chuckled a bit at that, just as Lord Elrond and a really, really tall blond elf arrived. They were both dressed like warriors, in plain but well-made leather and chain-link armor, and were covered in sweat and dirt.
Thranduil stared at seeing Elrond dressed very differently than he had ever seen him before. Elrond almost seemed like a different elf entirely, focused and stern, until he knelt down beside Thranduil. Then Thranduil could see that Lord Elrond's eyes were still kind, as he asked Thranduil in affectionate exasperation, "What are you doing here, Thranduil?"
"Um. Looking for wax sticks. How do you do your work, not having any?" Thranduil replied, curious.
Lord Elrond sighed, "It's always nice to see you, my elfling cousin, but I think that your father must not know where you are."
Thranduil tried to gather up his courage to take another sip of the disgusting drink so that he could stay longer, because Lord Elrond right about that, and Thranduil had a feeling that his father wouldn't like Thranduil having gone off to find Lord Elrond himself. Even though Thranduil was obviously quite capable of doing so, and even though Oropher had failed in his promise to find Thranduil another blue wax stick 'soon.' Thranduil's father was unfair like that, sometimes.
Elrond squeezed Thranduil on the shoulder, nodded towards Glorfindel and Thranduil's cup, and then departed by himself to fetch Oropher, with the cryptic explanation, "He'll take it best from me."
Glorfindel gracefully plucked the cup out of Thranduil's hands, and gave Erestor an incredulous look. "Wine," he asked the young advisor, "For an ELFLING?"
Erestor looked baffled, "Well, we didn't have any fruit juice. It seemed rude not to offer him something."
Glorfindel muttered something, smacking Lord Erestor very gently on the hip, before giving him a look, which made the young Lord sigh.
Thranduil gazed at Glorfindel in admiration. "Your hair is very pretty." He complimented the warrior elf, just as Lord Elrond returned with Thranduil's father Oropher in tow. Oropher had that expression on his face, the mixture of relief and anger, that always let Thranduil know that he was in big trouble. Getting smacked with the ruler type of trouble. Then when Oropher heard Thranduil's very nice, polite compliment to Lord Glorfindel, Thranduil's father turned a pecuilar shade of puce. Thranduil couldn't even show his mother later; he didn't have a puce wax stick. He could ask for one, for his birthday. Although he might not. Puce wasn't a particularly attractive shade, not even on an elf as handsome as his father Oropher.
Lord Elrond was looking away from Lord Glorfindel, but his lips were quirking into a smile he couldn't hide. Lord Erestor was looking down, but he looked almost as if he was trying not to laugh.
"Well," Glorfindel commented in a grave, proud, and pleased tone, "My hair is very pretty, it's true. Thank you for the compliment, elfling."
Elrond had to step out of the room, and Thranduil could hear him collapsing in laughter. Lord Erestor had sat on the desk chair and put several scrolls in front of him, as he silently shook with mirth. Even Thranduil's father looked very, very amused. And a little horrified.
Glorfindel gave Oropher, Erestor, and the door beyond which Elrond was still trying to get ahold of himself a fierce look, before giving Thranduil a smile, "Thranduil's compliment honored me," turning back to the others, Glorfindel added in a threatening tone of voice, "For you two...you three, there will be retribution. Trust me."
"What's retribution, Lord Glorfindel?" Thranduil asked.
At that point, Oropher put his hands on his son's shoulders, and gently led him from the room, back to Oropher's own office. "Retribution, Thranduil," Oropher began to explain, sitting in his desk chair with Thranduil in his lap, "is punishment which is considered to be justified by the foolishness of the actions of the elf about to be punished."
Suspecting that this lecture related unpleasantly to his current condition, Thranduil sighed and made his apologies for wandering off, although he couldn't help but point out that Oropher had not helped him find a new blue wax stick 'soon,' and that if his father had, Thranduil would not have had to go off in search of one. That true statement seemed to only result in an extra swat for Thranduil, and so it was an unhappy, sore elfling who went back to his coloring after receiving a spanking and cuddles from his busy father. Sniffling, Thranduil reflected that he still didn't have a good blue wax stick, so he still couldn't finish his picture. Thranduil put his head down on his desk. It wasn't turning out to be a good day at all.
A knock at the door interrupted Oropher's work and Thranduil's despondence. It was Lord Glorfindel and Lord Elrond. They were both clean, and Lord Elrond was again dressed in the fine, soft robes which Thranduil was more accustomed to seeing him in. Lord Glorfindel was dressed in more modern tunic and leggings and still bore his sword, but he also had a colorful box with him. One that Thranduil recognized, and his face lit up with a bright smile.
Glorfindel handed the box with a flourish to Thranduil, "Blue wax sticks, and some other colors as well, for a fine and persistent young artist."
Thranduil was delighted. Oropher, somewhat less so.
"That is very kind of you, Lord Glorfindel, but it might be best not to reward my son for his disobedient and reckless behavior." Oropher told Glorfindel, not entirely hiding the annoyance in his voice, while Thranduil held onto his present and hoped that his father wouldn't make him give it back. To try and forestall such a sad thing, Thranduil piped up politely, "Thank you, Lord Glorfindel!"
Oropher gave his son a skeptical look, while Glorfindel grinned widely. To Oropher, Glorfindel remarked heartily, "Well, your lad took the punishment for his crime. He might as well get a reward for his bravery."
Oropher shook his head at the folly of that, but to Thranduil's relief made no further action towards taking Thranduil's new wax sticks away. Instead, his father started talking to Lord Elrond about boring work things.
Lord Glorfindel seemed almost as bored as Thranduil, despite Elrond occasionally trying to get Glorfindel to participate.
Smiling brilliantly at his new benefactor, Thranduil asked, "Lord Glorfindel, will you tell me a story?"
Glorfindel smiled back at Thranduil, then smirked cheerfully at his Lord and Oropher. "I most certainly will, Thranduil," Glorfindel replied, making himself at home on a settee in Oropher's office, and patting the space beside him where Thranduil cheerfully hopped up. "You may call me Lord Glor, as these heathens do," Lord Glorfindel told Thranduil with a gesture towards Lord Elrond and the recently arrived Lord Erestor. Then Lord Glorfindel began his story.
"Once upon a time, there was a handsome warrior elf with pretty hair, called Captain Goldilocks. He tried very hard to teach his students to be good, obedient, respectful soldiers, but they would have none of it. Their names were Hir Dithen Nin, Hir Lais Nin, and Hir Oropher," Lord Glorfindel started in a bright, sonorous story-teller type voice. Thranduil quite approved, although he thought that 'my little lord' and 'my baby lord' were odd names. But the third name...
"Oropher is my father's name." Thranduil noted, pleased that an elf with his father's name got to be in the story.
"What a coincidence," Lord Glorfindel noted blandly, although he gave Thranduil a mischevious grin and a wink, before he continued, "In any case, despite Lord Goldilocks' best efforts to protect them, his students were turned into laughing hyenas for their wicked ways."
"Oh, really..." Complained Thranduil's father Oropher, clearly exasperated.
Elrond chuckled, "Oh, he's just getting started. Don't let it bother you Oropher. Reacting just encourages him."
Glorfindel sniffed haughtily, and then continued his story. Thranduil fell asleep halfway through the hyenas' quest to earn the right to be turned back into elves, and Lord Elrond and Lord Erestor had to leave on other errands.
Left alone, Oropher seemed to let go of his annoyance with Lord Glorfindel. Instead, the dark-haired advisor sat down, gazing fondly at his son.
"I love him, but he is mischief incarnate.," Oropher said quietly of Thranduil, "He's never where he's supposed to be. He always wanders off, how am I to protect him when I do not even know where he is or what he has found to get up to?"
Glorfindel shifted the sleeping Thranduil into his father's lap with infinite care and gentleness, before confessing quietly to Oropher, "I had a son, once. In Gondolin."
"I am...so sorry, Lord Glorfindel." Oropher replied, thinking how unbearably awful it must be to lose a child.
Glorfindel nodded in recognition, appearing very different from the stern, capable King's warrior and Peredhel's protector whom Oropher had always known. Softly, Lord Glorfindel continued, "My son's name was Glorendil. In appearance, he took after his mother. Dark hair, dark eyes, fine features. An incredibly lovely elfling who matured into an exceptionally handsome ellon. But his spirit was all mine, and he was never, ever where he was supposed to be. He was into everything, always rushing...we fought almost every day, for all we loved eachother to distraction. Then he was a young soldier, and I had to watch him ride into battle..." Glorfindel paused, and took a deep breath, shaking his head.
Oropher stroked the sleeping Thranduil's soft hair, "I hope that it will be many long yeni before I ever need to see my son a warrior." Oropher had a moment where he suddenly pictured his baby son grown, a tall soldier with sparkling blue eyes who wore his gold warrior's braids with pride and honor. Pushing that pleasing yet frightening image aside, Oropher murmured aloud, "Given Thranduil's mischeif and stubbornness, I must wonder what kind of soldier he would make? He would drive many a tutor and arms training master to exasperation, of that I am sure."
Glorfindel answered Oropher's question with haunted, shadowed eyes, "He is your son, Lord Oropher, and you will teach him well. He will make a good soldier, a good leader." Glorfindel took a harsh breath, and his expression softened, sympathy evident in his expression as he firmly counselled, "But now...in these days, enjoy the time. He may not do what he is told particularly often, but he has a kind heart. Do not wish him to be other than he is."
And with that enigmatic advice, Lord Glorfindel departed, leaving Oropher bemused, but glad that he had accepted the aid of his cousin Elrond and young Lord Erestor to finish the project which had called him into the office today. Now his next day would be free, and he could take Thranduil to the zoo.