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It was very pleasant, to laze about on a lounger on the poolside terrace of Legolas’ estate outside of Marillaeglir. The warm sun above and the cool sea breeze caressing Thranduil’s skin made for a delicious contrast of sensations.
Even more pleasant was the knowledge that, just by opening his eyes, Thranduil could enjoy a truly incredible view. That being, the hills of pine, olive trees, and tropical flowers leading down to the azure water of the Strait of the West. Marillaeglir was just across the water from Alqualonde, at the narrowest point between Tol Eressea and mainland Aman. Today, as most days in the past week, the weather was clear enough for Thranduil to see not just glimmers from the jewel strewn beaches outside of Alqualonde, but even the white-purple mountains of the Pelori rising beyond.
The company, of course, was better than the view. Most of the family members assembled at the estate were taking an afternoon siesta after a morning spent riding up further into the mountains surrounding Mariallaeglir to visit with one of the semi-domesticated tribes of mountain apes who made their home there. That expedition had been followed by an energetic few hours in the cold spring-fed pool here at the house. Any time spent entertaining Thranduil’s very active young grandson Caeven and his best friend, Theli’s granddaughter Arwengail, was always exhausting. Fun, though.
On the lounger to Thranduil’s left lay his father Oropher. To their right, Elrond dozed lightly on a third lounger. He was less accustomed to time spent with small children than they were, these days.
Thranduil opened his eyes to appreciate the view. Then he got to his feet and walked over to the wrought iron archway leading down to the lower garden terrace. From that point he had an even better view of the sea and the mountains of Aman on the other side.
As he soaked in the beautiful surrounds, Thranduil couldn’t help but keep an eye out for the speck in the clear blue sky that would turn into Legolas’ flying machine, on its way back from the afternoon run in between Tirion and Marillaeglir. He knew that it was silly of him. It was a half an hour, at least, until Legolas would return. Even if he was running early, which he usually wasn’t.
Nor was there any real reason to worry over Legolas. Not even when he was so high up in the air, in a fragile construct made out of metal, wood, and clay. Thranduil trusted Legolas, and he trusted their cousin Theli, who was Legolas’ co-pilot. He even trusted That Annoying Dwarf Gimli, who was with them as their flight engineer. Thranduil may still not like Gimli. Or, at least, be willing to admit, even to himself, that he was starting to like him. But he did trust all three of them, to know what they were about in any dangerous endeavor.
Thranduil’s father Oropher, whom Thranduil had oftentimes caught scanning the skies, was less enthusiastic than Thranduil about flight as an avocation for Legolas. Thranduil hid a smile, at the thought.
Then his eyes moved gradually from the clear skies to the blue-green water. The normally calm sea was studded with white caps, today.
This Thranduil observed with interest, before calling back to the terrace, “Elrond!”
“Hmm?” replied his cousin, waking and stretching without rancor.
“Thranduil,” chided his father mildly. Oropher did not seem to feel it had been necessary to wake Elrond.
This, also, made Thranduil hide a smile. In lieu of responding to the scold, he continued with his purpose of communicating to Elrond, “The daily newsletter from Marillaeglir reports that they expect the wind conditions to be similar tomorrow. Do you want to go windsurfing?”
He was rewarded by the always pleasing sight of Elrond’s normally calm and wise countenance wreathed with a wide smile as the peredhel answered, “I would very much like that, yes.”
“Good. It’s decided, then,” ruled Thranduil. Theli would likely want to join them, along with some of their children and grandchildren. It also occurred to Thranduil to ask, “Would you like to join us, Ada?”
“No, thank you, my son,” declined Oropher, although he seemed pleased to have been asked. “I think I’d rather follow the two of you only so far as the shoreline,” Oropher continued, “On the beach, I can supervise Caeven and Arwengail as they play in the water and on the sand. They’ve both expressed a desire to build sandcastles sometime this week.”
Thranduil smiled as he recalled his father and mother helping him to build sandcastles by the river near Amon Lanc in the Greenwood, when he had been an elfling. Elrond had been there sometimes, too. He’d been even better than Oropher and Felith, at coming up with ideas for how to build and decorate elaborate sand castles.
“I would, however,” Oropher continued more sternly, “appreciate a promise to be careful in your windsurfing. From both of you.”
Elrond, who was almost always careful, immediately offered, “Of course we will.”
Thranduil nodded sententiously, but did not actually offer such a promise as he returned to his lounger. He preferred not to make promises that he did not care to keep.
Alas, he had made the mistake of walking to close to Oropher. Who raised one strong arm to smack Thranduil soundly on his right buttock, before lifting his hand higher to take a firm hold of Thranduil’s arm just above his elbow.
“Ow!” exclaimed Thranduil at the swat, for his father had put some force behind it, and there was only Elrond here to witness him yelping like a spanked elfling.
Oropher met Thranduil eye to eye, raised one eyebrow, and demanded levelly, “Well, laes-nin?”
Fine, we’ll be careful,” conceded Thranduil, much less than graciously. But sincerely, which seemed to satisfy Oropher. He released Thranduil’s arm after one fond – albeit not apologetic – squeeze.
Elrond observed this byplay with a fond, tolerant smile. One too gentle to strike Thranduil as being at his own expense. Elrond, as a general rule, was too kind to tease. Anyone, let alone his adored youngest cousin. Well, youngest until Theli had been born in the late Second Age. Not that any of them had known about Theli being their cousin, at the time. Since the Second Age, their family had expended to include many younger kinsmen, including Elrond’s and Thranduil’s own children. In the Fourth Age, they’d both been lucky enough to acquire grandchildren. Who were, in Thranduil’s opinion, entirely delightful. One did not even have to be firm with grandchildren, since it was their parents who were responsible for seeing that they learned to mind their manners.
“After tomorrow,” Elrond spoke up regretfully, “Celebrian and I will have to take our leave.”
“Must you?” asked Thranduil wistfully. He’d been enjoying having their company. They had all been so busy with their own endeavors in the past few years, that he had barely seen Elrond and Celebrian. Who would always remain two of his favorite cousins, no matter how much their family might expand in the future.
“Yes, I must,” Elrond assured him, with apology evident in his silver-blue eyes. “I am promised to sail on Vingilot with my father next week. He takes it much amiss if he doesn’t see me frequently enough to please him.”
Elrond did not seem entirely displeased by this. Thranduil was happy for him, mostly. Even though he begrudged Earendil Elrond’s leaving them. Thranduil knew that Elrond’s reunion with Earendil – and Elwing – had been awkward and difficult. Elrond had barely remembered Earendil. He’d been absent for much of Elrond’s early life, on his voyages. Then, thanks to the Valar, Earendil and Elwing had been unable to return to Middle Earth. That was one of many things that Thranduil found it difficult to forgive the Valar for. He didn’t think that he was alone, in that, amongst those who loved Elrond.
“Of course you must depart, if you have made a promise to your father,” allowed Oropher graciously. “We will all miss you and Celebrian, though. You are two of my favorite younger cousins.”
“Rude,” teased Thranduil, with a grin.
Oropher hid a smile and flicked his disrespectful son on the thigh. “It is not rude. The others are not here. And no one is more discreet than our Elrond.”
“True,” allowed Thranduil, as he enjoyed Elrond’s blush. “Allow me to apologize by fetching you a cool drink, Ada. What would you like?”
“You need not apologize. The joy of your presence is enough,” replied Oropher contentedly, “Sit here with us a little while longer, before you go back into the house.”
So Thranduil did.