Shattered Light

A/N: Finals are coming up on just a little over a week. Won't get much done until then as I also have to turn in grades for my kids on top of studying for the two exams I need to take. Will get more work down during my month of Christmas vacation, promise!

Chapter 6: A Second Chance

“Elrond?” Thranduil slowly opened the door to the lord of Imladris’ bedroom after knocking and receiving no answer. As usual the drapes were drawn despite it being the middle of the day, plunging the chamber into darkness. Elven eyes adjusted to the lack of light, blue orbs darting around the room to catch a glimpse of its occupant.

Elrond was seated in a chair, his head tilted back and eyes closed. He looked better than he had in weeks, though his face and frame still looked as if the elven lord carried a great weight on his shoulders. Instead of pushing his friends and family away, Elrond had allowed their presence in the recent days, though he still responded little to their inquiries about his health and well-being.

“What is it, Thranduil?” the Peredhel asked quietly without lifting his head or opening his eyes.

Thranduil quietly closed the door before him as he entered the chamber. His steps were light and nearly soundless as he glided over to where the dark-haired elf sat. Kneeling on the floor, Thranduil gazed up, placing his hands lightly upon Elrond’s knees. He waited until the Peredhel had opened his eyes and was looking at him before he spoke. “You need to go out, Elrond. You can’t keep locking yourself in your chamber all day.”

“I do not wish to go out, Thranduil. I am content to be here.”

“Are you?” Thranduil ignored the glare Elrond threw at him and quickly got to his feet, bodily drawing the other elf after him and towards the door. “Let’s go for a walk, Elrond.”

“I don’t want a walk! I want to sit in my rooms and be alone! Why can’t you let me be?”

“Because I’m your friend. I care and worry about you. I’m not about to let you waste your time here on Arda when there are so many other things you could--should--be doing!” Without another word, Thranduil dragged the half-elf out into the sunlight, ignoring Elrond’s protests and the stares the servants gave them as they passed.

Thranduil didn’t stop until the pair found themselves in a secluded part of one of Imladris’ gardens. Side-by-side, they stood in a small clearing, surrounded entirely by blooms of every kind and color, green grass at their feet and bright blue sky above their heads. The Mirkwood King inhaled a deep breath, relishing in the feel of warm sunlight on his back and a gentle breeze ruffling his hair. Turning to gaze at Elrond, he was pleased to find the Peredhel was actually enjoying the outing despite his previous protests.

“See? Isn’t this better than sitting in your stuffy old room all day?”

Elrond managed to throw a very unconvincing glare towards the blond elf before a faint smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “It does feel nice,” he murmured, slowly closing his storm gray eyes.

“Told you.” With a mischievous smirk, Thranduil settled down onto the grass beneath a tall willow; patting the spot next to him, he invited Elrond to sit. The Peredhel did so without any protests, much to Thranduil’s delight. For a time they sat without speaking, taking in the beauty around them. It was Thranduil who spoke first. “Elrond? Do you remember when we first met?”

“I do,” Elrond replied, thinking back to days long past. “We were so young then.”

“Aye, so young and naïve to the world. And look at us now: we are old and have grown-up children now.”

“You are still as I remember you to be, Thranduil. You were always full of love and life, though you always hid what you truly thought and felt behind masks. You still are that way, I see.”

“It’s a necessity sometimes,” Thranduil replied with a sigh whilst toying with the end of a slender braid of golden hair. “Not all think and act as I do. I thank the Valar I have children who follow in my footsteps and are tolerant of others. There are still those of my realm who believe we shouldn’t even associate with the Noldor, but I have always thought otherwise. I do not try to change the way other people think, nor do I try to impose myself upon them. But it is…frustrating to listen to their accusations and spiteful remarks sometimes.” He flashed a grin at Elrond then. “I suppose that’s where being king makes up for things.”

Elrond couldn’t help but issue a small giggle at the thought. “Aye, but I still remember you as a young prince and a proud archer who came to help in the Last Alliance. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day we first met…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oropher was late, and that made Elrond irritable and impatient. He didn’t understand how Gil-galad could sit so serenely, so calmly in his chair whilst waiting for a king who so obviously hated the Noldor and anything associated with them. Most of all, Elrond couldn’t even begin to imagine how Gil-galad was keeping his composure; the High King hated people being late to formal meetings even more so than Elrond did.

“Elrond, please stop pacing,” Gil-galad said past the steepled fingers he held before his face. “You are beginning to make me dizzy.”

“He is late, my King. Does that not concern you?!” The Peredhel came to a standstill before his King and lover. Gil-galad had helped to raise Elrond and his twin, Elros, for a time after they had been found following their short captivity in Maglor‘s hands. Since then, especially after Elros’ death, the King had always been there for Elrond as one of the few who could tolerate the Peredhel’s sometimes quick and fierce temper. Even Glorfindel had difficulty at times dealing with Elrond when he was in such a state.

“Oropher is late, yes, but I never expected him to be on time, much less early to this meeting.” Gil-galad’s reply was calm and even as he sat back in his chair, regarding the other elf quietly. “It is no secret that the Sindarin King does not like we of the Noldor, Elrond. So then, knowing that, why should we expect him to not make some sort of entrance to this meeting that would rattle our nerves?”

“I suppose you are right.”

“You know I am on this particular matter. Hush now, I hear footsteps; it is likely Glorfindel.”

Elrond was not at all surprised when Glorfindel really did enter the chamber in which he and Gil-galad were waiting. Erestor followed the golden-haired Elda, and he was followed by two blond elves. The Peredhel could only assume the elf with the stern expression and cold green eyes was Oropher, the King of the northern realm of Greenwood. He wore the brown and green colors of his kingdom proudly over shimmering mail, his head crowned with a wreath of laurel; a sword was girded at his side, and a bow and quiver upon his back. Oropher possessed an aura that commanded attention from all who were present before him, lest they feel his wrath. But it was the elf at his side that attracted Elrond’s attention the most.

Thranduil resembled his father in looks but not temperament. He was a mere few years shy of Elrond’s age, yet looked both youthful and wise. His blue eyes held a mix of wonder and knowing, as if he were full of questions but possessed the answers to others. His golden hair was unadorned and loose save for two slender braids that fell from behind his ears; the mark of the Greenwood prince. He too wore a sword at his side and sported a bow in his hand. A full quiver of arrows was upon his back, partially hidden by the sweep of hair that waved to his waist. Unlike his father, Thranduil did not wear mail; instead, he wore a simple leather jerkin, leggings and boots of greens, browns and blacks. His ensemble was completed by a cloak and brown leather wrist guards; an archer’s glove covered his right hand and fingers.

The prince’s demeanor and composure was much easier than that of his father, Elrond noted whilst continuing his observation of Thranduil as the small party stepped close Gil-galad and himself. Thranduil seemed less intimidating than his father, more curious. And he appeared more understanding and tolerant, Elrond quickly realized. The Peredhel could see the almost sympathetic expression the Greenwood prince gave to each of the Noldorin elves as he passed into the chamber, a look that opposed that of his father’s stern and nearly hate-filled gaze.

“King Oropher,” Gil-galad greeted with a nod of his head. “’Tis good to see you well. I trust you have already met Glorfindel and Erestor; may I present to you my herald, Elrond son of Eärendil.”

“The mariner’s son,” Oropher said, eyeing Elrond closely and making the Peredhel feel most uncomfortable. “Aye, I have heard of you, and of the deeds of your father.” He gave Elrond another thorough look-over before turning back to Gil-galad and motioning for Thranduil to step closer. “And I present to you my son, Thranduil of Greenwood.”

Thranduil made an elegant bow in honor to the High King, which impressed more than Gil-galad. Glorfindel and Erestor exchanged a look behind Oropher’s back, and Elrond easily interpreted the look as one of approval towards Oropher’s heir.

“’Tis an honor to be in your presence, Sire,” Thranduil said, ignoring the momentary scowl his father threw at him. “I hope we may be great allies in this battle against Sauron.”

“Well said, son of Oropher,” Gil-galad replied with a nod. “There is much to discuss at present, but perhaps you would like some rest first? The journey from the Greenwood could not have been easy or short.”

“I will not rest,” Oropher protested. “As you said, there is much to discuss and I would that we began now. But my son may take some refreshment if that is his wish.”

“It is, father.”

“Then let Elrond show you the way to your quarters,” Gil-galad said, sparing a quick glance at his herald. Obediently and politely, Elrond bowedbothboth his King and Oropher before motioning for Thranduil to follow him.

“Come,” he said, turning to the blond prince. “Your quarters are just down this corridor.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Thranduil followed the King’s herald silently as Elrond led him down the corridor. Blue eyes kept themselves trained on the Peredhel’s back, following the sway of the raven hair as Elrond moved. He didn’t understand it, but Thranduil felt something then, something he had never felt before. He became absorbed in the emotion he felt stirring in his chest, and almost didn’t register Elrond’s voice when the other spoke.

“These are your quarters, Prince Thranduil,” the dark-haired elf said, motioning to the open door of a vast, darkened chamber. “Your father’s assigned guest room is just next door, and the rest of your party will be saying down the corridor.”

“Thank you,” the young prince replied with a kind smile, which widened at the somewhat confused expression that passed across the herald’s face. “And please, call me Thranduil. I’m not overly fond of my title, though my father expects others to use it when in his presence.”

“You are…quite different from your father.”

Thranduil laughed at that, a merry sound that resembled raindrops tinkling lightly on silver roofs and carried down the hall. “Why do you think so?”

Elrond found himself blushing at the laughter, growing embarrassed without quite knowing why. “You just do. When you entered the High King’s court, there was something different about you. King Oropher seems rather stubborn, compared to…”

“Compared to me? Nay, I can be rather stubborn when I want to be, at least that is what I am told.” The golden-haired prince let issue a somber sigh. “My father is rather set in his ways and thinking, and does not like it when people try to persuade him otherwise. I am of the same mindset, but I have different standings on certain issues.”

“Such as?”

“Can you not guess?”

“To be honest, I cannot.” A sudden thought occurred to Elrond, to which he turned to Thranduil with wonder and curiosity. “Unless you are referring to the Kinslayings?”

The golden head nodded. “My father still holds the Noldor in contempt because of the Elder Days.”

“But you do not?”

“They are the Elder Days, meldir; they are not the present. Many of those of today are related, sometimes distantly, to those who participated in such events, such as your High King. Even then, many of the elves of yore were still good people. Fingon and Turgon were excellent rulers, defending their realms and their people to their dying days.”

“They were of the House of Fingolfin. You cannot think so highly of the House of Fëanor.”

“Why? Did Maglor not raise you as his own following the attack at the Mouth of Sirion when he could have easily killed you? Did not Maedhros turn away the Kingship of thldorldor, giving it to Fingolfin after his rescue? You are right, I do not think as highly of them as I do the other houses of the Noldor. And in turn I do not think of the Noldor as highly as I do my own people. But I do not think I have the right to hold the people of this time responsible for actions their forefathers committed.”

“You truly are different from your father.”

“And yet people still call me my father’s son.”

Elrond laughed, clasping Thranduil’s arm in a warm and friendly gesture. “I can see, mellon, that we will be great friends. But forgive me, for I must return to my King’s side. If you should need anything, call for a servant or maid; they will attend to whatever needs you might have.”

“Hannon le.”

With another smile, Elrond turned and left, heading back in the direction they had come. Thranduil remained standing in the corridor a moment longer, watching the Peredhel until he had turned a corner and the dark head disappeared. The prince then averted his eyes to the ground at his feet, one slim hand creeping upwards to clutch his tunic just above his heart.

/Elbereth, why is my heart racing? I can’t be…we’ve only just met! I’ve never…it’s so confusing./ Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in an attempt to recompose himself, Thranduil exhaled slowly before entering his room. Closing the door behind him, he took a moment to remove his weapons and his boots before collapsing on the bed. Curling in on himself, Thranduil hugged his knees, staring at the wall as he tried to make sense of this new situation and of the impending war that might ruin everything.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“We were young and naïve then, weren’t we?” Elrond asked, turning to gaze at his old friend. He returned the smile Thranduil gave him, but it quickly faded as he moved closer to the Sinda. “You loved me from that first day, didn’t you?”

Thranduil felt the blood drain from his face, but kept his composure, managing to hide old hurts from his face and eyes as he turned to meet Elrond’s gaze. “I didn’t know then you were Gil-galad’s lover; had I known I would never have told you how I felt.”

“But you did tell me.”

“I was a foolish child then. I should have known better, but I was reckless and didn’t care much how my actions would affect others. I should have kept my tongue.” He averted his eyes, feeling as insecure and shy as that first day. The warm and gentle hand that cupped his cheek surprised him as Thranduil felt his face being turned until he met those storm-gray eyes again.

“We were both foolish,” Elrond said softly, moving closer until he was lightly pressed against Thranduil’s side. “But we grew up. We’ve both loved and lost, had beautiful children we are proud of.” He sighed, releasing his hold on Thranduil but not moving away as he stared down at his hands. “I know I should have been more grateful towards you for coming all this way to help me when you heard about what happened to my wife.”

“I told you I would always come.”

“Aye, you did.” A pause. “Did you know Celebrían released me from our marriage vows just before she sailed?”

Thranduil’s eyes widened at the news, but he kept his peace, waiting for Elrond to finish.

“She told me to take another lover, one who would love me deeply in turn. Her words were so sudden that I couldn’t say anything; I was too stunned, but she merely smiled. It was almost as if she had sensed something.” Gray eyes lifted then, gazing into a sapphire pair that radiated thousands of years’ worth of love.

“I have not been released from my vows,” Thranduil whispered, understanding Elrond’s silent request. His voice held a note of melancholy, but he remained composed. “In any case, you have given me no indication, past or present, that you have such feelings for me.”

“Can you not givea cha chance now? Please?”

There was nothing he had been able to deny Elrond, not in the past and certainly not now. Moving slowly so the Peredhel could watch him, Thranduil cupped Elrond’s face in both of his hands. Thumbs brushed over the smooth skin of high cheekbones; tentatively, Thranduil leaned in closer, brushing his lips against the other elf’s. Once, twice, he repeated his actions before deepening the caress. Pliant, soft lips opened to him, allowing Thranduo exo explore and plunder the sweet cavern. Both issued moans of longing as their kiss continued, making up for lost time and those yet to come.