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Lorinand Memoirs: The Bough Breaks	By : Avaloyuru Category: +Second Age > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 2207 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any form of copyright to Tolkien’s world, Middle-Earth, or associated characters or the Middle-Earth Fandom. I receive no form of compensation monetarily or otherwise from this work of fan-fiction

Chapter List
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“Insolent to very end!” Oropher spat angrily as he refilled his goblet. “You should have seen it Garävegión! They were fawning all over him as if he was the king himself!”
“It is not surprising. He does not share your prejudices toward the Silvan elves and they know this.” Lord Garävegión said quietly, guarding his tone as he watched the king sink slowly back into the large chair opposite him. “It has been nearly four months. Surely you did not believe his absence would have gone unnoticed.” He added, continuing to needle him as he studied the king.
“The arrogance! He is being punished and he tells them he is the Ambassador of the Woodland Realm!” Oropher exclaimed, waving his hand in the air in frustration. “Well, he’ll find out soon enough that all of his foolish notions are over!” He continued to rant as he glared at Garävegión angrily.
“What are you talking about?” Lord Garävegión asked quietly, a sinking feeling in his gut that he was not going to like the answer.
“I have asked King Amdír to seek out and offer arrangements for a suitable young Sindar as a wife for him.” Oropher stated with a smile. “That will put a stop to his foolish dalliances. It is time he accepts his responsibility to produce an heir.” He added, a slight lilt of humor in his tone as his icy blue eyes danced.
“You cannot be serious Oropher!” Garävegión exclaimed, his eyes widening as he stared at him in disbelief. “For Eru’s (God’s) sake he’s still very much a child!”
“He stopped being a child almost four hundred years ago!” Oropher retorted angrily.
“Yes! In age he is no longer a child!” Lord Garävegión exclaimed, his eyes narrowing at the king. “But he is not ready. All his life you have done nothing but bark orders at him, tell him what to do and how to do it! You have never allowed him to think for himself and when he tries you do nothing but criticize him. You have done your best to segregate him from the very people he is supposed to govern. He is not ready for the world you are trying to shove him into!” He ranted, unable to stop himself now that he was angry enough to speak his mind.
“I had to do something!” Oropher exclaimed, frowning at him. “I regret that I reacted the way I did but I could not have him going about with those…”
He stopped himself as he remembered seeing his son’s face while he slept under heavy sedation from the brew Galion had made for him. He was thankful that nothing was broken save the ugly split in his swollen lower lip. The deep purple bruises that marred his beautiful face, across his cheek and under his one eyes were painful just to look upon, he could only imagine the pain his son had felt. Even the dark bruising on his wrist, so obviously shaped in a hand print had hit him hard in his gut. He truly regretted striking out at him in anger.
“I do not understand why you felt the need to barge in there the way you did.” Lord Garävegión stated, bracing himself for the tirade that was sure to follow. Yet it was necessary, when he was angry the king was far less careful in his choice of words and he wanted him to say something, anything that would come close to an admission for what he had done to his son.
“What else was I supposed to do?!” Oropher bellowed angrily, his ice blue eyes focusing on his Chief Adviser. “I could not very well have that…”
“That was my son.” Lord Garävegión interrupted him, his own anger now rising from the pit of his stomach like a foul taste. “And I have dealt with him as you so ordered. But you remember this Oropher.” He continued, his tone was cold as he rose from the chair. “I know about Cerályië, I am not the only one who was there when she found out about him. You destroyed her, she is gone because of you, not that child whom you have blamed and abused his entire life. Do not fool yourself into believing what you have done is not known. I hope you can forgive yourself because I never will.”
“Are you threatening me?!” Oropher demanded as he watched him stride purposefully toward the door, his long silvery hair flowing behind him.
“I do not need to.” Lord Garävegión stated as he swung around to face him, his pale gray-blue eyes appearing more as chips of ice. “Your past and your own impetuousness will destroy you, you damned fool! I can only pray you do not bring Thranduil down with you. He deserves so much more than what you have ever given him.” He told him before turning away, slamming the door behind him as he left the kings’ chambers.
Taking a long drink from the goblet, Oropher turned to stare into the flames in the hearth. He did not need to struggle to recall her face. Háleärgiliäth, he saw her every time he looked into the face of their son. Like himself, she was Iathrim (Note) and held to be the highest and noblest of the Grey-Elven kindred. Descending as well from the Vanyar, she was tall for an elleth, (elf maiden) with long soft tresses of silver hair that framed her beautiful oval face. It was if her fäë (soul) stared back at him through the eyes of their son, pure sapphire that sparkled with the glimmer of diamonds like starlight that could not fade with coming of the dawn.
“You will torment me for all of my transgressions until the end of my days won’t you.” He stated out loud, his tone dripping with the same bitterness he felt in his heart toward her. Tipping the goblet to his lips, he drained the last of it and stared down into it. “Damned you!” He cursed her as he threw the goblet across the room.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
“The Vales of Anduin are just beyond that rise.” Faÿláën stated as he guided his mount closer to the prince and Galion. “We will need to take the ferry to cross the river into the vale.”
“The vales are home to both the Nandor who look to Lenwë for guidance and Westmen who do the same toward Edain.” Galion stated. “While neither have officially taken titles they both are respected as leaders in Lórinand.”
Nodding Thranduil’s expression turned inward for a long moment. “I will take only you and Faÿláën to meet with them.” He stated, turning his attention back to Faÿláën.
“As you wish.” Faÿláën replied, nodding a respectful bow before turning his mount back to inform the rest of their party as to their plans.
“I find it most interesting that you know much for one who enjoys presenting himself as a lowly servant.” Thranduil commented quietly, turning toward him, the stern expression contradicted by the slight arch of his brow and the sparkle in his eyes.
“I have already told you, there are many things to be learned that cannot be learned from a book.” Galion replied, lifting his chin as he stared back at the prince.
“Shall we?” Thranduil stated, urging Maeglir forward as Faÿláën returned.
Cresting the top of the rise they were greeted with Thranduils’ first view of occupied lands outside of the Woodland Realm. The evening had darkened save for the silvery light of the moon and an array of stars that glittered against a velvety sky. The lights of the many lanterns along the Anduin River cast a warm glow against the backdrop of the darker forest beyond. Slowing their mounts, the princes’ party approached the river and the ferry dock with caution.
“Wait here.” Faÿláën said quietly as he nudged his mount to a slightly faster gait toward the small group of approaching elves.
“Greetings friends.” One of them addressed him as he reached them. “I am Féÿgián, the Ferry Master.”
“I am Faÿláën, chief escort to Prince Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.” He replied with a respectful nod. “We are a party of eight including the Prince. We seek entrance to Lórinand as arranged by King Amdír and King Oropher.”
“We did not expect you until morning, but it is of no matter.” Féÿgián informed him. “Please, collect your party and meet us at the ferry. I will send word to Lenwë that you have arrived.” He added and turned with the others away from him without another word.
Even though the ferry boats were built to transport large shipments in trade with the dwarves of Khazad-dûm, it had been a tedious process and required both of them. Standing close to Maeglir, Thranduil lovingly caressed the huge horses’ neck and rubbed his nose gently to comfort him as they waited for the ferry to reach the other side. It was a most unsettling feeling without solid ground beneath their feet.
“Welcome Prince Thranduil, I am Lenwë” A tall silver haired elf greeted him with a warm smile as Thranduil led Maeglir up the slight rise to more level ground away from the rivers’ shore. “We are honored by your visit.”
“My father sends goodwill.” Thranduil replied, touching his chest as he nodded in respect, watching him as Lenwë approached him with a broad smile.
“I have not had the opportunity to meet with King Oropher.” Lenwë stated as he extended his hand toward the Prince. “The Sindar of the Woodland Realm are not known for leaving the safety of their forest.”
“Anyë.” (Yes) Thranduil smiled, accepting the outstretched hand, yet he felt somewhat awkward under the intense gaze of his pale blue eyes. “My father is content in his ways.”
“I see.” Lenwë mused briefly. “You are welcome to remain here for the night so you may arrive in the heart of Lórinand more refreshed.” He added as he turned, signaling for Thranduil to come with him. “There are quarters enough for all of you if you do not mind sharing. Anÿlläën is an excellent horseman, he will look after your mounts and show your guards to their quarters once they have been seen to.”
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Thranduil said as he fell in step with the tall elf, whose appearance so resembled Aldalómë in the twilight. He forced those thoughts quickly from his mind. Sensing a great age about the elf, he wondered from where he had come and why he had looked at him with such familiarity.
“Will you join me for a drink before you retire?” Lenwë asked, smiling as he turned slightly to assess the young prince. “Faiga will show Galion to your quarters.”
“I would be honored.” Thranduil replied, returning the same friendly smile. Again he found the elf unsettling with his awareness, it was not like his father to extend the courtesy of a second missive for the purpose of providing the name of one he viewed as a lowly Silvan servant.
“Our ways here are not so different from yours.” Lenwë spoke softly as they walked through the forest toward a large oaken structure that served as both his residence and meeting place, with extra quarters for temporary use in the back.
“I am Telerin born at the time when we were known as Nelyar, although many simply refer to me as Sindar, it is of no matter to me.” He continued, casting a glance at the silent prince who seemed very interested in his words.
“Here we are.” Lenwë smiled broadly as he waved his hand toward the large doors that were pulled open by two elves as they approached.
Beyond the fact that it was notably larger, the home of Lenwë was otherwise unremarkable in comparison to the other dwellings they had passed as they strolled along the path that led deeper into the vale. Other than the elves that greeted them with silent nods at the door, Thranduil noted there appeared to be no servants or otherwise as he led them further into the dwelling. He unfastened his cloak and handed it to Galion, watching as Faiga led him away toward the back of the structure.
“We live a simple life here.” Lenwë told him as he removed his cloak and hung it on a peg just inside his public sitting room. “They only look to me as a guide, the Vale of Anduin is part of Lórinand and under the rule of King Amdír.” He continued as he walked toward a small table to pour them both a goblet of wine. “There is another of the Nelyar with whom you should seek counsel once you are settled in Lórinand. His name is Celeborn, his wife is the Lady Galadriel.”
“You are a good listener young Thranduil.” Lenwë said quietly, as he handed him one of the goblets and waved toward a comfortable looking settee. “I will not keep you long. I am sure you are weary from your travel. A days’ ride on horseback can be fatiguing even for an elf.” He smiled as he sat on the opposite end of the settee. “The wine may help you rest.”
“I have had much experience recently in listening to Galions’ continual chatter.” Thranduil laughed, shaking his head slightly.
“Ah, yes, Galion.” Lenwë chuckled, as he looked down into the dark liquid in his goblet. “He is very perceptive and always eager to learn, his memory is remarkable as is that of his sister Minûiáliën. Both chose to leave Lórinand in the early years of the First Age to live in what was then Greenwood as they had other family there.”
“I can see he has not chosen to share that with you.” Lenwë commented as Thranduil remained silent. “I think the two of you have far more in common than you know. While he is eager to share knowledge, he does not always share things of himself. These are both good qualities of one who would lead others.”
“I can see why Oropher would hide you away like a jewel within the darkness of the forest.” He thought to himself as he appreciated the beauty of the young prince. Being his only heir, it was easy as well to see why he would want to bind him to a marriage so soon, yet he sensed a great shifting, from where or whom he had no awareness.
“Even when I ask, he is reluctant to speak of himself.” Thranduil admitted, taking only a small drink of the wine. “For my part there is not much to tell.”
“You would be surprised how much and what kind of information is spread and how quickly.” Lenwë commented, almost absently. “We are not so far from your lands and there is a strong kinship between the Silvan and Wood elves. Both descend from Teleri as do the Sindar. It does not compare to that of Lindon or Doriath, but Lórinand does have a satisfactory library if you choose to visit it during your time with us.” He continued, enjoying the eagerness the young prince tried to hide with his schooled expression.
“Much of my fathers’ library is built on what was brought with us during the journey from Lindon.” Thranduil informed him reluctantly. “I would very much enjoy visiting the one here.”
Lenwë continued to make small talk as he studied him. Although he had never met King Oropher, he was known among the Wood elves as a good but strong handed ruler within the Woodland Realm. He was respected and viewed by most to be fair in his dealings with the Silvan elves, even embracing most their customs and their attunement of nature. There were rumors of discord between the father and son over the past few years, the true nature was not known.
“I have kept you long enough.” Lenwë stated with a wide smile as he rose to his feet. “You must be weary and you need your rest for tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Thranduil smiled, rising to his feet as Faiga seemed to appear out of nowhere. “I hope we will be able to talk more.”
“We will.” Lenwë smiled as he accepted the now empty wine goblet from him. “Faiga will show you to your room.”
Nodding his head in polite respect, Thranduil turned and followed the Wood elf across the large entry hall.
“The guest quarters are at the back of the meeting hall, near the stables.” Faiga informed him, waving his hand toward the expanse of the large room through which they passed. “Anÿlläën will remain with your mounts for the night, close to your own quarters.” He continued as they turned down a smaller hallway that opened up to a covered walkway lined with doors.
“This will be your room for the evening.” Faiga smiled, waving his hand toward the first door along the row. “If you need anything, Galion can find me nearby.”
“Thank you Faiga.” Thranduil nodded a polite bow of his head. “I am sure everything will be fine.”
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
End Notes:
Teleri = The third and largest clan of the Eldar, which was comprised of the Sindar, Laiquendi and Nandor elves.
Iathrim = The Elves of Doriath were those Sindar that lived in the broad forests of central Beleriand, Neldoreth, and Region, under the Kingship of Elu Thingol and later Dior Eluchíl. These people, whose Queen was of the order of the Maiar and whose King was the High King of the Sindar, were held to be the highest and noblest of the Grey-elven kindred.
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Lorinand Memoirs: The Bough Breaks