Silvan Soldier


Disclaimer: Own nothing. Have nothing. ^^; Therefore, don't sue. Have nothing = have no money. Oo; Unless you absolutely have to have 15 cents...

Note: This is my attempt at recreating Thranduil's childhood and life thereon using the info I have from the Silmarillion, the Unfinished Tales, LOTR, etc. And websites such as the Encyclopedia of Arda. Do not hesitate to tell me if I have a mistake or not. ^^;

Enjoy. :o)


"Oh! Thranduil, don't touch-" Oropher reached out helplessly towards his only son as yet another ink bottle smashed onto the smooth rock floor. "- that...." Thranduil then proceeded to splash about in the spilled ink, giggling and clapping his hands. Oropher's heart melted, although he knew he should reprimand the child.

At the time of the Second Age, the realm of a significant number of Silvan Elves was peacefully held and reigned by Oropher, a prince of Sindarin descent, in Greenwood the Great. Though rustic compared to those of the High Elves and such, the Silvan Elves were quite content, claiming that they wanted to live the life of the Elves before the Valar had come to meet them. Oropher was a leader of peace, never involving his people unless they were desperately needed.

"Thranduil! Come here. Come on," Oropher eyed the broken glass worriedly, attempting to lead his child away from it. Oropher was ever protective of his son ever since his wife died of childbirth complications with Thranduil. Thranduil was who Oropher poured all of his love into.

"Ah!" Thranduil giggled again and toddled over to his father, smearing his ink-stained hands on his pants. Oropher let out a chuckle, shaking his head. Again would Thranduil have to have new clothes. The mistress weaver would not be pleased. Oropher swept his son up, kissing his chubby, glowing cheeks. Elves who passed by the small study room couldn't suppress a smile, knowing full well that Thranduil was the gem of the realm.

"Time to take a bath and go to bed EARLY. I don't want you sleeping in the middle of the day again. You make the handmaidens fret too much," Oropher lightly scolded Thranduil, tapping his forehead. Thranduil looked up and grasped his father's finger, squeezing and cuddling it.

"How I wish you would never grow up. You have your mother's eyes," Oropher wistfully gazed into Thranduil's deep brown eyes with his own green-hazel ones. "But you will. And you shall rule this realm after me, for I will get weary and old. And cranky." Oropher grinned while shedding off his son's clothes and dipped him into a small bathtub. "I would hope that you would learn not to spill anymore ink bottles by then." Thranduil laughed as Oropher tickled him.

"My Lord? Malgalad of Lórien is here to see you. It concerns the power of the Dwarves of Hadhodrond," A sentinel addressed the king, the slightest crease of worry in his eyebrows. Oropher sighed, passing a wooden toy boat to his son before kissing him on the head. He stood up and unrolled the sleeves of his robes. A handmaiden was summoned to finish up Thranduil's bath and to put him to bed.

"It is not dire news, then?" Oropher asked the sentinel.

"I do not believe so, but Lord Malgalad's face was solemn enough for worry, my Lord,"

"End the lessons of the youngsters. I will need much silence and privacy," Oropher rubbed his forehead and pushed back the brown hanging strands.

"As you wish it, my Lord," the sentinel bowed, then exited, leaving Oropher in the library, where Malgalad was already waiting.

"Forgive me. I was bathing my son," Oropher smiled faintly and ushered Malgalad into a intricately carved chair by the blazing fire. Oropher too sat down and proceeded to question Malgalad, for the Silvan Elves of Greenwood the Great hardly traveled far from the realm, save for great need. Most of the questions concerned the possible dangers and threats towards his own realm, though he was careful to mask it with the implication of all Elven realms.

"The Dwarves have great skill I do not deny that Hadhodrond is mighty and beautiful in its own right. The trouble is that I feel a shadow over it and I am not quite sure what it is. The dangers and threats may be worse than we expect," Malgalad averted his gaze towards the fire. Oropher studied Malgalad's face for a while.

"You do not worry about the Dwarves. It is something else, is it not?" Oropher frowned, leaning back into his chair.

"I do not wish to say it. And I did not. The Dwaves of Hadhodrond were merely a topic to be told to others that do not need to know right away. It is about the East," Malgalad's eyes met Oropher's. Oropher then noticed that the usual sparkle of Malgalad's eyes was gone, replaced by an empty well of blue. This had to be a grave manner.

"Do tell. I have ensured our privacy," Oropher looked towards the closed doors.

"There has been rumors. And they are but rumors, but I fear the truth of them. They say a dark force is massing again. Evil silently creeps to the East and smoke rises again. That is all, but I believe it is enough,"

"They are true, then?"

"I would say most likely. The High Elves, I have heard, are already grouping together for alliance and defense. And that is also what I came here for. To ask for your alliance, in case of future need. In return we would aid you as well, Silvan cousin," Malgalad stood up, awaiting Oropher's response. Oropher gave a half-smile, stood up, and clasped Malgalad's hands.

"We are allies, cousin. One and forever until the end," Oropher and Malgalad patted each other's backs and bowed to each other. "Are you sure you do not want to stay?"

"Nay, I must get back to Lórien as soon as possible. There are other pressing issues. Farewell and may your rule and realm prosper!" Malgalad thanked Oropher for his offer and was escorted back out by another sentinel.

"I fear Thranduil might grow up in a time of war and conflict. Such is the curse of the long lives of Elves," Oropher's shoulders sagged as he walked to his bedchamber. His robe seemed much heavier than it had been before.