To Live Again: Waiting Between Worlds {Lord of the Rings Fanfiction}

To Snare A King

Greenwood the Great - Halls of the King

Thranduil pawed through the ornate fruit bowl placed to his right on his completely disorganised desk and on finding it empty - for the exception of a few measly grapes - he grumbled and dropped his head into the crook of his arm. He was slightly tempted to bark for Galion to fix the problem, but after a little introspection Thranduil decided that he probably had just ate the whole contents of the bowl without much thought.

He was bored!

Bored of tedious paper work, bored of lengthy council meetings, bored with suggestions, bored with the frightfully dull and droning gossip of court life. He absently wondered exactly where and when his life became a seres of organised routines?

Thranduil longed to feel the excitement of the unpredictable woods, the feeling of hunting without half the guard and his councilmen in pursuit. Sometimes he daydreamed about just taking off without consent, sneaking out a window, taking a horse, and surprising Clara by arriving unannounced at one of her little aid missions with the humans.

Although, if his calculations were precise - and they usually were - then she should be on her way home with an entourage of dwarven smiths.

Delightful...Thranduil sniffed at the idea, and the ensuing headache of entertaining the obnoxious little brutes caused him to groan audibly into his arm.

It was a terrible conflict to be caught up in, or at least that is how it felt. Thranduil yearned to be reunited with Clara, it was a terrible and all-consuming urge to seek her out and the longer she spent away from him the more he ached, he doubted that this would ever change, it was just his way. However, as much as he wished with all his might for her to hurry home, he really was in no rush to meet with the dwarf lords again. He never trusted the traitors, even if these dwarves were not of the same kin, he still immensely disliked their presence...another thing he doubted would ever change.

It was safe for the fledgling King to admit that he was definitely a creature of predictable habit. He loved fiercely and jealously, but he hated just as viciously and unfairly - he never seemed to find a happy medium.

It was the creak of his door that first shattered Thranduil's internal musings. He was just about to whine about being left alone for a few minutes without interruption, when he registered the intruder had very small feet that scuffled across the stone floor timorously.

A moment of silence passed and Thranduil slowly dragged his chin upwards, away from his arm so he could eye the little bandit suspiciously.

Predictably, he found eight pudgy fingers and two adorable thumbs pulling on the opposite end of his desk, before a pair of grey eyes and a mop of silvery blonde hair peeped over the edge.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Thranduil questioned a little more intimidatingly than he had intended, but the child's eyes merely crinkled at the edges and a sneaky little giggle escaped him. Thranduil shook his head, unable to contain the grin that spread across his face at the mischievous and completely uncaring look in his son's features. A look that certainly reminded him of his mother, an equally uncaring elf when it came to his commands.

"Ada...where is Nana?" Ferion mumbled, still stretching on his tip-toes to see his beloved father. "I miss her."

"I know, ion nin, truly I do," Thranduil sighed as he stretched and easily rose from his chair, circling the desk to behold his bedraggled elfling, who still clutched his blanket and had pillow creased cheeks.

The child barely came to his hip, and when Thranduil stood his little son had to crane his neck right back to look up expectantly at his father.

"Will she be home tomorrow?" Ferion pushed, his fingers clutching the hems of his father's robe. "I drew her pictures of the butterflies, and of you, and Legolas...Ada...is Legolas away to get Nana...when will he come home? Tomorrow?"